#give a girl proper warning damn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvonmes-blog · 11 months ago

Text

Guilty

Y/N and Suguru were damn near polar opposites of each other. Y/N, a girl who wore her heart on her sleeve and gave and gave until she couldn't anymore. Suguru, a cocky dickhead who was spoon-fed opportunities and was given everything he ever wanted. how could the two ever make anything work?

Warnings - 18+ MDNI!! enemies to lovers! hockey player!geto, ice skater!reader, tatted!geto, pierced!geto, he gets bitched, getos a whiny little boy, smut, rough sex, sappy sex, daddy kink, breeding kink towards the end, some spit, sex in a public place, at some point Satoru walks in, Y/N kinda cries a lot (self-projection is real). i think theres more? lmk if i missed anything! w.c - 18.5k, not proof read. Song - Guilty By: TAEMIN

PSA - please do not compare this to Icebreaker. ik because of ice skating and the release of this book it’s the first thing you think of but, number one, that book sucks. number two, the book is supposed to have elements and revolve around muslim culture, the author obviously did not do enough research on what it is to be muslim and i hate it. number three, i actually spent time researching and even had someone help me make sure this was the best i can possibly make it, i’d like if my work was appreciated for being my work instead of it being appreciated because it reminds you of smt else. thank you!

all in all, DO NOT COMPARE THIS TO ICEBREAKER.

very special shout out to @r0ses4ndlilies for helping me use the proper ice skating terms!!!

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to say Suguru Geto was meant to be something - someone - important was as if to say the sun was meant to shine. obvious.

from a young age Suguru knew he was special, gifted in academics and sports, the only person to rival him - his own best friend, Satoru. the boys were their hometowns' prized possessions. their families bragged about them, boys wanted to be them, girls fawned after them. being in their presence meant there was never a dry day but as they grew older, they grew more focused. straying away from others to pursue their dream careers. the dream was finally reached in their college years, being accepted into the prestigious university, Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College. as soon as they graduated high school they were offered full rides to the school, as long as they played on the hockey team.

they took the offer without hesitation, going to one of the highest ranked schools and getting to play the sport of their dreams? easy yes. that was almost four years ago, the boys are in their last year of college, still playing for the hockey team, almost ready to graduate. the team was the best it had been in years, only three losses since Suguru and Satoru joined the team. not only were they the best on the team but the most popular in their frat as well - Sigma Beta Chi, courtesy of Satoru dragging Sugura to join along with him.

then there was you.

to say you had busted your ass to get where you were today would be an understatement. you poured your blood sweat and tears to get to the spot you’re in, captain of the TMTC ice skating team. as a child you’d always dreamed of becoming a figure skater. a video you had seen sparked your interest and since then you’d never let it go. it was hard, growing up your grandfather had tried his best to support you, going out of his way to pay for your skating lessons and even putting you into an after school program. he never told you of his financial struggles, he didn’t want you to give up on your dream but when you found out, you vowed to pay him back any way you could. you made sure your grades in school couldn’t be challenged, you took on many temp jobs, making money any way you could, while balancing the energy-draining skate practices you went to at night.

in your third year both upper and lower-classmen voted you as captain for the school's team and you were over the moon. you immediately called your grandfather to tell him the great news and he was just as happy as you, forever and always your number one supporter. since you became captain you’ve pushed yourself to and over your limit, challenging yourself in any way possible to make sure you were always at your best. many late nights were spent at the rink until your legs hurt so much you weren’t sure you’d be able to walk back to your dorm. you made sure the team was as best as they possibly could be, some members thought you were a bit harsh but never challenged you. after all, you had won them gold three times in a row for the first time in years.

the only conflict you had ever had in your four years of being a student at TMTC was with the hockey team. ironic seeing as your sports were the most similar of any other sport on campus but the rumor of all hockey players seemed true, they were dicks. especially the co-captains Suguru and Satoru. they didn’t seem to take your sport seriously, always taunting you whenever they’d see you. snide comments about your figure when they’d see you at practice or remarks about the uniforms you and the team wore. you wouldn’t go as far as to say you hate them (that’s just not you) but you weren’t particularly fond of them. they constantly got on your nerves, their deep boisterous laughs making your eye twitch whenever you heard them.

they ground your gears so much you just tried your best to avoid them. it wasn’t that hard seeing as you all lived on opposite sides of campus and in the two classes you had with Suguru, you sat closest to the wall while he sat dead center with his loud friends. Suguru was smart, extraordinarily so, which is exactly why you didn’t understand why he was such an asshole. you truly believed you two could be great friends but he was so rude it turned you away almost immediately. you never understood why he was so mean to you. the first time you had met you were all smiles and kind waves, you went to introduce yourself to him and he shot you down.

the coaches of both teams had called a meeting for all new team members. it was a run down of the rules and regulations, anti-harassment, anti-bullying, non-discrimination. so much that has done for you. after the meeting was over the coaches gave you the choices of either leaving or the opportunity to mingle. you took the chance to mingle, forever a social butterfly, going up to many different people. some of the girls from your team were a little hostile but open to talking, the hockey boys well… if they didn’t try to hit on you they mostly seemed uninterested in the conversation. making your rounds you finally ended up in front of Suguru and Satoru. Satoru had looked you up and down before walking away, hadn’t even given you the time. holding your hand out for Suguru to shake, you smiled at him.

“hi, i’m Y/N.” he stared at you before mumbling under his breath. you thought he was going to say something to you but Satoru had called after him, saying something about pizza. Suguru placed the cup he was drinking out of in your hand and walked over to his best friend. “o-oh…” he looked back at you, your face stuck with your mouth open and eyes wide, shocked. a couple of times after you tried to approach him, trying your best to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he’s not so mean. time and time again he proved you wrong. you would bring in gifts for the team, snacks for practice, water, anything they’d need. everyone was always so grateful, Satoru had even said thank you maybe a handful of times. Suguru had never even muttered anything.

you kept trying, ever the people pleaser, finding different ways to appease him, if you noticed he seemed to enjoy something more than another you would bring it in more. you would try to catch up to him after practice, spark up a conversation, he never seemed to care enough. you couldn’t understand why you were so obsessed with making him like you. maybe it was because growing up you always made sure everyone liked you, never leaving the house with a hair out place, always bending over backwards to make sure everyone was at least content with you. maybe it was because you couldn’t function if you felt like there was any sort of scrutiny upon your character. maybe you were so obsessed with making him like you because you had a little crush- no, no way. you kept up, trying so hard to get on his good side. it took up until one night, one night and the fixation fell. you were walking out after a long day of practice, he was in front of you, looking down on his phone.

“hey!” you yelled after him, starting in a little jog to catch up to him. he stopped for a second as you stepped next to him. “hi.” you were panting a little bit, breaths coming out in clouds due to the cold air. the snow that was falling landed in your eyelashes, you were smiling at him, so bright and wide, you looked so cute. cuter than anyone Suguru has seen before. “um, i saw a spin you did back there when you were practicing. i was wondering if maybe you could show it to me. i’ve seen some other skaters on your team do it before too, it’s really cool and i was hoping i could take it back to my team and show them.” you looked up at him, hopeful.

“yeah, no.”

“oh. please? i’d really appreciate it.” you flashed him with that bright smile of yours. he was tempted to say yes, so tempted. if he did teach you maybe he could make you smile more. smile at him.

“i said no.” you pouted, he was walking away before he turned back around to face you. your face lit back up, eyes sparkling, maybe he changed his mind? “and leave me alone, i notice the weird shit you do to get my attention. it’s annoying, stop.” your face dropped. he turned his back towards you again. after that day you did exactly what he said, left him alone. from that day on you’d begun avoiding him.

you’d done a great job at it too, for years you stayed out his way… until today.

it was another late night at the rink. wednesdays the rinks were always empty for mandatory deep cleaning, the captains would usually ask the manager of the building if they could borrow it on these nights to practice by themselves. there was a deal that the captains of the separate teams could have the rink every-other wednesday, tonight was your night. you were on your way into the rink, texting your friend Bri, she was telling you about how Satoru was staring at her from across the lecture hall. she was obsessed, it was odd seeing as you told her how much he got on your nerves and how he teased you in public. she didn’t seem to care too much.

as you were heading to the locker room you heard clinking coming from the ice, you had assumed it was the cleaning crew, they’d usually be finishing up right about now. lacing up your skates you finally put your phone down, over Bri’s delusions, you were too afraid to cut her off as a friend, scared of the potential consequences. walking to the rink, your guards scuffing against the floor as you dragged your feet, already feeling the pain in your legs. you were just about to sit down and take your guards off before you saw him. the infamous number two on his jersey moving against his body as he moved the hockey puck around with his customized stick.

“hey!” you yelled out through the windows separating the bleachers and the rink. “what are you doing?” he stopped just as he was about to hit the puck into the makeshift goal he mapped out in the corner. turning around to look at you with low eyes.

“what does it look like i’m doing?” he answered back, snarkily.

“it looks like you’re taking up my time.” you were annoyed, he knows this is your time, you’d even specified yesterday. talking just loudly enough for the hockey team to hear from across the rink, you knew they were listening in, they always do.

“your time?” he scoffed.

“yeah, my time.” you rolled your eyes. “listen, i don’t know how long you’ve been here but it’s long enough. i really don’t want to be mean or make this bigger than it is but i really need to practice. i’d really appreciate it if you left.” you gave him the kindest smile you could then sat down to take the guards off your skates.

“alright, princess, i was here first. that means i get the rink.” his arms were out at his side, gesturing to the rink. you shot back up quickly.

“no!” you exclaimed. “this is my night. you being here first doesn’t mean anything. and i told you to stop calling me that.” princess. the stupid nickname he had given you two years ago. you were leaving the rink after a meeting between the two teams, him and Satoru trailing behind laughing and giggling to each other. he’d tried calling after you, yelling your name a couple of times, you had ignored him, not wanting to deal with their antics. he yelled after you once more before the godforsaken nick-name fell from his lips. you stopped immediately, turning on your heels before telling him to not call you that. after that he made it a point to call you it whenever he could.

“first come first serve, princess.” your eye twitched.

“Geto-”

“what’s up with the formalities? can’t call me by my name?” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“can you just leave?”

“i already told you-”

“i know what you told me and i’m telling you, it’s my night here and i’d like to practice now.” your tone was stern.

“no.” he stated simply. you guffawed.

“no?”

“no.” you took a deep breath before turning away.

“y’know what, nevermind.” beginning to walk away you heard the sound of his skates against the ice.

“you giving up that easily princess!?” he yelled after you. you turned back around to find him at the door of the rink, coming towards you.

“can you just not? i’m not in the mood for this today.” turning back around and trudging to the locker room. he caught up to you quickly - the advantage of having long legs - grabbing your arm. you pulled away immediately, walking away faster. at that he put out his stick, knocking it against the blade of your right skate, harder than he intended. you hit the ground before you could try to catch yourself. your knees took the brunt of the fall as well as your palms. turning over to sit down you felt a sharp pain in your ankle. as you lifted to assess it you heard a snap, yout foot fell ungracefully. looking down, a piece of the blade of your skate lay next to your shoe.

“shit.” Suguru muttered under his breath. “i- i’m sorry.” you wouldn’t look up at him, staring at your broken skate. he heard your shuddering breath before he saw a tear fall and soak into your stockings. “um- here, let me-”

“asshole.” he reached to help you up but you pulled away. unlacing your other skate and ripping it off, you shot up, grabbing your skates along with the broken blade, stumbling before quickly limping away. “you’re such a fucking asshole.” sniffling and wiping your face, you headed to the locker room. he followed after. “just go away.”

“stop being such a bitch and let me help you.” you stopped and whipped around to face him.

“i’m being bitch?” you questioned exasperatedly. “you broke my fucking skate and i’m being a bitch?!” he had never heard you speak so crudely. you’ve called him an asshole on multiple occasions, him and Satoru but he’d never heard you say fuck. it’s like you refused. “look at what you did! you’ve been torturing me since junior year and i’m the fucking bitch! do you know how much these cost?! how much new ones will cost?!” you were damn near hyperventilating, pacing back and forth.

“i’ll get you a new pair.” you scoffed and put your hands on your hips, facing the wall, the shoes in each one of your hands.

“you'll get me a new pair. you’ll get me a new pair?! do you even know where these came from?!” you were in distress, overwhelmed, Suguru seemed to have that effect on you. “you can’t just get me a new pair, Geto. i can’t believe you.” your voice broke. “i- i always knew you were a dick but i really didn’t you’d go so far to break my skates.”

“it’s really not that big of a deal.” he rolled his eyes.

“not a big deal?” you finally turned to face him, the look on your face did something to him, it actually made him feel… bad. “they were from my grandfather, he made them for me in junior year and the guy who made them closed shop the next year. you can’t get another pair.” shit. shit. he fucked up, bad. he was in too deep now, if he owned up to it now then that would means he’s wrong and Suguru Geto he never been wrong. well, not if you ever asked him.

“this wouldn’t have happened if you had just left.”

“it’s my night Geto, you knew that!”

“yeah well i needed the practice.”

“what the fuck did you think i needed?”

“come on, we both know which one of us is more important here.” you were pissing him off, he was deflecting.

“you can’t be serious.”

“i am. nobody takes you fucking serious, nobody cares about watching you parade around on the rink in your small little fucking skirts.” you looked up to the ceiling and nodded your head.

“right.” you turned away from him. “you’re right.” you walked away, he heard you go into the locker room and he went back to the ice. eventually he heard the front doors open and close.

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

for the next three weeks he had not seen you come into your wednesday practices. he purposely came to the ones he knew you would be at but you had never showed up. he would wait until closing time, staying until the custodial staff would kick him out, you never appeared. he noticed you were in and out of your classes as well. you had the same classes together everyday, civics and economics, some days you would be there but have your head down and constantly checked your phone. other days you weren’t there at all. he had asked your professors if he could have your papers, to make sure you were getting them but each of them had replied that you didn’t need them, you were all caught up.

you didn’t come to your teams practices either, luckily you had always taught them the drills you came up with way beforehand. if Suguru had ever cared to look deeper into who you are (which he’d never admit that he did) he would maybe, possibly, just maybe own up to the fact that he might admire the way you carried yourself. you’re a great captain, an amazing skater, and an even better student. you’re just up there with him and Satoru. he’ll never tell you that though. he oftentimes wondered what you thought about him. did you think he was smart? a good skater? do you think he’s attractive? he wants to know if you think of him the way he thinks of you. he’ll never ask.

eventually you came back. two more weeks of not being there, then, he saw you again. you were in class, back at practice, running drills and laughing with your friends. but he noticed something different, you were more reserved, if you weren’t with your friends you weren’t with anyone at all. your smile didn’t reach your eyes like it usually did. after practice you left immediately, not waiting for everyone to leave like you usually did. you were out of the door before anybody could say bye. you weren’t you. Suguru looked after you, even if you weren’t aware, he did. he made sure when him and Satoru picked on you they never went too far. when he heard other guys on the team talk about you, he shut it down almost immediately. Suguru cared, he’d never outright show it or tell you but he did.

even now that you’re back you still weren’t coming to your wednesday practices. at some point he stopped going for “practice” and would wait for you to walk through the doors. you never did. he got around to asking one of your teammates, Yari, where you had been. she told him you found a new rink, a better one. apparently you knew the manager well and he would give you the space for two nights a week. she had said you lucked out, the rink was spacious and had more to offer. Suguru thanked Yari by finger-fucking her in the back office. she walked out dazed with a blissed out smile on her face while he sat… disgusted. he didn’t even like her. he didn’t like a lot of the girls he slept with, he just did. building up a reputation of one of the best fucks on campus, besides Satoru of course.

he’s always wanted one girl. he’s always wanted you but you’ve never paid him any mind. around campus he’s heard about you, the boyfriend you had in junior year, how much he hurt you and how you swore off relationships after. choosing to focus on school like you had promised yourself you would once entering the university. Suguru had a girlfriend, plenty of them. they never lasted, he couldn’t stay tied down to one girl. eyes always wandering. he broke up with them before it got too serious. he liked them enough to get with them just… not enough to stay.

walking into class you were heading to, looking at your phone checking your grandfather's location to make sure he was home like you told him to be. stopping in your tracks when you came across big black combat boots. looking up he had an all black outfit to match, like usual. his hair was down in a low bun, some strands framing his face. rolling your eyes and breathing out a sigh as you looked at him.

“what do you want?” sitting up in his - your - seat he sat down his pencil on the desk.

“you weren’t here.” he shrugged.

“so you took my seat?” he could see the annoyance bleeding onto your face.

“it’s not like you were here to stop me.” you just looked at him like he was stupid.

“fine.” moving away and three rows behind him, you plopped down into a random desk. he grabbed all his stuff and took up the desk next to you. you looked at him before looking away and to the window. your leg started bouncing up and down. “you just don’t give up do you?”

“give up what?”

“what do you want, Geto?” you turned towards him. “what do you want? you want me to cry again? you want me to grovel?”

“no. i just-”

“then what?”

“i was gonna say sorry but never-fucking-mind.”

“you were gonna say sorry?” you laughed in his face. “that’s a good joke, Geto.” for some reason that got on his nerves.

“what? i can’t apologize?”

“it’s not that you can’t. you don’t.” you’re right. “i don’t care anyway. so even if you do, it doesn’t matter.” he didn’t know what to say so for the rest of class he sat in silence. when the bell rang you packed your things up and left quickly. it was the last class of the day and he watched the direction you went in, he knew where you were headed so he followed. when you walked into the rink it was completely empty. you stopped in your tracks.

“all practices were canceled today.”

“you’re telling me now?”

“you didn’t get the email?”

“obviously not, Geto.” turning to leave you push past him but he grabs your arm. looking up into those brown eyes of his you try to pull away but he grips harder. “can you let go now?”

“why do you act like that?” you look at him confused.

“act like what.”

“like you hate me.”

“maybe cause i do.” you rip away from him, heading to the doors. he quickly catches up and blocks you from leaving. you let out a huff and try to push past him. “move.”

“you don’t hate me.”

“why wouldn’t i?” you look up at him. “hm? you make fun of my uniforms. you always say my drills suck. you and Satoru make fun of my team and my sport. you comment on the way i skate. hell, you broke my skates. skates i can’t get back. so why wouldn’t i?”

“hate isn’t in your vocabulary.” he states, simply. he’s right, it’s not but would you let him know that?

“yeah? how would you know?” he stared at you, questioning whether you did hate him or not. you were right, how would he know? pulling away from him you turn towards the locker rooms, if practice was canceled here today you would go somewhere else. he watched you for a second, contemplating leaving before he followed after you quickly. grabbing your things from your locker you watched him walk into the women’s locker room. “you’re not supposed to be in here-” he rushed over to you and before you could finish your sentence, his lips covered yours. his kiss was rough, lips moving over yours hurriedly, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. your arms stayed at your side and your eyes were wide. you pushed him away, making space between your bodies. “what is wrong with you?” you were panting, chest rising and falling quickly.

he moved in again, lips back on yours, this time you didn’t pull away. your bag fell off your shoulders and your new skates fell to the ground. your lips met his harshly, your fingers tangling in his hair. you pulled him down towards you, hunching him over. his hands slid around your waist to grip onto your shirt. he pushed you back into the lockers, the metal clanging as your body met them, he quickly spun you around, your torso pressing into the metal. he sucked on your ear and trailed wet kisses down your neck, the metal ball of his tongue piercing trailing down your skin. he panted into your skin as he ground his hardening cock on your ass.

“if you’re gonna fuck me Geto, get it over with.” you breathed. his hand wrapped around your neck, arching your back and resting your head against his shoulder.

“is that how you should talk to me? i’ll leave you right here.”

“your loss.” you shrugged, pushing him away to grab your things. before you could stray too far he pushed you back against the lockers. he made quick work of unbuttoning his pants and tugging them down just below his dick then, he pulled down your sweatpants, they pooled around your ankles. he ground his cock into your backside and groaned into your neck. his precum dripped on your back as he humped your ass. “hurry up.” you grumbled. sliding his tip through your folds, he pressed into your hole, sliding in only the tip before slipping back out. he did this over and over again until you were huffing in annoyance.

behind you, his face was beet red. he was panting, teasing you and himself in hopes of dragging this out for as long as he possibly could. finally over it, you stamped your foot down, ready to completely push him off of you. he didn’t give you the chance, stuffing his cock all the way into you at once, shuffling forward to press his entire body into yours. you yelped out as his entire length throbbed in you, shaping your ways to accommodate for every ridge and vein. he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, so thick you’re sure your walls are stretched to the fullest and so long you could feel him in your throat.

“oh, fuck.” he moaned behind you. his heart was pounding in over-exertion. he was focusing so hard on trying not to cum so soon. he gave you time to adjust and time for himself to calm down before he busted before he even started. he groaned into your neck as you clenched around him, trying to get used to his girth.

“fuck, move.”

“you sure?”

“please, come on, just move Geto.” he nodded his head. giving one exploratory thrust, trying to gauge how you feel, how he'd feel. he moaned as his cock moved in and out of you. he could already feel the coil winding up within his lower stomach, he wasn’t gonna last. he thrust again, a whimper escaping his lips. your eyebrows raised at the noise. he whimpered. he started to develop a rhythm, hips moving languidly against yours. his hands moved up your body, gripping your boobs through your shirt, you’re not wearing a bra. he pinched your nipples through your shirt and a noise escaped your lips. the prettiest moan fell from your lips.

he angled his hips differently and he hit that certain spot in you just right. a louder moan exited your mouth and he whimpered at it. your moans are so pretty, so pretty they made his dick throb. little “ah, ah, ah’s” left your lips at each thrust, everything about him took over your entire being. all you could feel was his hands on your body, all you could smell was his cedarwood and vanilla cologne. you were drowning in him, every sense revolved around him. Suguru couldn’t feel anything else besides your tight walls gripping him. you were so tight around him his eyes rolled back. he’d never been so vocal before, let alone whined to a girl he was fucking.

you brought something in him, something he didn’t know existed. a need. a need for him to express how good you’re making him feel. “faster.” he shook his head against your shoulder. “come on, Geto, faster.”

“i can’t, fuck,” he whined. “i’ll cum, i’ll fucking cum and it’ll all be over.”

“already?” you moaned out a scoff. “i’m not even close, Geto.” he thrust into you faster. his length continuously brushing over you g-spot. one hand that was gripping your boob moved down to rub circles over your clit. his fingers were nimble and quick but messy. the circles are uncoordinated but good enough to make your thighs shake. you're so wet it's dripping down your thighs and getting on his, his hand is soaked now.

“stop calling me that.” he whined. “say my name.”

“that is your name-”

“no. my name please.” he sounded so pretty whining for you.

“Suguru.” he moaned. “i’m gonna cum, Suguru.” you were the one whining now.

“please.” he rubbed your clit faster, hurriedly thrusting into you. you met him thrust for thrust, moving with him. “fuck, just like that, princess.” the claps of skin on skin could be heard throughout the locker room. you pray to whatever God out there that no one is here. “i’m gonna cum, i need you to first.” he licked a stripe up your neck, leading to your ear before he bit at your lobe. his nose pressed into your ear and he panted into your skin, harsh breaths against you. all the stimulation was getting to you, his fingers rubbing at your clit, his other hand grabbing your boob, his mouth breathing heavily against you and biting at you. the final straw was when he moved his hand from your chest to your neck, squeezing slightly, just enough to make your breathing labored and make you dizzy. your head fell to his shoulder and you dear damn screamed out as you came.

your thighs shook violently as you creamed around Suguru. the essence of your orgasm dripping down his cock. his mouth dropped open as he felt you clench and unclench around him. he moaned out as he felt his own orgasm creeping up on him. “pull out.” you whimpered. “Suguru, pull out.” he didn’t want to, God, he didn’t want to. finally building up enough strength, he pulled out. his hand wrapped around his tip, jerking his cock quickly, your wetness helping his hand glide smoothly up and down his skin. the first spurt of his cum landed on your back, the warm fluid dripped down your back. the rest came and he moaned with each one. his chest heaved as he came, possibly the hardest he has since his first time, maybe better than that. there was so much of it too, long thick strings painted on your back. he removed his grip from his dick and ran his thumb through the small puddle on your back, smearing it across your skin.

“that was…” he huffed out a breath, smiling up at the roof.

“yeah, let’s not talk about it.” you were quick to pull up your pants.

“what?” Suguru followed after, pulling up his pants, buttoning them, and buckling his belt. “i thought- i thought it was good. you thought it was good right?” you gathered all your things and headed to the door.

“it was fine.”

“just fine?” you were rushing to the front door. “come on, it was more than just fine. Y/N, look at me.” you kept going, not sparing him a glance. “come on.” he reached out for you, grabbing your shoulder and turning you to him. “look at me.”

“for what?!” you yelled at him. “for what? it happened. you can go brag about it.”

“you think i’m gonna brag about it?”

“that’s what you do, Geto. you fuck some girl and go tell the team about it or some boy in your frat. next thing you know the whole school knows about it and that girls just some whore. i’ve gone this fucking long without being caught up in this shit and you corner me once now i’m one of them.” tears built up in your eyes. “at least give me the courtesy of not saying my name.” you walked away from him, leaving him to stand alone, stunned.

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Geto didn’t tell anyone. it’s been two weeks and he hasn’t muttered a single word about what happened in the rink. he didn’t even tell Satoru, the only person in the world he tells everything. ever since it happened you wouldn’t even look at him. if he caught your eyes you would immediately cast yours down. you went back to avoiding him and he hated it, he fucked up. he still can’t explain what came over him that night, he doesn’t know why it happened but he can’t take it back now. he thought it would open the door for something, some way in for him. it didn’t.

one of your friends, Reí, had noticed something was up with you. you were quieter, there was this awkward air to you. she approached you one day when you were leaving class.

“hey, what’s up with you?” you were heading to the quad, it was lunch time and you had some extra work you’d like to get done, you figured fresh air would be good for you.

“nothings up with me.” you chuckled awkwardly. you took a seat on a bench under a shady tree. the sky was a little muted today, the fall season in full effect, it wasn’t a bright day like it usually would be. the sky not a bright blue and the sun not shining as much as it would. it seemed as though the earth was reflecting your mood.

“come on, Y/N/N, be honest with me.” she laughed. “what’s up?” you huffed a bit as you looked over your campus. a gust of wind blew past you, blowing your hair over your shoulder.

“i fucked up.” you whispered.

“you? you never fuck up.” Reí tried to joke.

“i did, i do. i- i don’t know.” you began to pick at your nails.

“what happened?” you sighed before turning to look her in her eyes.

“there’s this guy.”

“a guy?”

“yeah.”

“so… what about this guy? do you like him? is that it, you like a guy?”

“no. i don’t like this guy, that’s the problem.”

“well Y/N/N, i don’t think it’s that much of a problem. you don’t like him, it can’t be that serious. right?”

“we fucked.”

“oh!”

“we fucked and i don’t know what to do.” you sobbed, tears running down your face. Reí moved closer and pulled you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you and petting your hair. she shushed you as you cried into her neck. “i don’t do that type of thing and- and ever since J i haven’t done anything and then this one guy comes out of nowhere and just fucks it all up!”

“it’s ok, we all have flings in college, it’s cool.”

“no! it’s not just a fling, Reí, i hate this guy.” your sentences came out in broken sobs. “that was never supposed to happen and now when everyone finds out they’re gonna think i’m some slut for letting it happen.” you pulled back to look at her, your lower lip trembling as you spoke.

“why would anybody think that?” she tucked pieces of your hair behind your ear and wiped your tears.

“cause that’s what everybody thinks.” you looked down and played with your hands. “everyone here thinks all the girls here who have sex are nasty.” you looked back up to her. “i don’t wanna be nasty.” you pouted.

“aww, baby, no one’s gonna think you’re nasty.”

“yes they will.” you nodded at her. “you should’ve heard what they said when me and J broke up. he told them what we did. he told them i let him take my virginity and everyone called me really mean names.” you swallowed harshly. “it took months for everyone to forget about that, until the next thing happened everyone was so mean. i didn’t even do anything! i thought i was just being a good girlfriend.”

“what do you mean?” she gave you a puzzled look.

“J wanted to have sex.” you looked into her eyes. “i told him i wasn’t ready but he told me everyone else was doing it. he said that we should too and i’d be the best girlfriend. i didn’t even know what i was supposed to do.”

“Y/N/N he didn’t… did he?”

“no. i told him it was ok but i regretted it after. he got mad i didn’t wanna do anything anymore so he broke up with me.” another tear trailed down your face. “he told almost everyone. all the girls laughed at me and all they guys called me a prude. said i wasn’t even worth it.”

“he was a dick, Y/N/N. he wasn’t worth it and i’m so sorry that happened.” you shrugged at her. “but, what does this have to do with this guy?” she tilted her head, her pretty brown hair falling over her shoulder.

“cause he’s a dick too. he’s a dick and i know he’s gonna tell everyone.”

“how long ago was it?”

“like… two weeks ago?”

“well, i haven’t heard anything and y’know, most guys wouldn’t wait two weeks to start telling everyone who he fucked, right?”

“i guess.”

“look, i know this is a lot to think about, how about we get your mind off it. let’s go get some lunch, on me?” she was hopeful, she didn’t want to watch you sulk, you’re one of the best and brightest people she knows. you shook your head.

“i have some stuff to do.” you whispered.

“ok. fine, ok. you want me to sit with you?”

“no. i wanna be alone if that’s ok.”

“sure. just- just let me know if you need anything, yeah? i’m always here.” you gave her a nod and she leant down to give you a peck on the forehead before she walked away. she’d always been a good friend to you. looking back out to the campus, you saw his familiar black hair, in a half up half down style now. he walked with some girl - Yari, from your team - he was walking her to the science building and once they reached the front doors, she turned around and smiled at him. they spoke for a bit before he grabbed her by her chin, pulling her to him and planting a kiss on her lips. once he let go she looked up to him, her eyes sparkling.

your heart clenched.

getting up and gathering your things you stormed off and towards your dorm. retreating there for the rest of the day.

Suguru didn’t mean to get involved with Yari. really, it just… happened. he was upset about the situation between you two and she just so happened to be there. the only reason he’s stayed talking to her for this long is because in some way, she reminds him of you. the way her eyes light up when she looks at him, as if he’s hung the moon and the stars, it reminds him of how you used to look at him way back when. before he fucked you over. before he was so mean to you, how your eyes would shine when you looked at him. if he squinted just enough when looking at her, he could see you. ever since that night in the rink, he’s only wanted to see you. to feel you again, to hold you. his hands have been itching to grab for you whenever you two cross paths. not having you is like living hell. he hates it.

finally leaving Yari, he turns around to head to his own class. making his way across the quad he sees a figure hurriedly walking in some direction. when he looks over at it, he recognizes it’s you. he wants to follow you, so bad. but he knows he shouldn’t, if he did you’d probably have his head on a stake.

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

another week had passed before you started feeling somewhat like yourself again. Reí had decided to take you out a couple of days ago. she took you to the diner not too far off campus, you two talked over milkshakes and french fries. she didn’t pry too much but talking to her made you feel like you had a weight lifted off your chest. it felt great. practice was canceled again today, something about one of the coaches having a family emergency, so the rink was free for the day.

you decided to take it over for the night. one of the custodians told you no one was coming in tonight so you were free to have it. you were trying to get one specific move down, the same one you’ve been trying to learn since freshman year. it was a move all hockey players used. a hockey stop, simple yet, you’d once seen Suguru spin and come to a full hockey stop. you’d wondered how he did it. while your sports were similar there was a clear difference between them. figure skaters were gentle with their movements and it took more agility to follow through with them. hockey players were more aggressive. hockey was about defense and brutality, the players were more up-front and they lacked flexibility.

while you were a figure skater, you did appreciate hockey and had taken a liking to practicing their moves. you’d even introduced some into the choreography of your team, giving some contrast to the ensemble. the harshness of the hockey moves plus the gentleness of figure skating make for a beautiful scene. you’ve mastered the hockey stop, it’s an easy move but when you had watched Suguru do a complete 360 and come to the stop it was something you had wanted to do as well. while you’d seen him do it years ago it never really left your head and with the new choreography you were coming up with, you wanted to include the move.

you were getting closer, you think. well, it was better than before. at first you had completely busted your ass, sliding along the ice and hurting your chin. now most times when you fell, you went down slower. able to catch yourself before you fell on your ass again. as you were practicing you fell again, sitting down and huffing out a breath. the ice nipped at your legs through your tights and you sat for a second, looking up at the roof before looking down to play with your hands. what you hadn’t noticed was a guest within the seats, watching you as you tried to ace the move over, and over again.

“you’re putting too much weight on your back foot.” your head shot around quickly, turning to face the booming voice. you rolled your eyes when you looked at him. there he stood, 6 '2'' stature wearing all black, his arms at his side and his jet black hair falling over his wide shoulders.

“can you just go away?”

“can i help you?” the question was genuine, he wanted to help. and maybe spend time with you.

“no.”

“why not?”

“cause i don’t want your help.” you deadpanned. Suguru got up and walked away, you thanked God he chose to adhere to your request. getting back up, you went to the other side of the rink, skating yourself across the ice. you turned backwards and put your left leg out, turning into a camel spin, both your arms placed straight out to your sides. bringing your leg back down for an upright spin, putting an abrupt stop to the turn you jut out your right leg for the hockey stop. just as you thought you had gotten it, you fell back onto your palms. sitting back down and heaving out another sigh, you were ready to give up for the day. just as you were ready to go, you heard the doors to the rink being opened. you turned to see Suguru walking onto the ice. falling out and splaying yourself along the ice you groaned quite dramatically.

“get up.” he stood over you.

“i told you to go away.” you looked to him, one eye closed as the light shined in it.

“i told you i was going to help.”

“i don’t need your help. i’m done.” you sat up, getting on your knees to stand up fully. Suguru grabbed your arm pulling you up and into him. “can you get off of me?” instead of responding, he started skating to the opposite side of the rink, dragging you along with him. once you reached the corner, he let go.

“show me.” he gestured to the rink.

“yeah, i’d rather not.” you were going to walk away but he grabbed you and turned you towards the open space of the rink.

“you want to get it down right? show me.” his voice was soft as he spoke to you. you contemplated for a second. you could leave and go home or you could get help from the person who inspired the move. going home seemed like a really good option. getting into position, you started skating before doing just as you had done before, camel into an upright spin and full hockey stop. once again tipping over and landing on your ass. “like i said, you’re putting too much weight on your back foot, that’s why you keep falling back. and you can’t just stop, it’s too much force, you need to build up some sort of momentum so there’s something to combat the weight of your body.” his arms were crossed over his chest as he spoke to you, muscles bulging even through his black shirt. you were staring at the veins in his hands before you quickly brought your eyes up to his then looked away.

“sure.” taking up your spot next to him you did as he said, once again a camel into an upright spinning and once your right foot met the ice again, you gave yourself a slight push before coming into the hockey stop. this time you didn’t fall onto your ass, landing on one of your knees instead. slightly better.

“you’re not compensating enough for your own weight, look.” Suguru started his own skate and turned into a spin, not exactly an upright one but close enough. as the turn came to a close, he pushed himself forward again, quite harshly, before stopping. “see, you need a counter for yourself. just stopping isn’t enough to carry you. now you do it.” this time when you did it, following through with an extra push, you didn’t fall. instead you had tripped forward and bumped into the wall. “now you’re putting too much weight on your front foot. you need to find a balance. do we have to run first year training drills?”

“i’m not some freshman, Geto. i know what i’m doing.” you snapped.

“do you?” you stared at him quizzically before giving up.

“nevermind. i’m done.” walking away you headed to the door.

“wait.” you paused. “i- i don’t mean to be rude or anything. i’m actually trying to help.”

“you think you’re gonna help by demeaning my skill set? i’m captain for a reason.”

“i’m not trying to. i’m captain too, remember?”

“we play two different sports.”

“yeah, and you’re trying to perfect one of my moves. let me help you.”

“i can do it by myself.” you turned to face him.

“i’m not saying you can’t. but i know it pretty well and i can show you how to do it.” you stared at him blankly. “listen, if… if i help you get this right, you can teach me some moves from your team.” that got your attention.

“really?”

“yeah.” you slowly skated to him.

“ok.” for the next hour, Suguru had shown you how to incorporate a hockey stop into your routine. you had finally gotten to a point where you didn’t fall at all. the move could use a little work but it was way better than what you had before. once you had finally gotten it, you were so excited you jumped with glee, somehow making your way into Sugurus arms. his large arms had wrapped around you as you hugged him. when you noticed where you were, you immediately backed out of his embrace.

“sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you began to slowly skate backwards.

“i should go now, it’s pretty late.” your voice came out quietly and you pointed behind you. Suguru began to skate toward you.

“or, we can stay, practice a little longer?”

“i- um, i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” he was in front of you. you had skated yourself so far back and somehow, into a wall.

“cause.”

“because?” there’s a small space left between your bodies and Suguru had reached forward, pulling you into him, he leaned down, inching his face closer to yours. “because what?” he whispered against your lips.

“cause- um,” he pressed himself closer to you, torso to torso. “cause-” you didn’t get to finish your sentence as he gently pressed his lips to yours. you sighed into his mouth as your lips met. you wrapped your arms around his neck, falling into him as you breathed him in. he deepened the kiss, parting your lips with his own and sliding his tongue against yours. you moaned into his mouth and he groaned against yours. suddenly, reality hit you and you pulled away. “what is wrong with you?”

“huh?”

“don’t act dumb, Geto, oh my God. i- i can’t.”

“can’t what?” you pressed a hand to your forehead and began to skate away.

“what are you gonna tell your girlfriend?”

“girlfriend? i- i don’t-”

“what?” you turned back to him. “she doesn’t have to know? don’t give me that.”

“Y/N, what fucking girlfriend are you talking about.”

“Yari!” you exhaled, exasperated.

“Yari’s not my girlfriend.”

“so you’ve been doing this with her too? what, you fucked her in the locker room like you did me? does your girlfriend know about her-”

“i don’t have a girlfriend!” he yelled over you.

“then why do i always see you with Yari?!”

“see me with her? i’m never with her.”

“yes you are, Suguru! you’re always with her! i see you parading around campus with her, walking her to class, sitting out on the quad with her. she- she comes to practice talking about you.” you began picking at your nails.

“i-” he didn’t know what to say, you’re right, he’s always with her. it’s not his choice, she just follows him around everywhere. he told her to leave him alone last week but she swore they had something special, that she loved him and knew he loved her too. talk about delusional.

“so i’m right?” you scoffed. deciding to exit from the conversation, you began to skate to the exit. Suguru quickly caught up, grabbing your hand, he turned you to him.

“you’re wrong.” you just stared at him, a glazed over look in your eye. “she’s not my girlfriend. yeah, ok, we did something but that was it. i fucked with her for a while but i told her i didn’t like her, she just- she won’t leave me alone. i don’t have a girlfriend, at all. i don’t want one.”

“so what’s this supposed to be?” you gestured between the two of you with your free hand.

“i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then what did you mean?”

“Satoru’s having a thing tomorrow night,”

“i don’t do parties.”

“it’s not a party,” he rushed out. “Satoru said it’s just a little get together with some friends. can you stop by? maybe we can talk then?” you wanted to say no, there’s nothing to talk about but your mind didn’t have time to catch up with your body. you were nodding your head before a word could be muttered. “ok.” he let go of your hand, it was then that you realized your fingers were intertwined.

when you finally got back to your room that night, you screamed into a pillow. every pent up emotion that was building inside of you from spending so much time with Suguru escaping as you yelled. you couldn’t believe you let him get to you, again. and you can’t believe you agreed to meet him tomorrow night. what was wrong with you.

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

the next day flew by, your classes went by smoothly, Suguru staring at you from across the room in the ones you had together. practice was a little rushed, it was a friday and a break was coming up, everyone was excited to get out. now you sat in your dorm, staring at your phone as the time ticked by. it was 7:23, Suguru never gave you a time to show up. what time were you supposed to come? were you already late? would he be mad? you sat for another hour, finally leaving the comfort of your room and heading across campus to the frat house.

walking up to the house, lights were flashing and music was booming. people were sitting outside, all huddled up because of the cold, passing around a blunt. “so much for a ‘small get together.’” you muttered to yourself. approaching the front door, you walked in and were immediately hit with the smell of a college party. sweaty bodies jumped and rubbed against each other, others were making out somewhere in a corner. looking over the area, you tried to spot his tall stature and black hair. when you didn’t see him you moved into the crowd. walking through the people and moving to the kitchen, you grabbed a water bottle before going back to searching around. after searching for a while, you gave up, finding one of his frat brothers instead. “have you seen Suguru?” he looked you up and down before responding.

“you that crazy bitch?”

“huh?”

“you that crazy bitch?” he said, more pointedly.

“what crazy bitch?”

“what’s her name? um, she’s on the figure team.”

“Yari?”

“yeah! that’s you?”

“i’m not Yari.” he squinted his eyes before shrugging.

“upstairs, second door to the left. knock.” that’s all he said before turning to walk over to a group of girls, they all looked at you weird before he approached them. going up the stairs, you almost made it to the top before you saw him. his broad stature leaned against a wall, hair tied back in a bun, his arms crossed over his chest as he spoke. he sat talking to some girl, eyes hooded as he looked at her, a smirk on his face. you stared at the two, her short brown hair falling to one side as she tilted her head. walking back down the steps, especially quiet so they wouldn’t hear you, you headed back to the kitchen. you leaned against the counter, gripping the sides. ok, if he wants to be all over every girl, you can be all over every guy.

stomping out of the kitchen you looked around before making your way to the makeshift dance floor. you slipped in between the bodies, finding your way to the middle. settling into the people grinding on each other, you tapped the shoulder of some random guy, Haibara his name is, another brother of the frat, you asked if he wanted to dance. he looked between you and the girl he was dancing with before completely turning to you, letting out and enthusiastic, “sure!” you heard the girl mutter something before she walked away angrily. turning around, you pulled the boy closer to you, pressing your ass to his crotch, you heard a stuttered breath escape his lips.

you placed his hands on your hips and swayed slowly, grinding against him to the beat of the song. you saw Suguru make his way down the steps slowly, one arm hanging over the shoulder of the girl, they laughed together loudly. out of spite, you dragged one of Haibara's hands up your body slowly. his breathing grew heavier behind you. you knew he was shy, one of the more reserved brothers of the frat. he only joined because Satoru and Suguru made Nanami join and by association, him. you felt bad, you weren’t sure what he was comfortable with and here you were making him feel you up. he didn’t seem to care though, pulling you closer and laying his forehead on your shoulder. Suguru saw you from across the room, eyes locking onto you and the figure behind you. you saw him whisper something in the girl's ear and she looked over too, she gestured to you and Haibara, Suguru kissed her forehead quickly and let go.

he quickly made his way over to you two. when he reached you, he grabbed your forearm and pulled you away from the brunette boy. “hey- oh! what’s up Suguru.” Haibara smiled.

“nothing.” he dragged you along with him as he walked away, taking you to the steps.

“let go of me.” you tried to pull away but his grip grew more firm. “Suguru let go-” he spun you around when you reached the first step pushing you up against the wall. people around stared for a while before going back to minding their business.

“Haibara?” he questioned, his nostril flaring as he breathed.

“what?”

“i come downstairs cause someone told me you’re looking for me and i catch you fucking with Haibara?”

“why does it matter?” you rolled your eyes.

“cause it fucking does.”

“but it doesn’t matter when it’s you though, right?”

“what are you talking about.”

“i go upstairs to find you and i see you laughing and giggling with some girl? the same thing with Yari. it’s cool when you do it, right?”

“some girl?” he stared at you for a second before he started laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he continued to laugh, damn near hunched over now.

“aww, princess.” he stood back up, you glared at him. “you jealous?”

“jealous?” you said incredulously. “why would i be jealous of anything you do?”

“that was Ieiri, princess, my best friend.”

“oh…”

“yeah and i told you i don’t like Yari.”

“you don’t act like it.” was your quick reply.

“ok.” he stepped back. “go upstairs.”

“for?” he stepped back into your personal space.

“go upstairs, when i get up there i want you sitting down in just that pretty little set i know you have on for me.” he whispered in your ear. your face felt like it was on fire.

“i- i don’t have on a set.”

“i know you do, princess.” he walked away, going to the kitchen, before he passed the threshold he looked back to you, raising his eyebrow at you. you turned around and walked up the steps, going straight to his room. once you entered, you contemplated for a second, would you really do this? yes. you took off your shirt first, letting it fall to the floor, you fixed the cups of your pretty bra before unbuttoning your pants. you let them pool around your ankles before kicking them off. you sat on the bed, tucking your legs under yourself and placing your hands on your knees. you sat there for maybe two minutes picking at your thumbs. the door opened and you jumped a bit.

Suguru entered with two water bottles in his hands and something wrapped up. he smiled when he saw you sitting so prettily on his bed. you stood out against his dark sheets. the bright pale blue and pinks of your lingerie contrasting with his dark gray bedspread. “you look so pretty like that.” he sat the things in his hands down and walked over to you, cupping his hand under your chin and tilting your head up. he ran the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it down and then letting it pop back up into place. he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, it quickly grew messy, “open.” he murmured against your lips. you parted your lips, looking up to him with wide eyes. he let a glob of spit from his mouth fall into yours. “swallow.” he watched your throat bob up and down, you could taste the fruit punch he drank earlier. he tasted sweet. “sit back and spread your legs for me.” you looked up at him as he stood back up, leaning himself against his dresser. “you gonna do it or do i have to make you?”

you crawled up to his headboard slowly on all fours, he watched you, his cock twitching in his pants as he watched you ass sway side to side. he cleared his throat as you settled against his pillows. you spread your legs for him, watching him from across the room. “what do you want me to do?” you asked in a whisper.

“i want you to fuck yourself on you fingers like you do when you think of me.”

“i-”

“what?”

“i don’t think of you.”

“come on, princess, we both know you do. why else would you get your panties in a twist when you see me with another girl?” you sighed, looking down at yourself. “pull those pretty little panties to the side and spread yourself open on your fingers.”

“ok.” you whispered. your fingers twitched nervously, not sure what to do with him staring at you.

“just pretend i’m not here, pretty girl, it’s ok.” you nodded your head. everything around you was so irrecoverably him, the sheets were soft against him and smelled like him, so warm. if you focused hard enough you could hear his breathing from across the room. closing your eyes you began to slowly trail your fingers down your body, hyper aware of your own touch. you dragged your fingers back up your stomach and to your chest, cupping your boobs through your bra. “take it off.” you obliged, quickly unclipping the offending garment and letting it fall off the side of the bed. “fuck.” you could hear the sound of a zipper and some shuffling. pinching your nipples you let out a soft sound, tweaking both of them between your thumb and forefinger. letting one hand trail down your body again, you dragged it down and began to run circles over your clit on top of your underwear.

“Suguru.” you moaned softly. he groaned at the noise. you slipped your hand into your underwear, the stimulation sent sparks up your spine. dragging your fingers down to your hole, you circled it before slipping your middle finger in. you could hear a wet noise coming from where he is and the idea of him pulling on his cock to your fingering yourself pulled a moan out of you. slipping another finger into yourself, you moved them faster, the pads of them rubbing against your walls.

“go faster. wanna hear it.” he panted. wanted to hear it..? oh. oh. he wanted to hear the sound of your wetness as you fucked yourself. your back arched as you fucked yourself faster. your other hand continued to tweak at your nipple. you moaned out as you felt your stomach clench.

“Suguru! i’m gonna cum!” your toes curled and you whimpered. you could hear his stuttered breathing and he jerked himself off.

“let me see, pull your panties down.” he panted. your hand quickly moved to tug the gusset of your panties to the side. Suguru watched your fingers move in and out of you. his dream was finally coming true, the one girl he wanted was splayed out on his bed, fucking herself on her fingers, moaning out his name. his orgasm was building up quickly, he was going to bust everywhere from just watching you. you clenched around your fingers, mouth dropping open as you orgasm washed over you. you arched off the bed, moaning Sugurus name over and over again. he watched as you came, the way your essence dripped around and seeped through your fingers, how your chest raised and fell as you breathed heavily. Suguru groaned as he played with his tip, thumb running over it and you looked at him when you heard the noise.

“Sugu,” you whined. “wanna see you cum,” his jaw dropped and a small noise escaped his lips. “please.” he came all over his hand and the floor. spurts of his cum falling from his tip and he groaned as he came. you’re gonna be the death of him. once he regrouped, he walked over to you, kneeling above you as he looked into your eyes. he grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips and taking the two fingers that were just inside of you and putting them in his mouth. you moaned as he sucked on your fingers and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“you taste so good, princess.” your hand fell from his mouth back to your side. “wanna taste for myself, flip over.” you took too long to listen to him so he flipped you over himself. he had you on your hands and knees, back arched for him. he went behind you, watching your pretty pussy drip for him. “fuck.” he whispered to himself. one hand rubbed over your ass as the other pulled your panties down. you kicked them off completely and he sniffed them before dropping them off the bed. “count.”

“huh?” slap! one loud clap against your ass, you yelped out at the initial pain but it eventually turned into a pleasurable stinging sensation.

“count.” he said more firmly.

“one,” slap! “two,” slap! “three…” on and on he spanked you again and again. you counted all the way up to eleven before he let up. your ass stung from the spanking but the line between pleasure and pain was blurred. it hurt so bad it felt good. you whimpered when he circled his hands over your ass. before you could recognize what was going on, you felt a stripe being licked from your clit to your clenching hole. “Sugu!” you looked behind you to see him hunched over, sucking harshly on your clit as he spread your ass. another stripe licked up to your hole before he slipped his tongue in, you clenched around it, the cold metal of his piercing contrasted against the warmth of your walls and you swore you saw heaven. you shook as he fucked you with his tongue, falling onto your front your back arched perfectly for him as you pushed back against him.

the sounds were obscene, you could hear his tongue working against you and him groaning into your pussy. you moaned when he landed another slap to your ass, he gripped and jiggled it against his face. “oh my- fuck!” you squealed. he tongue licked and prodded against your walls as he ate you out. your thighs began to tremble, toes curling as your legs shook. his mouth moved down from your hole to your clit and you felt two of his fingers prodding at your entrance. his thick middle and ring fingers stretched you open he slipped them into you. he sucked on your clit and pressed his long fingers into that one spot inside of you. you whined loudly and he fucked you open on his fingers. “S-Sugu,” you slurred. “Sugu i’m gonna cum..!” you squeaked. he continued to work at you and another orgasm was building up in you. you kicked your feet as you felt your orgasm approaching but this felt different.

the coil in your stomach wound up tighter, you felt a pressure on your bladder and you trembled. you reached behind you blindly, grabbing Sugurus head and tangling your fingers in his hair. you felt him moan against you as you did so. “Sugu s-stop, i’m gonna pee.” you whined. he kept going, he either didn’t hear you or didn’t care but either way, he wasn’t gonna stop. “Sugu, wait!” he sucked harder at your clit and pressed his fingers into your g-spot. your toes curled as your back arched and you screamed out. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and all you saw was white. all you felt was your body shaking and wetness dripping down your thighs. your legs trembled at the earth-shattering orgasm and you whined and trembled at every touch you felt. Suguru moaned and groaned behind you, getting absolutely soaked as you squirted all over him and his bed. “Suguru!” you cried out, your feet kicked as he kept going.

“one more, just give me one more princess, i know you can.” you sobbed as he went back to sucking on your clit. another orgasm was building up quickly, your entire body shook as he sucked and prodded at you.

“Suguru,” you cried out. “i can’t.”

“yes you can, i know you can.” he muttered against you. tears were streaming down your face, you shook and trembled with every pass of his tongue. your one hand gripped his hair as the other gripped the sheets. the next orgasm came quickly and you cried out as it took over your body. his bed was almost completely soaked through because of you. the essence of your orgasm streaked down your thighs. he let go of you, sitting back on his knees and your body relaxed. you fell against the sheets, they stuck against your body because of how soaked they were. he watched you take deep breaths, your body slowly calming down. you could feel some shuffling behind you and hear the sound of fabric ruffling. you felt the weight of the bed shift, Suguru leaned above you, trailing kisses up your spine.

you felt his weight against your back as he laid on top of you. he kissed and licked at your neck, breathing into your ear. he took all his clothes off, he laid completely naked on top of you, his bare chest pressing against your back. you could feel everything, every outline of his abs against your back, you could also feel his cock pressing into your ass. grabbing his dick he ran his tips through your folds, collecting your wetness and smearing it along his cock. he pushed your left leg up, spreading you open for him and lifting your ass up so he could slip in easily. he pressed his tip into you, slowly slipping in your walls. you whimpered as you felt him throb within you. “oh, fuck.” he sighed. “you feel so fucking good.” he moaned, resting his head in your neck. you pushed back against him, pressing your ass flush against. he whined into your neck, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“move, please.”

“i can’t.” you got a flashback to the first night he fucked you. “i’ll cum.”

“please, Sugu. please.” you begged.

“ok.” he nodded, “ok.” he thrusted once and whimpered. he built up a steady rhythm, small noises fell from his lips as he fucked himself into you. “so fuckin’ tight, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” he fucked into you harder, the sounds of skin on skin bouncing off the walls of his room. “so much better than those other girls.” your body jerked and you looked behind you. “don’t worry princess, i’m not saying it to make you jealous.” he chuckled. “never had somebody like you, so fuckin perfect. you’re perfect y’know that?” when you didn’t respond he stopped moving. “answer me.”

“yes daddy!” you whined. his eyes crossed and his cock twitched deep within you, he never thought you were one to call somebody daddy, never took you as the submissive type at all. he leaned down over you.

“good girl.” he groaned into your ear. “good fucking girl.” he started moving again, fucking you deeper. his tip nudged your cervix each time from how deep he was and the pain added to your pleasure. you were damn near fucked dumb, any train of thought you had completely gone, all you could focus on was Suguru fucking you. you tightened around him, your orgasm building up in your lower stomach. “fuck, are you close?” you nodded your head. “you gonna cum for me, princess? make a mess all over me, yeah?” one hand trailed down your body, fingers playing with your clit and pushing you closer to the edge. you gripped the sheets hard, you swore you could hear the seams ripping.

“i’m gonna cum, Sugu!”

“hold it.” you shook your head. “you can hold it for me, i know you can.”

“i can’t, i can’t!” you sobbed. “i can’t, daddy, i’m gonna cum, please let me cum.”

“i said ‘hold it,’ right?” your body tensed up completely, your legs locking around Suguru from behind. before you could stop yourself, you were creaming around him. you cried out as you came, eyes crossing and rolling to the back of your head. you squeezed so tight around him he almost slipped out. he groaned as you clenched around him, his face was completely red, eyes hooded as he watched you cum around him. “i thought i told you to hold it.”

“i couldn’t do it.” you sniffled. “‘m sorry daddy.”

“aww, it’s ok baby.” he tucked some of your hair behind your ear, looking at your face. tears stained your face, mascara running down your cheeks, he smiled at you.

“want you to cum, daddy. want you to cum in me.” he groaned at your words, his cock twitched violently inside of you. he completely covered you, laying on top of you and matching his body up with yours. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. he began thrusting into you again, building up a fast pace, chasing his own orgasm.

“i’m gonna cum, right in this pretty little pussy and you’re gonna hold it all inside you. then, you’re gonna walk around the house with it all in you, let everybody know that i did it, let everybody know i’m yours.” let everybody know i'm yours. he wants to kill you. his pace began to falter and he gave a couple of more thrusts before stilling above you. he moaned into your ear, quieting himself by biting your neck. you felt him fill you up, rope after rope of his cum filling you up. you moaned with him, another orgasm taking over your body. Sugurus' body twitched as he came, he sighed out as his orgasm finally passed over him. he relaxed into you, falling on top of you.

“you’re heavy.” he laughed at you, sliding out of you and laying down next to your side. you turned your head to face him, he was already staring at you with a small smile on his face. “what?” your voice was hoarse.

“you’re so pretty,” he said quietly. you looked down before looking back into his eyes.

“thank you.” you whispered. he got up quickly, pulling on his boxer briefs, you sat up, covering yourself with your arms. “where are you going?”

“nowhere.”

“are you leaving?” you asked shyly.

“no, Y/N/N, i’m not leaving.” he walked over to his dresser, grabbing the two water bottles and whatever was wrapped up in the foil. making his way back to the bed, he sat down next to you. “here, drink something, it’ll help your throat.” he opened the water bottle for you. you took it from him and sipped from it slowly. he unwrapped what was in the foil - a sandwich. “eat this.” you took the sandwich from him and ate it. he watched you, he turned over to his nightstand - it was then you noticed the dragon tattoo displayed on his back - he grabbed some wipes and began unpacking them. he wiped the smeared mascara off of your face and wiped some crumbs from the corner of your mouth. “can i?” he gestured to you. you raised an eyebrow at him. “wipe you?”

“oh, you don’t have to.”

“yeah but i want to.”

“ok.” you laid back and opened your legs for him, he got in between them with a new new wipe.

“can you push it out for me?”

“thought you wanted me to keep it all in.”

“just do what i say.” he looked up at you, he looked so good between your legs like this, you’ll have to get him between them like this again.

“yes, daddy.” you rolled your eyes. sighing, you tried your best to squeeze all of his cum out of you. he watched it flow out you in thick globs.

“fuck.” he leaned down, licking at you quickly.

“Sugu!” your thighs closed around his head. “don’t do that. ‘m sensitive.”

“sorry, princess, you just look so good.” he smirked at you. he cleaned you up gently, getting up and searching through his drawers for a shirt and passing you one of his old gray tees. he picked you up and carried you out of the room, you hadn’t even noticed the party had stopped. carrying you to the bathroom and setting you on the sink he grabbed an extra toothbrush and any other thing he thought you would need. “i’m gonna go change the sheets real quick. you can come back to the room when you’re done.” he pecked your lips before exiting the bathroom. you got ready to go to bed, brushing your teeth and washing your face. you dried your hands and left the bathroom. you trekked back into his room, there he sat on the edge of it, scrolling on his phone. he put it down at his side and gestured for you to come over to him. when close enough he grabbed your hips and pulled you to him.

“did you um- did you dry the wet spot?” you asked, embarrassed. his hands rubbed up and down your thighs. your own hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck, his bun was looser now, more hairs framing his face.

“wet spot?” he looked behind him. “oh.” he laughed.

“what’s so funny?” you froze.

“waterproof liner.” you looked at him questioningly. “spilled some shit on my bed once, couldn’t get the stain out so i bought some waterproof liners. do you want to lay down?”

“um, no.”

“why not?”

“cause i should go. y’know, it’s late and i don’t want my roommate-”

“you don’t want to stay here.”

“what? no. that’s not- i’d love to stay.”

“so why don’t you?”

“cause i don’t want you to get tired of me.”

“tired?” you looked down awkwardly.

“i know how this goes, Suguru. i don’t want to stay only to be embarrassed later.”

“i wouldn’t embarrass you-”

“you can’t promise me that.”

“yeah, i can. do you- do you not see how much i care for you?”

“care?”

“i don’t want anybody the way i want you. never have. you make me… you make me feel good.”

“oh-”

“not like that. yeah, you make me feel good.” he chuckled. “but i just, i don’t know, i like the way you look at me.”

“how do i look at you?”

“like you care for me too. i like that. it makes me feel like i mean something.”

“everybody thinks you mean something.” you rubbed at his scalp and he felt shudders down his spine.

“yeah but it’s different. everyone cares cause they think i can do something for them, y’know. it’s fake but when it’s you, it feels right.” your face burned at his words and you looked down shyly.

“oh.” you giggled.

“oh?”

“i didn’t think you liked me like that.”

“why wouldn’t i?”

“cause you’re mean.”

“i am. i’m sorry.”

“you’re sorry?”

“yeah, i just, i didn’t know how to tell you i like you.”

“so you were practically a bully?”

“i guess.” he shrugged and laughed.

“how backwards is that?”

“i’ll have you backwards.” he smirked.

“what does that even mean?!” you laughed.

“wanna find out?”

“huh-” before you could finish, Suguru wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down to the bed next to him. you fell in a fit of giggles and he laughed along with you, silencing you with a kiss. the rest of the tight was spent with shared laughter, kisses, and fingers tangled together. it felt nice, you weren’t used to this side of him. he fell asleep before you, his head resting on his own pillow while one arm stayed on your stomach. you stared at him, watched his eyes flutter under his lids and the way his lips parted as he breathed. you tucked some hair behind his ear and pressed a kiss to his cheek, snuggling into his side, you let sleep overtake you and it may have been the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while. it just felt right to be in his arms.

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

for the next week you were either in Sugurus' room or somewhere out on the town with him. he kept you fed, hydrated, and full of dick. there were marks up and down your body from him, bites, hickeys, scratches, you had them all. all the brothers of his frat gave you a knowing look whenever you left his room, always in one of his shirts. when he took you out, Suguru made sure to always take you to places you’d never been before. which was pretty easy seeing as you spent most of your time cooped up in your dorm or in the rink. you’d found a new favorite diner, they had the best fries and milkshakes. the first time Suguru had watched you dip your fries into your vanilla shake, he stared at you in disgust. you’d forced him to try it, he had a whole fit before you stuffed his mouth with the fries. he shut up after a while and agreed that it wasn’t that bad, he wouldn’t tell you he actually liked it.

eventually Satoru had found out when he just walked into Sugurus room only to find him balls deep inside you. Suguru yelled at him to get out, throwing a shoe at his head. Satoru quickly slammed the door but not before he let out a wolf whistle at the sight. you were mortified, vowing to never show your face to Satoru again. that was in vain as the next morning at breakfast he had walked into the kitchen and stared at you for a while before exiting and making his way back upstairs. Suguru made sure his best friend would never mention it to you again, knowing how embarrassed you felt to be found in such a vulnerable position.

you sat in Sugurus bed scrolling on your phone while his T.V played a random show in the back. he laid next to you asleep, tired from running around from errands all day. he stirred awake, rubbing at his eyes and looking at you. “g’mornin’.”

“Sugu, it’s one p.m.” you snickered.

“oh. good afternoon.”

“hi.” you giggled. “do you wanna-” there was a knock at the door. Suguru went to get up but you grabbed his bicep. “i got it, lay back down.” you went to open the door. turning the knob, a familiar voice broke through the threshold before you could get it all the way open.

“Geto, have you seen Satoru-” Bri paused as she stared at you. “no fucking way.”

“oh. hey Bri.” you chuckled awkwardly.

“you’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

“what?”

“i can’t see Satoru but you can fuck his best friend.” the anger was obvious on her face.

“i didn’t- i don’t-”

“are we fucking serious right now? you’re gonna lie about it. i thought you were a bitch but this is low even for you.”

“i- i never told you you couldn’t see Satoru and we’re not just fucking-”

“just shut up. you practically shouted how much you hated the idea of me and Satoru together. were you jealous? is that what it was? you were mad because i actually had him and you wanted his best friend? when he’s over you next week, don’t come fucking crying to me.” Suguru jumped up from his bed and stormed over to the door.

“watch your fucking mouth when you’re taking to her.” your breathing stuttered and tears built up in your eyes. “no ones fucking jealous of you, i don’t even know why she’s friends with someone like you. Satoru doesn’t fucking like you, he told you that but you keep coming back here cause you think you can change his mind. let me tell you something, no matter how many times you fuck him, it’ll never change.” he stepped closer to her. “all he sees you as is something to nut in, that’s all everybody sees.” her eyes flickered all over his face. “go some fucking where before you embarrass yourself.” he slammed the door in her face and turned around to you. he saw the tears falling down your cheeks and immediately pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you. “i’m sorry. i don’t know what her problem is, she was out of line.”

“it’s fine. she’s right.” you sniffled out.

“how is she right?” he pulled away from you.

“i am a hypocrite.” you cried. “i told her you and Satoru are dicks and then she finds me with you. it’s wrong.”

“hey, hey.” he cupped your face and made you look up at him. “it’s not wrong, you’re right, me and Satoru are dicks but that doesn’t mean she can just talk to you like that.” you looked down to the floor, closing your eyes. “look at me. she’s the one whose jealous. she’s jealous because she knows Satoru doesn’t like her and you’re here with me. she wants to be you, that’s it. don’t listen to her, ok?”

“ok.” you whimpered.

“how about a nap, yeah. sleep and when you wake up we can get milkshakes and fries.” you nodded and let him pull you down to the bed.

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

it took a while for you to cheer up after the situation with Bri. Satoru had stopped talking to her completely after Suguru told him what happened, he’d even apologized for letting it happen when it wasn’t his fault at all. now, you sat on the sides of a rink at a major competition. the TMTC figure skating team had won a spot in a regional competition, schools from four different states were coming to compete and whatever team won got a grant of 7,000 dollars to use to upgrade their schools ice skating rink, an unnecessarily large trophy that sat in a glass case across the rink, and the chance to go to nationals. your team had won the spot at the competition a while ago after winning gold against Kyoto college. while you belonged here, it was proven in the way you participated in the last comp, you were deep in your own head.

you made the team practice non-stop to ace the choreography, making sure everyone was on their a-game. you sat on the bench with your hands on your knees, hands tucked under your chin and one of your knees bouncing up and down. you were nervous, you’d never performed in such a large stadium before, let alone in front of so many people.

Suguru sat in a chair not too far from the rink, close enough to see your features and how nervous you were. he wanted to go out on the ice and hold you, tell you it was ok and he knew you would win because he did. you got this far, you carried your team all the way to this comp, he had no doubt in his mind you would bring gold home. he hoped you knew that as well. your team was up next, two already went before you. it was your time to get ready and you led the team to the locker room. everyone was lacing up their skates in silence, the nerves bouncing off all the girls. once you finished tying your skates you stood in front of them all.

“guys.” you started. “i know i’m not really good at the whole encouraging speech thing but i just wanted you all to know that i’m proud of us. we got all the way here, we made it this far because of our hard work. i don’t want y’all to put too much pressure on yourselves. no matter what we all joined this sport because we love it and it’s fun. we can have fun tonight, don’t let some competitions take the joy out of this. whatever happens tonight, whether we win or we lose, it’s fine. i won’t say i wouldn’t be disappointed if we lost but we got here. we worked our asses off and proved we belong. so when we go out there, i want y’all to show everyone who we are. we’re not just the TMTC figure skating team, we’re girls who all have our own personalities and joined this sport for different reasons. show them that.” everyone clapped and smiled fondly at you, standing up and huddling around. they called for your team on the loud speakers. “alright, this is our time, don’t take it for granted.”

the team left the locker room and you headed out behind them. you all lined up along the ice and waited for your que. the song you had chosen began to play and one by one the line began to disperse. following the choreography you had come up with, the dance started slowly. every girl skated out into a step sequence, their movements following the tempo of the song. the music began to speed up and so did the moves, excluding you there was an even amount of girls on the team, so you paired them in twos. two girls were assigned to each other and executed the choreography together. they did a combination of moves supporting one another. you skated through them, sometimes grabbing onto their waists as they spun around to spin with them, crouching down onto your knees and tucking your head into your shoulders.

the music became louder, the beat progressing and each of your moves becoming harsher, more restricted to display the emotion of the dance. you skated on one leg, through four of the girls, you placed one of your legs down, turning the move onto an upright spin and once you began to spin faster, two sets of hands grabbed your waist stopping you. your turn stopped abruptly, just as you stopped you broke free, skating away from them and towards one wall, just as you reached it, you fell to your knees, turning on them as the rest of the team approached you. they covered your body completely, all of their hands reaching to grab some part of you and just as they moved and light broke through the makeshift cover they made over you, they hoisted you into the air. not too high to the point you’d land dangerously, but enough so you landed and turned, one foot poured out behind you and hands displayed in front of you for balance.

the girls began skating to you quite fast, their moves harsh as they came at you, just before they reached you, they stopped. clasping hands and beginning the next part of the choreo you taught them. while everyone was distracted by their dance, you snuck off into a corner, sitting and waiting for your que. you sat for a minute before your que came up. the girls were lined up once again, like they were when the dance started. they all had their backs turned to you. the music grew again, reaching its crescendo. skating to them, one by one from each row they all turned to you, skating faster and lifting one leg in the air, you held your hands out behind you. bringing that foot back down and jumping, you turned in the air and landed on the opposite foot, now skating backwards, body swaying side to side.

just as you saw the tip of someone’s skate just in your view - strategically placed for you - you brought that leg back down again, pushing yourself forward off the tip of your blade and turning around, you headed for the gap between the girls split directly in the middle. you began to spin again just as you reached the gap some of their hands began reaching for you but stopping the turn, you came to a full hockey stop, falling down into position for a hydroblade. four girls behind you fell dramatically onto another while others began to turn into a sit spin. you laid with your chest pressing against the floor, rising and falling into the ice as you panted. the music stopped abruptly, the rest of the girls falling out of their sitting spins onto the floor as well and for a second all there was was silence. all you could hear was your own breathing before the stadium erupted into loud cheers. claps could be heard all throughout the stadium, whistles and the thumps of people’s boots and sneakers as they jumped.

relaxing and getting up from the ice you turned to the team, everyone was looking around the stadium at all the people clapping for them. from across the arena, Suguru yelled for you. he clapped so hard his hands were red. “that’s my fucking girl!” he goaded, he was so proud of you he felt like his chest could burst. he whooped and yelled for you as you and the team headed back to the locker room. he stood out against everyone else, 6’2” frame wearing all black with jet black hair cheering for some girl on a team wearing a bright pink tutu, it was almost comical. you and the team got undressed in the locker room, all dressed in TMTC tracksuits. you skated back to the rink to sit back on your assigned bench. there are three more teams after you. you had to sit through all of them before the results came in.

the teams after you were so good, you clapped and cheered for them when they finished and it was finally the end of the night. the panelists had called for all teams to come stand in the rink as they announced the winners, the announcements began. people from within the stadium voted on who they wanted to win on the website on their phones, they picked who they thought belonged in first, second and third. the victors for second and third were announced and you let your head hang. you had at least expected third, your performance wasn’t like others, it took a more aggressive approach rather than the usual gentleness of figure skating. maybe you should have stuck to what you knew. preparing for the disappointment of a loss, you began slowly backing away from the team.

“and the first place winner for this year's regional competition is…” silence overtook the audience. “Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College!” you paused, not exactly sure if you heard him right. the crowd broke out in applause, cheers damn near breaking the sound barrier. your team was already at the man with the trophy’s side. they watched you before they all yelled at you to come get your trophy. you skated over to them quickly, Reí held out the trophy for you to grab and as you took it, you fell to your knees. you cried as you held the trophy. the team stood over you, rubbing your back, thanking you for leading them this far. you cried harder.

leaving the large stadium with the large trophy on your hand, everyone behind you was yelling out proudly. some stragglers from the crowd congratulated you as you left. once you got to the parking lot, you saw Suguru leaning against his car. you tried your best to run over to him, placing down the trophy and crashing into him. his arms wrapped around you and lifted you into the air, your feet left the concrete and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “you did it.”

“i did.” you sobbed, so proud of yourself.

“i’m so proud of you. i knew you were gonna win.” you cried into his neck. “you did so good pretty girl, you were the best.”

“you’re just saying that cause you’re fucking me.”

“no.” he placed you down, making you look at him. “that’s not why.”

“then what, Sugu?” he stared at you for a second before he turned around and opened his car door, grabbing something and hiding it strategically so you couldn’t see it. once he turned back to face you his ears were bright red and he huffed out a breath.

“Y/N L/N, will you do me the amazing honor and accept me as your boyfriend?” from behind his back, he pulled a beautiful bouquet of purple and white flowers. your jaw dropped and you looked between him and the flowers. “you gonna answer?”

“yes!” you wrapped your arms around him again. holding him close to you. you pulled back and pressed a messy kiss to his lips, tongues and teeth clashing. “you’re so corny.” you whispered to him.

“what can i say? you bring it out of me.” you laughed together. eventually he led you to the passenger seat, buckling you in and pressing kisses to your face. you stared at him as he got in the car. fondness all over your features, how lucky could you have been?

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

two months later you found yourself in the spot where everything started. back in the now improved locker room of your school, lacing up your skates to head to the ice. Suguru was waiting for you outside, sitting down staring out to the floor. approaching him from behind you tapped his shoulder. “come on.”

“what are we doing here?”

“just come on.” you rolled your eyes. grabbing his hands in your own, you began to walk backwards to the ice, watching him watch you. now on the rink you pulled him closer to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you.

“what are we doing here?”

“why are you complaining?”

“cause,” he whined. “i wanna go back to my room and watch movies with my favorite person.”

“and who’s your favorite person?”

“Satoru.” he deadpanned, you hit his shoulder.

“be serious.” he let out a hearty laugh.

“ok but what are we doing here? it’s late.”

“you remember that one night you told me if i let you teach me the hockey stop, i could teach you one of my own moves?” he groaned and let his head fall back.

“i thought you forgot about that.”

“i did.” you shrugged. “‘till i didn’t.”

“do we have to?” he pouted.

“yes, now stop being a baby. it’ll be easy, i promise.” you led him to the middle of the rink and let go. “ok, watch me.” you began skating away, once far enough you put one leg out. eventually putting it down you turned back to your boyfriend. “easy, right?”

“sure.”

“now you do it.” he began skating forward but as soon as he put his leg up, he stumbled forward, quickly catching himself. you crouched over laughing.

“it’s not funny, Y/N/N.”

“yes it is.” you laughed even harder, he huffed. “ok, ok, i’m sorry, try again.” he kept trying, sometimes stumbling. he complained a lot along the way, asking if you two could just leave. you wouldn’t let him give up, you kept pushing until he finally got it.

“was there a point to this?”

“of course.” you skated from your spot to him, grabbing him and pulling him along with you. beginning to gain speed, you pressed your back to his and placed his hands on your waist. you leaned forward, kicking your leg out as you skated, Suguru watched and knew what you wanted him to do. he did just the same as you, your bodies lined up together and you skated around half the rink like that. putting your leg down to stop you looked at him. “see, i had a point.”

“yeah but my point is better.”

“you didn’t even make a point.”

“yeah i did.”

“then what’s your point?”

“this.” he grabbed your jaw between his hand and planted his lips on yours. he parted your lips with his own and slipped his tongue into your mouth, you moaned around him. cupping the back of your head, he slowly inched you down until you were both lying on the floor. he kissed from your mouth to your neck, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, he trailed his fingertips along your body. his hands ran along the hem of your skirt before he slipped it under the garment. his finger circled your clit and slid down to your entrance. he circled it and felt you flutter before he slid one into you, you moaned when he entered another. you were so wet, soaking his entire hand as he fucked it in you, he stopped just as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“hey!” you whined at him.

“i know, i know. i’ll make it up to you.” he began suckling small marks into the skin and trailing them down your body. leaving kisses down your body as you heaved at the affection. he licked into your belly button before looking at you. “you’re so pretty.”

“you tell me all the time.”

“just making sure you know.” he leaned down to unlace both your and his skates and threw them somewhere across the rink. his hand slithered up your thigh and he gripped the stockings you were wearing under your skirt. “these are so dumb.” before you could reply, you heard the loud rip of the fabric.

“Suguru!” you yelled at him, “i have to wear these out of here!”

“it’ll be fine.”

“they’re my favorite pair.” you pouted.

“i’ll get you some more, ok?”

“fine.” he moves down your body once more, now coming face to face with the wet spot on your panties. he ran his finger over and pushed into your hole slightly, collecting more wetness on the fabric. he pulled your panties to the side. he breathed against your skin, your pussy fluttering as you felt it. he licked your clit, his piercing running over it quickly. he dove straight into it. wasting no time he began eating at you like a man starved. your back arched off the ice, fingers tangling in his hair, you pulled on it roughly and he moaned into you. you guided his head up and down in you, his tongue dragging over your clit, his piercing rubbing over it. he looked up to you and the sight above him was beautiful, your mouth was dropped open and your chest was arched off the floor. one of his hands began to run circles over your hole, he slipped two fingers in you. you moaned as his fingers rubbed your walls, his tongue piercing rolled over your engorged clit and your voice broke as you cried out his name.

his fingers began to fuck into you faster and he went from licking your clit to sucking on it. an orgasm was building up quickly and you couldn’t fight it off. “Sugu, i’m gonna cum.” ever since the two of you got together, Suguru spent his time learning your body, learning what made you tick and twitch. your hips began bucking up in his face, his other hand came up to hold you down. his palm pushed you back against the floor, making sure you couldn’t squirm away from him. he sucked on your clit harder, your stomach clenched and your toes curled. “Sugu!” your things trembled and you cried as you came, you shook as Suguru kept sucking, his fingers stilled inside of you pressing into your walls instead.

“give me another.” he murmured softly, he began sucking on your clit again. you panted, gripping his head harder, pressing him more into you. you clenched around his fingers harder and before you could warn him, you were squirting all over his face. he gulped it down happily, drinking from you like he was a parched man and you a fountain. he sat up and smiled at you, your juices dripping from his chin. you sighed as he let up, body relaxing into the floor. “i love it when you do that.”

“i don’t.”

“why.” he whined like a petulant child.

“it takes a lot out of me. take your pants off.” he obliged, sliding them to the middle of his thighs.

“you’re bossy,” he joked.

“you like it.” he nodded his head with a smirk on his face, he does like it, you’re the only person who can put him in his place. he lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, his body engulfed yours, wrapping his arms around and you cradling your head as his body bent over yours. he lined his tip up with your entrance. he groaned as he pushed into you, your walls fluttered around him and you took him inch by inch. you turned your head to him searching for his lips. “Sugu.” you whispered, he turned to face you and you pressed your lips to his. he began thrusting into you, your lips moved against each other, you sucked on his tongue and his eyes rolled back. his moan vibrated through your head, you took the ball of his piercing into your mouth, rolling your tongue over it and biting the metal playfully.

“you’re so big.” you rested your head on the ice, your ass was pressed against it. the tights were ripped around your thighs, your panties pulled to the side rubbing against Sugurus cock as he fucked you.

“you’re so tight,” he moaned. “fuck, i love you.” your eyes widened. that was the first time he ever said it to you. his thrusts slowed down and grew deeper, he went from slutting you out to fucking you passionately. “i love you.” he pressed his lips to yours, his hand that was cradling your head tangled into your hair, pulling at it to make you look at him. his tongue ran over your lips, opening them and sliding it into your mouth. you took a minute to kiss him back, your eyes stayed open as he kissed you. his pelvis rubbed directly on your clit and your eyes crossed. he cock continuously rubbed your g-spot, his tip nudged your cervix. you panted and moaned into his mouth, he breathed you in, soaking up every sound that escaped your lips.

“i’m gonna cum.” you whimpered.

“me too.” the kiss between you two grew sloppy, less of a kiss and more of a combination of tongues and slobber. everything was so wet, your face with his spit, your body with sweat, in between your legs with his precum and your arousal. “i’m gonna cum in this tight pussy, gonna fill you up. wanna watch you grow, watch your stomach get bigger causa me.” you moaned at his words, who knew Suguru Geto had a breeding kink? “tell me.” he bit your lip. “tell me you want it. you want my kids.”

“fuck, i want it.” you sobbed, back arching to his chest.

“you want it? wanna be a mommy? gonna make me a daddy?”

“yes! gonna make you a daddy, want you to make me a mommy.” you slurred, words stringing together.

“you’re gonna be such a pretty mommy, princess, gonna have the cutest kids.” he lifted his face to look into your eyes. he gripped your chin, making you look at him. “look at me when you cum, keep your eyes open.” you tried but your eyes rolled back into your head. he landed quick gentle slaps to your face “open ‘em.” your mouth dropped open, you tried to tell him you were close but all that came out were garbled words. “i know, pretty girl, you’re so close.” he mocked. “gonna cum all over me? make a mess? let it go.” you cried out as you came, voice cracking from the volume. “there it is, let it out for me.” your legs shook with your orgasm, your back arched and fell with tremors. “i’m gonna cum.” his thrust faltered, one, two, three more before he filled you up. there was so much of it that you swore you could see your stomach expanding with each rope.

“Sugu, there’s so much.”

“fuck, i know.” it seeped out around him, dripping from you down his balls. he pulled out of you, wincing as the coldness of the rink met his cock. he laid next to you, sprawling out on the ice. “i meant it.” you looked at him. “i know what you’re thinking, i meant it. i wouldn’t have said it if i didn’t.” you sighed with relief.

“i love you too.” he smiled so wide you thought it would stick to his face. “did you mean the other thing?”

“what? making you a mom?” you nodded. “fuck yeah.” he laughed. “you’d look hot as a mom.”

“Suguru!”

“what?! you would. and i’d get to watch it. getting hard jus’ thinkin’ bout it.”

“you’re gross.” your face turned up jokingly.

“maybe but it’s more than that. i want that with you, i want kids with you, wanna have everything with you.”

“i want it too.”

“really?”

“yeah but it might be too early right now.” you turned on your side, laying your head on his chest. “how about… meeting my grandfather next saturday?”

“ok. is he gonna kill me?”

“probably.”

“fuck.”

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

THIS TOOK FOREVER!! i was supposed to have this out weeks ago but it's out now! i hope you enjoyed. likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

@shadowthief78 @alittlepuppyslut @leave-rae-alone @sugurusprettygirl @kissyblake-uwu @blubearxy @moonlithavensworld @deanzelly @xxharumixx @httpghostface @enhypen-scholarship @breeziebetty @3xv5s @iwannachokeontojifushiguroscock @ilovemydogsimon @jellyamour @secretanimesimp @literallynothingandnobody @morganadorodo @shiroganekagami @mmeerraa @lunairiki @saccharine-nectarine @deepinballs @boba-is-a-soup @localgaytrainwreck @bootlegroach @r0ses4ndlilies @shoyos-sugarbaby @sativaxc @spam-love @sh0rtccakee @onlypickless @nishii28 @missgab @anastasijaiwaizumi @strawberry-hyacinth @ynmnln @flrdete @megmercury @bforbiblio @hwanin @reinersweiner @childof-iluvatar @toijisdilfdaddy @doniveatry @cursedwings2005 @liaurokodaki @vixensbrainrotts @pillowow @beelzmunchkin @idkkk343 @xoxohyuniin09 @fartzalot @ghostlillah @diiaicar @vampl-sh @bffrrufr @jay-mach @firstwarmdayofbluespring @svtkiss

#getou suguru x y/n #geto x you #geto suguru x reader smut #geto suguro x reader #geto suguru smut #suguro geto #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto x y/n #jjk geto

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personasintro · 9 months ago

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Romance Is Not Dead | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it’s valentine's day and you're single

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brother's best friend!jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mentions of sex (it's mentioned quite a lot), reader's brother is kinda dick, alcohol usage, men (that deserves a warning alright), drunk people (it's a party), angst (?) honestly I'm not sure if there's any angst but it's a story with a few realistic topics that are kinda sad if you think about it, it's not your average fluff story lol

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.7k+

a/n: happy valentine's day! mind you this was supposed to be a short drabble like around 2k lol, I had no proper idea of where this will go and somehow I ended up with quite a long story haha. but I'm happy I got more into writing, I wasn't expecting writing this much. if there are any mistakes, please ignore them hehe. I rushed to post it so I could make it on february 14th. I don't know what even is this story but i hope you enjoy it hahah don't forget to like and reblog ♡

“Argh! Who even invented Valentine's Day?”

The groan that leaves your mouth – or more like a loud complaint – rolls around the room, not stopping you from tossing your bag on the kitchen's table to show your annoyance more than actual anger.

“Hello to you too, sis.” Your brother throws a peace sign your way, not particularly fazed by the lack of greeting on your side.

From your peripheral vision you could easily tell they're right there. Your brother and his best friend have been best friends since high school, they go way back and somehow, they've managed to stay super close till now. It's quite admirable, you have to admit. You don't think you've ever seen or heard them fight. Overall, their friendship seems to be more relaxed in this sense than most girls' friendships.

Yes, that mostly happens between guys. They're not as dramatic or bitchy as some girls can be. God. None of your current friends are your friends from high school. You've parted ways eventually.

However, the amount of drama free that's clearly not present in their precious brotherhood is equalized with loud burps, unfiltered talks about girls and sex through male eyes. You would've mentioned farting but luckily, you haven't heard your brother's best friend to be that nasty in front of you. Which can't be said about your brother but well, that's a part of having a sibling – regardless of their gender.

It's quite cliché.

Your brother's older, therefore he's protective yet loves to embarrass you at any chance. He thinks he's all that and sometimes, it feels like he thinks he's your third parent. That's what's more annoying – perhaps even more than overrated Valentine's Day.

“Did someone decline you on Valentine's Day?”

There he goes again.

Teasing you. It's a never-ending circle. Luckily, you've grown resistant to his pathetic attempts to embarrass you – especially when his friends are present. Yeah, your brother can be a dick and you're not afraid to tell him.

Though, you don't stick to the names and curses and instead turn it into something more powerful.

Scoffing, you swipe your hair back and give him a look. “Please, look at me.”

“I am, that's why I asked.”

You waste no time in grabbing one of the stupid empty cans he always has laying around and throw it at him. Did you mention he can be a pig sometimes?

Your aim has gotten way better throughout the years and when he curses at you once it hits the side of his head, you smile happily. His friend chuckles at the two of you, lifting the can that has fallen onto the floor and sets it on the table.

“Yeah, and that's why you chase every man that comes my way.” you comment, knowing well damn you're right.

He frowns, “Those men can hardly be called men, sis.”

“Well, bro, I wouldn't know since you like to be the pain in my ass.” you smile at him tightly, seeing him looking before he goes back to playing one of his stupid video games. “Not that I have a man to look up to in the first place.”

They've been doing that a lot. Lame.

His best friend's snort turns into a laughter that he barely gets to hold in. That makes you smile because you see it as a success in getting back at your brother. And perhaps your little crush you've had on him has something to do with it. But we don't talk about it.

Your brother glares at him but he's not affected, not even a bit. It's hard to put it into words or make any definition, but he's always been slightly more… intimidating? He has an aura around him that makes you appreciate even a little reaction from him.

It's humorous. You've known him for years, merrily just from always seeing him next to your brother (because there were never other opportunities), yet it feels like you barely know anything about him. Even though he used to occupy your living room almost every day. And today doesn't feel much different. The only difference is that none of you live at your parents' house.

“Who hurt you today?”

“Don't be a dick. I can be a bitch too.” you remind him sweetly, leaning forward against the kitchen counter and grab a grape that lays in a single bowl. Probably the only healthy thing he has in this kitchen.

He flips you off and frowns once he doesn't win the game. Karma. “Anyway, are you gonna tell us why you came here so annoyed or you're gonna eat?”

“I can do both,” you shrug. “I just don't get the hype about Valentine's Day.”

“Oh, you asked who invented it? Probably a pair of groupies in love.”

You roll your eyes, “I don't think that's it.”

“It's about romance. It's romantic, sis.”

You snort, “And how would you know anything about romance?”

He chuckles cockily as if the next words he says is something to be proud about; “I don't. But the girl I fucked said something about it.”

“Ew!” you gag, stopping yourself from reaching for another grape. “You're gross sometimes.”

“You don't talk about sex with your friends? C'mon, it's normal.”

“Yeah, with my friends. Not in front of you.” you justify.

“Jesus, we didn't have to hear that.” Your brother scolds you, clearly uncomfortable at the thought of you talking about sex.

You sometimes make sex jokes in front of him just to mess with him. It's pretty funny and it never gets old. You don't do it often though, but perhaps you should.

“I hear only you complaining.” you sign out, pointing out the obvious and for the first time since you've arrived, you give proper attention to his best friend.

He's been awfully quiet. What's there for him to say anyway? You and your brother bicker most of the time, no matter how old you are. He's pretty much used to it by now. He just stuck to playing the game and other than cackling at your previous comment, he's been quiet. You hate that you're slightly annoyed by the lack of attention he gives you. Not that you're an attention seeker or desperate for his attention.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out he sees you as his best friend's little sister. Even though you're not as little as when he first met you.

“JK is the last person who wants to hear your complaints.”

“Why don't you let JK speak for himself?” you question, a little edge to your tone as your brother huffs out, muttering something under his breath – obviously aimed at you.

“Chill out, you two.” he mutters, voice slightly deeper than you remember it even though the last time you've seen him was last month. It has a little rasp to it and you wish your eyes wouldn't glue to him automatically.

He lays comfortably on the couch, man spreading with a game controller sitting in his lap while his big thumbs rest comfortably against the buttons. You might've mentioned you are not friends with people from a high school anymore, but you have friends. One who would kill for a moment to spend with your brother's best friend. Just to be in his close proximity.

Though, it's no secret he's not any better than most guys his age – including your own brother. In a weird way, you love your brother (even though you wouldn't probably ever say it out loud because he's a weirdo and he would just make fun of you), but you can easily tell he's not someone you would ever want to end up with. Personality and morally wise, of course.

He surrounds himself with people with the same values, or the lack of.

And perhaps, it's one of the reasons why you suddenly got annoyed because of today's day. February 14th. You're the type that simply brushes off any guy who comes your way that you don't have any interest in. There's no need for your brother. He's a dick and he chases the ones that might not be husband material, but they're hot and charming. You're not necessarily looking for a marriage. God. You're too young. You don't want to be the one that gets locked in a marriage with someone they just met.

Definitely you don't want to get knocked up either. Fuck, they're so many scenarios that run inside your head. Ones you don't want to live in.

Regardless of your current stance when it comes to your life and relationships, you're still romantic. All of your friends have dates today. Any other day or year, you wouldn't even think of it – but you've seen everything in the shape of a heart today. Not mentioning there's everyone kissing and hugging at every corner of the street.

And you didn't get a discount on your cake because you were alone with no partner around. Who does that? That's discrimination!

Valentine's Day is overrated. Maybe you think that way because you're single. Have been for too long. And while you don't necessarily miss it, you kind of crave for someone's affection and touch. It's not even about sex.

“Listen, we're having a party tonight. I wouldn't normally invite you–”

“Wow, thanks.”

He shoots you a glare again before he continues, “But seeing you so miserable, maybe you could come too.”

“Party? Is this another one of your gangbang parties?”

“I have never been a part of that, stop calling my parties that.”

“There are literally hundreds of people who are there to hook up.” you inform him.

He snickers, “That's like every party.”

You lift up your eyebrows, not quite believing him. It's like every party he hosts or is invited to. People his age make parties slightly less wild. Not that he's too old but still. He's acting and living too wild for his age.

“I'm not hosting it.”

“Who is?”

“JK here.” His brother says, head motioning toward the man next to him. “I'm sure you don't mind that I'm inviting her.”

The said man looks at his brother, shrugging. “I don't.”

“Well?” Your brother looks back at you. “Are you coming?”

“Are you gonna chase everyone that comes my way? Y'know, my friends are all having dates and if I don't wanna spend tonight alone, I would rather have fun.”

“You're allowed to come. And yeah, probably I will.”

“You're a douche. I'm an adult, stop treating me like a child.”

Your brother sighs, already knowing what argument is about to come. It's about the same stuff every time.

“I'm doing it for your own good. The people that are gonna be there, guys that are gonna be there are like us, sis.”

There's a certain softness behind his voice, though it still stays vigorous as if he's trying to get something through your thick head. You know all of that, though. You know he doesn't hang out with the best people. But they're just dicks. And they're thinking with dicks. But you can take care of yourself. Besides, he's going to be there as well.

JK, or Jungkook like you refer to him in your head, briefly looks at you. But you spot it and stare at him as his eyes drift to your brother. “You can't protect her forever.”

“That's something an asshole would say.”

“I never said I'm not one. But let her have her fun.”

“You know what? Don't come. I don't want you there.” Your brother stands up and shoots you a glare before he walks away.

God! He's such a dick!

JK chuckles and you realize you've been frowning this whole time. You hear the door slam close and you scoff. “He's such a child.”

You eye him with no embarrassment whatsoever, tracing all the tattoos he has gotten throughout the years. The white shirt fits his torso perfectly, even though it's oversized his muscles peak through.

Your friend told you he's at the gym almost every day. It sure looks like that.

He suddenly stands up and you straighten automatically, watching him make his way toward you but not before tossing the game controller on the couch. He stays on the other side of the table, reaching for one of the grapes while still staring at you.

God. He's doing something purposely.

For the first time today, your confidence slightly falters but you do your best not to show it. You stare as he pops one of the grapes into his mouth and chews on it.

“You're still invited. That's if you still wanna come.”

You blink, “But my brother–”

“Is like a child sometimes. You're gonna be fine there.”

Gulping, you mutter; “How are you so sure?”

He doesn't answer but there's a small smirk playing on his lips. “You would still come, wouldn't you? Just to piss him off.”

That causes you to let out a soft chuckle because yes, he's right about that. Your brother needs to understand you're not a child. “I would.”

“Alright, then come.”

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and lift your brow, “I will.”

You will go to the party. Even if your brother would burn down the city.

One of the few things you've learned about your brother's best friend – Jungkook – is that he comes from a wealthy family. You know he got his own place in the city center, that alone tells you he's got money. Whether they come from his parents or by his own hard work is unknown to you. Either way, it's quite clear he's always been slightly privileged than most kids your age.

You've never been to his parents' house. There was never a reason for you to go there, plus, you're not your brother and he didn't exactly bring his little sister with him whenever he went somewhere. The only time he would have to spend time with you alone was when he had to babysit you. But you would always stay home and he would let you know how annoyed he is because of that.

A typical teenager who wanted to chase girls and experience his first hook-ups rather than having to babysit his little sister who was born with sharp tongue and big mouth. You're probably his karma for all the hearts he already managed to break.

Anyway – you know JK's parents' house is settled up the hill, away from the city and in a rich area where all the big houses were built. You've never seen it, hence your first reaction when you spotted a huge gate and a house that looks more like a mixture between mansion rather than a small family house.

Before he parted ways a few hours ago when you last saw him, he gave you the address. Seems like you've arrived just in time. There are many people, outside and inside – everywhere. It looks like the college parties you get to see in movies but more upgraded.

The thing about you is that you would never go to a party alone. Even if two people you know are here. Well, your brother still doesn't know you're here and he's about to get pissed once he sees you. Suddenly, the idea to piss him off doesn't seem so alluring.

But this house – or mansion or whatever this building is called – is the only place that is not filled with heart balloons. They might be couples and strangers that are glued to each other, the romance is simply not present. It's nasty and explicit to a certain extent.

A part of you is disgusted at how easy some people seem to be, letting themselves to be groped by strangers, but there's something alluring. Perhaps even more than doing this just to prove a point to your brother.

You don't get a chance to look around the place, since it's crowded and you're trying not to get shoved into, you're looking for a bigger space and maybe something to drink. You make it into the main room it seems. A huge couch in the shape of U looks massive but it fits into the big room perfectly. There are people everywhere and there's not a single space on the couch. However, once you make it closer and spot a tiny space, it's all forgotten and your vision naturally travels to the couple sitting there.

You would spot those tattoos everywhere.

Jungkook's there. And a woman sitting on his lap as you see them making out explicitly, tongues brushing against each other. Alright, a part of you envies the woman but looking around and seeing more of them staring in slight irritation and jealousy, you're not alone. You scrunch your nose at them not caring and just making out with each other in front of everyone. There's no way they don't know everyone's eyes are on them. The guys ignore them though. It's mostly women.

The one that sits on his lap and seems to be ready to jump his bones, is wearing a tiny top and mini skirt. You can see her panties and you feel embarrassed to witness the tiny piece of underwear. Well, she doesn't seem to care.

His hand is on her waist, gripping it tightly as he pulls away and mutters something into her lips. She giggles, all her attention focused on him.

Despite knowing him for years, you've never seen him in this element. And maybe that's what your brother didn't want you to see. Not even Jungkook but everyone here. You've witnessed a few parties, but this one is completely on another level. It looks straight out of a movie and perhaps completely out of your comfort zone.

But you don't leave. You stick in your spot and just stare at your brother's best friend flaunting his charm all around him, but mostly aimed at the woman on his lap.

Since your brother that eventually came out of the bathroom told you to get out, you've decided to come after all and give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe not exactly the same but that's why you chose one of your tight dresses. They're not special. Just a dress that almost every woman owns. But this one has thin straps and you don't get to wear a bra in it, that's how tight it is. It's the only clothing you're wearing, minus the panties of course.

You look good. You know you do and that's why you chose this outfit particularly. You thought the heels are perhaps too much, but luckily you opted for them instead of your sneakers. Everyone seems to be dressed like they're in a club. Not even one outfit on a woman here looks completely comfortable. And they show more skin when they wear clothing. Not that you're judging. You're not the one to talk.

And you know this choice of clothing is not only a magnet for eyes, but for unwanted touches you were counting on eventually. It's sad but it's the truth. That's why you never come alone to these things. You always have your friends with you. You would kick asses for each other and overall, you feel more protected and safe.

The hand that slaps your ass – that definitely looks good in this dress – causes you to turn and twist your face in anger. You spot a wasted man that smiles stupidly as if he did something cute. You shove him in the chest causing him to stumble into a few people who start to curse at him and complain.

“Touch me one more time and I will fucking kick your ass.” you spit at him.

Your ass might look good but that's not an open invitation for strangers or anyone to touch you unwillingly.

He gains his balance and his drunk features twist into anger. You see it. He's angry because you're not all over his dick because he touched you. First of all, he's not even hot. And he's wasted out of his mind. There's nothing hot about it.

He doesn't make it too close because you push him again, causing him to fall this time.

“You bitch!” he yells, having a trouble to stand up and you cover your mouth to shield the giggle that makes it out.

One of the guys that he stumbled into turns around, ready to curse. But as your eyes lock, all the amusement fades away and your eyes widen in a sudden fear. Shit.

It takes a moment for your brother to register that it's you – perhaps the exposed skin causes him to widen his eyes too before they twist into anger.

“What the fuck.”

“I was invited.” you automatically argue, yelping once he makes his way toward you and grabs you by your forearm. He kicks the bastard that still tries to stand up and starts leading you elsewhere. No, he's not leading you but dragging you with him.

It's not the initial reaction you had in mind. You wanted to smirk, to show him that you're here and there's nothing you can do about it. But that's out of the picture because in the end, you're just a little girl that maybe loves to piss off her brother, but once you truly piss him off you back away.

That realization causes your anger to come back and you dig your heels into the wooden floor, trying to get out of his hold. “Stop squeezing me like that!”

“Would you like to be squeezed by strangers?!” He yells over the music, both of you stopping next to a staircase.

It already happened, you wanted to say but decide to stay quiet.

He couldn't see what the stranger did to you. He only saw the man falling and stumbling into him. So the fact that he's this pissed off to see you here without even seeing what happened just minutes ago, makes you think he needs a psychiatrist. What would he do if he saw what happened?

“Maybe I want that!” you yell at him. “And there's nothing you can do about it!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to calm down. “What are you doing here.”

“I told you. I was invited.”

“I uninvited you.”

You scoff, “It's not your party, you moron.”

“JK invited you?”

“Yeah.” you shrug just to piss him off some more.

He stares at you for a moment, glaring but you glare back before he shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “Fine. But you're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he grabs your shoulders tightly.

“I mean it.”

“Stop touching me.” You slap his hands away, his touch fading away as you're about to open your mouth to curse at him some more.

Before you can do it, someone nudges him from the left side. Your brother is about to pounce but once he sees his best friend in the flesh, he stays down but not before he's reminded of what you told him.

“What are you doing.” He questions your brother but he just scoffs in return.

“You invited her?”

Jungkook rolls his lip piercing as he shrugs, “I did.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Me? You invited her first if I recall.”

Your brother stares at his friend in disbelief before he glances at you. You shrug, lifting your brown.

“You two are fucking unbelievable.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, probably thinking your brother is just dramatic. Which he is. While they're too busy arguing, you don't pay attention to anything that's being said. You shamelessly eye Jungkook, spotting how blurry his lips are from the make out session you witnessed a while ago. He's got a similar outfit like you've seen him during the day. The only difference is that he's wearing all black.

“Listen you two, I will stay out of your sight, okay?”

“No fucking way!” Your brother argues while Jungkook sighs in exhaustion.

“I'm just gonna have a few drinks and meet new people.”

“These people are not for you to meet or be friends with.”

“Who said anything about being friends?” you mutter, causing your brother to curse at you once more.

“No–” He stops you before you can interrupt him, “You invited her, so you will look after her.”

“Me?” JK frowns, disliking the idea. While you would be slightly offended by the lack of interest when it comes to you, you're also irritated that your brother here is acting the same. Only this time he's giving the responsibility to Jungkook.

“Yes, you! You invited her, so you'll watch over her tonight. If anything happens to her, I will personally kill you,”

God. He's so full of himself. If Jungkook wanted, he could knock him out with one punch. But you don't say it to hurt his male ego and boost Jungkook's one. It seems they're full of ego.

“And I'm not joking.”

He brushes past you two and leaves angrily. To probably shove his tongue down to any first girl he sees.

And from the looks of it Jungkook looks like he would rather much do the same. But then he looks at you, reminded of his current responsibility. You.

“Listen–you don't have to look after me–I can handle my–”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

He stares you down, not in the creepy way to stare at your body but almost looking for anything that could give him answers to his question.

“I've seen what happened.”

“You've seen it?” you breathe out, “I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

“I handled it.” you grit through your teeth.

“You did,” he agrees much to your surprise. “Or maybe you were just lucky.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” You trash with your hands, but he catches your wrist. Gently. But he has his hold on you and your breath catches in your throat. He pulls you closer.

“What if it was someone who wouldn't be so wasted? Hm?”

You gulp, glancing at his lips for a split second before you find his dark eyes on yours. “It happened with people around us. Someone would step in.”

He scoffs, “Don't count on it too much.”

“They would–”

“Some of them. Not all of them,” he informs you.

You're reminded that he knows these parties. He knows how it's going. And while no one would mess with him personally, it doesn't mean everyone is as safe as him. Let alone any women. That much you've realized and you haven't even been here for a half an hour.

“What if he waited until you're drunk to take you somewhere else?”

You breathe out shakily, “Stop.”

“What if he dragged you upstairs? And that's just the start of what he might've done.”

“Fucking stop.” you warn him with your eyes but he doesn't budge.

He tames you like you're a fucking dog.

“Your brother's right. You're staying with me.”

“And staring at you making out all night?”

You shut your mouth as soon as your response gets out. Jungkook tilts his head tiniest bit to the side and the corner of his mouth lifts up. “You were watching.”

“It was hard not to. Everyone was watching.”

“That's not an excuse.”

You inch closer, licking your lips. “It wasn't supposed to be.”

He stares at your lips before his touch disappears and so its warmth does. “You're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he glares at you which surprisingly shuts you up.

“I can give you alcohol, you can have fun. But you're not leaving my side.”

“You're worse than my brother.” That's a stretch and you both know it, but you've never seen Jungkook acting like this. He never really cared. He never had to in the first place. That's what your brother was for.

He inches closer, hovering over you like only his presence can. “I can be worse.”

And somehow, that sounds like a promise. Once he motions for you to follow him, you do like a lost poppy with gritted teeth and anger bubbling inside you. But you don't disobey. Perhaps it's the shock or the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you buzz with excitement.

Fuck.

It's not hard not to have a crush on someone like Jungkook. He's hot, he's confident but not in the way where he's full of himself. He has every reason to be confident.

And just like he promised, he has managed to give you drinks that surprisingly taste good. They're not too strong and something tells you he purposely picked those out for you. You don't complain. They don't cause you to make grimaces at every gulp and you can feel yourself relax. In the corner your brother watches you with glare, reminding you of something that should feel like punishment.

Perhaps it does.

Jungkook has you seated next to him, back on the couch. The woman he made out with sits on the opposite side, sending daggers next to you. You roll your eyes very publicly, scoffing and making sure she sees you.

“JK, can we go somewhere else?” You hear her annoying sweet voice, while Jungkook himself looks slightly irritated that he has you on his watch. “Upstairs?” she suggests.

“Sorry, love, can't.”

She huffs out, “Why? Because you're babysitting?”

You move sideways to face her, leaning through Jungkook as you glare at her. “Maybe he just doesn't want your tongue shoved in his mouth.”

Jungkook sighs, lifting his hand to your collarbones to move you back but you don't budge.

“Oh yeah? He wants more than that.” she informs you.

“God, you're so desperate.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Behave.” Jungkook warns you, pushing slightly harder and finally, you plop back onto your spot and fume with arms crossed.

“Tell your bitch to behave.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook warns through his teeth. You stop, realizing that this is the first time he said your name. Still fuming, you give him a glare before standing up.

“What did you just call me?”

“Come on.” Jungkook stands up too before you can make things worse and he's going to be caught up in a girls fight. This is not the night he planned.

He doesn't drag you like your brother did. He still rests his hand against your back and leads you in a direction. You don't protest. You want to but anything's better than being in the blonde's presence one more second.

When you realize you're standing next to your brother who's leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a knowing and quite pleased smirk.

“Dude. That's enough.”

“Are you having any issue with my sis, JK?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You made your point.”

“No, I don't think I have.”

“You two are annoying.” he sighs, closing his eyes.

“Excuse me? What have I done?” you exclaim, hand on your chest as he gives you a knowing look that shuts you up.

It's more than clear. Jungkook has brought you to your brother, so he could deal with you rather than he has to. It bruises your ego, but only slightly because you don't let any guy do any permanent damage. But you have to be honest. It's slightly embarrassing how he wants to shake you off. Clearly his plans for tonight have been different and watching the blondie still waiting for him patiently makes your night even worse, knowing what exactly he had planned.

“You made me a huge cockblocker, bro.” you interrupt their bickering. It feels refreshing not to be the one bickering with your brother.

Which reminds you that for the first time, you actually see them in some sort of argument even though it's not exactly a fight. Your brother as always is a pain in the ass and Jungkook's now experiencing it. You don't understand why Jungkook just doesn't let you go? Why did he insist on having you by his side at all times?

Most likely, he doesn't want to piss off your brother.

Jungkook throws you yet another glare, but you brush him off pretty easily. “It's not about that.”

You give him a look which makes him groan.

“It's not just about that.”

And then they continue again. Your brother complains about your presence here, blames Jungkook rather than your own decision to come. He knows you. He knows you've done it to mess with him and it worked. But he expected better from Jungkook.

You don't want to hear any second of it any longer. You don't wait for Jungkook's response, not even when you see his frown deepen and you know he's getting angrier by every word your brother spits in his face.

Using the tiny chance where they don't pay you any attention, you distance yourself from them. When you're in a safe distance and are not stopped by one of them, you make a run for it. Grabbing a wine bottle from someone's hold, ignoring them complaining, you make it upstairs and try to find a place where you can be alone. Before they find you.

You know once they notice you're not there, they'll be looking for you. Well, your brother will for sure. Even though he can be a dick, he's worried. But let him. That's what he gets for not letting you enjoy tonight.

Passing by people who either mingle or make out, you try a few doors that are locked. Wise decision. Another reason why Jungkook seems to know how these parties go. It seems almost impossible to find a place where no one is.

Just when you become tired and desperate, you make it to the quieter part of the house. It's weird because there are people everywhere. It's impossible to find somewhere quiet and empty.

Luckily for you, you end up in a room that seems to be some sort of office. It's medium sized, definitely not one of the biggest rooms in this massive house, but still bigger than your kitchen and room together.

It seems Jungkook has forgotten to lock this room. There's nothing special about it though. But he definitely doesn't want anyone to have sex on the wooden desk you pass by. There are a few shelves with books and a lamp, but other than that it's pretty empty. Oh, and there's a small couch. It looks expensive but it seems like they've brought it here just to put it somewhere. Not that it doesn't fit in here.

But it definitely doesn't look as expensive as the furniture you've managed to see in your short stay here. What has it been? Two hours? Two awful hours and no fun.

Making it onto a small balcony, you sigh in relief when you find it open. It's facing the back of the house and your mouth drops when you see a fountain, pool and a garden in the distance. He's filthy rich. His parents are.

Sitting on the cold ground, you take a sip of the wine. Your features scrunch in disgust but you force yourself to drink. It's more from the whole annoyance and anger you've been feeling ever since you came here.

Maybe they were right.

This place is not for you.

You have no idea how long you end up sitting there.

You just stare, hearing the blasting music in the distance and the chatter of people. You wonder if any neighbor called the police on him. But they're in the distance, probably they don't hear it as much.

There's a forest around you. There are no cars, no barking and no city noise. You wonder how this place feels like when there's no party. It must be calm and relaxing.

“Here you are.”

You hear it as soon as the balcony door slides open, ignoring the hint of annoyance in his voice as you take another gulp.

“You can't disappear like that!”

You chuckle, “Really? Watch me.”

“Your brother went crazy when you disappeared.”

“Sounds like a him problem.” you shrug.

“Are you drunk?”

You give him a look, a lazy smile making it onto your face.

“Where did you get that?”

“You know this is the most you've spoken to me since I've known you.” you take a note out loud.

He ignores you though. “You're gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a me problem, no?”

“God, you're such a brat,” he groans, “And get off the ground, you're gonna get sick.”

Snorting, you shake your head. “You're acting just like my brother.”

“You're irresponsible.”

That causes you to get a whiplash from how fast you glare at him. “I am not. Y'all act as if I can't do things on my own. Not only does my brother try to control me and watch over my shoulder every goddamn minute, you started doing it too!”

“He's worried about you.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, “Go back to blondie and leave me alone. Or snitch to my brother about my whereabouts, I'm sure he will get me out of here.”

He stays though. He doesn't move and doesn't speak for a moment. Instead, he sighs and sits next to you.

“I wanted you to have fun.”

“Well, that didn't work, did it?”

“Look at you,” he chuckles, nudging lightly on your shoulder. “You seem to have fun on your own.”

“Yeah, spending Valentine's Day alone on the balcony of my brother's best friend is just so much fun.”

He laughs. He actually laughs and gives you an approving nod once he realizes you're right. “You're not alone anymore.”

You give him a look but before he can elaborate, he motions toward the bottle in your hand with his head.

“Give me that.”

“No, this is the only fun I have.”

“C'mon, I will drink with you.”

Your surprise comes out before you give him a suspicious look. “You will?”

“Yeah.” he agrees and takes the bottle you hesitantly give him.

He takes a small sip, not a few gulps as you expect him to. “Is that all you got?”

“For tonight, yeah.”

“Why?” you question.

“I will take you home.”

You scoff, but then he continues.

“After you decide you wanna go home.”

“Really?” Your surprise makes it out again. “You're not gonna kick me out?”

“I would never kick you out.”

You make a face, “But my brother–”

“Your brother can be a dick sometimes.”

“Woah.”

“Don't act like you don't know it.”

“I do, but I'm just surprised you're the one saying it.”

He sets the bottle on the other side of him. It doesn't go unnoticed by you but you decide not to fight with him, especially once you feel the alcohol doing its job.

“Well, I've seen it from his side and I gotta be honest, he's protective. Sometimes overly but he's not doing it because he hates you, y'know?”

“I know he doesn't hate me,” you inform him. “It's just annoying sometimes.”

“But now I've seen more of your side and he should just let you live.”

You nod in appreciation with lips pursed, “Wow, thank you.”

He smiles, “You still do a lot of stuff just to get back at him. You're not making it any easier, huh?”

You laugh, “It's my rebellion.”

You sit there for a moment in complete silence. Jungkook stands up and leaves. You act as if you're not disappointed but before you can reach for the bottle that Jungkook has left here, the door slides open again and Jungkook wraps a blanket around you.

“Don't look so surprised.”

“Wow, JK does something nice for a girl?”

“I can do a lot of nice things.”

“Is there a double-meaning or?” you trail off, causing him to laugh as he shakes his head.

“Not like that.”

Yeah, because you're his brother's best friend.

Not that you would ever want something with him. Only in your most secretive dreams but that's beside the point. Jungkook is not boyfriend material. You've seen it today more than ever. But you can't deny that he attracts you in the weirdest way possible. You have never experienced that with anyone.

He's your type. When it comes to looks. And you're slightly ashamed to admit that some of his behavior attracts you. Basically, it's a red flag but what do they say? I'm color blind?

“How are you not freezing?”

It's February and you're sitting on a balcony.

“I'm drunk.”

God, you're going to end up sick. Even your drunk self scolds you.

“You wanna go home?”

“Not yet.”

He nods, not protesting as you both stare ahead. Your thoughts run wild, even in their slow pace because of alcohol flowing in your system.

“I was so annoyed because today's Valentine's Day,” you start, chuckling at yourself. “At first I thought I was just annoyed because everyone's in love and everything about today is about love. I do think it's overrated though.”

“I don't know, I never cared about it to be honest.”

You laugh, “Did you make today's party for all anti-romanticists?”

“No, I would've done it either way.” he chuckles.

“Did you ever make something romantic for Valentine's Day?”

He makes a face, frowning but silently laughing amusingly at the thought of it. “No.”

“You know what? I think I was more annoyed that secretly maybe I crave for something romantic. Not necessarily a relationship.”

“Or maybe you just feel the pressure of today's ridiculous holiday and people around you.”

You snort, “You're just saying that because you're not in love.”

“Love's not for me. Not that kind at least.”

“And what kind?”

“I loved our family dog.”

You laugh, “That's different. I'm not talking about that.”

“I know you don't. Just sayin', love has all forms.”

You hum, sighing before you start shivering.

“Come on, let's go inside. You're freezing.”

“But–”

“We don't have to go home.”

“Or maybe I should. I'm getting tired. And I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You were mixing hard liquor with wine. You will.” he agrees and once you nudge him, he laughs at you. “C'mon, you little brat. It's time to go home.”

As he makes sure you don't fall on the stairs, giving you the support you almost stumble when your brother makes his way toward you, breathless and relieved once he sees you.

“Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere. We've been looking for you! Why do you have the blanket?”

“Found her on the balcony.”

“What were you doing there?!” He screeches.

“Don't worry, I wasn't going to jump. But if I'm gonna have to keep up with your annoying ass for one more second, maybe I will.”

“You're drunk.” He scoffs.

“And honest.” you add.

“And where are you going?”

“I'm gonna take her home.” Jungkook answers, helping you with the last step as your brother stares with mouth wide open.

“Like the hell you will! You were drinking.”

“I wasn't,” he responds. “Not since I was with her anyway.”

“Doesn't mean you don't have alcohol in you.”

“I don't. I'm fine.”

You didn't even realize he wasn't drinking anymore. God. You really can be a pain in the ass too. But that's your brother's doing though. He should've never ordered Jungkook to look after you.

“You're the one who reeks of alcohol,” Jungkook informs him calmly, “Or you want someone else to take her?”

He shakes his head, still hesitant. He walks closer to you and wraps the blanket tighter around your form. “Are you gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, I trust Jungkook. Don't you?”

“I do.” He doesn't hesitate.

He gives one final nod to Jungkook as he leads you out of the house. As you're walking out of it, you spot blondie with a group of what seems like her friends, glaring the shit out of you. You stick out your tongue when Jungkook's busy opening the door for you. The look on your face causes you to smirk.

Jungkook gets you inside his flashy car and you're kinda doomed that you're too drunk to look around and appreciate the expensive type of vehicle. You're drifting in and out of your consciousness. But you notice Jungkook stopping in front of a convenience store, informing you he'll be right back. And he is. It seems like he's been gone for a minute because you close your eyes, open them and he's already there.

The drive and walk to your home is quick. You get to walk on your own, much to your embarrassment there are no accidents of stumbling or falling. As soon as you make it past your doormat, you make it inside your bathroom and throw up in the sink. It's embarrassing once you hear Jungkook behind you, helping you with your hair. He doesn't say anything, just letting you throw up everything that's currently in your stomach.

“I should take a shower.”

“Fuck that. Go lay down. I will lock the door.”

“Lock?”

“Your brother gave me his spare keys.”

“Oh.”

After a few minutes of bickering, you still insist on taking a shower. Jungkook sighs and lets you do your own thing, patiently waiting in the living room. Once you make it out in your pajamas that consist of your brother's huge t-shirt, you find him scrolling through his phone.

“You gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You're seconds from passing out. You might've stumbled in the bath a few times but you hope he didn't hear that.

You drag your feet to your bedroom and fall onto bed. You'll cover yourself later. As soon as you lay down, you ignore your spinning head and the disgusting taste of vomit that is still present, even though you've brushed and rinsed your teeth even in your drunken state.

The night is wild.

You throw up a few times, finding a prepared bucket beside your bed but unfortunately, you don't make it into it the first time. Once you wake up with a messy and aching head, you notice vomits on your floor and you cringe at yourself. Disgusting.

You wake up around twelve, finally in a better state to leave your eyes open without having to vomit everywhere. You're about to reach for your phone, knowing you're going to have at least a dozen messages from your brother. But you stop yourself as you stare at things that weren't on your nightstand before.

There's a glass of water. A box of painkillers and a chocolate bar wrapped in a package filled with pink and red hearts.

There's a note stuck to it.

'Happy Valentine's Day, JK'

You stare, reading the note over and over again.

And they say romance is dead.

#jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #personasintro

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months ago

Text

FROM FAR DISTANT WATERS

PAIRING: Merman!John Price x F!Artist!Reader

SYNOPSIS: There’s something in the water - you're going to figure out what it is, and why it chose to save you.

WORDCOUNT: 16.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, murder, death/near death, assault, injury, gore, mystery, mentions of suicide, angst, protective!John, pining, sickness, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The little boat rocks as it slips through the expansive water, a thin hanging of mist in the air. The curtain-like film it leaves makes it nearly impossible to see the dark rocks of the shore a far distance away, and the dip and push of the oars through the chilled waves leaves splashing droplets connecting to your cheeks. You touch the flesh delicately, brushing away the spray as your eyes slide over dark, lapping water—deeper than anything.

In your lap, sitting below the high waist of your skirt, was your sketchbook; the tweed material was all the rage these days, though you never focused much on that. The thick item kept out the chill of the, very, early morning, and that was all you cared about, though, it seemed you lacked the foresight to pack a proper coat. A large woolen shawl sat over your shoulders, hiding the plain white blouse but not its cuffs; not the slight poof of the bottom part of the sleeves.

Your numb fingers fiddle with the pencil in your hands, your open sketchbook filled with page after page of images ranging from the common sea-bird to great ships and shorelines.

“I still have to ask why you feel the need to tag along,” is the voice that breaks the silence, and you blink away from the cloud of condensation from your exhalation. Your ear twitches, but only a small flick of a smile pulls your lips at the older man’s garbled words. “So cold my damn hands are going to fall off. Why am I always the one bloody working the oars?”

Otto Whitworth was a man far into his later years—one who entertained your fascination with the raging waters and the need to immortalize them on paper; that draw to the sights and sounds. Graying, covered now in a large coat and his boots, with the long fishing rod knocking around by your feet, he grumbles more than he speaks sentences, content with only the pipe in his breast pocket and the promise of fresh fish for breakfast.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” you chuckle, glancing over at his wrinkled face—the glare of dark eyes set into a deep browline that’s more for show of annoyance than genuine emotion. “Gets the blood pumping harder, Mr. Whitworth.” Your vision slides to the shadows of the black rocks, and your pencil finds your palm before the sound of it meeting parchment echoes over the nothingness. “Isn’t it lovely? Listen to the Gannets.”

“Don’t need my blood pumpin’ harder,” the old man grinds out, scoffing. “Gonna make my fuckin’ heart stop, Girl…” Otto sighs, shaking his head as you chuckle. He growls under his breath. “And, no, I’m not listening to the birds—they’ll be trying to steal my fish soon enough. Greedy bastards.”

Your eyes roll in their sockets, pencil shading in the rough shapes of misty rocks, your face cold but still eager for something. There was a type of magic to this place—to Southern England and the small coast town you had settled in nearly a year ago: Redthorpe.

It seemed your talent for the arts was appreciated here, you had a shop to your name and friendly compliments from the locals every time the door was pulled open. People here liked the attention to detail in a place where they had most likely lived for a good ninety percent of their lives.

You tilt your head at the paper as Otto lets the oars drop back into the water, grasping for his fishing rod that you kindly move closer with your foot.

The man takes up the item and sets the line, whipping back the pole and snapping it forward with a wizz and a grunt—a cracking of old bones.

“Now hush,” Otto sighs, settling back.

You send a silent look upward, and at the same time as he does, you say out loud in a soft voice.

“You’ll scare away the fish with all that blabber.”

A heavy glare is leveled at you, but you raise a hand innocently and laugh under your breath.

“I’m as silent as the fish, Mr. Whitworth.”

“Cheeky Bird,” Otto sighs loudly, shifting in his seat until he faces the water, eyes glinting. “You’re too wild for this place, then, eh?”

“For most places,” you breathe, smiling as you study the rocks again before going back to your work. It’s only after there were the wiggling bodies of three fish set into a fisher’s basket that the oars are taken back up and the silent water is again forced back by ripples.

Pencil finding the middle of the spine, you close your sketchbook, the routine is as simple as it always is. Otto will complain about having you at his dock, he’ll begrudgingly invite you in and cook three fish: one for him, the second for his cat, Harriet—older than England itself and missing most teeth; as blind as a bat—and then, finally, you. After that you’re back in your shop finishing up your piece of the misty shoreline, working until the candle burns through both ends and the oil paints are swirling colors as your eyes bug. Bed, and finally, repeat.

A splash of water makes you blink quickly, your head jerking over at the slide of movement from the corner of your vision. Eyes wide, you swear a fin had cut the surface of the water like a knife through butter.

Your body moves closer to the side of the boat immediately, leaning over eagerly.

“Hey!” Otto barks, steadying himself as the vessel shakes back and forth. Your eyes shimmer, a smile overtaking your lips. “Watch yourself—you’ll send me overboard!”

“Did you see that?” Your eyes dart over the water. “I think I saw a fin.”

“You got excited over a fish?” The older man’s voice is unimpressed, hissing in the crackling of age. “Hell, I got three in the basket if you’re that bloody impressed.”

“Shh,” you wave one of your hands, unblinking. “It was bigger than a fish, Otto!”

Your ears twitch to his scoff, his hands grasping the oars harder before he shoves the boat forward. Body looming, the intense pull of adventure dims the longer nothing happens, and after a minute or two of dead mist and water, you hum under your breath like a fool and sit back.

“Lost it,” your numb lips murmur, breath puffing out softly. “Damn.” You shake your head as the wooden dock gets closer, more boats tied and shifting with the waves. “It was strange,” you admit. “Like a deep navy color—with specs of silver along the spine.”

Otto pauses, his hands tight over the oars. He blinks over at you, face for the first time showing an emotion other than annoyance. You barely notice before the sheen of crafted blankness is back.

You smile down the length of the boat, curiosity plain to see. “Do you know of any animal like that around here?”

“No,” Otto grunts out quickly, and your excitement dims sharply, blinking through shock.

Your brows furrow after the silence falls stiffly—the boat had never been uncomfortable to you, the atmosphere quiet, of course, but always easy to charter. Now the air was…muddy. Something had changed as fast as a fish being yanked out of water.

Fingers twitching, you sit back slowly onto the plank, pulling your sketchbook the tiniest bit closer to your abdomen. Face open, Otto continues to row and the entire ride is silent until the boat is docked and tied to the pole by calloused hands. Your digits grasp your shawl and wrap the fabric harder, shifting down to hide your chin into the wool as you shiver.

“...Need help?” You ask, eyes still shifting back to the water like always.

There’s something now that makes your attention drift like the waves themselves—and it wasn’t only the shadows of the rise and fall, it was Otto’s strange behavior. The man wasn’t one to just say one word and nothing more. He could bounce off you like it was a game; you often thought he enjoyed your company just so he could insult someone. Jokingly, of course. It was the companionship he craved, it was why he always let you on his boat in the mornings.

Otto lived alone. You never asked about it.

“Don’t need any help,” he grumbles out, tying off the last knot to the pole and stepping back with a smirk of satisfaction. “M’not in the grave yet, Girl. Been working the boats since I was out my mum’s womb.”

“Feel sorry for her.” Your mutter meets the air as light streaks through the mist. Breathing hot air into your free hand, you rub it over your arm repeatedly and sigh, fingers of the other limb tightening over your book. Absentmindedly, your head turns back to the open water one last time, for one last glimpse of anything you want to commit to memory while you paint—

The fin is back.

“Otto!” Feet swiftly dart to the end of the dock, you stop only an inch away as your skirt whips over. “It’s back! Look!”

A hand grasps your wrist and yanks you away.

Gasping sharply, you stumble until the harsh bark of, “Get back!” echoes across the dock just as it does through your ears.

“Whoa!” You’re quickly let go of, a shadow shielding you from the view of the water as you scramble to make sure your sketchbook won’t slip from your hold. Head jerking to stare in shock at the middle of Otto’s curved spine, your heart stutters in confusion and a bit of hesitation befitting one who was just manhandled. Standing up straight again, your tight face pulls in, the pound of your heart telling you something is wrong.

Glancing past a still frozen Otto, the water is utterly devoid of life again—only ripples to show there had ever really been something there at all.

“You go back to the ocean,” Otto yells, spittle flying from his mouth, fishing boots stomping against the wood as he moves forward a step, pointing. “Go back to the bloody hole you swam out of! There’s nothing for you here! Nothing!”

You watch, struck dumb.

“...Mr. Whitworth?” Your lips mutter out, eyebrows shifting from the waves to the man—utterly confused down to your chilled bones. Who was he talking to?

Perhaps time had caught up to him—was he mistakenly taking the rocks for people? The waves for whispers? All you had seen was a fish’s fin, nothing more, nothing less.

“Otto,” you call again, concerned. You should get the man inside; get him warm and let him cook his breakfast. “Let’s just go.” Your eyes blink lightly, fingers twitching over your book. “Alright…? My eyes must have been playing tricks on me, it’s nothing important.”

His form waddles past you, more in tune to his sea legs than the ones on land, and under his breath, you hear him snarl out a low, “You’ll not take her like you did Eleanor. Mark my words, I’ll be stringing you up by the tail first.”

Withered hand connecting with your shawl’s edge, you’re dragged back with more force than you’d anticipate Otto still having, but you go with him nonetheless.

Looking at the water, there’s nothing to see beyond the stretch of nothingness.

—

You dare to ask when you’re pushing the fish bones over to the side of your plate, slipping some mashed-up scraps to Harriet who lays in your lap purring. The rough scrape of a tongue licks your fingers, and deep gray fur caresses your palm.

“Who were you talking to back there?” Your voice carries over the small hut that Otto calls his own, the sounds of the water meeting the rocks plainly heard seeing as his property was as close to the cliffs as you could get without going over them. “I never took you for someone to believe in spirits.” The joke was a small jab, but even your own amusement was dim in the situation. Your hand puts down the fork and moves to rest along Harriet’s back, lightly petting the old cat as her half-missing tail flicks in satisfaction.

The man’s back over at the sink tightens.

“You watch yourself near the waters, Girl,” Otto grunts, dark eyes glancing over his shoulder. “By God, you watch yourself. There’s things out there—terrible things.”

“What kinds of ‘terrible things,’ Otto?” Your head tilts, sketchbook resting still on the table, your gaze flickering to it. Terrible had a nice ring to it. But something else was swirling in your gut now, a hesitation of a special sort that only comes out with the unknown paths of life.

What could make a man born and bred on the waters so reserved when speaking about them? Your interest had been piqued—your curiosity unsated until you were given a clear answer. You’d only been here a year, that wasn’t enough time to know the secrets of Redthorpe; to be let into those deeper circles.

Otto licks his cracked lips, the wrinkles of his face leaving behind something akin to a scrunched dog’s visage—worn by time and improper care from the damage of the sun. He’d been at work on his boat for decades, and while you took his advice with a grain of salt usually, this time he carried himself differently: you wanted to know why.

He glares with no venom, taking out the scrubbed pan from the soapy water and barking, “What’s it with the younger generation and their bloody pushing? Listen to what I’m telling you and take it as it is, Girl. You don’t go on the water,” he blinks, face grim, “unless I’m the one ferryin’ you through it, eh? That’s the end of it. I’ll say no more.”

Frowning heavily, you sigh under your breath and shake your head. Letting your eyes slip down to Harriet, you scratch under her chin and stare into her milky eyes as she lets out a little chirp.

“So much for answers,” your lips mutter.

But a fire had been lit in your breast now—a low simmering pull like a rope had been tied to your wrist, drawing you closer and closer to the rocky shore, to a boat tied on the dock which you knew was steadily rocking to the deep, dark waves of this isolated place.

To a navy-colored fin in the water, and a shape far larger than any you’d seen before.

Blinking to look out the window of Otto’s home, your eyes find the ocean, and the longing that you’d always had for it grows ten times larger as your sketchbook begs to be filled.

��

It was only fate, you guessed, that you had come to Redthorpe—a tiny, unimportant dot on the map—when the way of life you’d chosen had led you astray. This place was a way to start over. Fix yourself. You’d picked the least-known town in all of Europe, and that was exactly what you wanted.

One trait, though, that could never be squashed from your psyche was the lust for the unknown. It was an obsessive lover; a toxic hand on the back of your neck that dragged you back over and over, until there was only yourself to blame for the repetition of disappointment.

It was the reason you found yourself on the shore two days after you sighted the dark fin that cut the water.

Your lace-up boots were atop a large boulder, shifting as your body turned from left to right, eyes patiently dragging the expanse of nothing. Waves lap only inches below, spraying up to get absorbed into your skirt, shawl whipping with the wind. The breeze is stuck with the sounds of birds, the very beings darting above your head, playing their games with varying cries that sound like throaty groaning.

Bending, your arms wrap your waist, lips flickering. You were cold, limb-numbingly so, but even if you saw nothing today, or tomorrow, the push and pull of the ocean was enough—the call of the birds, the hypnotic sway of water. Calling to you, even if it had no lips to do so.

Taking down a lung-shaking inhale, you chuckle, sketchbook sitting in the small purse around your shoulder.

“What am I doing?” You ask yourself, shaking your head. “It was just a big fish—that old man was just being paranoid, anyways.” Eyes caressing the line where water meets the sky, your smile pulls your chilled cheeks. “There’s nothing out here worth my time. I need to finish my work.”

Leaning back, you rub your hands up and down your biceps, nonetheless enjoying your time despite the burning of something in the back of your head. A knowledge that the fin was nothing documented before? A hope of discovery? A need for adventure? Oh, who can really say—what can be known are only three things:

One, the weather was getting worse, two, the water was getting wilder, and, three, you had forgotten the way the rock you were standing on had shifted when you stepped up to it. Shuffling, your boots connect to the right corner, and your hands extend to keep your balance as you hiss a low breath, purse beginning to slip.

There’s a gruff call from the water.

“Careful, then.”

Your head snaps up to the sound of a man’s voice, and you startle sharply, gasping as your foot slips. A quick cry is all you get out before you’re suddenly plummeting downwards headfirst into the frigid water.

The feeling of liquid is all-consuming as it seeps into your nostrils and ears, all sound muffled entirely beyond the roar of it leaving you so stupendously—a flare, and then nothing. Eyes bugging, limbs slashing through the waves, the chill hits you in the chest with the force of a stone, smashing through your ribs to weigh you down with concrete stuck in your lungs. It was entirely a bodily reaction to gasp.

Through the blue and the bubbles, you start to drown.

Fingers twitching, you claw at nothing as the darkness settles its hands over your panicked eyes, not for a moment thinking about who had called to you in the first place—or who was poking a head out of the water before you’d gone over. Obviously, it was a trick of your senses; no one could survive being out in water like this.

You certainly weren’t going to.

Legs slashing, something is darting in the corner of your eye before your vision fails, but the rapid fear in your heart masks the hand gripping at your shirt’s collar. It hides even the feeling of strong arms until the point where you’re yanked upwards with little effort as one curls your waist. It doesn't hide, however, the way you vomit up water as you’re heaved to the rocky shore moments later.

Choking, you hack up salt that burns your esophagus until your lunch quickly follows—all spilled with little care for your hands caught in the crossfire. Spine arching as if a cat, air can’t come sweeter as it is drawn in rapidly; nearly hyperventilating on the ocean-smooth stones as your clothes are utterly ruined.

Panting, gasping, shivering violently, your head pulls itself weakly upward. It doesn’t take long for your mind to scream at you, and your head snaps behind you in a panic.

But there’s nothing but the raging water and the splash of a large navy-colored tail as big as your entire body disappearing back into the depths.

Your fear can only stay for so long before the threat of a frigid death becomes more and more probable. In your race back up the cliff face to your shop, your purse is completely forgotten, trapped on the top of that shaky rock where it had fallen from your shoulder before the great plunge.

Your shawl is seen floating out to the open water before it’s grasped from below and suddenly plucked—vanishing without a single trace.

—

The fire rages with the inferno of a million suns, and it’s not nearly hot enough. Wrapped in every blanket, sheet, and warm item available, you still can’t stop shivering hours later. A teacup was stuck in your hands, the liquid sloshing over the edges to slip over your quivering fingers and absorb into the cocoon of heat.

Breathing through your shaky lungs, you keep the rim of the cup to your lips, eyes wide and horrified. In the still moments after you’d stripped and tried to stop the onset of sickness that you could already feel coming, there was a flash of realization from your strange and fantastical ordeal.

There had been a man.

The sensation of hands around your waist—the gruff voice that had spooked you so violently. A man. In the water. Every time you blink, you see a shadowed image, a tiny glimpse as you’d turned to the sound of human speech above the shriek of birds.

Short brown hair and narrowed blue eyes set into sockets of pale skin. A bearded face, mustache…square jaw…

“What in God’s name?” You stutter in question over your tea, shaking your head. “That isn’t possible.”

Outside your shop, the wind screams, pushing against your exterior shutters as night sets in. A storm was coming; there’d be no other adventures for you. Sipping your drink, you shiver again, curling in tighter to yourself as wood crackles. The light dances over your easels and side tables, piled high with jars of brushes and pallets—bottles of linseed oil and liquin, labeled with little pieces of hanging paper at the necks.

There are paintings in the tens—in the twenties—hanging on the walls and set to the corners, all blue and gray; misty and clear. The water is a staple in all of them, and the cliffs as well. Perfect imitations of this place, as if you could reach a hand through the canvas and enter a mirrored world. Great ships are in some of them, or little fishing boats, with the birds overhead. Sometimes, it’s only the water itself, and to you, those were perhaps the best of your work.

There was a beauty in the nothingness. A mystery. Who knows what’s under that thin surface? Well…apparently, it wasn’t human.

You swallow down saliva and your lips thin.

The thing in the water wasn’t… unattractive, you had to admit. Beyond the waterlogged hair and dripping beard, a large nose sat—full cheeks with an odd mole over them. The more you thought about the brief flash of a visage, the more you grew to hang onto it, strangely. And that navy tail? It had been incredibly unique.

Spiney, nearly—four thin bones going down on both sides, branching out from the tail starting with the shortest that was perhaps only as long as your hand until the final was as lengthy as your entire arm. There was webbing between each spine to help the thing through the water quickly, it spread to the end of the barb until it sunk back in a ‘U’ movement, before once more arching out again to connect with the next spine. Small gasps in the caudal fin calling to either battles or a natural state of being—for show in it…his?...species.

Could you even assign it a human gender?

You close your eyes tightly in your shop, trying to will the image away from yourself. “What in the hell is going on?” Your voice is scratchy and low.

Yet, the undeniable truth was that the fish-man had saved you. It couldn’t be overlooked. Not by you, who now can sit in front of this very fire because of it. Like a moth to the flame, the surge of cautious confusion is burning your wings.

Deep blue eyes like the ocean. A navy tail. A gruff, hard voice.

You open your eyes and glare into the fireplace.

“What has this place been hiding in the water? And why did it bloody save my life right after it nearly ended it?”

More importantly…you had to think of a way to get your sketchbook back without getting on its bad side.

With a heavy chest, and more than a little fear in your heart, it was resolved to do something about all of this tomorrow. There was no use leaving the shop now. Glancing at the shaking window, you could hear the ocean rampaging over the cliffs; hear the slam of the rain hitting the roof like pounding feet.

But that voice played in your ears like a gramophone's bleated chorus.

You shiver again, not from the cold.

Careful, then.

—

There was no question if you’d gotten sick because of your impromptu bath in the ocean—the evidence was in your salt-covered shirt and the stockings that were still drying on the hearth.

Pressing a handkerchief to your mouth as you cough haggardly. You’re bundled in a nice fur dress coat, walking along the street with a skipping heart, a simple cloche hat over your head to protect you from the elements; dark blue in color.

The irony was not lost this morning when the hue had a striking familiarity to a fish-like tail, but it hadn’t stayed in your hand. A small drizzle slapped the fabric, and you were thankful you had brought the hat and coat along with you on the move from the big city.

You weakly smile and nod to the locals you consider friends—at the very least acquaintances. But before long, you’re at the place you feel you need to be to gain answers, too nervous to go back to the shore immediately.

The library.

Something Otto had said came back to you last night, in the throws of insomnia. The two sentences he’d called out on the docks that day—You’ll not take her like you did Eleanor. Mark my words, I’ll be stringing you up by the tail first.

Eleanor? Who was that and how did it correlate to the beast in the water that wears a man's face? Maybe, the local records would tell you the answer—there had to be something about this person, ‘Eleanor,’ in them, right?

If not, there was only one option left, and that was going down to the shore and getting the results first hand…you’d rather exhaust all of your resources on solid land first.

Slipping into the library with a deep breath and a cough in your throat, you sigh and nod slightly. Time to get to work.

“Oh,” the librarian looks up from her desk, standing as you shuffle over. “Hello, Dear,” she breathes through a chuckle, eyebrows pulling in softly. “My, you look a bit under the weather, don’t you? Would you like me to get some tea going…?”

“No, thank you,” you wave an easy hand. “I’m here on a bit of an errand, actually, and I was wondering if you could help me with something? I need to ask about your records.”

“Records?” The woman’s face shifts to confusion, her body slipping out to stand next to yours, you bring back up your handkerchief and sneeze into it, groaning. “What kind were you thinking, then?”

After you can push away the sheen of sickness to your eyes you take a breath and clear your throat of the stuffiness. “Births and work records? Addresses?” You make a small noise in the back of your mouth. “I guess I don’t know…anything that might help me?”

The librarian chuckles a bit, amused. “How about you tell me what it is you’re looking into, and I’ll try and grab any public knowledge that I can find. We’ll work together, then.”

Weight is loosened from your shoulders and you nod appreciatively. “Deal.”

“Go on then,” she walks over to a shelf on the far side of the room, standing as her fingers run the spines. “Occupation I can start with, Dear?”

“Well…” you pause, shuffling after as your head looks from one sizable book to another. “No, unfortunately. Only a first name.”

“You’re lucky Redthorpe is small,” the woman laughs. “Otherwise I would have told you you’re lacking your senses with only something like that to go off of.”

“Eleanor,” you comment, licking your lips and staring at a spine labeled ‘1890-1900 financial records - Redthorpe’. “E-L-E-A-N-O-R, or at least that’s the common spelling, I believe.”

The librarian’s body is stone-still. Comparable to the immovable rocks of the shore as the waves bash against them; the raging of the wind. When you glance over, confused at the silence that infects the building, you’re reduced to a meek hesitation at the blank eyes that dig into your face.

“...Or…maybe it’s N-O-R-E?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” is the hurried answer, and then the woman moves past with fast feet, heels clicking over the hardwood rapidly. “There hasn’t been an Eleanor in Redthrope. You’re mistaken.”

“Wait,” you follow, stuttering. “I don’t understand, there has to have been—Otto was talking about her not days ago!”

“You’re mistaken,” is the repeated, firm answer, the librarian’s body swirling to face you again, pointing a finger at you. “Go back to your shop. Mr. Whitworth is old, he sees things that aren’t there. Don’t take what he says to heart—”

“I saw it!” You bark, fed up. Your mind was sick of these games being played, left out of the loop like you hadn’t formed a relationship with the people of this town.

The woman’s mouth locked shut with a clack of teeth, something darting over her expression…fear?

She backs up slowly. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dear.”

Your lips twist, a threatening sneeze in the back of your nose. “I’m done with the word games! It dragged me out of the water like a sack of flour and tossed me to shore! It saved me!” Her hands are held in front of her as you stalk closer, trying to brush what you’re telling her aside as she struggles to string words.

“It…it wouldn’t do that—that’s not how it acts. You’re just imagining things; you’re under the weather!”

“Who’s Eleanor?” You huff, stubborn as you cross your arms in front of you. “And what in the hell is a man with the tail of a fish doing living just below these cliffs?”

Wide eyes meet glaring ones, and the librarian’s lips move up and down in a panic.

“I…” she begins, feet tapping the floor nervously as the rafters creak above the both of you. “I can’t talk about it. It’s not something to be said out loud—especially so close to the water.”

You bark incredulously, “There’s a bloody monster that lives down in—!”

A hand is snapped over your mouth and you startle, blinking through the twitch of your body.

“Shh!” The librarian panics, shaking her head, with flaring eyes. “Stop it or you’ll end up being dragged down to the ocean floor like Eleanor was!” You tense behind the hold, shoulders pulled in. It’s a quick spit of whispered words like a fast breeze. “Do you want your body showing up on the rocks?! Stay away from it!”

Your heart pounds in your chest, vision darting back and forth before she finally lets you go in a quick jerk of her body. The woman backs up, quivering as her eyes go to the window, nearly panting from fear.

She looks back at you, blinks, and mutters out a quiet, “If you’ve already seen it, it wants you. Don’t go back to the water,” before she rushes into the back room and slams the door shut with the slipping of the lock.

Left standing in the open library, the shelves sit stationary as if sentinels to your raw distress—this had only left you with more questions and a handful of jumbled answers.

“Careful, then.”

You shake your head harshly and pivot to leave the library in a stupor, shoving your chin back down into your coat’s collar as the wind slaps your face once more. The call of the ocean is like a knife to the back of your neck.

—

Call you whatever name in the book, but you wanted your sketchbook back.

No one in town was giving you anything that was of use, and Otto was tighter-lipped than a lockbox. There was only so much you could do—could speculate—before the need for your belongings was too strong to ignore. It took two more days of pacing your shop before it was decided.

Taking up the heavy cast-iron pan above your fireplace, you slip the thing into your coat, shove on your hat with a defiant grunt, and force the front door open. It’s a ten-minute walk to the shore, and all the way there, dread fills you up like soup until you’re bloated with it by the time your boots hit black rocks. Yet, there’s a point where a woman’s courage outweighs the sense of caution, and today was currently that day.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you grab your skirt and hike it up, placing your boot carefully on the first of the larger stones leading out to where you’d been previously.

“Don’t look at the water,” you mutter quietly as you move, not shuffling forward until you know the rock isn’t going to topple this way or that. “Don’t even think about it.”

But that tail…that face…

With a growl under your breath, you grind your teeth and continue on.

The weather today was much more agreeable, but cold. It was always chilled in Redthorpe—dreary as if the clouds never left far above. You didn’t mind, and in your coat pocket, the reassuring weight of your pan left you much warmer than you’d like to admit.

The heat of protection, so to speak.

“Even a fish-man can die, I’d wager,” you utter, grunting as you ascend a larger rock, palm slapping the wet stone before you heavy upwards, slamming your boot to the top much like a schoolboy as your skirt bunches. “If I hit him hard enough in the skull. I wonder though,” you sneeze, shuddering, “if he even bleeds? If I crack his head open…will blood seep out, or salt water?”

You shiver, and it’s not from the cold. “Fucking hell, you do like making it harder on yourself, don’t you.”

Lightly panting, you brush down your coat on the top of the rock and turn to look at the boulder where you’d fallen previously, blinking. Pausing, your eyes find not only your sketchbook sitting there…but also your shawl.

Struggling for a moment to try and justify your actions, you swiftly look over the surface of the water, seeing the gentle push and pull of waves. No fin. No tail.

You aren’t sure if the feeling in your chest is joy or disappointment.

Licking your lips, you take a large breath before your face turns grim.

“Grab it and run,” your voice echoes in your own head, heart pounding with adrenaline the more steps you take to the boulder, water sloshing at the sides. You had thought perhaps that the rain—the storm—would render all of your lost belongings null, but as you bent and snatched your items to you, shawl hanging from your arm, you were pleasantly surprised. It was all dry; impossibly so.

Amid your shock, your slack jaw, and the weight of your pan in your coat, your shaky fingers open your book with bated breath.

Everything was in pristine condition, if not only slightly curled at the corners due to…your eyebrows pull in, expression struggling to take on the emotion of anything other than pure awe.

“Fingerprints?”

Eyes slipping from one page to the next, flipping them only to see the press and pull of a long gone thumb, shiting the paper to gaze at the back, where a forefinger would have been. A hand laced in water had been turning the pages, just as you do now—and, yet, there wasn’t an inch that was damaged; nothing smeared.

Shoulders loosening from their tensed position, your wide stare is utterly transfixed as your digits rub the material softly, feet shifting.

Lowering your sketchbook, your small huff of amazed laughter, mind running.

He’d been going through your drawings—he’d somehow protected these items from the rain and salt. How? Why? But another question wrapped its hands in your skull.

Did he like them?

Shuffling the book into the crook of your arm, you carefully wrap your shawl over the material to further keep it safe, not able to find your purse, though the only thing it ever held was your sketchbook in the first place; it wasn’t too important.

Rising your head again, you gaze openly outward, lips opening and closing in a small stutter. Was he out there, this strange creature with a strong face and those deep eyes? That navy tail, looking like a beautiful imitation of kelp…was it just under where you now study the waves?

So many questions, so few answers.

You clear your throat, holding your items tighter. There’s magnetism in your blood, and it sits on your tongue like salt.

“Thank you!” Your voice calls high, joining the chorus of birds far above on the cliffs. Eyes skating the rocks, the shore, the ocean, everything. Call you prideful, but perhaps the best way to gain your favor is to know that someone, whatever bit strange and fantastical, had enjoyed your work to the smallest degree.

The way your eyes spark is still embarrassing, though, but it comes naturally after the heat that simmers over your face.

“Truly,” you shout to the wind. “You have no idea how much this means! If you’re listening, I’d like to extend my gratitude…” Your face is beaming, and you can convince yourself that all of your fear over this is gone, even if that would just plainly be untrue. “My artwork is everything to me, I do hope you enjoyed it!”

A creature so easily curious about your skills wouldn’t drag you to the bottom of the ocean…right?

Hell, he’d already had a chance to do that—a perfect one—and yet, here you are. What the Librarian had said had to be false, it made no sense otherwise.

Seeing nothing, and knowing that you were needed back at your shop, you chuckle under your breath and back up swiftly, walking the distance back to the surrounding rocks and slipping off softly. Grunting under your breath, your boots hit the stone, and you carefully begin back-tracking.

“You’re good at it,” you halt in a fraction of a second. “The images. Where’d you learn to do that?”

It’s a long moment before you turn with a cautious tilt to your head, and find the very same visage as you had a glimpse of days ago. You fight a fast inhale, but your straightening spine tells all the story it needs to. Like a fool, you lose the words in your mouth, as if trying to catch a bird of prey with a butterfly net.

A strong face is poking out of the water only a mere five feet away.

Your eyes slip to the soaked beard, the peak of bare shoulders—broad, of course—and the prying orbs that you feel will never leave; he wades there, arms under the dark water only a flash of pale skin before they’re gone again.

“I…” you lick your lips, blinking through the moment of animalistic panic. You were on land, there was nothing to fear. The sight was still something to be remembered, though. “I was self-taught, Sir.”

Blue eyes blink, serious face only made more so by the twitching of his large nose, which water drips from periodically. Droplets stay stuck to his dark lashes, and you’re near bursting with questions.

But silence persists long after your sentence filters out to nothing.

“You pulled me from the water,” you state slowly. “And I don’t even know your name.”

The man looks you up and down, not arrogant, no, but in a way that is comparable to how you did the same to him. Studying you as if your body was strange to him. The realization almost made you laugh—perhaps it was strange to him.

You want to see that tail of his again. Your fingers itch to sketch its likeness and commit it to muscle memory.

“I scared you,” he grumbles, sighing. “It wasn’t my intention to send you over.” Eyes still stay stuck. “My own fault.”

“I won’t deny you there,” you huff, gaze shifting away for a moment before filtering back. A slash of amusement curls in the thing’s eyes, and he hums. “Forgive me,” your breath wafts out over the air, face going what you can assume to be sheepish. It astounds you, though, that the conversation comes easily. “But I haven’t the faintest bloody clue as to what to call you.”

“John,” is the reply. Accent like gravel. He doesn’t waste his breath, seems.

“John?” You lick your lips, legs shuffling over the stone. The name leaves you holding back a loud laugh. “Well, I suppose I could have guessed that, then. I’ve met more than enough ‘Johns’ so far.”

“Funny, are you?” The response, however dry, is tinged with something you can’t name.

“I try,” you nod jokingly, motioning with a hand. “Just didn’t expect a man with a fishtail to act so….human. Certainly not be named like one, either.”

“Hm,” John grunts, blinking slowly. A hand slips above the water, and you watch it flex and drag to itch at the back of his neck, hair over the arm slick to the flesh. Your face heats, and your eyes dip to see the small shadow under the water almost graze the surface, rippling the waves intimately, as if tail and liquid were of the same sound mind.

It wasn’t out of the question to say you longed for a glimpse.

What would it feel like to touch it?

“You live here?” Your voice is hoarse before you clear it quickly. “Right below the cliffs?”

“You’re the woman that goes out in the boat,” John firmly interjects, and you blink, taken aback.

“Yes, that’s me.” You explain, pulling at the lip of your hat to force it down further over your head. “Otto goes fishing in the mornings—I like to sketch the shore. He isn’t the worst company, of course. He’s kind enough to let me along with him.”

But you won’t be kept down. There’s magical curiosity in your chest now.

“Your tail,” you take a step forward, boots being licked by icy water. John’s eyes widen a smidge, not expecting you to actively move closer. His head tilts as if a bird, confusion brimming though he hides it expertly. You imagined he considered you a bit mad. “Forgive me, Sir, but I must know,” your uttered rambles make his hidden lip twitch, a little twist to your expression that shows wonder. “Is it attached to you, or do you slip out of it like a pair of pants? O-or even like wearing a stage costume? Oh, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

John can’t find the words for a moment, only able to watch and assess as he always did in times like these. You were…different, he supposed. But he knew that the moment you had shifted your body over the side of that old man’s boat—looking for a glimpse of something unknown. He could see it in your eyes.

The water calls to you. It lives in your veins already, waiting. More salt and seaweed than earth and grass. Sand, rock, gulls, they all cry in the back of your mind, and your fingers itch to catalog them into immortality in a way that John was fascinated over—the skill of parchment and memorization. Mastery over detail.

He doesn't know why he’s speaking to you, truly. He’d done his penance; saved your life. But he knows he doesn’t dislike it, and that in and of itself needed to be understood. John couldn’t leave his analytical brain lacking an answer to a question as big as that—a woman of all things? A human one?

Blue eyes can’t seem to slip from yours, as you await a gruff reply.

“No.” You blink, pulling back a smidge when John’s voice is low and graited. “Go back to your home. It’s late.”

“Hey, wait—!”

But he’s already gone under the waves, and you’re left with a waterlogged boot, a cast iron pan, and the two items that had survived because of a grizzly creature's compassion. Your lungs heave, and the cloud of condensation rises into a gray sky.

You stay there far longer than you’d like to admit.

—

You struggled, slipped, and climbed your way back to that point on the rocks every other day, and yet, there was nothing more to be seen of the man with the tail. You knew he was out there, felt it in your bones, and still…you were left here staring out at far-off boats and half-hopes. Wondering. Waiting.

In the days that passed, you would explore the shore further, going in nooks and deep bends that extended into the cliffs during low tide, cringing away from the slippery fingers of kelp stuck to the walls. Dead fish, mucus-lined snails—you had made the important decision of leaving your sketchbook at home, the pages already filled with the perfect reflection of a man’s face peeking above the water.

Taking off your hat, you huff on a similar day to those others, this time slipping inside a cave with a direct connection to the ocean. There wasn’t any wind in here—and you sigh in relief as your breeze-bitten cheeks can finally get a rest. You didn’t know what you expected to find doing all this fruitless searching, but it didn’t erase the fact that you enjoyed it; looking for a glimpse of something out of the ordinary.

Brushing your hat of sand and other such items, your head swivels softly, a delicate smile on your face as water drips from the rock ceiling, stalactites like broken fingers reaching for the ground. A pool of sorts takes up most of this place, the thing extending to the ocean through a medium-sized opening in the stone.

You turn in a half-circle.

“Beautiful,” your lips murmur, voice echoing.

Walking forward, every so often your body stoops to carefully grasp shells and smoothed shards of colored glass, beaten down by waves and reduced to harmless trinkets. Continuing, you care little about your boots or your coat, only for the pull in your chest that tells you to keep going until your legs are weak and weary—shaking from a day long spent in selfish adventure.

When you find the pile of rings, sitting in soft kelp, you nearly walk right past them until the glint of metal takes you by surprise. Pausing, your pulse warms as your eyes slash to the side, getting sucked in as easily as cookies to a child.

Only hesitating a second, you slowly walk until you’re inches away, seeing different styles and gems like starlight sitting as if unaware of their raw beauty.

“What are you doing in here…?” You ask yourself, your own voice responding from the walls as it bounces.

Picking up one of pure gold, you shift the band to stare openly at an emerald nearly the size of your knuckle set into it. Lips parting, it’s as if your breath is stolen by a quiet thief. But the sudden arrival of splashing snaps you out of your stupor quite quickly.

Dropping the ring immediately back into the pile, your hand jerks to your chest as an increasingly common face shows itself once more from the water.

You clear your throat, face burning as John raises a slow brow, glancing at the stash of rings silently.

“One day you’re going to make me keel over,” your voice berates, pointedly avoiding his blues. So the items were his.

“A thief as well as an artist?” John asks after a moment, tilting his skull as his body drifts closer to the rocky side of the pool. The next sentence is no question, only a statement. “You’ve been looking for me.”

You take a long breath, sighing, before you shove your hat into your coat’s pocket, glaring lightly. “You left so abruptly, I never got to ask my questions. Quite rude of you to keep a lady waiting, John.”

As you say his name, he glances over, but not before his sizable hands slap to the side of the rock and he hoists himself up with a single push of his forearms. The man grunts, lips pulling, before you’re left breathless.

Eyes stuck on the upper half of his body, the water dripping down the hair-layered bulge of visible muscle, your wide vision skates from one point to another, flesh on fire the more you stay mute. But the tail—that was something you could never describe.

The beginning was all you could see; scales of dark navy and a spread of muddled silver-like dots, nearly impossible to make out except at this distance. They began at the top of where hips should be, the scales, smaller and blending into the skin easily, only becoming larger the more the tail extended down; the appendage was far larger than legs would be, that you can tell easily. You can’t see all of it, as perhaps a little less than half still sits swaying in the water…but even this was enough for now.

This moment would be stuck in your sketchbook for all of eternity.

It’s only after your jaw is slackened that you realize John has been watching you the entire time.

Forcing it shut with a tiny clack of teeth, you try to regain any composure you can. The being’s beard curls in a smirk, cheek pushing to show the lines near his eyes.

“If someone’s avoiding you, Sunshine,” he grunts out, voice low. From the corner of his eye, he watches as his hand rises to itch at his beard. “They usually don’t want to have a conversation.”

“I think it’s fair,” you huff. “You can’t just disappear when I have so many unanswered questions.”

John blinks, attention not moving for even a second. Your own is less than firm, fighting to not dart down to openly study every dip and bend of his bones. He was so…stoic. Gruff. But there were moments of amusement—even annoyed interest.

“I don’t have time to fuckin’ entertain others,” he thins his lips.

Your arms crossed, face dripping into seriousness. “And what else is so much more important, then?” You raise a brow. “Scaring other women into the water?”

He huffs under his breath. “It was an accident—wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so jumpy, eh?”

“It’s not like I expect to see fishmen pop out of the water,” you defend.

“Mer-man, Love,” he licks his lips, sighing, as his eyes shift to glance at the opening of the cave. Your face bleeds into a slight expression of satisfaction, arms over your chest tightening as your feet rock back on their heels.

“Well,” you chuckle. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

An emotionless glare is all you receive.

It was no surprise that you ended up blurting out inquiry after inquiry—what does having a tail feel like? How do you breathe underwater, or do you only hold your breath like a human? Do you have gills somewhere, or lungs? What other creatures are out there like you?

You have no idea what time it ends up being, and you have no intention of stopping soon. It’s a pleasant surprise, then, that John answers all of your quick words with full answers; giving slow, but not condescending explanations.

A few times there had been tiny chuckles, and the little conversations amounted to you sitting on a rock right near the water, only feet away from where the tail drifts in the waves; John’s hands keeping his upper half straight as his palms meet slippery stone.

“And the rings?” You breathlessly wonder, attention darting to the pile. “Do you find them out there? Keep them?”

John tilts his head in an affirmation. “Shipwrecks. There’ll be hundreds of them—I’m not one to keep many belongings, but the bloody things were nicely made.” He sighs. “Seemed a waste to leave them down there.”

You huff a sound of amusement. “I see. Fascinating.”

In the small pause, your eyes once more study the cave, seeing little breaks in the walls where cubby-like indents are. In them, your focus drifts from one glimmering object to another, all previously missed by you when you’d first entered.

You blink. “You live here?”

“Affirmative,” John stares. His body shifts, tail flickering as your focus snaps back to it, almost lost in the way the ends so nimbly slice the water. Like wispy fabric. Your eyes soften like molten metal. You look back at him and find his eyes already locked to yours.

Breath caught in your throat, you chuckle meekly to dispel your embarrassment. John’s face minutely relaxes, stern brow loosening.

“And…” you lick your lips, knowing it was time to leave. The sun no longer shines through the crack in the rock. “If I were to come back, would I be able to find you here?”

There’s a flash of that same indecipherable emotion as before over his bushy face.

The man was anything but small—everything to the swell of his tail; body hair for, what you assume, is to keep out the constant chill of the water. You’d never imagined that you’d find it all so attractive down to the navy scales that shimmered above the push of his side. That healthy layer of meat was eliciting far more of a physical reaction than you’d care to admit to anyone, let alone a priest of any religion during a confession.

Perhaps that fall into the water really had killed you.

“I’ll be here,” John responds lowly, gravel in his throat.

Swallowing down saliva, you push back the ravenous smile that threatens you.

“...Okay.”

—

And this affair became such a constant, that most of the people in town had begun asking about you as you snuck to the waters. Otto was largely concerned, but would not say anything more for some unseen fear—nor the Librarian, who avoided your eyes any chance she got.

Dragged to the ocean floor. Body on the rocks.

The sheen of discovery could be a powerful vice, and for those first two months, you never asked John about the woman named Eleanor or who she might be—what correlation she had to beasts of the water. Then again, you didn’t have to ask. He managed to get around to it himself.

Your eyes blankly stare at the page of your sketchbook, the merman’s rough shape chicken-scratched with small lines into the parchment, and your pencil stays still to it, immobile. From across the cave, John’s face tightens as his eyelids narrow. You’d been quiet today, he had noticed. Usually so bright with your words, the walls had barely echoed with the symphony of your speech, and, more importantly, John’s ears hadn’t twitched to it.

He had become fond of your company, he admitted to himself. A strange human woman with her fur coat and hat, the little sketchbook that held such wonderful imitations of life. John was anything but dull—he knew you drew him, and he entertained the activity. In fact, the thought at one point or another may have made the brute of a man blush a bit. So, when you were as still as the stone you sat on, he had concerns.

He liked it when you spoke, even if it was only a tease. And the tightness of his chest when you don’t look his way is enough to leave his tail twitching in confusion as it sits in the water.

“You’re quiet today,” he starts, frowning.

Your fingers jerk, sending a line over your paper as you blink, looking up as your heart skips a beat. Glancing at John’s face, the thoughts inside of your head slip until you can understand what he said.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, and the man’s face pulls. “You can speak if you want. I'm just a little distracted.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Love, yeah?” John grunts, hands shifting over the stone. He looks you up and down, tail sitting still below him. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” your lips mumble, and you shake your head. “It’s one of my questions again.” You pause, closing your book. “A difficult one.”

John’s lips flicker. “Well, we’ve been at this for ages. Can’t see how this one is more difficult than the others.” He nods softly, voice a low and somewhat smooth mutter. “Go on.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you huff, standing and placing your sketchbook in the driest part of the cave before walking closer. Bending right in front of John, your face is tight. The man likes it like this—having you closer. He can feel the heat roll off you, and his eyes flutter even when nothing on his face gives away the pull he senses in his chest.

John hums and swallows stiffly.

“Why not?” His head tilts, and he clears his throat to get rid of the raspy scrape of his vocals. “Something going on up there?”

Up there.

The Merman had asked about Redthorpe, as well as the rest of the people who lived there. The atmosphere, the way of life. Your meetings were more of an exchange of information and stolen glances than anything else, the other none the wiser to this magnetic attraction. It was a delicate thing, knowing that there was something more and yet unable to fully express the way it makes you feel. Neither of you knows what to call it.

“More so in here,” you smile tinily, pointing at your head as your cheeks grow hot.

“Then speak to me,” John frowns, trying a low smirk. “Think we both know I’m a good listener then, Love. There’s time,” he glances at the entrance. “Won’t be near dark for a few more hours—don’t want you climbing at night.”

“Awe,” you breathe, beaming suddenly with that glint back in your eyes. John hides the sagging of his shoulders, only offering a hum under his breath as he looks over at you. His kelp-like fins twitch, and he wonders what it would feel like to have you touch them. It was obvious you wanted to.

Not yet.

“Hurry up, Sunshine,” John grinds out, that accent all the more sandy.

There’s a small grunt and a shuffle, and, soon, a warm body is plotting itself next to his own, arm touching his, and a pair of bare feet slipping into the pool. Blue eyes widen in surprise, head darting to where your form rests so simply—so near the crook of his shoulder that he could reach over and draw you to him if he so wanted.

Your feet shift as the hem of your skirt gets soggy with water, and John barks out a firm, “You’re going to get cold.”

“It’s not as cold here as it is out there,” you shrug to him, smiling with a side-eye. “Besides, I’m right next to you—you’ll keep me warm, won’t you, John?”

“Fucking hell,” he puffs out, shaking his head as he rips it forward once more, clenching his jaw. Your scent seeps into his nose, and when your leg slips along the side of his scales under the water, he all but goes a blank-faced scarlet.

You hide a chuckle, shivering at the chill but more so at the unimaginably smooth sensation of John’s tail over your flesh. Your legs move through the water to cross at the ankles, your right hand resting to directly touch John’s left. With every pump of your blood, his own mirrors.

Yet, your mood sobers, and the joy leaks.

“There’s a woman that no one speaks about in Redthrope,” you begin, and John settles to listen, brows furrowing in concentration as your skin sits so well next to his own. “Eleanor.”

The man pauses abruptly, and you keep talking.

“And for some reason,” you sigh out a low breath, turning to look at John and his still face; emotionless. “Everyone seems to blame you for whatever happened to her. I don’t know if she’s missing, or…”

Your words trail off, insinuation clear.

Not noticing any chance on John’s face, you lightly bump him with your elbow, expression going concerned. “Hey, are you alright?” Your opposite hand raises, moving out between the two of you. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything, I would just really appreciate anything you might know about it.” Eyes imploring, your heart pours itself. “I don’t think you’d do something like that.”

John blinks slowly, finally opening his mouth. “What makes you say that?”

“If you were some murderous creature,” you shrug, “I don’t think you would have tried to pull me out of the ocean in the first place.” Lashes caressing your cheeks, you smile. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” the man huffs, quirking a brow. “No, you’re not wrong.”

“Knew it,” you whisper, eyes crinkling as you side-eye him.

John chuckles, half rolling his eyes as he leans to your ear as he grumbles. “Gettin’ cheeky, are you?”

If you were a bird, you’d be preening your feathers, eyelids narrowed. “Perhaps, John.”

It is a wonder, then, that the two of you don’t lock lips that very instant—long fins curling around legs and shoulders stuck together, pinkies unconsciously sitting atop the others as if pieces of parchment. Blue eyes shift smoothly to your lips, but before you can register that they have, John’s head is already moving back and his spine is straight.

The man flattens his lips, tilting his skull.

“I knew of a woman named Eleanor—she would come down with her husband, Noah, and they would walk along the shore. Got close to this place a few times.” Dark brows tighten. “Found her body in the water after a storm about two years ago; brought it back to the rocks so someone could retrieve it.” Your face loosens as the information settles in. John makes a noise in his chest. “Interesting that I’d be roped into it, but it’s understandable. Always someone to blame, eh?”

“I don’t blame you,” you whisper. “That must have been horrible.”

Blue slips over to you silently, and it’s a long moment before John only hums under his breath, blinking away softly.

“Scared me when you fell in.” Listening, your heart clenches in your ribs. To think about what must have been going through his head at that instant was sad to you, and even worse so when you know he would have blamed himself if you might have ended up seriously hurt.

“Well,” you lean into him, face on fire, “it was a good thing you were there to drag me out, then. A little water never hurt anyone, so long as a handsome merman is there to take them back to shore.”

John huffs out a laugh. “Handsome?”

“Oh, very,” you joke. “The tail is a bonus.” Your expression lightens, eyes glinting. “Since when did you know that navy is my favorite color?”

The feeling of the cold water is only a back-drop to the way John’s fins twitch against your bare legs intimately, and you chuckle as the beard can only hide so much red skin.

“Bugger off,” he grunts.

You’ve never heard a smile so clearly before in your life.

—

Your paintings were selling far better than they ever had, and you had to thank the new muse of them for that fact.

John’s appearance in your work had started small—a glimpse of a fin, the presence of a shadow in the water—and had steadily grown. Now, hidden like a present, there was the image of some fishtailed man somewhere in all of them, a steady injection of magic into the veins of cerulean blue and ivory black. It showed you that fewer people knew about John than you had previously thought.

Initially, you had imagined that everyone knew and the reason you didn’t was because you were relatively new here, but no. Most had been enamored by your work when they found the ‘strange fish-man’ in one, pointing and chucking to themselves, talking about how adorable it was. No one was shocked, no one sent looks.

By the end of the week, you had been convinced that it had been narrowed down to Otto and the Librarian—

The bell of your shop dings.

Looking up from your easel, you smile and stand automatically, thinking about closing soon so you can go and see John. Nowadays, even the thought of him makes your blood pump heavy.

“How can I help you today, Sir?” Your brushes find the side table you had set up, locking eyes with a tall, thin man in his late thirties. He wears a suit, and in his breast pocket, there’s the gleam of a gold chain attached to a pocket watch.

“I’m here to ask about a detail in your paintings, Miss.” He’s well-spoken as well, and you’re shocked to know you haven't met him yet if he lived in Redthorpe—he doesn’t seem familiar at all.

“Of course,” you nod, perplexed. “I’m sorry, I think I missed your name.”

“Noah Moore,” is the even response. Noah is already walking around, bending to look into some of your work which hangs on the wall. “My neighbor brought home one of your pieces; I found I liked it very much. Had even considered commissioning.”

Noah? You blink slowly, watching. Wasn’t that Eleanor’s husband?

“Thank you,” your lips move, thinning. “That’s very high praise, Mr. Moore.”

“This creature,” Noah stands, and dark eyes set on you. For some reason, the hair along your arms stands on end. “The man with a fish tail. Have you seen him?”

Your instant reaction is to lie, and that in and of itself is a telltale sign that something is wrong. Noah makes the alarm in the back of your head go off for no reason other than the way he’s trying to pry with that unblinking gaze of his. The rich apparel; the attitude. He isn’t right.

“Seen him?” Chuckles echo off the walls. “Who? The beast? No, Sir, that…thing…is just something I made up.” You wave a hand, but back up a step, trying to create distance. Your hip lightly bumps the side table, and your materials jerk. Gasping under your breath, your head snaps down, catching your brush before it can fall. “Oh my, clumsy me.” you laugh stiffly. “Apologies, Sir, but that’s the truth. I wanted to create something that all of Redthrope might enjoy; a local legend of sorts, see.”

Your eyes had siphoned back with a dread in your heart. The man mutely stares, a deep frown pulling his lips. As if the conversation had never happened, after a long stretch of tension, Noah smiles widely.

“Ah,” he huffs, “of course. It was silly of me to ask.” Dark eyes are emotionless, and the pull of his eyelids is not there. Spine so tight it could snap in half, and your fingers curl around the brush before you place it down stiffly. “Though,” Mr. Moore clicks his tongue, taking one step closer.

Your eyes widen, but you say nothing. Your mind flashes to John, and there’s a longing for the ocean so strong, it seems a good idea to you, to rush out the door right now and sprint for it; hurl yourself to the waves, if need be. He’d find you—you know he would.

“Though,” Noah continues, tilting his head. “There is a striking resemblance to a creature I recall seeing from the cliffs, the day my wife’s body was found at the rocks.”

Backing up another step, your muscles ache with how you hold them like a shield to your organs.

“As far as I know, only two others were searching at my side that day. And in it I am certain,” he hums, “you weren’t even here.”

Otto and the librarian, you think quickly, mind a mess of information and fear. It’s why they’re so spooked. They think John actually killed Eleanor and left her—they saw him bring her body to shore.

It’s a lack of foresight on your part, that the next bark is more of a reaction to the panic than proper knowledge, cracking under pressure.

“John would never kill an innocent woman!”

It’s as if a switch goes off, and, suddenly, there’s a ruthless hand grabbing at your throat. Yelping, you stagger back and snap your fingers to Noah’s wrist, clawing until there’s blood under your nails; air is sucked in with a wheeze. In the back of your head, there’s wild screaming, and you can’t tell if it’s the pounding of your blood or the internal sensation of primal fear.

Raging eyes shove themselves right in front of yours, faces so close you can feel Noah’s hot breath moving over your burning face. You try to cough but find you can’t as one of your hands struggles to slap to the side table—searching fruitlessly.

“John?” Noah sneers, holding tighter. “The thing has a name?”

Your easel clatters to the ground, back being shoved right into it. Mouth opening and closing, the cut of oxygen reduces your mind to acting purely off instinct—breaking down like glass to fracture to only one thing: survival.

“It was perfect,” Mr. Moore growls, eyes ablaze. “I had it all planned out, only to be ruined by a freak of nature at the last moment!”

Your nails gouge the wood, dragging, searching, slapping. Anything—anything at all to help as your boots scrape from under you. You can’t even comprehend the words being said; all of it is a blur as blackness peels the side of your vision.

Tears splatter down your cheeks.

“Two years, and then you had to come along and fucking speak to it! What did it tell you? Eh? What did it see that night?”

Your hand curls the glass bottle where you store your brushes and without another thought, you slam the side of it to Noah’s head.

Shouting, the man releases you in an instant, glass leaving long lines of blood splattering out to sprinkle your face as it shatters, collapsing into itself. Connecting to the ground, your hacking can only take place for under two seconds before your boots scramble for purchase, stumbling and flailing at least once; lungs gasping.

Shoulder connecting with the side of the door frame as you bang it open, an enraged scream follows you into the rainy afternoon, the rumble of deadly thunder far overhead.

Running, you don’t know how to stop, and it’s even harder to catch your breath by the time you’re down to the rocks, looking over your shoulder as if Noah would be right behind you. He wasn’t—but the fear was enough to keep you going until you were bathed in sweat and barely strong enough to fall into the entrance of John’s cave, fingers cut up and raw from grappling over stone.

There’s a quick call of your name from across the enclosed space, but your ears are ringing too loud to hear—whipping around to stare at the entrance as you struggle back on your hands, legs shaking.

“Love!”

Your eyes slash to the side, and through the quivering of your lashes, through the blur of tears, you lock onto the desperate slash of grayish-blue that’s a near-perfect reflection of the ocean itself. Painting, the realization comes a moment too late, as pale fingers touch your cheek and you flinch back with a deep pain in your neck.

Pulsing veins echo along your entire body, but there, at the point of where hands had wrapped your flesh, it burned with a horrible fire that made thin noise escape your lips.

“Hey,” John breathes, having dragged himself at a moment’s notice across the floor of the cave. “Hey,” he repeats slower, eyes slashing you up and down for any sign of injury.

His hand is outstretched, but he doesn’t try to touch you again seeing how you’d jerked away. The man’s heart had stopped at that—his concern shooting up similar to how he felt when you’d raced through the entrance as if a fire was on your heels. A near panic at the fear on your face, leaving his body on high alert; eyes skating the surrounding quickly.

But the splatters of blood on your face were something to reduce him to an enraged beast.

“What is going on,” he tries to keep the rough anger from his tone, attempting to leave it soft and smooth. There’s only so much he can do, though, as you shake and pant.

Your body gradually slows itself, attention seeping back to allow you to take control of your limbs. The first thing you see clearly is John’s outstretched hand, and, then, the clench of his jaw—the eyes that follow every teardrop down the flesh of your cheek.

Openly gazing, when John sees you’re back, his blues slip to a softened caress.

“Love,” he mutters, face tight.

You shove yourself into his arms and let off a sob that echoes louder than any laughter could. Curling into his chest, water seeps into your shirt, but the all-expansive hand that keeps you close is worth every clothesline you would have to hang.

“Shh,” John breathes, knowing that he’d get an explanation when he calmed you down, even if his mind was breaking itself to try and understand. “I’m right here, Sunshine. Breathe, then…I’m right here, yeah?”

His nose pushes itself into your scalp as your head hides away, quivering body curled like a cat around a fish—no air between the two of you, chests running across the others. So little space, and yet this breathlessness was one you could welcome time and time again.

John watches, eyes always open as he glares into your hair, grip tightening the longer you cry; a feeling so potent brimming in his chest, he would be a fool to ignore it.

You were more precious to him than any ring, than any trinket he could stash away and forget about. The way his heart bent to yours was stronger than any storm.

Breathing down your scent, John sighed, kissed the top of your head, and lightly rocked you back and forth.

He’d wait as long as it took.

—

When it became apparent you couldn’t speak beyond broken little coughs and wheezes, John was quick to bring you to the water of the pool.

Now, perhaps hours later, you sit with the burn and fatigue of crying eyes, sniffling as you shove away the stain of red on your cheeks.

“Careful,” John lightly comments, grasping your hand and pulling it away. His own replaces it, wet from the water he now wades in to help. “Let me get it, eh?”

Your eyes stay stuck to his nose as fingers push away the crimson of blood easily, firm but still utterly delicate.

“I’m not glass,” you croak, one hand near your throat.

Blue eyes blink at you. “Never said you were,” he grunts, frowning, and you see his Adam’s Apple bob. “Don’t like seeing you with blood on your face, Love.”

Like it had never happened, the fingers return, and a moment later, he grumbles out, “And stop talking—you’ll make it worse.”

You hadn’t explained, not yet, but by the utter rage you see John trying to hide from you, you know he understands how you might have gotten the swelling now present on your neck. His heart had been visibly pumping the entire time you’d been here; you could hear it when he was holding you, a relentless, thump-thump-bump, thump-thump-bump in your ear.

The brunette had been clenching his jaw more as well, grunting as if a boar after every sentence, a nervous habit, perhaps. He was trying to mask it for you, but you weren’t blind.

John pauses his cleaning, glancing at your throat.

He studies your face after he hums under his breath, having to dart his gaze away for a moment.

“...Can I?” You pause, swallowing as the burn persists.

Nodding after a minute of slow contemplation, cold hands shift to press carefully—not tightening, not holding you there—resting to give relief. You only tense a little, but as the seconds draw, John watches you sag forward with a large sigh through your nose.

He lets a small sliver of calm enter him.

“Easy,” John whispers, blinking. He keeps the chill of his hands at your neck, fins shifting the water to keep him still. “When you’re ready, explain it to me, eh?” His head tilts, voice a low tease. “Glass or not.”

Your lips twitch, and the way your eyes melt could only be compared to safety. You open your lips, and John mutters lowly as your fingers brush over his own, “Quietly, now. Can hear just fine—don’t push yourself.”

Blue flickers to your touch, fingertips trailing his knuckles as the man grunts, attention fluttering back.

All you say is one name.

“Noah.”

There’s a moment of confusion on John’s face, skin wrinkling, before the understanding settles swiftly—he wasn’t a fool. From there, his expression changes ten times over; that rage, then fear for you, confusion, and stubbornness. It’s of little surprise to you that a man so loyal was reduced to a dog.

A dog with scales, that is.

Your body is still running hot—your heart still pumping, though the adrenaline has left with all of its stimulation. You’re tired, yes, that much is obvious. But you want John to hold you again.

When you shift your body, the man’s eyes widen, and he blinks quickly in shock as your legs then slip into the waves inch by inch.

A noise exits the back of his throat, and John’s mouth moves in serious question. “What are you doing? Fucking hell, would you just stay still and let me have a look at you—”

Arms grapple around his waist, and a warm head burrows into his neck.

You rest against him, body suspended in the water of the deep pool, a merman’s tail swishing to shove you the tiniest bit closer unconsciously. John’s chest bounces with every emotion, but all he does is stop you from sinking by holding you. Your eyes close at the dig of his hands, and, letting the water move the both of you, the smooth scales along your legs feel as if the finest silk. A thumb caressing up and down your spine; breath at the top of your head.

You both say nothing, and it’s a long while before either of you takes any action to leave.

—

When your words could be strung together and not broken every other sentence, you explained all of it, and the hunch you’d strung together in the meantime.

You fiddle with one of John’s rings—the emerald one—as you glance up and speak softly, voice still delicate. The pain still blossomed, but some things needed to be explained.

“I think he killed his wife.”

By the way John stops massaging the flesh of your neck, letting you rest your head in the crook of where his tail begins and skin ends, you knew he already pieced that together a while ago. Your clothes were still heavy with water, and a puddle had formed around the both of you on the rocks.

“Hm,” is all John says, fixing the position of his lips as he looks away.

He shakes his head, growling out, “You’re not going back up there. Not while he’s still walking the streets.”

You frown, but John glares without any venom. “It wasn’t a question, Love.”

“What will you do,” you whisper, voice hoarse. A brow quirks. “Run after me, John?”

The man stares, not taking it as lightly as you. “If I have to.”

Your breath hitches, hands resting numbly over the ring as John’s fingers once again continue their touching—as if he can rub away the swelling; the damage of the veins.

“You don’t have legs,” you utter, having to pause in the middle of the sentence to breathe deeply.

“I’ll crawl,” he grunts.

“The rocks are sharp.”

His face is immobile. “Then I’ll bleed.”

Your mind memorized the stubbornness of his expression—the pull of the crow’s feet beside his eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of a joke in John’s eyes; no lie. Watching him, your face is loose with wonder, and water drips from your temple to connect with those dark navy scales, glinting with the light from the outside sun growing low.

The ring in your hands is frozen, stopping its turning as your pulse soars.

John licks the corner of his mouth, glancing at the item of gold and green.

“Keep it,” he mutters, tilting his head to the ring. “More of a use to you.”

Larger fingers capture yours, and in one deft motion, the elegant item is slipped onto your digit, sitting comfortably as if made just for you.

John shrugs. “The rest of ‘em, too, if you want the damn things.” His blues card over the view of your hand, and imagines fingers filled with every bit of gold and silver obtainable to him, brought up from the ocean just to sit pretty atop your flesh. Necklaces, bracelets, belts, and accessories; the things he’d seen from far distant waters.

Oh, but they’d pale in comparison to how you would wear them.

A muse to a song. A painter to a portrait.

A women to the water.

He’d seen your latest sketches—you’d brought them down to him here—and when you were exploring this cave, he had taken a peak. Unlike him, yes, but there was a pull to it, that parchment bound by leather. He’d not seen anything like it, and as he had watched you work on occasion, he was entranced as he’d listened to you explain it. You’d told him that you could even manipulate color, and that had left his eyes widening in awe.

You were incredible, and when he saw his own likeness littering page after page, John had been unable to take his eyes off of you. A silent appreciation—a voiceless devotion. He’d never been…captured like this, so to speak. A mirror image. Details he didn’t even know himself, and yet there they were.

Beauty marks across his cheeks and nose, the scars that littered his flesh that he’d all but forgotten about, the list was endless.

But he looks at you now, and he can understand why there’s a draw to immortalize the mortal.

His fingers stay at yours, and they brush skin as they dip along your hand, falling to your wrist. You stare up into his eyes, he stares down into yours. There’s little air to be taken in between the two of you.

“John,” you utter, blue gaze stuck to your lips.

He hums, tilting his head, his body looming over yours like a shadow. By the time his face is so near to yours, you don’t want to fight it, you don’t want to think about the strangeness of this predicament you’ve found yourself in—a creature living in the cliffs, handsome and half-inhuman.

When smooth lips brush over yours, and your eyelashes begin to flutter, the shouts from outside break whatever spell had just started weaving itself.

Head snapping up, John’s body tenses as you push upward quickly. Attention slashing to the cave entrance, it’s not long before you realize what’s going on with a sharp breath and a leap to your pulse.

The smash of something connecting to rocks echoes like a feral killing song. Yells. Yowls.

“John,” you say hurriedly, flinching from the pain in your throat. Your eyes dart to his tension-ridden form, his arms wrapping above your body. “You need to run,” you choke out. “Go! Quickly!”

You only get a glance, and the clench of his jaw is as stubborn as it always is. Your brain already knows it’s fruitless. He won’t leave you here alone.

“They’ll kill you!” Your hands push at his chest, finger grasping at the bristle of hair to try and shove at an iron will.

“Stay under me,” John mutters, voice low and nothing more than a chilled order. Yet, even he knows there’s little that he’d be able to do. His eyes flashed to every trinket and bauble he had collected, the new ones he’d yet to show to you, but there was few in the way of weapons. A dagger or two from a trench, a sword from under a ship—a spearhead. All too far away and rusted for it to even matter.

There was a sharp feeling in John’s chest. A need. An oath that he gave to himself the moment he’d seen the way your little stick could breathe his image onto a sheet made of fibers.

He was to watch over you whenever you were in his sights, and that had extended itself to gliding through the water as he watched you climb and grunt your way to his cave; a careful eye that he had no need to tell you about. That was just how he was.

“John!” You try to bark again, growing desperate.

Yet, it was already too late, and the merman hadn’t shifted even an inch before Noah, Otto, and the Librarian burst through the entrance like bats from hell. They hold all manner of weapons, though the more you blink in a panic, the less afraid of them you seem, at the very least, the older man and the woman.

Otto held a cut-up and dented club, nothing more than something you’d keep for a home invasion beside the bed—the Librarian, a heavy book that seemed to contain every bit of information available to the world, so large it strained in her hands. Noah, though, was a different story.

He had a sharp, long knife and eyes that could cut flesh by themselves.

Half of Mr. Moore’s face was sliced up, cuts leaking blood to the ground—skin hanging and an eye completely poked with glass; shards in its gentle makeup.

You swallow saliva and stutter through a shaking breath, and John’s glare could burn cities as he feels it reverberating against him.

“There!” Noah shouts, balking closer. “See! I knew it was here—seducing the next woman to take to the ocean!”

Your wide eyes try to take it all in, hands slapping the ground sending droplets of collected water flying. John’s face hones in, digging in like how the glass from your brush container had into Noah’s visage, and, somehow, you think that dead stare can cause more damage. Grasping the merman’s waist, you attempt and silently urge him to go.

“Girl!” Otto calls quickly, eyes darting from you to John and back. Even if you could yell, you’re not sure you would. You wouldn’t even know what to say. “Get away from it!”

“I’d put that down,” John grunts to Noah, disregarding the old man and the librarian entirely. He clenches his jaw. “‘Fore you end up hurting yourself. Leave.”

“Otto,” you start, glancing at the woman beside your friend who looked like she was about to pass out when John had started to speak. The man in question’s face pulls, wrinkles thinning. “You have to listen to me, please, it’s not how Mr. Moore told you—”

“It speaks!” Noah barks, pointing his knife harder at John. “Freak of nature, it already has its hold on her.”

“Oh my,” the Librarian gasps. “Noah, it’s horrible—look at the tail.”

Your eyes flare with rage as John doesn’t react.

“Hey!” You shout, but instantly slap your free hand to your throat, coughing raggedly until your spine hunches. The merman brings you closer, but you’re already pushing until you’re on your feet, stumbling for a moment as John gives you a sharp look.

“You watch your bloody mouth,” you grid out, glaring, whipping your hands to get rid of the water droplets. Noah licks his lips as John grabs onto the back of your knee, fingers resting firmly. Sending a look down to him, your shoulders loosen at the expression he levels. You can almost hear the words.

Steady. Keep your head on.

Though, a slash of silent pride made your heart stutter a small bit.

Your eyes glint. “Drop your weapons,” your sentence is crackling but nonetheless sharp. “Leave. John is innocent—he told me all of it.” You turn to Otto. “Mr. Moore attacked me in my shop, I smashed a glass container into his head so he would release me.” Otto tenses, club getting strangled by his fingers.

“Noah killed Eleanor,” you breathe, John’s grip pulling a bit tighter as if sensing something you have yet to see. Noah shifts quickly, boots squeaking along the rock as he growls.

“Absurd—!”

“He pushed her over the rocks and blamed John when he saw him bringing back her body,” you interrupt as fast as you can, pain bouncing off your throat. “You all saw it on the shore, the lie was simple enough for a man like him. Saying she drowned to a creature.”

It didn’t surprise you that John was quiet, that he was studying more the stance of men instead of talking or trying to defend himself. While he could be hard-headed and stiff, he was never dull—he never missed ques. So when Noah launched himself at you, Otto and the Librarian more confused and concerned than anything, there was only a heavy push on the back of your knee that left you buckling with a gasp, and then the explosion of water as John sent you both quickly to the water.

Hands whipping to snare around the merman’s shoulders, you’re only able to get a quick breath in before you’re completely enveloped in water, with John’s hand setting itself over your mouth just in case. The sudden rush is comparable to a heavy wind, yet far more cold and nearly like a slap to the back of your spine.

You both disappear into the deep with a spray, Noah’s muffled yells of terror seen far above near the surface, arms captured by the Librarian and Otto—held at his sides. There’s a flash of those dark eyes, horrible things, and then John’s fins hide the rest as they slash through the water.

When you both resurface, retreating far back near the watery entrance of the cave, John keeps you firmly behind him, your arms around his waist as you gasp for air. He keeps his head slightly turned to the side—always having you in the corner of his vision. Above the spread of his shoulders, you peek softly, legs suspended below.

“Lier!” Noah screams, face contorted. “She’s lying!”

You look at Otto and see the grim way he’s already looking back, struggling to keep the younger individual from breaking free. He was sensical, but stubborn in his ways. Otto had a choice just as the librarian did—believe a woman who’d been here a year or someone they’d known nearly their entire lives.

“Noah,” Otto grunts, gritting his teeth. “Breathe, boy! Stop spitting, let her speak—”

The knife in Noah’s hands slashes the air, and suddenly there’s a yell from the librarian and a spray of blood.

“Otto!” You scream, fingers flinching.

The old man stumbles, hoarsely crying out as he grasps at his neck. Your eyes widen, mouth ajar as John pushes his hand into your head, shoving it into the back of his hair as he watches blankly, eyes glinting with a deadly hate.

“Don’t move,” he utters quickly, sternly, to you as your breath breaks, mouth slack to stare at nothing. Scales skate your legs, great kelp-like fins curling your ankle. “Keep still. Focus on my words, Love.” Under his breath is a tight, “Fuck!”

John speaks above the gargling—the spillage of blood to stone. He mutters through the screams of the Librarian as Noah slips trying to run to the entrance, scrambling with bulging eyes.

“Don’t look,” John says to you lowly, shifting his body as he keeps your face hidden away and let him hold you like a corpse to the earth. The sounds…oh, the sounds were horrible.

But the man holding you tries very hard to hide them.

Your body quivers violently as the slam of a body hits the ground, the frantic calling of the woman still here with the both of you; the loud calls from the fleeing murder outside the walls.

“That’s it,” John’s fast lips are on the top of your head, muttering and trying to make his voice as even as possible. “That’s it, then. Doing good, don’t move until I say so, alright?”

When you don’t answer, only shoving your visage deeper into his neck, his spine-breaking-hold squeezes once, and his pounding heart bounces opposite yours. You don’t have to say you know him to understand that he’s only holding onto a thread of good manners, and that was certainly only for our own sake.

Otto was dead.

John leads you out, the gold and emerald of your ring glinting in the moonlight as he holds your body to his, the powerful make of his tail doing the work as it shines in the water. He leaves you outside, where the still running form of Noah is visible, yet the only person noticing is John himself. Your hands are so shaky that it would be impossible to hold your sketchbook, let alone a pencil.

John takes one of them as Mr. Moore gets too close to the shoreline, slipping and getting his foot caught in between two stones. He panics, yelling loudly, as water is lapping up to his knee.

“Hey, hey, you hear me?” John asks, uncaring to the man, as he sets you down softly on a flat rock shelf. Fingers move to sit at your chin, and, through tight sniffles, you make delicate eye contact. He blinks, trying a tight smile—a flash nothing more. “There she is. Good...I need you to listen one last time, yeah? Just like before; don’t look until I say so.” Your face creases lightly, blinking through a haze of senses and horror. Otto was dead.

The man that brought you out on his boat—the man that cooked you fish and acted as if a guardian to you. His cat, who would take care of her? It seemed a silly thought given the circumstances, but you can’t stop your mind from running. The house, the boat, the cat. The blood.

“There’s nothing out here that can hurt you,” John grunts, grasping your hands and holding them, letting calluses and scars speak. “So long as I’m here, I won’t let it.”

He nearly growls out the words. In one movement, he puts your hand to his heart, and your brain latches onto the rhythm as your own rampages in your ears.

Noah is still screaming, but now it’s for help.

John’s voice lowers as he utters, “Hey,” the man licks his lips, eyes dancing to the side every once and a while. You stare, swallowing down bile. He says as fluidly as possible, keeping constant locked gazes.

“Stay here. I won’t be long.”

Fingers glide down your neck again, feeling that swelling, and just as you register the kiss that’s leveled to your hand, to that gifted ring, John’s already away; his tail slipping over your flesh, fins gripping, writhing with their film.

Yet, you have no trouble following his advice.

The rising screams from Mr. Moore are numb to you, and the following wave of water that swallows him is only accented by the hand that grapples for his neck.

John always seemed the one for revenge.

—

With the Librarian's newfound cooperation, the story became simple.

Mr. Moore, distraught over the death of his wife, had finally lost it all when down on the beach with Otto, yourself, and the local Librarian—attacking and killing the old man in response to being so near to where he and his wife always traveled to. Afterward, he’d walked into the sea and had taken his own life.

The authorities weren’t going to dispute it.

You sold Otto's house a week after his death, seeing as he’d named you the sole inheritor of his estate and belongings. There was no need for two properties, and sitting in that small place was akin to torture. After all, he’d been doing what he thought was right, and dying for a lie is nothing short of cruel to those left behind who knew the truth.

Harriet stays in the shop with you, where she’ll probably live out the rest of her nine lives peacefully. She’s quite fond of the fireplace.

Most days, people find you near the water, and it’s something that wasn’t going to change even after Noah’s body was found in the rocks—freakishly close to where Eleanor’s had been. Some were calling it poetic and you’d have to agree…but for different reasons.

“You shouldn’t be giving me all of these,” you huff months later, sitting on the rock looking out over the water. A large collection of John’s trinkets is piled high in a wrapping of seaweed, shining bright as you mess with your pencil, leaning to stare at him.

John’s lips flicker into a smirk. He hums, content to watch you, from where he rests not an inch away. You lean into him, sighing, as the innumerable glinting rings on your fingers shimmer.

“Want to,” he grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you look back down to your book, three of four replicas of the man’s scale pattern sitting, shaded and duplicated—lifelike. His tail sways with the water, half of it lost below.

Your hands reach for them now, the scales closest to you, and you lightly poke and prod as John grunts above you, silent but willing in a way that speaks volumes. He’d let no one else touch him like this for the rest of his life—the softness of your fingers and the care on your face more precious than gold. You revered that tail of his; as if it gave over magic like a wishing well.

Shivering, John’s breath hitches as your exploring moves, pushing lightly at where the top of his hips would be.

Your talent was fascinating to him, just as you were. If you wanted to ‘paint’ him, he’d allow you to do all the studies needed. Not only to give you a distraction….but because he can’t bear to be away from you anymore. It makes him nervous, and that in itself is an incredible feat.

“Where do you come from, John,” your question moves the air, and the man moves to pull your jacket higher up your body to stave off the chill. You glance at him, smiling, before your attention returns to your drawings. Sketching more, John resets his lips and tries not to stare at your face. It was getting harder to deny that pull.

That near kiss.

“No answer, Love.” You stare as he quirks a lip, voice lowering. “I won’t be going back to distant waters anytime soon.”

John glances down at your sketchbook, seeing every scratch and bend of care. The both of you were strange creatures, perhaps. Unique—made for one another despite the obvious.

He nods his head to it softly. The water laps at your boots from below, but you care little before John shifts your feet carefully further up with a push from his tail. You chuckle at him breathily, face heating.

“Getting water on you, Love,” he breathes. “New painting soon?” John asks when the silence settles once more, with you shifting your legs to sit under you. He still isn’t sure what painting entails, but you had told him that you would show him soon, so he knows to be patient. But yearning for anything regarding you is ingrained into his mind now—instinct.

“Mhm,” you smile softly, sending a look at your paper and the images. A huff escapes your mouth. “I think I’ll make this one a portrait.”

John blinks, tilting his head slightly. “Portrait? Why’s that?”

Your lips find his, moving back up in an instant.

For a second, the man’s surprised eyes pull back; only lowering as he hums moments later, fingers curling up under your chin as he sags. Lids flutter closed, and his tail twitches lightly.

“I have a subject that’s caught my eye.” You mutter into his flesh when you pull back, face burning as deep blues sear your mind, turning it into mush. Your skin tingles as chilled digits trail your chin, dripping water down your healed throat.

John watches, lips parted, as you continue on.

“And I’d be a fool if I let him swim off.”

The both of you were going to be perfectly fine.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

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zepskies · 11 months ago

Note

Hey could I request angsty and fluffy headcanons for Dean having a crush on reader but he thinks she has a crush on Sam but she actually has a crush on Dean back

Hey lovely!

So I kiiiind of already did this type of prompt with "Dean gives you an impossible choice" and its sequel, "Choosing Him."

But I'll do another imagine in this vein for you! ❤️

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst(ish), fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Dean reads you wrong.

When Dean falls for someone, it's "slow and steady wins the race."

But the spark. That spark is instant.

He feels it with you.

Your pretty smile. Your "get it done" attitude that mirrors his. The way you know all of his references, whether it's movies or TV or music — you grew up learning how to tell time from what was on TV, just like him.

It's the way you laugh with him, share quiet moments of contemplation with him, and even moments of grief with him. Even when it's his grief, you always come. Whether it's to sit beside him, or share a drink with him, or make him something you know he likes, or get him to take a drive with you.

But realistically, you have more in common with Sam.

Both of you are bookish (nerds). You two get into heated discussions about Dante's Inferno and proper Latin translations. (You always accuse Sam of his pronunciations being off, while Sam argues, "At least I remember the whole exorcism. You think the damn demon cares if my vowels are off?")

You and Sam bicker. You playfully tease him, bring smiles to his face just as often as you bring them to Dean's. You're comfortable with him, playfully jabbing his arm or his chest when you mess with him.

Sam takes it with a smile, or a slight roll of his eyes, but always with fondness.

Dean can't help the churning in his stomach. Every time he thinks he has a read on you. Every time he thinks it's safe to maybe, one day, after a hunt, after an episode of Dr. Sexy, after you get out of the shower, after he's made you a home-cooked meal, after you sit with him and talk about everything and nothing while he works on his car — he thinks he might have a shot if he asked you out.

But he always falters, because he just can't fucking tell. He thinks you and Sam have something.

And Dean...he likes you. A lot.

More than he's ever willingly expressed.

But despite his reputation with women, he's never, and will never, step on his brother's toes.

Until he can't help himself.

It's your birthday. Sam got you a series of books he recommended to you last month. (Again, fucking nerds.) Dean got the booze and made the food to celebrate.

But you're surprised, and even a little teary when he brings out the cake he bought at an honest-to-God bakery. He even stood in line, waited 30 minutes to have them write your name on it, with little balloons. The frosting letters are drawn in your favorite color.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean tells you. His tone is a little too soft. It's because he sees your unshed tears, and his heart clenches.

It's just a fucking cake.

Does it really matter that much to you?

But he still feels a well of warmth and pride in his chest. He turns to his brother with a smirk. "I win."

It's meant to be playful, but he kind of means it. Sam just eyes him knowingly.

"Sure," Sam laughs.

What the hell does that mean? Dean nearly frowns. But he's soon distracted — by you leaning in close to kiss him on the cheek.

He turns just in time (with slightly wider eyes) to see you blush.

That smile tells him something.

"Thanks, guys," you say to both of them. But your hand lingers on Dean's wrist, squeezing a bit.

At the end of the night, Sam turns in early. You stick around to help Dean clean up.

"Aw, stop. You're the birthday girl. I got this," Dean says, waving you off. You join him at the kitchen counter and lay a hand on his arm.

"Dean," you say softly. It earns his attention. You look a little nervous, your eyes falling from his, then meeting them again.

"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He's thinking of your lips on his cheek. Unconsciously he glances down at your pretty mouth.

"Was wondering if you could help me with a birthday wish," you said.

A smile begins to tug at your lips, and Dean can't help but smile back. Intrigue, and a small tremor of something triggers up his spine.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asks.

You bite your lip. "Okay...I'm going to ask you this once. Yes or no. And if it's no...then we won't talk about it ever again and you'll have to wipe it out of your memory, because I don't want to make things weird or make you uncomfortable and I don't want to have to do something drastic, like leave the Bunker—"

Dean's smile falls as his brows raise in slight alarm. He also raises placating hands to stop your verbal flapping.

"Whoa, hey. What? What the hell kinda birthday question is this?"

You close your eyes and take a breath. "Okay."

Your eyes open, and as what happens far too often, Dean's captured by them.

"Close your eyes for me," you request.

"My eyes need to be closed to answer a damn question?"

"Damn it, Dean. Just do it, please!"

He lets out a slightly peeved breath, but he obliges you, shutting his lids. He really doesn't know what the hell is going on...until you lay a bracing hand on his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips.

For a moment, he freezes.

He inhales deeply through his nose as the surprise fades.

Relief floods in its wake.

A smile reaches his face.

But soon enough, before you can pull away, he grasps your upper arms to hold you in place. He dips his head down to kiss you in earnest. His lips find yours, gentle at first, and then gaining in passion.

He learns quickly the pattern of your lips, and the heady feeling of that knowing travels straight to his brain, stronger than the whiskey he drank earlier.

It's like you two were made to move together. To end up just like this.

You both are breathless by the time your eyes slide open and meet one another.

Dean's lips curve into a smirk. "How's that answer for ya?"

Your smile is beaming bright.

"Yeah, that works."

Chuckling, he pulls you in closer and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your blush-warmed cheek.

And he answers you again.

AN: Ugh, I'm sappy as hell. 😂 Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. 😉

Read Sam’s version: “Sam reads you wrong.”

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Dean reads you wrong #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #reader requests #ask me stuff #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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leighsartworks216 · 2 months ago

Text

There Is No Love Purer Than Mine

Sylus x gn!Reader

Based on a video I can't find where a girl on one of those dating tv shows says "I love you" to a guy, and he asks her to repeat it again and again as his voice cracks. It's always stuck with me, and now I'm pulling it out of cold storage

Warnings: kissing, crying, declarations of love, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 625

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The words stole the air from your lungs. You stare at Sylus, wide-eyed and trying to remember how to breathe, while he has the audacity to lounge nonchalantly against the sofa and watch.

He smirks at your reaction. His arms are stretched along the back of the couch. His sweater steals the intimidation from his face and invites you to curl into his side. You had been, moments ago, but then he said… He said…

“What’s the matter, kitten?” he asks. It’s playful, but his arm falls to brush a hand against your cheek, betraying the real concern behind the bravado.

You swallow. Your voice comes out as a whisper, still breathless and shaky. “Say it again.”

His smirk softens into a smile. He brushes some hair behind your ear. “I love you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Again.”

This time, he sits forward. His other arm reaches out to hold your hand where it sits in your lap. He says it reverently. “I love you.”

It feels like your body has been dunked in a cold bath. Chills run up your arms. Your chest feels tight. He pulls your blanket tighter around you. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes. “Again…”

“I love you.” He leans forward until your foreheads touch. “I love you.” He cups your cheek and brushes away a tear with his thumb. His eyes never leave yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You close your eyes and lean into his touch - pressing your forehead insistently against his, tilting your face into his hand, shifting closer on the couch. Tears stick to your eyelashes before they fall down your cheeks. He brushes them away diligently. You squeeze his hand tightly.

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low and gentle.

You nod immediately. His long fingers curl around your jaw, fingertips in your hair, holding you to him.

“I love you.”

It’s so soft you almost don’t feel it. The brush of his lips over yours. If you hadn’t feel his breath warming them, you wouldn’t have realized at all. You crack your eyes open to watch when you tilt your chin up, seeking a full, proper kiss.

He answers your demand. Stuttered and solid breaths merge, gasping every time your lips separate, preparing for the next moment they connect. Over and over. The salt of the popcorn clings to his lips, complimenting the salt of your tears. His tongue carries the distinct fruitiness of his wine as it seeks yours out. Tempered moans and sighs pass between each other.

When he pulls away, you strain your neck forward for more, but he presses his thumb to your lips instead. You blink your eyes open at him, glistening and red from crying.

For a second, you’re scared. Scared he’ll take it back. Scared he’ll toss you aside, laugh in your face, leave you behind. Scared he’ll leave a scar on your heart that will never fully mend.

But he doesn’t.

He kisses the corner of your mouth. Your cheek. Under your eye. Over your closed eyelid. When he pulls back, he doesn’t stray far.

“Come here, my beloved,” he coos as he pulls you into his side. You wrap your arms around his torso, bury your wet face into his sweater. He wraps both arms around you, too, a silent promise not to let go.

The movie is just background noise now. You have no idea what’s happening in the story and you can’t give a damn. When you rest your chin against him to look at his face, he’s not watching either.

“I love you…” you whisper, tentative. Testing the shark-infested waters and trusting he’ll save you.

And he does.

“I love you, too, kitten.”

---

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #hurt/comfort

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crossingthedreams · 2 months ago

Text

do better — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: I got a little carried away, per usual, and now I’m late with day 04 of the angstober challenge (still a wyp), but I plan on finishing it and posting later today. but, omg, I can’t believe I'm posting day 05 — do better on time! this is also part of @angstober‘s challenge, which I'm having a blast writing. I do love some angsty vibes. please, feel free to comment or dm me!

summary: a relationship between the boss and his employee has a million ways to go wrong. one, in particular, hurt them the most.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: angst. House is an asshole. mentions of family death. mentions of cancer. struggles with immigration. inappropriate relationship. mentions of smut.

Let medicine be thy food.

That's the quote, or at least you think it is. After a particularly long shift, words in English seemed to scramble together a bit, with it being your second language and all. Usually, you’re a natural, perfect, fluent speaker. There are moments, however, when understanding what your peers are saying or formulating cohesive sentences becomes a herculean task. You didn’t make yourself unintelligible, but it was a little awkward to be with a patient who clearly had no idea how globalized the world was and how many doctors in the United States were not native English speakers, and who looked at you like you had just robbed the white coat from a “proper doctor”.

Sure, dealing with people was shitty sometimes. “Doctors don’t treat people, they treat illnesses”, your boss had once said. But in your mind, people weren’t that bad. The long hours, the sleep deprivation, the lack of a social life — that was the really bad part. And there were, of course, the very short lunch breaks.

Medicine was fun, but it had nothing on a full plate of pasta with those weird looking meatballs. What once was disgusting, now seemed appetizing as hell. Not eating once while working for the whole night could do that to a person. Medicine was not food, at least not literally.

You had taken off your sweater and your white coat a while before going to the cafeteria, where the rest of the team was. As of right now, you and Chase had spent thirty-six hours working. Cameron and Foreman had taken the long straws and gone home last night while you and the prettiest doctor around worked on some lab tests.

That man who, right now, was not really trying to hide how he lustfully eyed you up and down, stopping on your cleavage. You didn’t blame him for looking, though. Firstly, you did spend the night working together and you mentioned that you did not have sex for the last six months, and secondly, you had nice boobs, which was both a blessing and a curse. Also, he was very much exhausted. Thinking about your coworkers in an unfashionable manner to keep awake was better than falling asleep atop of a patient during a lumbar puncture — you had done both, so you could tell, oops.

“I’ll die if I have to do any more thinking”, the pretty doctor said, accent even more prominent, letting his head drop to the headrest of his seat behind him.

“Yes, thinking just doesn’t come naturally to some people”, you laughingly replied, sitting down next to Foreman. He scooched over, making more room for you and your tray. There was enough pasta on your plate to feed two, not to mention the salad, the dessert, the can of Coke and the can of energy drink.

“Damn, kid, do you not have food at home?” You eyed Foreman, a little annoyed at the comment. Why did men think they had the right to comment on women’s food choices and bodies all the damn time? “Don’t give me that look, you know that’s a lot, especially for a girl who skips lunch every other day”.

“Not by choice” you said, taking a lot of pasta into your mouth. “Nof ba chos”, you replied, mouth full, making everyone at the table let out a tired laugh.

It was an uneventful meal. The team was really tired, especially Chase, who almost dropped his head on his plate twice. The four of you rushed upstairs when lunch was over, after being paged by your boss.

The man himself was pacing back and forth in the conference room, brows furrowed and looking extremely aggravated. Nothing new, then, you think, sitting down across from Cameron.

Allison Cameron and you had been friends since med school, and getting to work together was pretty nice. Women in STEM need each other, of that you were sure. The thing is, she was in a weird place romantically, which made you feel weird about getting along with the people about whom she was confused — which hardly makes sense, but it is what it is. She had a crush on your boss for the longest time, and that didn’t work out at all. And then there was Chase, who she had slept with, but had no interest in further pursuing.

Hanging out with Chase knowing he’d seen her naked was a little weird, but the fact they’d slept together wasn’t the problem. He liked her, and that was her problem. Your boss, well, he was everybody’s problem.

Particularly yours, considering… you know. The one-night-that-became-every-night. The HR-nightmare. The doing-the-devil’s-tango. The seeing-each-other-scars. The kissing-and-absolutely-not-telling.

It was fairly easy sneaking around. He was inappropriate, sure, but not big on PDA. He treated you like any other dumbass employee with boobs. If anyone saw the two of you leaving the hospital together? You worked together. If you were seen going towards the same place? You’re neighbors, duh. And if anyone happened to see the two of you having breakfast together in the little café a block around his place? Well, it was a coincidence meeting him there!

If they saw you giving him head while he tried to play the piano, well… There’s no explanation for that.

You looked at him coming and going, and you knew his leg must be killing him. Yesterday when you left his home in the morning to pick up your stuff for the day (which turned out to be the day, the night and the next day), he was popping more pills than usual. Shit.

“New case?”, Cameron asked, looking at the limping man with worry and care in her eyes. You liked her a lot, but she had to stop thinking about your limping man with such care.

Sure, she liked him first. And she probably worried for him just as she would anyone else. And it was ridiculous to be annoyed at your long-time friend for caring for her boss. Still, there was a sting of jealousy that made you want to bitch-slap her.

He finally stopped and looked at all of you. When his eyes finally met you, he looked right at your low cut top and let out a “Yowza!”. When you blushed and stood up to pick your white coat, he called your last name, and said, nonchalantly: “Nice boobs”.

You raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you sat down. It might seem like sexual harassment — and at first, it was a little bit —, but now it was just him being as inappropriate as always. Hiding from his feelings, keeping his distance with pathetic remarks and cold attitudes. It made you sad when you started working for him, but right now, you pinched your nose to stop you from giggling like a sixteen year old cheerleader being noticed by the boy on the football team. Or rather, the boy on the bench cursing at the stupid players.

Dr. Gregory House had a massive crush on you, and that made all the shit he did go away.

You realized Chase started updating House on the patient you spent all night testing and monitoring. Truth is, that guy didn’t stand a chance for a normal life here on forward. At best, he had a benign hereditary chorea. Worst case scenario, it was Huntington manifesting earlier than it should, as you’d been saying from the beginning.

“Shut up”, House said to Chase, making those blue Australian eyes widen. Poor guy, he looked beyond exhausted. “I understand how DNA testing works. I went to med school too, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was seven hundred years ago”, you let out before you could think twice. You teased House a little for being older. Scratch that, you gave him a lot of crap for being older. You just didn’t do it in front of the team, which was why they all looked at you horrified.

Horrified, but Foreman was holding in a laugh.

The ‘old-man’ hit his cane on the desk, turning the attention back to him. “Ouch”.

You smiled, playing it off like a remark made by an exhausted overworked young woman who disliked her boss. House half-screamed some orders to all of you, even though he already knew you had clinic duty.

The hours left to finish on the clinic were manageable, so you could finish it after you did some of the tests House asked.

Time passed by too quickly, and as your day went by, you remembered you had to talk to Wilson as soon as possible. It wasn’t a life or death matter, but a peace of mind kind of thing. You decided to stop by his office before you It was then that you overheard something you shouldn’t have.

Well, that brought the high school memories right back.

It was the middle of the afternoon, also known as the beginning of your third shift in a row, and you were stopping by Wilson’s office to discuss a private matter. A family member of yours had cancer, and then another one. By the time your fourth relative came down with the diagnosis, you decided to check your genetic predisposition. Although the tests came back clean, meaning you were safe for oncology purposes, you still wanted to know his opinion on how you could be even safer.

You looked cancer in the eyes many times. You didn’t want to look at it in the mirror too.

For some godly reason, you stopped before knocking. That’s when you recognized your boss’s voice, complaining about something, per usual.

“She’s a baby! She had never watched Grease, for crying out loud”, the voice and the footsteps made their sounds in harmony. You leaned in closer to the door, to try and listen better.

“Well, you two barely know each other, now it’s the time to know if there’s a future in this relationship or not. And would you ever marry her?”, Wilson’s voice, and the words made you freeze.

“Not everyone has marriage on the brain 24/7, Wilson”, House replied. Even from behind the door, you could almost hear the engines in his brain turning. “And God, no. I could never marry her. I can do better than a gullible third-world princess”.

You froze.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. Even if he didn’t mean it.

The realization came like an electrical shock flowing through your body. You felt it, and it made the hairs on the nape of your neck rise.

You meant nothing to him.

As an immigrant, the feeling of never belonging is constant. You don’t belong in the place you now live, but you don’t really belong in the place you were born.

You had felt for a fraction of a second that you could find your place here. In House's department. Perhaps, even with House. God, you were stupid. You were a device for him to finish his puzzles, and an object to finish… Well, to finish himself off.

As you left your transe and heard the voices again, you ran as fast as you could back to the clinic, where you had a couple hours left to finish. There was something you needed to arrange with Cuddy, too.

Hours later, you were in the department’s room reading some exams when House walked in.

He eyed you up and down again, eyes lingering on your breasts a little longer than a boss’ eyes normally would. “So”, he took his bootle from his jacket and opened it, popping a couple of pills, “your place or mine?”

“You suck”, you murmured, angrily, but pouting a little. He’d never admit it, but he loved seeing you a little aggravated, crossing your arms in front of your body in a way that made your already eye-catching torso irresistible.

He smiled a little, putting the medicine back in his pocket. “No, sweetheart”, he now fully grinned, “that’s you.”

You rolled your eyes, but let your arms fall and a cold smile creeped into your face.

“Yes, I do, actually”, you rose up from the chair and walked all the way towards him, hitting your hand towards his chest and pressing the paper you were holding against him. “I’m a full on sucker, and ass-kisser, as you like to point out. That’s why your so called mortal enemy offered me a job in New York”.

He took the paper, blue eyes never leaving yours.

“Consider this my two weeks notice”. It was hard to say, but it felt a little good, too. Logically, there were no downsides in this opportunity. Then, why did it hurt so much? “I guess everyone was right. I can do better”.

The double meaning was not lost on House.

Your hand finally left his chest, and he didn’t look back as you left.

Looking at it now, it all seems so simple. It never is, though, is it? Especially with House. And you, an intelligent, kind, talented and ambitious young woman, could definitely do better than attach yourself to a crippled, bitter, odious older man.

You were doing better now. So, why, pray tell, why did this still hurt so much?

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hnslchw · 1 month ago

Text

if she wasn't your last - LN4 X Reader

Summary: You haven't felt this uncertain before. Now that doubts about Lando's lingering feelings for his ex have surfaced, you're struggling to move past them. As your insecurities grow, you're finding it harder to trust him, wondering if you'll ever truly have his heart.

Based on "Did you like her in the morning?" by NIKI. (highly recommended to play this while reading)

Warnings/Themes: heavy angst and overthinking insecurities (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word count: 1.2k

Author's note: hello everyone!! This would be my very first story im ever posting on tumblr, pls be kind. For the longest time l've just been appreciating everyone's stories. I hope you guys enjoy (pls tell me if there's anything I should change or look into tumblr settings wise). English isn't my first language and im a tad bit dyslexic please bear with me if there are any errors HAHAH but please comment what you think. Thank you <3

It was never hard loving Lando. It was a whirlwind, an intoxicating rush of emotions you never thought you'd experience. Someone like him, bright and vibrant, taking a chance on someone like you—a girl who had never been in a proper relationship before. It felt surreal, perfect, at least in the beginning.

His past relationships were never something you dwelled on. Everyone has a past, you told yourself. You were confident, secure. Or so you thought. But that was before you both went public with your relationship, before the internet got involved, before every picture of you two sparked comparisons you hadn’t asked for. His ex-girlfriend, the one everyone seemed to prefer, loomed like a shadow over everything.

Suddenly, you were scrolling through endless posts dissecting every detail—her smile, her style, the effortless way she seemed to fit into Lando’s world. You, by comparison, felt like an outsider.

You tried to brush it off at first, laughing along with Lando when he made jokes about the craziness of social media. But when you opened your phone, those comparisons started to chip away at you. Even worse, there were moments with Lando that made it impossible to ignore. Like now.

He was rifling through his drawers, his movements frantic, eyes wild with panic.

“Where is it?” he muttered, slamming another drawer shut before turning to you. “Have you seen it? My bangle, the silver one?”

You felt your stomach drop at the mention of the bangle. The one his ex-girlfriend gave him. He never talked about her, but you always noticed how careful he was with that piece of jewelry, how he wore it every day, like it was some kind of talisman. The fact that it wasn’t on his wrist now sent him into a frenzy.

“No, I haven’t seen it,” you said softly, watching him tear through his things.

“Damn it,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I lost it.”

“Lando…” You hesitated, unsure if you should even say anything, but the words slipped out anyway. “Why does it matter so much? It’s just a bracelet.”

He stopped, looking at you like you’d just said something offensive. “It’s not just a bracelet,” he snapped. “I’ve had it for years.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I know, but…it was from her, wasn’t it?”

He froze, the question hanging in the air between you. His expression softened, and he sighed, but he didn’t deny it. “Yeah, but that’s not the point. It’s… it’s sentimental, you know?”

You nodded, even though you didn’t quite understand. It was hard not to feel like you were competing with someone who wasn’t even here anymore, someone who left behind pieces of herself in Lando’s life that you couldn’t match.

“I get that,” you said quietly, “but sometimes… I feel like she’s still here. Like you’re still holding on to her.”

Lando blinked, his panic slowly giving way to confusion. “That’s not true. You know I’m with you.”

“I do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But when you act like this—freaking out over something she gave you—it makes me wonder if part of you still wishes she was here.”

His gaze softened, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. It’s not about her, I swear. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to believe him. But deep down, the doubt was still there, lingering, just like the bangle that had somehow become a symbol of everything you weren’t sure you could compete with.

That night, after everything settled down and the search for the bangle was abandoned, you lay next to Lando in bed. The room was dark, filled only with the soft hum of the city outside and the faint sound of his breathing. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you closer in his sleep. It was a familiar gesture, one that should’ve comforted you, but instead, your thoughts were miles away.

Did his hand find her waist like this?

The thought crawled into your mind, uninvited but persistent. You could almost see it—her leaning against him, laughing with that carefree confidence everyone loved, while he pulled her close, their night buzzing with that electric excitement.

Did he kiss her goodnight?

Did he hope the night would never end?

You close your eyes, willing the thoughts to go away, but they don’t. Instead, they morph into another image, one that stings even more.

Did he laugh with her over cold cups of coffee that he hated but still drank anyway?

You’d seen him do it a thousand times with you—pushing a cup of something bitter away with a grimace, teasing you about your questionable taste, but always taking another sip. Was it the same with her? Was she the reason he developed the habit in the first place?

The questions wouldn’t stop. Every memory you shared with him felt tainted now, overshadowed by the possibility that they weren’t really yours at all. Maybe you were just walking through scenes he had already lived, following in someone else’s footsteps, trying to fill a space that was never truly empty.

Beside you, Lando shifted, pulling you even closer in his sleep, but it didn’t feel like enough. You stared at the ceiling, blinking back the burning sensation in your eyes. You wanted to wake him up, to ask him Did you laugh with her like that? Did you hold her like this? Did you want her more than you want me?

But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed silent, letting the questions twist and tangle inside you like a knot you couldn't unravel, the truth too painful to confront. You turned to look at him, his features peaceful in sleep, and wondered if you’d ever know the answers to those questions or if they would haunt you forever.

In the early morning light, his fingers traced lazy circles on your skin, but his eyes seemed distant, lost in a memory that didn’t belong to you. Did he like her in the mornings too? Was his smile brighter then? Did he hold her closer?

The quiet moments between you were filled with unspoken questions, the weight of his past love pressing between every breath. He said your name softly, but it didn’t feel like enough to anchor him here, with you. You're falling, but you wonder—has he ever truly caught you? Or is his heart still wrapped in the warmth of a love that wasn’t yours?

You want to ask him. The question sits on the tip of your tongue, Are you still in love with her? But you don't. You stay silent, afraid that by giving voice to your insecurities, you'll make them real. You cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you're overthinking it, that it's all in your head. After all, he’s with you now, right? That should be enough.

But deep down, you can't shake the feeling that you're sharing him with a memory, a past that he hasn’t fully let go of. And it's hard to compete with a memory. So, you keep your doubts hidden, tucked away in the corners of your mind, even as they threaten to pull you under.

Because in the end, you're afraid of the truth: that he loved her in the mornings, just like this. And maybe, just maybe, a part of him still does.

"I know it would be easier if I just didn't ask, but it'd also be easier if she wasn't your last"

#lando norris #ln4 #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #ln4 x reader #lando imagine #lando angst #lando norris angst #lando hurt #ln4 angst #ln4 imagine #lando norris imagine

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jockwrites · 2 months ago

Text

LUST - p.b

warnings: smut, (over 20 asks for smut.) cursing, drinking, straight people

part: 3 (last part)

a/n: this prob bad and i didn’t proof read so lmk ok bye im gonna go ahead and post this

two months. that’s how long it’s been since the last time you’ve spoken to paige.

since she left that night, you can’t say it’s been better, but you’re definitely learning how to prioritize yourself.

the way she hurt you did enough damage, and the guilt she left within you made your blood boil.

but you can’t deny you miss her, because you do.

besides that, you’ve seemed to find yourself within the time period between the breakup.

you dyed your hair blonde, got the belly piercing you’ve been wanting, & you’ve started to get your nails & hair done more often.

to you, life has been great.

but the only thing that’s missing is your girl.

the girl who made you feel special, loved, prioritized.

but you have to accept the fact that she’s gone, and you’ve been coping with it.

besides all of that, tonight you’re going to a “night out” event at a local bar. sounds risky, but you need it after everything you’ve been through these last few months.

as you shower, washing out the dirt that’s been accumulating in your hair, you hear an incoming call from your best friend.

you open the shower door, water dripping from your arms as you go to answer it.

“i’m in the shower lilly what do you want.” you speak, annoyed.

“who the hell pissed in your cereal,” she asks, giggling, “but anyway what’re you wearing honey bun”

“well if you would’ve let me shower and actually figure out what i wanna wear then i could’ve given you a proper answer.”

“chill outtt jeez but ok. also paige is going”

“and how do you know this creep?”

“welll.. it was kinda on my for you page..?”

“why is she on your for you page to begin with?”

“ok not the point. but supposedly she’s going because of her brand deal with madison reed to celebrate something.. like i actually have no idea but look your best and make the bitch jealous ok byeee enjoy your shower,” she rambled.

after she hangs up, you immediately turn off the shower & get out to dry off.

you have to look perfect tonight.

you dry yourself, looking in the mirror as you wonder how you’ll pull this off. you know damn well you wanna see her.

you walk out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around you as you go to check your closet for outfits.

you grab your phone, calling your best friend to find opinions on what to wear.

“heyyyy girl are you in a good mood now?” she grinned over the phone.

“ok so not funny, also can you help me with what im gonna wear?”

“of course i’m literally like a fashion designer.”

“ok so, maybe not that but whatever helps you sleep at night!” you giggled.

“ok anyway, try on the outfits bitch i wanna see them.” she squealed.

“okok, give me a second.”

you proceed to look through your closet, finding a orange, short dress.

“is this cute?” you ask your friend, showing it to your friend over the phone.

“omg yes!! try it on now.”

you let out a laugh, taking your towel off to try on the dress.

you step into it, pulling it up as you fondle with the straps.

“okay, how do i look?” you smiled.

“so. fucking. good.” she complimented.

“okay don’t make my ego high, but wanna see the other dress?” you giggle.

“yes!! please.”

“okay girl okay” you replied.

you find another dress, purple, short, tight, & lacy.

again, you mimic your actions earlier and show it to your friend over the phone.

“ok, how’s this?”

“GORGEOUS. try it on. now.”

“okay creep.” you insulted.

you try on the dress, not really liking it. but of course, you let your friend put her 2 cents in on it.

“i don’t really like it but what do you-”

“yes. wear that. NOW. wear. it.” she nagged.

“holy shit, okay. but are you sure it looks good?”

“i said wear the damn dress!”

────────────────────────

you sit down to do your makeup, going for a sleek, not too much look.

“i know you wanna see paige tonight.” says your friend over the phone.

you grab your concealer out of your makeup bag, rolling your eyes at her idiotic but true statement.

“and if i did? who would it hurt?” you asked groggily as you pat the concealer on your under-eye.

“well, not saying it’d hurt me, but might hurt you. but what do i know, you know?” she says sarcastically.

“okay lilly.” you sass, adding your final touches to your makeup with powder and mascara.

“should i wear pearls or diamonds?”

“diamonds.”

“gold or silver?”

“silver duh.”

“kk thanks pookie, im gonna go though, text me when you’re ready! bye honey.” you hang up.

after you hang up the phone, you grab your curling iron to add extras touches to your hair. you wanna look perfect tonight.

after you’re all finished getting ready, you grab your keys and head out.

you get in your car and get a notification from your phone.

“Paige💕 just added a new post to their story!”

ironic.

it’s a picture of her and brittany, her fashion designer or whatever.

you roll your eyes, turning on your car. as you pull out, you get ready for whatever’s in store tonight.

────────────────────────

you pull into the parking lot of the bar, noticing a familiar car. it’s her car.

you walk in and the first thing you notice is your best friend, lilly.

she runs over to you, giddy and grinning.

“oh my gosh you made it finally! i was like so bored and also i seen paige and she looked at me weird like bitch-” she rambled, under the influence.

“lilly, calm down. where is she?” you ask, grinning.

“she’s over there i think, she was talking to some girl. it wasn’t her cousin,” she air quoted, “some other girl. i don’t know her though.. but how are you pookie,” she giggled.

“some other girl,” you ask, genuinely confused.

“girl enough about her! can we grab some drinks please??” she pouts.

“i guess lillian,” you laugh.

“yay!” she cheered as she grabbed you by your arm to get drinks.

you walk with her to the bar, asking the bartender for a dirty shirley. paige’s favorite.

she technically put you on, they’re so good.

“thank you,” you gesture to the bartender after receiving your drink.

“so you gonna talk to paige?” lilly asks, slurring every word.

“i won’t talk to her unless she talks to me,” you roll your eyes.

“well, speak of the devil she’s walking over here!” she bursts.

you turn your head, seeing paige walking over.

“ok im going to find a boyfriend or something ill leave you two to whatever this is bye!” she squealed.

as your friend leaves, paige approaches.

“hey.. how you been? you look.. hella different,” paige tells you, looking you up and down.

“is that a compliment?” you roll your eyes.

“yeah, you look good as fuck.” she licks her lips, her eyes locked on your figure in your dress.

“why are you over here again?” you sassed.

“i just wanted to know wassup with you. i miss you man, i know i fucked up.” she looked down, ashamed.

“so why’d you do it?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“listen, it was a mistake. ion know if you’d be able to forgive me but im dead serious, i- i didn’t mean it. i was speaking out of anger.” she stuttered.

she seems so genuine, there’s no way you won’t be able to forgive her.

“we all make mistakes. i just don’t understand why you’d do me like that, seriously. after everything? really?” you asked, perplexed.

“i know, i know. but im for real, you the only girl i want. do you know how many times i’ve thought about you today? yesterday? last week? i can’t get you off my mind.” she expressed.

“i met a girl about a week ago,” you admitted, “nothing like you. they’ll never be like you paige, no matter who i meet.” you let out a breathy laugh, knowing there’s 100% truth to your words.

paige grabs you up from your seat, pulling you by your waist to her chest.

“everything’s okay, im here now. and if it’s okay with you, i wanna be here tomorrow to. i wanna be here everyday, with you and only you.” she promised.

you wanna kiss her, but with the fame she has itll be on tiktok in 30 minutes.

shes thinking exactly what you’re thinking, and with the thoughts you two are sharing, she pulls you toward the bathroom.

just like when you two first met.

when she pulls you into the bathroom, she locks the door behind you two.

you bite back a moan as she pushes you against the wall, sucking on the soft spot of your neck.

“i missed this. fuck, i missed you.” she spoke hungrily against your neck, her voice raspy.

“fuck, paige i missed you too. so much,” you breathed, needy for her touch.

“you want me to fuck you in this bathroom?” she huffed as she pulled up the hem of your dress.

“fuck. of course i do,” you gasped. the sudden gesture catching you off guard.

“mm, i know you do.” she groans as she sinks to her knees, pulling down your panties.

she looks up at you before placing her tongue flat against your clit.

no warning, just getting straight into it.

you throw your head back into the wall, the ecstasy of her tongue arousing you.

“oh fuck paige, just like that, shit,” you whimpered loudly, raking through her hair as she works her magic below you.

your hips buck against her face, her tongue swirling around your clit. you’re starting to get dizzy from all the overstimulation.

she sucks on your clit, lapping her tongue in your folds.

her tongue flicks against your clitoris, making your breath hitch.

she grabs your calves, holding your legs in place while she eats you out driving you senseless.

“stay still,” she whispered against your pussy, the vibration driving you insane.

she dips her tongue inside you, gripping your thighs desperately.

“fuck, paige i’m trying-” she slides her tongue up your pussy, leaving a line of spit as she inserts two fingers inside you, cutting you off.

“holy shit, i’m gonna cum,” you grunted.

“do it, right here,” she rasped out, sucking on your clit eagerly.

she speeds up the motion of her fingers inside you, curling them as she hits the exact spot to make you cum.

she continues to lap at your pussy, sucking on your clit constantly.

“shit baby, you taste so good,” she moans against you.

as you clench against her fingers, she removes them.

she continues to pleasure you with her tongue, making up for the loss of her fingers.

“paige, fuck! i’m gonna cum,” you cried out, your knees going limp.

you finally reach your climax, your body coated in a thin sheen of sweat. the time slows down for you, your pulse beating faster and faster as your vision goes static.

paige looks dead in your eyes, pulling herself back up.

“i don’t wanna lose you again, i love you,” she whispers against your neck, pushing your hair behind your left ear.

“paige,” you breathe, your chest heaving. “i don’t wanna lose you again either. i love you,” you profess.

“good,” she kisses you, cupping your cheeks as you taste yourself in her mouth.

after the intense sex and encounter, you try to freshen yourself up by fixing your dress & hair.

“stop, you look perfect,” she calmed you.

“we can go back out now? how long have we been in here?” you giggle.

“it’s alright baby, i got it.”

as you two walk out, you realized the party kinda died down.

paige looks down at you, smirk apparent on her face.

“you tryna go home so i can show you something?” she grins.

“that’s a crazy question, duh.”

a/n: i finally finished this holy crap. anyway hope you guys enjoyed i can’t write long smut so this is all you get until i learn how to properly write it 😞 ok bye thanks for waiting bc my asks are horrid and you guys rushed me to finish this :-| also not proof read i don’t feel like it ahahah…………

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #paige x reader #angst #paige bueckers angst

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venusindelusion · 29 days ago

Text

Giving In (to the Love): Townie

1st chapter

SUMMARY: If you thought you had terrible luck before, tonight will definitely prove that your life is jinxed when a misunderstanding with a pink haired girl makes your college life a little more difficult. WC: 1.3K PAIRING: Vi (Arcane) x Fem!Reader WARNINGS/TAGS: MDNI, mentions of alcohol, drugs (weed), underage drinking, miscommunication, and obviously cursing. A/N: I'm currently obsessed with Vi and I need more slow burn fics of her so this is totally self indulgent. Also, english isn't my first language so apologies if there is (surely) any mistakes, please enjoy :) more notes at the end btw Next chapter

The loud music throbbed through the walls, echoing in your head as you were waiting outside the bathroom door. It felt like you've been standing there for ages, waiting for whoever was inside to finally let you have the chance to go to the bathroom. You knock on the door again, awaiting an answer, but all you can hear is the sound of that damn music, so you decide to go downstairs again.

Putting a feet in front of the other feels painfully unnatural, all you want to do is lay down and puke somewhere, but you couldn't find any spot that wasn't crowded and you certainly don't want your classmates seeing you in that state. It would be so embarrassing if someone took a picture of you vomiting the noodles you had for dinner because you were so lazy to cook a proper meal before drinking. Now you regret it.

Once you reach the final step of the stairs, you look for your phone in one of your pockets. It's a good thing you decided to wear cargo pants instead of a dress; otherwise, in your state, you would have lost your purse with your phone and little money with it.

"Why are the letters so tiny?" you tried to text your friend, she brought you here and she should be the one to save you now, "She'll understand," you think as the only word you're able to type and text her is "Out".

Looking around you see some people dancing, couples sticking their bodies together and things getting heated. You can feel your legs trembling a bit, unable to hold your weight much longer, your head spinning and the music painfully penetrating your ears. Your friend is nowhere to be seen and you're getting nautious again, so you decide to walk to the kitchen and get some water.

"Fuck, where is it?" you wander around in this unfamiliar house for what felt like forever until you catch a glance at someone coming out from a room with bottles in her hands. You don't recognize her from class, you would've noticed her peculiar blue hair and long braids, and how she looks a bit younger than you or your classmates. She looks back at you with her eyes wide open like a deer in headlights, then laughs and continues her way to what you presume is the backyard. You figure that if she got alcohol bottles from there, there must be water as well.

"Bingo!" you scream a little louder than you'd like once you cross the door and see the kitchen, walking to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. You feel your phone vibrating inside your pocket, you take it out and read your friend's "Coming." reply while taking a sip of that sweet and very much needed liquid.

"Fuck!" you spit the remainings of it, feeling your throat burning and your stomach growling even more than before. Who puts vodka inside a water bottle?

You lay against the kitchen counter for a bit in a lame attempt to stay focused, you just have to stay put and wait for your friend to come find you from wherever she was in this damn house.

Determined to not pass out, you go outside following the blue haired girl's trail to get some fresh air. You feel like your head is going to explode, you've been taking for granted your ability to walk without stumbling into things. Your eyes feel heavy, blinking slower everytime as you work your way outside and coordinate your brain and hand to open the door.

It's way less crowded than you thought, only a few people smoking and chatting, you see a couple making out against the wall like no one can see them. But you can. And it's disgusting.

The air is a bit refreshing, definitely better than the smells of heated bodies, booze and weed that filled the house inside. Not that it makes you any less wasted, but it's something. You go around the house trying to find a spot where no one can see you once your stomach decides it can't take it anymore and you see the blue haired girl from before laying down with her eyes closed and empty bottles surrounding her. She's passed out. Walking as quickly as you can to her, you shake her body and try to wake her up. She does nothing besides groaning and mumbling nonsense, so you start to panic and look around you, begging internally that you can find anyone who's more sober than you to help this girl. Your stomach keeps growling at you and your throat burns, tightens, threatening to throw out all the damn booze you drank before. God, what were you thinking?

The world spins around you as you try to focus your vision on this girl and you were right, she is definitely much younger than you, no alcohol should have been near her at first. You reach for her hand, trying to free the bottle from its hold so you can try and sit her up, worried that she'd throw up and drown in her own puke. It takes all your drunk strength to push the bottles around and move her body. While you're grabbing one of the bottles to throw it away, you hear heavy steps coming closer to you and thank the heavens for hearing your pleading; it must be the help you needed.

You turn around and see a muscular figure, heavy boots stomping on the ground with fierce and her pink hair fluorescent in the lights; she looks back at you with a scowl, her hands in fists and quickens her pace. You gulp.

The air around you gets thicker, heavier, hotter; it's like she's inhaling every atom of oxygen while you shrink down to shrump size, getting closer to you as your head is spinning, trying to focus your vision and stand up.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" she asks, her face so close to yours that the air exhaled feels like a shot straight into your face.

You only manage to mumble something incoherent and she pulls you aside, making you stumble over your own feet as she is starring at the bottles.

"She's wasted…" you hear her whispering to herself, scrunching over to caress the younger girl's face and removing the lose hairs from it, "you gave her fucking booze?" she turns around and stares at you, her gaze filled with rage and frustration, you can feel it burning your eyelids.

"No, I—” your brain is betraying you, you put your hands against the wall trying to remain on your feet and explain the situation, but your throat is threatening to let it all out for good.

She clicks her tongue and lifts the young girl from the ground, holding her like she weights nothing on her arms and takes off, leaving you feeling miserable and confused.

You hear a voice calling your name and fast steps approaching, you turn your head and see your friend. Relief washes over your body, your legs no longer able to hold you standing and you give in so you sit on the grass.

"Cait…" were the only words coming out of your mouth in a whisper before you throw out and felt your eyelids closing themselves.

A/N: comments and reviews are appreciated! if you want more let me know :) i have a long series in mind for this

#fanfic #fic #au #college au #arcane #arcane vi #vi arcane #arcane series #arcane league of legends #vi x reader #reader x vi #reader insert #18+ mdni #mdni #vi x fem!reader #fem!reader #venuswrites

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megamindsecretlair · 1 year ago

Text

You Understand Me Now

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Bratty!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), size kink, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink. Toxic smut. Mention of jail, drug use, and drinking. Angst if you squint. Established relationship.

Summary: While Franklin feels mounting pressure from setting up new business, he has to track you down and set you right.

Word Count: 3,673k

A/N: Hello brainrot, my old friend. Who needs sleep when there's smut to be had? I had TOO much fun writing this. It was written in a daze so all mistakes are mine. I just need some act right from Franklin!!! Enjoy if you do too! Thank you for so much love on my Franklin fics! I love yall. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings

You were shaking your ass like there was no tomorrow. The music was thumping through the floors like a live beast. You felt it in your chest. Alcohol was coursing through your system. It gave everything a hazy, bright glow. It was too loud to think and yet all roads lead to Franklin Saint.

You had been cooped up in an empty house by yourself. What use was all the shit Franklin brought in if he wasn’t there to enjoy it with you? He would leave early in the morning and not return until long after you’d gone to sleep. Your initial reaction was that he was cheating, but you knew that wasn’t the case.

You’d see Franklin dead before he cheated on you. And he’d see hell freeze over before the thought crossed his mind. You knew he loved you. He wasn’t the greatest at showing it and dammit, it hurt.

Did that mean that you had to suffer? No. No, it did not. You called up your girl and went to her place to get dressed. The hardest part about dating Franklin was all the secrets. All the lies. They sometimes got twisted in the careful web you weaved. Over time, it became easier to not leave the house at all.

Franklin was turning you into a hermit and you wanted to hate him for it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a cell in your body that could hate that man. So you took your anger out on him in other ways. It was an insidious need gnawing in the back of your mind.

Sometimes he’d walk in with that tired grin. Too tired to give you a proper hug and a kiss. Like you weren’t worth the effort it took to check in and ask about your day. You knew that he was in the middle of important business dealings. But lately, you were feeling neglected.

Not today.

At your girl’s house, she told you she missed you and your wild days at wild parties, living it up, gone off of the weed, and having real fun. She reminded you that you were still young and you were one of the lucky ones. You didn’t have a baby to look after.

“You mu’fuckin’ right,” you said. You nodded your head, the idea taking shape the longer you sat with it. Thirty minutes later, you were both dressed like you didn’t have a man. You wore a very short skirt and off the shoulder top. Your coarse hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Your makeup was flawless.

It was practically gone now. Still you danced. Still you partied like there was no tomorrow. You left your pager at home. You didn’t care what Franklin had to say. So you shook and danced and waved off try-too-hard niggas with grabby hands.

You clasped your friend’s hand and pulled her away from yet another man in your business. Damn, couldn’t you just go out and dance? Let loose?

“I see you havin’ real fun,” you heard above you.

You gasped and straightened out. You hadn’t seen him. Felt him. Or heard as he approached. One minute, your eyes were closed dancing to Flashlight. The next minute, Franklin was staring down at you with his nose slightly flared.

“How’d you find me?” You asked.

You looked around him and noticed Leon standing by the door looking sullen. “I can get to you any time I want,” he said.

You folded your arms. The night’s festivities were catching up with you. Sweat pasted your shirt to your body. Little frizzes of hair escaped your ponytail. Your feet ached from spending hours on the makeshift dance floor. You were out of breath, staring at Franklin and wondering where his state of mind was at.

“I’m here trying to handle bidness and this is how you act?”

You sucked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “The hell was I supposed to do?” You had to yell to be heard over the funk music. “Sit at home and wait for yo Black ass to come around?”

Franklin rolled his neck. He was stressed out. You took a step forward. You longed to wrap your arms around him to hug and kiss him. To make it all better. But fuck that. Your anger was a familiar coat you threw on.

“Let’s go,” he said. He dismissed your comments altogether. He turned and you faced the wide expanse of his broad back. His black polo shirt highlighted the slope of his shoulders, his sexy walk. The length of his legs were their own turn on.

You didn’t follow him. He moved behind a dancing couple. He half turned and inclined his head. You turned around yourself. Two can play that game. You headed towards the back of the party.

You were gaining attention. Those who weren’t smoking weed, were looking at you over the tops of cups. Others were smokin’ that stupid ass crack pipe. Franklin grabbed your hand and stopped you in your tracks.

“Don’t fuckin’ embarass me. Let’s go,” he said, his whispered baritone fanning across your ear. You took a deep breath to steady yourself. Your body always reacted to him. Right now, your clit was throbbing thinking of what he was planning on doing to you. He hadn’t touched you in a week and it was driving you insane.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Franklin,” you said.

Franklin stopped looking around and fixed you with a glare so severe, it’d hurt less if he slapped you. “The fuck you just say to me?”

“You can’t tell me what to fuckin’ do, Franklin.” You emphasized his name, drawing out the syllables.

“Man, get yo ass in the car,” he said.

“Fuck you, nigga!” The rage that you cloaked yourself in was comforting in its heat. Spurned on by the alcohol, you poked at his chest. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” You slapped at his chest.

“I’m only going to say this one more time, get in the fuckin’ car,” he said. He leaned in close to you, that calm demeanor slipping back behind his eyes. He kissed you on the cheek. A quick, dispassionate kiss that only served to piss you off even more.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Franklin gripped your upper arm. He pushed you forward, around dancing people giving you the stink eye, past Leon with a little smirk on his face, and outside. The brutal LA night was cold and unforgiving against your damp skin.

“Get off me, nigga!” You yanked your arm out of his grip. He talked about you embarrassing him. But he was the one who dragged you out of the party like some baby.

Leon snickered. “Damn, you let her talk to you like that?”

Franklin took a deep breath, looking towards the sky. “For one fuckin’ day, can any of ya’ll act right? I’m sick of this shit.”

“I know you ain’t talkin’, Leon,” you said. Alcohol emboldened you. You felt invincible. Like you could hang onto a star and fly through the universe. You were ready with a scathing remark.

Franklin stood in front of you, blocking your view of Leon who had squared up, ready to pop off. Franklin’s nose flared, his mouth stuck in a grimace. “Car, now,” he said.

Oh shit. Maybe you went a little too far. “Sure thing, Franklin,” you said with a sweet smile.

You heard Franklin blow out a deep breath. “You got a way to get home?” You heard Franklin ask Leon as you walked away. You folded your arms and trudged the short distance to the curb.

You reached the car, sliding in and putting your head against the headrest. You glared at Franklin as he said goodbye to Leon. Leon was smirking. You bet they were laughing it up at your expense. At your feelings.

It paled in comparison to the lust you felt for Franklin. He walked towards the car. He was so different after he got out of jail. Tougher. Harder. There were moments where you would catch the Franklin you first fell in love with. The optimistic boy you would follow anywhere.

Franklin was a man after jail. He picked up an edginess. A shorter temper. You couldn’t tell him what to do and that made him sexier to you. He was never a weak man. But now, he was strength personified.

He climbed into the car in silence. He turned the car on and peeled out of the projects. “Not gon’ say shit?” You asked.

Franklin didn’t look at you. He kept his eyes on the road, obeying all of the traffic lights. There was no reason to give LAPD an excuse to pull you over. Not that they always needed one. Driving while Black was practically an invitation to the cops to fuck with you.

Franklin turned into his garage. You watched and listened as he closed the garage door behind you. He turned the car off and hopped out of the car. He came around to your side and opened the door.

You hated the silent treatment. It was like he had ice water in his veins. You got out of the car and stood in the open door. Arms folded. Staring across a chasm at Franklin that you couldn’t cross. Couldn’t access. You weren’t welcome.

“Sick of this shit,” you muttered.

“Get yo ass in the room and I’ll deal with you in a minute,” he said.

“No, fuck you,” you said.

That vindictive streak in you wanted to push him. To push him past the point of breaking him.

“I don’t need this fuckin’ shit! I got enough shit to deal with than hearin’ my girl shakin’ her ass for anyone to see!” His voice rose from a deadly calm to outright yelling.

“I was just dancin’,” you said with a shrug.

“Yo ass don’t listen too good, huh?” Franklin grinned cruelly and laughed. He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside the house. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, as if he’d searched every room for you.

You didn’t have a chance to appreciate the sentiment as he tugged you through the house, towards your room. He pushed you onto the bed and watched you flop.

You pushed up onto your elbows but Franklin grabbed your hips and yanked your body down the bed to the edge. Your ass hung off of it. He used his leg to push yours further apart.

“Franklin?” You asked. Your voice wobbled but not with fear. You were so turned on, you didn’t trust your voice.

A sharp slap rung throughout the room. You cried out and clutched at the bed spread. Heat blossomed on your nearly exposed ass. One sharp jerk later, and it was over your hips, pushed up.

“This what you wanted right? Why yo ass was actin’ up?” He asked.

He rubbed the area that he slapped and you hissed. You were at an awkward angle. Half hanging off of the bed like you were, your heels were the only thing sort of keeping you upright. You stood on your tiptoes to brace yourself. Franklin standing in between your legs threw your balance off slightly.

Franklin ran his hands down the crack of your ass, down towards your pussy. He moved your skimpy panties aside and pressed his thumb into your entrance. You cooed and collapsed onto the bed.

“This pussy right there? Mine,” he said. He slapped your ass with his free hand and you gasped. The dichotomy of him slipping his fingers inside of you and the heat of the slap was too much already.

“Baby…”

“Naw, don’t baby me. It was Franklin earlier, wasn’t it?” He asked. He removed his thumb and quickly replaced it with his index finger. He grunted and pushed a second finger in.

“Oh, baby,” you moaned. He widened his fingers, preparing you for him.

“What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” He asked. He leaned over over, driving his fingers in deeper. You moaned and clutched the bedspread past the point of your fingers cramping.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You moved your ass in a circle, in tune with how Franklin pumped his fingers in and out of you. As long as he kept doing that, you’d give him any answer he was looking for.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered against your ear. He leaned back and added a third finger.

“Oh, fuck!” You moaned. Your body jerked and twitched as if you ate a live wire. Your orgasm ripped through you. Each wave hit you harder and faster, dragging you under its sweet release.

Franklin withdrew his fingers and you heard him licking each one. You huffed. This man was going to be the death of you.

Franklin massaged your ass, bringing attention back to the lingering pain. “I just missed you, baby,” you said.

“Mhmm,” he said. He took a few deep breaths. His hands grabbed a handful of your ass. He made quick work of his pants, shedding it in nearly one fell swoop. He rubbed his thick, hardening dick along your slick slit.

You bit your lip and moaned. “Pleasepleaseplease,” you said and wiggled your ass against him.

He grabbed your left wrist and pulled it behind your back. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. You twisted your wrist but Franklin didn’t give you much room. He learned forward, his polo shirt rustling against your shirt.

He brought his lips down to your ear. He licked the shell of it. Placed kisses behind your ear, into that sensitive spot. You shivered. Your desperate pussy clenched around nothing. He wrapped your hair around his fingers and pulled your head to the side for better access.

You ached. You were so empty, you could cry. Literally, tears gathered behind your closed eyelids. You needed to be filled up by him. Consumed by him. You wanted to end where he began and begin where he ended.

“The next time you need some dick, you come fuckin’ find me,” he said. He pushed into you slowly, stopping every so often so that you could get acclimated to him.

“Oh, yes, Daddy,” you whined as he fulfilled your silent request. “Pleaseplease,” you muttered over and over.

“Do you know my heart stopped comin’ here, callin’ for you like a mu’fuckin’ idiot? I called your pager. Shit was beepin’ by our bed. Anythin’ could’ve happened to you!”

He seemed to forget his plan because he started to increase his thrusts. Whatever he gave, you took. You bounced back on him, matching his rhythm. He fucked you into the bed, pushing down on your arm behind your back.

You were shoved ever more onto your tiptoes. Your right hand searched for purchase on the bed. Anything to brace you against his savage thrusts. It felt like he was pouring all of his frustration out into you. You gripped the bed spread and chewed on a piece of it.

There was a low, delicious burn inching up your legs. You shook violently, crying out as he hit that spot that only he could reach. Only he could touch. Only him.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you choked out. He pushed the very air from your lungs. Each thrust knocked a little more loose. You panted against him.

“Oh fuck, right there,” you whined. Your ass clapped against his hips and the wet slap surprised another orgasm out of you. You stuttered over his name as you came, your pussy contracting and flooding his dick.

“Look at you, can’t even hold on to that fucked up attitude,” he said. He licked your neck and nibbled at a sensitive bit. You shuddered and tried to curl in on yourself.

“Naw,” he breathed.

He slipped out of you and you cried in earnest. Tears slid down your cheeks. You groaned. Words weren’t working right for you.

Franklin manhandled you. He flipped you onto your back and pulled you by your arms. You sat up and flopped against his body. He gripped your chin and made you look at him.

“Talk a big game, no follow through, huh?” He asked. Bastard. But you got what you wanted.

“I’ll do better, Daddy,” you said. You gave him puppy dog eyes.

Franklin grinned and pecked your lips. “I know you will,” he whispered.

He tugged your shirt off, revealing your bra. Franklin sucked your nipple through the lacy material and you bucked off of the bed. “Shit!”

The sensation was both there and wasn’t there. You registered a barrier between his mouth and your nipple but you didn’t really feel it.

Franklin thrusted into you, hard. You gasped, your mouth hanging open. He climbed onto the bed, getting into a better position. He tore off his polo shirt and tossed it onto the floor.

He laid over you, crushing your body to the bed. He used one hand to spread you completely open for him. The other hand, grabbed your right hand and held it above you. Your fingers intertwined with his. He ground his hips into you, his dick disappearing inside of you.

His strokes were deep, brutal, and punishing. He wasn’t done being pissed at you. The thought should scare you. It should drive you right out of his bed. But no one else fucked you so completely. Made you feel so wanted and adored and like he needed to fuck you like a person needed air.

Every stroke hit that deep spot inside of you. Your knees closed around his hips. Your left hand scratched his back.

“That attitude shit stops,” he said as he made out with your titties. He pulled your cups down until they were under your breasts, pushing them up and into his eager mouth.

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned.

You felt the muscles in his back working as he pushed in and out of you. His dick stretched you right to the edge of pain. That fine line was delicate and he walked it well. Your hand traveled the length of his back, feeling all of the additional muscles and the dip of his back. The top of his ass that you couldn’t reach.

You closed your eyes as he rolled a nipple around his mouth.

“The last thing I need to fuckin’ worry about is you,” he said.

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry,” your breath was failing you. Hell, you didn’t even know what he was saying at this point. You’d agree to just about anything at the moment. As long as he kept his strokes nice and deep like that.

You felt him in your chest. He pushed up and you couldn’t barely breathe. He was stuffing you full of him, feeding you his dick.

“You think this shit is cute and it ain’t! How the fuck it look that I can’t control my girl?”

You contracted against him. Another orgasm was building. His voice was so deep and raspy. And when he yelled, it was like unlocking a switch inside of you. You began to twitch again. Tears streamed down your face.

“I’m sorry! I hate being here without you,” you managed to croak out.

Fuck, you were so damn close. “Please Daddy, I’m so sorry. I’ll do better,” you said.

Franklin lifted his head from your titty. He stared into your eyes.

“Don’t you fuckin’ know how much I love you? Why do I have to prove it to you?” He asked, softly. So at odds with his pounding dick.

“You don’t!” You yelled. Your orgasm was just out of reach. So, so, sososososo close.

“Then why you like makin’ me mad?” He asked, his voice raised. Your jaw went slack as the orgasm finally tore through you like a tidal wave. You flopped and twitched, unable to hear or see anything as stars danced behind your eyelids.

Your convulsing pussy triggered Franklin’s orgasm. He pushed into you further, his cum splashing inside of you. You felt his dick twitch and pulse.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned. “You feel what you do to me?” He asked. He placed his head into the crook of your neck and panted.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you murmured.

“You do that to me,” he said. He kissed your jaw, your cheek. Your lips lazily found his and you kissed him with the last remaining breath in you. You felt light headed. You wanted to curl up like a cat at his feet. He rubbed your arms and kissed you as you floated back to your body.

As he softened, he pulled out of you. His thick cum eased out of you. Franklin rolled over onto his back with a contented sigh. He placed one hand behind his head. You rolled and tucked your body into his. He rubbed your back. You spread your right arm across his chest. A possessiveness taking over you.

He kissed your temple and looked at you. “Don’t you ever call me by my first name again,” he said. He turned to stare at the ceiling. His fingers never gave up their glide and and down your back.

You giggled sleepily. “Keep fuckin’ me like that and I won’t have to,” you said.

Franklin grabbed your right hand and brought it to his lips. “I gotta fuck you to keep you in line, is that it?” He asked.

“Somethin’ like that,” you said with a small giggle.

You were dragged kicking and screaming to sleep. You wanted to stay up and talk to him. Anything to keep hearing that sexy voice. Anything to keep him here with you longer. You were beyond worried that the moment you opened your eyes, he’d be gone again. Like a puff of smoke you couldn’t hold on to. He’d just slip through your fingers.

You were so blessedly fucked out, that your head emptied. You fell asleep to the thump of his heart. And you prayed. Prayed that he’d be there when you woke up.

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