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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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Outrunning Fate

As promised (though I am more than a little late for Shiratorizawa Week), the soulmate AU

Tendou x female reader x Ushijima

TW stalking, possessive behaviour, implied non-con

Soulmates were supposed to be a blessing.

It was a fairytale that you’d grown up hearing about. One person who was supposed to be wholly yours.

Your parents were soulmates, even if you hadn’t always understood the concept, the proof of that remarkable, unshakable bond was always right in front of you. It wasn’t in the big grand gestures, it was little things - the soft, adoring look in your father’s eye as your mother passed him his coffee every morning, the way she always sought out his touch when they were together, even if it was just to twine her fingers with his, or the way that they always seemed to be able to sense when the other was upset, and wordlessly found the perfect way to comfort them.

Your father never had to tell you that he loved your mother, but he did, every single day. He told her too, just to see her smile.

It seemed effortless, easy, as if their love for one another was as natural as breathing. How could you be blamed for looking at your bare wrist, waiting for the day that name would appear in scrawling black ink, feeling that excited fluttering in your chest because you knew one day you’d meet your soulmate and have that perfect, fairytale love all for yourself.

Except it wasn’t like that.

Something went wrong.

***

You’re fifteen and barely paying attention in class when your skin prickles uncomfortably. Your heart leaps into your chest as you tug up the sleeve off your blazer, watching wide eyed with bated breath as a name appears on your wrist.

Tendou Satori.

The beginnings of a smile start to curl at your lips, but it freezes in place as more inky black writing appears below the first.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

A second name.

And suddenly, it feels like your perfectly crafted world begins to fall apart. Two soulmates aren’t unheard of, but they’re incredibly rare and you can’t deny that there’s a certain… stigma attached to it.

What kind of a person isn’t satisfied with just one?

This is supposed to be some magical, thrilling moment for you, but instead all you can focus on is the pounding of your heart and the growing wave of nausea that rises in the back of your throat. Quickly you yank your sleeve back down and before you can even think to stutter an apology to your bewildered teacher, you’re out of your seat and sprinting down the hallway to the bathroom. You barely make it before hurling up your guts.

After that, you start wearing long sleeves wherever you go.

It’s not that you’re ashamed, you tell yourself as you bite your lip and try your utmost to fade into the background whenever the topic comes up in conversation, it’s just that… other people aren’t always so accepting.

You’ve tried to get used to the disgusted looks, the invasive questions and the insults that follow you wherever you go, but it’s easier said than done. You hate that your cheeks still burn scarlet whenever you catch someone staring at your marks, almost as much as you hate the way you quickly duck your head in shame and race to fix your sleeve.

‘It’s okay, honey. I know it’s not what you expected but… it just means there’s one more person out there waiting to love you with everything they have. You’re twice as lucky as the rest of us,’ your father had told you on that horrible day. You just wished it hadn’t sounded like he was trying to convince himself at the same time.

***

You’re seventeen and the first boy who kisses you tries to shove your hand down his pants because he knows you’ve got two names on your wrist, and that means you’re up for anything, right?

You run home with tears streaming down your face and when you shower that night you scrub at the marks like you’re trying to erase them entirely.

What did having two names mean really? That one wasn’t enough? Would they be content sharing you? Would they even know of the other’s existence?

You could only imagine how horrifying it would be for them, spending months, years waiting for you only to realise that they didn’t really have all of you…

Would they hate you? Could you even blame them if they did?

Sometimes… sometimes you think it might be better if you didn’t have a soulmate at all, instead of this. It’s easier just to ignore it, pretend they don’t exist, pretend that you’re not gonna ruin their lives. Who knows, maybe you’ll be one of those few who never actually meet their soulmates. You can live with that, you think. You have a family who love you, a bunch of close friends who’d die for you - who needs stupid soulmates?

***

It’s the morning after your 18th birthday, your head is still pounding from the alcohol and bad decisions from the night before when your curiosity finally gets the better of you. It’s the modern age, most people live their lives online, you figure you’ll find a facebook page, a twitter account maybe.

Instead, the first item that comes up in your search is a video. It’s a news segment about a volleyball game - some high school team that you’ve never heard of, but you listen to the commentator talk and your heart leaps into your throat because they mention the Ace by name and suddenly there he is. Tall, dark haired and imposing - Ushijima Wakatoshi.

But you don’t even have a moment to breathe, to focus on the absolute beast that is your second soulmate and his terrifying spike because the camera shifts and suddenly there’s another player in focus. Tall, gangly with bright, spiky red hair and a too-wide grin, “-not the only player in the spotlight after today’s match; Shiratorizawa’s middle blocker, the so called ‘Guess Monster’ Tendou Satori-”

You close the browser window and slam your laptop shut.

They’re… friends, or teammates at the very least.

It feels like a bad dream you can’t wake up from. This whole thing is already messy enough, but you can’t get in the middle of that, you refuse to make everything worse for them just because the fates have decided to play a cruel joke on you.

If there were any lingering doubt left in your mind that you’re better off burying your soulmates, they’re well and truly put to bed.

That night, you dream of a cheering crowd, the thwack of a volleyball ricocheting off a vinyl floor and two menacing figures looming over you.

With your final exams around the corner, it’s almost too easy to put the video and your soulmates out of your mind as you throw yourself into studying. Months pass in the blink of an eye and suddenly you’re dressed in black robes and holding your high school diploma. You celebrate with your friends, dancing wildly with a care-free grin long into the night because you know you’re finally getting out of there for good. Tokyo’s a big city, you’ll lose yourself there and nobody, not a single damned soul, will know about the two names that grace your wrist. It’s as close to freedom as you’re ever gonna get - and god that makes you so fucking happy.

Your bags are packed and you’re holding your parents as they sob and then, like that, you’re gone.

Tokyo awaits.

***

It’s not that easy to outrun fate.

Living in Tokyo ain’t cheap, even for the shitty little shoebox apartment you rent while you’re studying. You manage to find a job at one of the Americanised diner style cafes just down the road from where you live two weeks after moving in. It’s popular with students because it’s open till late, the coffee’s good and the waffles are exactly what the doctor ordered after a long night of drinking with your friends. You’re just happy because the pay’s pretty decent and your boss lets you bring in your laptop and textbooks so you can study when it’s not too busy. You’re not nearly as thrilled about the short, revealing blue dress that serves as your uniform, but you know when to pick your battles.

It’s a little after one o’clock on a slow Tuesday night, the cafe’s almost empty and you’re propped up on your elbows along the countertop, absentmindedly thumbing through one of your assigned readings for class tomorrow when you hear the tell-tale chime of the door opening.

You hastily shove your books aside, plastering a wide if not a little artificial smile across your face, you glance up to greet the customers, only to freeze in place.

Your heart skips a beat.

Of all the cafes in the sprawling city, of course your soulmate has to walk into this one.

With his wild, spiked red hair and easy, sloping grin, Tendou’s unmistakable as he strides through the cafe with two other guys you can only assume are his friends. You suppose you should be a little relieved that he barely spares you a glance as the threesome make a beeline for one of the corner booths, but it’s hard to feel anything other than blind panic at the sight of your soulmate only a few feet away. It’s purely out of habit that you reach for your wrist and the skin coloured bandage hiding your traitorous marks, and you allow yourself to breathe the tiniest sigh of relief when you feel it still in place.

A loud cackle bursts through the quiet atmosphere of the cafe and you dart a glance over to see Tendou with his head thrown back laughing at something one of the others has said. There’s an uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach and your cheeks redden just a touch. It’s not an awful sound (not at all), but your pulse is racing and you think you just might be sick because this is all… too much.

You’d left them in the past along with whatever fairytale fantasies you thought having a soulmate would bring. You… you’re happy being alone and coping just fine without either one of them! They were a dream - a distant possibility you’d long since locked away, you weren’t supposed to ever actually see them!

At least it’s only Tendou, you think you might actually combust if they were both here. Still, there’s a faint tremor in your hand as you brush a lock of hair out of your face and try to regain control of your breathing.

As much as you’d like to run, or preferably, have the earth suddenly open up and swallow you whole, you know you can’t. For one, you’re the only server left until close and your boss might be easy going but somehow you doubt he’d let you keep your job after a stunt like that. More importantly, you have a sinking suspicion that causing a fuss will only draw his attention and that’s the last thing you want. He doesn’t know who you are, your mark is safely tucked away under your bandages, this will be fine.

It’s an hour and a half until close, he and his friends will get some food, eat, drink and chat amongst themselves and then you can kick them out and it’ll all be over. You barely have to interact with him. For all he knows you’re just a server in a random cafe - this will be fine.

Robotically you force your legs to move, carrying you towards your oblivious soulmate. You’re pretty sure that your smile’s a little off and you haven’t quite managed to quell the shaking in your hands as you reach for your notepad, flipping it open.

It’s the best you can do, especially when there’s a voice inside your head that’s all but begging for you to turn around and pretend this whole thing never happened.

Tendou appears to be thoroughly engrossed in whatever story he’s telling his friends, waving his arms around wildly when you reach their table. Normally you’d clear your throat politely and wait for them to settle down before introducing yourself and asking for their order, but when you open your mouth - nothing comes out. It’s like your whole throat has suddenly dried up and you’re just standing there gaping like an idiot, but Tendou hasn’t even noticed.

The ashy blonde to his left, however, does. His eyes flicker to you and you swear that you can see the faintest trace of amusement as he takes you in. He smirks, quickly shoving an elbow into the redhead’s side and jerking his chin in your direction.

“Hey loudmouth, pipe down would you?”

Your breath catches as he turns around to look up at you and grins, “Ah, sorry. Didn’t see ya there!”

The other two have picked up their menus again, but for whatever reason just as Tendou’s gaze starts to slide off of you, something catches his attention and stops him in his tracks. Like a magpie spotting something shiny in the distance, those big, droopy red eyes suddenly widen and zero back in with unnerving interest. Frozen with that fake, half hearted smile painted across your lips you feel strangely like a bug caught under a microscope as Tendou studies you - there’s really no other way to describe it. His head tilts to the side and he makes a low noise from the back of his throat that almost sounds pleased.

He can’t know, there’s no possible way, but if he doesn’t then why the hell is he staring at you like that?

It’s all you can do to remain rooted in place, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs that you’re sure they have to be able to hear it too. Whatever he’s searching for he apparently finds because his grin widens and he leans back in his seat and chuckles. “Why’d you look so nervous, we’re not gonna bite - promise!”

The other guy at the table rolls his eyes, “Tendou, don’t scare the pretty waitress, she’s just trying to do her job,” he chastises, offering you an apologetic smile that does little to ease your nerves. “Don’t mind him, he’s an idiot, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

You swallow and hum in faint acknowledgment, and he takes that as a sign to begin his order.

You were hoping that they were just going to get some drinks and be out of your hair, but as he starts listing off various snacks and appetizers to share and the ashy blonde throws out a few more, it looks like your nightmare is only just beginning.

You nod dutifully, writing it all down. The cook is just going to love you for this, but there’s not a whole lot you can do about it. “Anything else?” you ask in a voice that just barely passes for what your boss deems ‘customer service appropriate’, decidedly not looking towards the redhead who is still staring at you.

He hasn’t looked at the menu once since you walked over, actually you doubt he’s looked at the menu at all, but it doesn’t seem to matter because he pipes up regardless, “Yep, one of those thickshakes, you know - the really good strawberry one, annnd-”

“Y/N, order up!!”

Your soul leaves your body at the exact same moment that Tendou’s pupils dilate and snap to your wrist.

The pen in your hand is shaking, your grip so tight that it’s a wonder the flimsy plastic doesn’t shatter as you turn to glance over your shoulder. The cook is leaning out across the overpass, staring at you with a scowl and vaguely you register the hot plate of food in front of him which can’t have been sitting there for more than a minute at the most. You give a weak nod, earning you a dismissive grunt in response, before turning back to the table.

All three of them are staring wide eyed and open mouthed at you.

Fuck.

They know. They have to know.

You should have legged it when you had the chance.

Breathe. Smile. Play dumb. This is fine.

“A-anything el-”

“Somethin’ wrong with your wrist?” Tendou asks slowly, eyeing the bandage like he wants nothing more than to snatch it up and rip it away from you. His fingers flex and you don’t even have time to brace before they’re shooting out towards you-

A hand catches his forearm before he can touch you - it’s his friend, the dark haired one with the crew cut, who’s currently staring down the erratic redhead with a distinct frown.

It’s the blonde who speaks up, “Sorry, he’s had a few drinks tonight. The idiot sometimes forgets his manners in public.”

The music is still playing in the background, somebody laughs at the table a few down from theirs, but in this little pocket, trapped between the three of them with the tension thick enough to slice with a knife, the silence is oppressive.

And then Tendou’s attention shifts back to you and your stomach flips - it’s like the floor has disappeared beneath your feet and you’re suddenly careening through the empty air with no hope in hell of slowing down.

He looks… well, mad is the wrong word. Tendou is technically smiling, but his grin stretched slightly too wide, his eyes a little too intense. There’s an emotion you can’t name etched across his pale features, and it’s unsettling… it scares you a little, if you’re being honest.

You swallow and take a tiny, shaking breath. “I-it’s fine. I tripped last week and sprained it.”

“Clumsy, are you?” he asks, prying himself free of his friend’s grip.

A laugh forces its way out, grating and too sharp to be believable. “Yeah, I guess. Your food won’t be too long, if you need anything else, just- just let me know.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond as you all but flee the table. You’re shaking and almost in tears by the time you reach the kitchen, the cook takes one look at you, a grumpy admonishment on the tip of his tongue, and falters.

They stay until close, and you avoid them like the plague.

Hours later, lying tucked up in your bed your skin still prickles from the thought of Tendou’s piercing stare. Maybe if you’d kept some kind of a level head through it all instead of acting like a flustered school girl, he might have just passed it all off as a coincidence.

But you hadn’t, had you?

It wasn’t just that he knew who you were to him (and to Ushijima) but that after all your blushing and stammering, the pitiful attempts at hiding your soulmate marks and the way you all but ran from him the very first moment you could, he had to know that you knew as well. That despite coming face to face with your soulmate, you lied - you rejected him.

You mom once told you that the first time she laid eyes on her soulmate the world stopped spinning and all she felt was joy. Maybe there’s something wrong with you after all, because despite the insistent tug in your heart, you just feel sick. Despite being exhausted after your long shift, sleep that night doesn’t come easy.

It’s two days later that you find yourself back in the cafe, working a rare day shift on your only week-days off from classes. You keep glancing up at the door every few minutes, half dreading the possibility that any moment, Tendou and his friends are going to walk in, but they don’t.

Ushijima does, a little after the lunch rush dies down.

He looks so out of place against the vibrant backdrop of the 50’s style diner, all serious and stoic, that if he were anybody else you might think he was lost.

But he isn’t lost, because he’s staring right at you.

You don’t notice one of your co-workers sliding up to you until they laugh and playfully nudge your side. “Ah, I see the eye candy is back. Try and pick up your jaw, Y/N,” they tease.

Back?

Instead of finding an empty table to sit himself down at (and give you a minute to mentally prepare) Ushijima is making his way straight over to the counter, unsmiling and huge. How was he even bigger in person?! He could crush you with his thighs alone!

“He’s been here before?” you ask quietly, unable to draw your gaze away from him.

Your co-worker snorts. “Yeah, he came in last night, he even asked for you by name. Seemed kinda disappointed when I told him you weren’t on until today. You holding out on me, Y/N? I thought we were closer than that. You know you’re supposed to tell me when you start dating a hot ass dude!”

They slip away with a wink before you even have a chance to respond and you’re left floundering as Ushijima approaches. Your mouth is dry, your pulse racing. Just like with Tendou, you have no escape, nowhere you can run or hide.

He asked for you by name.

Fuck. You should have quit when you had the chance.

Ushijima isn’t smiling. Where Tendou had been beaming with chaotic energy from the moment he walked in, your second soulmate seems almost stony as he stares at you with serious olive eyes. You honestly can’t tell if he’s frowning or if that’s just the way his face is, but it makes your gut twist regardless.

It might also be the fact that he’s towering over you without even trying to. He has to be at least 6’3” but it’s not just his height that’s imposing - he’s brawny and muscular and, yeah, huge. Briefly you remember the news clip you’d seen of him, the terrifying brute force behind his spike.

He seems to be waiting for you to speak, so you swallow down the lump in your throat and try to remember how to breathe like a normal person. “Hi, can I get you anything?”

Something briefly flickers across his face, but otherwise his expression remains distressingly neutral. “… I would like some tea.”

You nod - it’s like pulling teeth. “Yeah, sure. We uh, we actually have a few different kinds…”

He makes a rough noise of acknowledgement and then… pauses. Instead of the menu, Ushijima studies you. His lips twitch into the faintest hint of a… smile? You can’t quite tell, but it looks out of place regardless. “I will have whichever you recommend.”

You can’t seem to be able to form words, so you settle with nodding, gesturing for him to take a seat while he waits.

His eyes don’t shift from you, nor does he make any attempt to mask the fact that he’s staring right at you. When his tea is ready, you all but beg your co-worker to take it to him.

“Trouble in paradise?” they ask, waggling their eyebrows.

“It’s not like that,” you mutter, but they take the tea regardless, and you busy yourself in wiping down tables and pretending that you can’t see the scowl from the volleyball player burning across the diner.

It really isn’t.

Even after tucking any thought of meeting your soulmates away there was always some tiny part of you - a part you were always so desperate to ignore - that wondered how it would feel to meet them, to be loved by them…

But while your heart squeezes with every glance, it’s not warm, dizzying bliss that floods your system and sends blood rushing to your cheeks. You don’t know what the feeling is that curls in your stomach and claws its way up your spine, but it’s nothing good.

Something went wrong with you, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Ushijima stays for an hour, finishes his tea and makes his way back to the counter to pay.

He's wearing a grey hoodie, running gear underneath, and when he hands you the money, passing it directly into hands, his sleeve rides up. There, plain as day, is his soulmate mark.

Your name, written in black ink on Ushijima's wrist, forever marking you as his.

You jerk, flinching away from him, but he doesn’t make a move to cover it.

“You cannot run from us, Y/N. We are your soulmates, we’re bound together.” His voice is little more than a murmur, but there’s an edge to it, sharp and pointed. Not so much a statement as a fact, as undeniable as your name on his skin, on Tendou’s.

He says it like it’s a promise, staring into your eyes with that impenetrable gaze and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

“Why are you so determined to fight it?”

You swallow, taking the cash from his hand and punching it into the till. “I’m sorry, whoever you think I am…” you trail off, finally raising your eyes to meet his penetrating stare. You’re quietly proud of the way your voice doesn’t shake, even as your heart races like a hummingbird in your chest and your palms sweat. “I’m not.”

The only sign that Ushijima hears you at all is the subtle furrowing of his brow and a distinctly displeased hum from the back of his throat.

“I hope you enjoyed your tea.” The cutting barb slips from your lips before you can stop them, but there’s a certain vindictive satisfaction you get in watching his eyes widen, the brief hurt that flickers across his face.

Of course, it only lasts a fraction of a second before his features school into a blank mask and he nods.

“Perhaps I will try another the next time I see you.”

And with a short bow, he walks away.

You leave your apron behind when you finish your shift at the diner, and you don’t come back.

There will be other jobs.

***

It’s not enough.

They start showing around campus.

The first time you catch sight of Tendou, you’re running between classing, cursing the ridiculous schedule that has you attending two back to back lectures on opposite sides of the campus. It’s just a glance - a flicker of red in the corner of your eye. The only reason you stop at all is because you're so focused on not being late that you fail to see the crack in the path until you’re tripping over it. The books in your hand go flying as you sprawl across the pavement.

“Huh, you really weren’t kidding about being clumsy, were ya?”

A pale hand stretches out before you, and just like with Ushijima, Tendou doesn’t bother hiding the soulmate mark as he grins down at you with those wide, creepy eyes.

You ignore it entirely, waving it away as you pick yourself up with a grunt. The skin on one of your palms is grazed, and you’re pretty sure that your knees are too, but all in all it could be worse. It’s more your pride that smarts, that and the fact that of all people to see you trip, it has to be him.

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby. I’m only try’na help you!”

You scowl, snatching your textbooks out of his offered hands. “I’m not your baby, Tendou,” you mutter.

You regret the words immediately. His grin slowly widens and he makes a sound, somewhere between a shudder and a moan - it’s almost pornogaphic and wholly inappropriate and it sends blood rushing to your cheeks, but you don’t have time to think about it.

“I’m already late, just-” you break off with a sigh, readjusting the strap of your backpack, staring resolutely at the ground. “I’m not what you want, what… what either of you want. Just leave me alone, okay?!”

Tendou doesn’t say a word as you walk away, but just like always you feel the burning stare following you until you’re out of sight.

Somewhat stupidly, you think that’ll be the end of it. The gloves are off - you might not have said it in as many words, but there’s no point denying it any longer. They are your soulmates and it doesn’t change a thing.

There is something wrong with your bond.

But they don’t see it like that.

They figure out your schedule, take it in turns to wait outside your classes, ambushing you whenever you’re alone.

“I have a game tomorrow,” Ushijima tells you on a rainy Thursday afternoon as he follows you home. “I would like for you to come.”

It doesn’t seem to bother him that you walk a few steps ahead (or try to at least - his legs are ridiculously long) with your head bent down, ignoring the steady rainfall that threatens to saturate you. Tendou usually fights for your attention, grabs at your hands, your waist, any part he can reach just to touch you, but Ushiwaka seems content to merely be near - so long as you stray too far.

“I have exams to study for.”

He hums noncommittally, “Tendou will be there.”

All the more reason not to go.

The silence between you two is heavy.

“It would make me… happy, if you came,” he tries again.

Your eyes squeeze shut for just a moment. You hate it when he does this, when he acts like you’re the one being stubborn. Like you haven’t told him, told them both to stop a thousand times before. Like they haven’t ignored it at every turn, blatantly refused to acknowledge that you don’t want them like they want you.

Shouldn’t ‘no’ have been enough?

You’ve considered reporting it to campus security, or even the police, maybe trying to get a restraining order or something like that, but what would you even say - ‘Please Officer, sir, my soulmates are stalking me’? Yeah, that’ll go down a real fucking treat.

“Why…” you trail off with a sigh, forcing yourself to stop walking.

This time he does reach for you, taking your hand in his. It’s warm and rough from years of volleyball and hard work, and you hate that it’s already so familiar. His expression is as stoic as ever, but there’s a quiet reverence in his eyes as he looks at you, as if he can’t quite believe you’re really there with him. You suppose in another light, it might almost look romantic, the two of you holding hands under his umbrella, lost in your own little world as the rain pours down around you.

He seems to be waiting for you to finish your thought, so you buck up whatever dregs of courage you still have and try again, “Why can’t you just… move on? I don’t want this- this thing, whatever it is between us.” You sigh, tugging your hand back, “I just want to be alone, why can’t you respect that?!”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, staring at you, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the back of your palm.

But then he shrugs, easily, as if you’re merely discussing the weather and not their continued overbearing and unwanted presence in your life. “We love you. More than anything, and despite your… reservations, we belong together, what other reason does there need to be?” He pauses, his gaze softening just a fraction, “You’ll come around eventually,” he adds.

A tiny part of you crumples at that. What’s the use in arguing with a brick wall?

***

It’s a minor relief when you walk out of your last lecture for the day the following afternoon. It might be because it’s a Friday and you, for once, have absolutely no plans for the weekend, but realistically it’s more to do with the fact that you know no one is waiting for you outside. Ushijima has his volleyball game, and Tendou will be there with him, cheering from the sidelines.

You should be happier, really, but there’s a pit in your stomach that’s been there since Ushijima left you at your door last night.

They’re not going to stop.

Instead of listening to the professor talk, you’ve spent the last three hours searching university transfers. You love Tokyo University, you love Tokyo - the big, bustling city you’d gladly lose yourself in again and again, but it can’t be your home, not when they’re here too.

There’s a University in Kyoto, it has a similar program to the one you’re already in. It’s a surprisingly easy process to change - your grades are decent enough, all you have to is apply. One simple click of a button. It’ll take a few weeks for it all to go through, which’ll give you enough time to figure out how you’re gonna upend your entire life without them realising - assuming of course that Kyoto university accepts the request.

If you soulmates won’t let you go, you’ll run, and you’ll keep running. Maybe you’re wrong, maybe one day you’ll look back at them and feel that same love for them that you’d seen in your parents instead of that black, cloying unease that twists at your guts, but so long as they don’t give the choice, what options do you have?

You’re not stupid, this… thing that they’re doing, the stalking, monopolising your time, trying to drive your friends away, it’s not the end game. What happens when they get tired of you ignoring them?

“Hey, Y/N wait up!”

For a moment your heart seizes, but it calms almost immediately when you realise the voice isn’t the one you’re afraid of.

You turn to find one of the guys from your last lecture walking over. He’s kinda cute, in a lost puppy kind of way, and he’s nice, for the three conversations you’ve actually had with him. Honestly you’re a little surprised he actually knows your name (considering you’ve definitely forgotten his) but you smile back regardless. “Hey, what’s up?”

“You doing anything tonight?”

Netflix and crashing early, but you’re hardly about to tell him that, “Not much, why?”

He smiles, and for a moment you’re taken aback by just how utterly endearing it is. He really is cute. “Me and a few friends are having a party tonight, you’re uh, you’re welcome to come. Y’know, if you’re not doing anything,” he says with a laugh, throwing in a wink for good measure.

But his smile fades a little as he catches a glimpse of something behind you. You frown at the odd reaction, turning instinctively to see what drew his attention when a weight drapes across your shoulders and you find yourself being pulled into a sideways embrace.

“There you are, baby! I was starting to think you’d gotten lost,” a familiar voice drawls. “Who’s your friend?”

You can’t see Tendou’s expression as he rests his chin on your shoulder, but from the way your classmate blanches you can imagine that it’s not pleasant. Still you have to give him credit, he only falters for a second before he’s rubbing the back of his neck and offering a sheepish smile, “Oh, hey, uh… yeah, I’m-”

“Punching a little above your weight, dont’cha think?” Tendou cuts him off with a snort, nuzzling in just a little closer. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear, “I thought Ushiwaka told you about the game tonight.”

You shiver, although whether it’s from his softly edged words or the kiss he presses against your cheek, you’re not entirely sure. “He did, I-I told him that I had to study…”

Tendou laughs, squeezing you tighter, “Psh, is that all? Baby, we can help you study later. C’mon, or we’re gonna miss the start of the game.”

And like that he’s tugging you away. With Tendou’s arm wrapped snugly around you, you don’t even have a chance to turn around and apologise to the guy. He’s done it purposefully, a reminder you suppose of who you belong to - though for your classmate’s benefit or yours you honestly don’t know.

Ushijima’s already on the court by the time Tendou and you arrive at your seats (front row of course) but he glances over as you both settle down and his lips quirk into the faintest hint of a smile.

It would make me… happy, if you came, he’d said.

You don’t miss the razor sharp, anticipatory gleam in his eyes, though.

He destroys the competition. You still remember that brief clip you’d seen years ago of his brutal spike - it seems like time has only served to make it more lethal. The rest of his team is undeniably good, you doubt Ushijima would join a club made up of anything less than the best, but still, he’s in his element and without a single doubt the strongest on the court.

For every point he scores, Tendou cheers wildly. Halfway through the second set you can see that every player on the other side hates Ushijima - if the scowls and muttered snarls they’re shooting his way are anything to go by. You can’t exactly say you blame them for it either. They’re demoralised and angry, frustrated by the huge Ace and his indomitable force and even though he’s not a part of the team, Tendou revels in it. There’s a song he starts to sing, some inane jig that flows too naturally to have been made up on the spot. You can almost imagine him on the court beside Ushiwaka, singing it after stealing point after point from the other team. The two of them must have made a formidable team on the court.

They still do, you suppose.

You’ve never been one for volleyball, or sports in general, but even you can’t deny the sense of feral anticipation in the air as Ushijima steps up to serve on match point. Tendou has his hand wrapped tightly around yours, leaning forward in his seat to watch the spectacle. You can’t say you blame him.

You might hate him, but you can’t deny that his serves are a sight to behold. Your heart thumps as he throws the balls up, runs and launches himself into the air. His legs are arched, his form perfect and you still can’t quite believe how high he manages to get considering his size -

And then he hits the ball, palm slamming into the leather with a resounding smack - it flies over the net, damn near knocks the poor Libero off his feet as he tries to save it, but even that isn’t enough to stop it. The ball ricochets off his receive, spinning into the crowd and just like that - it’s all over.

Ushijima roars in victory, and Tendou turns to you, red eyes wild and delighted. You don’t have a moment to breathe, much less prepare yourself before his lips are crashing against your own.

The deafening cheers of the stadium fade out.

You can feel his racing pulse as he clutches you close, the unrepentant enthusiasm that pours through him as his tongue dances across your bottom lip, begging for entry. You’re stuck still, frozen in place as your soulmate steals his first kiss.

Somehow when you pictured this moment as a little girl, you didn’t imagine that it would be fear that floods your veins, that the soft, breathless laugh that Tendou gives as he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours would scare you instead of making you feel safe and loved.

They walk you home together. It’s unnerving enough with just one of them, but with both your soulmates flanking you you’re more on edge than usual.

Or maybe it’s the slightly weird energy you can sense between the two of them. Tendou hasn’t stopped grinning since he kissed you and Ushijima still seems a little wired from his win. He hasn’t said much since the three of you left the stadium, but he’s holding you closer than normal, an arm slung low across your back, his fingers brushing possessively along your hip.

God, Kyoto can’t happen fast enough.

There’s a lump in your throat as you reach your apartment. They’d offered to take you out for dinner after the game finished - to celebrate Ushiwaka’s crushing victory over ‘those poor assholes’ as Tendou had put it - but despite the pit of hunger in your stomach, you’d politely refused. The less time spent with them the better.

Surprisingly, both Tendou and Ushijima had taken it in stride without so much as a peep.

But now you’re at the front door, keys in hand and Ushijima still has his arm draped around you. It’s not like they haven’t been in this position before, but despite all their gentle cajoling (well, gentle is relative - Tendou whines petulantly and Ushijhima just seems to hover silently like an overgrown bat) they’ve never actually been inside your apartment.

It’s your one sanctuary, and you very much want to keep it that way.

“Y’know, ‘Toshi and I’ve been thinking,” Tendou begins, snatching the keys out of your hand before you can stop him, chuckling and swatting at you when you try and grab them back. “Me ‘n the big guy, we really do love you, baby - head over heels, heart racing, butterflies in your stomach kinda love. It’s kinda sappy, actually. You have no idea how happy you’ve made us.”

The key slides into the lock and he twists it, pushing your door wide open. His eyes flash to yours and he grins, bowing as he gestures towards the open apartment. Your open apartment.

An invitation.

You blanch. “Um, I-I don’t think-”

Stupid of you to think you ever had a choice in the matter - Ushijima’s arm is an iron wall against your back, pushing you forward as he crosses the threshold.

Tendou follows behind the two of you, and the click of the door shutting behind you echoes far too loudly in your small apartment. He tosses the keys into the little dish on the kitchen counter - where they always go when you’re at home - and winks at you.

“I mean we are your soulmates so I ‘spose it’s kind of a given.” He shrugs, leaning back against the countertop, folding his arms over his chest. “But we can’t help but notice that you seem a little… uneasy around us. And I get it, baby, really I do. You’re just a little shy - it’s cool.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as Ushijima’s fingers curl around your jaw and he tilts your face to the side to meet his intense stare, “You’re being unnecessarily stubborn,” he elaborates.

A flicker of amusement dances in Tendou’s eyes at his bluntness. “We tried it your way - taking it slow and steady, trying to ease you in but, well… I think we can all agree your way isn’t working all that great.”

Your eyes snap back to him, “What?”

His grin widens, “So we figured it’s time we try it our way. We’ve been so good, baby! D’ya have any idea how hard it’s been to hold ourselves back?”

Ushijima’s grip is unrelenting, but that doesn’t stop you from frantically trying to fight your way out of it as Tendou pushes off the counter and stalks over to the two of you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, “Been waiting so long for this. Wanted to fuck you on the tables back in the diner in that cute lil’ uniform of yours.” He smirks down at you, his pupils blown wide and dripping with lust.

No. No, no, no! You shake your head frantically as he closes in, “Stop, wait! Let me go, LET ME GO! I-I don’t want-”

Your panicked words are cut off as Ushijima suddenly spins you around to face him. His hand cups your cheek, enveloping it entirely, and his broad thumb strokes the soft skin gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, little one. You just need to see - to feel what we feel for you.”

Whatever retort you have is swallowed up as he closes the gap between you and kisses you. He’s demanding - unrelenting - forcing your mouth open so that his tongue can taste yours. Distantly you register Tendou slotting in behind you, the unmistakable bulge that presses against your ass as he attaches himself to your neck. “Shh, baby,” he murmurs between kisses, fingers sliding to the hem of your top. “Let your soulmates take care of you, hm?”

It’s not like you’ve ever had a choice in the matter.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere ushijima x reader #yandere tendou x reader #yandere ushijima wakatoshi #yandere tendou satori #yandere ushijima wakatoshi x reader #yandere tendou satori x reader #my fic #my writing #yandere imagines #yandere fic #tendou x reader #ushijima x reader #yandere hq #soulmate au #yandere soulmates #tw stalking #tw implied noncon #its 4 am im going to sleep

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 4 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: Ransom shows you a softer side, but when the table flips he leaves you with no doubt that he’s still just as dangerous as he has always been…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 4 to our submission for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. My writing partner @southerngracela is currently on an indefinite hiatus from Tumblr, and I’ve sadly no idea when she will be back. However, this chapter was pretty much finished before she took her break and the rest of the series is also planned out to finish, so as per her blessing before she took time out, I’m intending on finishing what we started.

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 3

True to his word, Ransom had let you spend the day with him after Blanc's visit. It was a day interestingly enough your mind wandered back to, if not for the change in scenery, but for the change in his demeanour. A couple of weeks had since passed from then, but the memory was burned in your brain. And since, you'd spent far more than just a day above the confines of your room. Almost every morning since he’d ‘allowed’ you to make breakfast and most mornings, unless he was heading out to wherever he went, he then let you stay upstairs with him whilst he plugged away at the book he was writing. That in and of itself had come as a shock to you, to learn he was an aspiring author for sure, but you had simply nodded and encouraged him when he had told you. And you had quickly realised that when he was busy writing, you could get busy reading one of the many books or writing in your journal while sat in the large study and he left you pretty much alone.

Which is where you were currently sat now, curled up on the leather sofa as he sat at his desk, tapping away at his laptop, your journal open in your lap and a leather bound copy of ‘Great Expectations’ lay next to you, the page marked waiting for you to pick up from where you had left off the previous evening. As you thumbed the pages of your journal to find the next blank page, you had to smile at the little doodle of a Christmas tree that caught your eye in the top right hand corner of a page you’d written a few days back, the day you’d convinced Ransom that he should at least get one Christmas Tree. He’d obliged, had one; only the one, delivered and permitted you to decorate it how you’d wanted to and even managed a little smile when you stepped back and proudly showed the finished product to him. Then, of course, quid-pro-quo, he had had expected something in return which you’d given, because let’s face it, he’d have taken it anyway.

You’d seen a softer side to him that day, and not for the first time either. Granted, non-asshole Ransom wasn’t an everyday feature by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d seen it twice now. You paused, and then thumbed back a few pages to the day you were now remembering, the day you’d first been confronted with a very different Ransom to the one you were used to dealing with. One that came out of nowhere.

It was a wet day, an early winter storm passing through New England. You were sure it could have snowed but instead, it was just wet and cold. He'd come down with breakfast, instead of inviting you up. He'd brought you warm oatmeal with cream and cinnamon, a small bowl of blueberries on the side and a pinch dish of raisins, having forgotten how you took your oatmeal. A cup of coffee, steaming on the tray. He'd set up your breakfast on the table and sat across from you, not eating. He hadn't even brought coffee for himself.

You'd assessed his mood as morose, distant even. You didn't press, but rather waited for him to out himself and his particular mood. You'd come to recognize when he was thinking and this morning, he was all thought and no presence.

"I'll be gone most of the day," he finally came clean, just as you'd finished your oatmeal.

"Okay," you replied. He hadn't ever really announced his plans to you before. He'd just come and go at all times as he'd liked, never leaving you home alone without the doors locked. This willingness to let you in on his plans for the day fielded a small red flag in your mind and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like this was a test. He said nothing else, just picked up your breakfast dishes and left.

In the time he was gone, you'd managed to shower, nap, write and read. You were growing hungry for dinner, having had to skip lunch in his absence. Then you heard it, the tell-tale signs of his return. The clicks of doors and sounds of boots on the floor above you. The jingle of keys, and a few failed attempts at unlocking your door. A 'fuck' and a 'God damn it' before the door opened and there he stood. Soaked to the bone, dressed in all black from his coat to his toes. Was that ice on the tips of his hair? Was he drunk or just having a moment? Fingers frozen from the cold.

'Jesus Christ, you're soaked.' You said as you took him in. His lips looked a little discolored, his skin more alabaster than ivory. Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed your throw from the chair as you passed it by. 'Get that coat off,' you pulled at its thick woolen collar. The heavy fabric peeled away from his broad shoulders and you let it fall to the floor. You heaved the throw over him and pulled it closed around his thick chest. 'You're not getting sick and leaving me here to rot.'

You moved to give him some space and guide himself further into the room, but ice cold fingers wrapped around your wrist and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your eyes moved upwards from where his hand swallowed you're wrist, along the wet fabric of his black sweater, water droplet covered neck, to eyes that were lost and distant, just as they were that morning, but much worse.

You were nearly as frozen as his fingers were, not sure what to say or do. Worried about consequence. So you just stared back.

'Thank you', it was barely audible as the words poured from his lips.

'Of course.' You weren't sure what he was thankful for but you replied anyway. Cautiously, you continued, 'Will you come sit down? Do you want something warm to drink?' You wanted to ask where he'd been but that was a slippery slope.

'Not here,' he replied.

'Upstairs then, in the lounge,' you suggested. He nodded and turned on his heel, a glance over his shoulder to see if you were coming. You followed, pulling your cardigan around you tightly as the chill from the basement filtered through you, or was it coming away from him, you weren't sure.

You'd thought the lounge was where you were headed but instead, he'd headed for the kitchen, taking a seat at the table there. When he didn't provide instruction or conversation, you inhaled deeply and thought of something to warm you both from the inside-out. You felt his eyes on you as you gathered the ingredients you needed, cocoa, chocolate chips, milk. The cinnamon sticks from the cupboard. You were careful not to make too much of a clatter as you pulled the sauce pan from under the counter.

In minutes, fresh hot chocolate was in two steaming mugs with whipped cream and freshly grated cinnamon. You handed him a mug and then sat across from him, your mug between your fingers. You watched as he sipped from his mug, blowing a little on the liquid before his lips touched it. His eyes closed as if he was stuck in a memory, his expression softening.

His eyes opened and he sighed, 'I can't remember the last time I had something like this. I was just a kid, my nana was still alive. It amazes me how they turned out from the two of them.'

'Money changes people,' you commented. You assumed 'they' meant his family, or at least more specifically, his mother and her two brothers, one of which had been gone for years.

He scoffed, 'fuck my family.'

Throwing caution to the wind, you asked, 'is that where you were?' You couldn't have guessed, given he was usually extremely angry and frustrated when he'd spent time with anyone in the Thrombey-Drysdale family tree.

He frowned and nodded.

'What happened?' You couldn't resist.

'Harlan's memorial.'

'Oh' . You said unable to think of anything else to respond with, because really what else could you say. He’d attended a memorial for the grandfather that would still be alive had it not been for him.

'Oh, indeed,' he mused, long fingers flexing around the mug. 'Surely, you’ve figured out I wasn’t particularly welcome.'

You couldn't say more, he wasn't wrong. You bit the inside of your lip and swallowed hard. He needed comfort. But would you give it to him? Was he deserving of that? Hell no, but your heart ached for him a little. It couldn't have been easy. But maybe this was his punishment for avoiding the ultimate consequence.

'Go on, say it.'

'Say what?'

'That I deserve it.' He looked at you, 'I know that’s what you’re thinking.' He leaned back, 'maybe you’re right.'

Well, that threw you. 'I don't know what I'm thinking, to be honest.' You leaned forward, intending to slip the mug from his hands and take them in yours, but you caught yourself and stopped. That was a step that you weren’t quite ready for, or willing as might be more accurate, to take. 'But, I can tell you're hurting and despite what happened, how it happened, you deserve to say goodbye without the rage and selfishness that got you here.'

'Well,' he leaned back and took another sip from his mug, 'that’s certainly not what they thought. Meg assured me I'm still the stuck up prick without my trust fund.'

A small smirk played over your lips, barely noticeable, 'fuck your family.'

'Careful, Sweetheart,' he smirked, but there was no threat in his words, not this time. He was genuinely amused.

You managed a slight shrug, 'If there’s one thing I learned from writing about you and your ridiculously entitled family tree, it's that each and every one of you is all about everyone for themselves.' You took a deep breath, waiting for the repercussions to fall. 'What happened, happened. Now, this is what you have, so own it.'

You flinched a little as his hand reached to scrub at his clean shaven chin, finger tracing his bottom lip as he studied you for a second before he took a deep breath and reached back for his mug. 'I think you need to make this for me more often.' He stated simply, and just like that, the deep foray into his emotions and psyche was over, and the barriers were closed once more.

'Sure.' You nodded. 'Whatever you want.'

At that he gave a little scoff. 'Sure, whatever I want.'

Silence filled the room again, your mind not sure what to make of that last comment, and his was clearly working overtime, you could tell by the way his eyes were still glazed as he simply stared down at the mug in his hand. The rest of the time you sat by the table was quiet, and you were surprised to find yourself a little disappointed. This was the first real meaningful conversation you’d had with him since arriving here. Sure you’d talked, but never once had you got any insight into what exactly made him tick. You’d learned more in the last ten minutes or so than you had in the entire six weeks you’d been his captive.

His captive.

The words echoed in your mind and you swallowed as you remembered exactly what it was you were doing here. This wasn’t by choice, this man wasn’t your friend or your lover, he was your captor, keeping you for his own entertainment, which he was no doubt going to be seeking from you again tonight.

'I think I need a shower,' he leaned forward, disturbing your thoughts.

'Okay,' You replied. 'I'll, uh, well you know where to find me when you're ready for me. Anything in particular you'd like me to wear tonight?'

'No, not tonight,' he answered with assurance, his voice carrying a low yet soft tone. 'You can go read or whatever it is you do when I'm gone.' You blinked, temporarily dumfounded and he looked at you, snorting a little. 'What? You want me to come and have my way with you?'

'Is that a trick question?' You blurted out before you could stop yourself, before you swallowed and waited for the admonishing, but it never came. Instead he chuckled and shook his head.

'Didn’t think so.' With that he rose from his chair, reaching for your empty mug as he passed. His fingers lightly brushed yours and you were jolted by the sudden sparks that flew up your arm and you took a little breath as he passed, depositing your mugs in the sink. Without another word he breezed from the kitchen for the first time, leaving you alone in the room.

It left you perplexed. Completely and utterly perplexed. He never left you alone, even the weeks on your cycle he’d found other ways for you to satisfy him, with your mouth or your hand for instance, but tonight…

Taking a deep breath, you headed back to your room. You didn’t even look at the main door to the house, there was no point. It was always locked and you knew what the consequences would be if you left. Besides, you wouldn’t get far. Not to mention you had no idea where you actually where and the thought of being outside alone in the dark, frankly scared you to death. No, you were better here. At least you knew it was warm, and familiar.

You headed down the stairs and got ready for bed. You settled in with your book, and after a while your ears pricked up as you heard footsteps outside your room. You swallowed, clearly he had changed his mind. But, as you set your book aside, it wasn’t the sound of the door opening followed by his feet padding down the stairs that you heard, it was the lock clicking as he shut you in for the night.

The sound of the doorbell jerked you away from your memory. Ransom frowned and looked up from the screen of his laptop before his eyes caught yours and he gave a little smirk.

“Expecting someone?”

You rolled your eyes at his asshole joke and he chuckled to himself, grabbing his phone. As he saw who it was at the door his good humour slipped from his face and without another word he rose from his chair. He paused in the doorway and turned to you. “No funny business, remember…”

“Yes, I know.” You replied quietly. “You know where my family are.”

He hesitated, almost as if he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead he turned and left the room to answer the door.

The study wasn't far from the lounge merely the next room down, and the lounge was closest to the door so you tuned your focus to the voice speaking with Ransom. You recognized it and suddenly found yourself adjusting your tee and duster, making sure the cuffs on your jeans were even. You could hear the distress in his tone, the guest was unwanted and you hadn't realized you were now in the hall beside him. You noticed he took a step back towards you, as if he knew you were there.

Linda Thrombey's eyes raked over you, in shock and disbelief. “What the hell is she doing here?”

As she glared, you shifted uncomfortably, your hands pulling on the sleeves of the duster sweater you wore as you swallowed.

“She’s with me.” Ransom replied, his tone even.

“With you as in 'with you'?” Linda turned her eyes back to him, distaste evident on her face.

“Is that a problem, Mother, because you know where the door is.”

It was a problem, you could see it in her face as she once more looked at you, but instead of sniping back she simply took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"No, I just wasn't aware you'd have company." Her eyes flicked back to Ransom who simply shrugged.

"Since when did you know anything about what I do on a daily basis, Mother?"

"Don't start, Ransom. I'm not in the mood and I didn't come here for a fight."

"Then pray do tell, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Can you stop being such a sarcastic little shit for once in your life?" she snapped.

You stilled a little, your eyes flicking to Ransom and you were surprised to find that instead of the usual anger you expected, his face remained passive on the whole, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that, well had it been anyone else you'd have sworn was concern. But Hugh Ransom Drysdale wasn't concerned about anyone but himself...

“What’s happened?” he asked, his voice still gruff but there was a softer note to his voice. Linda took a deep breath and she shook her head.

"I felt a call to tell you wasn't appropriate and this needed to be handled in person." She fixed him with a look. “It’s your Greatnanna Wanetta. She died last night, Ransom.”

You froze, hearing the news leave his mother's mouth and you suddenly felt sorry for him. Ransom, stood there stoic, his eyes fixated on his mother.

“Was it peaceful?” he eventually asked, his voice measured.

“In her sleep.” Linda replied, her tone soft.

Ransom stayed silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling slowly as he took deep breaths. His expression was unreadable as he simply looked at his Mother, before he raised his eyebrows inhaling slowly.

“Was there anything else?” He exhaled, and Linda simply shook her head at him, a huff of annoyed laughter escaping her.

“That’s all you have to say?” She asked, incredulously, as Ransom shrugged with a petulantly nonchalant air, and you saw Linda’s face redden as she exploded "Oh for God's sakes, Ransom, you really are such a selfish little bastard, aren't you?”

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, his tone measured. “You said it was peaceful and she didn’t suffer.”

“No, I said she went in her sleep.” Linda corrected him. “I imagine she did suffer, how could she not after everything that happened, huh? Hell, she probably died of a broken heart”.

At that you saw Ransom’ nostril’s flare as his eyes burned into Linda’s face, a flush of red rising up his neck.

"Get out," he deadpanned. When Linda made no attempt to move, Ransom stepped forward yanked open the front door of the house, gesturing with his arm. “I’m not gonna ask again. Go.”

"Ransom..." Linda tried to strong arm her way to stay.

"Are you deaf or just fucking stupid?" Ransom replied, his voice didn't even raise in volume but something about it made you shiver. He was positively frightening when he was in this frame of mind.

You watched as Linda gave him a final glare and stepped outside without so much as a glance back, the slam of the door behind her making you jump.

Ransom saw his mother out but didn't return to the study, in fact he ignored Y/N's presence in the hall entirely. Instead, he sulkingly moved towards the wet bar in the lounge. He didn't even bother with the glass, he picked up the first bottle he could wrap his fingers around and white knuckled the neck, spinning the cap off, it clinking to the floor. He downed a long pull, the amber liquid burning sinfully as it coated his throat, his eyes stinging but not from the booze.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s soft voice startled him as he hadn’t heard her enter the lounge. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his hand over his face, and turned to look at her, his jaw clenching.

“Did I say you could leave the study? Did I say you could join the conversation with Linda?” His voice was steely, flat, but he knew full well that she understood that to mean he was pissed and she visibly recoiled in the doorway, her eyes widening. When she didn’t answer immediately he slammed the bottle he was holding down on the bar top, and when he spoke again his voice was louder as he demanded an answer. “Did I?”

“No.” She answered with a quiver, “But I…”

“But I…” he mocked, sneering before he scoffed. “You know considering how smart you’re supposed to be, at times you’re really fucking stupid.”

Y/N blinked a little, and opened her mouth to talk but she fumbled over her words as she frantically began to apologise, which simply served to irritate him even more. With a frustrated growl he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up to look at his.

"You do as I say, when I say it. That rule has NEVER changed," his voice was filled with venom. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy. And I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“That’s not...” she whimpered slightly, and the grip he had on her face tightened causing her to cry out. “Hugh, please!”

And there it was, that fucking name.

You immediately realised your mistake as his face burned red and his lips curled up into an ugly sneer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…you were hurting me and…”

“You think I give a shit?” He spat, and the hand suddenly released your face only to wrap painfully in your hair. Without so much as another word he began pulling you from the room, ignoring your shouts of pain and protest as you wrapped both your hands around his wrists, desperately trying to get him to release you. But it was no good, the more you struggled, the tighter his grip became.

Before you knew what had happened he’d dragged you to the door that led to your room and down the stairs, your feet slipping slightly, causing you to stumble, harshly banging your knee on the bottom few steps where he finally released you, shoving you harshly. Your balance already gone, you stumbled and collided harshly with the side of the vanity table, the pain in your cheekbone causing you to yell out once more as the stars exploded in front of your eyes.

It took you a moment to shake off the daze, and when you finally did you looked up to see his retreating back heading up the stairs, slamming the door behind him. With a gasp you slumped down, your back against the wood of the dressing unit, your hand reaching up to your tender face. From somewhere upstairs in the house you heard another door slam, then a moment or so later there was a roar of an engine, which was followed by nothing but eerie silence.

Hugging your knees to your chest you let out a sob as the tears streaming as uncontrollably down your face.

***** All he could see was rage. Red, hot, firey rage. He slammed the basement door and didn't miss the bar cart on his way out, a full bottle of top shelf scotch in his hand, coat and keys in the other. He drove for miles, no destination in his conscious mind but a rather interesting one in his subconscious.

Headstones came into view until his SUV stopped at the end of the grassy knoll where the mausoleum stood surrounded by trees. He climbed out of the car, bottle clutched in his hand and shut the door behind him, simply leaning against the dark metal of his vehicle. For a long while, he didn't move, he simply stared at the entry, gulping large pulls of the scotch as he stared. His thoughts raced and raced, almost making him dizzy. It was that or the fast burn of the booze.

It felt like a flash of his life replaying in his mind. His great-nana, his grandparents, his parents, a life of entitlement growing up, parties, recreational drugs, booze, women, his fight with Harlan, his sudden plot to commit murder and then the crime, his arrest, and then the visions came to a halt with a mind bending pain and at the end of that pain was Y/N.

Her face, her scent, her voice. The way she felt beneath him, around him…those breathy, little moans, sighs. They’d connected recently, Ransom was sure of it, ever since he’d invited her upstairs and let her do something as mundane as cook. They talked more, engaged more, he no longer fucked her and left, instead he’d dress and hang around for a while, and he liked it. But then, today, after his Mother’s visit, those eyes which had mesmerised him from the moment he’d met her had once more reflected fear and confusion.

And Ransom didn’t like it.

Where that fear had, at one point, given him a buzz, now it simply served to remind him exactly how things had been when he had first taken her, and he didn’t like that one bit. He’d grown to crave the other things, like the way she would touch his arm or squeeze his hand. The way she smiled and spoke. The way she made him feel human, not some ghastly, beastly monster capable of killing someone. But he hurt her, more times than he wanted to admit. He hurt her and did things to her, he was vile and despicable. He WAS those things everyone said.

He was a fucking monster.

He felt the upheaval of emotions begin to collapse around him and he fell to his knees. The sting started and he couldn't stop it. An outpouring of emotions, years, decades even of built up anger, resentment, unhappiness, disgust, fear, pain all erupted in a strangled cry as his chest heaved and his heart raced. Salty steaks of tears wet his cheeks.

And all Ransom Drysdale felt in that moment in time was utter defeat.

His Greatnanna, the only other member of his family who truly ever cared about him, that remained on his side or remotely understood him other than Harlan was now gone and the realization of loneliness hit him like a ton of bricks. His body shook, his chest ached, his mind grew numb and all he could do was cry.

What the fuck had he become, WHO had he become? What did he do? Why did he do it? This was all his fault, Harlan didn't deserve to be cold in the ground. He did this, all of this. Again, but why?

He had absolutely no answer other than because he could.

It grew cold, dark, and late. The scotch was gone, his eyes burned and he couldn't breathe through his nose. At this point he didn't care if he made it back in one piece. He was a piece of shit and deserved everything that came to him by way of a tragedy. He climbed into his SUV and tried to collect enough sobriety to drive towards home. Towards her.

******

You had no idea how long you sat on the floor, but by the time you finished crying and had mustered enough about you to move; you were cold, stiff and aching from sitting in the same position for so long. Your face hurt from the blow you’d taken against the dresser, your knee hurt from where you’d banged it but all that paled into insignificance to the pain that was going on inside your chest.

You didn’t understand why Ransom had flipped like he had. For a few weeks now, things had been okay between you, good even. He’d been reasonably amenable to most of your requests and dare you say it, almost happier in himself. But all this served to remind you what lay underneath that façade. A dangerous narcissist with the ability to swap his face and mood at the click of a finger.

Or, in this case, a visit from his mother.

You wiped at your face, hissing as your fingers brushed your tender cheekbone and with a slight whimper of pain you pushed yourself up off the floor and stumbled over to your bed where you lay down and curled up, hugging your pillow to your chest.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you recall it was dark and you were still cold. Whilst the basement was equipped with heaters, you couldn’t shake the chill from your bones so you decided that your best option to warm up, and ease your aches and pains was a nice, hot bath. Stretching out slightly, you gave yourself a moment before you pushed yourself up, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand before you got up and headed into the bathroom, flicking on the light.

You paused at the basin unit, glancing at your reflection and you swallowed at the sight of the bruise that was already forming around your right eye and cheek socket. Swallowing the emotion you felt at seeing your face marked once more in such a way, you turned your attention to the bath and the suddenly remembered that the other night Ransom had presented you with a bag from a Boutique you liked that sold home-made soaps and bath bombs, clearly having been in one of his good moods that day. You had yet to unpack it all and put it in the bathroom, so, deciding that you were going to use one tonight, you turned to head back and grab the bag, but as you emerged into the main part of your room, you were stopped short as a thick chest, covered in a ribbed white tee, a hint of a cardigan peeking out as broad shoulders kept warm by a camel coloured coat blocked your path.

You gasped and felt your belly drop out. Your body immediately began quaking in fear as he stood so close to you. You cowered away, taking a half step back but it wasn't enough to put space between you as his hand gently grabbed your upper arm and pulled you into his chest, a shriek emitting from your voice.

"Don't," his voice cracked. "Don't scream, I'm not gonna..." his words trailed off and he just shook his head.

He held you against him. You were sure he could feel you trembling as his large hands pressed against your back. You inhaled a deep, shaky breath through your nose and was met with his scent. He smelled so good, like an expensive aftershave with hints of amber and sandalwood, cedar and vanilla but there was an underlying, distinct aroma of alcohol, scotch you suspected, unless you were mistaken.

You felt his face press into your hair as he took a large, shaky deep breath, as if he was inhaling your scent, which he exhaled before he pulled away, his hands cupping your face. He tilted your face slightly so he could examine your left cheek and you saw him swallow as he took in your bruising. Something stirred behind his eyes, a sad melancholy that you’d seen only once before crossed his arrogantly handsome features, and his head dropped slowly to yours. He held your jaw in his big hands, his lips on yours. You didn’t fight, fighting was futile, but as the kiss continued it soon became clear that this wasn’t like any of the times he had kissed you in the past. No, this one was soft, like a need to just feel you pressed against him. His plump lips pulling yours in and holding you there and you realised, from the lingering taste of something sweet yet ever so slightly tinged with sour, that your suspicions were correct.

Despite your earlier fear, you willed yourself to relax into the relative comfort. It was like he was back to how he had been before his mother had visited and whilst he was in that frame of mine, you knew you were safe, so keeping him there was in your best interests. Your fingers moved from your sides to his chest, the ribbed tee rough against your skin. You continued your movements as his mouth pulled you in just a little more until he traced his tongue over your bottom lip. Your fingers moved out to and up the lapels of his coat, the soft texture like a cottony suede under your fingertips, before settling on the back of his neck, his smooth skin and hairline a definitive juxtaposition to feel. He didn't balk or pull away as he had done previously when you’d tried to show him affection, and you continued to respond to his kiss, your touch seeming to be a comfort for him and in the back of your mind you wondered what had changed to make him act this way. He broke away and rubbed his nose along yours, almost as if he were touching a butterfly, soft and unsure.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He continued to whisper, over and over. A soft, barely there kiss to your bruises and broken skin and more words, "Let me take care of you."

You were scared to admit that this felt good, the way he was being gentle, apologetic even. Pain radiated from his body once again, like it had just a few weeks ago, his eyes telling you everything he was feeling. The outpouring of emotions there were hard to ignore. You weren't sure if forgiveness was in your repertoire, but compartmentalization was. You looked back at him, and with a slow blink, almost hypnotized, you nod in reply to his request.

Long fingers reached out and tucked a tendril of hair behind your ear, the other hand simply cradling your jaw. You swallowed hard as he bent down and placed his lips on your neck. Your body shivered at the feel of his mouth warm against your skin. His breath hot on your ear, “do you trust me?”

"I don't know," your voice was breathy as you replied.

“Let me fix this," his voice wavered. It was a question, not a demand. He nipped at your skin and you shivered again from a combination of desire and disgust at the way this asshole could make you feel, how traitorous your damned body was.

Ransom felt her breath hitch against his touch. She wasn't fighting him, she wasn't combative, she was...receptive. The thought nearly made him crow for, in that moment, he could feel her trust in him coming in, even if she couldn't verbalize it. He was debating on his lips devouring hers but he was... oh God, he was actually afraid of losing her in the moment. Of her closing herself off. No, he thought, it's best to wait. Ignoring the throw blanket on the floor and the mugs of cocoa on the table, Ransom held her face in her hands. "Do you trust me?" He asked again. She swallowed hard and blinked again, slowly. It was as fair if a reply as he'd get. He could see the war in her eyes, her mind battling with her feelings, her heart. "Stay here."

He left her standing there while he started the hot water. He could feel her eyes on him, watching his every move. He felt different, better even, from the moment he sought her attention when he'd come home. He started the tub faucet and as he brushed past her again, he shucked his coat, tossing it on her bed. He took a small bag he'd brought her earlier in the week and carried it with him. He emptied the contents of a small vile like bottle and watched a moment as bubbles began to firm in the hot but tolerable water. With the bath filling, he sighed to himself and turned to face her.

He peeled his own dusty blue cardigan over his shoulders and let it set over the basin unit. He pushed the sleeves of his white thermal up his forearms and held his hand out to her. She hesitated but slowly slipped her hand in his. He pulled her close and his hands gathered the lapels of her cardigan and peeled it away from her. Underneath her cardigan, Y/N sported a firm fitting white tee and jeans that looked well fitted for her hips and ass, toned legs, bare feet curling into the tiled floor. Ransom salivated as her nipples hardened through the material. He realized she had no bra on under her tee and his hand gently slipped under her rib cage, his thumb padding over her pert nipple. He lifted the thin white tee away from her body and tossed it to the floor. He was half hard just at the thought of her naked under her clothes and now he was solid. Discomfort growing by the second.

A hooked knuckle traced down her sternum, between her breasts and along the center of her taught stomach. He watched as goose flesh covered her exposed skin. As his knuckle reached the waistline of her jeans, he took to his knees, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to her belly, just above her flies. With just his fingers, he undid the button, unzipped the zipper and the peeled the material away from her legs, all the while deep blue eyes peered up at her. He wasn't disappointed to find she'd still worn panties under the rough material, in fact he was delighted. His eyes roved down to her black, lace panties and he reached out, fingers gently tracing long the detailed waistband. Those came down next and as she stepped out of the material, Ransom's hands traced patterns up her leg, faint kisses to her thigh, her hip, her belly. He stood and admired Y/N, completely bare, with less than a foot of space between them.

Ransom hummed, his right hand reaching out, pads of his fingers again trailing a path down the valley of her heaving breasts to her navel. He paused as her breathing hitched and with a smirk his hand dropped lower still, over the faint tuft of hair he insisted she kept groomed, his fingers slipping into her folds. She gave a soft gasp, eyes widening as he continued to tease her, her hands reaching to up to grasp at his biceps as he played with her. She was wet, so wet from just this little bit of play and with a sharp flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers inside of her.

He leaned forward, mouth brushing the shell of her ear, “Just say the words and I’ll make you feel so damned good, Sweetheart, like you’ve never felt before.” Ransom pulled away, removing his fingers from where they’d been, his hand curling on her hip, sticky with her essence. He backed her toward the tub's edge, his forehead pressed into hers. All motion stopped the second the back of her legs touched the tub. "Get in," he whispered.

You sunk down into the water, the aromatic smell of calming lavender swallowing your senses. Bubbles covered your body, to the point they tickled your collar bone. You eyed him kneeling as he reached over you, grabbing the natural sea sponge loofah and dipping it into the water before he squeezed it over your skin, gently scrubbing. Your face once more met his and you carefully watched him as he exhibited a patience you had never seen from him before. Those blue orbs bore into you, but still he made no move to take you.

And it was unnerving.

But then, as you stared into those deep, icy blue pools something suddenly clicked in your mind. He wanted you to want him. That was what this was about. He’d spent his entire life with people who regarded him as unworthy of love or any kindness and he was seeking validation. Whilst you could see he was genuinely hurting, you also still knew this man was violent, angry, had taken you without your permission, taken what he wanted from you and when. You knew he would take what he wanted tonight too, regardless of what your answer was, the moment for you to back out had been and gone.

But something felt so good about his touch that you were shivering in anticipation of more rather than in fear and the feeling of enjoyment on your mind started to overpower the feeling of disgust in your belly as your core tightened with each breath you felt against your skin. You blinked, your head a whirl, as you were shamefully turned on despite the depraved nature of this entire situation. You broke from your thoughtful trance as a hand cupped your face, a thumb pad tilting you chin upward just a pinch to look at him,

"What?" You whispered.

"Let me in?" He asked, his tone a bit contrite and hopeful.

When she nodded in a slow reply, Ransom felt his stomach drop out from under him. Butterflies grew to take flight like an albatross deep in his gut. He dropped the sponge in the water and stood tall, towering over the tub. He reached behind his neck, between his shoulder blades and pulled the thermal over his head, his hair catching slightly on the fabric. He ran a hand through it to straighten it back up and tossed the garment to the floor. He watched as her eyes grew noticeably wide as they roamed over his taught, well-formed abs, his bare chest. He flexed a little, his muscles twitching as he focused on the buckle and flies of his pants. He'd kicked his boots off as he'd undone his belt, the clank an ignored sound as all he could do was watch her and she him. Ransom allowed the material to fall between them, his pants hitting his ankles and he was quick to slip out of his pants and socks. He palmed his hard cock through his boxer briefs as she watched him touch himself.

He could see the change in her, the look of desire and lust in her eyes. The way she was admiring him now, rather than cowering at him. She was appreciating what was before her. His pale skin, his sculpted body, his naked form. He’s seen her, stripped her bare. But normally he's pulled his dick out and just fucked her. This was uncharted territory, this was new. And he liked it. He liked the way she was looking at him, feeding his ego and willingly participating. This, yes, this was something fun for him. And oh yeah, she wanted this, he could see it all over her.

One foot, then the other, Ransom stepped into the tub and sat opposite of her, careful to avoid the faucet. The water felt inviting, the company even more so. Her one leg nestled between his legs while the other just to the outside of them. She slid her left foot up close to his thigh, bending her leg at the knee. At this new comfortable position, his fingers started drawing intricate circles along her shin and calf. He watched her inhale deeply and tilt her head towards her shoulder, observing him.

As you watched him, carefully, you saw him swallow, the hollow of this throat constricting a little before he took a deep breath, his touch on your leg still feather light. You wanted to lose yourself, give into the desire that you were feeling whether it be wrong or right, at that point in time you were past caring. You were in this position, nothing was going to change that, so was it really wrong to want to feel something more than fear? It was like there was a game of chess being played between your mind and heart, your gut and will.

And then, Checkmate, the idea came to you. You had a chance here to keep Ransom satisfied but on your terms. You had the power. And as long as you kept it that way you could control his temper and his actions, and get what you now shamefully admitted to yourself that you wanted. And the realisation that you had the winning move here was almost liberating.

Ransom shifted a little, the water sloshing around him as he sat up, his chest poking a little further out of the water as he studied your face, and you waited to see what he would do. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, he was clearly going through a mental battle himself and eventually he licked his lips, his gaze dropping to your breasts which were just under the water line and he swallowed once more before his hand on your leg stilled and he squeezed your calf muscle gently before he moved, leaning forward, his large hand once more resting against your cheek as he drew you in for another deep, gentle kiss.

You leaned into him, letting his lips works softly against yours as your hand dropped under the water and grasped his solid cock, giving him a gentle stroke. The kiss stuttered immediately, and he let out a choked groan as his eyes flew open, locking onto yours.

“Sit back.” You encouraged, and he did just that, his back once more resting against the top as you followed him, your hand remaining soft but firm enough to keep drawing those noises of satisfaction from his throat. His head tipped back as he let you take control, his Adams apple bobbing, eyes closing as no words left his lips, no dirty talk, no hissed little demands about what depraved position he wanted you to adopt, nothing. You held the power, and that turned you on in a way it really shouldn’t.

He gave a strangled hiss as you gripped him tighter and then you shifted, letting go to allow yourself to move your right knee to his left side, following with your other, his eyes flying open, a look of surprise on his face as you lined yourself up and his hands reached up, surprisingly gentle as they rest against your hips. There wasn’t much room, but it was doable, and you sank down onto him, his eyes flying to your hips as you both gave a little whimper as he filled you completely.

His fingers flexed against your skin, blunt nails biting ever so slightly, as you remained still, your hands sliding up his chest, curling over his shoulders. He was tense, coiled like a spring, clearly fighting back the urge to slam up into you and you began to work at a little of that tension, fingers rubbing up and down his neck, the index on your right trailing that vein that was bulging along his throat. His eyes never left yours until you softly began to knead at the strained muscles along his shoulders and neck, massaging deeply as you worked at the knots, his hands still resting on your hips, contracting every so often as you found a particularly knotty spot.

Every so often, he would make the slightest of movements, simply because he was relaxed and you could feel your walls fluttering sporadically, just from being full and stretched to your fill. But, still he made no move to take over, until at one point you hit a particularly knotty area at the point his neck met his collar bone and he gave a little jolt which caused you to groan and he opened his eyes, searching almost for permission. When he found no objection, his hands gently started rocking you.

The pressure and friction on your clit was boiling. It was slow and burned in a way that was so delightful it was almost painful. And, before you could stop yourself you were rolling into him as he kept that same delectably slow rhythm, rocking you back and forth slowly, deeply, before one hand left your hips and grasped the back of your neck, pulling you down for a deep kiss.

Ransom pulled away from her, breathless, his forehead against hers. The words were barely heard, but he knew he said, "I want you..."

"You have me," she replied in a soft whisper.

"Not here," he shook his head, their foreheads rubbing. He glided his nose against hers.

He missed the way she felt around him the second she managed to stand and slip out of the tub. Ransom was quickly behind her, following, bubbles and water dripping to the floor from them both be damned. He followed her to the bed where she stood at its edge, her eyes inviting him. He took a seat, bare ass and thighs soaking the comforter, knees bent over the edge. His eyes roamed her body, taking her all in. His own deep appreciation for her firm an awakening in his soul.

Slowly, just like she had in the tub, one knee slipped passed a hip, the other following. His lips were on her breasts, inhaling the scent of the oils and bubbles clinging to her skin as his tongue traced a hardened nipple and then the other. As he did so, she sunk back down his shaft again, a guttural groan escaping them both. She was ready, the thick vein of his cock giving a seductive friction against her wall.

Ransom ran his hands up and down her back, long index finger tracing up and down her spine as hot open mouth, needy kisses covered as much skin as he could. His hands splayed over her shoulder blades as his hips met her grind, catching her as Y/N arched into his movements. Her head tipped back, sheer wanton pleasure radiated from her with a heat he could almost feel. His mouth moved to the spot he knew drove her wild on her neck under her ear and the little whimper she made was nothing short of delectable.

As he began to lean back towards the mattress, he rolled her body against his, bringing her down with him. He planted his heels against the comforter and scooted them both to the center of the bed, still buried deep inside her. With a hand back to her hip, a gentle grip keeping his own pace with her rhythm, the other tangled in her messy hair as his tongue dove deep into her mouth, savoring each pass her own tongue made against his. He could feel her body flutter against him, sweet kisses her walls made against his solid cock. Her hands braced herself against his broad chest as she sat up, riding him with fluid, long rolls of her hips and he shivered, despite the searing fire between them. He was no longer fighting that desire to take control, he was more than happy to let her take the lead and respond accordingly, dare he say he was enjoying it. The slowness and sheer intimacy was something he never knew he’d craved until now and as she gave a particularly desperate roll of her hips he groaned, "Fuck yeah, Baby, just...like...that..."

A gasp and a shudder ran through you, your walls clenching down on him as a rush of power surged through your entire body. You rolled your hips deeper against him, the friction against your clit nearly too much. You brought your eyes down and looked down at his face, strong jaw, piercing eyes, his thick bottom lip sucked between his teeth. You had full control over him, beneath you he was as powerless as you had been made to feel. "Oh, God," you’re ready to sing a song of pure ecstasy as your body coils and tightens under your own volition. The signs of orgasm were just...right...there.

As you felt a deep thrust from his hips, hitting your sensitive and perfect spot within, your head lulled back and you felt his name roll off of your tongue, "Ransom...."

At the sound of his name spilling from her mouth Ransom gave a groan. It wasn’t Hugh, or Drysdale, it was Ransom. The one thing she had refused to say from day one and she had finally let herself go enough to give in to what he knew she wanted. His chest swelled, a warm feeling flooding from his toes right to his head and he surged up, his lips on hers, the kiss sloppy as with an easy movement he flipped them both so she was underneath him, all semblance of self-control now lost as her voice echoed round his mind, the soft, sultry way in which she’d cried his name repeating like a prayer.

"Gimme one more, baby, just one more..." his hips were thrusting hard, but not painfully so."Say it again, please," his voice was laced with fire and emotion, a whimper or sob nearly on his lips.

"Ransom...." she replied coming again and his fingers gripped into her skin, holding her in place as his seed shot deep into her, filling her, his entire body shaking, no nearly convusling as he came.

Breathlessly, they laid there, his body gently caging her in, her fingers curling around his neck and into the nape of his hair.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and you blinked, not quite sure you’d heard him right.

“What for?” You asked, your breath still punctuated by your gasps as you came down from your high.”

“For trusting me.” His nose nudged yours and you looked into his eyes, “for forgiving me.”

“I’m not sure I have.” You replied honestly, and a frown furrowed his brown before he sighed and closed his eyes, his head hanging a little.

“That’s fair, I suppose.” He looked back at you before he moved, pulling out of you and immediately you missed his presence, the heat of his body gone as he rolled to his side. You waited for him to rise and dress as he usually did but he made no effort to move. Instead he lay still, looking up at the ceiling before he turned onto his side, his fingers gently trailing down your bruised cheek as it brushed the soft pillow when you turned to look at him.

“Can I stay?” He asked.

It was a pointless question. Because, let’s face it, you didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t want to go he wasn’t going to, and it wasn’t like you could leave. But, nevertheless, the fact he had bothered to ask you in the first place was another first. And you found yourself suddenly believing that if you did say no, he would leave.

Instead you nodded, and he gave you a small smile, not a sneer or a smirk, a genuine smile that lit up his handsome face as he leaned over and pressed his lips tenderly to yours.

Together you managed to get yourself under the duvet before you reached up for the lamp and clicked it off before settling on your side, facing away from him.

“My err, my cheek hurts.” You said quietly, offering him an explanation as to why you’d turned your back on him. He gave a small sigh and one of his arms snaked under your neck, the other curled round your bare body, resting just underneath your breasts. He gave your shoulder a gentle kiss, another unspoken apology before you felt him tug you back into him, your back pressing against the hard wall of his chest.

He was the first to fall asleep, his body spent as was yours but you laid there still feeling the electricity roll through your muscles, tiredness settling into your bones. You had given him what he wanted but kept your ground and done it on your terms. It's what he'd needed this entire time, to hear his name from your lips, to be wanted to be cared about, to be "loved". You internally scoffed. To be loved... you doubted he had any idea what that actually meant, to be loved unconditionally. But as you’d questioned the other day over hot chocolate, was that really his fault?

This situation was fucked up. What you were doing was fucked up, but, if giving him what he wanted and what he needed kept you in the driving seat, so to speak, you could work with it.

**** Part 5

#murder he wrote #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you

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kpophours · 4 years ago

Text

Way to You

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, friends to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 5.7k

You are in trouble.

You are in really big trouble.

Staring at the sleeping person beside you, you think about what to do next.

Maybe you could move to a different country, take on the maiden name of your mother and become a dog sitter. You like dogs! Love them, even. Cats too, you’re not picky.

Or maybe you could apply to be one of those people being shot into space to colonize Mars. It’s probably chill up there - not many people, and even better: no Chan. Probably no wifi too, though. But well, you like reading so you could always pass time by bringing enough books, right?

Or maybe, as an easier and far less dramatic solution: you could just pretend to not remember anything from last night - honestly, from the way your head is pounding right now, it doesn’t even seem that far fetched.

For now you decide to just slide out of bed before the man beside you wakes from his deep slumber, and to flee from his house, hoping no one is going to see you. No witnesses, no crime, right?

At least you’re still wearing a shirt and most of your underwear, so … it could be worse.

Probably.

Right?!

You take in a deep breath and carefully lift the blanket, slowly wiggling towards the edge of the bed. Before you can successfully escape though, Chan beside you groans, and wraps one arm around your waist to pull you close to his own warm body again. You almost squeal, but manage to press your lips together to stifle the noise.

Chan’s breathing is soft and steady - so for now, he’s still asleep, but you need to get away from him as quickly as possible. So you try to escape for a second time, carefully prying his arm from your body and placing it back on the mattress. This time, you successfully slide out of bed, silently landing on your feet and almost losing your balance - you are in desperate need of some water, it seems. Dehydration is no joke, kids. Quietly, you slip into your jeans and grab your bra dangling from a bedpost. You also look for your purse but after being unable to locate it, you finally tiptoe out of the room. As soon as you’ve managed to close the door behind you, you exhale, relief spreading through your whole body. You’re fine, you’re good, you’re almost out of here! You pretty much run towards the bathroom, and suppress a groan when you see your tired hangover face staring back at you in the mirror. After drinking some water straight from the tap, you wash off the pitiful rest of your makeup, put your hair up into a ponytail and deem yourself ready to leave the solidarity of the bathroom again - and to face whoever’s already awake.

The frat house is almost eerily quiet at this time of day, so you try not to make a sound while sneaking downstairs, cringing whenever one of the steps creaks under your weight. You sigh in relief when you’ve finally made it downstairs, and begin to smile when you spot your purse dangling from the back of a chair. To your delight, the keys to your flat, your wallet and phone are all still in there. Maybe the world isn’t as bad of a place as you’re sometimes making it out to be. “Morning.” You squeal and turn around, hand clutching your chest. Hyunjin chuckles when he sees your shocked expression, and silently toasts you with the mug he is holding in one hand. “Well don’t you look lovely so early in the morning.”, he teases, and you stick out your tongue at him. “I’m very sorry to inform you that not everyone has been blessed with a perfect morning face, oh dear Adonis.”, you just answer, and he grins. “Want some coffee”?, he asks, already reaching for a second mug, but halts in his movement when he sees your hesitant expression. Your eyes slide towards the stairwell and back at the young man in front of you again. “I- I should go.”, you say, and he just nods, hand falling away from the coffee pot. “Sure. Have a nice day, then.” For some reason, he seems disappointed, but you try not to give it too much thought. So you just smile at him, before ducking out into the hallway to grab your shoes and jacket, quickly leaving the frat house behind. It’s a cold morning for early autumn, mist hanging between the trees and making it difficult to see, and you bury both hands in your pockets while walking towards the direction of your flat. It’s weirdly quiet, and you’re almost regretting your decision to leave the house so abruptly, even though it was probably the more… sensible thing to do. Chan and you have a long, complicated history - missed opportunities, bad timing, broken hearts. For some reason, it just never seems to work between you guys. There’s always either another person standing between you, or some miscommunication happens, or he is suddenly leaving to spend a term abroad in Australia or or or … the list goes on and on. You’ve never managed to find your way to each other.

Yesterday was his welcome back party, and as part of the “inner circle”, you’d of course been invited to join the surprise gathering as well. You truly love and adore all the boys living at the frat house, even though you want to smack Minho pretty much 24/7, really dislike Hyunjin’s perfect face and superior smirk whenever he plays beer pong against you, and are almost a bit annoyed at Jeongin’s cuteness (you would probably let him get away with literal murder). You also can’t believe the amount of chicken Seungmin manages to eat in a day, and have long lost count of how many times you’ve had to drag Changbin out of the cave he calls his room so he’d finally see some sunlight again and get that vitamin D. No wonder he never grew past the 1.70m mark. Felix is the only one you’d never say anything against, the man being too sweet (and cute) for his own good. He is just sunshine personified. You’d legit burn down cities to protect him. You had met the seven young men during your freshman year, all thanks to your then new roommate and your now best friend Jisung. The others had pretty much accepted you with open arms, and almost just as quickly, you had fallen head over heels for Chan. But who can blame you? Not only is he incredibly handsome, but also funny, witty, smart and always down to clown. Your perfect man in the shape of a talented, beautiful goofball. And he seems to be more than interested in you as well, often shamelessly flirting with you, touching you more than necessary and generally being a total sweetheart towards you.

And yet - … and yet … for some reason, it just never seems to work between you two. Fate is against you, apparently.

Exhausted, you unlock the front door to the flat you share with Jisung, hoping that he is either still at his girlfriend’s place, or deeply asleep. You need a long hot shower and some alone time afterwards.

And coffee, lots of it. Or tea. One or the other, you’re honestly not picky.

Sadly, fate is against you yet again: Jisung sits at the kitchen table, dark eyes almost entirely hidden by too long hair falling into his handsome face. He should really get a haircut. As soon as he lays eyes on you, he gives you a cheeky smile. “Good moooorning.”, he says, tone of voice way too cheerful so early in the day. You sigh internally, but give him a small smile in return and murmur a greeting back. “You look awful.”, your roommate then states, and you roll your eyes at him. “I guess my exterior reflects my inner self, then.”, you grumble, and take the mug of coffee he is sliding your way with a curt nod of your head. “Rough night?”, he asks, lip twitching. You give him a critical look, gnawing on your lower lip. Jisung had left the party around 1am, his girlfriend getting tired and finally wanting to go home.

So how much does he know?

Knowing the boys … they might have instantly texted him, telling him about you staying the night.

With Chan.

In Chan’s room.

After not having seen him for six months.

After having pretty much confessed to him only seconds before he had to take a cab to get to the airport to leave for his term spent abroad.

What can you say, timing has never been one of your strong suits.

Jisung is still staring at you, obviously waiting for your answer. You snap out of your thoughts and take a sip of coffee. You grimace when the bitter taste hits your tongue; Jisung always likes his coffee a lot stronger than you. Pretty much the only strong thing about him though. “It was… long.”, you finally say, and place the mug back on the kitchen table, “And I really need a shower now.” With that, you quickly leave the kitchen again, ignoring your roommate’s low chuckle.

Oh that bastard so knows.

Meaning you have to add a few names to your death note.

Monday is the worst day of the week.

Monday should just cease to exist. Why can’t the week just begin with a nice, chill Tuesday?

You like Tuesdays. Tuesdays are cool.

Mondays on the other hand… They just don’t sit well with you.

“JISUNG, I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I’M GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS DAMN DOOR!”, you yell, and continue to hammer your fist against the locked bathroom door.

He’s been in there for almost an hour now, probably using up all the hot water. You can’t believe he’s doing this to you. There’s only about twenty minutes left before you have to leave for your first class, and you definitely need a hot shower and some concealer. Maybe a miracle. Where’s your make-over-sequence when you need it?! Why are you not a young heroine in a quirky rom-com, then you’d probably look perfectly styled all the time. But no, you’ll probably have to go to class with greasy third-day-hair, sweatpants and the biggest eye bags the world has ever seen. Fifty shades of dark circles under your eyes - the perfect movie title should your life ever get turned into one. Probably a solid 10% on Rotten Tomatoes, maybe 15% if the viewers feel generous. Your life just ain’t that interesting so far.

“JI-FUCKING-SUNG!” You kick the door - or well, you want to. Because in that second, your roommate finally decides to open it, so you accidentally kick his shin instead of the wooden door. He yelps, and doubles over in pain. “Hey, I thought you were a pacifist. Violence is never the answer and all that stuff!”, he complains, voice laced with pain, and you feel like, 20% sorry. Or maybe only 15%. “It’s your own fault if you need half an eternity to get ready.”, you scoff, and squeeze past him to get inside the bathroom and to finally take your long awaited shower. “Aren’t you a joy to have around in the morning.”, Jisung just replies, and you flip him off before closing the door into his puffy morning face.

You’re almost late to class, but not because you took too long in the bathroom, oh no. This is Jisung’s fault again - being the annoying parasite that he simply is, he used up the last of your favorite tea, meaning you had to search through the kitchen cabinets to find your less tasty emergency back-up tea. Finding it had taken way too long, because about two weeks ago, Jisung had randomly decided to move everything around inside the cabinets, and now you can’t find shit anymore. He should really get a hobby or two.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the lecture hall, and almost frozen to death thanks to the temperature dropping way too low last night. Your hair is still wet because you didn’t have time to blow dry it this morning, so you know you’ll look like a crazy witch in approximately half an hour. Having unruly hair is fun. “Hey, Y/N!”, someone yells as soon as you walk through the door, and you jump, almost spilling the back-up tea all over yourself. Thankfully, you manage to maneuver the small thermos flask away from your body, so the hot liquid spills onto the floor instead of your clothes. You shoot a silent apology to the cleaning staff. Your eyes zone in on the person responsible for your near-death-experience, and you groan when Minho flashes you a cheeky smile. It’s way too early to deal with demons, you decide, and are about to turn around and search for a more welcoming or even unfamiliar face in the crowd of students, when Hyunjin appears at your side, mirroring Minho’s gleeful expression.

“Hell’s empty and all the devils are here.”, you mutter under your breath, and Hyunjin laughs, before shoving you towards the empty seat beside Minho. “Stop quoting Shakespeare, you drama queen.”, he just says, and takes the seat on your other side. “I still don’t understand why you had to take the same class as me this term. There are endless other classes you could have chosen. Endless, I’m telling you!”, you mumble, expression grumpy. Minho chuckles. “And rid you of our extremely pleasant company and highly amusing commentary? Never.” You just scoff and open your backpack, rummaging through it until you find your small notebook and pen. Call you old fashioned but you actually like to take notes by hand, eyeing Minho’s sleek MacBook Pro with slight distaste (and maybe a hint of envy). Hyunjin’s doing… better, you guess, because he too is taking notes by hand, but he just has a random assortment of loose paper instead of a bound notebook. You already know he’ll have lost half his notes by the end of the day and will probably ask to borrow yours. Oh that sweet chaos boy.

“How was the rest of your weekend?”, Minho asks, “You were gone by the time we all got up on Saturday, people were really sad and disappointed by your sudden disappearance, you know.” His tone of voice is innocent, too innocent. You know exactly who “people” includes. Oh, you know it way too well. “I had things to do.”, you answer curtly, eyes stubbornly trained at the front of the room where the teacher’s just trying to set up his laptop. You hope he’ll hurry, because you really don't want to continue talking to Hyunjin and Minho. But apparently, the teacher is a hopeless case, looking at the different cables with a big question mark on his face. What is it with boomers and technology, honestly. “Come on, my dude. Please hurry.”, you whisper, watching the man intensely, both eyebrows drawn together. You try to send him mental strength, because he actually looks like he’s about to cry. You’d go and help him if you weren’t sitting at the very back of the lecture hall. Hyunjin pokes your cheek, and you jump. “Answer us, coward.”, he says, sounding way too pleased. “My weekend was fine. The hangover was uncool, but I spent the rest of the day destroying Jisung at Mario Kart and eating greasy food, so it could have been worse. Sunday was uneventful, I just caught up with some of my reading materials for class this week.”, you recap your last two days in a flat voice, “How about you guys?” “Those were the oh-so-important things you “had to do”? Groundbreaking, truly.” You ignore Minho’s sarcasm and begin to play with the cap of your pen. “Well we had to clean the house after Chan’s welcome home party, of course. And then he showed us some of the pictures he took in Australia - there was this one really cute one where he was cuddling a koala, I’m sure you’d love it.”, Hyunjin tells you, and you’re this close to kicking him. How dare he put the mental image of Chan cuddling a koala in your head. You hate how much you love it. Just because you really like koalas of course, this has nothing to do with Chan himself. If you repeat it over and over again, you might actually believe it one day. Probably not. Ugh, Hyunjin and Minho are truly the worst possible friends you could ask for. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these. “Cool.”, you just murmur, and thank the Heavens above when you see that some student has finally taken mercy on your teacher and is helping him set up. Soon after, the lecture begins, and as annoying as Hyunjin and Minho may be, they usually do take their studies seriously, so they finally shut up and leave you be. You sigh in relief, and begin taking notes as well.

You don’t even know why you agreed to come.

You don’t want to be here.

At the frat house.

Again.

You were just here last week, and everyone knows how that ended.

You had managed to avoid seeing Chan all week - not that it was difficult, seeing as you don’t share a single class with him. But he hasn’t texted you either, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a teeny tiny bit disappointed.

You grind your teeth, cursing Jisung and his stupidly cute hamster cheekies and puppy eyes. You hate to admit it, but you’re prepared to give him just about anything whenever he looks at you with his deep brown eyes while puffing out his cheeks. Honestly, what did the Universe think all those years ago, bringing him into your life?! Why couldn’t someone else have answered your ad about searching for a new roommate? Why did it have to be Jisung?

This whole mess is really just Jisung’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, you’d probably never have met the perfection that is Christopher Bang Chan.

“Are you trying to set the house on fire by staring at it? Because I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m pretty sure it ain’t gonna work.”, your best friend says, voice laced with barely hidden glee.

He knows how much you hate being here. You had only agreed to come after Jisung had promised Chan wouldn’t be here this evening. Pinky-promised, even! But you already see his car parked outside the frat house, and that can only mean one thing - Jisung has betrayed you. That bastard. This is how Jesus must have felt when he found out about Judas’s betrayal. Or Caesar, when he was stabbed by those closest to him, including his own son Brutus. You really can’t trust men. Your heart aches for your other best friend, but of course she just had to graduate top of her class and therefore go attend the most prestigious university in the country. Meaning she’s about a thousand miles away from you right now. In the end, you really can’t trust anyone, huh. But especially not men. And especially not Jisung, it seems.

“You’re less funny than you think.”, you just answer flatly, and your roommate scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. We both know the Universe has blessed me with both devilishly handsome looks and an amazing and unique humor.”, he replies, and now you really want to smack him. But being a self-proclaimed pacifist, you just take in a deep breath and decide to only think about all the ways you would murder him if you were a cold-blooded killer and not a usually soft tempered college student. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper and let’s finally go inside, I’m freezing.” And with that, your best friend simply drags you towards the front door.

Judas and Brutus have nothing on Jisung, you decide. Because the second you step inside the living room of the frat house, you’re greeted by the charms (the Chan arms). It’s way too cold to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, but Chan didn’t get the memo apparently. Or maybe it’s because he’s just so hot, he doesn’t get cold, like ever.

You grimace at your own lame joke, even though you thankfully didn’t say it out loud. That would have been embarrassing.

There are a few other people here already, maybe about 15 in total, and everyone greets you and Jisung warmly. You smile and return hugs, and before you know it, Changbin has handed you some wine in a red plastic cup. How very fancy, you truly feel special tonight.

He then pushes you towards the four old, mismatched sofas taking up most of the living room space, and orders you to sit down. You’re so surprised by his commanding tone, you actually follow his request without much protest. For a few minutes, you just stay quiet and observe the small crowd of people, taking a sip of wine from time to time. It’s dry, too dry for your liking, and you’d rather have a cup of tea right now. Or well, maybe a shot of vodka - because suddenly, Chan is making his way towards you. Your eyes dart around the room, and you desperately try not to look at him. He looks so good. Too good. No one needs that much beauty, this is truly just excessive. His black hair looks so shiny, you just want to run your fingers through it. And his deep dark eyes, perfect to drown in. You just want to touch his arms and see if his muscles are as hard as they look. He even has a perfectly cute smile, that bastard. It’s just too much, he’s just too much.

Before you can get up and flee from the scene, Chan falls onto the ground beside you, and gives you his signature cheery smile. His lips look incredibly kissable in the dimly lit room. Ugh.

You quickly look away.

“Hi.”, he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He has too much power over you, and he doesn’t even know it. “Hi yourself.”, you answer quietly. “How you’ve been? We haven’t seen each other all week.”, he asks, leaning closer, his right arm brushing against your left one in the process. He smells really good and you can’t help but deeply inhale. “Yeah, I’ve been quite busy.”, you explain, still avoiding to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see how he raises both eyebrows. “Busy? It’s only the second week of class. I didn’t know you’ve become such a geek while I was gone.”, he says, but his soft smile indicates he’s just joking. You shrug, and take another sip of the too dry wine. You grimace again.

It’s disgusting, really, and you don’t even know why you’re still drinking it.

Chan takes the cup out of your hand, and eyes it suspiciously before taking a sip as well. His face says it all, the wine truly is disgusting. “What is this!? A liquid from Hell?!”, he asks and shudders, and you break into a smile. “Considering you live with at least two demons, it’s not that far fetched.”, you answer, and he tilts his head to one side. “What did Hyunjin and Minho do now?”, he sighs, and you shrug. “They were themselves.” Chan chuckles, mumbles “That actually says it all.” under his breath and leans back against the sofa. He’s still looking at you, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. Really uncool of your body to just betray you like that. Mind over matter, you think, and dare the blush to just go away and leave you be. It doesn’t work though. Years of evolution and you’re still unable to command your body the way you want to. How incredibly rude. Darwin would be so disappointed.

“I missed you, Y/N.”, Chan suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper. You finally turn towards him, and lock eyes with him. His expression is soft and his eyes earnest. You give him the smallest of smiles. “I… well, I missed you too.”, you finally confess, heart fluttering when he breaks into a bright smile. He lifts his hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear, all while still intensely looking at you. Your heart rate immediately flatlines, and you think you might have a very spontaneous case of strong asthma, because your lungs are apparently giving up on you as well. You basically drown in Chan’s eyes, their warm brown so familiar.

“MY DEAREST DUDES AND DUDETTES!”, Seungmin suddenly yells - a beautiful alliteration, you think -, making both you and Chan jump. You hurriedly bring some space between your bodies, almost having forgotten about not being alone in the room. You can feel Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung looking at you, all three sporting matching, shit-eating grins.

Maybe being a pacifist is not the right way to go through life after all, because right now, you really just want to punch them. Only lovingly, of course, but with enough strength nevertheless.

“Thank you for joining us on this wonderful Friday evening, and welcome to this month’s game and drinking night! I see most of you have already found your seats, so everyone who’s still standing, please go and sit on your butt, thank you very much.” Seungmin grins and waits for everyone to follow his words. He should really consider quitting law school to become a tv host instead of a lawyer. When everyone’s finally seated, he grabs an empty bowl from the shelf behind him and holds it up into the air, its blue glass catching the light. “Everyone, please write down your names on the slips of paper provided for you, and then we shall begin playing our first game of the night.”

It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to write down their names, mostly because there aren’t enough pens for everyone, so people keep fighting over them. After everyone’s finally done, Seungmin collects the slips of paper again, and puts them in his bowl, shuffling through them. “First game of the night is Seven minutes in Heaven.”, he says, his smile cheeky. You groan internally. He can’t be serious. But apparently, he is - because he fumbles for two paper slips, about to declare the first names. “Fingers crossed for it to be Hyunjin and Minho, just because I wanna see their faces.”, you mumble, and Chan beside you chuckles. “Well now I really want to see that, too.”, he replies in a low voice, leaning closer so you can hear him. You gulp nervously, and are about to answer, when Seungmin clears his throat. “Y/N, Chan? Did you not hear me?”, he asks innocently, and you turn towards him, both your expressions questioning. For someone so cute looking, Seungmin can be really evil sometimes, his smile almost devilish right now. “You’re the first ones up. Now go, have fun. Your seven minutes will begin as soon as you close the door behind you.” You’re actually speechless for once, just blinking at the man in front of you. This can’t be happening. He can’t be serious. There is no way this is a coincidence. You know Seungmin and the other boys too well for that. God, you really should have written all their names into your death note when you had the chance. You’re about to demand for Seungmin to show you the slips of paper in his hand, when - “Uh, well… Let’s go, then.”, Chan finally says, and takes your hand in his to help you up from the floor and drag you towards the little broom cabinet under the stairs.

How very Harry Potter-like.

The last thing you see before Seungmin closes the door in your face, is his stupid smirk.

Oh how much you hate him and the others right now.

It’s dark inside the cabinet, only some light falling through the slits around the door, but it’s too dim to see anything. Dust tickles your nose, and you have to suppress a sneeze. Chan standing opposite you clears his throat. “So.”, he says, and you shift from one foot to the other. The cabinet is small enough for your bodies to be almost touching. You can feel the heat radiating off him and want nothing more than to cuddle to his chest. “So.”, you repeat. “Here we are.”, Chan says. You just chuckle and nervously rub the palms of your hands together, air thick with tension. Before you can say anything else, Chan takes a step closer to you, hot breath fanning over your face. He smells like mint mixed with alcohol. It’s a nice combination, you think. But then again, you’d probably like anything on him. He’s Chan, after all.

Your Chan.

You shiver involuntarily, his close proximity making you almost a bit dizzy. “Are you cold?”, he murmurs, voice low and silky. Goosebumps rise all over your body and you shake your head - until you remember he obviously can’t see it in the darkness. “Not really.”, you whisper back, breath hitching when he suddenly wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand, mirroring your own. “Why did you leave last week?”, he asks, sounding more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard before. You gulp and bite down on your lower lip. Guilt washes over you. “Technically you left first - for Australia, remember?”, you shoot back, a really weak and sad attempt if you’re being honest. “You know I never would have left if I didn’t have to.”, he says, and you sigh. You know that, of course you do. Chan is a nice, good guy, a really nice, good guy. It had been stupid of you to confess your love for him right before he had to go. In the end, your broken heart had been no one’s fault except your own. You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do - I wasn’t sure how you’d react, waking up next to me after all those months of not talking.”, you confess, voice soft and tiny, and duck your head.

Chan’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he lifts your chin with two fingers. “I would have been happy. I would have kissed you good morning before making you some tea. And then I would have stayed in bed all day, cuddling you and showing you all the cool pictures I took in Australia.”, he murmurs, thumb tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. You exhale, sounding wobbly. “That would have been nice.”, you answer, and can almost feel his bright and relieved smile. “Well, tomorrow is Saturday again. So maybe we can just have a do-over.”, he asks, lips awfully close to your own now. “I think I’d like that - I’d really like that.”, you mumble against his lips, and then - finally - he kisses you. Fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids, and you quickly wrap your arms around Chan’s neck to pull him even closer. Now that you’ve started, it seems you can’t get enough of each other - what starts out as a slow, romantic kiss quickly becomes a clashing of tongues and teeth, and when he bites down on your lower lip, you can’t help but moan into his mouth, a hot, tingling feeling shooting through your entire body. All you can think right now is that you never want this moment to end - you’ve been waiting for this for so long. You’ve been waiting for him to finally find his way to you. And you yourself are just so, so tired of running away from him. Never before has anything ever felt so right.

You’re interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, and immediately jump apart, breaking the kiss. You’re both breathless, chests heaving, and even though you can’t see right now, you know that your hair is a total mess, your lips are swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Your seven minutes are over, so you better be decent!”, Minho says from outside, and before either you or Chan can reply, he opens the door. Light floods the tiny cabinet, and you blink against it, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The first thing you see when your eyes have finally gotten used to the brightness again, is Minho’s shit-eating grin. He stands in the hallway with both his arms crossed and head tilted to one side. “Well, well, well. Heaven sure seems to be as magical as they say, huh?”, he just says, and you really want to smack the grin off his stupidly handsome face.

But Chan just laughs, and grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. You’re ready to just faint right there and then, knees almost buckling from the sweet gesture. Who cares about Minho’s stupid grin when Chan is being perfect again. “Truly magical, yes.”, Chan just answers good-humoredly, and tugs you out of the broom closet, “Well, if you’d excuse us now.” And with that, he simply drags you up the stairs and towards his room. “Hey, where you’re going?!”, Minho and Hyunjin yell in unison, and you look over your shoulder to give them a cheeky grin. “Chan has some pictures he wants to show me - someone told me there’s a really cute one where he cuddles a koala. I finally want to see that now.”, you answer innocently, and wink at them. Chan laughs and quickly pulls you close, kissing you again. You ignore the clapping and cheering noises the others make downstairs. God, your friends are really embarrassing sometimes. But maybe you’re not as sorry anymore about not having written any of them into your death note. Because as stupid and embarrassing as they often are, you do truly adore every single one of them. “You know what, I think that particular picture would make a really cute background for your phone.”, Chan murmurs against your lips, and you raise both eyebrows. “Oh, I bet.”, you just answer, and smile at him.

… Spoiler alert: it’s actually the perfect background for your phone.

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moonbeambucky · 5 years ago

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3997 Warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of death/loss

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 1 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

A soft knock at pulls you away from the computer. Twisting your stiff head towards the door you smile, seeing Steve Rogers standing with a tray of coffee and a paper bag in hand marked with the logo of your favorite nearby restaurant.

“You’re a lifesaver!” you chuckled, though you meant every word as you invited Steve to sit at your desk for lunch.

Steve worked security for Stark Industries and you developed a close friendship in the years since you’ve been there. Though he was undeniably good looking, with the build of a Greek God and long lashes you were incredibly jealous of, you never saw Steve as anything other than the brother you never had.

At the time you met he was dating a girl from the building, Lillian Nguyen from accounting. You hadn’t seen much of her in person, just through the photos Steve showed you with adoration on his phone. When he began talking about looking for engagement rings you were thrilled but that excitement was replaced with anger and confusion when Steve found out Lillian was cheating on him.

He was extremely hurt and became guarded afterwards, not wanting to put himself out there again. His lack of socializing worked with your lack of a social life and on the rare occasion you had a moment free from school work Steve would often come over and hang out to binge watch shows you needed to catch up to on Netflix while you ate pizza.

The paper bag rustled as he pulled out a large sandwich, cup of soup and a salad, distributing napkins across the desk as he knows how much of a messy eater you can be. You grabbed the sandwich, tearing open the paper wrapping and sinking your teeth into it with a bite full of food too large for your mouth.

Steve laughed, as he stirred the broth of his soup. He’s witnessed you eating before, unapologetically shoveling food into your face especially when you were starving.

“You know the sandwich isn’t goin’ anywhere, right?” he joked.

Chewing a large mouthful, you grabbed a napkin to wipe the corner of your lips that you felt had a piece of food sticking to it.

“Steve,” you paused to take a sip of coffee, “I’m fucking starving. I ran out this morning and all I had here was a package of almonds that are not filling despite what you say.”

He asked the reason for your tardiness and you explained how you stayed at the cafe until closing to finish up your work, all because of your stupid neighbor.

“Have you tried talkin’ to him?”

You stared at Steve incredulously. “Haven’t gotten a chance. I gotta wait for the right moment. There’s no way I’m knocking on his door, not when he’s banging all of New York, who knows what I’d end up seeing.”

“D’ya want me to do it?”

It was in Steve’s nature to help and though you appreciated his offer you wanted to handle this yourself. You were the one that had to live next to the Music Man, it would be better to confront him alone.

“I understand,” he said, taking a swig from his water bottle. “You down to hang tonight?”

“Wish I could but before my time is sucked away by the next paper I really need to research where I could do my internship. I’m all registered for school but I need to submit the paperwork for where I’ll be doing my hours and I’m running out of time.”

“You should talk to my buddy Sam. Maybe he could get you in at the hospital.”

Sam was Steve’s friend from the gym. They’d work out together, turning everything into a friendly competition to see who could run faster or lift more. Sam was also a doctor in the emergency department of Metro-General so he might have connections. It was worth a shot so you asked Steve to text him. Still you planned on searching for more backups to be safe.

Before the hour was over Steve left to head back downstairs to the security desk and you continued your work for Ms. Hill. You had evolved to working closer with Ms. Hill, becoming more like an executive assistant to her and when necessary Ms. Potts.

In between coordinating a meeting your phone goes off with a text from Wanda, asking if she could see you over the weekend for brunch. Ironically, she ended up moving to the city after all. There was only so far she could go with her degree at home and with her mother’s blessing she came to New York to work for The Jewish Museum.

She lived in a trendy loft on Bleecker Street, decorated with her signature eclectic style. Woven rugs hung like tapestries on the wall, plants hanging down from macramé holders in front of the large windows. Her furniture was an odd mix of plush velvet tufted cushions and smooth leather arm chairs that somehow worked with the mid-century touches and industrial shelving.

Her apartment had more space which you envied, although you loved everything else about where you lived. The neighborhood was amazing, with great shops and a lot of different food options right at your doorstep. Everything was perfect, except your neighbor.

Responding to Wanda you let her know you could most likely make it depending on the workload you’d be getting from your Saturday class. You could not wait until that was over. Spending all day in a small, windowless room instead of enjoying the summer weekend made you miserable but you were close to the end, so, so close.

When the work day was over you went to meet Steve downstairs, walking over to the desk to say goodnight to the elderly security guard who’s been with the company since its inception.

“Any plans for the weekend Mr. Lee?”

The wiry white hairs that made up his mustache moved as he grinned. “Well, Joanie thinks my hair’s getting a bit long,” he smiled, running his fingers through his greyish-white strands. “She’ll have it trimmed before supper, I'm sure,” he laughed.

A smile graced your face whenever you listened to Mr. Lee, admiring the adoration he had for his wife. Steve has heard all of his stories more than once but he never tires of them either. Everyone loved Mr. Lee, especially Tony Stark, who continued to pay him a full time salary for the part time hours he worked.

The job was easy enough as he greeted visitors to Stark Industries, and signing them in to the building while Steve and some other employees did most of the security checks.

You and Steve bid Mr. Lee goodbye as you made your way to the subway. Steve didn’t live far from you and though he could have gotten off at a further stop he always walked with you to your building, partially to make sure you got home safely but also because he needed a distraction to get out of his head.

There were many times when you suggested he go out, not with the purpose of meeting someone but just to break up the monotony of his routine, but Steve lost his confidence after the breakup. For now, he didn’t want to be told what to do, he simply needed a friend and so you were there for him.

Wanda sat back against the chair beside the bistro table covered in shade. Her always changing hair color was light brown today, parting the silky strands perfectly down the middle. She was the definition of cool, despite the heat, wearing a loose scoop-necked tank top, slim ripped jeans and topped things off with a pair of motorcycle boots. Her neck was adorned with a few necklaces of varying lengths, one of which she never took off, a silver lightning bolt in honor of her late brother.

She and Pietro were twins with distinctly different personalities. Wanda was laid back, even as a child. She would actually stop to smell the roses that lined the garden of their backyard, whereas Pietro was always moving. He was an extraordinary multitasker that could not sit still.

Pietro had so many dreams, a full list of things he wanted to do in life but he was taken from the world too soon. Wanda wears the necklace as a reminder to live life to the fullest, knowing how quickly things can change.

Squeezing through the other tables to get to Wanda, you huff as you sit down and catch your breath, apologizing for being late.

“Wanda, I swear I’m going to kill him.”

“Who?”

“The fucking Music Man! I had to leave my own damn apartment again because of his stupid playing. Like, dude, could you not? You live in an apartment. Everyone hears you, everyone!”

Grabbing the glass of ice water you quickly drink most of it to soothe the dehydration of your mouth.

“And another thing, like does he not realize that we can all hear the girls he’s banging? Wanda, they’re so fucking loud. If they were still there right now I bet you could hear them from here.”

Wanda laughed at your accusation. “Oh, so they don’t stay the night? He’s a ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ kinda guy?”

“I guess! I hear them leave, whining at his door as they’re begging to stay over. It’s so pathetic. What’s so great about this guy anyway?” you scoffed. “I wish he never moved here!”

With a final humph you opened the menu, your anger dissipating as you read the descriptions for everything you wanted, mouth salivating as you tried to decide what to choose. Wanda opted for the frittata while you decided to take out your frustrations on yourself with delicious Challah French Toast.

Wanda’s eyes widened as she watched you drown your meal in syrup. You hummed in satisfaction as you took a bite.

“Hmm, it’s not as good as the kind your mom makes,” you said.

Wanda laughed, “Uh, yeah, because she never used a whole bottle of syrup. Geez Y/N can you taste anything other than sugar?”

“Shush Wan, let me enjoy myself here.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at you. “Well, anyway, I wanted to tell you something exciting...” she sang, grinning widely. “Director Coulson asked me to curate an exhibit on prejudice told through Romani-Jewish art!”

“Wanda this is perfect! I’m so happy for you!” you beamed, getting up from your chair to wrap your arms around her in a proud hug.

“I know! I’m so excited. Mom’s gonna come up for the opening. I mean that’s a long time from now but fuck, I can’t wait!”

After finishing brunch you went back home to begin working on your final. It was a research paper that was worth half of your grade so you really needed to concentrate. And yet the moment the elevator doors opened to your floor you heard it, the sound of music flooding the halls coming from none other than the apartment next to yours.

Jamming your keys into the door with frustration you grunted, grabbing all the things you needed to do your work at the cafe. Your foot tapped impatiently as you waited for the elevator again. With your arms crossed over your chest you could feel your blood boiling beneath your skin, beating to the stupid rhythm of the stupid song that your stupid, inconsiderate neighbor wouldn’t stop playing.

The elevator dinged before the doors opened and you were like a bull, grunting and blowing puffs of air from your flaring nostrils as you were ready to charge into it. As the doors opened you stopped yourself from barreling into your neighbors that were inside.

“Whoa, Y/N!” Clint said, raising his hands up defensively, “Easy there.”

Clint lived on the floor above you along with his fiancée Natasha, whose arms were looped through his.

“Sorry guys,” you apologized. “Oh, wait.” Making your right hand into a fist you ran it across your chest in a few circular motions.

“Someone’s been practicing,” Natasha chimed in, signing her words along as she spoke to you.

Clint was partially deaf and though he used hearing aids he often signed, especially when he didn’t feel like talking to people, although you were one of the lucky ones he considered a friend. Still, you wanted to be able to communicate with him, even if he didn’t want to actually speak.

Clint was a history teacher who already tried to get you into his school for your internship but doubted you would be brought on board. There were apparently a lot of issues going on with the principal and Natasha surmised there was a big lawsuit in the works.

Natasha was an attorney, hoping to make partner at her current firm Nelson & Murdock. Clint never failed to praise her, nicknaming Natasha the Black Widow as he claimed watching her dismantle a witness was like watching a spider sink its venomous fangs into its prey.

“Where’re you guys off to?” you asked.

“Just going out for some ice cream,” she replied.

Clint laughed. “Some ice cream? No, I’m going out to eat a lot of ice cream,” he chuckled, rubbing his eager stomach.

Natasha poked the small protrusion of his belly through his shirt. “Listen buddy, we’ve got a wedding to plan. Easy on the ice cream.” Natasha brought her full lips to his for a kiss they both smiled through, knowing she was teasing him.

“What about you Y/N?” Clint asked.

The elevator doors opened and you walked out with them, explaining how frustrating it’s been that you’ve had to leave for the cafe to do your work all because of the new neighbor.

“Oh the Guitar Hero?” Clint joked. “Yeah, we can hear him too. Well, actually…” he drifted off smirking.

“Clint takes his hearing aids out so no, he doesn’t hear him,” Natasha filled in the information that had you bursting out with laughter.

“Can you hear the women too?” you wondered, considering their apartment was right above his.

“Yeah, kind of, that’s more muffled though. It’s probably a lot worse for you.” Natasha grimaced, catching the way she didn’t mean the words to come out.

It was true though, sharing a wall with the man that made your string lights bounce with every thrust. The sound was bad enough and thankfully your headphones helped with that but every night you had to shut your eyes, hoping you would fall asleep before he was through with them.

You had to give it to the guy though, the man had stamina. Still, you wanted to kill him. At least you were friends with a lawyer...

The next few days have the same result, with you coming home dead tired from work, hoping you’d be able to stay home to work on your final to no avail. You tried using the headphones in your apartment but it didn’t help. The sound was mostly blocked out but your mind couldn’t focus on anything but the anger you held towards the neighbor, knowing he was playing that same song over and over again.

You might as well live in the cafe since you’ve practically paid them your rent in coffee and pastries over the last month. You were burning out quickly and Steve decided you needed a break, bringing over pizza and beer.

Opening up the box, you smiled, staring at the bubbling cheese.

“Ahh, pizza, my one true love,” you said, plating slices for you and Steve.

Your small table was always covered in textbooks, mail and other paperwork you needed to tend to, so you and Steve took your usual spots on the couch.

After working at Stark Industries for a few months you made enough money that allowed you to finally buy much needed furniture. You adored your light grey couch, adorned with blush colored throw pillows. You threw the fuzzy white blanket over the side of the couch, not serving much purpose during the summer months other than to look like it was naturally left on the cushion in a perfectly styled manner for display.

Pushing aside the candlesticks that sat on your coffee table, you set down actual coasters for the bottles Steve opened, not wanting to ruin the veneer of the grey wood top of your rustic coffee table. A small accent rug helped define the space you declared as the living room, despite having your bed within arm’s reach beside you.

Against the brick wall is your TV, sitting atop a modern white stand with shelves for storage you’ve packed to the brim. Beside it, a large antique floor mirror leans against the brick. It was as tall as Steve who helped bring it to your apartment after you found it at a flea market. However, the thing you cherished most was the artwork of the Brooklyn Bridge that hung above your couch, painted by Steve as a gift to you.

“So,” he said, chewing quickly to swallow the food in his mouth. “I talked to Sam. He said it would be cool for you to call him about the internship.”

“Oh yeah. You really think he could help or is this just a rouse to give him my number?” you half-joked.

Steve laughed deeply, wiping away a bit of oil the pizza leaked onto his chin. “Nah, it’s definitely about the internship but I wouldn’t put it past Sam if he tried to take you out. Lord knows he’s been on my case about it with you since I met ‘im.”

“Does he not think guys and girls can have a friendship without romance involved?”

“I can’t speak for him… probably not though.”

You laughed before getting up for another slice. You hoped Sam would be able to help with the internship, no strings attached. He didn’t seem like that type of guy anyway, and all of Steve’s friends were good people so you weren’t worried.

As the Music Man began his one man band you had to gradually increase the volume of your television; your anger rising with every click of the remote. It was no longer enjoyable to watch the action movie you and Steve put on, having to raise the volume for higher to hear the dialogue and scramble to lower the blasting noise of car screeching and explosions. When you couldn’t take it anymore you called it a night.

“Guess you haven’t spoken to him?” Steve asked the question he clearly knew the answer to.

“Soon,” you said hopefully, not knowing when the day might come.

As the sun began to rise on the early Saturday morning you were getting ready for class. With your closet open you debated on what to wear when you heard a voice from the other side of the wall.

“Hi ma… Things are good… and Dad…”

He must have been walking around the apartment as you heard most of the words.

“I know…Leaving now…”

You heard the undoing of his locks and the front door creaking open. Shit! Your first moment to speak to the Music Man alone and you’re standing in your underwear. There’s definitely no way you would approach him now. Instead you raced to the door to try and catch a glimpse of what he looked like but it was too late.

Huffing in frustration you continued to get dressed and within fifteen minutes you were ready to leave. The elevator dinged as you shut your door, inserting your key to turn the deadbolt, unaware of the form that was moving closer towards you, not until you heard the whistling of a familiar tune.

Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, as if that tune was part of a psychological experiment, like Pavlov’s dog but instead of salivating you wanted to punch something.

“Hey neighbor.”

The soft voice of the Music Man broke you from your vision of punching through your shared wall and destroying his instruments. With a calming inhale you turned around to face him.

“I’m Bucky.”

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. The breath was stolen from your lungs as you stared directly into the kindest, bluest eyes you had ever seen. All the anger left your body, replaced by the softness of his pink lips that reminded you of flowers in full bloom.

He was tall and lean, but your eyes did not miss the bulge of his biceps that showed through his cotton t-shirt. In his hand was a coffee cup, gripped under his long fingers. His hair was dark and pulled back into a low sloppy bun, with a loose piece falling beside his smile.

His hand was extended towards you and you weren’t sure how long it had been. It felt like you were staring at him for hours, or was it only seconds. Did time really stop moving the moment you finally saw him? You broke yourself out of your trance to shake his hand and introduce yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I just moved in. Well not just, but not long ago,” Bucky said.

Yeah I know. I hear you every night. You remembered your frustration and tried to assemble the sentence in your head of how to confront him.

“You ever get coffee from the place on the corner?” he asked, gesturing to the cup in his hand. “The line was crazy long but worth it, it’s delicious.”

“Yeah, once or twice but I’m usually at the Grind House. They’re open late and that’s where I have to go to study because… uh…” you stammered for a moment, “...your guitar playing is too distracting.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, wondering why you felt uncomfortable when he was the one who was being a bad neighbor.

Bucky’s face dropped with guilt. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

“It’s alright,” you lied, not knowing why you said that. Pulling more confidence out of midair you continued, “It’s just that the walls are so thin and I’m in school, well I work full time too, but I’ve just got a lot on my plate and honestly I’m not sure how much longer I can afford the coffee shop every night.”

You chuckled to lighten up the conversation, continuing to ramble before giving him a chance to speak. “So, um, if you wouldn’t mind, maybe you could practice during the day instead or weekends are mostly fine. I’m actually heading to class now so I’ll be gone all day.” Great, give him your whole schedule why don’t you.

With nerves getting the better of you, you turned on your heel quickly saying it was nice to meet him. Briskly making your way towards the elevator you pressed the button furiously in hopes it would get to your floor faster.

Once inside you let out a big sigh and waved your hand in front of your slightly sweaty, heated face. Bucky seemed like he genuinely wasn’t aware of the noise he was making, and the way you passive aggressively called him out on it made you feel like shit.

But what was worse was knowing there was a face, a drop dead gorgeous face that is responsible for making the women of New York scream in ecstasy every night. It was going to be very difficult to concentrate in class today.

Getting home later that afternoon you were anxious to make something to eat, but more anxious about Bucky, hoping you wouldn’t run into him again. As you opened your door your foot slid on something and as you looked down you saw a small envelope with your name written on it.

Inside was a $50 gift card to The Grind House with a little note. I’m truly sorry about the noise. –Bucky

Your mouth opened in shock at the realization that Bucky did this nice gesture for you, and worse, you were going to have to thank him.

PART 3

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

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onebatch2batch · 4 years ago

Note

kastle + "“Is that.. my shirt?” please and thank you❤️❤️

HI, I KNOW YOU SENT THIS A MILLION YEARS AGO BUT I JUST FINISHED IT SO HOPEFULLY YOU LIKE IT <3

If there’s one thing Karen hates most in the world, it’s laundry. Which isn’t entirely warranted, because a majority of her things are dry clean only, and she usually only has to do a load or two herself every other week—but still. She hates that it feels like an all day affair, she hates folding everything, she hates the feel of the lint of her fingers when she removes it from the filter. So when a warm Saturday in June arrives and she’s low on clothes, like really low on clothes, Karen realizes she should start a load.

Unfortunately, her body is not on board with the idea. She wakes up slow, eats some late breakfast, and lethargically gathers the clothes strewn about her apartment. It’s a Saturday, so she has nothing to do but procrastinate. Procrastination forces her into the shower, and procrastination has her drinking coffee in a towel at the edge of her bed as she realizes that she has nothing to put on. It’s either she wears a skirt and blouse around the apartment or a towel until the first load is done.

Or, her brain supplies helpfully, there’s Frank’s drawer.

Karen’s eyes slide unwittingly towards her dresser, where the bottom drawer remains firmly closed. He’s been out of town for the last week or so with Curtis, up in the mountains with absolutely no reception. She knows it’s good for him to get away every once in a while, especially with his friends, but part of her—the smallest part, the only part not thinly veiled in denial—wishes he would have asked her along. It’s a thought she’s had a lot in the last couple days, accompanied by the hollow ache left by his absence.

God, she misses him.

She misses his surprise visits that turn into too much wine and inevitably leading to his crashing on the couch. She misses waking in the morning to freshly brewed coffee and he at the kitchen counter, head bowed over a book. She misses walking into the bathroom and inhaling Frank’s steamy post-shower smell: cedarwood, something earthy, something subtly metallic. It’s both a blessing and a curse to have him stay the night at her place; she only wishes it was in her bed, not on the couch.

Karen sighs. Goosebumps are starting to pebble on her skin from the AC, and so she steels her resolve and kneels before Frank’s drawer. She’d casually offered it to him months ago over breakfast. You spend the night enough, she tells him while staring resolutely into her mug. Might as well have a change of clothes here just in case you need them.

She had felt his eyes on her, all intense heat and wariness, long enough for her to fidget. And then finally he’d said: Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Karen.

The drawer is filled with a myriad of things, and not just clothes. On the top of the pile there’s a paperback by Jack Kerouac, a box of ammo, and a pair of spare keys she suspects is to that intimidating black van he drives. Underneath is a pair of socks, boxers (that she hurriedly paws past), some grey sweatpants (that look absolutely sinful on him, she recalls), and a pair of dark jeans. At the very bottom is a long sleeved henley and a plain black t shirt—Karen pulls out the t shirt and slips it over her head before she can talk herself out of it.

It’s comfortable, if a little too big. The hem hangs just past her hips when she stands, so Karen slips on a pair of underwear and leaves it at that. The rest of the afternoon she spends doing laundry and pretending as if she can’t smell him on her with every inhale. And when the guilt starts to eat at her, she tells herself that the shirt will be cleaned and replaced before Frank even knows it’s missing.

—

Except it isn’t, because of course it isn’t.

Hour three of dragging herself through the slowest washing machine cycle in the world (she’d splurged a little on an apartment with a hook up, too unwilling to deal with the laundromat down the block) and the worst dryer to accompany it (she hadn’t so much splurged on the actual machines)—finds Karen on the couch, flipping through the television channels. It’s nearly four o’clock and the temperature outside has finally broken, so the air is off and the windows are open. A soft breeze occasionally brushes over the exposed skin of her legs. And there’s absolutely nothing on the television.

So she does what any sane person would do, and returns to Frank’s drawer for the book. Not that she doesn’t have plenty of her own reading material, but she’s never read Kerouac and she’s a little curious what Frank sees in him. It’s halfway through the first chapter that she realizes there’s a key turning in the lock, and that Frank’s back.

Because of course he would walk in to this: her, clothed in underwear and his t shirt and no bra; sitting with her legs stretched across the couch cushions, back against the arm; his book in her hands as she struggles to parse the casual run-ons of Kerouac; a basket of half folded laundry on the floor. And he does—his face appears at the end of the hall leading to her front door and he pauses, bag slung over his shoulders and eyebrows raised to his hair.

“Hi, Frank,” Karen greets, carefully closing the book. “How was your trip?”

His eyes glance quickly at her exposed legs, and then up to his t shirt, back down to her legs, and then up to her face. Karen relishes in the warm flush that spreads across his cheeks, even if it is partially covered by his beard. “It was, uh, it was good,” he tells her roughly, unmoving. His eyes stray back to her lower half. “Is that...my shirt?”

Karen realizes that she should be embarrassed by her lack of clothes or admonished for going through his things without asking. But the only thing she really can feel is frustrated as a thought strikes her. That day in the hospital when she and Frank were alone--before Amy had interrupted--after Karen had all but blurted her feelings into the stale, tension-heavy room. His entire body had been covered in lacerations and zig zagged with stitches; his face was bruised and battered. He’d been so evasive with her, gaze hardly connecting with her own before darting away again. She’d been so afraid for him. Hopeless. And frustrated.

“You could love someone else instead of another war.”

“I don’t want to.”

At the time he’d been so determined, so set in his jaw as the hoarse declaration hung in the air. She wonders if that’s changed now, months of spending the night and phone calls and take out dinners later. If she were to ask the same question now—what he would say?

“It is,” she tells him evenly.

Frank’s hand tightens on the strap of his bag, a nervous gesture. “Why?” he finally asks.

“I haven’t been pining after you, if that's what you mean. I was out of clothes.” Karen offers him a small smile, trying to quell the bout of butterflies that erupt in her stomach at the rough edge to his voice.

To her relief he smiles. The tension eases from his shoulders. “You don’t seem like the pinin’ type.”

“I’m not.” Liar, liar, no pants on fire. “You just got back?”

He nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Was thinking about gettin’ dinner.”

“You find the take out menu, I’ll put pants on,” she wages.

Frank’s blush rises. He coughs and then turns, walking into the kitchen at a pace quicker than usual. Karen fidgets with the hem of the shirt, waiting until she can hear the telling sound of the coffee machine being manhandled. She grapples for a pair of leggings in the basket beside her and hurriedly puts them on.

“Sorry about the shirt,” she says loudly. “I was completely out of laundry and I figured you wouldn’t be back for a while. I’ll wash it for you.”

Frank reappears in the doorway, eyes on the floor until he’s sure she’s fully clothed. “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles. “It’s nothin’.”

“I went into your things, Frank, I hardly think that’s nothing.”

At that, he meets her gaze.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he counters, shooting her a grin.

Karen huffs out a laugh. “Whatever. Hang on, I’m going to change out of this and then I'll order the food.”

“No.”

Karen swivels her head to give Frank a surprised look. The intensity of his no is startling but he seems as shocked as she is. There’s a beat of silence, and then he clears his throat and looks away as his finger starts that familiar rhythm against his leg. “I mean. You don’t have to. If you’re comfortable.”

She considers pushing it. She doesn’t. Not yet.

“I am. Thanks.”

—

Several hours later, Karen realizes their bottle of wine is empty. She’s sitting against one arm of the couch with Frank against the other. Her legs bridge the gap between them, and if she were to point her toes she could touch the strong muscle of his thigh. Their take out boxes sit empty on the coffee table, and Frank has his head tilted back, eyes on the ceiling. The apartment is quiet.

“So what did you and Curtis do in the mountains?” Karen asks into the silence, hesitant to break it but curiosity finally getting the better of her.

Frank sips his wine, and then turns his head to look at her. Karen is struck by how handsome he looks, the setting sun’s orange rays highlighting the curve of his nose and the warmth of his eyes. “Stupid shit,” he tells her with a chuckle. “We chopped up some trees, went hikin’--that asshole’s still faster’n me even with that leg--I read a lot. Talked. Drank some.”

Karen waggles her eyebrows. “Does that mean you guys got hammered in a cabin?”

His mouth curves into an amused smile. “Takes a lot to get me hammered, Karen.”

“When’s the last time you were?”

Karen is always careful about asking questions regarding his past. She knows it’s dangerous territory--one small slip could turn their conversation from lighthearted banter to emotional warfare. That’s the last thing she wants for him, for them.

Thankfully, Frank has a quick answer. “Can’t remember. Years.”

She hums, curiosity piqued. She wonders what an overabundance of alcohol does to someone like Frank Castle--someone who is already so intense, so physical. Someone who already isn’t afraid to cry in front of her, who isn’t afraid to show emotion--would he close himself off, shut down? Would he laugh more? Would he touch her more than the casual touches she already receives? Would he kiss her? A thrill runs through her at the thought. She stays firmly planted on the couch, fighting the urge to grab the whiskey in her cupboard and put her theory to the test.

“What about you?”

“What?”

Frank fixes her with an amused look. “The last time you were sideways.”

“Oh. A couple weekends ago, Foggy came over.” She smiles, remembering. “Marcie was out of town so he brought over the wine and we did--well, this. Take out and wine. A lot of wine.”

There’s an expression on his face she can’t figure out. A mixture of forced casualness, of caution, of amusement. “So this is--...” He pauses, takes a drink of his wine, starts again. “This is what you do with your other friends?”

Two thoughts settle into the sudden ache in her chest at his words. That on one hand he does, in fact, consider her a friend. She’s not just a warm body to keep the loneliness at bay. Which she’s known that for a long time, of course. They trust each other in the way that only two people who have gone through a number of life-changing and dangerous ordeals together can--why wouldn’t they be friends? The second thought is how carefully he speaks the word friends, as if solidifying the idea. As if reminding her of their relationship status. As if to say, we’re friends, and I know you want more--but I can’t. So we’re friends.

“Yep. This is what I do with my other friends. All two of them.” The joke falls flat, overshadowed by the catch in her voice. Karen finishes off her glass of wine and decides she will get out the whiskey after all. Even if he doesn’t drink it, she needs something a little stronger than just another Rosé. She starts to get up, but his hand catches her ankle and keeps her firmly in place.

“You’re upset.” He looks at her cautiously from under a furrowed brow. His hand doesn’t lift from her skin, and it sends an unfair thrill through her. Karen’s toes curl before she can stop them, pushing against his thigh.

“I’m not upset.”

He frowns. “And now you’re lying. Did I say somethin’?”

She doesn’t want to lie to him. She also doesn’t want to tell him the truth. There’s a nagging thought in the back of her mind that says if she’s honest with him, he’ll be scared off. He’ll decide her feelings are too much for him to handle, and then he’ll leave. Again.

Her heart couldn’t bear it.

Karen tugs her leg out of his grasp and sets her feet on the carpet. He sits forward, trying to capture her eyes again. “Karen,” he says gently. It’s cautious and worried, and so completely Frank in the way he grinds out her name that the words escape her before she can stop them.

“It’s nothing, Frank. We’re friends, and that’s all, and I’m being selfish wanting more. I’ve just been--I’m not trying to--...” she glances over helplessly, but he’s giving her a look that she can only describe as stricken. She looks away quickly, desperate for a change of topic. Desperate to pull herself out of the hole that she’s dug for herself. There’s a brief moment of silence where she tries to decide what to do, outside of leaping from her fire escape, and then she hears Frank move. The cushion dips next to her. Warm fingers intertwine with her own, and then his lips are pressed to the back of her hand.

“Shit, Karen,” Frank murmurs, exasperated. “For a smart woman, you’re bein’ pretty stupid.”

She’s still stuck on her fact that his breath is dancing over her skin, and that he’s pressed against her side, and that he still hasn’t released her. That he hasn’t gotten up and made a hasty exit. His words barely register. “What?” she asks weakly.

“Curtis and I did a lot of talkin’ this weekend,” he says, staring to look her in the eye. The sudden change of topic throws her off balance. Before she can get a word in, he’s continued on. His thumb strokes her palm. “And a lot of it was dumb shit. We talked about his new apartment, the one he had to get after Billy shot up his old one. He says it gets a lot of sunlight. He talked about how the vet group is going and what team he thinks will win the World Series this year. It was good, and easy. We talk about some hard stuff too. We talked about Maria and the kids, and the war, and you.”

She’s not sure she likes being in the ‘hard’ category, but he seems to be edging towards a point, so Karen remains quiet.

“And after we talked through all that other stuff, Curtis told me I was bein’ an idiot. He told me that you’re a good woman, and an even better friend. That I needed to make a decision before someone else made it for me.” He pauses, looking away. In the following silence, she digests his words and tries to keep the hope from blossoming in her chest. His hand is still warm in hers, and the earthy, woodsy smell of him fills her nose.

He doesn’t speak long enough for Karen to finally hedge, “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Frank.”

He turns back to her and offers a tiny, nervous smile. Not many things make a man like Frank Castle nervous, and the thought eases some of the tension from her body. She grips his fingers and holds her breath.

“I’m tryin’ to tell you that I’m yours, if you’ll have me. I don’t want to be friends, Karen. I want you. I want more, too.”

In retrospect, her next words could have been a little more eloquent. She could have taken an extra second to think of something romantic and elated. Something that matches his earnestness. What she actually says is, “Frank Castle, you’d better quit keeping me waiting and kiss me.”

His eyes widen briefly, and then he’s grinning at her. His free hand cradles her cheek and between one breath and another he’s doing just that. Karen wont admit to herself how often she thought of this moment, but she does think about how every imagining doesn’t come close. She never could have pictured the tenderness with which he kisses her or the feeling that swells inside her. There’s no daydream in the world that compares to the softness of his lips or the sensation of his beard against her chin. She fists one hand in his coat, letting the other drift up into his hair. It’s longer, curling at his temple, and when she gently tugs he lets out a groan that makes her shiver. His tongue swipes at her bottom lip and she grants him access eagerly. The kiss devolves into wandering hands, heaving breaths, and the distinct feeling that Karen is being carefully, intimately devoured.

After some time, Karen forces herself to pull away. Frank backs off immediately, a flash of concern in his gaze, but she gives him a small smirk, smoothing her hands over the hard planes of his chest.

“How do you feel about me taking off the shirt now?” she asks casually.

Her meaning sinks in quickly. His fingers grasp at the hem, dancing along the bare skin on her hips. Frank gives her a mischievous, sinfully attractive smile. “If you’re comfortable,” he repeats, and then drags his shirt up and over her head.

The buzzer on the dryer goes off in the background, but Karen has never been less inclined to attend to it than she is now. In fact, she thinks, if wearing his shirt gets this reaction, I may never do laundry again.

It’s a nice thought, but then Frank lips meet her shoulder and she doesn’t think about laundry for a long, long time.

#kastle #my writing #kastle fic #kastle ff

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youreacowgirllikeme · 4 years ago

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Intoxicated

note: this was a request from @dappertapper69 , I hope you like it :)

words: 4238 (oops)

warning: alcohol, swearing, smut, unprotected sex (pls don’t do that) hope that’s it

“Focus, damn it! “you told yourself, hastily writing down some notes on your tablet before looking back up to where your boss was standing in front of the white board. It was the daily morning meeting, so you still were a bit tired, but that’s what coffee was for and it was certainly not the reason you weren’t able to pay attention.

It was him, your boss. Right now, he was showing some poll graphic, but your eyes were fixed on his muscular arms and rolled up shirt sleeves. He looked so good when dressed casually, the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone, and you desperately wanted to run your hand into the neckline.

Yes, your boss was hot, but he was also really intelligent, kind and funny to no ends. The whole package, and your crush on him was big.

But your boss was also Jake Tapper, the lead anchor of CNN Washington, and there was no way he would ever see you this way. No, he was your mentor, and you basically owed everything you had right now to him.

You’ve met about a year ago at a debate Jake was moderating. Covering the event had been the first major job you’ve gotten from the newspaper you we’re working at back then, and while you weren’t really satisfied with print media, you had to take what you could. But meeting Jake had changed your life for real. You had started talking about what you were currently writing about, and you showed him some of the freelance articles you had done in for various political blogs.

He had liked your work, you exchanged numbers and two weeks later, a job offer from CNN Washington was on your desk, assistant producer for The Lead with Jake Tapper. You had to read the letter three times before actually believing it. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and you had no doubt who was behind it.

You didn’t hesitate for a moment, you directly called Jake to confirm, and two weeks later you were all packed up and ready to move to DC.

Jake went above and beyond to make sure your transfer was smooth in every sense, he helped you find an apartment, gave you a two-hour long office tour on your first day of work and regularly checked up on you in the first weeks to see if you were adjusting. He still did that, to be honest, even now that you’ve worked here for months and had learned the ropes.

But you didn’t mind at all, you have learned so much from Jake, journalism-wise as well as when it came to politics, history and literature. His general knowledge was so impressive, another thing that made him so ridiculously attractive to you.

But considering all the facts, jeopardizing your entire career by making a move at Jake was just impossible. But Lord, you wanted to.

You were so caught up in daydreaming that you didn’t even notice that the meeting was over, everyone already left except for Jake. He was packing up his stuff and looked over to you.

“Y/N, everything alright. You’ve been really quiet today, and you look exhausted. Is there something you need?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Bless his heart, you thought. There was definitely something you needed from him, but you would not go there. And it wasn’t like you could tell him that the reason for your exhaustion was the wet dream you’ve had of him last night, one that made you wake you up drenched in sweat and with soaked panties, unable to fall asleep again.

So you just dismissed him. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Just a lack of sleep.”

“You know you can always come to me when there is something up.” Jake said, putting his hand on your arm in what was meant to be a friendly gesture, but just got you even more worked up. You had it bad for the man, and that was why needed to get out of this situation right now.

“Of course, I know.” You gave him a tight smile, hoping he would buy it. “But I really need to go now, lots of stuff to do. I’ll see you.”

Later that day, when you were alone in your office booth, you texted your friend who was working in another department of CNN.

I def need to let off some steam tonight. Club? Xx

She texted you back a couple of minutes later.

Run in with the hot boss again? ;) But sure, let’s do it xx

Even though it was a weekday, the club was bursting with people. You already were on your third or fourth round of shots, and the base was humming through your body, blasting away your worries.

You dragged your friend over to the dancefloor when you heard your favorite song starting to play, the alcohol creating a warm and fuzzy sensation you totally got lost in.

+++

When you woke up the next morning, you regretted every decision you ever made. You didn’t remember how you got home last night, and your head felt like someone had smashed it in with a hammer. And on top of all, you were late for work.

When you finally got the office, everyone was already coming out of the morning meeting. You carefully made your way inside the meeting room, where Jake was still packing up his stuff, as always. As you approached him, your heart almost jumped out of your chest, as it usually did when you were alone with him, but now with the added fear of his anger.

But when he glanced up and saw you, he looked…relieved? You were confused, you had expected a telling-off, but he appeared as if he was happy to see you.

“Thank god you’re alright, Y/N, I was so worried when you didn’t show up this morning.”

It was when he took a closer look at you that he noticed your appearance, and undoubtedly sensed the alcohol still lingering. He had a very keen sense of smell, something he told you a while back. You swallowed when you saw his expression shift from friendly to irritated.

“You’re hungover.” He stated matter-of-factly, his voice cold.

“Jake, I’m really sorry, I-“you began to apologize, but he was not having it.

“Look, it’s really none of my business how you decide to spend your free time, but I expect you to act professional when it comes to the job, and that doesn’t include showing up late and hungover. I will let this one slide, but this happens again, and we have a problem, am I clear?” he was definitely angry, and you should be intimidated my that. You really felt remorse, but seeing Jake worked up like that also made your stupid brain come up with thoughts of him throwing you on the desk of the briefing room and working out his frustration on you.

“I said, am I clear?” Jake asked again, you had clearly zoned out again.

“Yes, sure, clear.” You said in a small voice, now immensely ashamed that you had disappointed Jake, after everything he had done for you.

“Again, I am really so sorry.” You called after Jake as he was making his way out of the room, but he just dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

The thoughts you had about Jake didn’t leave your mind for the rest of the day. You wanted him so bad and seeing him constantly when he was so out of reach was getting harder every day. You desperately needed to clear your head, the only way you knew. So, against your better judgement, you texted your friend again, and a couple of hours later you found yourself in the same club, drunk and dancing without a care in the world.

You almost hated how much you needed this, the music, the people surrounding you, the alcohol flowing through your veins, making you forget everything.

You lost count how many drinks you’ve downed, but you lost sight of your friend as well, so you decided to go outside for a smoke and some fresh air.

You picked your phone out of your pocket to message your friend when a fantastic idea hit you.

Why not call Jake? You were having a great time, and it only made sense that you should share it with him, because you really liked him, right?

“Y/N? It’s the middle of the night, what’s wrong, did something happen?” a still sleepy, but increasingly alarmed Jake asked from the other side of the phone.

“Hiii Jake, oh my god, I’m having the best time ever here, it’s so fun, you should come too! C’mon its Friday, you should party a bit.” You basically screamed into your phone, your voice slightly slurred from too many drinks.

“Shit, it’s Friday morning, which means there is still work tomorrow. Wait, are you drunk? Where are you?” Jake asked, his voice was full of anger now, and under normal circumstances you would be really worried about that, but right now, you did not care a single bit.

“Oh, I’m at that great new club downtown, it’s called the red…I can’t remember, something with red, and the people are so nice, but I lost my friend, so I think I’m going home soon.” You rambled on, the alcohol loosening your tongue.

“There is no way in hell you’re going home like this, Y/N. You stay right where you are, I’m coming.”He definitely sounded infuriated now, and even your intoxicated brain understood the instructions.

“Alright, Jakey, I’ll see you.” But he had already hung up.

You kept aimlessly walking around in front of the club for a while, making drunk small talk with other club goers, when suddenly, someone grabbed your shoulder and yanked you around. It was Jake, tired looking and with a deep frown on his face.

“Jaaaaaake, you came!” You exclaimed and threw your arms around his neck. He stiffened against you and softly pushed you away.

“Y/N, you’re wasted. Come on, I’m getting you home.” He said, voice leaving no room for arguments. He grabbed you by the wrist and basically dragged you to his nearby car, pushing you into the passenger seat. When he leaned over you to buckle your seatbelt, he came incredibly close to you, and again, you spoke without thinking.

“You smell so nice, Jake, like a forest.”

He just gave you a puzzled look and walked around the car to get in the driver’s seat.

The drive to your flat passed in tense silence, you were busy staring at Jakes hands angrily gripping the steering wheel, wondering if they would feel as good around your neck as you imagined. You could feel a tingle between your legs and started squirming a bit, until Jake grabbed your bare tight just below the hem of your skirt and snarled “Stop moving like this, I have to focus on traffic.”

You had to stifle a moan at his rough touch, but if he noticed he didn’t comment on it.

When you finally arrived at your building, Jake had to support you while getting into the elevator and to your door, you weren’t that steady on your feet anymore and by now, more of a tired than a giddy drunk.

“That’s mine.” You said and started fumbling with your keys. “You wanna come inside?”

If you had been sober, you would’ve noticed the pained expression that flashed over Jakes face just before it hardened again.

“No, I certainly won’t come inside, but this is what you are going to do. You will drink a glass of water, brush your teeth and set your alarm, so you will be on time at work tomorrow where we can discuss” he gestured angrily between the two of you “whatever this stunt was. Understood?”

“Yes.” You answered meekly “and thank you for taking me home!” you called, but Jake was already on his way back to the elevator.

+++

When your alarm woke you up only a few hours later, you felt like hell. And that was because you could remember everything. No blissful blackout this time, you were able to recall every vivid, horrible detail of how you had made an absolute fool out of yourself in front of the man you admired most in the world. You owed him one hell of an apology, and you were not really sure how to go about this.

You entered the office like a beaten dog, shoulders hanging and praying to the gods you looked better than you felt. Jake ignored you in the morning briefing, so you stayed behind to face his wrath. When you were finally alone, you spoke first.

“Jake, about last night, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. Not only did I act extremely reckless and unprofessional, but I also took advantage of our friendship, which is something that a value more than anything. I accept whatever repercussion you see fit, I just hope you can see how sorry I am.” By the end of your little speech you were almost crying, your disappointment in yourself and your fear of Jakes reaction were making you physically sick.

Jake stayed silent for what felt like forever, and when he finally spoke, your anxiety was almost killing you. “Yes, I am immensely angry about what happened last night. But most of all I’m worried. The Y/N I know doesn’t act that irresponsible, getting absolutely wasted two nights in a row. I went to talk to your friend down in the sports department earlier this morning. I know, that might be considered unprofessional, but she’s just as worried as I am. She told me you’ve been drinking a lot lately, and always more than you should. What is wrong, Y/N, what are you hiding from me?”

That was the perfect timing to tell him everything, how he was on your mind all the time, how you wanted to kiss him, touch him, be with him in every way possible, so bad that it was keeping you up at night or haunted your dreams. But you couldn’t, there was too much on the line.

“Nothing, work is just stressful, I’ve been working overtime so much; I had to blow off some steam. I’m just sorry I dragged you into this.”

Jake stepped closer to you, and you could feel your heart speed up at the way he was looking at you, something like heated curiosity on his face.

“So, this has nothing to do with the way you threw yourself at me last night, or how you told me I smelled nice?” he asked, his deep voice making goosebumps break out all over your skin. “Or with the fact that you tried to invite me into your apartment?”

“Jake, it’s not how it looks like, I swear. I won’t bother you like this again, ever, I promise.” Your voice starting to become panicked, this couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t know.

But Jake just chuckled and leaned down to whisper into your ear.

“I think I know exactly how this looks, Y/N.”

He took a step back, suddenly looking calm and collected again, as if the moment you just had never happened.

“I have to go now, but I see you tonight. The office party in the bar down the road, you remember? I expect everyone to at least show up for a while.”

Great, you thought, having totally forgotten about the event. You just wanted to curl up in bed and feel sorry for yourself, but obviously that wasn’t in the cards for you today.

And so, a couple of hours later you found yourself in said bar, surrounded by your colleagues. You already had a short talk with your friend, ensuring her that you weren’t mad that she talked to Jake, you were convinced it came from a place of concern.

You kept it at two drinks, but it was enough to lighten your mood a bit. Jake was talking to someone in another corner of the room, and he looked fantastic with a casual blazer and no tie. There were moments when you felt like he was watching you, but you were never able to make eye contact and were too shy to approach him directly.

It got late and people were starting to hit the dancefloor. You decided to give it a go as well, and soon you were totally lost in the music.

Suddenly, you felt a set of strong hands on your hips and the presence of a warm body behind you. You spun around to tell whatever creep decided to grope you to let it go when you saw that it was Jake. He was smirking down at you, moving his body to the music. You weren’t sure what to do, you were incredibly nervous, but having him close felt so good. Deciding to be brave, you just took his hands and put them back on your hips, giving him a small nod. His grin broadened and you could see his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the dancefloor. He pulled you closer until your bodies almost were almost touching, you put your hands around his neck and started to lightly move against him.

Jakes eyes were darkening as he looked down at you, and his grip on your hips tightened noticeable. Being the center of his attention like that, in combination with the pulse of the base and the pleasant warmth of the alcohol in your system made you slightly lightheaded, you felt like you were in your own little bubble, just you and Jake. You started to lightly gyrate your hips, and you could swear that you heard him groan over the sound of the song playing. He pulled you even tighter against his body, by now you were grinding against each other, never leaving each other’s eyes, and your body felt like it was on fire. The tension between the two of you was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Your faces were coming closer and closer to each other, and your heart was basically jumping out of your chest by now, when suddenly, someone burst your bubble.

“Jake, we need you in the studio, there’s been an incident with…” some agitated guy tried to scream over the music, and you couldn’t make out all the words, but the next thing you heard was Jakes voice as he leaned down to address you.

“I have to go for now, but this isn’t over. I’ll see you on Monday.” It sounded promising, and a delicious shudder went down your spine at his words, easing away some of the frustration you felt at being interrupted.

The weekend was long, you didn’t call or text Jake, unsure what to say. So you just tried to distract yourself until it was finally time for work again.

The week started with the usual morning meeting, and you and Jake weren’t even trying to hide the glances you were giving each other. The dynamic between you had definitely shifted, and the tension only increased over the course of the day.

He was purposefully standing closer to you than usual, you let your hand lightly brush against his leg when he was sitting next to you at lunch and during the afternoon shows ad breaks, his eyes were fixed on you, never leaving you out of sight. You looked back, biting your lips and Jakes eyes widened, he looked like he wanted to devour you. You knew that sooner or later you had to face him and address what was going on. So when you got a message from Jake shortly after the show was over, telling you to meet him in his office, you basically ran there.

In front of his door, you took a moment to collect yourself before you knocked and entered.

Jake was leaning against his desk, tie and suit jacked discarded, arms crossed over his chest.

You made your way over to him and when you were close enough, he put his hands on your hips, like he was picking up right where you left it Friday night.

“You know.” He said, and his voice was a bit husky. “I’ve been in quiet the state since our dance Friday night. And your little touches here and there haven’t helped at all.”

He accentuated his words by pulling you flush against his body, and you moaned simultaneously when you felt the evidence of his arousal pressed against your belly.

You smirked and got on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear “I see, now what am I supposed to do about that?”

You pressed a kiss to his neck, and the deep groan he let out was almost sinful.

He reached out to grab your jaw and kissed you in a way that made it clear that he had lost his usually tight control. You held onto him with both arms while he spun you around and probed you up onto his desk, sending papers and pens flying in all directions. No one of you cared.

His hands found their way under your skirt, climbing up until his fingers were stroking over your already soaked panties. He pressed a finger to your covered clit, and you couldn’t suppress a loud moan.

“God, Y/N, how are you already so wet, I have barely touched you.”

“Get on with it then, please.” You groaned, spreading your legs to give him better access. He complied, pushing up your skirt. You lifted your hips so he could swiftly slide your panties down your legs, exposing your glistening center to the cool air of his office.

His fingers crept up your tights again, parting your lips and plunging two digits inside you while his thumb was rubbing your clit in light, circular motions, the pressure creating the most perfect sensation.

“Yesssss.” You hissed and tried to move your hips into the direction of his fingers to increase the friction, this wasn’t nearly enough for you.

“Please Jake, I need more.” You looked up at him and his eyes darkened.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you.” He whispered, withdrew his fingers and opened his fly. He pulled down his trousers and underwear, revealing his cock. You licked your lips at the sight of it, you were definitely going to enjoy this.

“You better come over here right now.” You whispered, and Jake stepped between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance, teasing you.

“Damn, Tapper, fuck me already.” You groaned, and a second later he was thrusting into you in one fluid motion, instantly setting a brutal pace. You slapped your hand over your mouth to suppress the scream that was bursting out of you at the feeling of being filled so roughly. By now, you were almost lying almost flat on his desk, various clutter digging into your back.

Jakes hand were on your hips again, grabbing them tightly while slamming into you over and over. You had to keep your hand pressed to your mouth to prevent your loud cries from spilling out. Jake was hitting a perfect spot deep inside you with each hard thrust and you already knew you wouldn’t last long.

“I’ve been thinking about this for the whole weekend, throwing you on that desk and fucking you.” He growled through his clenched teeth and hearing him talk like that made your arousal spike. You had never seen him so unhinged, and it was glorious.

“You feel so good inside me Jake, so good, please fuck me harder.” You whimpered, and when he deepened his thrusts it only took another moment till you hit your peak with a guttural cry, a disfigured version of Jakes name falling from your lips.

He fucked you through your climax, never slowing down. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead, your mixed breathings and groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the office.

When he reached between your legs to rub your clit again, it almost felt like too much, you were overstimulated, but he was relentless, rubbing and pressing until you were on the edge of another orgasm.

“Jake, ugh, I’m going to come again.” You cried, and when he pinched your bud between his fingers you felt like you died and went to heaven. The walls of your pussy were fluttering and clenching down onto his cock as you hit your second peak, this time dragging Jake along with you over the edge. He gave one last forceful thrust and released himself deep inside you with a growl.

After he pulled out, Jake helped you get up from the desk and pulled you against his chest.

“You should have told me earlier.” He said, voice still slightly breathless. “How you felt.”

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes.

“I wish I had.” You answered. “Would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“What is this too you?” he asked, his voice strangely emotional “What do you want from this?”

“I want you. If you’ll have me?”

The kiss he gave you in response was all the answer you needed.

#jake tapper #cnn #cnn anchors #jake tapper x reader #jake tapper fic #fanfiction #cnn fic #smut

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

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All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 5 ~Rollover Rollo~

Previously in Revelations and Snogs

"You want to see me again?" she teased, smiling.

"I dinnae even want to leave ye tonight."

She dropped her head down to hide the heat creeping up her face. "I'll see what's Annalise is up to and we'll take it from there. I'll either call you or send a message."

He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. "Ye're not mad I kissed ye? I havenae forgotten yer rules about first dates."

Claire picked up the gift bags, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. And then she smiled. "I'm starting to believe the rules don't apply to you. Good night, Jamie." And with that, she turned around and walked towards the cottage without looking back, knowing full well Jamie was still stood there waiting for her until she'd safely made it to the house.

Once inside, she allowed herself to slide down to the floor and relived the memory of their first kiss. And she sat there for a very long time.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Yawning, he stretched himself until his joints popped. When he glanced at his bedside clock, he realised it was only seven a.m. As per usual, Jamie hardly slept a wink, but this time around, he didn't feel depleted nor on edge. If anything, he felt refreshed and energised. There was nowhere to rush to as his and his brother's business was closed for the holidays; nevertheless, he decided to get up and feed his dog, Rollo and get a few moments alone before the day started.

Most nights, he'd wake up to his own cries, his body drenched in perspiration and he'd find himself on the floor on his knees, breathing heavily as the feeling of panic took over. Raw terror and uncontrollable fear would course through his body, blurring his surroundings and any coherent thoughts. His only primary focus would be to fight for air, attempting to slow his breathing as his heart furiously pounded out of rhythm, making it seem like it was about to explode in his chest. He didn't have any idea how long the attacks took, only that it happened most nights and in loud, overly-crowded places.

Last night had been different though. Instead of visions of horrors that plagued his dreams, he'd tossed and turned in his bed thinking of Claire. Images of her and their night together preoccupied his mind causing all sorts of emotions to poke his heart. Unknowingly, she'd gently nudged his past out of him which was a rare occurrence, as he seldom talked about it to anyone other than his older brother. It had been so easy to confide, and it came as natural as breathing. In such a short time, she'd kindled something inside him he hadn't known breathed, and made him feel alive again. When she'd heard his story, there were none of the affected looks of horror or sympathy he'd expected, nor did she give him any special treatment. She'd shared her thoughts with a silent understanding and compassion and moved on as if she knew they were treading over a delicate subject.

Shoving his duvet aside, Jamie padded to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, relishing the warm stinging spray on his skin. Minutes later, after towelling off, he put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie. He hummed under his breath as he walked into the kitchen, knowing there was a lot to look forward to. Mainly spending time with Claire again. Feeling optimistic, he was grateful for the blessed respite from his night time terrors and counted himself lucky.

After all, he was the lucky one, wasn't he?

He was alive, and he'd dodged the bullets.

Simon MacKimmie hadn't.

And he'd broken his promise.

He went over the scenario again, wondering if he'd just been a little quicker, shaving a few precious minutes, would Simon still be alive today?

As for his friend's wife, had he given up too soon on Laoghaire? He hadn't stayed around to find out and hear the rest of the story after the lass admitted to cheating. Maybe he should have talked to her and listened to her side of the account, instead of speculating why she did what she did. If he'd done that, would it have absolved him of his guilt?

He knew it was futile to keep rehashing the past events in his head. He'd already decided the best way forward was to embrace the natural process of grief and guilt even though his therapist wanted him to use every textbook solution that was out there and take the prescribed pills to dull the pain. He wasn't a fan of medication that you popped into the mouth and believed in a more organic healing approach which was why he came home to stay, surrounded by familiar faces in an environment he loved. Even if he would recover, he knew he couldn't go back to his old life as a part of him had died with Simon.

The sound of scrambling paws on the wooden floor brought him out of his reflections. His furry housemate and companion, Rollo, appeared around the corner and headed straight for him.

"Hiya mate, sae sorry was late last night." He patted the husky's head to smooth the white-grey fur, and in return, he got a gentle lick and prod with a wet snout to his hand. "I met a lass down at the pub and hardly noticed the time. Her name is Claire. I think ye'll like her."

Rollo's grey eyes flashed with understanding. "We'll go for a run later as soon as I know what she's up to. But first, coffee for me while ye go and do yer business."

Rollo cocked his head and nodded.

He opened the backdoor kitchen to let the dog out as a blast of chilly wind caused him to shiver, but Rollo only twitched his nose, barked twice, and ran off.

He laughed out loud at Rollo's outright joy of freedom, racing over to the grass to a favourite tree, and doing laps around the gnarled trunk and then disappearing behind the shed. A deep sense of peace settled over him as he closed the door behind him and turned on his coffee machine. His cottage might be small, and his yard less than half an acre, but he'd managed to create a home on his own terms.

Rollo had been Willie's idea after he was diagnosed with PTSD. His brother believed, human and animal bonding could help alleviate the aftermath of his trauma and aide with his healing. Willie was right. When Rollo had walked out of the rescue centre and into his arms, it had been love at first sight, and they'd been constant companions ever since. Rollo would soothe him when he had one of his episodes, the low whimper and touch of fur and wetness pressed against the side of his head calming him down in the dead of night. Laoghaire hadn't like the idea of the dog near her, but keeping Rollo was something he remained adamant about.

Jamie headed towards the pantry, grabbed a sack of dog food and filled the doggy bowl with biscuits, ready for when Rollo returned from his morning business. As he brought his coffee over to the table, he checked his phone. There were a few messages from his shinty teammates asking about Claire, probably prodded by their wives or girlfriends, eager to hear some juicy news to gossip about.

He remembered catching some side-eyed looks as he and Claire had browsed through the stalls at the Christmas market last night and it was only a matter of time before everyone knew and started asking questions. When the phone rang, he quickly grabbed it. It was his brother-in-law, Ian. Ah, fuck! It meant Jenny must have heard.

Knowing there was no avoiding it, Jamie answered his phone. "Hey, aren't ye up way too early on holiday? How's the weather in the south of France?"

Ian chuckled. "Never mind that. I'm calling to give ye a heads up."

"On what?" he asked casually, pretending not to know what Ian was on about as he sipped his coffee.

"Mary called Jenny last night, and they were on speaker, so heard the whole thing. Mary gave Jenny a rundown about the lassie ye were out with yesterday."

He ran a hand down his face. "Nosey git! Why does everyone have to know about my business or take an interest?"

"Aye, I said so too myself. Anyway, thought I'd let ye know. I told Jenny already no' to interfere with yer affairs, but ye ken what yer sister is like. She's worried about ye ..." Ian paused before letting out a sigh. "So go easy on her if she asks too many questions."

Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll be gentle, but I'm still telling her how it is. I'm a thirty-year-old man for God's sake, and I dinnae need her telling me how to run my life."

"Aye, I know. So, what's up with the lass?"

Jamie groaned. "Nought! I just met her last night. Went out for a few drinks and then I dropped her at Mrs Fitz's."

"Good. Like what ye said, it's naebody's business."

"Aye, remind yer wife that, please."

Ian laughed. "Telling her that would be like talking to a brick wall. Okay, got to go. I think Jenny just woke up. Talk soon ..."

The call ended.

Jamie let out a long breath. Jenny's friend must have mentioned about Claire being from London. His sister remembered only too well what had happened to him last time he was in a city.

He'd been in Glasgow to visit a mate and was nearly in an accident after he had one of his episodes while crossing a junction. He'd fallen on to his knees, putting traffic into a standstill, while passersby thought he was just another city junkie, going off his nuts. He'd hoped his fits were behind him, but it seemed they lurked in the background like the monsters under the bed that had kept him up at night waiting for the right time to pounce. If it hadn't been for the kind middle-aged English man, called Harry, stopping to his aid, he wondered what would have happened. Harry had taken him to the hospital, called his family, took his number and then disappeared.

Once in a while, he would get a call from Harry to check up on his well-being, but every time they talked, Jamie forgot to ask for the man's number, as it didn't show on his phone. It would have been good to know where the Englishman lived so he could send a Christmas card or a souvenir from Scotland. His parents had insisted on inviting Harry to Lallybroch, and every time he relayed the message, the man politely refused.

Jamie let out a resigned breath through his nose and refilled his cup with coffee. Jenny was right about one thing she'd kept on about to him. He wouldn't be able to survive in the city for more than a few hours. But where did that leave his chances of forging a relationship with Claire, the only woman to ever affect him the way she did? He was unsuitable for the outside world, and everyone in Broch Mordha knew it.

He knew Claire was aware of their attraction by the way she often blushed at his teasing and subtly responded to his kiss last night but would that be enough to convince her to stay? Could she envision herself staying for an unforeseeable future to find out what it was between them? What would that mean for her career? Her dreams? It was early days yet, and they'd only just met. She was here until the Three Kings, and that's if she managed to persuade Annalise to stay and anything could happen between now and then.

He browsed the internet in his laptop, scanning through headline news and answering a few emails. After a while, he wondered where his dog was. Normally, he would be scratching at the door by now, wanting his breakfast. Maybe he got distracted by a critter and went off running across the field. He thought he'd give his dog a few more minutes and then he would go out and look. He had another cup of coffee and answered a few text messages all the while checking the time. He was just tying his running shoes when his phone chirped. He glanced at the screen and smiled.

Claire: Good morning! If I woke you up, I'm terribly sorry. But I did say I would send you a message. So here I am texting you.

He quickly toed off his shoes, grabbed his coffee and went to the living room. Cup in his hand, he settled himself down on the sofa with a grin.

Jamie: I'm up. May I call you?

Claire: Of course.

He placed his coffee on the table, hit the phone icon and pressed the phone to his ear. "G'morning Sassenach. Did ye sleep well?" he asked when Claire picked up.

She groaned. "Not really. I might have over-indulged with the alcohol last night. I slept fitfully."

"Were ye thinking about the kiss?" He leaned back on the sofa, put his arm behind his head and smiled.

She didn't respond, but he heard something rustling. There must have been an eye-roll in the ensuing pause.

"Was it that bad, huh?"

"No! I ...was ... I'm sorry, I was trying to unwrap something. Anyway, Annalise hasn't shown up yet."

He knew she was trying to avoid the question and decided not to push. "Oh! Have ye tried calling her?"

"She called already, and she told me she's fine. She stayed in Lallybroch with Willie. She said no taxis were running late at night, and they hadn't noticed the time and your brother couldn't drive because he's had a bit to drink. From what I gathered, Lallybroch is your family home, right?"

That canny bastard! Willie knew taxis didn't come to Lallybroch after ten p.m. and with his parents staying for the night at his aunt Jocasta's house and his sister and brother-in-law away on holiday in the south of France, Willie and Annalise had the manor house to themselves. "Aye, it is our family home," he finally answered. "It's where I grew up. Was Annalise annoyed?"

"Annoyed?" She sounded surprised. "Why should she be annoyed?"

"Weel, she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with my brother, and they've just met. I figured the situation might have unnerved her. "

"No, she wasn't annoyed. If anything, she sounded chipper and was quite chatty. She's normally a morning grump." And then she laughed. "I think having your driving licences sent to Geillis put her mind at ease and felt safe enough to go with your brother. As I did with you too." She said the last sentence almost shyly and quietly.

"I'm glad." Jamie let out a sigh of relief but not before he moved the phone away. He knew he would have been at a disadvantage if Annalise had been miffed about being stranded in Lallybroch. Not that his family's home was far, but it was slightly isolated from the village, and it was two and a half miles away. Without proper street lighting between Lallybroch and Broch Mordha and the temperatures freezing, it would have been an uncomfortable walk back. Fingers-crossed, he hoped Willie and Annalise were getting along fine because it would mean Claire's friend would agree to stay here for their holidays. "So what are yer plans today?"

"Hmmm ...let me see ..."

Her tone was playful, and he could envision a pretty blush creeping from her neck and fanning out to her face. "I hope I'm included in those plans."

"Don't fret. You are." He heard a smile in her voice. "I'm just waiting for Annalise to finally show her face, so I have a clear idea of how the day is supposed to pan out."

He grinned. "Good. Did Annalise tell you what they've been up to?"

"Oh, yes." Jamie heard shuffling in the background again and wondered if she was still in bed and what she was wearing. "She told me they had a quiet evening playing a board game and drinking red wine. Sounds like we had a more exciting evening."

"A board game?"

"Yes. It's funny, really when I think about it. Annalise is more likely to hang out in a crowded place until late. I can't believe she missed the karaoke that was posted in the pub. She loves to sing, and she really has a good voice and ..."

Grabbing his cup, he took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat. "What kind of board game?"

"Umm ...let me think. Annalise said it belongs to your sister and her husband and it sounded something like Monopoly. She said they played for hours."

He almost choked on his coffee. Ah, fuck ...Willie!

"You alright?"

"A-aye." He was glad Claire couldn't see the heat spreading across his face. "C-coffee went in the wrong passage," he managed to say.

She let out an adorable giggle, and he heard more shuffling and rustling sound on her end. "Anyway, she kind of explained it roughly and said it has cards and dice. So that's probably why I thought of Monopoly. Hey, maybe we could play it with them. What do you think?"

Ah, bloody hell! "It's Monogamy ..." he wheezed, putting his cup down on the table and thumping his chest.

Ah, Jesus Christ!�� Monogamy board game was a two-player game played by couples with raunchy questions and challenges. He'd found it one night in the hallway cupboard when his family had friends over and was looking for Trivial Pursuit for a night of indoor entertainment. It was hidden behind the stack of other games covered in cloth and labelled "Jenny's and Ian's - Do Not Touch." He hadn't realised Willie knew about it. The thought of him and Claire playing it made him hot. He wondered what Claire would think if she knew what it really was.

"Hang on a minute!" He took a few breaths and gulped down the rest of his drink. When he was sure his voice sounded normal again, he grabbed his phone and spoke. "Have ye had breakfast?" he asked, not bothering to answer Claire's question. "I can make us something in a jiffy. I haven't had anything to eat yet."

"Oh, thanks, but I'm having one right now with this handsome chap ..."

He jolted forward and straightened up. "I beg yer pardon?" Is she teasing me, or is she having breakfast with another bloke while talking to me?

"Oh, um, I'm with a company, actually and I'm waiting for Mrs Fitz to see what we could do about this situation. You see, I got up early, and I read in one of Mrs Fitz's pamphlet, Baker's Dozen was open at seven. So I went for a walk and bought some croissants. On the way back, I met this gorgeous looking fella with the most beautiful grey eyes, and he looked hungry and was following me, so I invited him to have breakfast ..."

"Sassenach!"

"Wot?"

Are ye bloody kidding me? "Ye cannae just invite someone ye dinnae ken to breakfast just because he looked hungry ..."

"Don't be daft ...he's a charming, cuddly, adorable looking boy."

"Sassenach ..." His voice sounded whiny to his ears. Ah, fuck! He wondered who she was having breakfast with, and his mind was already racing, trying to think who could possibly have followed Claire. When he couldn't think of anyone, he shot to his feet and started to shove them back into his running shoes. "I'm coming over right now."

"No, you're not."

"Why not?"

"I'm in my bathrobe."

His heart started to beat faster. Is this woman who I happen to really like deliriously mad? "Wh-what? Ye went to the baker's in yer bathrobe?"

"No, silly! It's too cold to be wandering about in a bathrobe. When I got back, I made myself comfortable and dressed down. I have a bath running and will take one soon. But meanwhile, I'm having a bit of breakfast. The water pressure here is not too great, and it's taking ages for the tub to fill up. Don't worry, my guest is very well behaved."

"Behaved?"

"Yeah, he occasionally likes to lick my hand but other than that, he's actually quite mild-mannered."

"Who's with ye, Sassenach?" he asked in a low voice, as he got up from the sofa and made his way to the kitchen. He looked out the window, and when he couldn't see Rollo, he began to grow suspicious.

"Hang on a minute, there's a tag attached to his collar. Umm ...let's see, what do we have here? His name is Rollo."

"That's my dog!"

She let out a throaty laugh. "Oh, that's fine then! I'll keep him with me until I'm done with my bath. And then I'll bring him over to you."

"Why didn't ye tell me it's a dog ye're with?"

"Did I not? I'm sorry I was distracted feeding him croissant with butter. I hope that's alright with you."

"I thought you were having breakfast with another man in yer bathrobe!" His voice held a slightly accusatory tone.

"Well, you thought wrong. So, you're alright with Rollo having croissant with butter? He seems to love it."

He counted backwards, starting from ten, and when he was done, he almost laughed out loud. Knowing Claire didn't mind having his dog around her, made him like her even more. "Aye, that's alright, Sassenach. A wee treat once in a while, never did him harm. Speaking of treats, I could use one too actually."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I'm coming over to tell ye." And then he hung up before she could respond and made a dash out of the door.

Dear Readers,

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. I made a massive effort to finish it tonight as I really want certain parts of the story to coincide with Christmas. It was a huge challenge, but I got there in the end. The rest of this story is is outlined and ready to be written, and I'm quite excited about it. All I need is to make it come alive in my storytelling. I'm so chuffed about some certain elements (sorry not going to divulge) that I have come up with, I had a proper good girly squeal earlier. Now that I have said it, I hope I haven't set the expectation too high. Just needed to overshare my excitement. haha!

Anyway, thanks muchly for your feedback, kudos and love for the previous chapter. Sending you back best wishes and hope you're all well and healthy. Take care for now. x

#melodyheart #all I want for christmas is you #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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buckthegrump · 4 years ago

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I’ve Been Trying Hard Not To Talk To You - 3

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n hates Bucky Barnes. Absolutely loathes him what makes it worse is that she has to share her office with him. Now with a promotion on the horizon she has to find a way to work with him and not against him.

Warnings: Angst (kind of), it’s an enemies to loves, there’s not fluff in this part

Word Count: 1480

A/n: i love a good car ride scene

Y/n didn’t know how to make it any more clear that she did not want to go on this company team building beach trip. Jill smiled at her earning herself a glare. They were all gathered int the parking lot at 8:30 in the morning because this was a weekend-long thing. Y/n loved both Maria and Phil, but part of her wondered how hard it would be to find another job at a different company that didn’t do weekend-long team-building things.

Everyone was trying to figure out who was driving and who was going in which car. Typically, Y/n would offer to drive, but Carol’s stupid car was taking much longer than it should. Why did she have to be such a good aunt? This would be so much easier if Carol didn’t have Monica to hold over Y/n’s head.

“Hey, boss,” Peter beamed. “You excited for the trip?”

She was forcing herself to be at least civil to him, but goddamn did he have so much fucking energy for this early in the morning.

“You could say that,” she answered. He held out a Starbucks cup. “I can’t drink coffee.”

“It’s a chai latte,” he says. “You don’t drink coffee because of anxiety, right?”

She held back tears (she had the tendency to be a bit dramatic in the mornings). “Peter, someday you are going to make someone very happy.”

He blushed and looked at the ground but didn’t walk away.

“Bucky, can you take Y/n and Peter?” Maria’s voice cut through the fog in Y/n’s brain. “They’re the only ones that still need a ride.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Y/n whispered to herself.

“Sure,” Bucky shrugged as if he didn’t hate her. As if they didn’t spend up to eight hours a day getting on each other’s nerves.

Y/n opened her mouth to protest, but then everyone started putting their bags in trunks. She barely registered when Peter offered to take her bag to Bucky’s car. She told him that she could take her own luggage, but Bucky swooped in and grabbed the handles before she could.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late.” Y/n couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not as Bucky led them to the car.

Ten minutes later, they were on the road.

Peter had oh so graciously, let Y/n have shot-gun while he was seated in the back. Bucky, who drove a stick (because of course, he did) set up the music.

Bucky Barnes, who was already devastatingly handsome (in an unfortunate sort of way that made her want to fling herself off a cliff), didn’t need to be any hotter. And that’s where Y/n’s problem was. She had always thought that a man driving was unreasonably hot, especially if they were mostly calm as they drove.

With any luck, Bucky would have major road rage, and she could switch with someone for the drive home.

The beach was about an hour’s drive. Y/n wondered how hard it would be to fall asleep, but she didn’t know if she could trust Bucky not to find a way to draw on her face or something. Maybe she should have let Peter sit in the front.

Ten minutes into the drive, Bucky dug out his phone from his pocket and handed it to Y/n.

“Can you -” he started.

Without thinking about it, she took it. “Sure. Why is Stark Industries calling you?”

“Ignore it,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

“Ya know, if you roll your eyes too much, they’ll get stuck in the back of your head. And that would end up being very boring for you because there’s nothing back there.” Y/n rejected the call. A few seconds later, it started buzzing again. Only this time, the contact read Tony Stark. “Barnes, wh-wh-wh-”

“Is your brain not connected to your mouth right now? What’s going on?” Bucky chuckled.

“Why is the Tony Stark calling you? Why do you have Tony Stark’s number saved in your phone?”

“You know Tony Stark?” Peter spoke in awe.

Bucky ignored all their questions. “Will you answer it and tell him that I’m driving and can’t really talk right now?”

Y/n barked out a laugh. “I’m not answering the phone for the biggest tech genius in America. Do it yourself if you’re such good friends with him.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, again, not heeding Y/n’s warning. He grabbed the phone and answered. “Tony, I can’t really talk right now. . . Because I’m driving. . . I did. Monday morning. . . Bruce said it was fine -”

“Bruce Banner?” Peter asked in a hushed whisper.

“Tony. . . I told you I was busy this weekend. . . Yes, I can come to dinner on Thursday. . . I don’t know why you ask the answer is always no.”

Y/n strained her ears, trying to hear the second half of the conversation. Now she wished she had answered the phone.

Bucky lowered his voice a little. “No, I’m not going to do that. That’s one of the dumbest ideas you’ve ever had. I will see you Thursday.”

Bucky hung up the phone and put it in the cupholder between him and Y/n. The silence lasted all of three seconds before Peter started up again.

“So how well do you know Mr. Stark?” He asked.

“Considering that he just agreed to go to dinner with him on Thursday,” Y/n piped up, “I’d say they were in love.”

“That’s not what -” Bucky sighed. “I know him pretty well, kid. Why?”

“I applied for his internship, but I never got a call back.”

Y/n turned around in her seat and looked at him. “Peter, do you not like working here?” She shot Bucky a quick glare.

“No, it’s not that. I just - I’m more of a science person, and I just took whatever job I could get. This one paid the best, but I was really hoping that I would be able to work in the field that I actually want to go in.”

Y/n turned back around. “Told ya, you should be nicer,” she grumbled.

Bucky didn’t justify that with a response. The rest of the ride happened in silence, but Y/n really wanted to know what had happened Monday morning. Clearly, Bucky had some kind of appointment, which explained why he was so calm when he’d walked in late. She should leave it alone. He was allowed to have his secrets just as she was allowed to have hers.

* * *

Y/n had scolded herself about thirty times in the past twenty minutes. She couldn’t stop watching Bucky drive, because yes, he was very calm as he drove. It was really attractive, and his right hand would rest on the gear shift, and -

Get it together, Y/n. She scolded herself again. If she wouldn’t get car sick, she’d pull out one of the books she’d brought along for the weekend. She was trying to fall into one of her extensive daydreams when an all too familiar tune came out from the car speakers.

Saw your body language, and I know how you feeling. You look like the kind of girl who’s tired of speaking.

She bit back the laugh that was begging to be released. Glancing at the radio, she doubled checked that this was, in fact, his playlist and not the actual radio. She was struggling with whether she should say something or let it slide. Letting it slide was winning because she didn’t want to get kicked out of the car, but god bless Peter Parker.

“You like One Direction?” He asked a little too gleefully.

Y/n waited for Bucky to quickly change the song and grumble about it being on there because of his sister or an ex-girlfriend. But he didn’t.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy some of their songs,” he said simply.

Bucky said it so casually as if that wasn’t a surefire way to set her off. He needed to do something dickish so she could go right back to hating him. Hating him was as easy as breathing. It came naturally. This entire car ride was confusing the fuck out of her, and she didn’t particularly like it.

“Really?” Peter, who was sounding more and more like an excited puppy, asked.

“Yeah, my sister made me listen to them once, and I guess I just didn’t stop.”

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek.

“What?” Bucky asked. It took her a second for her to realize he was talking to her. “Are you gonna sit there and pretend that you don’t like them?”

“No, I just didn’t think that you would admit to liking one direction is all.”

“Well, sunflower, I guess there are still a few things you don’t know about me.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes AU

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angelkurenai · 5 years ago

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Qualified cuddler - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Title: Qualified cuddler

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: oh my god could you write a tom hiddleston one where y/n is part of the crew cast while filming ragnarrok and they get on very well and everybody loves her, she’s got great style. she’s been sleeping bad a few days and ends up falling a sleep on tom’s lap “be my extra pillow please” and tom’s like “fuck i love this girl (slightly altered)

A/N: Love to get to write the requests, but until I’m done with the current ones I won’t be accepting any more new ones. Thank you!

“Another cup of coffee? I see you've found a whole new appreciation for the beverage, love. Is this the third one today? That's more times than we've talked to each other today.”

You would be lying majorly if you said that you didn't smile the second you heard the soft accented voice, more than you had smiled in the past eight hours. A smile that was only accompanied by a weight lifting off your shoulders. It seemed like whenever you looked at the man your day got ten times better and it definitely had nothing to do with your feelings for him. Not at all... or maybe a little bit. On the other hand your costar and great friend was probably one of the kindest and most considerate people you'd met, so it would be impossible for such a sweet person as Tom to not brighten your day just by giving you a smile.

However, these days had been a lot more than just hard on you, that really even Tom's bright smile and comforting gaze couldn't do enough to make it better. And even more, to give you the sleep you so desperately needed but couldn't find.

“Why, yes. I have never appreciated it as much as now. It seems almost like I've just fallen in love.” you closed your eyes for a small peaceful seconds when he kissed your temple, finding such comfort and relaxation that it surprised you very much pleasantly.

“Ah so you've replaced me? Oh the pain!” he placed a hand over his chest a little bit too dramatically that you couldn't help but chuckle. It came out a little more nervous than you'd like mostly because of how his words made your heart skip a beat or two. Despite your worn-out body and tired, sleep-deprived brain, the effect this man could have on you was unparalleled.

“So it seems. Unfortunately you've been dethroned. The first place in my heart belongs to coffee now.” you raised your cup, smiling before you took a large sip and folding the papers with script for the scene you were supposed to be filming in three hours, you placed them neatly away. It wasn't as if you had been able to read past the same first sentence anyway.

Still with a smile on your lips, much softer, you said “Careful though, if Mark or Scarlett hear us right now there will be nosaving this, I'm telling you.”

“Odin help us.” his eyes widened and he looked around frantically “I sure hope they're not anywhere near. There would be no hearing the end of it. For all I know, they will bring it up on some interview. They even have gotten matching T-shirts which I hope I don't see, either. Something about shipping us and-” but his words came to a halt when he noticed the frown that had set upon your own face. It was so subtle – or maybe present 24/7 the past couple days to the point people and stopped ignoring it or maybe, you believed, they didn't get to notice it in the first place. Being an actress and spending so much time filming not one but two of the biggest and most demanding movies in the past ten years in the MCU meant that not many had the chance to notice let alone consider the reasons why you were so exhausted these days. Not many... but certainly one.

“Feeling tired again, darling?” he asked softly, voice even more soothing and calm than before, as he pressed his palm to your cheek.

“Wha- Uh.” you shook your head, trying to give him a reassuring smile “No. I only zoned out for a second, sorry. I'm fine, I'm really fine. See, I've got my two loves right here with me. What else can a girl need?”

“While I am flattered or maybe a lot more than that, I'd much rather ignore my skipping heartbeat for the moment and... hear you say the truth this time.” you almost couldn't comprehend what he was asking from you because his own words managed to make your heart skip beats and you blessed this man for making you feel more alive than you had in the past three days “You look terrible, darling. Don't get me wrong, you're always ravishing but- Have you been getting any sleep lately? I feel scared sometimes that you're going to pass out a-and at first I thought you were only stressed – which got me just as worried – but then you stopped being as focused, you're constantly silent a-nd look like you might pass out any given moment. You look... exhausted. And it just... breaks my heart to see you like this.”

“You're far too good for me, you know that?” you looked at him through your lashes, biting your lower lip but he only shook his head.

He sighed softly “I'd rather say it's the other way round. But we're not talking about that, are we?”

“No, I think we're rather talking about how jealous you are of this coffee replacing you in my heart.” you said with a smile that felt too light and not just as tired as every other one these days.

“And as I previously said, I'm terribly hurt and I will definitely fight to gain my place back on the first spot by all means necessary.But you still are avoiding the topic, dear.” his smile fluttered a bit “So I am only going to ask you. Is everything alright? Are you alright? Is something troubling you o-or is there a problem you'd... like to talk about? You know I'm always here for you and if I could help in any way, I'd very much love to. I- I know it's possibly not my place to ask because I'm really no more than a colleague-”

“Tom” you couldn't help the gasp that left your lips, your eyes all-but-widening “Do you really believe that?”

It seemed like he did have his doubts, yes, and seeing you feel so shocked over his words managed to earn a smile from him as he nodded his head and corrected “I apologize. No. I do think after two years we're more than just that. And even if I don't really know my place-” he let out a small shaky breath “I still do want to know what's troubling you so much and if, in any way, I can help.”

“It's not anything too bad, Tom. Really, not something you should worry yourself with. I-” you scoffed a small laugh “I doubted anyone would notice to be honest. Nobody else had so far.”

“Well, I sure hope I'm not somebody else, for one. And for another-” he slowly took the cup of coffee from your hand “I do really care. Care for you. And care to know. That's why I pay attention.”

It wasn't as if you really had much strength in you to fight, given how tired you were all the time, but when it came to Tom things got even harder. One look at those blue eyes and you found that every part of your will slipped away. You secretly thought he knew it and used it to his advantage every time he could.

“It's not someth-” you shook your head, stopping yourself “I really shouldn't bother you with this. It's not that important. There's nothing to-”

“It is to me if it concerns you. And there clearly is something. Love-” he took your hand in yours, locking fingers with yours and brining it to his lips to kiss the back of it “Tell me.”

“You know-” you felt your throat close, tears welling up in your eyes from all the stress that had piled up the past couple days “You're making it really hard for me to say no to you lately. And that's not good. Not good at all.”

“Well, although I'm not really a fan of it, I think it best sums up things: Eye for an eye hm?”

Biting your lip, you looked down at your hands before letting a small sigh of defeat “I'm only incredibly nervous about my upcoming scenes. There. I said it. And it sounds as stupid out loud as it did in my head.”

“Oh darling.” you took notice of the smile forming on his lips, sympathetic and certainly very relieved but at the same time caring as always. You, however, couldn't stand to think that he'd laugh at you so you tore your eyes away from him and biting your lip you finally managed to mumble a soft sentence.

“Don't laugh at me. What with my character having a bigger part in the story and what with Kevin saying he wants me to lead the new phase- which, I never even asked for by the way, it's not really easy on my sanity and therefore sleep a-and now it's been- Gosh, I've lost count of the nights I haven't slept and it's all piling up because I- I can't sleep at night but I also have to stay awake at ay because of filming and therefore drink so much coffee that it's not healthy but I know I have to in order to-”

“Whow whow. No. No, no no. (Y/n)-” before you could even comprehend it, you felt a pair of hands cup your face only to force you to look into Tom's impossibly blue eyes “Love, I would never laugh for something like this. Especially something like this. It's just that- You never cease to amaze me, dear. Gosh, you are truly incredible, do you know that?”

“Tom... it's not nice to make fun of your friends, you know.” you mumbled, even more weakly than before as your eyes casted down for a few seconds.

“I'm not! I could never be, dear, you know me. It's just that-” he shook his head softly, letting only a moment of silence pass – a moment that really peaked your interest if you were entirely honest – before you felt a pair of lips press on your forehead and you couldn't fight the small sigh of content that escaped your own lips “You are so wonderful. The love you have for what you do, the passion and energy you put into it that, while I don't approve of you exhausting yourself, is something so beautiful to watch because in the end you create real art with your very own being. All of the acting, every scene, is also a part of you that you are about to give to the world and it amazes me.”

“Alright-” you were biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot but you were failing miserably both at that and at not blushing bright red at his words “That sounds a lot better than what I said.”

Your words earned a soft chuckle from him but they didn't manage to wipe out all of his worry. Taking a better look at him you noticed his eyebrows had pulled into a frown once more, although less obvious this time. “It's not really any better, though. You're going to fall down if you keep going like this.”

“I'm doing well so far, aren't I? There's no need to make such an issue out of this, Tommy.” despite how touching it was to see him care so deeply for you, you didn't want to burden him with your problems so instead you tried to put on a small smile and make it as believable as possible before adding “But if you want to make this fun, we can bet on how long it will take me to fall down. I'm sure I could last-”

“I'm not going to make fun of it because it is not something to be taken lightly. Not to me. As a matter of fact, I-” you would have gotten completely distracted – especially in your light-headed sleep-deprived state – by the way his fingers slipped so casually and easily between yours and lingered, just a few long seconds that had your heart leaping to your throat, but you were more than alert when you felt your cup of coffee slip from your grasp as he took it away. Your eyes widened and a small gasp left your lips at the same time. He completed with “Am gonna do much more.” but you didn't have a mind for that.

“No, Tom!” you reached for it but he he held the cup further away from you “Tommy, please.”

“Starting with this. You don't need any more coffee than you've already had. It's bad for your health, especially if we consider the fact that you haven't eaten more than half a sandwich all day. And yes, I've noticed. As I told you, I pay attention to the things that matter to me.” you would have melted at the caring tone in his voice and probably just kissed the living heaven out of him right then and there but he was still mercilessly holding your coffee away from you and it didn't make things easy for you.

“Tommy, give me my coffee back. Please, I need it!” you pleaded with him, trying to give him the most adorable puppy eyes you could master “I won't be able to go for the rest of the day without it.”

“I'm pretty sure that everyone would say that you will in fact make it if you don't have this coffee. And to make sure of it-” before you even had the chance to protest you watched the man drop the cup into the closest bin, earning a squeak of surprise barely even a yelp before you watched him turn back to you with a satisfied smile “There. No more coffee for today.”

“But Tom, I-” you let a small whine “I'm gonna fall down without that. I need the caffeine to keep me awake!”

“Oh no, the exact opposite. The caffeine is what's going to make you fall down. You're not looking out for your health and diet and with the lack of sleep I don't even want to think of what could come.” this time he used a more stern voice that made you look down like a kid being scolded “And I'm going to do anything I can to make sure that it doesn't. Starting now. You have some time before your next scene, am I right?” he asked and you gave him a hesitant nod “Good, then we're going to make most of it. Come here.”

“Wha-” you didn't really try hard to protest against him taking hold of your hand, but still frowned when he led you towards one of the small armchairs that was part of the set that you were going to have a scene in next. However, a gasp escaped your lips when he sat down and, still holding your hand, he dragged you with him and before you could understand it you were falling on his lap.

“Tom!” you squeaked out, eyes all wide and you prayed that at least your face wasn't bright red despite how hot it felt “What are you-”

“I said I'm looking out for you. At least more than I usually am. I've taken it upon myself to make you feel better, get over your problems and have a good night's sleep again. And we're getting started right now. Don't think this will be the end of it because I'm very stubborn as you may know, so be prepared for more time with yours truly. Like, a lot more. In and out of set. You won't get rid of me easily.” you couldn't say that sounded like the best thing in the world out loud, not when you were holding your own breath.

“While I'm not protesting to that... What does that have to do with, well, this?”

“Simple.” he smiled, wrapping his arms around your middle, letting you lean on his side “You have time, just about right enough for a quick nap and more often than not, having another source of heat like another body of someone you're comfortable with, helps a lot. So that's what you're going to do until it's time for filming. Or at least try to. Even if you get thirty minutes, it's worth it.”

“I don't doubt your magic, but Tommy, seriously? Anybody could walk in! How are you going to explain this to them? It's not really the most professional thing to-”

“Alright let me stop you right there because you're rambling without a single breath and that's not a way to relax. Deep breath first. Deep breath, (Y/n).” he gave you a stern look and you did as told, despite the small roll of your eyes “Good. And if anyone has any questions I'll be the one to answer, not you. Not that anybody will hold it against you, you know everyone loves you. Unless you have a problem them thinking something else of this perhaps...?” he raised a small eyebrow but you shook your head.

“No, no of course not Tommy... Unless it's Mark or Scarlett that runs into us we're safe.”

“Then let's hope they don't. I value your sleep more than anything else though, so I don't know if I'm going to engage in any conversations though. Much less try to avoid what they'll have coming.”

“Sleep, yeah.” you scoffed with a fond smile, resting your head on his shoulder “As if that's even a possibility, Tommy. We both know it, you're wasting your time here.”

“No I'm not. Even if you don't get to sleep we both know it's worth the effort and far from a waste of time to be with you. And stop calling me Tommy, it's distracting the way you say it and I don't plan on sidetracking. You are going to besleeping here, no matter what.” he kissed the top of your head and this time you let your smile show.

“While I don't mean to doubt you, and you're exceptional soft and comfy, it's nearly impossible for me to relax.” you whispered although you had slowly but surely started losing track of yours words. His thumb had started rubbing soothing circles on your back, making your heart rate slow down to such a degree that you couldn't believe how calm you were already feeling. It seemed that with the combination of his soothing voice, soft cologne and warm body you really had no way of escaping it.

“Dare you say I'm not qualified enough for cuddles?”

“Oh no, by all means.” you giggled and it took a couple seconds for your brain to register how sleepy that giggle was and that you had et a pause way longer than expected to follow, as if zoning out or as if – surprisingly so – fading in and out of sleep “You're the perfect pillow. Soon... they'll be looking around for you because... because I'll steal you away for... personal use. You'll... be my extra pillow... from now on. If... I ever manage... to fall asleep... again.”

You hadn't realized it that each pause lasted longer and that your eyes lingered closed even more with each blink. Your breathing was slowly becoming more even too.

“Then I'll gladly be your pillow... for the rest of your life.” he only whispered as he kissed the top of your head, no other thought in his head but how much he loved you.

One day he'd get to tell you too.

#tom #tom hiddleston #tom imagine #tom hiddleston imagine #tom x reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tom fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom one shot #tom hiddleston one shot #avengers #avengers imagine #loki #x reader #imagine #fanfiction

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awilddreamermain · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, Chels! Congratulations!! I'm so happy for you! You deserve every follower and more! That is a threat, I'm holding everyone hostage 🔪

I would love to get a MHA matchup, I wanna see who you'd match me with! Got me so curious! SFW & NSFW if you'd be willing!

My name is Chloe but I prefer May, nicknames include May-May, Maybell or Chlo.

I'm 25, pronouns are she/he, Cancer Moon, Aries Sun and Virgo Rising. Quite the weird mash of zodiacs, huh?

My favorite colors are pink (that soft pastel kinda baby pink), red (especially blood/garnet red) and...can I add pink again? Any shade of pink this time. Bubblegum or hot pink.

Favorite AU's include A/B/O, Mafia, Historical, Fantasy and does Mythical Creatures count?

Oh...oh boy, I gotta look deep for some fun facts that aren't just...facts but I'll do my best!

1) My sneezes are so short and high pitched I go "chu".

2) I have vitiligo, makes me look like a dog because it's mostly around my mouth and my right eye so I have a spot!

3) I have atrocious balance, my knees and shins are always banged up because I cannot for the life of me walk correctly.

4) I have a stutter, on top of speaking so quickly it turns into a jumbled mess. So good luck understanding what I said because I have no idea either.

5) I have a growing unicorn plush collection. My favorite is Cupcake, one that's actually taller than I am. Big chunk.

My likes are pretty simple. Cute & soft sweaters, blankets, warm coffee and strawberry milk, pastries and the cold! Winter is my favorite season. History, particularly the Medieval and Victorian times.

My interests revolve around creativity and you could say they're my hobbies as well. Drawing in particular, I used to do digital but I'm stuck with traditional pencil and paper at the moment. I'm dipping my toes into painting and its very fun! Obviously writing and reading and if I'm not doing of those listed then I'm definitely playing video games.

Personality I might say I'm quite split down the middle. At first, to a complete stranger I might come across as cold, stoic, with a resting bitch face, that just wants to get whatever I'm outside for done so I can leave. I'd create a witty or sarcastic comeback if I was given sass by a Karen but with my speech issues? I'd be lucky to get one coherent word out at her...and spend the rest of the day fantasizing what could've happened. So I'm rather quiet, agoraphobia hits hard in large or crowded places so I'm an anxiety riddled mess on the verge of a panic attack. In private or with people that I'm comfortable with? Complete opposite. Happy, bubbly, cracking puns and jokes so get those groan worthy reactions. I try to be the "mom friend" and get over my issues if someone is having it worse, I'll march up to a counter and ask for ketchup if someone wanted it but was too scared to do it themselves. The shoulder to lean and cry on, I'm highly empathetic and understanding, compassionate at times. But I have to actively try and keep myself positive and say good things about myself because I do fall into the pit of self-loathing and hate.

For appearance I'd say I'm average height, pale with white splotches that are inching larger due to my vitiligo, chubby, ashy blonde, blue eyes, button nose. I'd say I'm decently cute? I don't know if I can rate myself.

Okay I know I said I'd be looking into Zodiac compatibility for this but— I literally just screamed internally "KIRISHIMA" when I was reading this. You two would be perfect omg. This Libra king would do anything for you. For this you're an artist and the daughter of a mafia boss :) I like to think of ship names sometimes so like, yours would either be like Eijmay or Mayjirou or Kiriloe— that last one and first are awful I know so lets go with the second? I can't write a proper stutter for the life of me so I tried to keep your dialogue to the minimum.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ Pairing: Eijirou Kirishima

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AU: Mafia

⠀Theme Song: You're The One That I Want - Alex & Sierra

How you meet (his point of view):

⠀⠀The gallery was full of black and white suits, tight, floor length dresses with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses meeting his ears. It was a joyous evening, celebrating the wonderful art work created by the boss's daughter. He had never met her before but he had heard whispers, all good as no one would dare slander the name of their leader's precious little girl. You were the boss's pride and joy, thus he kept you as far away from the darker side of the family business as possible.

⠀⠀Kirishima was still a new hire, a bodyguard of sorts and would consider this his first gig. He had an idea of who he was looking for as he walked further into the mass of people admiring your work but didn't expect what he would eventually come across. You were as far away from the crowd as you possibly could be, guzzling glasses of wine and over all appearing to be a deer in headlights. He couldn't fugure out for the life of him why you seemed so frightened until he watched people approach you to talk, noticing the stutter in your voice when you replied to questions and greetings,your body language telling people to stear clear of you.

⠀⠀So, he did what he was hired to do. "Kindly step away from the lady." He said with a smile, approaching with his large arms crossing over his broad chest as he towered over the guests. They looked at him as if he were a giant shark looking to devour them before scurrying away, leaving the two of you alone. He stood quietly, listening to the voices on the other side of his ear piece as his ruby eyes scanned the area around you. He made sure to not stand so close and avoided in letting his gaze wander.

⠀⠀He couldn't help but admire your skin in quick glances, finding the spot over your eye to be quite adorable. Your silky, ask blonde hair was all dolled up for the event, light make up on your face but not enough to cover the vitiligo. You were stunning and his heart hammered against his chest. So the rumors were true.

⠀⠀You thanked him, voice quiet and careful as you set down your wine glass and clasped your hands together. Out of the corner of his eye he watched you twiddle your thumbs. You didn't want to be here, did you? This obviously wasn't your idea, how could it be? A girl like you, timid as a mouse, didn't want to be surrounded by strangers. "Miss..." He began, thinking carefully because the last thing he wanted to do was piss off the boss and likely get himself killed. But this was his job wasn't it? Making sure you were happy and safe? "Would you like to leave here for a bit? We'll come back of course, but you look like you need some air."

Extra.

He ended up taking you to a drive thru restaurant and got you whatever you wanted, letting you talk about whatever you wanted or sat quietly if you chose not to talk at all If it was quiet in the suv then that was fine too, he just wanted to help you in any way he could. Eventually the silence becomes small talk and then leads to a rather deep conversation about whatever the hell was going on inside that beautiful brain of yours. Kirishima wasn't the smartest man but he wasn't stupid, he wasn't as clueless as most thought he was. You told him how your father made you do this as an attempt to get you out there, to socialize and possibly find a suitor. This was the mafia after all.

The Confession:

⠀⠀It was a tradition now, every Sunday you and Eijirou would go to your favorite café to have coffee and enjoy the early day weather before it got too hot. You sit at the same table, in the same chairs with him facing the door. You get the same drinks and food and just overall enjoy each others company. After that night at the gallery you two became fast friends, which your father obviously had to approve of but thankfully he did. Kirishima was a good man, he's trustworthy and puts you before himself.

⠀⠀The day he approached your father and asked to speak in private was the day he knew he was likely to get thrown in the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean. He has confessed his feelings for you to your old man, who listened intently with a blank face behind his desk. "Sir, I'm in love with your daughter, and with your blessing I'd like to... court her." He was utterly terrified when your father cleared his throat and sighed, shifting where he sat so he could stand and move around the desk. He reached out for a handshake which Kirishima looked up at him with a questioning look.

⠀⠀Your father gave his blessing and now... He just had to tell you, his best friend, that he loved you. God he loved you so much— "Kiri," you interrupted his thoughts, bringing him crashing back to reality," a-are you alright? You seem nervous." He swallowed hard in response but cleared his throat, taking a sip of his cappuccino.

⠀⠀"Oh yeah— definitely." He breathed with a laugh, moving a hand to the back of his neck to scratch. How was he going to say it? "So, uh—" he licked his lips, adjusting himself in his seat multiple times until he groaned and leaned forward. "Fuck, I'm just gonna say it— Maybell, I love you. I have for a long time now and I talked to your father and he said—"

⠀⠀"Said what, Eijirou?" Your eyes widened at his confession and he felt like a complete idiot. Should he had said something to you first? Was this a mistake? What if you didn't feel the same way? God his mind was going to explode—

⠀⠀"That I could... court you. With your permission." You were quick to nod and smile to his surprise, which prompted a grin if his own.

Extra.

Kirishima HAS to be facing the door in any public place you go to. I don't make the rules.

He never let's you walk close to the road, he has to be between you and it at all times when you're walking.

He oders your food and drinks for you when you can't but is there for moral support when you do. He wants you comfortable and happy. He wouldn't ever dare get in your way though, you're a lot stronger and braver than most may think you are.

The Relationship:

⠀⠀On days like this, Kirishima can't help but admire you. He catches himself staring wuite often but he just can't help it. What did he do to deserve such a beautiful partner? He looks at you and all he can think about is how much he loves you and wants to see you smile. He watched you from the kitchen island, leaning against it as you waltz around the kitchen in your pinky fuzzy slippers and one of his shirts that's much, much too big on you. He remembers your surprise when you found his clothing was actually too big on you and how happy you were.

⠀⠀"Maybell?" He hums, adjusting his stance and crossing his arms on the counter. He listened for you to him back in response, a smile on his lips. "You look so cute in my clothes.

⠀⠀You giggled, shaking your head and continued putting the dishes away until Eijirou appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and his forehead coming down on your shoulder. "Need somethin' baby?" You turned your head just slightly, a brow cocked inquisitively. He squeezed you in response, swiftly lifting you and making you squeal. Thankfully you didn't have anything in your hands at the moment. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face, setting you down only to lift you again bridal style.

⠀⠀"I've got all I need right here in my arms." He chuckled and you playfully smacked his chest, letting him carry you to your shared bedroom.

Extra.

TICKLE FIGHTS.

He thinks your sneezes are the cutest thing in the world.

He loves your god awful puns, they crack him up every time.

Adores the fact you're a nurturer, especially with your friends. He thinks you'd make a great mother but if that's something you don't want he respects that.

You take care of everyone, but who takes care of you? Eijirou is always there to be your shoulder to lean and cry on, he's your sound board and is always happy to let you talk about your feelings with him. You're allowed to not be happy and bubbly all the time, he realizes how staying positive all the time can actually do more damage than goof, especially if you bottle everything up.

If on a particular day you're struggling with your speech he's happy to be your voice as well. He understands you better than anyone, even your own father.

Speaking of your father, he can't wait to make Eijirou his son-in-law! He's a good man with a good heart and treats you right, what's not to like?

He has trouble saying no to you and spoils you quite a bit.

The Fights:

...

Extra.

There's nothing, what you say goes and all he can say is "yes dear". He knows better than to argue with you, however when he's right and he knows he is, he finds a way to prove it without making you mad.

The Sex:

⠀⠀"Fuck baby—" he hissed, hands finding your hips and guiding you as you rub yourself on his cock. Your hands are on his thighs and your head is tossed back, giving him the perfect view of your tits. God he loves them, he loves the plush skin of your stomach and your thighs, your ass too, he loved seeing all of you. He was so happy that you allow him this privilege of seeing you, granted you've been dating a while now but still. Your sounds are music to his ears and all he wants is to make more, make you feel so good you're calling his name and making a mess.

He wanted— no, needed, to feel you, to feel inside your warm and wet cunt, to feel it squeeze him and milk him dry. He was quick to flip the two of you over, careful to not hurt you as he did. You gasped and giggled, reaching up to hold his face as he smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. He loved your taste, he could go on and on about all the things he loved about you all day if he could. "You want it baby?" You nodded excitedly, lip caught between your teeth. He smirked and reached between the two of you, thick fingers tracing a line between your lips and slipping inside your soaked pussy.

"D-Daddy—" you whine, a slight pout on your lips as your face morphs into one of pleasure. He chuckled, pumping his fingers in and out a few times before removing them and grabbing his cock. He coated it more in your slick, guiding it between tge lips of your cunt before slowly pushing inside, groaning at how tight you are. You squeal of course, gasping for breath because Kirishima is an impressive size, you still struggled to take him sometimes but like a good girl you always managed.

"That's my good girl." He cooed, moving so his forearms were on either side of your head. He gave a couple test thrusts, waiting for you to adjust u til you nodded for him to continue.

Extra.

Terrified of activating his quirk while he's fucking you, but he keeps himself under control.

He loves his hair pulled and he loves to be bitten, he especially likes it when you scratch his back when he hits that good spot.

Eats you out for his pleasure mostly, but for yours as well. He loves when you grind on his face and moan his name when you do it. Speaking of, please sit on his face, he loves that shit. He knows how to be careful of his teeth!

If you have pets they CANNOT be in the same roon when you're doing the do, it's just weird.

He'd happily bend you over in the kitchen and do you right there. Hell, he'll fuck you anywhere you deem suitable.

He likes to do a mixture if praise and degradation with you, and edging and overstimulation is a big go-to. He just loves seeing you squirm under him, hr loves hearing you beg and say you need him.

#dreamer's 800 follower event

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koko-bopp · 5 years ago

Text

Three Times

jeon jungkook x male!reader

word count – 5K

genre – Mature, Fluff

warning(s) – lowkey SMUT, marijuana use, drinking, choking kink, lace kink, if you're toxically masculine or addicted to gender roles, just don't read.

synopsis – you and jungkook had flirted a thousand times, hung out alone a million times, yet you've only kissed three times.

You've only kissed them three times, his lips.

You'd had a massive crush on Jungkook for as long as you can remember, and it would be obvious to anyone with or without a pair of eyes that Jungkook really liked you too.

But Yoongi's your older brother, also Jungkook's friend, so wanting to confirm a relationship would've been tricky. Jungkook probably would spontaneously combust and die if you had to ask for Yoongi's approval to date you.

The first time involved the two of you getting stoned. Yoongi wasn't there to tell you shit, considering he went on a skateboarding park date with Hoseok, and Namjoon was spending the night at Jin's place. Weed brownies and Looney Tunes was all you and Jungkook needed to have a great time.

Well, you two only really needed each other to have a good time.

But this was a moment to remember.

Alright, the two of you were pretty stoned; edibles seemed to have hit both of you pretty hard since you had begun telling embarrassing stories about Yoongi, and Jungkook's stories were about his highschool life and how canteen food is disgusting compared to Jin's cooking.

Before it all came to an end, Jungkook placed both hands and his chin on your shoulder like a giddy child, both of you staring at each other through eyes that weren't yet that red but for whatever reason, it looked like Jungkook was staring into the solar system. Staring into something beautiful.

But his staring into your eyes with a bright grin on your face led to hungry lips being met.

Jungkook had climbed onto your lap with his fingers diving into your hair, his legs on either side of your thighs as you moulded your lips against his as though you had been touch starved.

Moans were leaving Jungkook's lips when you pulled him down against your crotch, thrusting up causing him to whimper loudly. You'd grabbed his ass into your palms watching him have to pull away from your lips and suck in a broken sigh.

Though he joined back immediately, grinding down onto you and in that time you had pulled Jungkook flush against your body, one hand moving up to grip onto his hair.

"Ah–! Hyung," He moaned loudly.

It resulted in a low chuckle from you, your lips scattering small bites and kisses along his neck that was on full display for you to enjoy as you please, "Hmm. You sound so sexy moaning for me, doll."

It earned a whine from Jungkook, a more moans from when you bit down next to his pulse.

A smirk danced onto your lips, "Though, I bet you'd look sexier squirming under me, don't you think?" You said, "Withering, squirming, all desperate underneath my touch, baby? Doesn't that sound good?"

It sounded perfect.

But it was interrupted by Yoongi bringing Hoseok back to his apartment from their date. So, as soon as the door clicked open Jungkook had thrown himself off of you and onto the far end of the couch.

Yoongi clearly knew what had happened, he noticed the pillow you'd used to cover your crotch area, and Jungkook sitting wierdly cross-legged with his face and cheeks flamed red. Hoseok just being happy that he's no longer challenged by snobby teenagers to a skateboarding race.

You and Jungkook watched Hoseok smother your brother in kisses. Yoongi laughed at his boyfriend's actions.

Hoseok seemed oblivious to everything except the weed.

The second time had been to celebrate Jungkook's birthday.

The whole squad was invited. Taehyung was sipping on wine, while nobody let Jimin drink anything other than cider because that man can move when he's drunk. Yoongi and Jin looking sober after a whole bottle of Smirnoff, Hoseok and Namjoon just enjoy a classic beer.

You and Jungkook? It was his night, so he was allowed to drink, obviously responsibly, but you joined him. Namjoon had volunteered to be the designated driver.

Though Jungkook didn't even bother to keep his hand off of you after three shots. He constantly wanted to feel your biceps, running his finger along your jaw, and always made sure that his leg was brushing against yours.

If someone watched you two from the booth that you'd sat it; easily mistaken for a couple enjoying a drinking date.

"[Y/N]-hyung!" Jungkook laughed at your comment. You had noticed almost immediately at how his cheeks had flushed a shade of pink. "You perv," he giggled.

The topic of outfits when it came to sex was bought up, and you'd quite blatantly mentioned that lace is a rather attractive material. You may have also mentioned that Jungkook wearing that kind of clothing would definitely be something you'd want to see before you die.

"Oh my god, I was joking," you said, seen as you were only really joking about the last part. Though you leaned forward so only Jungkook was able to hear your next words, "Kookie. Are you actually wearing that?"

"Why?" He said, teasingly. His hands danced along his button-up, undoing the first few buttons that immediately exposed the black, lace bra that he had mentioned seconds ago, "Are you taking back your words?"

Your eyes went wide. It might've been the alcohol, but your expression read immediate lust. "Fuck, you look–"

You didn't have the concentration to respond as soon as Jungkook licked his lips. You swallowed hard, eyes wondering to the pattern of the piece then back up to the younger's eyes. Jungkook was smirking, clearly proud of his behaviour, "Do I look nice, Hyung?"

You nodded carefully, you were trying to convince yourself that both his behaviour and yours is just alcohol influenced.

Jungkook leaned forward, his hot and vodka-scented breath against your neck while he took a hold of your hand, dragging your hand slowly up his shirt to feel the lingerie under the fabric. He kissed the space right beside your ear, and you could literally feel the smirk against his lips, "Would you fuck me like this, Hyung?"

It resulted in a messy make-out against the bathroom sink. The sound of heavy breathing and French kissing were bouncing against the bathroom tiles. Both of you were trying to get the upper hand over the other.

However, you received the title of dominance when you wrapped your fingers around Jungkook's neck harshly. He'd let out a moan that was almost too loud, not expecting the action to turn him on so much.

You smirk, poking out your tongue from between your teeth, "Turn around."

Jungkook smirked and hooked a finger around the loop of your pants, "Make me."

"Jungkook! Jungkook!" The sound of Jimin's frantic voice came from the other end of the door.

Both you and Jungkook rolled your eyes, you slightly let go of the grip on the other's neck, just slightly, instead, you leaned down to begin planting a mix between rough and soft kisses along his neck and chest.

Jungkook's breath hitched, leaning his head back out of reflex, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the bathroom sink. He raised his voice slightly, "Jimin, I'm busy!"

"We told the bartender it's your birthday and now he's giving out free drinks–"

"Ah-!" A loud yelp came from Jungkook when you'd gone down far enough to take his nipple between your teeth through the lace fabric. Licking and biting the bud caused a string of poorly suppressed moans leaving Jungkook's mouth and a smirk from you. Jungkook whined, his hand now on your shoulder, "Jiminnn, not now!"

"If you don't come I'll actually break the door down."

You rolled your eyes, biting down one last time before pulling away, the string of saliva on your tongue glistening.

"No, no, no, hyung–" Jungkook's half-lidded eyes could've spoken for him, but he continued in a softer yet firm tone so Jimin wasn't able to hear him. "Hyung, I'm hard." He honestly wanted to cry, every chance he seemed to finally have you to himself it got interrupted.

"Next time, Kookie." Not gonna lie, you were rather disappointed as well, but Jungkook acting all whiny and needy was kind of attractive.

Jungkook gripped your shirt, grinding his crotch against your leg, "Please, please, just ignore him. I want you inside me."

Jimin somehow burst through the door, accidentally tripping over his own feet but nonetheless able to regain his ability to walk properly. "Jungkook, can you just– oh."

The youngest in the room pushed you off of him, almost angrily, although not expressed to you, more towards Jimin. "For fuck's sake," he snarled bitterly, tucking his shirt out from his jeans. As much as being interrupted was honestly a massive turn off for him, he was still that little bit hard, so thankfully his shirt was long enough to cover.

Jungkook exited the bathroom buttoning his shirt back up, making sure to hit Jimin's arm with his shoulder.

And Jimin was just really shocked at what he'd done.

You were trying your best not to laugh.

The third time was different, though, Jungkook had spoken to Yoongi, asking for his blessing to date you. It took a three-hour pep talk and a 250ml bottle of iced coffee, but he did it.

"No."

"I– what?"

"I said, no," Yoongi repeated. He hadn't even looked up at Jungkook, he was too busy starring at his computer, "I didn't interrupt almost every moment you two had together for nothing."

Huh, now it made a lot more sense.

Yoongi was against him, not the universe.

"Yoongi-Hyung, c'mon," He sulked, dropping his shoulders, "If you're worried about me hurting him–"

"–I am."

"At least give me a chance. Just one," Jungkook pleaded, still facing Yoongi, "I swear, hyung, you won't regret this, he means the world to me."

Yoongi turned around, his brows furrowed, "If you do anything, and I mean anything, to hurt him or his feeling, you'll be dead to me," He threatened, "Understood?"

You were in your room, and that's where Jungkook was heading. All the times of seeing your face and spending time with you but not being able to make more of a move than cuddling finally paid off.

Slightly disappointed that Yoongi was playing game master and tried to restrict you two from being together.

But to an extent, he didn't blame Yoongi at all for being overprotective, blood is thicker than water.

"Kook? Wha–" You tried to say. Jungkook had purposefully exaggerated his entrance, slamming the door open and closing it. He'd seen that you were sitting on your bed with your studies in your hand but quickly interrupted it by sitting on your lap.

"Jagi," Jungkook began, a bright smile on his face as he placed both his hands on your chest, "You like-like me, yeah?"

You were still that bit shocked, seeing as this was happening really quick. But a blink or two got you to realise that Jungkook was really close to you. You placed your hands on his waist, "Yeah, shit, did it take you two almost-fuckings and months of flirting to figure that out?"

Jungkook laughed, "No, just wanted to confirm." He leaned closer to you, tilting his head just a bit so he was mere inches away from your lips, "So, I spoke to your brother."

It was making you nervous at how calm he was acting, but you nodded in acknowledgement.

"I got his approval," Jungkook beamed, "And lucky for you, I like-like you too."

You didn't stop yourself from making the first move this time, so you softly and firmly connected your lips with his. It was like stamping a contract, one that made sure that Jungkook is yours and you're his.

You took a hold of the back of Jungkook's neck, bringing him much closer to you. You pulled back for a second though, looking at Jungkook through loving eyes, "Yoongi's going in half an hour."

Jungkook furrowed his brows, slightly panting, from the kiss, "Alright. So?"

You smirked, "He's staying over at Nams and Jin's to finish off his work there," you said, but you moved your hand so it was now wrapped around his neck. Watching Jungkook's breath hitch was what you wanted, "Then you're mine to ruin all night."

425 notes · View notes

haveyourselfacodychristmas · 4 years ago

Text

Have Yourself a Cody Christmas - Christmas Day

THE FINALÉ OF HAVE ‘YOURSELF A CODY CHRISTMAS’ INTERACTIVE STORY

Michael Langdon X Jim Mason X Duncan Shepherd X Xavier Plympton X Y/N

Warnings: Fluffy, a little non-sensical maybe, good Christmas fun, SMUT! Swearing!

DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU HAVEN’T COLLECTED ALL FOUR PRESENTS IN THE INTERACTIVE STORY.

The smell of eggnog wafts over to you from your bedroom. You resolved to spend Christmas Day in your own bed, alone as did the rest of your family, so while there is no warmth you feel like you have an even playing field today. No jealousies, no bickering...that is if everyone kept to the same vow. Even though you aren’t the biggest eggnog fan, you know that it’s a tradition for Jim and sure enough when you tip toe downstairs you see him putting on the finishing touches of grated nutmeg.

’I swear this is how Washington himself did it.’ He boasts, sliding you a cup.

‘It’s eight am, Jim.’ You laugh, watching him take a sip. ‘And you’re already on the alcohol.’

‘Eggnog can be drunk at any time.’

Duncan slopes into the kitchen, ignores the eggnog and switches on the coffee machine. ‘Even I can’t do that this early.’ He says, eying Jim’s foamy moustache.

‘Why don’t you just get an IV?’ Jim quips, ‘Addiction will kill you, ya know.’

Duncan makes a face behind Jim’s back. You catch Jim on his way to the living room, wipe off his foam and give him a quick kiss. ‘Merry Christmas, bye the way.’ Jim calls to you both, sweeping his eggnog into his hands on the way.

‘Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.’ Duncan calls to Jim, pulling you into his arms as the smell of freshly brewed coffee sings in the air. ‘And to you,’ He smiles, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

‘Home alone?’ You question, wrapping your arms around Duncan’s waist.

‘My favourite.’ He nods, letting you cling to him as he pours out the coffee into two cups, ‘Want one?’

‘Yes, I can’t do eggnog right now.’

He chuckles, ‘He never changes.’

You take note of the fondness in Duncan’s voice and rest your head against his chest.

‘Urgh, get a room.’ You expect to see Xavier in the doorway, but Xavier never rises before 10am. Instead, your favourite Travelling Salesman stands in the doorway. You squeal, running over and throwing your arms around him. Jerome hugs you back, ‘Hey princess, couldn’t miss a Christmas with my favourite people.’

‘Your favourites, really?’ Duncan smirks, immediately getting a third cup out for Jerome.

‘I’m still getting used to the new one.’ Jerome admits, ‘And I need to drop off my presents for my most favourite ones.’

‘Miriam and Jeffrey will be awake soon.’ You promise, ‘They always wake around eight thirty.’

‘I don’t mind assisting with the morning.’ Jerome volunteers and you want to hug him all over again.

‘That would be great.’

‘And where is our blessed Antichrist?’ The Salesman accepts his cup from Duncan and takes a long drink, hip leaning against the countertop as Jim re-appears.

‘I thought I recognised your voice.’ Jim grins, giving Jerome a fist-bump. ’Sup, man?’

‘Enjoying being a father, Jim?’

He nods, melting. ‘It’s…it’s so good.’

Duncan slips his arm around Jim, ‘He wouldn’t work for me, but I heard someone’s due a promotion soon?’

Jim blushes, ‘Wha…me?’

‘So I hear.’

‘Only because I read your bosses’ mind.’ Michael’s deep voice travels over to you all. He’s leaning against the doorframe, signature silk black pyjamas on. ‘Hello Jerome.’

‘Still creeping on people’s thoughts?’ You give Michael a look, but knowing what the two of you got up to yesterday, you’re not too mad.

‘Only when they have something interesting going on.’ Michael sidles into the room, ‘Which is not that often.’

‘Now everyone is here but Xavier,’ Jim glances around each of you, ‘Can we do presents?’

‘Why don’t you wanna wait?’ Duncan asks.

‘Cause he takes forever to rise.’

‘We’re going to wait.’ You decide, but you lead the way back into the living space and drop onto the couch. Michael joins you and you rest your back against him immediately right as the baby monitor picks up Jeffrey’s morning cries.

Jim makes a face, ‘Like clockwork.’

‘I’ll go,’ Jerome volunteers. ‘I wanna spend some time with my God children before you all ruin them more.’

‘Heyyy.’ Jim gives chase and you can hear the bickering all the way upstairs.

You turn to Michael and press a kiss to his chest, ‘Merry Festive Day.’

‘Merry Festive Day.’ He echoes, fingers running through your hair.

‘Did Miriam like her card?’

‘She did’ He murmurs, ‘I got the usual six am text from her.’

‘Six am on Christmas!’

‘Rises at 6, has six presents under the three and six candles always lit.’

‘I get it’ You smile as Duncan drops into his favourite armchair, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen Duncan sleep in beyond six am any day but Christmas.’

‘Hey, I sleep in on vacation.’ He protests, crossing one leg over the other. ‘I’m not a total freak.’

‘When we were in the Bahamas,’ Michael points a lazy finger at Duncan, ‘You were up at 6am to reserve the sunbeds on the beach.’

‘Only because the Obama’s tried to steal that spot and it was perfectly facing the pool and the beach for easy access.’

‘Never change, Duncan.’ You laugh, watching the Media Mogul get flustered behind his coffee right as Jim and Jerome enter with the babies, closely followed by Xavier.

‘Present time.’ Xavier trills, ‘Now we are all present, Jim says Medina is coming for dinner, so we can get started.’

Jerome deposits little Miriam in Michael’s arms, not daring to ignore the Antichrist making grabby arms. Now one year old, both Miriam and Jeffrey are interested in everything. Miriam latches onto Michael’s hair, tugging it out of his bun and watching the golden curls cascade. She bubbles a near laugh as Michael suppress rolling his eyes, ‘Again?’ He asks the baby who is nearly speaking small sentences.

‘Hair pretty.’ Miri insists, dropping into your lap and clapping her hands together.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey like his father is full of energy. The little boy is crawling everywhere, keeping both Jim and Jerome busy on the couch opposite.

‘Well, I gave my gifts upstairs.’ Jerome announces, ‘You can see them later but lets just say-‘

‘Elsa!’ Miri beams. The entire room watches as an Elsa doll floats into the living space and into Miri’s arms. She hugs it tight, ‘Jerome!’

You can’t help a snigger as Jerome tries not to look too unsettled, ‘That’s very nice, baby.’ Duncan praises, far too used to Miri and her magic by now.

Jeffrey, not yet as advanced as his twin tucks himself into Jim’s side. ‘Well, that spoiled it.’ Jerome mutters, ruffling Jeffrey’s hair. ‘Maybe I do got a favourite one.’

‘Careful, Jerome.’ Michael smirks, ’I and my Miri can hear you.’

‘Presents.’ You decide, sinking to your knees and heading for the pile under the tree. You fish out Xavier’s first and pass it to him. Jim is kind enough to join you in handing out presents.

You’re pretty sure you did well with your presents. Xavier’s already got an AirPod in one ear, Eurythmics coming faintly from his phone. Duncan’s engrossed in his planner, already writing with his Montblanc fountain pen from Michael. The two babies have joined you on the floor and found amusement in the pink tissue paper that contained bath and body products from Xavier to you.

‘Here Michael,’ You hand him your present. ‘This is from me.’

‘Thank you my love,’ He murmurs, fingers running over the silver bow. You meet Jim’s eyes, the two of you watching the Antichrist. Michael, so unused to presents treasures every single one he gets. You watch him unwrap the present so delicately, smoothing down the wrapping paper and folding it to put aside for later. He reads your gift tag and gives you a smile that betrays his love of fashion upon reading Balenciaga.

‘Hey, big spender.’ Duncan shoots you a wink, watching as Michael’s eyes rove greedily over the jacket.

‘It’s perfect.’ His eyes shine with love, ‘But you didn’t have to.’

‘I did.’ You insist, unwrapping some brand-new underwear from Victoria’s Secret from Duncan.

‘There’s something else in there you should…uh…maybe wait till the kids are in bed.’ Duncan coughs. You can’t resist a peek, spying a sleek black toy in the bottom of the box.

You slip it back under the tree, ‘Yes, not a family-friendly present.’

‘Not a family-friendly man.’ He counters, now on his second cup of coffee.

‘Sure Dunc,’ Xavier gives him a nudge, ‘Married with two step-kids.’

You hand Jim his present as he hands his own over to Xavier, ‘Don’t go wild with it, okay? Jim says.

‘Is it weed?’

‘Xaiver.’ You scold, side-eying Jeffrey.

He rolls his eyes, ‘They don’t know what weed is.’

‘WEED!’ Miri echoes, point to Xavier, ‘WEED.’

‘I’m no weed.’ Xavier counters back, ‘You’re the weedy one.’

‘Weed.’ She decides, settles beside her brother.

‘It’s not weed.’ Jim bites out, ‘Just open it.’

‘You’re not gonna live that down now, Xav.’ You smirk.

‘Ayyy,’ Xavier laughs, taking out the skateboard and choosing to ignore you. ‘This is so rad, thanks bro.’

‘You’re welcome, weed.’ Jim shoots back, his grin playful as he opens your gift. ‘Is this…woah! Beach Boys, Y/N!’

‘Where did you get that?’ Duncan’s head snaps to the present, ‘I couldn’t find anything when I was searching.’

‘Secret auction.’ You reveal, gratification swirling through you as Jim looks deeply impressed.

‘This is going in a frame on my wall where I can stare and never touch it.’

‘What the heck is the point of that?’ Xavier frowns, ‘You wanna be able to interact with stuff. Use it.’

‘It’s a poster though, babe.’ You laugh.

‘Collections show who a person really is.’ Jerome offers, ‘Be it Miri and her growing Elsa dolls or Duncan and his coffee cups.’

‘Hey.’

‘You’re on your third, Dunc.’ You point out, ‘You should slow down darling.’

Jim pulls you in for a soft kiss before taking over Duncan’s armchair. Finished with your present duties, you inspect your pile of presents. Along with the underwear and bath products, you have a new Chanel bag from Duncan, some surprisingly comfy slippers from Jerome, make-up and red nail polish from Michael, chocolates and an iPad from Jim. But it isn’t the presents that has you so content, it’s seeing you favourite people together and happy. You wouldn’t trade any of them for anything in the world. It’s times like these that you are truly thankful for Christmas.

‘Used my discount,’ Jim winks, clearly proud of himself. ‘Didn’t use the bank of Duncan once.’

Michael has enough new designer clothes to kit out his wardrobe, but he’s most intrigued by a spell book gifted by Jerome. He’s been pouring over it with Miri for the past half hour, his lips mouthing incantations. You’ve had to stop the Christmas tree from levitating twice now.

‘Where did you get a spell book from?’ Duncan asks, taking a peek over Michael’s shoulder.

The Antichrist, leans back and presses a kiss to Duncan’s cheek, ‘It’s very interesting. Both dark and light magic.’

‘Egypt.’ Is Jerome’s simple answer,

‘Egypt?’ Jim echoes.

‘Or was it Persia?’

‘Persia doesn’t exist anymore.’

‘Or Rome.’

‘I give up.’ Jim sulks, ‘I’m gonna check where Dina is.’ He leaves the room, already making the call.

Xavier sighs, ‘Well since I pulled the short straw I’d better get going on Christmas dinner. Jerome, you wanna help do potatoes?’

‘Sure.’ Jerome follows Xavier out into the kitchen, ‘Besides, I haven’t had a chance to properly grill you yet.’

‘Grill me?’

Michael beckons you over, nudging Duncan aside to make room for you. The Media Mogul has been lazily letting Michael run his fingers through his hair completely absorbed in Michael’s spell-book.

‘I have one more present for you, the usual trinkets aside.’

‘You’ve already got me things.’ You say, dropping between the two men and sitting Miri on your lap. Her head falls against your breast as you press a kiss to the top of your head.

‘I know, but I couldn’t resist making this for you.’ Michael murmurs. Duncan meets his eye and then collects Miri in his arms.

‘Come on trouble, you can help Daddy Duncan make some Christmas Bellinis.’

‘No alcohol!’ You and Michael both chorus before catching each other’s eyes. You laugh it off, snuggling a little closer to the Antichrist.

‘You made something for me?’

Michael produces a long, thin black box. ‘I…’ He clears his throat, ‘I wanted to make it perfect and…we’ve known each other for so long that I…I wanted to stand out if you will. Ever since Duncan became your official husband I’ve…I can’t help but admit that I’ve felt the overwhelming need to give you something that is entirely mine.’ He plunges on before you can interrupt, ‘I’m not jealous. I’m not bitter or upset.’ He insist, eyes shining with the truth. ‘I love our family, everyone equally. But, we have Miri and we so much history I…well…here you go. Merry Festive Day, Y/N.’

He opens the box, revealing a blood red rose. Dew drops linger on the rose, frozen in time as you take it out of the velvet lining. ‘Oh Michael,’ You whisper, inspecting the de-thorned perfection. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It will remain in full bloom.’ He says, voice full of pride and eagerness. ‘So long as I love you, this rose will thrive. So in that instance, it is everlasting.’

You can feel tears coming as you kiss him deeply. ‘I love you so much,’ You whisper, ‘It’s the most perfect gift.’

‘Just that extra something.’ He smiles, ‘Display it however you like. It was this or…well I did mention to the boys whether I should round up your worst enemy and present them to you bound and gagged to do as you like. But Jim didn’t think you’d like it as much as this.’

You snigger, patting his thigh gently. ’No I much prefer this.’

‘Dinner help please!’ Xavier’s voice rings from the kitchen, ‘Jim’s burning down the apartment.’

You smirk and place the rose back in it’s box, ‘Will you keep it safe for me? While I put out the fires?’

‘What would Christmas be without a little fire?’ Michael tucks the box under his arm.

‘A perfectly ordinary and boring Christmas.’ You say, walking into the kitchen only to find the Ham half burned. Jim is downing a Bellini, while Xavier is caught up arguing with Jerome about the mashed potato. Duncan seems to be safeguarding the coffee machine, while the twins sit in their highchairs, two pictures of innocence. Miri turns to Michael and beams at her daddy, ‘Weed.’

‘And we’re nothing like normal.’

Thank you so much to everyone who has read and gone on this adventure with me. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This took a lot of time for me to write, put together and work on without a beta all on my own. A like or a reblog would mean the world so if you enjoyed, please do share this!

Merry Festive Christmas!

30 notes · View notes

minalous · 5 years ago

Text

Zeus: King of Gods (m)

pairing: jungkook x reader, namjoon x reader ft taehyung x reader

description/warnings: jungkook!god, since he is Zeus of course he will be a little bit dominant, namjoon!god, namjoon is Dionysus so please yes, namjoon likes creating and inspiring ecstasy, smut happening, oral (f receiving) || You find yourself in disbelief when a young man swears he is the God of Sky, Zeus. It doesn’t take long until you take him seriously. “I’m here to save you, I’m here to ruin you.You called me, see? I’m so sweet”

genre: smut | angst | fluff

words: 6.2k

♡

Why on earth you decided to come here after such a long time? How the hell did you find yourself involved into a seminar you never wanted to take in the first place? The questions that keep bugging through the whole lot of your journey. Going back to Greece is not the problem, you are always into taking some vacation in the country which had you hooked into archaeology. It will only be for a week, seven days you can devote into relaxing and being away from work.

Travelling all the way to your destination takes more than twenty hours, time you could possibly spend home to relax and have some time for yourself, a great opportunity that your best friend took away from you. He had to stay back home since the nature of his work did not offer a lot of time off. Being your assistant does not give him enough time to get vacation, maybe that is your fault, only partially.

"You are aware of the situation you got yourself into, right?" you whisper to yourself while struggling to get past your fellow passengers. The airplane has just landed, a few minutes earlier than expected and it works perfectly in your favour. You hurriedly grab your cabin bag, making the best of efforts to avoid the people surrounding you.

What you do not expect is the rain pouring down as if the sky itself opened in half to rain down waterfalls. It is beautiful to watch but right now you desperately need to hurry and go to your hotel. You are thankful you know the closest way to go there, the traffic is horrible due to the downpour.

It does not take you long to get to your hotel, the decision you made not to take a taxi was wise, the traffic is getting worse and worse by the minute. The lobby of the hotel is enormous, the heat of the air conditioning sends waves of pleasurable warmth all over your body. The rain seems to have gotten your clothes so wet that only now you can tell how much it has affected you.

"Hello. I have booked one of your suites" you say while you try to reach out for your phone inside your purse

"Hello, Miss. Under what surname have you done the booking?"

"It should be under the surname Kim. My assistant made it for me. It should be under Kim Taehyung"

"Yes, Miss. You have booked the Crimson suite for a month."

The man's words snap you out of your thoughts, staring blankly into his direction as you try to remind yourself how many days you have decided to stay here.

"I am sorry. I think there has been a mistake. It should be for a week."

"Let me check again then, Miss."

You now keep searching for your phone furiously, there is no mistake made apart from the one Kim Taehyung that has lied to you and has arranged an extended holiday for you without your permission. You make a quick phone call while waving to the man in the reception that you are on the phone.

"Hello, hello" you hear his voice "how was your trip, baby?"

"Don't baby me, Tae. Why the hell did you book the suite for a month?"

"First of all, you are welcome?" he fake laughs at you "and secondly, please do take some vacation. You are fucked from work. Two years in the row with no holidays. Just relax. The company will be fine without you" he adds

"I doubt that" you tell him "but I trust you."

"Now say you are sorry and thank me, because we have been through hell these last couple of months." he says in a worried tone "especially you and I after all those incidents"

"I am sorry, Tae. I should not have dragged you into this"

"There will always be incidents, baby. I like going on trips with you, but this one take in on your own. Spend some time with yourself, think about your next steps. Maybe I will come meet you there. You like the Ancient Greek Gods, right?"

"Yes" you say in a lower voice "Thank you for remembering that."

"Anything for you, baby." you can tell he is smiling "Call me when you are done with your check in, yeah?"

"Yes, Tae. Thank you again for everything. I don't know what I would do without you." you are truly blessed to have him in your life

"No worries, baby. I love you"

"I love you too, Tae"

"Bye. Have fun" he says cheerfully

"Bye"

Lucky, that is what you are to have Tae in your life. He organised this trip and vacation for you, for your well being. He truly is an angel. You have known Taehyung your whole life. Since you can remember yourself, he was there, has always been there. To protect you, to guide you, to fight for you.

"Miss, I have checked the booking twice and it says it is for a month. It has already been paid."

"It is okay. I was on the phone with my assistant and we clarified the dates. Thank you for checking though" you smile at him

"Here is your key, miss" he hands you the key "your personal assistant will help you get to your suite"

"My what?" you say in confusion

"The VIP guests have a 24hr private assistance. It is the same as having a butler, Miss. Your assistant has provided this service for you."

For the love of god, why is he such a baby?

"Thank you for letting me know. Have a goodnight"

"Goodnight, Miss"

Your personal assistant as the receptionist said, helped you get to your suite. Apparently it is not a service provided only for the hotel premises. He is assigned to accompany you through the whole of your accommodation. The more you look at him, the more he looks like a bodyguard rather than a personal assistant. You cannot deny he looks more like a model though. He is tall, well built, tanned skin, beautiful blonde hair. He looks like an old forgotten god.

"Here is your suite, Miss. Please call me if you need anything. I will be outside. Have a good night." he says while he is about to close the door

"Thank you for youryou help. Before you leave, what is your name?"

"Namjoon, Miss" he replies and bows before closing the door for you

The next few days get by smoothly, day and night you do those things you missed the most; shopping, reading, cooking your favourite meal. Namjoon accompanies you everywhere you are to go. He mostly never talks, only if necessary. It is quite enjoyable to have someone by your side after such a long time of being alone when doing every day chores. Much more enjoyable when this somebody who offers you his company is so beautiful.

You do not want to make him uncomfortable but you stare at him from time to time, your eyes keep tracing his movements; he opens every door for you, he brings you coffee every morning and he weirdly enough guessed the coffee you like right, he silently does whatever you need and want without being asked to do so. He never exceeds limits and boundaries. He is a gentleman.

The last place you find yourself in is one of the finest wine shops in the city. You are not the best to choose when it comes to wine. Over the years you had a lot of bad experiencesexperience with wine, especially after bad days, drinking your sorrows away. Namjoon approaches you carefully, a smile on his lips as he questions you.

"I am sorry to interfere, Miss, but what kind of wine would you like to consume with your food?"

"I always preferred red wine to any other wine" you lower your voice and lean towards him, almost whispering "you may not know, but in ancient Greece they loved red wine"

"Is that so?" Namjoon asks in curiosity, a faint smirk plastered on his lips

It feels so fun to have him here with you, able to share the knowledge you hold for ancient history and mythology.

"They had Dionysus. He is mostly known as the God of wine but I always loved him for his contribution in the arts and literature. He was so loved and he was so important for a lot of people back in the days. Real or not, he did his part." you tell him, two bottles of red wine in your hands.

"Thank you.." he says in awe before walking to the till "For letting me know. But I believe you should buy these bottles of red wine. Something stronger will help you relax"

Namjoon carries the bags with the bottles back to the car, your mind already trying to figure out what you are going to cook back home. There is basically nothing left except for fruit you have bought a couple of days ago and some steak you would end up throwing away. You are not bored, just too tired to cook.

"Namjoon?"

"Yes, Miss?" he replies softly

"Would you..? Never mind" it's too childish to ask him to cook for you

"Is there something wrong, Miss?" Namjoon drives the both of you back home, almost reaching back to your destination

"No, nothing wrong. I wondered if you could possibly cook for me?" you end your request with a question mark floating in your tone

You can hear Namjoon chuckling at the front driver's seat and it would hurt your pride if you did not know he is not the type of person to mock you.

"I would love to" he pauses for a minute "I mean I am happy to cook for you, Miss"

As you show him where the things you have bought are, Namjoon takes off his suit jacket which has you baffled. Where was he hiding all these muscles? You try to shake off the feeling of arousal by opening one of the bottles you just bought. With your hands pouring a glass of wine, you reach out to give a glass of wine to Namjoon but you are not ready for what you are about to see; Namjoon is slowly rolling up his sleeves, veiny arms now exposed to all of their glory.

"Wow" comes out as a whisper from your lips

"Thank you, Miss. How would you like to have your steak?"

Is he thanking you for your comment or for the wine? You clearly are clueless

"Medium to medium well would be fine"

"It will not take long." he reassures

You sit at the other side of the table, taking in the beautiful view he provides while he is so concentrated on cooking your meal. The glass of wine you hold in your grasp is already empty, not blaming yourself for finishing it so quickly. It helps you drown the improper thoughts you have for Namjoon.

It seems to you that your body is not listening to you, insatiable the way he moves around you, how he touches things, the depth of his voice as he asks you the simplest of things. Is he real? You have never felt so attracted to anyone before, eyes stay stimulated on his figure, the more you stay focused on him, the more you want to get lost into him.

Is it the wine talking, is it him that makes you lose yourself?

"You should stop drinking if it makes you so dizzy"

Namjoon is sitting right next to you, holding his distance as expected from a gentleman like himself, showing you the empty bottle in his hand.

"When did you manage to finish it?" his voice is smooth like silk

"I don't know. I don't remember" these are the very last words you remember falling from your lips

Black velvet, green, red; colours that are decorating the room you found yourself in. The touch of velvet under your skin has you shiver from pleasure, the feeling travels down your heat and it makes you moan involuntary. Everything is set to maximum; the noises, the voices, the music, the smells, all of your senses are heightened and it feels ecstatic.

Your clothing is different from what you were wearing beforewearing on before, a dark green silk dress covers only the parts in need to be unseen, your exposed skin shuddering under the chilly air. You move around the room to find the door which would let you further explore and you know there is no escape. That is all you can feel and remember every time you see the same dream - more of a realistic nightmare rather than a dream. The same mansion that would offer its cold, empty halls, full of dust and loneliness.

Extravagant staircases with a design seemingly invaluable as if it held too much history in it, stairs crying out full of agony to you, calling out your name. You would always stare around you, lost and alone you wanted to reach out to anyone. But there is nothing to be seen, as far as your eyes can see there is only one light of life that is staring back at you with the hope you will reach out to it.

"There is more of me waiting for you in here" you can hear a soft, smoky voice trying to lure you into the depths of the mansion.

With eyes fixed on the light trying to guide you, you have no doubt that this whole scene unravelling in front of your very eyes has to be nothing more than a dream which feels so real, so real that it may be true. Your feet drag you further into this mansion, the mansion responsible for all those sleepless nights but the further you get into the mansion, the more fearless you get. Why is it so? Why do you have no fear for what it is to come?

The so familiar sweet, intoxicating scent hits your nostrils and you know you are about to see the same scene you have seen so many other times. Once you notice the beautiful women in front of you, the man who haunts you every time is right there, standing proudly surrounded by all those women. Women so beautiful that would put models into shame, music echoing all around you, grapes and other kinds of fruit surrounding the small of tables next to them which is there to feed their hunger, wine in their hands to quench their thirst.

"I knew you long time ago" the man's voice comes out in a whisper but it reaches you, making the hair on the back of your neck rise.

"I have been waiting for you.." and the man who is standing there is no other than the man who stands beside you every single day

"Namjoon.." it seems so unreal to see him but there he is, ready to haunt your mind and it makes you want to believe it is Namjoon, maybe you crave for him..

His voice has this power to make you surrender, not that it would take a lot to have you drop your defence and listen to what he has to say. Your attempt to focus on him is nothing more than a failure as he walks towards you, the room getting bigger and bigger as he comes for you. Had you known his touch would cause you to lose your senses, you would have never let him touch you. This kind of sensation is something you have never experienced before, the smallest touch his skin offers would make fire spread everywhere on your body and once his eyes meet yours, oh those eyes, you know, you know he is up to no good.

"It's not your body I want, it's your mind" he whispers to you, hands searching for your waist

"Just listen now.."he continues "listen to the sweet melody of my music and follow it." The man now offers you a drink that you happily accept, the sweetness of the drink hitting your lips and from the taste of it it probably is wine and honey.

It is an instant feeling like a warm hug, the sweetness of the wine running into your veins and the rising of a new temptation can be seen into the both of you: lust for life. Only a few inches are separating you from kissing the man in front of you, only a second away from giving into your instincts. You know from his movements as you look deep into his eyes, you know from the way he is leaning into you: he really craves to kiss you. With lips instinctively opening to let him claim the kiss he asks so desperately to have, you let him wrap his hands around your waist and hold you closer to his larger frame. He is about to kiss you, lips and eyes closing to you.

"You are not about to seal your fate, Son."

You can feel the man getting tense under his, what he claims to be, father's words. He holds you closer, hands wrapped around you like wings that are meant to protect you.

"She is not meant to be here to see you, this is a world I have created for her and I. She is to be here to meet me every night." The voice you can hear from this man is a voice you have been hearing since the beginning of your weird dreams. It has to be the beautiful man you have been dreaming of, the man who lives inside this mansion.

"She is not to be exposed to the cruelty you and your brothers are to unleash. This is a war you brought upon yourself, Father"

"You are mistaken if you believe that I am to bring her into a war if I weren't sure I can keep her safe"

"But father, isn't it better if she loses her true self once and for all?"

"She is far too precious to have her true self die. She can get reborn to claim what she is rightfully owed" he says and you can feel his voice getting closer to where you stand "she is twice as important as you and I are, Dionysus."

"How come you believe she has the power to destroy them?"

"Because the Fates have shown me.. I have seen what she is capable of. And she can bring the end of days. Their end"

The ancient words echo around the stones of the temple, seeping into the foundation, just like the way the syllables of his voice bleed into yours. The sound of silence echoes louder once his presence fills up the temple, the power flowing from within his body is equal to no power known to you.

"Wake up, wake up and come find me" the voice of an angel pulling you out from your dream and urging you to wake up.

You find yourself safe and sound back in your apartment, the dream you had seemed so unreal right now when you have time to rerun all of the events that took place inside your dreamland. How could you have possibly faced two Greek gods without being harmed from their aura? Being you, you knew how dangerous it is to face beings of that nature; ancient, old, powerful, creatures that withheld powers able to destroy the earth.

There is the need to figure out what the dream is hiding behind the words of you being a goddess, only if it was true, only if the words spoken were real. To the core of your being you secretly hoped it was real. Who was the one who showed Zeus you were powerful? Because there can be none other than Zeus the one Dionysus was talking to, the King of Gods. If he were not to be the most powerful what were you to overpower him?

In the heat of the moment you become angry at your oblivious ignorance, guilty of believing into a dream which is nothing more than drunkenness mixed with the twisted reality you have created. You despise the person you have become with hours and hours spent to find things you cannot see, heartless to people in need of you. Only purpose in your life is to discover the hidden Olympian Gods, a purpose leading you to madness.

The library that is conveniently placed within the hotel is the quickest way to have access to some of the books you want to have a look at, Zeus's family tree is the first of things you need to search. There were so many powerful Gods and Goddesses, or probably still exist if your suspicions are to become real. You dress up quickly, shoes in hands and ready to go to the library.

"Where are you going, Miss?" Namjoon's voice sends you chills and your whole body freezes on the spot as if somebody caught you doing something illegal. The dream you had no long ago is the reminder of a faint chance of Namjoon being a God. One of the Gods you loved and treasured the most.

"I want to go to the library to look something up. Can you please go grab us some coffee?" you say in the sweetest voice. You do not want to alert him, not until you are sure of his intentions.

"Of course" As Namjoon heads out for the coffee, you find the chance to have some time ahead in finding what you were looking for. You do not know exactly what to look for but the genealogy tree would be a good start.

Hundreds of books are surrounding you but now you are no longer blind to the truth, your hand aiming towards the one and only book in here that can help you.

"I hope you are the one book that can help me" you mutter to yourself with the book in your hands. With complete attention in the book you are reading, you lean on the bookcase, devoted to finding a clue to help you out.

"Maybe it is not a book you are looking for but a being" the sweet, soft voice you just heard is familiar, a voice you are sure you have heard before.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you" you say and continue reading your book.

"Through ancient times, gods and goddesses walked on this earth, creatures older than the time. They held powers greater than the human mind could think of, the possession of anything mystical the universe could be in possess of.

The long forgotten story of the woman who prayed to Nyx to spare her child before getting devoured from her husband, Erebus, the personification of the deep darkness and shadows. The child was told to be the child of Chaos, the creator of all, and that Gaia and Tartarus were not the only ones. He had an affair that brought her into the world, a lover who he loved more than Nyx but he could never allow a bastard to have a claim to his throne the same way Zeus did to his father."

Mind deep into thoughts, the book you are reading repeating words you could not understand. The man next to you took it away from your hands, not before he could touch your fingers, offering to translate for you.

"I'm here to save you, I'm here to ruin you. You called me, see? I'm so sweet" these are the words you could not translate

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you" he continues "but these are not words in need of translation. This is me letting you know how long it took me to find you, to have you so close"

"Let me introduce myself, luv" the man takes your hand in his, softly bringing it on his lips to kiss it "I am Zeus. You may already know me"

Yes, you already know him. And you feel you are his. The connection you feel between the two of you is undeniably strong, indestructible, a bond that has been created through years and years of getting to know you, a relationship he was aware he needed to create.

And there you are after unwillingly calling for him; the being who you are to face is one of those beautiful beings you got to know in your dreams, dreams you never knew until recently were real, now being here with him, with no fear or regrets. If you are to die in his hands, let it be. If you are to be held captive in his castle of mysteries, let it be. As long as he has you in the grasp of his hands, holding you tight in his arms, he could be the drug running in your veins, he could be the one to ruin you. He is what you want, you are what he needs.

His whole world is nothing you have seen before and inside your mind you are fighting through the pain to be what he craves for. Too much power dripping down from his fingertips but it is you who have the nectar he is quenching for; you are the purest creature he has laid his eyes on after thousands of years.

Zeus is the name he is known for the last thousands of years but the name he goes with now is Jungkook. He asks you to call him that as he guides you back inside the mansion you have been dreaming of. Relief rushes through you as you come to realise you will no longer be in a constant battle with yourself, there will be no fear of you losing your mind.

Jungkook guides you further than you have ever been inside this mansion of his, the lingering feeling of his hands on your body comes back to haunt you when he places a long, slow kiss on your neck. He knows how your body reacts to every of his touches, he commands it to submit under his will and it happily obliges. You cannot tell how long it has been since he has been pleasing you with his tongue and fingers but there is one thing you can tell; he craves to love you, it's all he has.

"Stay there, with your legs open for me. I am not nearly done with you yet."

He sweeps your juices with the back of his hands after licking the remains with his tongue. He is looking like a thirsty man on a hot day under the sun, searching for water.

"No one can stop us now. You are my nectar. I am your lover"

You ignore the strange chalice he has offered you, sipping down the deep red liquor inside it.

"Sky and earth is ours. Chaos and night is ours. The day is ours. And now you are mine.. Mine." and with a knee bend down before you, your body laying down beautifully on the daybed, he leaves open mouthed kisses along your legs, spread already as he has asked you.

"And I am yours. Only yours"

The morning sun creeps through the large windows to drag you out of your dreams, Jungkook laying beside you, eyes searching for your.

"Good morning.." he tells you softly "You have been sleeping for a long time"

"Good morning" you say before making your way to the edge of the bed

"I know you still have so many questions" he tries to say but you interrupt him

"I need you to show me" you say in a broken voice "I need you to show me what happened to me. When you gave me the drink last night, I remembered some things, I had broken memories of my past"

"So it worked" Jungkook says more to himself than you

"Please show" you plead

"I'll show you" Jungkook moves his body closer to yours, hands coming to gently touch your temples, soon your head is flooded with images.

The most beautiful woman appears in front of your very eyes like a dream; long black hair, black eyes, porcelain skin. She was as beautiful as the night. "Nyx" you can hear from a man behind her "You have to hide her. She is in danger" You cannot see the man but you can still see the beautiful woman. "Mom" slips from your lips. Mom? This is your mom.. The mother you have been searching your whole life. Nyx is your mother.. "Erebus is near. He can sense her. Please hurry" "Take her, Chaos. Please take her and protect her." "You know that Erebus is no match for you. Why are you so afraid?" "I do not wish him to know of my creation, of my child." Chaos is staring back at her with a look of understatement on his face. "He never knew you created more of you, did he?" You can see your mother tearing up, your father must have never known, must have never accepted your mother has created you. By the look of it you must be much more powerful than the liking of your father. "She is my beautiful light, Father. She is the one to bring the sun in my darkest nights, she is the one to create the air we, Gods, breathe. You created the universe and being your daughter, I wished to create two beautiful children for Erebus and I, but she has all of me in her little heart. She is perfect. But Erebus is scared of her and her powers. Please help me lie about her, help me save my child"

Chaos is holding your small hands inside his, your eyes fixed on your mother that is trying her best not to cry and you may not have understood why back then, but now you do. She is about to lose her whole world, the only child she was able to have and hold in her hands. She is the most powerful being after Chaos but her only thought is to protect you from the harm your father may bring upon you. "I will always love you" your mother says and in the blink of an eye you find yourself in a different world.

"You are safe here" Chaos tells you "we are thousands of years apart with your father. You are so small and innocent." Chaos leaves a small kiss on your forehead before continuing "This is the right place for you to live and grow up. When he finds you, take the right decision. The world is upon your hands. Your children's desire will be to destroy the world you will come to know as home. Would you wish to save it, you will get reborn as the Goddess your mother wished you to be. Would you find the world you live on to be corrupted, let your children destroy it."

Every single one of the rest of your memories are from your current past. The rest of your story is to be told from Zeus, the son of Cronus and Rhea.

"You now know why you are here, why we cannot have you ignore your true nature." Jungkook seems to need the world saved from his parents

"You are scared" you say softly "you are scared I won't help you"

"There is one part of the story that you are yet to know. And it is not that I am scared of your decision, I am worried about the power you hold in the grasp of your hands" Jungkook has you face him, with a soft kiss on your lips he feels it coming, your true nature lurking in the darkest corners of your mind

"You inherited part of your mother's powers. You have the powers of three Gods. This is the reason Nyx had you hidden for thousands of years. No God was to hold so much power, luv. You are so unique" Jungkook says as he kisses you deeply "No Goddess can compete to your beauty" he breathes between the kiss, fingers finding their way to meet your heat "no Goddess can destroy and save worlds like you" his fingers enter with ease your wet core and your pretty moans fill the room "So beautiful you are.."

"I cannot afford to lose you, I cannot walk away from you now that I have found you. I need you to stay with me and save this world. I love my humans and the world" Jungkook never stops until you come undone on his fingers, licking the remaining of your wetness.

"I am here to worship you" Jungkook whispers as you fall asleep in his arms

Day after day you notice your powers overwhelming you, it has been so long since Jungkook has witnessed pure power, power in its rawest form. When Jungkook got to see you control the night sky, summoning the stars to show themselves to you, the small glimpse of his smile filled you with pride.

"Love the stars, love the moon" Jungkook tells you "I love you"

He carefully places a kiss on your forehead, a kiss full of love.

"We are equals now" you tell him, the view his balcony offers is breathtaking and to have him hug you is more than enough to make you happy

"I think I can't get enough from your touch" he says "you say a lot of things that drive me insane"

"I can say a lot more, a lot more when you are with me" you say

"Immortality becomes you, luv" Jungkook teases you

"I think I am starting to like it. Immortality may not be a bad thing after all"

Jungkook is taken aback by your words, he seems to not agree with your newly found liking in immortality, in the new life you are given.

"Immortality" Jungkook starts" Immortality comes with insatiable need, exquisite pain. Immortality holds its own privileges and downsides. Knowing about my world may get you hurt and I cannot allow that. You were able to awaken your powers, your immortality.. but no power comes without burdens."

"A leap of faith, that is all we need" you say "we need to be strong until we find where my full potential can take me. You mentioned that three different gods are within me, powers unknown to any of us"

"You shouldn't have to carry all that burden alone" Jungkook holds you tighter within his arms "The fate of the world should not be your responsibility"

"But the people living in it are my responsibility, they are our creation. We should save them from your parents. From all the Titans that wish to destroy the world"

"The world is an awful place. Best to meet it on its own terms. People are not good anymore, nor pure" he says but he does not mean it, not wholeheartedly

"No the world isn't awful" you tell him softly "People are not awful. They want to be good. Something makes them bad, something breaks them down, makes them snap. We all must stand alone against our demons. And humans are not determined to face their demons anymore yet. We have to help them"

"What if one day their demons become mine to fight? In what end am I to defeat the Titans, those Gods who want to bring an end to all humanity?"

"You are not alone anymore. You have me now.." you reassure him

"I am older than you, even if you came before me, I want to guide you to the old ways, to the old days when everything was beautiful and in harmony" Jungkook smiles at you

"And yet you remain so obstinate to the desire to kill your parents" you chuckle

"I do, my luv. And until the day Tartarus opens its gates for my parents, we are safe up here."

"And when is that to happen?" you ask him softly

"In the next full moon" Jungkook almost whispers

Eyes on the night sky, eyeing the half moon which is so bright, so full of life and promising to the stars around it. You raise your hand as if trying to reach out to the night sky, twisting your fingers while your mind bends the will of the moon to arise, because the moon is yours, the night is yours, the air is yours, the sun is yours. The moon ceases to exist from the night sky and it finds its way to your hand, beautiful as ever to adorn the skin of your wrist.

"That can save us some time I think" you chuckle again

Jungkook looks at you in disbelief as he has never seen anyone hold so much power.

"Yes that will save us all the time in the world, but I am sure that nobody stands a chance against you, luv."

"I would kill for you, Jungkook. Even if it meant to kill all of the Gods."

"And I will live for you" he says with a kiss "Always and forever"

Jungkook is the one God you never thought you would believe in and the one God you came to love; Zeus, the King of Gods. And there are two more Gods you crave to see; your mother, Nyx and your father, Erebus. But the latest will not have the pleasure to feel your love; he will be more than welcome though to feel your wrath.

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