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depressing-debbie · 3 years

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fluffy alphabet for Bertholdt 💳💥💥💥💳💥💥💥💳 (if you want too ofc 💕💕)

Of courseee :)

I’m generally very unsure about the way I characterize Bertholdt, so if this is really crappy I apologize <3

As always, I'm using the prompt by @snk-warriors

Fluff Alphabet: Bertholdt

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

He definitely likes more private activities, like maybe a picnic, for special occasions or date nights. In general, though, he just likes spending time with his SO. On an ordinary day, he’s happy just sitting with them while they both do some work or just watch TV. He’s more enjoying being in their presence than whatever activity they’re working on.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

This poor baby thinks absolutely everything about their SO is stunning. Like every time they walk into the room, he’s taken aback by how amazing they are. But really he does admire their personality more than anything, and it’s what he fell in love with.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

I think he’s pretty uncomfortable at first just because he hates seeing his SO unhappy, and he really doesn’t know what to do. His instinct is to just sit down with them quietly and offer a shoulder to cry on. Unless they specifically ask that he do something else when this happens, he’ll probably continue to do it.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He honestly doesn’t think about the future much. He absolutely has a lot of inner conflict around his identity, and his future has never really been guaranteed. As long as his SO is with him, he’d be happy.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

It’s pretty equal, but I think he leads more towards a passive role just because of his personality. He’s a bit shy by nature, and arguably more of a follower than a leader, so I think he’d like to be the one that’s being protected in the relationship. At the same time, he’d definitely want to be the one protecting his SO, so it varies.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He doesn’t really instigate fights, and he’s not great with conflict. It makes him sort of retreat into himself, but because of how unhappy fighting makes him, he’s always open to talk and make up. He’s definitely rational in these situations, and he really wants to come to an agreement.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He is BEYOND grateful. In his eyes, his SO is absolutely perfect, and he doesn’t even really feel like he’s deserving of their love and attention. He thanks them constantly, and he truly and deeply appreciates everything they do.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

In general, he’s very open and honest with his SO, especially with things that are serious or important. But, he also cares about them and doesn’t want to see them get hurt, so if he finds something out that could make them upset, he may decide not to tell them. He doesn’t love it, but it’s his way of subtly protecting them.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

His SO is probably a huge inspiration to him. Again, he thinks they are so amazing, and the idea that they would want to be with him gives him the slightest boost in confidence. I think they also help and encourage him to branch out and try new things, so they’re helping him get comfortable with lettin loose a bit.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He honestly does get jealous sometimes. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his SO completely, because he does, it’s just that he begins to question whether they would be better off with someone else. He may start to pull away a bit when he’s jealous, which is pretty easy to spot. And he can be pretty easily reminded that he doesn’t need to be jealous, with just some hugs and positive words.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Their first kiss was VERY awkward. He planned it for a while so the general pacing fit the relationship, but he probably messed up the timing in the moment, and it was really unexpected for his SO. It wasn’t bad necessarily, he just way overthought it, and he apologized about a thousand times afterwards. A bit later into the relationship, once he’s let himself relax a bit, it’s probably much easier for him, and he’s actually a pretty good kisser.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He spent a lot of time planning, again, but this time, I think he chose the perfect moment. They were probably just out for a late night walk when he looked over to see how beautifully the stars were lighting up their face, and he told them he loved them. It was really sweet, and he makes an effort to say it as much as he can from then on.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I don’t think he’s really though about marriage the same way that he hasn’t thought about his future. Legally combining another persons life with his when his own life isn’t even guaranteed is pretty frightening for him. But, if it’s something his SO wanted, he wouldn’t be opposed to it. He probably wouldn’t be the one to propose, but he’d be more than willing to help with the planning for the wedding (and he’s surprisingly good at it)

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Definitely something just a bit cheesy, like honey or darling. He also just loves to call you by your name, though, because he thinks it’s a beautiful name.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

There’s such a noticeable change when he first falls in love. He has an obvious air of confidence in his daily interactions, and he’s much less nervous in general. He also probably talks about his SO a lot more in conversation with other people, which is uncommon. He works hard to express it clearly for his SO, so he showers them with little praises and tiny acts of service.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He’s definitely a private person, especially with his relationship. His friends and family would be generally aware of it, and his SO is welcome to tell the people in their life as well. But he’s strongly anti-PDA; at most, he might hold their hand in a public setting or let them rest his head on their shoulders. He gets uncomfortable showing off something that’s meant for just the two of them.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

He’s incredibly empathetic to the point that he looks telepathic. He can almost always figure out what’s going through his SO’s mind at any given point and can predict how they will react to a situation. It also helps him be able to comfort them, and understand them more.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Probably a nice mix of both creative and cliche. He’s never gotten that cliche romantic relationship with teddy bears and dinner dates, so I think he’d indulge in that once in a while just to make his inner lonely teenager happy. But for the most part, he’s very creative, and they definitely don’t follow the confusing societal norms for relationships. He really is very romantic, though, even if it makes him a bit embarrassed.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He absolutely believes in and supports his SO more than anything! They are so terrific, and he knows they can do whatever they put their mind to. He’s only an optimist when it comes to them, and then he’s completely positive in the future. He admires their work ethic and strength in chasing their goals, especially when it’s something they’re passionate about.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

I don’t think he would want to spice things up very often, he really just enjoys their nice, normal routine. It’s cozy and peaceful for him, and if he had the choice, he’d stay that way forever. But he’d also be more than happy to try something new with his SO, especially if it’s something they’re really interested in. Even if he doesn’t end up enjoying it all that much, as long as they’re happy, he’s happy.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Again, Bertholdt is ridiculously empathetic with his SO, so much so that he can practically read their mind. Even if they’re going through something he has no personal experience with, he can understand it through them. The root of this is just how well he knows them, and how much he cares about them.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship is very important to him! He loves his SO so much, and they’ve helped him in so many ways. The relationship makes him really happy, and he probably wouldn’t trade it for the world.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

His SO gets sucked into his pattern of ridiculous sleeping positions. Some nights, they might end up getting pushed onto the floor. Most of the time, though, they just join right in with him and mix in with his crazy position. It’s pretty hilarious, and also pretty sweet.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He actually is really affectionate. Even though he can be pretty awkward, he’s so much happier when he can be physically close to his SO. It calms him down a lot, and it’s so much more peaceful. He probably wouldn’t initiate cuddling towards the beginning of the relationship, but once he gets more comfortable with them, he’d definitely go and just silently ask for attention by putting his arms around them and resting his head on their shoulder.

Y earning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

His SO is like his safety blanket, so I think he gets more anxious when they’re not there. He would never tell them that, though, because he doesn’t want them to feel bad at all. In fact, he would probably make himself more anxious trying to hide that he’s anxious, and it would just cycle like that. He probably just relies on his friends a lot while his SO is gone, and he does fine.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He would absolutely do what it takes to keep his relationship strong. He’s a total gentleman, and he really just wants his SO to be happy, so he’d go to any lengths to make this happen.

#attack on titan #attack on titan bertholdt #attack on titan headcanons #aot headcanons #shingeki no kyojin headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #snk headcanons #snk #bertholt hoover #bertholdt hoover #i love bertholdt #bertholdt headcanons #bertholdt fluff #bertoldt hoover #bertolt hoover

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW.

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed.

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it.

Thank you all!

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting.

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet.

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest.

“I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug.

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles.

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!”

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place.

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music.

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.”

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!”

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze.

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club.

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.”

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?”

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,”

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?”

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence.

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams.

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!”

“Am I that transparent?”

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!”

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat.

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful.

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle.

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether.

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh!

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures.

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily.

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead.

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme.

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray.

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch.

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat.

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life!

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt.

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on.

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise.

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly.

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply.

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together.

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it!

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have.

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door.

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me.

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth.

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly.

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?”

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim!

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs.

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own.

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up.

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants.

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak.

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter!

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door.

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates.

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve.

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor.

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it.

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress.

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle.

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again.

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine.

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine.

He moans.

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans.

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob.

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him.

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet.

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!”

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head.

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep.

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me.

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more…

When was the last time I had sex?

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,”

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive!

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling.

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off.

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust.

I squeak; he grunts..

Peeta holds me by the waist, “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts.

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe.

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body.

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still.

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath.

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs.

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean.

“Yeah,”

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully.

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today?

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.”

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?”

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—”

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely.

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine.

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips.

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time.

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…”

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed.

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door.

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is.

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep.

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily.

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave.

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking.

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!”

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself.

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!”

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint.

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?”

Ugh!

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with?

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit!

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?!

Oh shit!

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours…

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach.

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims!

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading.

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!”

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place.

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.”

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps.

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night…

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead.

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta?

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?”

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor.

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings.

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening.

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me.

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met.

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember.

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly.

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl.

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally.

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket.

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master?

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain.

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first.

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention.

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?”

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago.

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly.

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!”

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder.

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful.

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles.

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly.

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?”

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests.

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time.

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,”

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?”

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse.

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly.

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.”

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says.

“How old are you?”

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable.

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him.

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?”

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently.

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me.

“Please… stay with me…”

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly.

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me.

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow.

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?”

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really.

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk.

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole.

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.”

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together.

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally.

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?”

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically.

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes.

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?”

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?”

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit!

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all.

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle.

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out.

#alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 144 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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leejeongz · 4 years

Text

cix as your boyfriend

requested: yes, by anon

bx: (i don’t not need i do not need i do not need 🥲🥲🥲 ok maybe i need🥲🥲🥲)

♡ his favourite date- late night drive + music

♡ he’s the dj and the driver. you can just sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery. he likes the privacy that you two have without being locked away in a room. you two can talk for hours while he just drives, with no real plan on where you’re going.

♡ skinship- he’s annoying ASF, he just wants to be by you all the time. most skinship comes after teasing, to show you that he was just joking. he loves holding hands, wrapping his arm around you and linking arms in public, back hugging and resting his head on your shoulder sometimes too. at home, there is no limit. there is no skinship that he wouldn’t partake in with you.

♡ his love language- quality time. when you’re together, you’re not getting a word in edge ways. he tells you anything and everything, everything he’s seen, everything he’s eaten, EVERYTHING. but it’s only because he wants to share his life with you, even the moments you don’t see. he loves seeing you laugh at his stories and how your eyes light up when he’s around. but even when no one is talking, he’s content and doesn’t want the moment to end.

♡ kisses- he likes catching you off guard, pressing kisses onto any exposed skin at any time. he loves placing kisses onto your jaw line and then pulling away and looking at you expectedly with a grin on his face. he’s very proud whenever he gets to kiss you. deeper kisses are rare and usually lead to something more, but he’s not apprehensive to initiate them.

♡ uses pet names ironically, to tease you, especially in front of your friends. he has no shame and isn’t afraid to call you his flower anywhere he wants.

♡ he can sense when somethings upsetting you or you’re being off and he’s straight there to comfort you with whatever you need, hugs, a bath, even just a conversation. he’s NOT letting you be upset or down when you deserve to be happy :((

♡ the type of guy to want to stay home with you rather than go out. especially if you’re more on the introverted side. he just doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and thinks it’s more intimate.

♡ if he’s not getting all of your attention, he’s gonna be hella jealous. when he’s jealous, he can either get real mad or real pouty, but it’s usually something that you can reassure him on with some extra loving that day.

seunghun:

♡ his favourite date- escape room

♡ even if you never manage to escape because brain cells???? he still loves watching you try and helping you where he can. honestly, he’s no help at all because he’s too busy watching you, but you’re so captivating while at work like that hehe, can you blame him?

♡ skinship- his hand is always engulfing yours. he quite often gives you back hugs too. he prefers back hugs to normal hugs since he thinks they’re more innocent and sweet. he loves having you tucked under his arm when you’re sitting next to him, even if it’s in public. this boy does not care, skinship is the same at home or in public.

♡ his love language- quality time. when he’s not working, he’s with you. you do everything together, he values your company over anyone else’s. he knows you must miss him, because he misses you the moment you say goodbye. he wants to be the centre of your attention the whole time and he’ll do anything to make sure that he is.

♡ kisses- first of all he loves when you kiss his neck!! but your lips actually meet regularly. he likes to kiss you when you’re both tucked up in bed, he thinks it actually helps you both sleep better. he’s forever giving you pecks on your cheek too, but he knows when to stop so that it doesn’t become annoying.

♡ you first held hands after he asked you to compare hand sizes. he always thought of the moment beforehand and that your hands are probably a lot smaller than his, but the reality was they were only like 1cm smaller. but he thought it makes it easier to hold your hand so he prefers it this way ><.

♡ he will do anything to make you laugh or to make you smile. he’s hates seeing you upset or down, even if it is over the tiniest thing, so he’ll be EXTRA goofy and jokey with you until you’re happy.

♡ it doesn’t matter where you’re going, who you’re going with, what you’re gonna do, he’s gonna be there. and you can’t get sick of his presence so he doesn’t have to worry about that either

yonghee:

♡ his favourite date- thrifting together

♡ first of all he is NOT gonna get bored while shopping with you and is actually prepared to take an active boyfie role. he’ll help you pick out clothes that he thinks look good on you that you may have not picked out for yourself. when you come out wearing them from the changing room he smiles at you brightly while his heart is just going CRAZY.

♡ skinship- he strokes and pats your hair a lot, he thinks it’s endearing and it always makes you smile and blush, so he does it all the more. he’s a little shy when it comes to skinship, even when you two are in private. he’d rather tell you how much he loves you and show you through his acts of service. that being said, he does love placing tiny kisses on your forehead wherever you are.

♡ his love language- words of affirmation. sometimes all he needs is a little chat with you to make him do that little better. he wants to make you proud, especially since you go out of your way to help him. he often thinks about how lucky he is to have someone like you who gives him that boost of confidence without even realising what you do.

♡ kisses- very romantic. long, passionate kisses are rare but when they do happen, they take your breath away. when you two kiss, it takes away any struggles or any worry that you had for that brief moment. playful kisses are more frequent. he smiles into them and when he pulls away, he covers his mouth because he’s gone all shy 🥺

♡ he still gets a little bit shocked when you ask to do things with him. he’s like “what? me? why?” (his subconscious constantly wanting confirmation? we’ve all been there bby) and when you reply “because you’re my boyfriend” he gets EXTRA FLUSTERED

♡ the pet names he has for you 🥺 make you blush a whole lot 🥺 he hasn’t gone a day since you pair got together without calling you “honey” or “darling”, but he’s also created some more that suit your personality 😭😭

♡ definitely prefers calling you over texting you, or leaving you little voice notes. he likes leaving voice notes for you to wake up to when he’s not there and imagines your cute reaction when you listen to them.

♡ knows exactly what to say and when to say it. he can be flirtatious in a jokey way, but hidden under the laughter there’s sincerity and you know it

jinyoung:

♡ his favourite date- art museum

♡ as well as being able to giggle with you at all the suggestive 😼 art, he also likes having deep conversations with you about how you’re interpreting the art. he likes learning about how you think and how you feel. plus it’s an excuse for you to both dress up nicely and maybe even a little bit… matching.

♡ skinship- there’s not much pda, if any at all. i think he’s someone that would want to keep his relationship private, so not even hand holding in public. he’s that guy who waits for you to fall asleep just so he can wrap his arms around you or place a kiss on your nose. he likes resting his head on your shoulder while you watch movies together, sometimes he even falls asleep like that 😭😭

♡ his love language- acts of service. he really appreciates even the tiniest things that you do for him. when you cook for him, or collect his mail, or clean up while he’s resting after a busy day. he feels a little guilty since he knows that you have a life too though, so he’s never expecting you to do anything for him, which is why it’s even more lovely when you do.

♡ kisses- HOT AND PASSIONATE, DEEP KISSES. they always leave you flustered, but to make things even worse, he’ll then place his cold hands on your cheeks and laugh at how hot it made you. expect tiny kisses throughout the day on your hand or on your shoulder (but you cannot expect the surprise ones ofc which are even more frequent)

♡ his gift giving skills are out of this world. he remembers every date that he should and gives you something he knows that you’ll like, as well as the cliché but still nice things like flowers and chocolate. he gets so giggly when he gives them to you aww babyyyy

♡ gets so whiny when you say no to him 😭 it will be like 2am and he wants to come over but ur like “can’t you wait until tomorrow?” and then he ends up just coming over anyway to complain about you saying no

♡ uses his cuteness against you. either you love it and can’t resist it, or you hate it and give in just to make him stop.

♡ he likes fun but what he likes more is seeing you have fun. catching you smiling when you’re doing something or seeing you on pictures with a massive grin on your face makes him so happy.

hyunsuk:

♡ his favourite date- bowling

♡ seeing u in those shoes is enough. but fr he likes how light hearted it is and how fun it ALWAYS is with you. he almost always lets you win and when he does he pays for your drinks and food while you’re there. he does get a kick out of you getting it down the gutter 3 times in a row, even if it happens every time.

♡ skinship- not much for pda, maybe a little bit of handholding and a discreet back hug while you’re waiting in line. he loves being near to you though. at home, he’s more of a playful boyfriend. there’s lots of tiny little scraps on the sofa about who’s feet get the rest on the other’si laps, and who gets to sleep on the other’s chest in bed.

♡ his love language- receiving gifts. given that he can’t spend much time with you, he thinks about you a whole lot more than he does anyone else, and receiving gifts from you shows him that you do the same. more so than the gifts, he gets excited when he sees how excited you are to give him something. it’s endearing 🥺

♡ kisses- longer kisses are giggly but still full of passion and love. he can’t wait to put his lips on yours and soon becomes more and more comfortable with making the first move. he’s not one for giving little pecks, those are rare, but he loves when you surprise him with them.

♡ even though he always wants to make you flustered, he usually gets wayyy more flustered than you in his attempts to do so. his cheeks burn up and his hands come up to cover his face.

♡ okay this boy LOVES listening to you talk. looking into your eyes while you talk about everything and anything, just admiring everything about you.

♡ sings for you. all the time. even if you don’t request it he’s gonna be belting out a romantic song to you.

♡ sometimes he doesn’t even realise he’s done it, but he’ll drop something really sweet and romantic into a conversation and your heart will be thumping immediately and he’ll panic thinking he said something wrong.

#cix #cix imagine #cix imagines #bx #seunghun #yonghee #jinyoung #bae jinyoung #yoon hyunsuk #hyunsuk #cix fluff #cix reaction #cix reactions

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melissa-s23 · 4 years

Text

Private lesson

Sumarry: Janus try to decieve himself into a timeline where he can save his friends. He does not expect reality to offer him an opportunity to prove himself.

Word count: 3127

Characters: Janus Sanders, King creativity Sanders

Warnings: Sword fighting?? Idk please tell me if you think something else should be added here.

Author’s note: MY FIRST ONESHOT EVER COMPLETED! Yes! And the honor goes to @rondoel ‘s King!AU! ( @kingcreativityau ) :D Now: are the characters OOC in this? Most probably. Do I really care about it? Only a tiny bit. I only started to post Sanders Sides content here recently, but I’ve been a fan of the series for a few months now so I had time to read a lot of fic... however I’m still not sure on what I got wrong so if you have any criticism, positive or negative, please let me know! Lastly, this was at first supposed to be an animatic (on the song called ‘This is war’) but I have NO TIME to draw and lot of time to write so enjoy! When I do get time, I might try to animate a certain part of it that I don’t think I nailed that well in the fic. Anyway, I’ve been rambling for long enough. ENJOY!!!

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

Janus stood there, in the empty training room. Since King's return, he felt very conflicted, and he hated himself for it.

The king was merciless, he cursed Patton to make him look like a toddler, he removed Logan's vocal cords, he cursed Virgil into torturing himself into deadly downward spirals, and...

And he was very spiteful, he was angry... because he'd betrayed him.

Janus clenged his fist. He couldn't help but remember the look of betray and rage that his King gave him when he discovered his team-up with Logan. Those orange eyes that could burn him down on the spot. Those oh so intense eyes... Damn it, he was back at it again. This is over now. His king was gone. Now it was the King. The tyrant. The side who hurt his friends.

He was standing in the empty room, looking at his reflection by the mural mirror. His now half-half face looked so tired. Was he really this tired ? He was probably very very tired... but he'll rest later, as the memory of his most recent wound was still fresh in his head, replaying this utter humiliation, he just couldn’t sleep. Anger soon filled him up.

He could have tried to stop him. He could have tried to save his friends, and instead he just... froze. He just let it happen like he couldn't do anything. And he knew how to fight ! He knew how to defent himself for crying out loud ! He could've done something, and instead... Nothing ! He recalled the scene, bit by bit. How Logan stood at his left, how virgil was just behind, how the king was looming over them, despite being 10 feet away from them. He remembered every movement, every word, and every second of that moment like it was written in his metaphysical blood.

And in a second, it was like he was dragged back to this hell again.

And he would not let it happen a second time.

He summoned his cane and raised it up at the memory of King. His mind wandered off now. He had to imagine how he would've react. Would he summon his sword or take full creative control to just trap him ? He wanted to think he had a chance, so he chose the sword scenario.

And just like that, the imaginary fight was on. Step forward. Left. Right. Dodge. Go protect them. Put up a fight. He would have rushed toward the tyrant and aimed for the head, the sword would've get in the way and he could uses the top of his cane to project himself back to the group. Go. Dodge. Pare. Block and Dodge and Move fast and Dodge again and Block and pare and send it back. The world was spinning around him and the fight got more and more intense. He may have his eyes closed, but he knew perfectly where he was in the room, and he was completely in his daydream. Left and Right and Block again and Forward and Left and Block and backward and spin and swing the cane for it to stop only an inch away from the face of his enemy. He would have been a threat, and he would have been able to save his friends from the King.

He didn't expect, however, to be met with the actual King in front of him when he opened his eyes.

Janus' eyes widened and he immediately cursed himself for backing up. Great. He was all about putting up a fight and a second later, he was cowering. ‘Talk about blowing smokes.’ He at the very least kept his glare from fading away. He couldn't be scared of him. He couldn't show it. He was simply surprised... He had to make that a challenge for him, Deceit was not a side you could see right through, after all.

« You seem to have a quite... Interesting dancing style » King spoke, an almost mocking grin showing as he looked down at Janus. Crap. Did he knew ? Was he there the whole time ?

As the tyrant lift his hand, Janus snaps back into reality, setting his guard up and putting a stronger grasp on his cane. Only for the object to sudenly float in the air, shining with bright light and transforms into a sword that Janus grabbed back before it falls on the floor. This left only more confusion in the half-snake, confusion which turns into alert when he lifts his gaze back at the King only to be met with another blade. He jumps back.

« W... What ? » Janus was lost.

« Wouldn't you try and learn an acutal fighting technique ... » King's voice was composed, but also slightly amused at Deceit's confusion.

«... instead of the poor travesty I just witnessed ? » until it all vanished in favor of annoyance.

Janus tried to process the words as King switched his position for a dueling one. His sword in front of him, his torso on the side and his feet dug on the ground. Was he.... what ? What was happening ?? One thing sure was that he invited Janus to mirror his behaviour. And so he did, taking a deep breath, and standing still while carrying his sword to cross the others. And before he figured out what to do next, King took three blows and sent Janus' sword flying through the air and crashing on the ground.

« Whoa wHoa WHOA ! Hold on ! » Janus lifted his hands in defense and gulped as the blade of his enemy got dangerously close to his throat.

He then heard a chuckle, and the blade finally got away from his neck. « It was just too tempting. » He snapped his finger and the sword flew right back to Janus' hand, who was still confused.

« Alright, for real this time, I let you give the first blow. »

Janus hesitated, still not sure if the scene before him was really happening, but quickly composed himself. He came back to mirroring King's posture and came with a serious expression. He quickly analysed how he could start and how he could win the fastest. When he assumed to find a way to win quickly, he lifts his sword up and went for it.

Boy, was his assumption wrong.

He thought he'd move faster, but the moment the sword swingged on the left, King's weapon caught him off guard, and it only took two quick slays for Janus' to fly in the air again. He felt baffled and humiliated. And the amused smile from his opponent didn't boost his ego at the moment.

« How ? » He didn't understand. Even his instincts weren't nearly as fast as the King, and the tyrant didn't get the chance to train in years !

He only got an arrogant giggle in response before the sword flew back to Deceit's hand. Janus frowned deeper and dug his feet in the ground, ready to jump. King did not miss, nor cared for deceit's threat.

« Again. » He simply ordered. He only had to move his arm to be back to his initial position. Was there a point to it ? Or did his tyrant just liked to put him through this childish show of superiority ?

For some reason, Janus obeyed.

And lost.

Again.

« Try again. » the King ordered.

The other obliged.

After the 4th time the sword flew back into the yellow side, he had to face it : This was happening. King was training him to sword fight. And he just... accepted it ??? What ?? How was this happening ? Usually, he would try to bite back, make some remark, try to hurt him, but here he just... went along with it. And King seemed pleased with that. He looked...content. He looked satisfied with giving Janus private lesson. This moment... against all odds... felt... not as bad as he expected.

The more they fought, the less cold the tyrant was, and the less tense they both get. King stopped trying to bring him to his knees and instead looked like he a professor, excited to give his student something to work on.

Of course, he would never admit it, but in this instant, in this moment of intimacy and challenge devoted from any animosity... It was calming, it was like a fresh wind coming after a heat wave of chaos, and the adrenaline that came from the fight was giving him enough energy to savour every second of it.

Wait.

No.

No no no no no.

He wasn't enjoying it. He wasn't enjoying it at all. He could not appreciate what was happening : the sadistic bastard was bellitling him and humiliating him right now ! And worst part is ? He couldn't even do anything about it ! Because King is so freacking good at sword fighting and Janus' main weapon has been turnd into a sword for crying out loud. There was no time to lust over past relationship !

And another game lost.

« I told you to pay attention to what was happening high up. Looking at my chest is not going to do much if you want to predict where or when I'm going to hit next. I thought you'd know that. »

« I was simply lost in another train of thought, I hope you could forg- »

DON'T.

FINISH

THIS WORD.

'You be submissive, god dammnit.' He thought to himself before clearing his throat and returning to his cunning voice. He had to keep his distance.

« I don't need you to tell me that. I was simply lost in thought. Do you really I am this much of an idiot ? »

« Well, you didn't prove me otherwise yet so. » He chuckled low and got ready for yet another one. « En garde. »

Even though he couldn't hide the joy he was feeling at the moment, he could mask it behind his usual calm appearance.

« And how many times are we going to do this ? » He asked, his tone playing between teasing and bored

«Until you get some actual fighting skills. » King answered, playing along.

« Ouch. I think I prefer the wounds caused by your sword. »

« Well then hurry up and grab your weapon. » Damn it. Why did they seem to get along of all sudden ?

« As you wish. This was merely a warm up. » he lied

« I do not doubt it any second. »

And just like that, the conversation became non-verbal again.

…

Truth be told, neither knew how long they've been fighting. Was it an hour ? Three hours ? 20 minutes ?

Truth be told, neither cared.

All janus knew is that he was getting better and better, almost becoming a challenge to the King , and the other side seemed glad to step up and fight with more intensity.

And both completely forgot to hide their excitement.

Janus started to tease king, even when he was clearly losing, and the other responded with as much sarcasm and complicity. The two glared at each other with malice and playfulness the whole time. And both couldn't help but smile.

And just like that, it felt as if they never left each other.

When he was younger, Janus and his king would play around with wooden swords, roleplaying like two ennemy seeking vengence in the most childish way. Janus sometimes would fake losing so he could see his king's proud smile which was worth losing 10 times again. His king would sometimes lose and janus would feel a feeling of acomplishment that was very strange to him, in a pleasant way. And at the end, they would most of the time lay down on the green grass and just talk about everything and anything.

And right now, he felt like he was playing with his king. Only the swords weren't made of wood anymore, and it was more professional. But still, it felt the same.

And it felt ...pleasant.

He could hear himself laugh just like when he was younger, and if he listened closely, he could feel king chuckle just like his king.

And it felt … nice.

From the talk, to the movement, both were on edge, calculating every move and waiting for an opportinity to strike. It was an amazing strategy game combined with pure raw strenght. And King's fighting style was both very classical and yet creative. He was very crafty and Janus only had to rival with his own tricks. They were in the moment, living fully the present.

And it felt...

And dear lord, it felt so, so good.

He could feel himself fly as he dodged, he could feel fire in his vein when he was about to strike down, he felt his head spinning, yet everything around him was so crystal clear, it was like a dance. A disturbing, aggressive, cold and passionate dance.

A dance...

They used to dance before.

His king and himself.

Most of the time, when they were done fighting, they would lay down on the grass. Most of the time.

Sometimes, he could have the biggest honor of all.

'Now, my dear, would you enjoy a waltz with me ?' his king offered his hand

-'I don't want to step on your foot again'

-'I told you you didn't hurt me ! Come now, it's not your job to be scared.'

despite his defensive approach, he adored those dances.

-'Alright, I'll dance with you. '

How did it go again ?

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.

Left, right, right, wait no, was it left again ?

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

step up, forward, step back, and one turn and another. His king would have his hand on Janus' shoulder and Janus would have his hand on his king's waist. And they would dance, and the music filled the air, and his king would have made a room just for them to dance.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

Turn around, then left then back up.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

Then caught in their trance

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

They would just spin around, and turn and spin and spin again and everything was spinning around them and they could only see each other and the whole world was spinning and it was just them. Just the two of them.

And they would smile and they would laugh and everything was still spinning around them and it was blissfull, passionate, affectionnate and in they would join their hands once more and their finger would interlace and once their hands was only one thing, they would lift it in the air with bravery as a victory for their hapiness.

And he would lift his hand in the air, with his king.

And they would lift their hands, hold together, in the air.

And they would yell a victory choir.

King's sword fell on the ground.

And he had his hand on King's chest.

Oh lord, he was too close to King.

Their faces were only two inches apart.

And Janus visibly forgot how to breath.

King was staring with wide eyes, clearly not expecting Janus to send his sword flying nor getting this close. None of them dared move an inch, and none of them could breath.

What... what just happened ?

How could Janus get so caught up in his dreams that he erased whatever was happening in front of him ? And how did this stupid dance from years ago helped him beat the King to his game ? And how could he, despite everything, try to search for his king's eyes in the tyrant that stood in front of him ?

Right now, the King's red and green eyes were flickering into orange glimps and his look was just tearing Janus up from the inside. He looked ready to cut his throat open if he had his sword in hand.

And yet …

For only a moment, only for a single instant, did Janus find his King shining through the side in front of him.

Sadly, this bloom inside of Janus' heart got cut fast as thorns grapped him and pulled him far away from his The King, and before he realized what was happening, the thons just gripped tighter and tighter, making Janus unable to hide the jolt of pain.

He struggled, trying to get away from the grasp, but they only tightened and eventually, he stopped, gasping for air. He tried to look back at the tyrant, who was simply observing with a serious expression, the joy of the past moments seemingly dissapeared the moment Janus got too close. And now, he was back to being a threat. Without looking away, he move forward, with slow steps. Janus tried to manage a sentence but the pain was too high for him to form anthing coherent. Eventually, The King was in front of Janus, and the yellow side swore he was about to get killed right on the spot, but instead he just kneeled down, grapping back the sword that flew away.

Oh.

He got up and, with the other hand, brushed over the blade. Without looking away from it, he spoke : « You fought well. » He lift his eyes to meet Janus, struggling not to faint, and determined to look at him with rage. The corner of his lips twiched into the smallest of smirk and he turned back, opening the gap between the two.

And as the King took his steps, Janus' eyes widened, realizing what King was about to do.

'No.'

'No. Not again.'

'Don't leave. '

'Please'

'Don't leave me again. '

He turned into a snake to got away from the thorns and rushed towards him, ready to grip his cape. Anything. Anything but that. He was so close...

But the thorns got Janus back before he could make it.

He couldn't even hear his own grunts of pain. All he could listen to was the sound of footsteps, and a windblow that made King dissapear. Janus froze in place.

And the silence that grew in the room was deafening.

After what felt like an enernity, the thorns let go of Janus, who simply fell on his knees shaking. He hugged himself as hard as he could, and curled on himself.

He tried to fight back tears that wouldn't stop to threaten to fall.

And none of them ever left his eyes. Just like no wound ever left his heart.

------------------------- WHOOOOOO What a ride! This was really fun to write and the challenge of putting words on the visuals your head come up with is certainly something. Now, I hope you didn’t expect things for them to get better just like that, huh? ;) There is too much they need to discuss before being close to make peace, so that’ll have to wait! I have other ideas for those two so I’ll see if I get motivated to write it out. Hope you liked it!! :D

#Sanders sides #fanfic #janus sanders #king creativity #Kingceit #fanfiction #King!AU #rondoel #swordfight #The begining of Janus being a pinning disaster with a lot of emotional bagage #probably OOC #not a happy ending #Janus being a nostalgic little man #and King being conflicting as always #most probably screaming internally at the dramatic disaster in front of him #It's not easy being the king of a himbo's brain

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nct-lian · 4 years

Text

nct 127’s relation to lian

TAEIL + LIAN: IL-LI

taeil used to wake her up for school when she was still a teenager :((

such a soft but overlooked duo

will appreciate each other forever and ever

lian teaches him roasts in english that he can say to johnny

remain each other’s hype man and woman

taeil was the first to suggest he and the other nct members react to the trailers of her dramas on video so they can boost them in popularity

promotes the HELL out of lian’s solo career over twitter

lian loves coming up behind him and just giving him hugs because he’s soft (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

they watch movies together a lot! but taeil has to come down to the fifth floor because lian hates it up on the tenth one

he was once able to grab her hand in an airport and they held hands the entire time :(( a few pictures went a little viral

they share hoodies NSHDHSHCJA

lian keeps bugging him to get an instagram

taeil will ALWAYS take her side in silly arguments she and the other members have sometimes

he makes fun of her height because she’s shorter than him-

he also used to help her with her homework :(

cried when lian went on her first date

“my child is growing up (´∩｀。)”

had to do a background check on the guy before he even allowed him to come in contact with her again, though

JOHNNY + LIAN: JOANN

johnny is her dad, period

no questions asked he is her father

will give her piggyback rides all the time

he was once woken up by her jumping on his bed and asking if they could go shopping

at 6:00 am

he actually got up, got ready and took her shopping but since it was so early, the stores were all closed

he took her out for japanese fluffy pancakes, though!

whenever lian is sick, johnny makes her his mom’s homemade chicken noodle soup recipe :((

speaking of johnny’s mom, she loves lian to death and always asks johnny if he’s taking good care of her

if they’re not being asked any questions or having to translate anything during interviews, they always whisper jokes in each other’s ears to try and make the other one laugh

because of how lian dies during the trailer of her new drama, johnny cried in front of twenty-two other men while they reacted to it

he was NOT embarrassed

“how are you guys not crying? this is so sad. what a cruel world we live in ໒( ˵ •̀ □ •́ ˵ )७”

kept screaming at lian’s “dream of you” performance video

“WHY ARE YOU ON THE GROUND DANCING LIKE THAT?!” “JISUNG COVER YOUR EYES-“

he once effortlessly picked up lian and moved her somewhere else because she wasn’t standing where she was supposed to be

everyone says that their ship name is something a white, suburban mom would be named. now nctzens pronounce joann like “joanne” ･x･

it was said on the zach sang show that johnny used to measure her height every month to see if she grows or not, and that’s the only reason why he has her height memorized

TAEYONG + LIAN: LIYONG

has lost lian in so many airports it’s not even funny

“hyung, what happened to lian?” “oh, you have GOT to be kidding me-“

whenever he doesn’t see her he goes into panic mode and starts asking if anyone has seen his little sister

“about this tall with really shiny hair? her cheekbones are insane, i swear. OH OH OH SHE WAS WEARING JOHNNY’S HOODIE- you don’t know what johnny’s hoodie looks like.. okay, well thank you for your help.”

one of the first members that she was comfortable with

lian said that he was her role model :’(

as the leader, he’s always taking care of her and will not sleep until he knows for sure she’s eaten

because of how lian never participated in any of nct’s first bit of promotions due to being too uncomfortable around them, she was allowed to skip out on the viewings of their relay video letters

but she was still required to make one for somebody and that somebody was taeyong ˵ ຈ ︿ ຈ ˵

she said that she was glad he was her leader and that she hoped to become closer one day

he cried

declares that he will take care of lian till the day he dies

taeyong had yelled at lian’s former manager until he voluntarily quit working for her- he had found out that lian was being overworked to the point where she collapsed during their dance practice and he wasn’t okay with it

always cheering her on backstage when she performs solo

he always tries to include her in guiding the members for their dances because he knows how happy it makes her

instead of having her carry her glasses around with her, he does it instead :D

“nana, do you have to wear your glasses now?”

taeyong tucks her into bed every night he can ᕕ( ཀ ʖ̯ ཀ)ᕗ

YUTA + LIAN: YUN

totally doesn’t have feeling for her, yeah

yuta is obsessed and when i tell you he’s obsessed, he’s obsessed

did i mention obsessed?

he’s jealous of everyone :(

yun stans insist that the only reason yuta is so touchy with winwin and mark is because he’s trying to cover up his feelings for lian

bye if that’s true-

hyuck wanted to give her a hug (a rare occurrence) and yuta straight up just said,

“mine. go away”

i have proof guys :// johnny recorded it and literally posted it on instagram

lian died internally when yuta cut his long hair because she couldn’t put it into ponytails anymore :((

but his hair is growing back now so she’s able to do it again :)

yuta teaches her japanese every tuesday and thursday!

we don’t bring this up because it’s pretty embarrassing but,, when nct 127 were backstage before performing kick it, yuta asked doyoung (who was in a direction where he could get a clear view of lian’s face) if lian was staring at him

how do we know this, you may ask?

it was caught on camera and everyone made fun of him for a solid week straight

he’s caught staring at her from afar way too often for comfort

lian says that he’s very pretty

much like the other memebers that have instagram, he makes story countdowns that he posts about a week before lian plans to release her solo music

DOYOUNG + LIAN: LIDO

another member of the lian protection squad

doyoung was the first to start calling her cupcake

it all started when doyoung was sick and lian made him cupcakes to make him feel better

will slap anyone who makes a flirty remark towards lian

was embarrassed for yuta when he asked if she was staring at him

said “no” and walked away

lian is the only one who ever shows him any mercy :’)

they have very similar taste in decor so they often go shopping together for things to put around the dorm

doyoung said that he spends the most time in lian’s room because it smells like vanilla all the time

he spoils her SO MUCH

like so much

half the plushies she owns at the moment were gifts from doyoung

has a tendency to watch over her and make sure she’s content at all times

“cupcake, are you hungry? i can make you some food if you’d like” “oppa, it’s 3:00am-“ “and?”

they take such pretty instagram pictures :((

at one point in time, doyoung was jealous of his older brother because lian used to crush on him a tiny bit :0

not because doyoung likes her or anything, she just couldn’t stop talking about how nice he looked in revolutionary love

disapproves of the staff giving lian such short clothing sometimes

“um, excuse me, she can’t wear that. are you crazy? go get her a new outfit, please”

JAEHYUN + LIAN: JAELI

not many people bring this up because we know it’s honestly a sensitive topic :|

but he lowkey has deep feelings for her (he makes it so obvious sometimes it’s kinda disappointing to see how oblivious lian really is to it)

jaeli + yun love triangle anyways

jokes aside, though, jaehyun loves lian so so much

once cried to johnny about how he doesn’t know what to do and that he didn’t want to make anything awkward by confessing to her

makes sure to be near her as often as possible

once scared away a whole kim taehyung from talking to her during isac ╰[ ⁰﹏⁰ ]╯ (let’s pretend bts were there for 2019 pls)

“jungkook, keep your friend away, please :D”

didn’t work, though, because they ended up having a conversation later in the day either way

*in the 97’ liner groupchat* “HYUNG IM SORRY HE RAN AWAY I DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO DOl

it was uncalled for but what can you do amirite ┐(´～｀)┌

lian pokes his dimples a lot and squishes his cheeks

just randomly hugs him but he’s not complaining

johnny isn’t picking sides but he became team jaeli after jaehyun broke into tears in front of him for the first time since they were trainees about how much he loves lian

sad,, i know

lian judges jaehyun for not sleeping with sheets

continues to believe he is not a human being, but a robot created in a lab

jaehyun smiles at her for no reason

JUNGWOO + LIAN: LIWOO

an instant bond formed between them when they first met!

jungwoo learned a lot about her and has developed so many ways to deal with her anxiety :(

gave the staff a guide on how to keep her calm when he went on hiatus because he couldn’t be there with her

buys her colouring books because he knows that they calm her down well!

liwoo went viral and become a popular ship when lian accidentally changed the nct 127 instagram profile picture to a jungwoo icon

she got scolded but it was iconic orange haired jungwoo with a chain-

an untouchable duo when they do double aegyo

nctzens think jungwoo is her favourite member

maybe because lian said he was

“ “who’s your favourite member?” hmm i’ll have to say woo-oppa!”

*cue jungwoo laughing at yuta’s face because he was that shocked*

they share secrets with each other so now they probably know the other like the palm of their hand

even though he’s off his hiatus, he still has to guide the staff members through lian’s little moments because sm staff suck at their job sometimes

they’re the two members who go grocery shopping together

more like jungwoo dragging lian to the grocery store with him but okay

jungwoo loves kissing her cheeks (〃▽〃)

their vocals mixed together are confirmed to be noises from heaven

lian misses his blonde bowl cut :/

MARK + LIAN: LIMARK

leader of lian’s natural length hair committee

like when i tell you mark hates her extensions-

mark was the first friend lian was able to make in nct!

they bonded over canada and it was very rare to see them speaking in korean

mark goes into straight panic when he’s with her sometimes

has to remind himself they’re like siblings

lian ans mark covered “your eyes” by hoody and jay park during a vlive!

it was adorable :((

lian had him saved in her phone as “android user” but now she doesn’t know what to change it to

they had a fight in 2019

mark let’s her call him the weirdest freaking nicknames ヽ ( ꒪д꒪ )ﾉ

mars bar, markie, mork, marko

AND IN RETURN HE CALLS HER MARIJUANA-

he says it’s because czennies consider her to be addicting and since marijuana is addicting as well he thought it’d be a good fit

someone on twitter absolutely ENDED HIM though and wouldn’t stop making fun of him (；⌣̀_⌣́)

they can read each other’s mind just by looking at each other

“dude i hate this shit why does she keep asking us who we wanna collab with?” *cue lian laughing hysterically*

“what’s so funny (゜-゜)” — interviewer

HAECHAN + LIAN: LIHYUCK

haechan makes fun of her kissing scenes in dramas

calls her short all the time

“lian give me a high five- oh haha nevermind it’s too bad you’re so short”

they’ve actually been so close to fighting each other and i’m not even joking

they’re the two members who fight the most out of all of them

but despite this, they love each other very much

hyuck says he’s the only one who’s allowed to make her mad

and if anyone else makes her mad he’d kill them

limark 2019 fight flashbacks where haechan kept threatening mark

there are actually moments when they’re clingy with each other-

haechan loves her hugs :((

like ??????? one minute they’re at each other’s throats and the next, they’re all lovey dovey hugging each other make it make sense ?????

lian could be speaking english and he’d say, “korean, please. i can’t understand canadian”

“shut up <3”

hello haechan cried and wouldn’t let go of her during her and mark’s graduation ceremony in 2018

she makes fun of him for it but never takes it too far

he goes to her for dance advice

during their nct 2018 weekly idol appearance when they were doing the random kpop dance thing, they beat everyone أ‿أ

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css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Almost two months after moving out of Beck’s place, Peter was able to rent an apartment in the same building as Ned and MJ. It was tiny, of course, but pretty inexpensive, compared to other options he found around that area. Besides, with the money he made with Just4Fans over those few weeks, he would be able to afford it comfortably for at least a few months – largely thanks to YKWIM. He still planned on saving up as much as possible, so he put a lot of effort into making his account grow and it was working – by the end of April, he was up to five hundred subscribers.

He didn’t check to see what Beck was doing, he was too afraid to look and see him with his new boyfriend, but he got lots of comments from his old fans, who still followed Beck, telling him that the new boy had nothing on him. Again, he didn’t dare to check, but the ego boost was nice, even if he didn’t really believe them. Also, he was down to crying once every two days instead of every other day, so he was counting that as a win as well.

His apartment was still pretty empty, specially because he spent most of his time downstairs at his friends’ place, but he decorated the bathroom and his room to the best of his ability, since they would be the background of pretty much all his videos and pictures. He also bought some new lingerie sets, a few costumes and sex toys he wasn’t even sure how to use, but he was slowly figuring them out.

Aside from decorating his room and the bathroom, he also bought an armchair and placed it by the window with a couple of pillows. It was a nice spot to spend the afternoon reading or working on his computer. The light in that apartment was great, sunlight streamed right into his living room and warmed it up nicely. As they approached the end of April, the weather was getting better everyday.

Some days, he felt happy. He felt okay with the fact that he was still doing porn and that it wasn’t a terrible crime. Sure, it wasn’t what he had planned to do with his life, but he was young, he would eventually figure things out. For the time being, he needed that gig and he couldn’t beat himself up for it. Also, it wasn’t so bad now that he was only doing solo stuff.

Some other days, though, were just – hard. He remembered all the videos that were still online and he felt awful for the sole reason that they existed. Not so much for the ones he filmed with Beck, he was somewhat okay with those, the guy was his boyfriend after all, they had sex anyway, the only difference was the camera in the room. But the other ones…

When he started filming with other men, it quickly turned into an unpleasant experience for him. He hated every second of it and always ended up feeling guilty, used and disposable at the end of the day. Beck didn’t make it any better with the way he looked at him afterwards as he told him to get in the shower.

He wasn’t entirely sure of the reasons why those videos bothered him so much, sometimes it felt like it wasn’t even him in them. It was like he was watching a different person, he looked at himself and felt completely dissociated from that boy – at the same time, he looked at him and he knew – he knew – exactly what he was feeling when those were shot.

But that was a lot to unpack and he just wasn’t ready for that particular crisis.

So in short, sometimes he was still a little unsure about how long he would be able to keep his Just4Fans account, because even though most days he didn’t feel too weird about it, sometimes it reminded him of things he preferred to forget. But that was fine, he was usually able to work around that. Also, most of his subscribers were great and didn’t make him feel like a cheap whore, so he had that going for him as well.

YKWIM was one of the good ones. They chatted almost daily, and Peter always sent him exclusive pictures and videos just because. He never posted those pictures on his feed once he sent them to him, it was their little secret. In return, he got his own collection of short videos of YKWIM finishing himself off. He didn’t know much about the person behind the videos, he’d taken to calling him daddy because most of his subscribers seemed to like it and YKWIM never complained, so it stuck.

Peter did know he lived in New York – which made him shiver – and that he was a businessman of some kind, but he also always talked about a workshop, so Peter wasn’t sure and he avoided asking personal questions. He worked most of the day and into the night, they usually talked when it was late, always around two in the morning.

He traveled a lot, too, and sometimes sent Peter small clips of his hotel rooms or the view from his balcony. In return, Peter sent him pictures of his messy bedroom and the horrible view from his window as a joke. It was nice talking to him, he always made Peter laugh – and then it often ended with a very satisfying orgasm that put him right to sleep, which was awesome.

Peter estimated YKWIM was older than Beck, but not by too much. He clearly had a fit body, which at first led him to believe he was in his thirties, at most; but he noticed YKWIM sometimes talked about the 80’s like he lived them, so he had to be at least in his forties, but Peter couldn’t be sure. He really wished he would show his face, though, it would be nice to have one to fantasize about. But then again, maybe it would ruin the whole thing.

One afternoon, after Peter spent hours taking pictures, shooting videos and editing them so he could post them over the following week, he got a message from YKWIM. He hurried to check it and was shocked to see that he had sent him yet another tip – forty thousand dollars this time.

“For you to buy pretty things so you can show them off to me.” Said the message that came with the money.

Peter almost dropped his phone when he saw it. It had been only five weeks since his last insane tip, so that made fifty thousand dollars in just a little over a month. For, like, thirty nudes. Who even was that guy?

“Wow, daddy, that’s way too much!” He added a flushed face emoji, for lack of something better to say. He was honestly feeling a little overwhelmed, even if the guy had millions to spend, there was no way just giving someone that amount of money was normal.

“That’s not nearly enough for what you’ve given me, baby.” Peter’s cheeks burned.

“I’m very flattered, but please, I really don’t think I deserve all this.” He was pretty sure he sounded pathetic, but that was how he felt, so. Yeah.

“Oh, but you do. Trust me, you really, really do. You’re worth every penny.” Peter bit his lower lip, a little unsure and still a little shocked.

“At least tell me what you’d like to see from me, please. Do you have any kinks that you’d like me to perform? Don’t be shy.” He asked, even though it always made him nervous to offer that kind of thing. Sometimes people were just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make the weirdest requests.

But, to be fair, he had been talking to YKWIM for over a month, so he somewhat trusted him not to ask for anything too absurd. And then again, the guy had just paid him forty thousand dollars.

“Well, if you insist...” Here it comes, Peter thought, bracing himself. “Red and gold are my favorite colors. I’d love to see you wearing them.” Oh. Not what he was expecting at all.

“Done! Anything else? Come on, there’s gotta be something else.” Again, risky move. But again, forty thousand dollars.

“I’d love to hear you. You’re always so quiet in your videos. If you feel comfortable, I’d love to hear you call my name.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at that request. It sounded… almost sweet? It obviously wasn’t meant like that, it was completely sexual, but out of all the wild things he could have asked for, he wanted to hear Peter call his name.

“What’s your name, daddy?”

“Tony.” Tony. Peter tested the word out on his tongue, saying it out loud once, twice. Tony. It suited the image he had created in his head. Tony.

“I can definitely do that, Tony. Anything else?”

“Buy yourself something pretty and send me a picture wearing it. Nothing sexual. Something you’d wear to a date with me.” Peter’s breath hitched. He supposed it was probably just a weird, rich people kink or something, but his mind went wild anyway. Very, very wild.

“I don’t know what I’d wear to a date with you, daddy. Any advice?”

“I like expensive and beautiful things such as yourself, baby.”

Normally, Peter wouldn’t appreciate being called expensive, like he was a thing to be bought, but he felt weirdly flattered by the answer. He promised YKW – Tony – he would send everything he requested over the next few days, and he was actually excited about the whole thing. And of course he knew that feeling was trouble, there were warning signs flashing like crazy before his eyes, but he ignored them and convinced himself that he was just having fun and he was allowed to have fun if he was going to keep doing porn. He didn’t have to feel miserable and guilty all the fucking time. He could – and should! – take some pleasure from it. He deserved it.

So the following day he asked MJ to go shopping with him, but he still didn’t tell her the whole story, he just said it was for his Just4Fans and she readily agreed to go. They went to Victoria’s Secret and Peter told her what he had in mind.

“So, how’s the job going? You’re doing okay? Not too overwhelmed?” She asked coolly as they searched through the panties section.

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s different when I’m in control, you know? Like, I know my limits and I don’t need to count on other people to respect them. Well, most of the time. So it’s cool.”

Some subscribers were a little pushy sometimes, asking for things Peter wasn’t willing to do and then getting really aggressive after being told no. But it didn’t affect him as much as it did when Beck ignored his boundaries, because those pushy subscribers could be easily blocked, whereas with Beck, well. It was a different story.

“Don’t ever feel like you need to push your limits, okay?” Michelle stopped what she was doing to grab him by the shoulders and force him to look at her. “If you ever feel like stopping, for whatever reason, just do it. No matter what, you’ll always have me and Ned, understand? We’re family, we’re here for you, we’d never leave you alone. If you want to stop, we’ll figure something out together, you hear me?” The way she looked into his eyes made him understand that she really meant every single word of it.

Family. He had a family with them.

Peter felt silly tearing up in the middle of Victoria’s Secret, so he pulled her into his arms and hid his face in her neck.

“Thank you. I needed to hear that,” he muttered, as she squeezed him a little tighter, before pushing him away.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all teary-eyed on me, come on, you’ll ruin my reputation.” She looked around, sniffing, then stuck her hands in her pockets. Peter laughed halfheartedly, drying the corner of his eyes. “C’mon, there are panties to be bought.”

They spent a couple of hours searching the store, but in the end he found the perfect set. He bought some other pieces, too, for his feed, people had been asking for lingerie a lot lately, after a slightly weird phase of cat ears and tails. Once they left Victoria’s Secret, Peter was nervous because he had to tell MJ at least part of the truth to get her help with the second part of Tony’s request.

“So, listen,” he started and she turned to him, happily sipping her large coffee as they walked down the street. “I have this subscriber. He’s, like, a rich, old dude who always sends me tips and stuff. Anyway, he gave me some money and asked me to buy something nice and pose for him, but like, not in a sexual way. He wants to see me clothed.” She frowned, staring at him suspiciously. “Um. I was wondering if you could help me with that?”

She was silent for a few seconds, just looking at him with narrowed eyes. He looked away discreetly, trying to avoid her mind-reading skills.

“Should I be worried?” She asked, finally. He shook his head and chuckled nervously, waving a hand dismissively.

“He’s harmless, just some lonely, old dude. So, will you help?” He looked at her expectantly. She was still frowning and definitely knew something was up, but she nodded anyway, to Peter’s relief.

“What do you have in mind?” MJ asked and resumed her stroll down the street, Peter had to jog a little to keep up.

“Something expensive and beautiful,” He quoted Tony, like an idiot, because he honestly had no idea what that meant.

“That’s oddly specific and somehow not helpful at all.” She lifted an eyebrow and looked around the busy street. “How expensive are we talking about?”

“I’m not sure. Very?” He answered nervously, and, yet again, she looked looked like she wanted to rip the truth out of him, but she also knew that was not the way to go with him.

“How much did this guy give you?”

“Um. for – five thousand dollars.” He stuttered. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the actual amount, because it sounded absolutely insane and she would worry unnecessarily.

“Holy shit!? Fuck, why aren’t I doing porn?!” She screeched and Peter hurried to put his hands over her mouth, because at least three people turned around to look at them.

“Don’t even joke about that, you hear me? You have a bright future ahead of you, don’t fuck it up,” he told her seriously and she looked like she wanted to argue just for the sake of being annoying, but something in the way he looked at her must have made her realize he meant it.

“Chill, I’m joking.” She patted his shoulder and looked away. “So. Five thousand dollars? We can work with that.”

He was a little scared of the weird gleam in her eyes, but followed her anyway.

They spent the rest of the afternoon shopping, it was a lot of fun and he even got her a pair of shoes she kept staring longingly at. She was worried they would go over the budget because she wanted him to save some of the money, but he assured her he could afford it. They managed to put together a great outfit that he was very confident about and then called Ned to meet them for dinner in the evening.

Later, they took the subway home and, for a while, he felt like a normal 20-year-old guy – happy, weightless and just a little heartbroken, like everyone was bound to be at some point in life. He was going to be okay, he realized. That thought hit him like a punch in the face and it felt fucking awesome.

He rested his head on Ned’s shoulder with a sigh of relief, feeling the warmth of MJ’s hand on his thigh.

It was around midnight when he got home, which for him was still a little early, he had developed the terrible habit of going to bed well after two in the morning – he blamed Tony, but to be fair, many of his subscribers were mostly active around that time as well. He debated whether or not he should start working on Tony’s requests, he was a little tired from a long day of walking around carrying bags, but also surprisingly eager to show the older man what he got for him.

He took the Victoria’s Secret bag and displayed the new outfit on the bed. It was a simple, but beautiful lingerie set. What Peter loved most about it was the fabric – it was made of deep red satin, smooth and glossy, and it felt simply amazing on the skin.

He decided to try it on, just to make sure it fit properly.

The top was a delicate bralette, two little triangles only big enough to hide his nipples and a little bit of his pecs. It was the perfect size for him, it sat flush with his skin, no unflattering cup gaps. The panties were tiny, Peter wasn’t too sure about those back in the store, he was worried not everything would fit in it. It did, but just barely, but it actually worked in his favor, in his humble opinion. Lastly, he put on the garter belt, which was just a thin piece of fabric that went around his waist, with two straps that hung down to clasp onto two elastic bands that went around his thighs.

Since Tony said red and gold, he also put on a thick, golden choker, just to see how it would look.

Once he was dressed, he went to check in the mirror. He bit his lower lip, running his hand over the fabric that covered his chest. It felt really smooth, and the way it brushed against his nipples sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Tony’s hands on his body. They looked strong enough to hurt, but he imagined they would be gentle with him, as they traced a path from his collarbone to his neck, to wrap themselves around his throat – but not tight enough to choke him, just a promise.

He sighed, as if to check that he could still breath under the pressure, and slowly slid his hands down from his neck, brushing his hard nipples on their way down to the front of the panties – God, it was so smooth...

For some reason, he imagined Tony would be a gentle lover. Maybe it was the way he talked to him, always so charming, all sweetheart and baby, all praise and compliments. Maybe it was the way he never demanded anything, only asked nicely, all please and thank you.

Tony wouldn’t ruin him, like he promised so many times in those last few weeks, he would fuck him long and slow, raspy voice whispering sweet praise in his ear, rough hands holding him down, hips snapping with each unrelenting thrust.

He bit his lips, knees buckling as he felt the front of the panties getting wet, while his leaking cock struggled to get free.

Well, then.

He grabbed his camera from the closet and positioned it on a tripod in front of the bed, just a few feet away, and programmed it to take pictures every five seconds. He sat on the bed, facing the camera, feet still on the floor, and just closed his eyes for a minute, letting a sigh escape his lips as the fantasy from before filled his mind again.

He spread his legs and his fingers reached down to the front of his panties again. His cock felt impossibly hard, straining against the delicate fabric, dark pink tip peeking out of over the top of the tiny underwear. He touched himself slowly, hips rocking lightly to match the pace of his own hand, as he listened to the clicks of the pictures being taken.

He had to force himself to stop, before he lost control, and moved to kneel on the bed, with his side facing the camera, and lowered his chest until it was touching the mattress, letting his back curve in a sinful arch, head turned to the side, staring right at the lens. At Tony. Imagining what he would do if he were there.

He sat back on his heels and turned his back to the camera, spreading his knees, each of his hands grabbing one ass cheek, pulling them apart, only a thin, barely there strip of fabric hiding his nakedness. He looked over his shoulder and waited for the camera to take at least a couple of pictures.

Next, he laid on his back, side facing the camera again, left hand rubbing one nipple over the silky fabric, as the right one reached down the front of the panties, to finally give himself some sort of relief. He let out an almost pained moan as he wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping it slowly, once, twice, but all that teasing was driving him a little insane.

He knew he should probably take a few more pictures, but he also knew wouldn’t last much longer.

He got off the bed and went to the dresser where he kept all of his “work stuff”. He grabbed a tube of lube and a vibrator that was neither too small, nor too big, it was a size Peter was comfortable with.

He switched the camera to video mode, pressed record and resumed his position on the bed, knees on the bed, holding his lower body up, and chest resting on the mattress. He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, pushed the panties a little to the side and circled his hole gently, slowly, because that was how he imagined Tony would do it. Those big, rough hands would have grabbed him by the hips, put him in that exact position, before teasing him mercilessly.

He moaned quietly and closed his eyes, rubbing slow circles around his rim, pressing a little against his entrance, but not hard enough to breach it. He felt his cock pulsing, begging for attention, but he didn’t dare to touch it, not yet.

“Tony, please...” He whined, pushing his hips back against his own hand, he was so lost in his fantasy he almost forgot he didn’t need to beg. Almost. “I need you...”

Gently, he started pushing one finger inside, knuckle by knuckle, he was so aroused he barely felt the burn, just delicious pressure that made his eyes roll to the back of his head. He started fucking himself on his finger, feeling the muscles around it slowly make way.

“’Been thinking about you, Tony…” he rasped out, hips pushing back against his hand. “Can’t stop thinking ‘bout you...” When he felt loose enough, he pushed another finger inside, the stretch becoming a little more noticeable as he slowly scissored himself open. He got on all fours and turned his back to the camera to give Tony a better view, all spread out for him, and kept fucking himself, picking up the pace once just those two fingers weren’t enough. “Fuck, daddy, need you so bad...”

He eased the fingers out of himself, sighing at the loss, and reached for the vibrator that was sitting on the bed and turned to face the camera again. He knelt on the bed and, with one hand, he propped the vibrator up on the mattress, holding it down from behind him, as with the other hand he guided its tip to his already abused hole.

He flicked the switch and it vibrated to life, nudging against his hole before finally slipping in. Peter’s breath hitched at the intrusion, feeling the delicious burn on his lower back, as he moved his hips up and down slowly, trying to push more of it inside with each painful thrust.

“Fuck me, Tony,” he begged, as his free hand finally reached for his neglected cock, pumping it hard and fast, matching the maddening pace his hips set. He lost all sense of rhythm when he felt the tip of the vibrator finally – finally – reach his prostate and he pushed it even further in, until the pressure against the bundle of nerves became too much and he exploded in one of the best orgasms he had had in a long, long time. “Oh, f-fuck!” His vision went dark for a second as he let himself fall back on the bed, wasted.

He spent almost ten minutes just lying there, trying to catch his breath and regain consciousness. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like that, he was boneless, floaty, completely satisfied. It was honestly the best he felt in months.

When his legs stopped shaking, he got up and headed straight to the shower, still feeling a little dizzy and weak, but he wasn’t complaining.

Once he was finished, he debated whether he should just go to bed or send Tony what he had, but with the way he was feeling, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep so easily. So decided to send at least the pictures right away, even though it was nearing 3AM. Peter knew Tony was probably up, the man did say that he was an insomniac and that he sometimes went days without any real sleep, so it wasn’t a surprise when he answered just a few minutes after Peter sent them.

“Holy fuck, Peter!!” Peter bit his lower lip, burying his face in the pillow to hide his blush, even though he was alone in his room.“What the fuck, baby, it’s three in the morning, are you trying to fucking kill me?!”

“So you like them?” He asked with feigned innocence.

“I fucking love them, you little tease, these are hands down my favorites yet. I swear I’m gonna have them framed and hung in my workshop and I’ll spend the rest of my fucking days just writing odes to you.” Peter giggled into the pillow, turning on his side to get more comfortable on the bed.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” He joked lightly, blushing again, which was stupid, but he couldn’t help it.

“Fuck no! You’re something else, kitten, and you don’t even know it.” Peter suppressed a smile, biting his lower lip.

“Are you touching yourself right now, daddy?”

“To be honest, I’m so fucking hard I think I’m gonna come instantly if I even brush my fingers on my cock. I’m literally just staring at the pictures right now and worrying I’m gonna come untouched just from that.” Peter laid on his stomach and bit the pillow, gently rocking his hips against the bed.

“That’s so hot. Can I see it?”

Seconds later, there was a video in the chat. He played it immediately and, sure enough, Tony wasn’t kidding. His cock was rock hard, throbbing, the head was an angry purple, already glistening with pre-cum. Tony was just holding it at the base, not daring to touch it, and the whole thing almost made Peter hard again, but he was really exhausted.

“Fuck, daddy, I really wish I could help you with that.”

“Oh, you don’t even know what I wish.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a few minutes and Peter figured he had gone to sleep, but then his phone beeped, alerting him to another message from him. It was, of course, a picture of Tony’s spent cock, resting against his belly, which was covered in come, so much of it Peter’s mouth watered.

“Was it good, daddy?”

“The best, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m gonna sleep like a baby today.” Peter chuckled. Tony always said that was high praise coming from someone who hardly ever slept and the younger man took his word for it.

“Goodnight, Tony. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Looking forward to it, Pete.”

He knew he was fucked the second he tried to suppress a small smile, but couldn’t.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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justatiredpotato · 4 years

Text

Set Me Free | Chapter 1

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 6,000~ Total: 40,000~ (I’m sorry xD)

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: violence, discrimination (against hybrids), mentions of injuries and blood, anxiety, panic attacks

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: I love writing reader inserts but I just can’t write Y/N. It feels weird to me. So in this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji. I hope this isn’t too confusing for anyone! This is my first time posting my work so I appreciate any support it gets!

You raised the blinds just high enough to let a sliver of pre-dawn light in, but low enough that you wouldn’t be blinded when the sun crested the buildings across the way. You peered through the sheer fabric onto the square outside. The area had seen a lot of development in the last few years. Trendy little shops now lined the street. The coffee shop you owned and operated was tucked between a couple of over-priced restaurants with laughably tiny servings.

While you weren’t thrilled with the increase in your overhead costs, you couldn’t deny the recent boost in business. There was a steady flow of customers through the whole week, not just in the early morning or on weekends. It had even become necessary to hire a couple of part-timers to keep the place open longer. Not that you minded. You were actually glad for the opportunity to give your friend, Jungkook, a job.

The rabbit hybrid was nervous by nature despite his imposing appearance; he stood at least a foot taller than you. Your brother, Namjoon was fiercely protective of him. Jungkook came into your lives in your final year of college. The police brought a battered and terrified Jungkook to Remedy shelter, which was run by your friend Jin. They hadn’t seen what happened to him, and he wouldn’t say. As far as you knew, Namjoon and Jin were the only people he ever told.

Your eyes focused on the patio before you, as the very bunny you were thinking of appeared at the door. One of the boys came in on the weekends to work alongside you and help with the rush. The square was usually packed with couples on dates, window-shopping and listening to musicians that busked along the sidewalks.

“Morning, noona!” Jungkook chirped with his wide bunny grin.

“G’morning Koo,” you said, attempting to match his energy level despite the early hour. He laughed sweetly at the nickname. You were the only one he let call him that since he turned seventeen.

“Did you have your coffee yet?” He asked. You shook your head no. “Waiting for your favorite hybrid to make it for you?”

“Don’t let Jimin hear you say that. You know he’ll take any opportunity to pout,” you said.

Jungkook chuckled at that. Jimin was the shop's other part-timer. Many hybrids were affectionate, but the ragdoll hybrid took it to another level. He spent every possible second with his arms wrapped around his nearest friend. You were counted among his friends from pretty much your first meeting. When the chance to work at your shop had opened up, he thought it would be a great chance to have some independence.

Jimin had been rooming with Jin for years. Despite his desire for independence he simply couldn’t stand living alone. So he shared an apartment with Jin and Taehyung, a sweet tiger hybrid. Taehyung had been hard to adopt out because despite his good nature, he was an exotic breed, and a predator no less. Few wanted to risk taking responsibility for him, and those that did had less-than-good intentions for him.

Life was scary as a hybrid. Between the massive industry of underground fighting rings, sex trafficking, and abuse in even seemingly decent homes, any adoption was a gamble. Jin tried his best to vet each family, but he couldn’t catch every red flag. You and Namjoon knew better than most how that haunted him.

Several years ago, the two of you stopped by the shelter. Neither of you could reach him on the phone and you were starting to get worried. You finally found him in his office, passed out over his desk with several empty bottles of soju scattered around. Namjoon tried to rouse him, but all he could mumble was ‘dead, dead, dead’ between hiccuping sobs. The next morning you learned that a hybrid he’d helped earlier that year was found dead in a seedy part of town. The couple that adopted her were being investigated on suspicion of hybrid trafficking.

He wasn’t the same after that. He got back to his usual smiling self, but he was slower to trust, and slower to laugh. Every time a hybrid left the shelter for their new home there was a flicker of sadness and fear in his eyes.

“Noona? What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, breaking your train of thought. You turned to look at him, blinking to stop your eyes watering at the memory.

“It’s nothing Kookie, just thinking about this sad movie I watched last night.” You and Namjoon both agreed that it was best to keep the more tragic events from the shelter quiet. Jungkook had been through enough in the past, and you didn’t want to hurt him further by bringing up old memories. Jungkook frowned at the response.

“It must’ve been really sad,” he said, sniffing lightly. His frown deepened and he searched her eyes. He seemed to debate pressing it further. You knew that his hybrid senses were telling him you were lying. But he seemed to decide it was best to let it go, instead holding out a hot cup of your favorite coffee, a soft smile returning and making his eyes scrunch.

You took it, grateful for the coffee and his letting you evade the question. You set about your morning tasks, laying out chairs, brewing coffee for the self-serve station, and checking that there was creamer chilled and ready. Sunlight sparkled in the air, reflecting off the morning frost.

It was supposed to snow that night. You shuddered. You hated winter for forcing you to pay for heating, if nothing else. Whenever your friends got together at your house—a tiny one-bedroom apartment above the cafe—Jimin whined about the cold temperature. But you refused to pay for anything beyond what would keep your pipes from freezing. It was expensive enough to own a building in your area already. Instead you wore layers and piled blankets on your bed. Jimin wasn’t really upset anyway, he loved any excuse to cuddle. Movie night usually ended with him and Taehyung asleep on either side of you.

“You actually going to turn on the radiator tonight?” Jungkook teased.

“I have my radiator on! It’s just… turned down,” you said.

He chuckled, knowing you were too stubborn to waste money on ‘luxuries.’ He turned away at the jingle of the door bell. The first customer of the day came as no surprise. A familiar, slouching form appeared, dropped a couple of equipment cases off at the side of the door, and shuffled up to the counter. The young man had black hair that hung down and nearly covered his eyes, which flicked up to meet hers. His lips twitched in a hint of a smile.

“Good morning, Yoongi” You said with more than your usual morning cheer. Jungkook scoffed and you threw him a dirty look. The young man in front of the counter didn’t seem to pay attention, his eyes determinedly focused on his beat-up boots.

“Morning,” he mumbled, glancing up to briefly meet your eyes.

“The usual?” you asked, trying to hold his gaze.

“Yeah,” he said. This time offering you a genuine smile before he looked away again. He busied himself looking through a well-worn notebook while you relayed his usual order to Jungkook: cheese toast and a small hot americano. You returned to the counter and accepted his punch card. He practically filled one every other week, since he was in nearly every day.

“Performing in the square again today?” you asked. He was one of the buskers that was a regular in the area. He nodded. “You should put on a coat. It’s supposed to snow later. You’re going to freeze if you’re out there all day like that.”

You looked over his clothes. The hoodie he wore was ragged at the sleeves. He had the hood up, cinched a bit against the biting wind. His signature beanie was just peeking out from under it. He scuffed his feet, uncomfortable under your appraisal.

“I’ll be fine,” he answered shortly. He looked up at you, eyes wide as he realized how curt he sounded. “I stay warm when I’m performing.”

You weren’t sure how standing behind a keyboard and laptop could keep you warm, but you didn’t press the issue. You handed back the punch card and gave him his total. He rummaged in his pockets before frowning and looking up at the menu.

“That’s wrong,” he said.

“Hm?” you asked, though you already knew what he meant. He pointed to the menu over your shoulder.

“Your prices went up, but this is what it always costs.” He pulled a jumble of crumpled bills and coins from the pocket of his hoodie, counting through them. A couple of coins fell and clattered across the counter.

“I gave you the regular customer discount,” you said. Jungkook chuckled as he joined you at the register with the completed order.

“That’s not a thing,” Yoongi said as he finished counting out his change and handed you the total with the new prices.

“It’s my shop. I’m making it a thing,” you argued, pushing the money back toward him.

“Please, Yeoji-ssi. I don’t need a hand out.”

“I didn’t mean that you need it, I just wanted to,” you finally stammered after an awkward pause. Now you were embarrassed, and you felt bad for unintentionally insulting him. Yoongi cursed quietly under his breath. Beside you Jungkook’s ears twitched, and he sniffed curiously; no doubt sensing something you couldn’t.

“I know, I’m sorry. That’s very generous of you,” he said as he gently pushed the money back toward you. Tucking his toast into the backpack and taking his coffee he hurried back toward the door. He fumbled for a minute, trying to carry his equipment and the hot beverage. As he finally got his things together and went to push the door open, you called after him.

“Hey, drop by if you get a chance to take a break and warm up.”

“I’ll try,” he said, turning around and flashing another soft smile as he pushed through the door.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You thought about Yoongi a lot through the rest of the day. Jungkook noticed and teased you all day. You couldn’t scold him for it though, you’d teased him plenty about his first crush.

As long as Yoongi had been coming to the cafe you’d been curious about him. He was quiet, handsome, and talented. You’d heard him perform in the square before. He played the keyboard but also produced tracks that he played from his laptop, blending the simplicity of the piano with a full-bodied studio sound.

You often wondered why he wasn’t working at a studio, producing for idols. He could have been an idol himself with the good looks he hid behind a beanie, hoodie, and bangs. The more you learned about the boy, the more you wanted to know. On your break, you googled his name and found a few YouTube videos of performances at clubs and underground rap battles. Apparently he wasn’t just a musician, he was a talented lyricist and rapper as well.

“Doing some research on your boyfriend, I see?” Jungkook said, resting his chin on your shoulder. You jumped, turning to swat at him as he quickly danced away.

“Don’t read over people’s shoulders! That’s rude,” you scolded. You could feel your face turning pink, and it irritated you to know that he could sense your embarrassment. “He’s not my boyfriend. And I was just curious about his music.”

“Mhm, right,” Jungkook said dismissively. “You’re seriously browsing Google? Come on, doesn’t this guy have an Instagram?”

“Not one that I can find.” Your tone made it clear that you had made a thorough search and failed.

“Wow, really? No social media presence at all? Maybe he has Twitter.” You shook your head. “Facebook? LinkedIn? MySpace? AOL?”

“AOL did IM and email, you dork,” you interrupted, cracking a smile. “And no, I can’t find him on any platform besides YouTube. He doesn’t seem to have his own channel…”

“Weird…” Jungkook said. “Are we sure this guy really exists?” You snorted. “I’m serious! For someone to be completely off the grid on the internet is like, unheard of. Maybe he’s hiding from the law! Or in witness protection. Noona, what if your boyfriend is a drug dealer!”

You swung at him again, this time successfully landing a smack on his shoulder. He ran back out front when the door chimed.

“He’s not a drug dealer, stupid!” You called after him. “And he’s not my boyfriend!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Namjoon picked up Jungkook after closing that evening. They were having a boys night at Jin’s house.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join, noona?” Jungkook asked, pouting a little bit to try and convince you.

“We really don’t mind, noona. Jimin and Tae would love it if you came,” Namjoon added.

“I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll be fine Joon. And Koo, you know Overwatch isn’t my style. You have fun with the boys. Make sure to let them win a few times,” you said, getting on your toes to ruffle Jungkook’s hair affectionately.

“I will,” Jungkook said, leaning into your hand for one last ear scratch.

You waved off the boys and set to cleaning up for the night. After mopping and turning out the lights in the front you went in the back to wash the dishes. Through the door leading out into the alley, you heard shouting. Listening for a minute, you shrugged it off. Probably just college kids from a local frat house. You often heard them as they stumbled home from the local bar. It was Friday night after all.

That explanation left your head quickly when you heard a scream. The sound nearly made you drop the mug you were washing. That wasn’t a scream of young men goofing around, it was a cry of pain and fear. Before you could think better of it you shook the water off your hands, grabbed your phone, and raced for the door.

You burst out into the alleyway struggling to stay upright on the thin layer of freshly fallen snow.

What you saw made your stomach turn. A group of four young men were crowded around the dumpster. Something, or more likely someone, was crumpled in the corner between it and the wall. You couldn’t see much, just rumpled fabric and a couple of bags laying around. The bags were opened, the paper and garments they had contained tossed around the alley.

The men took turns throwing brutal kicks at the person in the corner, who was now curled so that the only thing you could see besides the snow-soaked hoodie was his hands clutching something to his chest.

“You thought you could fool everyone? Thought you could scam a buck out of us?” One of the men sneered.

“Too bad. We know what you are. Just because no one wants you doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want,” another said

“You’re just a toy that someone threw away. What were you thinking trying to pull something over on real people?” another said, punctuating his point with a kick to the ribs that sent the victim sprawling onto the snow.

“Hey!” you shouted before you could think better of it. You hurriedly lifted your phone to dial the police. It was dead. Panic shot through you as the four guys turned to you. Thinking quickly you put the phone to your ear and started talking.

“Hello? I need the police. I’m in the alley behind ***********. There are some young men here and I think they’ve hurt someone.” One of the men took a step toward you, further illuminating his face in the dim security light. You took a step back. “Hey, I have all of this on CCTV! Your faces are on it!” you warned before returning to the imaginary phone call. “Yes, the cameras run 24/7. Everything should be on there…”

The guy closest to you stepped back into the shadows, cursing.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to walk away and nodding for his friends to follow him. One of them turned to spit on the figure in the corner before walking away.

“You’re lucky, freak.”

You kept talking until the group disappeared around the corner. As soon as they were gone you rushed to the person in the alley. The person flinched away as you approached, tucking in on himself. You stopped, listening as he said something. It was muffled by his arms, which were held up in an attempt to protect his head.

“What did you say?” you asked, moving a little closer.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…” he repeated over and over again. The man’s voice trembled to the point it was hard to understand him, but his voice was undeniably familiar. As you came within arms reach you got a clearer view, and your blood ran cold. There bundled in a thin, soaked hoodie, was Yoongi. The snow that had melted over him from his body heat was quickly refreezing. He shivered so badly you could hear his teeth chattering.

“Yoongi?” you asked in a choked whisper.

He looked up at you then. One of his eyes was blackened, almost entirely swollen shut, with a cut through his eyebrow dripping blood onto his eyelashes. His nose was bleeding, possibly broken. The split in his lip lined up with a quickly darkening bruise on his jaw.

“Oh my god, Yoongi! What happened?” you asked, reaching out for him.

“Please,” he said, more of a whimper than a word. You froze. He was scared you were going to hurt him.

“Yoongi?” you said, more softly this time. “It’s okay. They’re gone. I’m not going to hurt you. Would you please let me help you?” The panic in his eyes seemed to clear a little, and he seemed to really see you when he met your eyes again.

“Yeoji-ssi? I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” he mumbled, wincing as he tried to stand.

“Woah, hold on.” You reached out to steady him. He flinched at the sudden movement, but didn’t pull away this time. “You aren’t going anywhere. Come on, let's get you inside before you freeze.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s really not worth the tro-“ he started.

“Yoongi,” you said in your older-sister voice. He seemed to realize that that was the end of the discussion, because he sagged against you as you slung his arm over your shoulders. His free hand was still clutching something to his chest. You glanced at it and your eyes widened. A tail. You looked up at him with a clearly shocked expression. He let out a kind of tired, resigned sigh.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Like I said, I can just go. You can leave me. You probably don’t want me here.”

“Why would you say that?” you said, immediately regretting your tone. He shrank into himself, curling his shoulders in to make himself smaller, even as he winced at the pain of moving.

“Sorry,” he repeated meekly, pulling his arm off as if he expected you to shove him away. You grabbed his hand and settled it back over your shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, Yoongi. But why would you think I would leave you here?” you said. As you limped toward the door into the café he couldn’t meet your eyes. He’d embarrassed you, again. Of course you’d want to get rid of him. He hung his head and obediently followed you inside. His heart broke as he saw his bags, open and empty, strewn around the alley. His notes littered the floor, already soaked and probably illegible. He glanced around, seeing the edge of his keyboard where it had been shoved under the dumpster in the scuffle. Turning, he realized his backpack—containing his laptop, important papers and notes, and what little money he had saved—was still lying in the corner where you’d found him.

He turned to you to say something, but found you were already at the door. As soon as the door closed behind him, what little strength he had left him. You eased him to the ground as best you could. He grunted, muffling a whimper of pain. He already felt pathetic enough.

“Okay, I’m going to call the police and an ambulance,” you said, tossing your dead cell phone on the counter and hurrying to the landline. Thank god you hadn’t hadn’t got around to cancelling it yet. Yoongi’s eyes widened and he lurched forward, trying to stand. He only made it one step before he fell, yelping in pain and landing on his hands and knees on the tile. You rushed back to his side.

“Don’t,” he begged through gritted teeth. You stopped short, thinking he didn’t want you to touch him. “No cops. No ambulance,” he got out before lowering himself to lay on his side. You quickly moved to lay his head on your lap instead of the cold floor.

“Yoongi you’re hurt. And those boys should be arrested! Besides, I’m sure someone is worried about you. Don’t you have a…” you trailed off, looking for the right word.

“Owner?” Yoongi said, disgust clear in his voice.

“I was going to say guardian. That’s what most of my friends call their arrangement.”

“You have hybrid friends? Or your friends own hybrids?” Yoongi asked.

“I guess both, not that my hybrid friends are anyone’s property-“ you cut yourself off. “Yoongi this isn’t important right now. You need help.”

“No. The hospital will call the police, and the police will put me in a shelter.”

“You’re alone?” you asked cautiously.

“Yeah. I’m better his way. If I can just sleep here, I’ll be gone in the morning. Please,” he said. His voice kept getting quieter, losing its bite the more he spoke.

“No,” you said firmly.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t want me here. I’ll be gone before you wake up. I won’t touch anything. You can just forget all of this.”

“No, Yoongi. I meant I’m not letting you leave like this. I’m getting you help and you’re going to let me.”

You took off your sweater and put it under his head so you could stand and get the phone. Yoongi moved to protest, but you threw him a look and he surrendered. You dialed and watched as Yoongi’s eyes fell closed despite his best attempts to fight it.

“Noona? What’s up?” came the answer on the phone.

“Hoseok, I need your help,” you said, not wasting any time. You could hear the sound of video games and trash talk pause in the background as the other boys asked Hoseok what you called for.

“Shut up a sec and let me ask,” he said to the younger boys who were no doubt hovering around the phone trying to eavesdrop. “Sorry, noona. What do you need? It’s late. Is everything okay?”

“I need a doctor.”

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, his voice more urgent now. You could hear a whine on the other end already, probably Jungkook, already worried.

“I’m fine, Hobi, but could you take this conversation somewhere more private?” you asked, not wanting to expose the younger boys to any unnecessary trauma. There was shuffling and complaints on the other end of the line, then the sound of a door closing.

“Talk. What’s going on?” Hoseok demanded. The door opened and closed again and you heard Namjoon’s voice.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” he asked. “Are you okay?” He repeated more clearly, evidently sharing the phone with Hoseok.

“Yes, I’m fine! But I have an injured hybrid here. He doesn’t have a guardian and he’s too scared to let me call an ambulance.”

“What happened to him?” Hoseok asked. He was a doctor specializing in hybrid medicine at the nearby hospital. He often helped out at Jin’s shelter. You felt some relief as you sensed he was in what Taehyung liked to call ‘doctor mode.’

“Some kids beat him up. It’s bad. He’s passed out on my kitchen floor right now. Drenched from the snow too. I can’t carry him into my apartment myself and it’s way too cold in this kitchen.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll have to grab some supplies from the shelter.”

You heard the door opening again, and a bunch of voices throwing questions at Hoseok and Joon.

“Jin-hyung, shelter keys?” Hoseok requested over the noise.

“I’m going too,” Namjoon chimed in. There was more arguing and shuffling noises as coats were grabbed and shoes were put on and everyone insisted they were coming. You were distracted by a soft murmur from Yoongi, still on the floor behind you. You stretched the phone cord and returned to his side.

“What is it, Yoongi?” you asked, pulling the beanie off to brush some of his fringe off his face. His soft black ears were flattened against his head, and you gently smoothed over them too.

“My bag,” he mumbled, eyebrows creasing even in unconsciousness.

You interrupted the arguing boys on the other end of the phone.

“Bring the boys,” you said.

“Are you sure about that?” Namjoon asked, knowing that you, Jin, and himself all agreed it was best to protect the three maknaes from this kind of situation when it was possible.

“They can’t come in and see him, but I have a job I need them to help me with. Make sure they dress warm,” you said.

“If you’re sure,” Namjoon said, deciding not to question you.

“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Hoseok said. “Do your best to keep him warm until then.”

“Okay. Please hurry.”

As soon as you hung up, you quickly ran into your apartment in the back. You pulled as many extra blankets as you could carry out of your closet and rushed back to Yoongi. You debated for a minute before pulling off the drenched hoodie, only to find that the black t-shirt he wore underneath was no drier. You weren't confident that you could get the garment off without further hurting him, so instead you piled blankets on top of him. You filled a couple of hot water bottles and tucked them around him; then filled a couple more and tucked them into your bed so that it would be warm when the boys carried him in.

You returned to the kitchen, where Yoongi was barely visible for all the blankets he was packed in. Glancing at the clock, you saw that only 10 minutes had passed. It felt like you’d been waiting for hours. The time crawled as you alternated between watching the seconds tick by and watching Yoongi’s chest rise and fall.

You jumped when the knock finally came at the door. They’d come to the back, the front door to your apartment, and you ran to let them in. Hoseok immediately slipped past you and headed to the kitchen. The others moved to follow, but you stopped them.

“I need you guys to help me with something,” you said. “Those thugs trashed his stuff threw it all over the alley. Joon, can you take the boys and go gather what you can and see if any of it can be salvaged? I know he said his bag is back there. It seemed important to him.”

Namjoon nodded and quickly herded the boys around the building and into the alley. You pulled Jin inside.

“I need you to help Hobi and I get him inside.”

“That bad?” he asked, frowning. You just nodded. He followed you back to where Hoseok was already taking stock of his patient.

“You did good, noona. Seems like you staved off the shock. Move him, and then I’ll dress these wounds.”

You carefully pulled the blankets away.

“Be careful, he was really protective of his tail. I think it’s injured somehow,” you warned before Jin and Hoseok picked him up. They exchanged a glance as they moved toward the apartment door.

“What?” you asked. “Is something else wrong?”

“No,” Jin tried to assure you, though his tone wasn’t comforting. “It’s just… Hobi, I know he isn’t a big guy, but is it normal to be this light?”

“No,” Hoseok answered grimly. “Definitely not.”

Now that your attention was drawn to it, you noticed how slight Yoongi was. His ribs were clearly visible through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. You felt a lump in your throat and looked away, hurrying to open the door.

“You can put him in my room. I put some water bottles to warm the bed.” They nodded and quickly settled him on the bed.

“Do you think we could cut away this stuff?” Hoseok asked, gesturing to his clothes. “It’s all trashed anyway.”

“I don’t know if he has much else…” you said, hesitant to ruin his things.

“I just don’t want to risk further injury trying to get them off intact. And we can’t leave him in these, he’s already nearly hypothermic,” he said.

“We can replace them,” Jin suggested. “I brought a change of clothes. It’s in a bag on your coffee table, noona.”

“Right, great,” you said. “I’ll go get them.”

You hurried out of the room to get the bag Jin mentioned. When you came into the living room you found Jimin, hovering by the door.

“Noona, there was a keyboard by the trash and papers everywhere. Are they his? Should we get them too?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot. His nose twitched, and you realized he could probably smell the anxiety and pain in the air. You sighed.

“Yeah, grab everything you can. We can sort through it in the morning, and see what we can save.” He nodded and turned to leave.

“Chim,” you called and he turned. You wrapped him in a comforting hug. “Thank you.”

A purr echoed in the boy’s chest, even as you heard him sniffle. You knew this whole experience was hard for him. He was one of the volunteers at the shelter the day Jungkook was brought in. That experience still haunted him. It’s why he stopped working at the shelter and took a job at the coffee shop. His tail curled around your waist as he hugged you back tightly.

“He’ll be okay, Chim,” you said, stroking his hair. “We’re going to help him.”

A pained groan came from the room behind you, and you pulled away from Jimin.

“Go back out and help the boys. Once you’re done, leave the stuff in the living room and go to the cafe. Tell Jungkook I said everyone needs a hot chocolate,” you petted his hair one last time and guided him out the door. A shout echoed out of your bedroom, and you couldn’t tell if it sounded pained, angry, or scared. Snatching the bag off the coffee table, you dashed back into the room.

“Get off me!” Yoongi shouted, tail clutched to his now bare chest. Jin stood back, hands up in surrender as Hoseok tried to calm the panicked cat.

“Look man, your clothes are soaked. We’re risking hypothermia if we don’t get you into something dry.”

Yoongi looked down, seeing what remained of his ratty t-shirt cut open and in the trash. The right leg of his jeans was sliced along the outer seam up to his mid-thigh.

“What the hell did you do to my clothes?” He shouted again. He winced and swayed from the strain of sitting upright.

“Yoongi,” you started softly. Yoongi turned to you, eyes wide with panic. You approached slowly, not stopping when he spat at you to leave him alone, hurling threats and nonsense at you. As you sat on the edge of the bed he shrank back into the bedding around him and refused to meet your eyes.

“Please,” he said, his voice so quiet you hardly heard him. “Please just leave me alone. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Yoongi,” you said again, “I want to help. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” You reached out to gently take his hands. “I swear, I’m going to protect you. Please let me. These are my friends, and they’re trying to help.”

He drew a shallow breath, wincing at the pain in his ribs and nodded. You stood and moved to leave, trying to spare him some privacy.

“Wait!” he said, stopping you. “Please don’t leave me.”

You turned back to him and took in his face, still chapped from the winter wind. You couldn’t leave him. So you stood with your back turned, awkwardly rocking on the balls of your feet as Jin and Hoseok helped him change.

“That’s much better,” Hoseok said, evidently satisfied that his patient was no longer at risk for hypothermia. You turned to find Yoongi with his ribs already wrapped and Hoseok working on dressing the wounds on his brow and lip. The flannel pajama bottoms Jin had brought were much too big for him, you might’ve giggled at how cute he looked if the situation were different. Without the dark hoodie and ripped jeans, Yoongi was undeniably adorable.

“I brought my clothes since I wasn’t sure what size would fit. I guess we should’ve borrowed Jimin’s instead,” Jin said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said, bowing his head in thanks.

“It’s no problem. I’ll bring by something that’ll fit you better tomorrow.”

Yoongi glanced from you to Jin to Hoseok, then back to his hands in his lap. He focused on Hoseok’s hands, which were now busy setting the break in his tail.

“Don’t worry about it, I probably have something in my bag I can wear…” He trailed off, remembering the state his belongings were in the last time he saw them. “I’ll go clean up my stuff as soon as it’s light tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of the way before you know it.”

“Yoongi,” you said, trying her best not to sound frustrated. Yoongi’s ears flattened and you knew you hadn’t succeeded.

“I’m sorry. I can leave now if you want,” he said, tail curling back around him as soon as Hoseok released it.

Your heart, already cracked from all the events of the night so far, finally broke completely. Hoseok stepped aside to make room as you came to sit beside Yoongi again. He was shaking, and you realized that he was terrified. He genuinely believed that you wanted him gone; that you’d throw him out in the snow right then and there.

“Don’t leave,” you said, your own voice trembling now. You reached out and lifted his chin so he’d meet your eyes. He did, and you found they were shining with tears of pain and fear that he was desperately trying to hold back. “Please don’t leave. I want you to stay.”

His shaking hand came up to rest over yours, which still cupped his cheek. He leaned in to the first gentle touch he’d felt in years, and the tears finally fell. You pulled him into your arms, and he let you. He buried his face in your neck and cried as you pulled a blanket over his shoulders.

Eventually the sobs quieted. His breaths came in little gasps now, as he tried to catch his breath despite the pain in his ribs. You leaned away after a while to look at his face and saw he’d fallen asleep.

You looked back to find that Jin had gone to check on the boys. Hoseok sat quietly at the end of the bed, not wanting to interrupt. He gave you an approving smile, and you thought his eyes were a bit wet too. It took you a moment to notice Namjoon standing in the doorway. Hoseok helped you ease Yoongi down to lie comfortably, and you carefully disengaged herself from his arms. The two of you exited the room as quietly as you could.

“You were great with him, noona,” Hoseok praised. Namjoon beamed with pride before pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, planting a kiss on top of your head.

“Thank you, Joonie.” Your voice broke and you finally felt all of the emotions hit you. Your shoulders shook and you struggled to stay quiet as you sobbed into Namjoon’s sweater.

A/N: So so so much thanks to my beta reader @sunshineboysbts for helping me create and edit this whole fic! She’s been listening to my ramblings for actual months while I worked on this. Love you, girl!

#yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #hybrid!au #hybrid!yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts #suga #suga fanfic #cafe!au #yoongi #bts suga #bts yoongi

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geniedocroe · 4 years

Text

CLOSE AS STRANGERS

(don malarkey X reader)

angst, potential fluff

wc: 4430+

you were very in love. in fact, you had been for quite a while. since your seventh birthday actually. it was a blur of memories now and you could just barely recognize it. thirteen years passed quickly. soon things began to change and the future you were seeing . . . it wasn’t very bright and happy.

donald malarkey (your best friend, soulmate, the person you were in love with) had always been very perfect in your eyes. there wasn’t much to despise about him. so you simply couldn’t. you couldn’t hate him. of course there were a few things that set you off. these were only little things though. for instance, when the two of you would share a milkshake or something of the sort and he’d accidentally drop it (he was fairly clumsy), or how he’d jokingly trip you (that ticked you off to no end), or when he’d notice everyone else but you . . .

despite these minuscule flaws you loved him. from his toes to the stunning freckles and ginger hair. he was as pretty as a picture. he truly was. you didn’t believe you were as pleasing to be around, but it was always a confidence boost when don politely asked your mother if you come outside for a while. you felt as though he cared when he did little things like that.

today was like any other. you sat on the front porch of the little house you had grown up in, reading a book.

you thought maybe that was why you weren’t as desirable as the other women in town. they all seemed so daft and boring. apparently these “men” didn’t appreciate someone who could use their brain. it frustrated you to no end.

your like any other day was actually very tedious. it was one warm day in june. your mother wouldn’t allow you to work because she encouraged you to attend college first, which you did, but it was summertime. there was not one thing for you to do. so half of your day was spent sitting on the porch, flipping through books you had appeared to have read hundreds of times.

the excitement bubbled throughout your chest when you saw a mess of red hair running your way. it was about time he had shown up. don ran through your front yard and up the steps. he stopped short of you, trying to catch his breath.

“good afternoon, ma’am.” the ginger managed to cough out with a very bad british accent. he never failed to try and turn anything into a joke.

you looked up from your book with a soft smile. you responded in the same accent. “good afternoon, my good sir.”

“the weathers quite alright today, isn’t it?” he questioned, sitting beside you on the swing.

“i guess it is looking rather nice.” you gazed towards the sky. immediately regretting your decision to be blinded by the sun, you blinked at him, seeing colors.

“nice enough for a walk?” don asked, dropping the accent.

you grinned, gently shutting the book before standing to enter the house. “let me ask my mother.”

“you’re twenty years old!” he called after you as the screen door slammed shut. your laugh could be faintly heard.

don gave a soft little chuckle at the sound of your own laughter. he thought it was quite musical. everything about you screamed peace. it was like tiny birds helped you get dressed in the morning, or mice aided you whilst cleaning the house. you were some sort of sweet dream. something that he didn’t even know he wanted, someone he didn’t know he needed.

he may have been smart at times, but he was completely oblivious to your feelings and his own. you hadn’t made it extremely obvious that you were infatuated with your best friend. however, you dropped a subtle hint every now and then. don would just seemingly dance around it, but after some time you realized he didn’t even know how love-struck you were. in fact, you didn’t think he shared that very same feeling. you didn’t think he even had a minuscule bit of that feeling.

don sure felt something, but he thought it was just nerves. his chest felt loose and fuzzy, his stomach seemed to have joined gymnastics, and he just couldn’t seem to stop wringing his hands when you were near. he didn’t hate the way it felt, then again he certainly didn’t appreciate it either.

seconds later you reappeared, slamming the screen door shut behind you. there was a distant yell within the house. don looked up at you with innocent eyes.

“she said yes, of course.”

he stood up with a grin plastered over his freckled face. you bounded down the steps with your dear friend in tow. as the two of you stepped onto the sidewalk, he looped his arm through your own. you appreciated this dearly. it was as close to holding hands that you were gonna get, but it was casual enough where people didn’t ask you too many questions. this action had also made you feel safe. like the two of you were just out of arms reach.

of course you never felt unsafe in don’s presence. you weren’t incapable of protecting yourself, he was just your knight in shining armor. don was there and you would never force him to leave.

“what book were you reading?” don asked, gazing over at you, taking you in as if there was no more time left in the world.

“the wonderful wizard of oz. i cannot tell you how many times i’ve read that book.”

don thought for a moment before replying excitedly. “do you remember when we saw the movie and you dumped that bucket of popcorn on that poor guy? his face is fried into my brain. that was truly one of your best moments.”

“i live to please.” you sighed, throwing up your free arm. “you know what i still can’t get over? how amazing judy garland is. like truly, she is perfect i think.”

“she may be judy garland, but she doesn’t have a thing on you.”

you ducked your head away as your cheeks began to grow warm. a little voice in the back of your brain was screaming at you to just tell him before it was too late. you didn’t know how much time you had left or what girl was going to come and steal him away before you got the chance.

the rest of your walk continued it silence. the empty moments were filled with tranquility. don felt as though he wouldn’t be able to experience times like this for a very long while. all he wanted was to be around his best friend. all he wanted was for you to understand. for you to hug him and tell him that everything would be alright in the end.

approaching “your spot” on this day was unlike any other. it was a beautiful maple tree in the middle of a field with one ancient looking tire swing. not a lot of people knew about this place so it was perfect to get away. to just be the both of you. this was your safe place. you loved it here. you practically grew up here.

you could faintly remember the moment everything changed for the two of you as best friends. the moment you fell in love. you wondered if don remembered it better than you did. you wondered if he even thought about it at all. because to you, it meant the world.

“hey don, can you promise me something?” you asked, hanging upside down from the tire swing. you struggled for a moment before jumping down.

“i’d promise you anything.” he smiled at you as you sat down beside him. the two of you leaned up against the tree, looking out over the field.

“promise we won’t ever be like my parents. that we’ll always be best friends. cause, my parents have no friends and i always want you around.” you wrung your hands together nervously.

“of course we’ll always be best friends. i promise.” he stuck out his pinky to you and you accepted graciously. “oh! i have something for you.”

don pulled his hand away to grab something in his front shirt pocket. the look he had on his face said everything. the excitement had built up at this point. in his hand was held a small chain with a locket hung securely on it. he handed it to you and watched as you inspected it. engraved onto the silver was “forever in my heart” with two tiny roses.

“wow, don!” you gave him a huge grin as he secured the necklace. you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. you spoke into his shoulder. “i love it. thank you!”

“happy birthday.” he said fondly as he pulled away. he stared at you for a moment before he made an impulsive decision.

it was quick and it surely caught you off guard, but don pressed his lips to yours in a fleeting motion. you stood their wide eyed as you blinked at your friend with burning cheeks. don’s face was almost as red as his hair. and you were sure you had never felt this way before.

even at seven years old, you fell in love.

you plopped down beneath the tree without a care in the world. dust flew up as you disturbed the spot with your presence. don stood hesitantly beside the tire swing. his hand reached out to hang onto the rope.

looking out over the empty field sent a warm sensation from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. the sky seemed to stretch for years and the grass was as yellow as ever but that never stopped you from adoring it. the soft chirp of birds was music to your ears. how could you ever learn to loathe a place like this?

“i need to tell you something.”

you looked towards don. he fiddled with the rope for a moment before looking up at you. he didn’t expect you to already be gazing at him with puppy dog eyes. the sight of you almost made his eyes well up with tears.

“i’ll always listen. you know that.”

“i know. that’s why this is going to be so hard.”

as he sat down beside you, you began to think. with the war going on you weren’t very confident in what he was meant to tell you. half the men you had gone to school with had already enlisted or been drafted. it was only a matter of time before don would be leaving too.

there was a moment of silence where the both of you gazed out into the open field. you had to remind yourself that this was the place you loved and that don was your best friend. he wouldn’t ever intentionally do anything to hurt you.

“y/n,” don turned to you, placing a hand on your knee. “i’m being drafted.”

you blinked at him once, twice, then a third time. he stared back at you with sincere, innocent eyes. he prayed that you would understand. that this would all be okay and your friendship wouldn’t suffer.

whatever preparation your mind had done was no use. not a single person on earth was ever ready to face war. it didn’t matter how old you were or how many horrors you had seen. don would come out of the other side of the war as someone else. you knew he would. he would barely make it out alive. you didn’t want to know that person.

“i have to go.” you muttered, shoving his hand away from your knee.

immediately you stood with don following suit. he looked so incredibly hurt by your sudden movements. this was not the reaction he had expected.

a part of you was telling you to turn around and hug him one last time as you stalked off. you knew he was following close behind you but you were hard to keep up with. it was like a giant black hole had materialized in your chest and was beginning to consume all of your organs.

a hand grabbed your shoulder and you whipped around at an ungodly speed. the tears in your eyes were visible. you weren’t angry. don took a step back from you. he frowned at your reaction but still managed to choke out a sentence.

“this isn’t my fault, y’know. i wish i didn’t have to go.” he tried to reach for your hand but decided against it at the last moment.

“i just hope you make it home some day. you stay safe wherever you go, kid. good luck.” you gave a small smile before turning once again.

don was quite taken aback. you hadn’t called him kid in years. it was a joke that had died away after being used one too many times. then it became something you only called him when you were hurting deep down. he couldn’t fathom that this was one of those times.

as you quickly walked through the field you saw flashes of your childhood before you. the good, the bad, all of it. you love it here. actually, loved it.

over the next few days, you and don had absolutely no interactions. you strayed away from him and he felt hopeless. any time you saw him approaching you, you ran in the other direction. however, he never seemed to chase after you. neither of you knew what hurt more.

all don wanted to do was say one last goodbye. he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see you again. there was some part of him that needed to see you but he couldn’t understand why. so, he left.

the day after don left you had begun to regret not going to see him. that black hole in your chest never subsided and you were afraid it was permanent. you had never gone so long without talking to him. the two of you had always been attached at the hip. if he never made it home . . . this silence would become your biggest regret.

your family looked at you with annoyance as you shoved the food around on your plate. you felt selfish to not want to eat but you truly weren’t hungry. you weren’t tired. you weren’t interested in anything. you had no motivation. it was obvious.

“what is the matter, dear?” your mother asked.

“nothing, mother.” you set down your fork, resting your chin in your hand.

“elbows off the table.” your mother instructed. you did as told. “it isn’t nothing, y/n. you haven’t spoke a full sentence in over a week. you haven’t left your bedroom. i haven’t even seen donald around here. are you ill? have the two of you gotten into an quarrel?” your mother questioned you with clear worry on her face. the rest of your family was silent. they looked at you curiously.

“i ain’t ill and there’s nothing wrong with don. he’s gone off to fight in the war. we won’t be seeing him for quite a while. we’ll be lucky to even see him again.” you huffed, studying the table cloth.

your siblings exchanged a glance. they didn’t understand the war. their naive innocent brains couldn’t comprehend why the war was being fought or why some people might not ever come home. you wished you could be as angelic as them.

“are you infatuated with that boy?” your father asked. mother elbowed him sharply in the side as your head shot up.

“infatuated?” you scoffed.

“let me tell you, y/n, military men are no good to marry. i like donald, but he’ll be completely gone after this war. they never come back home with a sane mind.” your father pointed his fork at you with a raised brow. “thought it will be such a same. he had a great future.”

“yes, because you’re such a great judge of character.” your mother dismissed her husbands opinion with a wave of her freshly manicured hand. “when he returns home you will dote on that boy. i’ve seen firsthand how much warfare can change a man, he’ll need all the help you can give him.”

you looked back down at your plate before looking up once more and scanning every face at the table. they stared at you expectantly.

“may i be excused?”

dear y/n,

i know we haven’t been on speaking terms and i’m sorry for that. i miss you so much. you are my best friend. your opinion means everything to me, but i hope you have tried to come to terms with my absence. it’s been over a year and neither of us have reached out to one another. that truly breaks my heart.

i’ve finished my training as a paratrooper. i’m sure you’ve never heard of that before. to put it simply, alongside the men i have trained with, i will be jumping out of airplanes with a parachute. it sounds terrifying, i know it does. however, i have trained with the best. you don’t need to worry.

i have met some amazing people during my training. it’s safe to say i’ve also met some insufferable individuals. there’s this guy named skip. he really became my best friend over the past year (of course no one could take your place). you would love him. he’s a great guy. super funny too.

my company consists of mostly good men. i don’t think i would ever say otherwise. they have to be extremely brave to want to jump out of an airplane. i have really gotten to know these men and i’m sure i’ve made bonds that will never break.

the beginning of my training took place in georgia. we ran up this mountain more times than i could even imagine. it was so painfully hot everyday. i don’t think i’d ever want to live there.

today i’m in a camp in new york. we leave in a couple days. we’re getting on a boat that’s heading over the atlantic ocean. i don’t know where we’re going or how long i’ll be gone. i’ve always wanted to visit europe, but not like this.

i hope you’re doing well. maybe you’ve graduated from school. maybe you have a great job. maybe you’re dating the best man you could find. maybe you have a kid. maybe you don’t have any of that. what a shame that’d be. you’re a real catch. you deserve anything and everything.

even if i don’t ever come home, i want you to live the kind of life that was always meant for you. find a new best friend. move on with your life. show everyone that you can’t be walked all over. don’t think that it’s all over because you won’t be seeing me again. in fifty years you could have everything you’ve ever worked for.

i miss you. i always will.

-don malarkey

dear y/n,

in about two days we will officially be entering the war. i’m terrified and i know i should be. i’m just trying to push through everything so that one day i will be able to come home.

there’s not much i’ll be able to say. i actually don’t know what to say. training has always been rough. they claim they want us to be the best. i secretly think they just want to see us struggle.

there has been a lot of difficulty over the past couple of months. despite all of this, there’s been the usual shenanigan. skip and our other friend alex, have dragged into some odd situations. i’m glad they do though. these are some memories i’ll hold close to my heart forever.

i still miss you. you never responded to my last letter. unless you did . . . perhaps i never got your response. i hope you’re doing great.

is there anything knew happening in your life? did you graduate? have you met any peculiar people? have you met anyone who’s completely changed your life? do you still go to that diner? i know you loved it there. i miss the milkshakes so much. are you working at all? do you miss me?

i pray that you will be able to respond to me. i’ll never know what my last letter will be. this could be it.

i miss you. i always will.

-don malarkey

dear y/n,

i still haven’t gotten a response. i hope you’re okay. i don’t know if you’re even alive. how horrible would it be if i was the one fighting in the war and you’re the one who’s passed?

this war is brutal. it’s horrible actually. i cant even explain how bad it is because those words aren’t even in my vocabulary. i’ve seen some really horrifying things. things that would make your hair curl.

we’ve lost people. good people. men with lives and families back home. people just like me. it just makes me realize that my days are potentially numbered.

i ended up getting into some trouble actually. a friend of mine and i had stolen a motorcycle. we went through the country in england and honestly i haven’t had that much fun in a long time. it was nice to let go and appreciate everything that was happening at the time.

if you are reading this, please respond. i need to know that you don’t hate me. or if you do hate me, i still want to know. i haven’t gotten many letters but every single one i get, i hope it’s you.

how are you? i really want to know. it’s been so long. are you okay? i miss you. i haven’t spoke to you in over two years. i’m sure something has happened in your life. something that has changed you completely. please respond, y/n.

i miss you. i always will.

-don malarkey

“hey mal!” skip called over to his friend who sat beside george luz.

don looked up curiously. skip, alex, john julian, and babe heffron stared back. they all shook furiously from the harsh weather of bastogne. taking the piss of conversations during their sad mealtimes were the only way to get by.

“who’s that girl back home that you’re constantly chattering on about?” skip asked.

“girl back home?” george echoed skip with raised eyebrows. “why have i never heard about this?”

don rolled his eyes as everyone looked at him with curious eyes. he had only ever spoke about you to skip. he hadn’t even told alex about you. i mean, what was there to say? you were only friends.

“i gotta hear this.” joe toye leaned forward to listen in.

“there’s this girl back home and she’s . . . she’s everything. you know, we were best friends. we grew up together. she hasn’t spoken to me since i told her i was leaving though. and – and i used to think i wouldn’t need her to just exist, but now without her . . . i feel like there’s a part of me missing. it’s horrible. she’s my best friend, y’know.” don explained. beside him george burst into uncontrollable laughter. skip and alex shared a look before cracking up as well. julian looked at babe with a confused expression. “why are you laughing at me?”

“sounds like you are in love with her, my friend.” joe nodded. george took a moment to try and regain himself but he burst back into laughter a second later.

“there’s no way. i’ve known her my whole life. i just - i just miss her, that’s all.” don pushed george away. the man was all but laughing in his face.

don felt like he was folding back into himself and pulling away from his friends. he didn’t want to bring you up and then get laughed at for your friendship. you hadn’t even spoken in years.

“you said you haven’t spoken in years?” julian piped up. don nodded. “well, why not?”

“i don’t think she wanted to face the idea that i wouldn’t be around for a while. she was pretty hurt. called me a name i hadn’t heard in years. i don’t blame her.”

“oh, so she’s in love with you too?” joe suggested and don gave him an incredulous look.

“i strongly doubt that.”

“you never know until you tell her that you love her too.” julian said.

“what the hell do you know about love?” babe snorted at the replacement next to him.

“i just think it seems kind of obvious.” julian shrugged. “he can’t realize that he’s in love with her and she could be in love with him and doesn’t realize it either. if the both of them can’t come to terms with it then the other would never know. so, they’ll both be suffering while they watch the other move on with their lives. might as well tell her now.”

everyone blinked at julian. for being so young and virginal, he spoke very wisely about love. he had more of a mind than don did. perhaps he would confess to you . . .

y/n,

i’ve never felt more alone. skip & alex got hit. they’re my best friends. i don’t know what to do. please tell me you’ll still be there when i get home.

-don malarkey

don,

i’m sorry about your friends. i’ll be here.

-y/n

dear y/n,

the past couple of months and years even have been extremely difficult. the war has changed my life drastically. it’s put me through the ringer. i pray it hasn’t done the same for you.

everyday i anxiously await the announcement of the japanese surrender. i cannot tell you how exciting that news was. the war is finally over. after years of all the pain and suffering for millions of people. of course, there’s still tons of rebuilding that will need to be done and there’s still so much that needs to be change. all i want to do is come home.

i hope you’re waiting for me. if you haven’t already met someone and started growing a life for yourself, i’d love to go out with you. you’re always the only thing i can think about. which is not good in a war.

i love you. i have always loved you. you mean everything to me and it’s hurt the both of us knowing that neither of us had said it sooner.

i’m coming home soon. i promise. i’ll be home before you know it. please don’t forget about me.

i miss you. i always have.

-don malarkey

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #donald malarkey x reader #don malarkey #donald malarkey #donald malarkey imagine #band of brothers imagine

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twelvedy7 · 3 years

Text

Twisted - One shot

warning: sensitive topics (drugs).

I just wanted to write something a bit different. It might be a bit OCC but I thought it might be a great fit for the manga universe. This story won’t be published anywhere else than tumblr so feel free to save the story if you like it.

Oh and also english isn’t really my native language so sorry if there are incoherences.

Takano had no sense of self-control. From a very young age he has been a witness of the sheer harshness of his mother and the complete indifference of his father towards their family. Despite how much he tried to convince himself of his difference he inherited from most of their flaws, which filled him with anger every time he thought about it.

No wonder that whenever he met someone bright, kind, generous and appreciated he became more aware of his whole dark gloomy personality. That was the case with Ritsu he was still viewing today as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago.

No wonder that when he met this bright, kind and generous highschool kid he had become more aware of his dark gloomy personality. He was still viewing Ritsu as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago and yet he couldn’t understand for the life of him the reason why such a lovable person would waste their time with him rather than finding another likeable person that would be such a better companion than him.

If all the open rejections from the brunette could make him believe he hated him, he was at least smart enough to read between the lines and see what the other tried so hard to conceal under feigned anger and flustered reactions.

What seemed to be like a bitter-sweet genuine love story from two ignorant teenagers who lost each other from a foolish misunderstanding was driving him straight into madness. Ritsu was constantly on his mind, invading his thoughts at any time of the day, reminding him of the terrible person he was and how he will never be nowhere near enough for him. Even in the poorly credible reality where the younger one would actually build up the courage to admit his feelings, he knew that their relationship was sealed to failure.

One day Ritsu would mature and realise how incompatible they were and how idealistic they’ve been this whole time before leaving him to find another person that could offer him the support and love he needed. Maybe one day Ritsu would find the man of his dreams, different from senpai in every way, to finally live the blissful life he aspired to. That’s what broke his heart the most: they were not made for each other. No matter how hard he tried, it will never be enough because they were simply not meant to.

He imagined Ritsu’s soulmate to be fun, social, caring, communicative and considerate which would make him forget all the turmoil he went through for all this time. His parents might be so enchanted by their personality that the fact they weren’t An-Chan wouldn’t even bother them.

The truth is he was physically and emotionally drained. He couldn’t feel a thing if it wasn’t his love for Ritsu and sometimes he felt as if that was his last tie with sanity. There were times where he would shut down his emotions. When it became too difficult to confront their inevitable fate, he would put himself in a semi-automatic mode working up to 15 hours straight without paying attention to anything or anyone, only accomplishing what he ought to.

Over time, he came to accept that he wasn’t able to love anyone without causing them a great deal of pain and suffering. That’s why he decided to distance himself from the few people who actually cared about him in his life and managed to bring him some split meaningful moments of happiness. It was like a lightning bolt shaking him from side to side, making him surrender to the hope of one day being able to spend the rest of his life with Ritsu and recovering from his long-lost friendship with Yokozawa. He hurt them both and didn’t deserve to be part of their lives.

His phone vibrated. He broke off his thoughts to center his attention on the alias displaying on the screen: “Taisho” along with a message “I’m here.”

He stood up from the floor, came up to the entrance of his apartment and opened the door. A man of average-height in his mid-thirties was waiting for him. At first glance, he gave the impression of being a regular salary-man coming back home to his family after a long day of hard work. However, he came to discover that the man likely had a long history of debt behind him involving matters such as a costly divorce and low paychecks.

Not bothering to greet him, he pulled out 6,000 yen from his pocket and handed it to the fearful looking man who replaced the notes with a small transparent plastic bag containing a white powder.

“Same thing next week?” asked the anxious black-haired man, his light blue eyes too faithful to be a dealer squeezing behind his oval glasses.

“Yeah. See you.”

Without giving him a second glance, he double-locked the door and came back to his dimly lit living room that felt so lonely without Ritsu here. It would take some time, if not forever, to prevent this heavy load in his heart from manifesting every time he would find himself alone without the prospect of his first love joining him any time soon.

It still pained him… Nao came unannounced in the office earlier in the morning and asked Ritsu out for something that too likely looked like a date. A walk in the city center, a restaurant, and a nighttime exposure. That bastard.

The rare times he had managed to take Ritsu out for a date was by forcefully dragging him out of his apartment or bluntly lying by message playing the card of ‘emergency’. He remembered the dull ache he felt in the morning as he realised how easy it was for his “best-friend” to take him out to a full outing while he had to prepare a strategy days ahead just to drink a coffee together.

Opening the tiny bag in his hands, he chased away his dark thoughts and kneeled in front of his coffee table, pouring half of the powder out on its surface and realigned it in two fine lines with the help of an old credit card. He usually didn’t take such high doses in one shot, but tonight he knew that he needed it. The accumulated pain and overthinking were taking a toll on him. Rolling a paper, he brought it to his right nostril and sniffed the first line, ignoring the burning pain in his cavity before passing it to his left one and repeated the action.

A few seconds later he started feeling the tiny molecules flowing through his blood system, noticing the faster pace of his heart beat and the gradual relaxation of his muscles as the drug invaded his mind.

He closed his eyes.

As always, the thrill was exquisite. The far away sounds of ambient city noises echoed and at some point the only thing he could decipher in the absolute silence was his own breath. His body was soft and any psychological pain he felt instantly disappeared. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm fluffy blanket while stroking his hair with a gentle grasp, providing him an endless feeling of comfort and security he so desperately needed.

At that moment, everything stopped and all his troubles went away. Nothing mattered anymore. He was back being a young child pampered by a protective mother he never had with an unconditional sense of love. Pleasurable sensations coursed through his body from head to toes until his spirit went numb and he lost any notion of space and time.

He reached that moment of nothingness that he wished could last forever.

___

“Takano-san!”

...

“Takano-san!”

Who was it?

The voice seemed so far away he wasn’t even sure it was real.

“Masamune!” Why would someone try to break the silent darkness that was surrounding him?

For what seemed like hours, he felt himself trapped in-between the process of gaining and losing consciousness. He didn’t want to be drawn from his deep slumber yet.

He recognized some familiar voices in the background but it was hard to put a name on them as they seemed to continuously echo.

It took him several more minutes to realise that people were present and it shook him. He became hyper aware of his environment.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a bunch of white blouses around him scampering around the room at a feverish speed.

His mind whirled. The world seemed to be going so fast but his brain was so slow.

His golden eyes blinked several times to adjust to the brightness of the room. In an instant he was blinded by the artificial light of the leds on the ceiling.

In the chaos of all the fast-paced strangers around him, he felt a delicate hand fondling with the hair on the short back of his neck and let out a soft tired moan escape his lips.

“Takano-san can you hear me?!”

He groggily stretched out his limbs while burying his head on the petite body frame behind him and looked up to see who was the kind stranger offering him such soft intentions.

Above him were two wide teary green eyes displaying a worried expression. Despite his blurry vision, he could recognize the refined and familiar traits of the man he loved. It looked surreal, having the both of them like this sharing such intimacy in a restless atmosphere.

Next to him was standing Yokozawa in his usual professional attire. He could only watch them through half-closed eyes all the while trying to figure out what they were doing in his apartment in the first place.

“He’s stable now. Overdoses happen regularly when cocaine and other powerful stimulants are added to the equation. That’s what producers do nowadays to boost the effects”. Said a firm feminine voice. He could see the lady in white gesturing around to her colleagues and immediately realised what just happened. She was staring at him, probably trying to jauge how awake her patient was.

“You were lucky Takano-san. This could have been much more serious.”

He saw his friend sitting next to Ritsu, his usual severe expression ruptured by the deep crease in his eyebrows.

“How did you find me?” asked the raven, his voice so weak he wasn’t sure the two others heard him.

The brunette brought his face closer to his ear, petting his forehead as he replied in a shaky shy voice: “Yokozawa-san found you like this…” he heard a sneeze. “The front door was unlocked and your phone was ringing without you answering it. You… You stopped breathing.”

He felt absolutely miserable.

Trying to shift his position to have a better view of his comrades, he caught the look of utter disappointment and guilt from his older friend. He probably thought that he was long done with this dark hazardous period of his life.

“I’m… I’m sorry... I didn’t want to…”

His battle to stay awake was getting harder and harder.

“It’s okay Masamune. Just rest for now.”

The nurse took a hold of his wrist and stuck the intravenous line with a patch.

“We’re going to transfer you to the clinic as you need to take several tests. You’re safe now but your body needs to recover.”

The hand that was playing with his hair resumed and he let his head fall back on his lap. This combined with the liquid in his body led him to a sleep without dreams.

___

When he woke up again, he found himself buried under the sheets of a hospital bed. It took him some time to become accustomed to the artificial lighting of the room. Gathering enough energy to finally keep his eyes open, he gazed at the clock at his right indicating 4:55AM.

The first thing he felt was an atrocious headache that hit him with a massive chest pain undertaking his whole body. He noticed the numerous wires connected to his skin accompanied with the steady regular bips of a machine.

He heard a light snore on his right. Shifting his head, he immediately saw the small fragile figure crawling up into a ball on the couch. A cheap blanket was covering him from toes to his neck. This sight made him feel so terribly selfish. As seconds went by he started getting back to a normal state of awareness despite a fizzy pang at the back of his skull.

With as much strength as he could gather he sprawled a hand towards him and rested it on the others’ laps. He stroked his thigh lightly with the help of his thumb and stared at his seemingly exhausted resting face. He felt so worthless. He knew he had hurt him badly in the past already and the only thing he could think of is that this was too much.

“I’m so sorry Ritsu…”.

After reuniting with his first love following the 10 years they had spent apart from one another he had started to believe in fate. Yet he had been too trustful, using it as a justification for every one of his impatient and inappropriate moves towards the younger one. Everything became painfully obvious. This whole thing they had was destructive and that was mainly his fault. It was time to finally respect the distance that Ritsu wanted and deserved. He could not go back to these college years pretending that nobody cared about him.

Now Ritsu would need him.

Still, they were nowhere near close from getting into a relationship. Too many mistakes had been made. It was crucial for both men to work on themselves first as jumping the steps one more time would only bring them unhappiness.

That day Takano swore he would stop pursuing Ritsu. He’s forever been broken and finally accepting to get help was a start towards a less twisted life.

“It’s okay Ritsu.”

One day they would be okay. They would get the life they both secretly wanted.

#sekaiichihatsukoi #Sekaiichi Hatsukoi #junjou romantica #Ritsu Onodera #Takano Masamune #yokozawa takafumi

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