#i just did that start at 2 and went all the way to 40 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tangerineastronaut · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I saw you take requests.

May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3

Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)

Part 2

The one where your best friend can't keep his secret anymore (and you're oblivious).

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

🎧 FRI(END)S by V

“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”

Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees.

One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell.

And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone.

“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.

He was right. He had warned you.

You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?

“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot.

“You’re not special.”

Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.

But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.

It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen."

You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.

The fuck…? What does that even—

But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.

You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore.

He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful.

“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later.

“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee.

“When am I ever?”

“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”

“I didn’t say anything, pie.”

“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”

It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation.

“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble.

“Want a bath?”

You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked.

“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown.

“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”

“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”

That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.

Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook.

You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.

“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario.

“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”

“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him.

Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing.

“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”

Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?

“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall.

You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?

By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.

“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen.

The empty shelves make your eye twitch.

“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”

“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”

“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes.

“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum.

Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day.

The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks.

You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment.

You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done.

“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.

You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing.

“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster.

“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”

He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief.

You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.

> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??

You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks.

You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never.

“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch, but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position.

“Ow…”

“Told you.”

“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!”

You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin.

“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.

“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I’ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”

You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers.

You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled.

“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”

You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean.

Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it.

“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply.

“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”

You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice.

Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.

You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.

10:43 a.m.

Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.

Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.

Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?

He really was kinda...pretty.

No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.

The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.

So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.

You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.

"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."

"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.

"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."

"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.

"Where you going?"

"I need to pee, wanna come with?"

"It's early."

"It's almost 11."

"Yeah, early."

Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.

He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.

Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.

Mistakes like that.

His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."

You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.

Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.

"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"

Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.

"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."

"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."

"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"

"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"

Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.

"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"

You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.

"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"

"I....you're so fucking weird."

"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.

Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.

"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.

"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."

Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.

Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.

"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.

"Don't what?"

"You don't care who I fuck?"

His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.

"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"

"I don't know, should you?"

Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.

But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.

"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"

"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.

"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."

He sighs, moving a hand to his face.

"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"

"Wh—"

You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.

"Jackson, wait—shit."

You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.

"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.

"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.

"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.

You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).

After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.

"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.

"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.

Tears.

That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.

"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"

"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.

"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."

Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.

"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."

"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"

"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"

"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."

"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.

"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.

"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.

"Oh. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not."

"Then...?"

"She's an idiot."

"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."

"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.

"Maybe she's insecure?"

"She is. Very."

"Huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh. Hm."

Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?

"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"

Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.

"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."

"Mhm."

"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.

"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."

"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"

"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.

Wait.

Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.

"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"

"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."

You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.

"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.

Is that oka—?

"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"

"Yep," you nod.

Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.

He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.

Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.

You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.

Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.

You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?

It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.

By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.

"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.

"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"

"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.

"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."

Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.

"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"

He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.

"What's funny?" you puff.

"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.

"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."

"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.

Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.

"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"

"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."

"Gross. We are not."

"We split the bills, pie."

"Most roommates do."

"We cook together."

"Most roommates do."

"My mother loves you."

"Your mother loves everyone."

"Not true. And my father loves you."

You pause, then squint.

"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.

"I do," he says quietly.

You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.

"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.

You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.

"Y/n, I—"

"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.

"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"

"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."

His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.

"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."

You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?

"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.

"Please."

Part 2 is out now!

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thebestofoneshots · 1 year ago

Text

No Sweeter Innocence than Our Gentle Sin Pt.1 | Remus Lupin x Reader

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader

Word Count: 8.6 k

Prompt: You did not want to go to church that day, but your spirits are uplifted when you meet Father Remus, and your mind starts creating a mischievous scheme, to both retaliate over those years of being forced to go and take something from them.

Alternatively, R is really mad at the church and decides to steal one of their priests for it (but also kind of falls for him).

Warnings: SMUT, Non-apt for Christians(?). Reader is a little cynical (or maybe cynical Af). Suggestive talks, touching oneself, fingering. Reader seduces a Priest (so whatever you might expect from that), hierophiIia, corruption!kink, praise!kink (if you squint). Consent is sexy!

Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Part 2 is out now!

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

ACT I: Remember to keep holy the LORD’s Day

You really didn’t want to go to church. You had one hell of a week and you were incredibly tired so when you got the phone call with your grandma inviting you to go, you were about ready to say no.

But your grandma has always been extremely catholic, and while you weren’t anymore, you hadn’t seen her in a while, and you missed her. Her being in town for your short vacation was a good enough reason to visit her more often (she was staying with your parents) and if you’d have to live through a whole hour of some boring priest talking about all the things that are wrong with society nowadays, then you would. Even if you didn’t want to.

That didn’t stop you from being cranky over the fact that you’d have to wake up extra early to take the 40-minute ride to the church she claimed “was the best one in the city,” according to her priest back at home (of course she couldn’t just ask you to the nearest fucking church).

Breathe, you told yourself. This is for your grandma, you repeated as you sat on the narrow seat of public transport, next to the gym bro that smelled like he could use a shower and whose massive arms would bump into you whenever the bus went through a pothole.

When you finally reached your spot, you had to wake him up so he would move his massive legs to the side and you could fucking pass through, walking down the bus in the sea of people that for some reason had taken the same one. Once outside you took a deep breath and tried to relax again. You didn’t want to look as pissed as you felt when you finally saw your grandma. At least it was a fucking cloudy day and you wouldn’t have to deal with the sun as you walked the 4 blocks left you had until you arrived at the church.

Who the fuck would invent a church so goddamn far from everything important? You wondered as you approached.

Oh, you thought once you saw it. Someone who wanted a lot of space then.

The church was massive. And while you might have been prone to exaggerate when you were pissed, you were far from exaggerating now. It was almost a small castle, maybe the largest church in the city, certainly the largest one you had seen in your life (not that you had seen a great many but certainly a few).

On the outside, there were very many intricate details carved, a few gargoyles at the top in a very Notre Dame-esque sort of way. Except while Notre Dame ended in a very square and neat way, the towers of this one extended far above the roof and ended in a pointy, almost menacing sort of way. You had been so absorbed by the intricate details of the tower, that you didn’t realise you were walking straight into someone.

“Uhh sorry,” you said as you stumbled back, pulling your gaze from the structure and towards the person right in front of you. You were absorbed by him the second your eyes met his: golden brown, almost shining with the way the sun was hitting them. You weren’t sure you had ever seen a more perfect person in your life, they were exactly your–

“I see you’ve met Father Remus!” Your grandma said as she grabbed onto your arm and pulled you back from him a couple more steps.

Father? He’s married? You wondered until you noticed his clothes, all-black suit, white necktie, she meant Father as in Priest?!?

The man –Remus– smiled, gentle, sweet and caring. “Nice to meet you…” there was silence. It took you a second to realise the man was expecting your name, and you gave it to him, fast and still slightly disoriented.

“Come on, angel,” your nan said as she pulled you towards the entrance. “We can talk after the mass.”

“Nice to meet you, Remus,” you said, turning up your most charming smile as you waved goodbye to the man. His eyes seemed to trail on your hand, but your grandma pulled you again, and you were forced to turn around.

“It’s Father Remus,” your grandma corrected.

“Right, sorry,” you said, almost carelessly, not carelessly enough for her to notice, though.

“I’m glad you came, I don’t think any of your cousins made it.”

“Oh, it was nothing, Nan,” you said as you turned around to see if Remus was still around. He was not anymore, you turned back to her. “It’s lovely to be here with you.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie, you liked spending time with her, she was lovely. But you did not like going to the church, you had long parted with the catholic ideals and you weren’t interested in most of the archaic teachings of the church. Especially the homophobic ones, you thought the closed-mindedness of the church was a terrible thing, and that it stopped many people from being who they truly were, not to mention how it affected a lot of people you knew. It was because of that close-mindedness that some of your friends had to hide themselves from their parents. Because god forbid their children were gay.

Now, not everything about the church was bad, some values were good and important, but at this point in the progressive world, perhaps the bad outweighed the good. And in the end, religions were just a way of controlling the masses, no surprise the church service was called “mass”.

You could have made a list of everything that was wrong, in a very Lutheran manner, sent it to your grandma and never attended again, but she was old and you knew there was no way she’d understand, especially when she’d been conditioned to think a certain way for far more years than you’d been alive. So instead, you decided to sit through the service with her, and make her happy, rather than be the rebel you sometimes wanted to be.

Ah the service, it was boring until Remus came out. If you thought he’d look handsome in the cassock, you could have been awestruck when you saw him wearing that white alb. Yes, those Sunday school days had taught you enough. He wore a cincture around the waist that matched the alb, and you’d swear you deserve hell when you pictured yourself pulling the entire thing off him in a secret corner of the massive church. In the middle of mass, while the head priest kept talking about things related to Jesus and how he saved someone or whatever, you were thinking of calm and collected Father Remus, losing control and giving in to the lust of the flesh, and all of it for you.

A small smirk played on your face as you thought of all the things you’d like to do to Remus, of all the sounds you’d have him make. Was it sinful? Perhaps. Did it warrant hell? Most likely. Luckily, you didn’t believe in hell any more than you believed in heaven.

And then it came to you. The idea that would certainly warrant a hell of a lot more than your lewd imaginings. If stealing was a sin, then how sinful would it be to steal something from god? To pilfer one of his men for yourself?

What an ungodly thing to do, so devilish that perhaps you wouldn’t be in hell to be punished but rather to punish. Was it perhaps a revenge for being forced into church for so many years, for having to sit through hours of Sunday School and the indoctrination you had to put up with but somehow managed to see past? Yeah. But at this point, you weren’t sure you cared. Something about Remus had sucked you in like a moth to a flame and you wanted to cling to whatever that was. Otherwise, you might have not be able to go through with your plan.

It wouldn’t happen all in one day, it couldn’t happen all in one day. It had to be slow, steady, and repetitive, like the snake tempting Eve, like Eve tempting Adam. You hadn’t seen yourself as a sexy woman throughout your life, at least not the kind of Sexy Femme Fatale that men seemed to live and diе for in movies. No, you had never been like that, and you wouldn’t start today. But you would perform the most outrageous and strong act of seduction you had ever thought of and it had to be done perfectly, or you wouldn’t get what you wanted.

What was it that you wanted again? Right, you wanted Remus Lupin.

ACT II: Thou shall not steal

“When was the last time you confessed?” Your Nan whispered as she leaned onto you, people were already standing for communion.

You hesitated. “I’m not sure, Nan.”

She hummed in return, clearly disapproving of your distancing from the church. You were sure she would have called you heathen if you said the truth, it had been years.

“I could go up and confess now,” you said as you looked at the confessionary in the back, you had seen Remus enter it, but you suspected it was too soon to start with the plan.

“No darling, repent for your sins and you can confess later. Perhaps after mass.”

“Or during the week,” you said with a knowing smile.

“Isn’t it a long way from your apartment?”

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it anyway.”

She stood up and took the communion, leaving you sitting on the chair and looking at the way people would walk toward the altar. Judging them, if that made sense. There was a woman who accommodated her breasts back in her seat before standing up, she threw a look at one of the other priests as she took the host. You gave her an approving sort of glance before you turned to someone else. Now you didn’t exactly consider her way of seducing appealing, but then again, yours wouldn’t be much better either. So to each their own. The man behind her had been touching himself in the very back of the church and had stared at her ass throughout the entire line, probably for more material.

Sinners, the church claiming to be so saint, and it was full of them.

You weren’t much better than them either, the difference is that you didn’t harbour the same hate towards yourself for it. No, you knew what nature was and you knew that despite how much we humans pretended to be better, we still were all animals. And there are a few things that animals want and need. Love, or the act of love, was one of them. That’s what you’d be using to your favour.

When your Nan came back, you helped her kneel and do her praying; all the while you attentively looked around. Remus had left the concessionary already and he was at the front with the rest of the priests. He spotted you looking at him and you smiled kindly, innocently at him. The kind of smile someone with the thoughts surging in your head wouldn’t be able to give, and yet, you accomplished it seamlessly.

He gave you a courteous nod and you reciprocated it. The rest of the mass was as boring as you’d expect it to be; except for the fact that Remus was looking at you rather often, either he was curious about their new parishioner, or he was interested. Either way, you were sure you’d be able to use that in your favour.

When the mass was over, you had to wait for all of them to exit the church first and then you helped your Nan stand and walked with her towards the entrance. Remus was there, giving short blessings and handing out some pamphlets about donations and other similar stuff. Your grandma was the one to pull you towards him. “What a wonderful mass,” she said. “Father Ernest was onto something when he told me to come here while I was in the city.”

“Thank you,” Remus said bashfully, you could almost see him blush at the praise. What would a real blush look on him? You were dying to know.

“Wonderful indeed, although I would have liked to hear your interpretation of the verses, Remus,” You said.

“Father Remus,” your grandma corrected.

“Oh, it’s fine. If it feels more personal you may call me just Remus, dear one.”

You tried to hold back the snide smile you would have thrown your Nan had it been any other woman. You could call him Remus. You were a dear one.

“Right, perhaps another day,” you added with a smile and pulled your grandma to the side so the next person could take the blessing.

“I preach on Wednesdays,” Remus said, tone borderline desperate, as he raised his head over the people and women piling around him. Clearly, you weren’t the only one to harbour a little crush on Father Remus. It didn’t matter though, because you’d be the one to have him.

Next Wednesday you didn’t make any plans, and you put on something simple but elegant. A squared-neck shirt and a pair of jeans. When you arrived at the church, you didn’t waste as much time admiring it, instead, you decided to walk straight inside. His mass had started already, and you sneaked in through the side until you reached the third row of seats. There weren’t as many people as you’d expect on a Wednesday, but Remus was preaching like there were hundreds. He was wonderful.

He had a way with words that made you want to listen, perhaps if you weren’t so cynical, it would even convert you. But rather than thinking of his prayer, you were thinking of how incredible he would be as a teacher, you imagined the students, squirming for him and his words in their seats. You imagined the older, more daring girls going after him. You were lucky that wasn’t the situation, the kind of woman that could seduce any man had the benefit of practice that you didn’t. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against them.

But the kind of woman that went to the church, the kind that flocked to him at the end of mass, they weren’t a threat. They were too pious to try anything even remotely similar to what you had in mind. In fact, you even dared to think you were lucky that he had been a priest and not a teacher because then he would have perhaps been married, and while you were willing to take a man from god, you would never take one from another woman. You had limits.

After the mass was over, you waited a few minutes before leaving the church “accidentally” bumping into him again. “Remus,” you said with a smile. “We seem to continue bumping into each other,” you added as you leaned closer to him and pressed your cheek to his, making a low smacking sound, and then repeating on the other side. He looked bewildered at the contact. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable? I got this habit while I was in France and I still haven’t shaken it off completely.”

“Oh… No, no,” hesitant, bashful, you loved every bit of it. “Not at all, it’s fine. You can greet me however you like.”

“Is that privilege reserved to me, or does every other parishioner have it?” He seemed taken aback by your words. “I’m joking, Remus,” you added and placed your hand on his arm, before pulling it back tentatively. “Your mass was wonderful.”

“Thank you, I’m lucky to work at Saint Gryffin.”

“The way I see it, Saint Gryffin is lucky to have you. I mean lots of women come here to see the beautiful priest Remus.”

“You think?” he asked. Remus didn’t exactly consider himself handsome, he thought his scars would scare people away rather than attract them. But he sometimes failed to see past them and didn’t pay attention to his beautiful eyes, to his charming smile, to his long lashes, or to his well-toned frame. It was as if he had been carved by Michael Angelo himself, from your perspective.

“For sure,” you replied. “Take a closer look at the way they look at you on Sunday and you’ll see.” He blushed, a deeper shade of red than your Nan had pulled out of him, you resisted the urge to bite your lip and smiled instead. “Today was lovely, I’ll see you around,” you said before waving goodbye and exiting the church.

You went again a week later, Remus would sometimes lose his focus on the bible and look at you instead. That day you had chosen a skirt. Nothing too short or indecent, but certainly short enough to allow your legs to be seen and admired. An older man hadn’t stopped staring at you throughout the mass, and you would have perhaps told him off if it hadn’t been for the fact that Remus had been in a similar position.

Remus’ distraction, his hesitance and his constant turning to you were enough to drive your attention away from the man and onto him. You would smile, and you would nod, and you would pretend to be a supportive little lamb. Innocent, and meek and kind. Just what he expected from you. And it was that Wednesday, the third time that you’d met him, that you realised you had him right where you wanted him to be.

He for sure had a thing for you, be it curiosity, admiration, or a small crush. You had gotten his attention, and you had gotten into his mind. Now all you needed was to have him.

ACT III: Thou shall not Covet someone else’s property

The next Wednesday you had been late, you had allowed your hair to be slightly dishevelled and your cheeks were warm, despite the autumn getting colder. You had bitten your lips and you looked like you had just gotten away from a dire situation. You’d done it on purpose. When his gaze fell on you he almost stopped talking completely. He staggered to complete his words and you nodded for him to go on. When he was done, he rushed out, and you stayed in your seat. Eyes closed and hands clasping each other, pretending to pray.

That’s when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, he whispered your name. “Are you okay, Little Lamb?”

It took a real effort not to laugh at his nickname. Not because you thought it was stupid, but because you were so far from a lamb that you might as well have been the wolf that ate it. You turned to him, fake distress clouding your features, “I’ve done something terrible, Remus.”

He was kind, almost impossibly so, it almost made you want to stop your plan and leave him the pure man he was.

Almost.

“I’m sure there’s nothing you could do, that was as bad as you’ve described.”

“I’d like to confess,” you said. “Would you take my confession?”

Remus seemed hesitant, biting his lip. He knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t hear your confession, not when he wanted to maintain a personal relationship with you, not when he’d develop a crush. But it was in your preoccupied gaze, in the small frown that etched your features, in the way your lips curved down and in the bobbing of your throat as you swallowed. How ever could he deny you?

Oh, those thoughts would be the ones that would drag him into sin, nay, not drag, but rather, waft him into it. If Remus hadn’t been so enamoured by you, perhaps corrupting him would have proved a harder task to accomplish for you.

“Okay,” he said simply. And helped you stand. Guiding you towards the empty confessionary and sitting in his spot as you opened the door to the other one. It was a narrow place, enough for you to sit. There was a screen dividing the two of you, you couldn’t see him, but you suspected he could see you. And there was a small, square hole in between, enough to fit perhaps a hand. You assumed it was there in case you’d like to give something to the priest, as a thank you.

Remus cleared his throat, and in the most professional way he could muster he said, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. My child, what brings you to the sacrament of confession today?”

His voice had been different, stronger as if he was trying not to be himself. You loved it. “Father, I come seeking forgiveness for my sins. I have strayed from the path of righteousness and I seek reconciliation,” you let your voice bend and crack near the end.

“I am here to listen, my child. Let us begin with a moment of reflection. Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess.”

You held back the smirk that threatened to appear when he said that, just in case he was actually able to see you. “I have fallen in love with a man I cannot have.”

“Oh, darling,” he said, that was Remus, not Father Remus. You had cracked through his façade and you hadn’t even started. “That is not a sin. It’s happened to the best of us.”

“But it is a sin the way I think of him, Father,” you responded. You heard a sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t speak further. “I have dreamt of him, of his lips, of his eyes with long lashes, the way his hair frames his face, of his beautiful and strong hands–” Remus tried not to be jealous of the man you described, but everything about him seemed perfect, and unlike himself, he probably could have you. Your beautiful lips, and eyes, focused solely on him. He hated the guy already. “–sliding between my legs, and touching me.”

“Do not speak further,” there was an edge of alarm in his voice. A bit of a broken end to it.

“Oh but Father I must,” you said. “If I don’t I’m afraid I’ll act upon my feelings in the same way I did today while thinking of him.”

“You…” he hesitated. “You touched yourself… Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes,” you replied with a frown, almost a wince, all of it an act, of course.

“Pray Our Father 10 times and–”

“No! Allow me to relate my story, Father,” he tried to stop you. “I must, I must, or then I might go to him and offer myself in a terrible, ungodly manner and then I won’t ever be deserving of the church ever again.”

Frankly, you didn’t even know how you’d gotten so inspired, but Remus relented, nodding and when he realised you hadn’t heard, he bit his cheek and said. “Go on then.”

You sighed, that was a real sigh, you weren’t sure you’d get this far. “I had a dream of him, Father. He was handsome as ever, and he looked at me, with such kind eyes, with such loving eyes, that when he leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t stop him.”

Remus was already praying for himself. He did not want to imagine you in your bed, your hair sprawled over the pillow and your mind away in a dream, kissing another man.

“I didn’t stop him when he pinned me against the wall, and I didn’t stop him when his hand dug under my shirt. I said nothing when it travelled to my breast, and I all but moaned when he pinched my nipple.”

“That is enough, I get the idea.”

“But that’s not the whole dream,” you protested, you sounded mortified. How could he stop your repentance for his own misguided thoughts? A man of God wasn’t supposed to harbour this kind of feelings for a fellow human, he was not meant to like you so much, and his pants were not meant to be as uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to go onto the details–”

“But Father, I must repent for all of my sins.”

Remus sighed, “Go on then.”

“And then when he reached down, oh Remus, I spread my legs for him rather than shut them close…” you didn’t say a thing. You could hear his breathing had gotten a lot more ragged. “He slid this hand through my knickers and touched me, that place that should only be touched by your husband. And… it felt good. I moaned his name until my voice went hoarse in the dream. I saw him pump himself and woke up as he rubbed his cock onto my folds.”

There was a sigh of relief when he thought the story was over. “It is good that you repent–”

“The worst part is yet to come.” You said, and you breathed. “When I awoke, I felt a wetness between my legs. My underwear was moist and the stickiness had rubbed onto my legs. I know I shouldn’t have done it, Remus, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. I wanted to know if it would feel as good as in the dream.”

“Child.”

“I reached down and repeated the actions the man had done to me. My fingers weren’t as strong or secure, but I found a spot that felt incredible, and I kept touching it, rubbing it, circling around it.”

Remus’ boner was straining against his pants in an almost painful way. He wanted to let go, he wanted to set him free and chase his own pleasure at your words. At how he pictured you in your bed, sweaty and sighing as you touched yourself. You were so beautiful, he found innocence even in the way you sinned.

“And then there was bliss, I thought I was dеad and had gone to heaven, but I came back, vision cloudy and disoriented. My bedsheets were sticky with my juices and I had to change them. I’ve been in a permanent state of shame ever since then.”

“Let us pray for your forgiveness,” Remus said. And my own, he thought. Now not only your sheets had been stained, but so had his pants, just from hearing you. You would have relished on the knowledge if you’d had it.

“Thank you, Father,” you said as you stood.

“Pray tell me child, whoever is this man that has you in such an altered state of mind?”

Got him! you thought as you turned your gaze to the confessionary. And almost in a whisper, you murmured. “Well, it’s you, Remus.”

ACT IV: Thou shall not commit adultery

Remus couldn’t stop thinking of you since that day. He’d get boners with the mere thought of you, with the idea of you going back to his confessionary and telling him all the lewd things you had done while thinking of him again.

He thought of you in the shower, and he thought of you in bed, and he thought of you while praying to try and take his mind away from you as well. He knew he was in deep trouble and he had no one he could talk to about his problem.

He had avoided touching himself, but it was hard and it was painful to ignore the throbbing sometimes, and he had to give in. Gently brushing his hand on top of his trousers until either it subdued or he came, completely forgetting who he was and thinking only of your hot lips in his and your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you in the exact same way he’d had you in your dream. A dream that had now become as much his as it had been yours.

The next Wednesday he was nervous. Bouncing his leg while he had breakfast and playing with his nails while he read the verse he’d have to give that day. His breath was stuck in his throat as he started to preach and he waited. And waited as he spoke and looked at the door and then back at the bible held between his hands and then back at the door.

You didn’t go to church that day.

Naturally, he was mortified. Thinking he had done something wrong, thinking he had scared you and thinking he’d pushed you away somehow. Thinking you were too scared to see him again after those lewd dreams, thinking –God forbid- you had chosen a different church to attend.

So when the next Wednesday you showed up with a small skirt (the smallest you had ever gone to church with) and a simple preppy-looking sweater he couldn’t help but be both relieved and terrified, all at the same time. You had tinted your lips red, not enough for it to be lipstick, but enough for them to look raw and bitten, and while your hair was perfectly put together, and your makeup right in place, there was something about you that screamed danger.

You sat right in the very first row. There were like 5 other people in the massive church that day. Someone sitting in the middle. A couple of old people in the back and a few others scattered around. No one young, and no one near the front either.

Oh, what a terrible thing it was that you were about to do.

Remus was quick to dismiss his deacons, asking them to go fetch something while he preached mass and they gave him a courteous nod while he started talking. As per usual, you listened attentively, paying close attention to the things he said, and despite yourself, often finding the things that you disagreed with. You realized he could barely take his eyes off you, and you slowly, spread your legs. Only a little, only enough to get his attention. You saw the way he licked his lips, and went back to talking. And you smiled. You pulled your ass back and opened yourself a little wider before crossing one leg over the other. You accommodated your skirt with your hand, slow and steady. Pulling your skirt up to show more skin before pulling it down and settling it in place, but only after he’d noticed, and seen as much of skin as possible, all the while, pretending to be doing it all innocently. Like you hadn’t worn that small skirt on purpose and like you hadn’t taken off your knickers and placed them in your bag in that public loo before walking inside the church.

When the mass ended, you saw Remus disappear into the confessionary. Onto the confession side. You saw him look around and then get inside, nervous as if scared to be seen. Probably trying to run away from you. When you made sure that there was no one left, you walked inside the other side. He was hunched, elbows leaning on his knees and head hidden between his hands. You thought you had gone too far since he looked like he had been crying, but you quickly realised he had been praying instead.

Sure, he’d have complicated thoughts, but your plan was meant to be fun for the two of you, and you wanted him to enjoy being corrupted as much as you enjoyed corrupting him.

“Remus,” you said tentatively. “Are you okay?”

He gasped and turned to the small division, he couldn’t see you, but you could see him perfectly. “It’s you.”

Rather than replying you cocked your head to the side. “Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess,” you joked. He gave you a stern look from the other side, a reproaching sort of look as if he wanted to tell you how terrible it was for you to impersonate a Priest, but he didn’t speak. “Or should I speak of mine first?”

“Please don’t.”

“Then sing, little bird.”

Remus huffed. “I’ve been thinking about a woman, non-stop.”

“A church woman?”

“I’m not sure if she really is a church woman anymore.”

“A devil?”

“No.”

You smiled, “Then, what’s so wrong about thinking of her?”

“I’m no ordinary man. It’s against my beliefs.”

“To think of a woman is against your beliefs?”

“To think of her in the way I’ve been thinking of her.”

“Which is?”

“As terrible as your dream, my darling.”

You smirked at that, biting your lip so hard you might have drawn bIood if you hadn’t stopped to say something else. “So you’ve been thinking of kissing me?”

“Yes.”

“Of touching me?”

“Yes,” he said, strained.

“Of fucking me?”

Silence.

“Have you thought of the sounds I would make, of the sighs and moans and groans?”

He closed his eyes, a deep frown etched on his features. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I used your confession to fuel my imaginations, to satisfy my carnal desires to–”

“That’s okay.”

“It is not!” he responded, distressed.

“Remus,” you said simply. “I wanted you to think of me,” you admitted. “I wanted you to think of me while you touched yourself the same way I thought of you while I did it. The same way I’ve been thinking of you while doing it, in fact.”

His head snapped your way, he seemed mortified, but you could also see one of his hands being brought down, adjusting his pants.

“Do you want me to tell you how I do it?”

“No,” he lied.

“Are you sure? I won’t ask again.”

He looked to the side, red from shame. He bit his lip. “Tell me.”

You smiled, “I lay in bed, and then these images come to my mind, I think of you, of your hands. They’re touching me, they’re everywhere. I don’t know where you ended and I start and I love every bit of it. It’s my hands that travel down my thighs but I think of them as yours. It is my fingers that slide in between my folds but I believe they’re yours.”

“Fucking hell,” he said, his grip on the wooden latch, grip tightening until his knuckles turned white. You peered through the blinds and realised the tent in his pants.

“Remus,” you said quietly. He turned to the wooden division, gaze strained, eyes filled with guilt, he was looking for you, but he couldn’t see past the squares and the small, shadow of you that got through. “Touch yourself.”

It was soft, the way you said it. Soft like a suggestion more than a command, but neither of you doubted it was the latter. And as if it had been a command from God himself, he listened and did what told. He patted himself over his black pants and hissed at the strain he’d been on. It was almost painful, how constricted and trapped his cock had been.

“Soft,” you said then, watching, resisting your own temptation to dig your hand under your skirt. “Be kind to yourself, Remus, you deserve it.”

He listened, and continued to rub himself, passing his hand back and forth and allowing it to help with the strain. “Te” –he stuttered– “tell me how you feel.”

“The inner side of my legs is soft, incredibly so,” you said. “I get chills when I run my hands close to my core.”

“It’s wet,” you said then. You had dug your hand under your skirt now. “Really wet.”

He could hear your breaths getting sharper, he assumed you were also touching yourself on the other side and he could barely think properly, barely command his hand to do what it needed to do to help himself.

“That looks painful,” you said as you saw him continue to rub himself over his trousers. “Take yourself out.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Touch yourself with your bare hand, Remus.”

He seemed like he would protest, so you decided to give him some encouragement. You placed your finger between your folds and brushed over your clit, emitting a soft moan, “Please.”

Just like before, Remus followed your command, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his boxers down enough so he could pull himself out. You smiled. “So beautiful, aren’t you?” you praised from the other side. He was long, thick and standing proud. He was hesitant at first, but he eventually placed his hand around himself. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’d forgotten how good it feels.”

Of course, he had been a teenager once, of course, he had touched himself while feeling terrible for doing so and having grown up in a Christian household.

“Remus?”

“Yeah?” he asked, as he pumped. Slow and steady, as if he didn’t want to go too fast and show you how easy it was for him to cum at the thought of you.

“You’re making me insanely wet, I might have ruined your comfy little chair here.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“No, I’m being a good little lamb that tells no lies,” you said in response. “Ah… fuck.”

“What was that?”

“Just thinking of how incredible your hand would feel if it were doing what mine is?”

“Which is?”

“Shhh…” you said. He stopped moving. “You hear that?” you asked. It was a lewd wet sound. “It’s my finger, coming in and out of myself.”

Remus moaned your name and bit his lips. He came in his hand before he had time to really visualize you. “Ugh,” he said as he looked at the mess he’d made all over his hands, some of it also on his pants.

You took a handkerchief from your bag and passed it over your legs, collecting some of the sticky stuff between your folds and then you passed it through the small, opened section. Crossing your hand, the one with still glistening fingers over.

You knew he’d noticed the second his eyes opened wide. “So you clean yourself, I used it for myself too.” He bit his lip and carefully took it from your hands, and cleaned your fingers with it as if he tried to wash his sin by cleaning your equally sinful fingers. But he didn’t bring his cum covered hand even close to it. Let alone his cock. “What? You think it’s gross?”

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he said as he brought it close to his nose and sniffed, stifling a moan with the fabric. Now you were the speechless one. “Do you have a napkin?”

You somehow managed to pull a napkin from your bag and handed it over to him through the same place. He used that to clean himself and placed it neatly folded in one of his pockets.

“Can I keep this?” he asked as he held the handkerchief between two fingers.

“Yes,” you almost stuttered. You had never seen a man do something as ridiculous –and hot– as what he’d done.

“Will you disappear again, angel?”

“Angel?” you asked with a smirk, “I would think you’d see me as something else, a devil, perhaps.”

“Impossible, a devil wouldn’t be able to show me heaven like you did today.”

Speecheless, again. This man really could bring you to your knees. “Do you even want to see me again?”

“More than anything on this earth.”

“Fine then, I’ll come to confess tomorrow, how does that sound?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

ACT V: Thou shall honour your Mother and Father

After the heat of the moment, Remus felt the sudden urge to repent, to throw away the handkerchief and to pray in bed until his knees were raw from how much he’d been kneeling. And he tried, but even as he prayed he knew how pointless it was. The act of repenting, of praying and being forgiven for your sins, only worked if you actually felt regret over what you’d done.

But Remus was far from feeling remorseful. He had repented a great many things throughout his life. Not trusting his innocent best friend and blaming him for things that had happened, not doing more for the world when he had the chance and smaller, pesky things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelash about but that he constantly put himself down for.

But having done what he did on the confessionary, hearing your small moans and the lewd sounds that you’d made for him, telling him what to do and how to do it, that he didn’t regret. On the other hand, he wanted to do it again. You had taken him to heaven and he was eager to see it again. And he did it, repeated the same actions, it was cold and dark and there was no one even close to his room when he pulled that handkerchief out and placed it on his face. Smelling the scent of you while he pulled himself out of his pants and jerked himself for the second time that day. He came with the thought of you at the confessionary and your name muffled by the handkerchief that he refused to move from his mouth. By the end, he was sore and delicate and he felt like he had pushed himself too hard, but he found the most peaceful sleep afterwards.

When he woke up again, he was still covered in his own cum and he had to wash the sheets of his bed in his sink before anyone noticed what he had done. The shame he felt diluting as the sun rose, and he imagined you coming back to the church. He pictured you in that small skirt you’d worn yesterday, or in the simple dress you’d taken the first time that you went to hear his mass. But he was not expecting to see you walk in the clothes you’d worn.

A white dress, long enough to reach mid-thigh, and made of soft sheer fabric layered one on top of another. He might have been imagining things but he would have sworn he could see your nipples perk through the thin fabric when you turned to him, a small, innocent smile on your face as you threw him a look and walked inside the confessionary. An angel, you really were an angel.

“Pretty thing, you’ve come back,” he said as he too walked in, this time taking the side that belonged to him, he loved that he could see you.

“I promised, Remus.”

“I know, angel. But I’m always scared I’ve dreamed you up, that you’re not real and that I was just imagining you all along.”

You smirked and pushed your hand through the small hole connecting the two of you, “I’m very real, Remus, you can touch me.”

He did, he placed his hand on top of yours and you heard a sigh of relief when his thumbs pressed onto your hand. He was careful and kind, passing his fingers over your knuckles and under your palm in a soft, gentle manner that was sending shivers down your spine. This poor man was breaking down for you, and yet he was the gentlest of them all.

“You really are,” he breathed. He didn’t know if he should be happy that you were real, or horrified by the things he’d done for you, of the things he’d do. His faith? He might have been willing to throw it all away for another chance to see you, for another chance to feel your hands, for your lips, your kisses. How could he believe in a God that had given him nothing, when you were here, willing to give him everything?

“Yesterday I saw it all and you barely got to hear me, I thought of showing you my sins rather than describing them to you today, is that okay, Father?” That last bit was a taunt, in the same way you’d been taunting him since the very beginning.

“Yes,” there was no hesitance, if anything, you would have only described the waver in his voice as excitement.

You couldn’t hold back the smirk that pulled from your lips, Remus’ breath hitched as you accommodated yourself in the chair. Leaning back and spreading your legs for him, letting the soft fabric of your dress fall in between your tights and slowly show the outline of your legs.

“When was the last time you saw a woman naked?”

“In real life? Never.”

Your head snapped to him, although all you could see was the outline of a shadow through the dark-edged wood, “Never?!? Pictures?”

“When I was around 15.” He admitted. “My best friend Peter once took a few magazines to school after the break. He said his father had gotten them for him on his 14th birthday and that he told them to take them back before his mother noticed. I barely remember them.”

“Did you jack off to them?”

“I stole a page,” he admitted with a bitter laugh. “It was this girl with a forest-green, transparent robe. I took her home with me, my father found it and he was enraged. He called me a monster and drove me straight into church.”

“The priest there took a look at the image, and made me kneel down on the rocky floor and pray for forgiveness. I don’t know if he forgot, or if he did it on purpose, but he said not to stand until he came back and he didn’t come back until 7 hours later.”

“My god,” you said. Remus didn’t even think of reprimanding you for taking his name in vain. “That must have been awful. Your parents were terrible.”

Remus shrugged, “It’s what I was used to,” he added when he remembered you couldn’t actually see him, although you could feel his hands tense at the thought.

“That means, since then… you’ve never even–?”

“No,” he admitted softly. “I guess it’s easier not to do something when you don’t know how it feels. Although my best friend was always eager to tell me how good it was.”

“Worry not, you won’t have to use your imagination anymore,” you said as you pulled your hand back into your area and moved it to the thin strap of the dress, slowly sliding it down, he could barely see the valley of your breast, and yet he felt himself start to tense, his cheeks heat and bIood rushing south.

“You don’t have to–”

“But I want to,” you said, turning your gaze from your bare shoulder and towards him, he could see the mirth shining in your eyes, he could see the mischievousness and the licentiousness reflected on your pupils. You pulled the other strap down and then moved both of your hands to the fabric at the top of your breasts, pulling it down and letting them in full view.

Remus breathed sharply when he finally saw them. Of course, he knew what they looked like, the girls in Peter’s magazine had shown him. James had described them, but that was nothing compared to seeing them in real life, it was nothing compared to seeing yours in real life.

You smiled at the little to no sound he was making from the other side. You leaned your back on the stunningly carved wooden wall of the confessionary and squared your shoulders for him. “They look like this for you,” you said as you slid your hand over one of your nipples. “They turned hard the minute I spotted you at the door.”

Silence, nothing more than a ragged breath.

“Cat got your tongue?” You teased.

“I had never seen a prettier thing in my life,” he said. “Except for your angelic face, that is.”

You laughed in return, a sweet and soft laugh that he would have done anything to hear again. “You’re good at this for someone who’s never done it.”

“Good at what?”

“At making a woman blush.” You said. “But I’m just as good,” you added as you pulled one of your legs up on the small seat, your dress fell over and bunched up covering your core, but Remus barely even cared, he was immersed in the plushness of your thigh, imagining how it would feel wrapped around his waist.

You heard him swallow thickly.

“In my dream,” you started, “In my dream, we weren’t here, we were hiding somewhere in the church.” Your breath had slowed down, one of your hands was playing with your thigh, the other one on your breast. You didn’t usually pay much attention to them, but it was that you knew his eyes were on you, that touching them, knowing how it must have made him feel, was turning you on even more than before. “You were kissing me –ah– you were touching me.”

Remus was, by now, having to adjust his extremely uncomfortable pants.

“How?” he asked, almost in a whisper. “Show me how I was touching you.”

You couldn’t even hold back the smile from your face. “You traced your fingers over my thigh,” you placed your hand on your bare knee, and then started to move it downwards, towards yourself. “You were kissing me here,” you added as you leaned your neck to the side for him to see better. And then… you touched me here.” Your hand was already in your core. You moved the ruffles of the dress to the side, allowing him to see, to see all of you. You heard a small gasp, when he noticed you had worn no knickers.

“You slid your hands on my slit,” you said and followed your own instructions, “Soft and gentle, like you are when you’re preaching. In the same way that you moved your delicate slender fingers over the bible,” you breathed, a little more ragged now. “You slid one of your fingers in between my folds, and looked for my clit. You found it almost instantly, and you rolled your finger over it gently, you loved my whimpers.”

“I do,” he agreed. “I imagined them while touching myself last night. Those wet little sounds you make when you–”

“Ah,” you breathed as you dug your fingers inside yourself, your walls tightening around it involuntarily. “Like this?” you asked and smiled, biting your lip before you did it again. You brought the hand on your breast downwards and leaned back a little so you could spread your legs even further. Remus’ mouth watered, he wondered how wrong would it be to taste you?

To bury his head in your legs and lick all of the wetness that coated your fingers, to be so close that the smell of you got everywhere, that he wouldn’t need the handkerchief to feel you close. You continued to touch yourself. Breathing heavily, sighting and moaning softly, he wondered what that would feel if it were directly whispered into his ear.

You were so lost in yourself for those first few minutes, so wrapped in the feeling that you hadn’t realized the lack of beautiful moans from his side.

“Remus–” you said breathily, “Why aren’t you touching yourself?”

“Yesterday at night I– I did it again… a couple of times. I’m, it’s a little painful,” he admitted shamefully, but your eyes shone with lust so intense at his words that he continued talking. “It was your little handkerchief’s fault. I was going to wash it, but I got its scent and it made me feral.”

“Aha?” you asked, as you continued to touch yourself.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Shut my door and laid on my bed with it over my nose.”

You hummed contentedly, half a moan, half a hum.

“I was so hard it was ridiculous. I had barely even smelled you. I hadn’t even gone through the images of that wonderful dream of yours.”

You sighted in bliss, breath ragged as you slid your finger out of yourself and turned to him with a smile.

“I have an idea,” you said and then let out a breathy laugh.

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post. Comments are my life fuel, so send them out if you have any. I've also got a Kofi if you're interested.

TAGLIST: @msblacklupin @lupinslvt @nperoconelcositoarriba @peteslovr @kissmeunicornbaobei

Part 2 is out now!

Read more Marauders Fiction

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dawnisevening · 10 months ago

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★ Ellie x Camgirl!reader

Part 2.

Taglist: @cattjull

Ellie couldn’t believe it. She genuinely couldn’t believe it but here she was staring at the email. You had did a giveaway for a free show a while back, highest bidder won. Of course Ellie put in money, I mean how could she pass up a chance like that? But she didn’t expect to win. But here she was staring at the email sent to her from you. It was basically explaining how she won and your discord below it with a time- 7:15. Ellie was so excited.. She thought it was a little embarrassing she had a crush on someone she had never even met, but you were simply beautiful she couldn’t help but be attracted. Ellie sighed and got out of bed, she went the whole day just thinking about what tonight would be like. She couldn’t stop looking at the clock when she was at work, it was like it was taunting her. When it hit 6:40 she rushed home. She changed into a tank top and shorts and hurried to her computer and loaded up discord.. it was 7:08. She was nervously wondering if she should go ahead and send the request.. but she contemplated on it till 7:10. She sent eh request..

You were preparing, you had it randomly chose so you weren’t sure who exactly you were gonna be on call with. You sighed as you changed into a lazy lingerie set and put on some lotion. Your head snapped up when you heard a notification.. you re-read the message over and over. No way it was them…. It was the same username as the person who sent you all those donations and money, and secretly your favorite chatter. You couldn’t believe it.. you gulped and hurries to finish to get ready, when you were done it was 7:14. You had accepted the request. You nervously waited.. it felt like forever until 7:15 finally hit and you hurried and clicked the call button.

Ellie was nervously fiddling with her keys until the sound of an incoming call made her jump.. you were calling her. You were actually calling her! She hurried and excepted. She made sure her mic and camera was off. She gasped when she saw you on the screen. Taking in your curves and your pretty plush body. It felt so much more intimate when it was only you two. Ellie couldn’t help but slowly untie her drawstrings.

You gulped, a little disappointed to see the camera off but you pushed it aside. You shyly grabbed a vibrator and got to work. Shyly tracing it over yourself through the panties. You couldn’t help but think of what she was thinking..

Ellie groaned at the sight taking in your form. She slipped her hand in her shorts slowly touching and teasing herself. She bit her lip when you slid your panties off. She groaned at the sight. She loved it. She was so hungry for you. When you started to reach and finger yourself while letting the toy vibrate your swollen clit. Ellie whined and slipped fingers in herself as-well. She was moaning. Her head reeled at the sound of your pretty moans and whimpers. She let her hand hurry and grip the first thing she could get her hands on when she hit her sweet spot. She heard you gasp which caught her attention. She looked up realized she accidentally turned her camera on. She flushed in embarrassment and was quick to turn it off.

You lazily played with yourself, but when you saw the camera turned on you gasped. She looked beautiful. Shorts slid down her thighs and pleasuring herself. You thought she was beautiful. When you saw her freak out and turn it off you groaned

Ellie was so embarrassed. She was debating ending the call when she heard your voice, “Turn it back on..”. Ellie felt her heart pound, she shyly went and turned her camera on, revealing her wrecked self to you. And god it was a sight. Ellie accidentally hit her sweet spot and her mind reeled in pleasure. Your voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Turn on your mic.. I wanna hear you.” Ellie bit back a moan at your wrecked voice talking to her. When she turned on her mic she let out an embarrassed whimper. She felt so revealed and vulnerable all on display like this.

You groaned at the sight. And when her mic turned on and your could hear her desperate whines and needy cries it made your heart beat faster. You started back up on working on yourself, rubbing the vibrator and teasing yourself. You watched Ellie’s face, she eyed your like prey. Like a hungry hawk. You couldn’t help but groan. She eyed you like a meal. You went faster, it felt so good. But it felt even better when you started to hear Ellie’s moans and cries. You started to whimper out aswell.

Ellie just couldn’t help herself. She looked at the beautiful sight and practically bounced on her own fingers, letting out unfiltered moans. Eventually through her moans she said “Ellie..” which left you feeling a little confused you furrowed your brows, until she spoke again.. “say my name, please.. Nhh..”. She sounded so desperate you couldn’t help but moan and go through with her request. Crying out “Ellie” Everytime your fingers brushed your sweet spot. It drove Ellie wild. She stared like a hungry animal, and humped her fingers like a cat in heat. She stared until she was whining and spilling release all over her own fingers.. You gasped and came at the sight. It was a lot. Ellie panted. She couldn’t believe she just did that! She was about to shyly hang up the call until you said..

“We should collab..”

PART THREE? 😁

#ellie smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #cam grl

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batbetbitbotbut · 13 days ago

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hi!!! ive been following you for your weaving for a little while now, and the stuff you make is absolutely amazing!!

im curious if youd ever post some of your lifting plans and drafts? id be so interested in seeing them and possibly trying some of the stuff you do out myself, so if you do have it recorded anywhere itd be so awesome to see B:•∆

Hi!!!!!! So, I would be absolutely thrilled to share drafts for anything original I make, but so far I've worked almost entirely from books. I'm always happy to say where something is from and walk you through any adaptations I've made or how a structure works and I'd probably send drafts privately if there is a specific one you ask about, but I feel a bit weird about just posting all of them publicly. Alternately, some of these are kind of "simple" or "universal" and may be in several books and I just worked them out in my own scribbly notebook, so there isn't really any draft I can share.

^ this is 2 block doubleweave, with a different tie-up for each piece. 8/2 cotton at 20epi (per layer, so 40epi in the reed) which was a bit too close. There's only one way to make it, it's not really a draft that can someone can lay claim to privately. Thread a straight draw, the wide block on shafts 1 to 4 (32 threads) and the narrow block on shafts 5 to 8 (16 threads), even shafts in one colour and odd shafts in the other. Slowly carefully derive the lift liftplan yourself according to which layers you want up and down at each point; I can share a photo of my notes but I'm not sure how useful they would be. It's in lots of books too - anything explaining doubleweave for 8 shaft looms will have it.

^ these are twills from the twill gamp section of Strickler's A Handweaver's Book of 8 Shaft Patterns absolutely phenomenal resource. 8/2 cotton at 24epi which is about right.

^ overshot also from Strickler, drafts 471-474. Tabby 16/2 cotton at 24epi, pattern weft 8/2 cotton (I also did some pieces with pattern weft 15/2 wool).

^ the first one is a copy, thread for thread, of ZZZZZ from 8 Shafts: Beyond The Beginning published by the Complex Weavers Guild. The second one is a narrower adaptation of it without reversals. Advancing wall of Troy twill, 2/15 wool, I think it was 24epi.

The third one is a near copy of the threading in For My Brother from the same book. I changed where the pattern was centred and I tried out many different treadlings as I went, just to see what happened. Interleaved twill - design a twill threading, then repeat it 3 more times starting 2 shafts over and in a different colour each time, so the final threading always goes "black grey white purple black grey white purple..." on {shafts 1, 3, 5, 7} and {shafts 2, 4, 6, 8} every time but it starts on different ones of those shafts. Warp 8/2 cotton boucle at 36epi, weft 33/2 60% cotton 40% linen.

^ deflected doubleweave! 15/2 wool at 20epi which was about right. I adapted a draft from Briand's The Art of Weaving by making all the blocks 4 ends wide instead of the 2, 4, or 6 ends they were in the book. Treadling is just made up on the fly (within the block structure), sometimes trying to make specific shapes and sometimes generating a random sequence on a computer. But again there's only really one way to make this on 8 shafts, it may turn up in several books.

Stay tuned for my bookshelf, I've hit the image limit...

#jeremy weaves #weaving

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deldaydreams · 1 year ago

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Mafia Au/Good luck while running away from mafia part 4

Intro, part 0.5 , part 1 , part 2 , part 3 , part 5 , part 6

Tags: @hrhqueenfox , @hasty-desert , @oceanside-pixie , @lianreine , @h3apm3ch4n151m , @cecilebutcher , @ayachansan , @roseapov , @randomlyappearingartist , @serenity-loves-red , @wonderlandcrown , @nightw-izhu , @moonlight-nightwing , @lorkai , @lucid-stories , @morokumi

Notes: little bit rushed I guess? Well I am working on three other aus at the moment so. I hope you like it.

Warning: yandere stuff, gn reader, English is not my first language…

4 years ago

“Tyranttt!” You moaned.

“I haven't eaten a bite or drank a sip of water for hours. Now you're giving me an exam! “This is not a test, it is torture!” You shouted to the cameras on the wall.

As usual, you were training with Crewel sensei all day long. And it couldn't be said that he was a very kind teacher. He was extra harsh on you, especially compared to the other people he trained.

However, he had especially gotten things out of hand. Today was one of your least favorite days. Surprise exam day. Surprise exams: as the name suggests, you would never know the content and time of the exam. Crewel would put you to the test suddenly, without you even noticing. You especially hated the hands-on ones.

You couldn't eat properly yesterday. You had been training under Crewel Sensei all day. When you returned home, you fell asleep straight away from exhaustion. When you woke up, you found yourself handcuffed in a room. While I was sleepily trying to comprehend what was happening, Crewel Sensei's voice echoed into the room from the ceiling speaker.

“My dear little puppy, guess what time? Correct answer: Surprise exam! Your mission is to get out of the handcuffs and get out of this building within two hours. Let me tell you from the beginning, do not complain, the exam was prepared according to the topics we covered. Then I wish you good luck. Your time has begun.”

“Two hours and 6 minutes nch nch. You need to work harder. 8 minutes to get out of the handcuffs, 43 minutes to open all the locked doors, 40 minutes to pass the obstacles... we better tighten up your training."

You just glared at Divus as he seriously analyzed the exam. You're too hungry to bother with that damn practical exam. You just focused on eating your salad.

“I mean, what was slowing you down? Should we increase the number of exams?

“Sensei, it’s just six minutes, I was tired, unprepared-“

“The aim is to prepare you for all kinds of situations.” Crewel interrupted.You grimaced. You weren't in the mood to argue with him right now.

While Crewel was talking about your mistakes, there was a knock on the door. It was Sam.

“Sam-san!” Your eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of your savior. Whenever Crewel scolded you or increased your training hours, he would save you from Crewel like a savior angel.

“Excuse me to interrupt, but Boss wants the little imp.” said Sam.

“Huh, now? Why does he want Y/n?” Crewel asked with a grimace.

"Who knows. By the way, get it while you're at it.I brought the information you requested.”

He handed Crewel a package. Meanwhile, you escaped at the first opportunity you had and went to Crowley, the head of the mafia.

“Looks like Crewel gave you one of his wonderful exams again, hmm?” The masked man asked, as he poured a tea for you.

"Yes sir."

Dire Crowley is the head of one of the largest organizations in the Underworld and also your protector who took you in when you were ten years old. You had always wondered how such a goofy and slightly weird guy became the head of the mafia.

Once, when you asked Crewel sensei about this, he told you these words.“If you only knew what that man did… Anyway, just be careful with him. He is…the devil himself.”

“You've been with me for a long time, Y/n, and the time has finally come.”He handed you a file.

“Congratulations, you are now an official member of the mafia and here is your first target.”

You started examining the file.

“This man was a traitor we had been looking for a long time. He poses a great danger to the organization. I want you to get rid of him.”

———

Current time

You were on something soft. You opened your eyes slowly. You felt a pain in your shoulder.

“Jamil! Y/n woke up!”

You heard a joyful familiar voice. The owner of the voice hugged you with joy. Kalim. You tried to comprehend the events in a dazed manner.

That's right, Floyd shot you last and you fainted from blood loss while running with all your strength. And apparently Scarabia had caught you.

“Oh Y/n you really had me worried. If you only knew how scared I was when I saw you like that, shot and unconscious."

You didn't reply. You just stared blankly at Kalim.

“Yes Y/n you had us all so worried.” Jamil entered the room. He had a black agenda in his hand and was wearing a suit. Now if you look carefully, Kalim was also wearing a suit. The welds of weight on his wrists jingled as he turned to survey the room. Oh you were chained.

“Is it allowed to keep such things in the hotel room?” You said.

“Oh, I'm sorry, we brought the silver ones with us because we came here in a hurry, but don't worry, we have gold ones at home.” said Kalim innocently.

You loved Kalim, his sweet and pure nature prevented you from venting your anger on him. You gritted your teeth. You looked at Jamil.

“Kalim, you better go now, you need to greet our guests for the meeting. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." Jamil dragged the manager out by force.

“But Jamil-“

“Don't worry, nothing will happen. They are both injured and the whole hotel is full of guards.”

After Kalim left, a grin appeared on Jamil's face that you had never seen before. A familiar and yet disturbing grin.

“Congratulations, you are truly someone who lives up to the title of the boss's right-hand man. Sorry, his former right-hand man. You know Kalim was so panicked it was hard for me to calm him down. Especially when you suddenly disappeared he stopped working, coming to meetings…You owe me for this.”

You didn’t answer. You knew he was trying to provoke you.

“I wonder what would have happened if those documents had never arrived? Would the boss throw you aside? Would you be his heir after all the training you received?”

You tried to hold yourself back.

"Who knows." You replied.

A burst of laughter broke out from Jamil. He approached you.

“Oh, you are really tough. It's not easy to break you, but don't worry, we have plenty of time. The doctor will be coming soon to change your bandages, so don't be a hassle. I notified room service for you to have breakfast.”

And he left the room.

You laughed. Oh apparently Crewel Sensei was right. Training would really come in handy.

Once you were free of the chains, you got into the bed and waited for the doctor.Indeed, as Jamil said, the doctor came about fifteen minutes later.You quietly waited for him to approach you on your bed.

“Excuse me, Y/n-san are you awake?”

You didn't reply. Just as the doctor was bending over to lift the blanket on you, you jumped on top of them and gagged them with one of the sheets before they could scream. You undressed the poor doctor while they were struggling in chains made for you.

“I'm sorry, but you know I have to run away. And my clothes are a little off for that.”

You were careful not to attract the suspicion of the guards as you left the room dressed as a doctor. You started walking away from there with normal steps.

Indeed, as Jamil said, there was protection everywhere. As you were about to get into the elevator, you noticed the guards talking on the phone, then they all hurriedly dispersed. Apparently room service had found the poor doctor.

You changed direction. You walked calmly but quickly and pulled the fire alarm. And as you wish, chaos broke out.

While people were screaming and running in panic, you mixed in with them. And you finally reached the exit.

When you left the hotel, you hailed a taxi with the money you got from the poor doctor.

“To the amusement park,” you said to the driver.

Then you called that number with the phone you got from the doctor.

“Hey it's me Y/n. It's time to pay me back. Be at the amusement park. Don't forget to bring a vehicle and weapon with you. You better be on time, Snow White."

“Looks like your training has paid off, Crewel.”The masked man said in a sarcastic tone.

“It's truly incredible, but it's a shame that such a person is a traitor.” said Trein as he caressed Lucius.

“Well, talent is in their blood, after all, he was like that too when he was young.” said Vargas.

“I have work to do. With your permission,” Crewel stood up sharply.

“Oh Crewel, don't be angry-“ but before Crowley could finish his sentence, Crewel spoke angrily.

“You hate it the most when we talk about him. Didn't you declare him a traitor to take over, and completely erased Ramshackle from the mafia? And now you're sacrificing them for your executives."

Crowley smiled under his mask.

“Crewel Crewel, are you really going to play innocent? You were the one who gave them those documents. If they didn't know anything, maybe we would still be living in peace. But no problem. After this game, we will return to our peaceful life again."

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #twst #yandere kalim al asim #kalim al asim #twst kalim #twisted wonderland kalim #jamil viper #twst jamil #twisted wonderland jamil #yandere jamil viper #yandere jamil x reader #twisted wonderland mafia au

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agentpeggycartering · 2 months ago

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Hello friends! Yesterday I said that when I hit 10,000 words in my WIP I would post a snippet from Nora Verse. The overwhelming majority of votes were for the first (still unedited) scene.

And so, without further ado, here we go.

The moment Buck woke up he knew something was off. It had to be, because there was no other reason for him to be up at, he blearily glanced at the alarm clock on Tommy's nightstand and saw 2:17 blinking back at him, 2:17 in the morning. He took stock of his body, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was that had woken him up, just that he was vaguely uncomfortable, and his back kind of hurt. He settled back into the covers, thinking maybe he could get back to sleep, when he felt it. The pain that he woken him up. It was gone again by the time he was thinking of waking Tommy up, but he felt it. He rearranged himself to the best of his ability without waking Tommy so that he was sitting up and waited to see if he felt it again. He did, and it felt a bit more intense than it had been before. He sighed to himself and got out of bed. Paced around the room a bit. No change in the discomfort. Went down the hall and tried to go to the bathroom. No change. Climbed back into the bed, rearranging the pillows again.

When he felt it for a third time he reached over to shake Tommy's shoulder. "Tommy. Tommy, wake up."

"Hmm wazzit?" Tommy said, squinting up at Buck with one eye, rubbing sleepily at the other.

"I think we need to go to the hospital. I- I think it's my appendix." Buck said

That woke Tommy up. "The hospital? Are you sure?"

"I woke up almost 40 minutes ago and the pain has only gotten worse. Nothing I do relieves it." Buck says, glancing at the clock and seeing that it's closer to 3AM than it was when he woke up.

"Okay, okay. You just- stay there, I'll go start the car." Tommy says, pressing a kiss to the side of Buck's head and extracting himself from the blankets and rolling out of bed. He grabs his jeans from the day before from where he'd left them in a pile on their bedroom floor, making quick work of pulling them up and getting them buttoned. It's but a moments work from him to swap the shirt he was sleeping in for a new one from their dresser. He's out the door a moment later and Buck follows the sound of his steps down the hall and to the front door, the sound of the lock unlocking and the jangle of keys as Tommy picks up the keys to his truck from the key bowl. Buck is distracted from any further listening as he's overcome by another wave of pain.

Tommy comes back into the bedroom with Buck's sneakers in his hand and a hoodie draped over his arm. He comes over to Buck, presses a kiss to his forehead and leaves the shoes at his feet and the hoodie on the bed next to him before he goes over to their dresser, pulling out a tshirt, sweats, and some socks.

"Let's get you into something comfy, okay Evan?" Tommy says, helping Buck out of the T-shirt he'd worn to bed, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder before helping him pull the new shirt and the hoodie on, tenderly brushing the hair back from his forehead after he puts the hood down. Then Tommy turns his attention to the sweatpants and socks, picking Buck's bad leg up, gently pulling the first sock up and pressing a kiss to his knee before repeating the motion with the other leg, before carefully, gently pulling the sweatpants up, rubbing a comforting hand on his hip when he's done. "All set. Do you have everything you need?" Tommy asks Buck.

In response Buck reaches over to his nightstand and unplugs his phone and shoving it, charger and all, into the pocket of his hoodie . "My wallet is downstairs, right?"

"It is. I already grabbed it for you." Tommy says, patting his own pocket. He goes to retrieve his own phone from his side of the bed and then goes to help Buck up. "Come on, then, nice and easy." He says, helping Buck to slowly stand up, keeping an arm around his waist as they make their way down the hall and out of the house to Tommy's truck. Tommy helps Buck get buckled into his seat and then runs back to double check he locked the front door before he's popping into the drivers seat and pulling onto the road.

"Do you want to call anyone?" Tommy asks, only taking his eyes off the road a moment to look at Buck .

"No, it's the middle of the night, no need to panic everyone when they wouldn't even be able to visit if they admitted me right away. Maybe when we know what's going on, but not until then."

"Okay, you just rest now, okay?" Tommy says, reaching over to rub his hand soothingly up Buck's thigh for a moment. Buck hums in agreement and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes as a he does so. He's not sure how much he'll be able to rest, with the growing discomfort he's feeling, but he's going to give it his best shot.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy mpreg #pregnant evan buckley #my writing #my fic #cindy writes fic #nora verse

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selanaris · 16 days ago

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Lurks in Shadows

DP x DC Fic : (Pt1) Part 2 (Pt3) (Pt4)

TW: blood, cult summonings, sacrifices, missing peoples cases, canon character deaths & undeaths

Thirty Minutes to Midnight - Bristol Gotham - Batcave

Tim Drake stared at his newest murder board… One case. A piece missing, but what was it? He needed to restate the facts. Two high-end business owners went missing last week; they were out on lunch and never returned. Male and female respectively, new fashion business, based in North Gotham. Their lunch was downtown after an interview with the Gotham Gazette for their newest line of summer clothes. No camera evidence, no witnesses, and no struggle. The last sighting was them making a right turn on a public street, then nothing. They checked the camera where they should have been seen, but there was nothing there either.

Red chewed on his pen before the subtle steps of a little bird approached him. “Drake. Are you done staring at the investigation boards? You have taken all five of them and are wasting our resources.” The youngest, Robin stated while moving in front of Tim to look at the facts. “Wait… are you stealing my case? I have already told father that I have it under control.”

Tim placed the pen down and looked at Damian. “Your case? This is my case. Two missing elites are a pretty big thing. I have all the facts and just need the final piece… Hey!” Tim stood up to yell as Damian started to pin up his files on the board.

“Silence, Drake. If you noticed, I have the rest of the clues.” Robin spat while pinning up ten more missing persons. All done in the last month. The connection was there. Mostly middle to upper class, but at least one deviation with a missing teacher. Nothing connects the victims on gender, jobs, ideals, or class. But there was one fact. Everyone was going missing in North Gotham.

Tim stared at the board before Damian interrupted his thoughts to point at a picture. “Who is this?” Damian asked, with his thumb jammed to an image of a GCPD officer.

“Officer Thomas Kirk. He is the newest addition to the police force, the one specifically tasked with this case. I am supposed to be meeting him tonight for information he may have… Although I doubt it.” Tim paused to end it there, but Damian rolled his hand to urge Tim to continue. “Kirk went to investigate the next day, but his partner bailed on him last second so he went alone. He went MIA for 22 hours before calling into work in the middle of his shift the next day and said that he was sick. He returned to work two days later, demanding to talk to the commissioner, but that request did not go through. Of course, our Oracle found the request and arranged a meet-up for us…”

Damian nodded while looking, “This may be bigger than we think if we account for the number of homeless that go missing… how many of them end up on this web…” Damian stared at the board and then at the patrol map behind the case. This was an old map that held all the general districts they patrolled. Damian's eyes started to widen. “Here.”

“What? The Village?”

“Why do we not patrol this area? We patrol around, but no one ever enters it.”

“Well… There hasn’t been a crime there in almost 30 years… Lucky them, I guess?”

“No, I will patrol this area tonight while you have your rendezvous.”

Tim rolled his eyes and grabbed his mask on his way out. “Don’t get sacrificed,” he told his brother while he started up his cycle and left the cave.

Tim made his way to a chosen location in downtown Gotham at midnight. Somewhere, no one will check. Batburger. Honestly, Kirk chose the location for the meetup. This cop was strange, new to the force, from a rich family, and transferred to the only neighborhood with zero crime. For someone with a cushioned lifestyle, why bother putting himself in danger? It made no sense to the robin that forced his way into Batman’s life.

Robin parked his cycle in the alley behind Batburger at 11:40 PM. Batburger was always a good place for their colony. They never asked questions about vigilantes getting a burger, and they were open until two in the morning. It was a win-win business with how well they tipped the employees. Or in this case, an employee, singular.

The vigilante walked up to the register where a teen a little younger than himself stood. He wore a poorly fitted Batman costume that had the cowl leaning off the back of it. “Welcome to Batburger. How would you like your vengeance today?” The kid said in a sarcastic tone.

“I didn’t know they let teens work this late. Don’t you have school in the morning?” Red said with a smile to the kid’s obvious capitalistic suffering.

“I didn’t know they let teens fight crime. Don’t they have adults to do that?” The kid snapped back. Tim immediately decided he liked this kid. “So do you want food to not so I can go back to my phone.” He was very honest and made Tim chuckle.

“Ok, ok. Fair enough. I just need two Batburger meals, vengeance-sized. One with a fountain drink and another with a Daytime Lemonade. Make the Burgers Condiment King style.” He ordered the standard orders. The kid opened his mouth to ask a question, but Tim knew what it was and spoke before he could, “Don’t Jokerize the fries.”

The kid stared at him and sighed, “You know what, fair. That will be $26.56.”

“What?! It’s $19.48 at the Batburger in Crime Alley?” Red spoke up while pulling cash out of his bandolier.

“You’re not in Crime Alley, are you? This is Downtown, we need to keep up repair costs with every attack. I would take Crime Alley robberies over collateral damage any day.”

The vigilante chuckled and handed the kid $100. “Keep the change,” he said while grabbing his lemonade and empty cup. He turned around to pick a corner booth away from the counter. Then, he proceeded to wait.

Soon enough, the kid dropped off the two trays of food and mumbled, “Don’t destroy the store,” and he shuffled his feet to the counter.

Tim took his tray of food and looked up at the ringing of a bell. The target in question walks into the fast food joint. The man had buzzed blonde hair, a blue button-up, and a black jacket. A cop version of Constantine, if he was honest. Tom Kirk looked in all directions, briefly keeping a longer eye on the cashier before making his way to Tim. The entire time Tom was walking, the employee looked to be resisting the urge to vomit all over the counter. Tim was starting to second-guess eating the food if the employee was sick. Kirk sat down in the booth and pulled out his badge from his jacket, probably proof of ID. Tim grabbed the badge to pretend to confirm it, he already knew this was him. He looked back at the front to see Danny leaving through the back and a napkin note on the register that said, ‘ON BREAK! IF YOU NEED ME, DON’T!’

Red Robin smiled and looked back to Tom, who was already going through his tray of food. He looked at his empty cup and glanced at the fountain drinks on the other side of the lobby. He just set the cup down before grabbing a fry and smelling it. The cop finally placed it into his mouth when Tim decided to speak. “So, why meet here instead of the rooftops like every other police contact?”

The cop picks up a napkin to wipe nothing off of his mouth in a manner that Tim immediately identifies as him spitting out his food. He crumpled up the napkin and placed it to the side. “They are always watching the sky. They know about the bats and the birds, so they always watch up. But when they do, they never look down.”

“And who is this ‘they’ you speak of?” Tim asks while finishing off his meal, he did take note that the cop stopped eating and is only poking at his food.

Kirk hesitated and looked around again before sighing, “The kid’s gonna be mad, but he isn’t the adult here. The ‘they’ in this situation is the Geo Populus Cult. They function in North Gotham. Their purpose is to summon evil magic entities and destroy Gotham. My brother,” he said ‘brother’ with deep sarcasm, “doesn’t want you involved. I think you need to get involved soon. Or at least your little Justice Friends I know you have.” Kirk said and pulled out his phone to check it. He seemed dissatisfied with it and placed it face down. “The kid went investigating on his own, I told him not to this morning, but before I went to work, he was already gone. They switched bases after we discovered their previous base, and he wanted to find their new one by being bait.”

Tim’s eyes widened at the thought that not only was this cop and his alleged kid brother out there investigating a cult connected to missing people, but then his brother decided to be a vigilante and look for the new base himself as bait. “Why are you doing this? The moment you saw the magic, you should have passed it on to us, or at least the Commissioner.”

“I have to solve this. Simon won’t stop until he solves it, and… We have to… I have to lay this to rest. I… I have an obsession to clear the corruption in GCPD. Yeah, I know it’s dumb to try to change things from the inside, but I thought I could do what Commissioner Gorden does. And the kid is obsessed with clearing out this cult and any other dark magic from Gotham. I’m worried about him.” Tom sighed and pushed his tray away from him. His burger had holes all over the top from where he anxiously pulled at the bread. “He recently got this new book a week ago, and while looking into a case unrelated to the cult a few hours ago, they showed up and stole it from him. They will probably try another summoning tonight. So I want the bats and birds to help me out tonight. I find my brother, we clear another base, and you get to investigate the murdered victims.”

“Hold on, wait a minute. Murdered? There are two confirmed missing to this case, and ten possibly missing to the same group.” Tim interrupted while sitting up straight.

“Try 36 missing people in the last two years, all killed.” He said with a haunted look in his eyes.

“36! How do you know they were all killed?” He started to get more suspicious and moved his hands to his lap, closer to his utility belt.

“Because they captured me, my brother saved me, and we both escaped. That is how we know where their old base was.”

They took a moment of silence, staring at each other, waiting for the next move. The respite was broken when Tom’s phone rang with the default tone. He picked up the phone quickly, “Where are you?!... WHAT DO YOU MEAN, GHOST KING?!”

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zeciex · 1 month ago

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I'm taking a step back from writing.

I'm really sorry to those who have been excited for this new season--for the pregnancy reveal, for the rebuilding of Daenera/Aemond's relationship, for the smut, for dad!Aemond, for everything.

But I've recieved quite a few comments on AO3 accusing me of using AI in my writing. There was a reddit thread about it, and while it was vague, it was very, very obviously about A Vow of Blood. (They mentioned the length of the fic being almost 1 million words, and my posting schedule.)

And so, I write this to defend myself.

October 2, 2022, episode 7 of HOTD came out and I was immediately drawn by Aemond's character. I watched it when I was on home leave from the ship I was working on. I spent the next 4 weeks plotting the story and coming up with what I wanted to write when I got home. In those 2 weeks I was home again, I wrote and wrote, and then I went out for 4 weeks again.

My work contract ended in January 2023, and from then on, I wrote every single day. I wrote 130 or so pages before even figuring out HOW to write Daenera as a character and after the 130 pages, I decided to scrap most of it and start over.

I had nothing else to do and this was my hyperfixation. I wasn't sure if it was going to last so I kept the first 40+ chapters to myself as I wrote until the 21st of April 2023 where I posted the first chapter.

I then decided I could post twice a week for the simple reason that I had 40+ chapters locked and loaded. And before posting, I went through it, plotted it into my audio program so it read my writing aloud to me to listen for mistakes.

And in the meantime while posting, I of course wrote new chapters. Then, when the chapters finally ran out, the schedule changed to once every two weeks. I did everything I could to keep it--literally putting my life on hold just to ensure that I could post a new chapter every Friday.

This was my hobby, this was my hyperfixation (literally, I'm autistic), this was what I spent my time doing as I recovered from burnout due to grueling work as a sailor. I stressed about it. I had breakdowns over having to skip a Friday because I hadn't been able to write anything for a week.

The reason the story is as long as it is, is because I spent literal hours every day writing. Most days I can reach somewhere between 1500-2500k words. If I'm lucky, I can write more.

I am very aware that my writing is very, VERY detailed--too detailed, even. It's a flaw of mine. I want to set the scene, I want to get all the details that I have in my brain and I want you to see it. Is it too much? Yes. I'm also awfully aware of my progression as a writer, how earlier chapters are written and how the newest ones are written. I'm aware of how I've changed some of the style/started using way tooo many em-dashes, recklessly and hubris-ly (not a word, I'm aware). I know I throw them around. I know I could properly use the good ol' comma, but I like them.

As to the spelling mistakes and grammatical errors, I can say with 100% confidence that it's not some grand scheme that I've thought out to avoid AI detection--I literally didn't catch the mistake when I went through the chapter. I re-read one of my chapters yesterday and found a spelling mistake that I immediately corrected.

I've used grammarly for spell checking/grammar mistakes since English isn't my first language and Danish has a different structure that I often times keep through my English writing. That is the extent of it.

So, here I am, writing this. And I am beyond devastated--to the point of it making me physically ill. I have not used AI in the creation of A Vow of Blood. I have not used AI for plot-points. I have not used AI for character creations. I have not used AI for analyzes. I have not used AI for prompts. I have not used AI to write any chapters for me. I have not used AI in the development of this story.

I have used these sites for this story; Thesaurus ASOIAF Wiki Travel distances in ASOIAF This map A search of ice and fire This for badly translated High Valyrian This from the maker of High Valyrian

And I have used google and various of wiki pages on plants, poisons and whatever else I might need.

Here's some of the few pictures I've taken of my setup throughout those years:

I have like... way too many notebooks for my own good with frivolous details, character sheets, quickly scribbled quotes and inspiration for the story. I didn't expect that I should have taken more pictures.

As I stated previously, this has pulled the rug out from under me. I thought I'd be happily writing until the new season comes out and beyond that. I hoped to finish S2 of the story by the time S3 would come around--though I am terrible at planning this because the story has a habit of taking a life on its own, so it was not likely lol. But this... I don't want to feel anxious about posting a new chapter. I have this pit in my stomach at the thought of even writing now. The one thing that has sustained me through this, the reason I'm still at it, is the lovely commenters. I am beyond grateful for the friends I've made, and I really do hope I'll find my way back to writing. I hope I can finish this story. But the thought of posting at the moment is just.... it brings me so much dread.

I'm going on a hiatus, I'm taking some time for myself. Maybe now I can finally finish my room.

#mine #A vow of blood

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radioapplerevue · 11 months ago

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Radioapple Fic Recs

Finally got around to organizing a rec list. Going to pin this, since I see people ask for recs a lot. I expect I'll be updating this periodically, too, as I've only just started adding things to it.

These are my personal favorites. For context, I'm an almost 40 year old aroace person whose favorite fics tend to be those who take you apart and then put you back together, haha. Putting them under a read more because I expect this to get long.

The Ruination of Lucifer by @syaunei. (Explicit)

Remember what I said about taking apart and being put back together? Nothing has come close to toppling this fic for me when it comes to emotional catharsis. One of the things I love most about it is how directly it deals with Lucifer's severe depression and the consequences of it, as well as the many, many centuries of him having to deal with just being Who He Is, Where He Is. He's terribly wounded and suffering, but he's also indisputably the King of Hell, with all the power and all the knowledge and all the experience that comes with it.

This fic also stands out for being from Alastor's POV, which I love, because as much as this fic is called The Ruination of Lucifer, the subtitle could be "How Alastor Fucked Around and Found Out". Both of them are getting broken down here, and both of them are -- hopefully -- learning how to grow and move forward. It also takes into account Alastor's asexuality and his unconventional approach towards sex, and what it can (or can't) do for him.

Mind the warnings, though, because shit does get heavy in here for a while. And enjoy the gorgeous illustrations by @betti2024.

2. Lucifer and his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship by @keelywolfe (ratings vary by part)

This series has me in a chokehold. It's considerably softer than many Radioapple fics, but it really draws you in and makes you so invested in these two idiots and how much they care about each other but also how bad they are at understanding how much they care about each other. It's Lucifer's POV, which causes Suffering not only because he's an incredibly unreliable narrator, but because there's Something Going On with Alastor that we know nothing about except that it's Bad. And we (and Lucifer) are dyiiiing to know what it is, haha.

There is a lot of sex in this series, but there's something about it that's very compelling to me, especially from Alastor's side. The way he is written in these encounters is just so... tender. It's obvious that (most of the time) he's not getting anything really in terms of sexual gratification, but he's getting a great deal in terms of gratification of a different sort, and the fact that it's so clear that he derives as much -- or perhaps more -- pleasure from that as Lucifer does from the sex itself is so delicious.

But my favorite aspect of the whole thing is that no matter what conflicts are going on -- whether outside of themselves, or of their own making -- Lucifer has become Alastor's safe harbor. And that kills me.

3. Bedtime Rituals to Try Out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis (teen and up)

Did I mention I like soft? Because I do. And there's something so lovely about the slow, careful way their relationship progresses here, especially on Alastor's side. My issue with this fic is that it ended, haha! I was so looking forward to seeing where it went, because I got addicted to the particular tender rapport that the two of them built. But being left wanting more is hardly a knock on the fic itself, and it's absolutely a treat to get to read.

4. All changed, changed utterly by @tollingreminiscentbells (explicit)

This series is very different from the rest. It's a canon AU where Lucifer and Alastor first met when Alastor was still alive, and then proceeds to go into canon events from there, with Lucifer being the one holding Alastor's leash. There's a lot to chew on, and the author has chosen to go a very different route regarding biblical mythology than the show does. Definitely something I recommend if you want a deep dive into a really meaty series, that delves into both the dynamics of Heaven vs. Hell as well as the worth of free will, as embodied by Alastor (for better or worse).

It also includes one of my new favorite recurring things, which is Alastor's 'delusional not-sex'. (It's sex.)

5. devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss (mature)

I think it's becoming apparent that I really enjoy fics that begin with the two of them butting heads, and sometimes stumbling into a huge blunder, only for them to slowly grow together into something much softer than either of them likely intended. This is one such fic. It also involves some fun stuff with the rest of the cast, and a masquerade. Gotta love that.

6. Of Saints and Sinners by @morningstarwrites (teen and up)

This fic is probably the most lighthearted of the radioapple fics I read, haha. It's a fun romp and has definitely made me laugh out loud on more than one occasion. So if you're looking for something that preserves that antagonism-to-grudging-friendship-to-oh-no-we've-caught-feelings kind of story, but with more comedy and less angst, this is the fic for you! (I mean, I have no idea if angst is going to happen in the future, but so far.)

7. hit me where it hurts (the bruising will be worth it) by RestlessWanderings (mature)

This one can only be called radioapple if you squint, but I'm including it because a) it's by far my favorite take on the hotel battle scene, b) I love when Lucifer gets fucked up and people get scared for him and c) it's technically part of a radioapple series. I don't know if that series is still going to happen, but I do enjoy this plenty on its own!

8. Lucid Dreams of New Orleans by @radiaurapple (teen and up)

This is fic has a very unusual set up -- it deals a lot with memories (mostly Alastor's) with Lucifer along for the ride. If you're interested in seeing Alastor's background and relationships in life fleshed out, with the addition of Lucifer both within those memories and outside of them (and, perhaps, a bit of the other way around), then you should enjoy this journey! Also, pining. Gotta love pining.

9. Take Your King to Work Day by @decembercamiecherries (gen)

This is just a one-shot that I love. It's funny and clever and so very, very Lucifer and Alastor in a nutshell.

10. Line of Sight by @yersifanel (ratings vary -- teen to explicit)

I really enjoyed this series that was done for radioapple week. I'm always into it when Alastor thinks he's being clever and has everything under control and then it comes back to bite him in the ass when he realizes that what he wants isn't what he thought he wanted, and isn't that fucked up, how dare this happen to him. (Basically, I love him being a melodramatic baby over things that are actually not an issue at all. ) The drama of it all! (Alastor is the drama. That's it.)

11. Hunger Pains by @theaffablescamp (explicit. VERY explicit)

This is porn. Ha no it's not just that at all, but as a heads up, this is a very explicit series. So much smut. So if you're not into that, it's not your thing. Basically, Alastor eats a lust demon which does not turn out well for him, proceeds to make a deal with Lucifer to 'fix' the problem, and then creates many many more problems for himself along the way. This series is great for the incredible mental gymnastics Alastor uses to avoid the answers that are staring him right in the face in favor of much worse ones. Also, for a confident Lucifer who often has the upper hand and tries to nudge Alastor into actually acknowledging what he wants (and usually failing). It's messy and fun and very hot.

12. Between the Shadow and the Soul by @winterveritas (explicit)

This series has a bit of a different Alastor than a lot of them, where he's interested in Lucifer off the bat and intent on pursuing him. Of course, being Alastor, he has no idea what he's doing (even when he thinks he does). I am particularly fond of the second entry in the series, because hurt/comfort is my lifeblood. Also, it includes the most creative disposal of Lucifer's wedding ring that I've seen. This series is definitely on the softer side, which is something I take comfort in when some of the other fics hurt me, lol. I certainly hope to see it continued!

Hold here for more! There are a bunch of fics I’m following but am unsure if they’ll ever be finished — which is fine, writers don’t owe us anything! But it will definitely determine how high up they are on my favorites, haha. And of course people are posting new ones all the time.

#radioapple #appleradio

242 notes · View notes

darl1ngpearl · 7 months ago

Text

STREET RACE ,

mechanic!ellie x motorcyclist!reader

PART 2 OF MECHANIC

Author note: chapter 2 of the mechanic series, I kinda don’t like this part at all … but enjoy! Hope I didn’t disappoint

WARNING: petnames used by all characters, minor bullying, small motor crash, accident, injury, angst, flirting, ect.

MESSAGES - open

Y/N : Come see me race against Anderson tonight. 10pm, Woodward street. Be there 💓

read at 4:23pm

Ellie : i’ll be there.

read at 4:25pm

9:20pm

It was 40 minutes till the race against Abby, and to say you were nervous was an understatement. You were stood in the middle of the road biting your nails, looking around every second for some sight of Ellie, and if you weren’t scouting the area, you were checking your phone for her message.

So many thoughts were running through your mind. Thoughts about the race, thoughts about your opponent, if something might be wrong with your bike, Ellie, the garage.

You were sweating.

You watched Abby laugh and bicker with all her team, who would be racing later on through the night.

You were however, stood alone. You had a few team mates come and check on you once in a while, but then you were left alone with your own thoughts once the small conversation ended.

You checked your phone again, still no message. You looked around the crowd again, still no Ellie.

What if she didn’t want to watch you race? What if you thought there was something between you both, but she thought the opposite?

You groaned and shoved your phone into the back pocket of your jeans.

She was causing you too much stress and what you truly wanted to focus on was preparing for your race. Yet no matter what, the thought of her couldnt for even a second leave your mind.

You glanced into the crowd of teens and young adults, who were practically gasping to watch the race between you and Anderson, before you grabbed the handles of your motorbike and began wheeling it to the starting line.

Your bike was heavy, without a doupt, so wheeling it around was trouble for you at times, but you managed, you always did.

Yet, someone clearly thought otherwise.

Abby’s attention shifted from her team to you, and she couldn’t help but snicker at the sight, causing them to all turn their heads to also watch. She excused herself from the group, before making her way towards you.

“Need help there princess? Looks like you’re struggling.”

She wore a confident grin on her face, and crossed her arms as she slowly walked beside you.

You didn’t mutter a word, keeping your eyes on the bike.

“Excuse me doll, it’s extremely rude to ignore someone when they are trying to talk to you.”

You huffed and looked towards her with a scowl,

“No, I don’t need your help Anderson. Leave me be.”

She rolled her eyes and went to grab ahold of a handle, before you smacked the back of her hand, causing her to pull away quickly with a hiss.

You stopped walking and spoke through gritted teeth,

“Don’t touch my fucking bike Anderson.”

You could hear small gasps and whispers from those who witnessed the scene in the crowd.

Abby looked around awkwardly, before scoffing in your face. She took a step closer and held a pointing finger infront of your face.

“I’d cut it with the attitude if I were you. You won’t be feeling so big when i win the race.”

The comment caused you to belly laugh.

“Alright Abby whatever you say, but just remember who beat you in every other race.”

You grabbed the handles of your bike once more and began to walk away. Yet, you were again stopped. This time, by Ellie running onto the tracks shouting your name.

You spun around the moment you heard her voice, with the biggest grin painted across your face.

“Y/N!”

She stopped right before you with a wide smile. She was dressed in her signature white tank, paired with jeans and converse. In one hand she held a tool box, and in the other 2 water bottles.

She set down the items beside your bike, before pulling you in for a hug.

“Sorry I was late, the queue to get in was packed. Everyone must be dying to see my girl huh?”

You blushed at the comment before planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Don’t be so silly, atleast you’re here now.”

Abby, who was still standing close by you, grimaced and grunted at the sight.

Ellie raised an eyebrow and turned to Abby, her hands remained on your hips. She gave the well built women a quick glance up and down.

“Problem Anderson?”

Abby raised her hands in surrender, scoffing under her breath.

“Not at all Williams.”

Abby then spun on her heals and began her way back to her team.

Ellie focused back to you and tucked a few loose strands of your pony tail behind your ear.

“Brought my tool box just incase you wanted me to quickly check up on your bike. I also brought you some water, I’m sure racing can be thirsty work.”

You giggled and pecked her lips thrice before speaking,

“Thanks els”

She pulled away from the hug and turned to your bike before you could catch the plush painted across her cheeks.

Ellie grabbed your bike and with ease, pushing it towards the starting line and you finally managed to make it with no interruption.

You carried the water and the tool box and once making it to the line, you handed the box towards Ellie.

Straight away she got to work checking the parts of the bike, making sure nothing was faulty or broken.

You stood beside her, scrolling through Instagram and messages, sending replies to the “good luck” messages and commenting on instagram posts that were raving about the race that was taking place in a matter of minutes.

The time read 9:50pm. Meaning, everyone needed to get into position to start. The roads needed to be clear of people, minus those racing, to ensure the safely of everyone, and the gates needed to be checked to ensure no one was hopping over to run on the tracks mid race.

Ellie closed up her tool box and brushed the sweat off her forehead with her forearm.

“All sorted babe, should be more than safe to ride.”

You flashed her a genuine smile and hopped onto your bike. You took a few sips from the first bottle from Ellie, before pulling your helmet over your face.

Ellie was watching you with complete admiration, in disbelief she was able to pull you of all people. Secretly, she was thanking god you didn’t know how to care for a faulty bike or parts. She was also thanking Jesse for dragging you to her garage when you needed a wheel change, or else you may have never met.

She was quickly pulled out of her trance when you turned your head to look at her.

You shouted over the roaring engines and loud cheers from the crowd,

“Cheer for me”

You blew her a kiss and she smirked, before shouting back,

“Was already planning to doll”

You giggled and turned to look to your other side, watching Abby shove her helmet on and rev her bike, causing the cheers from the crowd to grow louder. You rolled your eyes and faced forward, cringing at her smug attitude.

Ellie was ushered off the tracks. She sat just in front of the gate, next to medics and engineers, giving her a better view of the large screen that would be showing the race.

Abby and you had to go around the track 5 times before the race ended. Whoever made it to the finish line first on their last lap would win, obviously.

There was a few rules in place, not to purposely run each other of the tracks, to not hop off your bike at any point during the race, unless standing at the side of the track, and other basic rules.

You listened to the referee announce the race through the speakers. When your name was announced, screams, yells, cheers and claps all came from the crowd. You blew a kiss to the camera that was currently live on the screen, causing the crowd to grow louder. There were cameras flashing left right and centre, trying to capture the best shot of you pre race, if you won, the attention you recieve at the finish line would be doubled.

Abby as then announced, and the crowd once again started to cheer and cameras were flashing at every direction. You weren’t one to brag, but if the winner depeneded on how loud the crowd cheered for you, you would’ve already won.

On camera, Abby flexed her muscles, causing many people in the crowd to scream. You on the other hand, we’re caught in the corner of the screen rolling your eyes and pretending to gag, causing loud irrupts of laughter from those watching, even from the medics and engineer team.

Then, the countdown. The referee would count down from 30, and as soon as the last digit was announced, Abby and you would be speeding around the tracks, racing against eachother in hopes of winning. If Abby were to win this race, it would be the first time she’d beat you. You and Abby had raced against eachother 8 times, 9 if you include the race about to start, but all 8 times you won. Abby would always claim you cheated and demand a rematch, yet everytime the referee said you won fair, and even shown Abby camera footage of you beating her with ease.

5…4…3…2…1

The second the referee announced the last number you sped off down the track, leaving Abby to trail behind. The crowd was left behind, the chants growing quieter as you turned a corner. You felt small splats of rain on your helmet. The rain didn’t bother you when racing, as long as it didn’t pick up. Heavy rain means the race could be cancelled because of how dangerous the tracks would be. It just wasn’t safe.

You continued to speed around the tracks, clocking the sight of Abby in the corner of your eye railing close behind you. You flashed your tail lights at her, before speeding up and once again leaving her behind.

You turned another corner and as you rode along the straight road you could hear the faint cheers of the crowd. You made your way back into the pit, where the starting line was.

You slowed your bike down for a brief second, to wave at those in the crowd, before speeding off into your second lap. A few seconds behind you came Abby, who didn’t stop to pay the crowd attention. She earned a few boos, but her main focus was beating you.

Midway through your second lap the rain started to pick up, causing you worry. You were still able to clearly see the roads, but without a doubt the track was getting slippy.

You decided to slow down until you got to your third lap, in hopes that the rain would calm. As you began to slow, Abby quickly overtook you and sped around a corner. You frowned at her behaviour, yet continued to ride ahead.

Your second lap was over, and you were again in the pit. You looked around as everyone in the crowd was wrapped in waterproof coats and ponchos. The rain wasn’t slowing down, infact, as you crossed the line you realised it was hard to see the road through the rain. It was dark, it was gloomy and it was chucking it down with rain.

You were worried, but nevertheless you began the speed up. You were neck to neck with Abby as soon as you picked up your pace.

You both road against eachother. You lifted up the visor on your helmet and shouted across to Abby, hoping she was able to hear you over the rain and rumbling bike engines.

“It’s too risky! If we keep racing one of us could get hurt!”

She aswell lifted up her visor and you got a clear view of the scowl painted across her face.

“I’m not stopping, I can ride in this weather without an issue, I won’t get hurt.”

She flicked down the visor and sped off.

You groaned and did the same, before picking up your pace. You swerved around corners with a slight wobble, causing you to panic further, yet you road in weather like this before and were fine, so surely you can do it again today.

Just before Abby made it into the pit, you sped past her and straight over the starting line.

Abby was in disbelief, before she started pushing herself to catch up. You were far ahead, gliding on the straight roads, the curved roads, you were practically flying around corners.

Ellie was watching you on the screen, and frankly she was panicking. The weather was beginning to become treacherous. People in the crowd started to leave due to the severity of the rain, the engineers beside her moved to sit under a gazebo where they had set up to cover spare bike parts, the medics were sat in the ambulance and Ellie was just standing out in the pouring rain, biting her nails, too afraid to take her eyes off the screen.

For some stupid reason, the referee refused to end the race and continued to announce every moment of the race through the speakers.

You couldn’t see through your visor whatsoever, which caused you freak out. You couldn’t see the tracks, it was so painted with rain that you couldn’t even see the rain falling.

You were riding too fast for you to take your hands off the handles for even a split second. If you were to slow down to lift it, Abby would take you over, and in the second to last race, it was too much of a risky move.

You were just about to make it through to the pit when you turned around a corner and instead of turning, your bike started to swerve left and right, before it tipped sideways and skated off the tracks, with you still on it.

You screamed and shut your eyes tight. Bracing for any possible impact into barriers or bushes.

Just before your bike landed flat, you rolled off and tumbled onto the sludgy mud. You grimaced in pain and were frozen in place for a few moments, before you clocked what had just happened.

Ellie watched your bike skate off of the tracks in fear. All colour had fell from her face as she looked at you sprawled across the floor.

Gasps, screams and yells came from the remaining crowd. Everyone couldn’t believe the sight playing before them.

You were never in previous biking accidents, you were one of the steadiest racers, one of the best racers, and there you were, on the side of the road not moving.

Immediately, sirens belonging to ambulances were wailing, paramedics were jumping in and buckling up, before they sped off down the track.

Ellie didn’t know what to do. She was frozen in place, eyes unable to pull away from the screen.

That was her girl.

Her girl who just crashed, her girl who she couldn’t be beside, her girl who she couldn’t help, her girl who she didn’t know was even breathing.

Her eyes started to brim with tears. She was in shock, she was petrified and she needed to get to you as fast as possible.

Without thinking, she turned to a mechanic who was packing up their truck to make their way towards the crash.

She grabbed the man by his shoulders and frantically spoke,

“I need you to get me to her right now.”

Instead of the male questioning her, he just nodded his head and pulled away from her grasp.

“Get in”

He jogged over to the drivers side, and as Ellie sat down in the passenger seat, chants and claps started to irrupt from the crowd.

Ellie turned her head to the large screen and watched as you had sat up and yanked off your helmet, throwing it at your bike.

The look on your face made her heart break.

You were in tears and the look on your face portrayed pure panic. You had a few scratches across your cheeks and your bottom lip was split.

Without a single thought, you shot up for your position and began to yank at your bike, you felt dizzy and there was a slight wobble to your form each time you yanked at the bike, but nevertheless, you didn’t stop.

You needed to finish the race, you needed to get back on the tracks before Abby caught up.

You managed to unstick the bike from the mud and lifted it upright. You circled around it, checking for any serious damage. It was too dark for you to pin point any faulty parts of the bike, but it wasn’t going to stop you.

You ripped off your leather jacket and started to wipe the mud off your bike with the long sleeves of your shirt. If anything, the bike wasn’t getting any cleaner, you were just getting dirtier.

After a few moments, you stepped back from the bike, your jeans and shirt now caked in thick mud.

You started to push your bike to the side of the track, grunting with each push.

For the first time since the crash, you look at the tracks.

There were now 2 ambulances stationed in front of you, Abby and her bike, the referee and his car.

You gnawed at your bottom lip, taking in the sight before you.

Your eyes were glued to the referee, who was also the owner of this whole racing programme, marching towards you.

Before he spoke, you just started to plead.

“I’m fine! I’m not hurt! Please let me race, please let me race I can still do it!”

You patted the seat of the bike and continued to beg,

“See! My bike is fine! I can still race, please just let me race”

You were distraught, you were sobbing and blubbering, begging the man for anything.

“ I cannot let you race, it’s against the rules and you know it is. You come off the tracks, you don’t race. I’m dissapointed in you Y/N, normally you’re golden when it comes to racing.”

You held your hands over your face and just sobbed. You couldn’t believe it. If it was a fair reason that you lost then you wouldn’t be as upset, but this was more than unfair.

You lifted your head from your hands and took a step closer to him,

“I can still race though! Just bend the rules, just this once I am begging you! You don’t even have to restart the lap, just let me go from here I can still do it! I still have a chance please!”

“No Y/N, I don’t care what you have to say, I’m not bending my rules for someone who can’t stay on the tracks, Abby is the winner, don’t be a sore loser.”

You were astounded by what was coming from his mouth, it just upset you further. You watched as he walked away from you, shaking his head. You groaned aloud and shoved your bike over, kicking at the back wheel before continuing to cry.

You heard heavy steps approaching you, and you begin bracing yourself for another lecture.

You looked up and saw Abby, whose eyebrows were knitted together.

“Abby-“

You didn’t even get to speak before she was pulling you into a hug. Her large, muscular arms wrapped around the small of your back, and she pulled her head into her chest.

“Is everything alright? Are you injured? God, I’m such a twat. I’m sorry I ignored you when you said we could get hurt.”

You wrapped your arms around her middle and sobbed into her chest.

“He said he’s disappointed in me. I begged him to let me hop back on the tracks and then we won’t have to restart the lap, but he said he didn’t want to listen to me when I can’t even stay on the tracks!”

She rubbed a palm against your back, before scoffing at the behaviour received from the referee.

“You’d think he’d act opposite to how he did, considered his best racer just got injured, and if this news comes out to the wrong people his business could be taken down.”

You shrugged your shoulders and pulled away from the hug.

“Thanks Anderson, sorry for covering you in mud”

You both looked at her chest, which had mud and tears smeared on the middle.

You both laughed at the sight whilst she led you towards the paramedics.

You sat down on the back of the ambulance and relaxed your shoulders.

“I just need to do something real quick okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Abby still has a frown displayed across her face and was typing furiously away at her phone.

“Where are you going?”

“To the pit, the ref is there and I need to talk to him”

You groaned and rolled your eyes,

“Don’t do anything stupid Anderson”

She chuckled and shoved her phone in her Jean pocket. She flattened a few stray hairs on the top of your head before sending you a playful wink.

“I can’t promise you that”

You scoffed and watched as she jogged to her bike, shouting over her shoulder to you,

“If I see Williams I’ll bring her here! But I sure she has already found a way to get to you!”

You nodded and giggled, then whispered an apology to the medic who was trying to treat the wounds on your face.

You shut your eyes and listened to the faint bellowing of the crowd in the distance. You let out a sigh and thought about how quickly the race went sideways.

You felt lucky with the impact, you only had a few injuries, and nothing severe happened to you. Your bike on the other hand, is probably fucked, and it didn’t help that you shoved it over and kicked it.

You winced slightly as the medic raised your shirt, checking for anymore injuries. You had a few purple and blue bruises across your hips, which was mostly likely from tumbling off your bike.

“Oh my, you’re going to need to rest up well my dear, these are broken ribs”

You groaned and threw your head back I frustration, letting out a harsh puff of air.

She climbed into the back of the ambulance and pulled out a foil blanket, then wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Thank you”

You barely spoke above a whisper. You sighed and pulled your phone from your pocket, looking at the hundreds of recent posts you were tagged in. They concluded of photos and videos of the crash, as well as messages wishing you the best. You checked your messages and saw a message from Jesse, Ellie and your mum.

Ellie and your mother had messaged you before the race, your mum had sent you a good luck message, and Ellie had sent you a video of the large screen minutes into the race. Jesse had messaged you after the crash asking if you were okay. You sent him a quick reply before you went back onto Ellie’s messages.

When you played the video, you could hear her screaming and cheering for you. It made you giggle and when the video ended, you replayed it again and again.

You smiled at how cheesy she was and saved the video into your camera roll.

You pressed on the call button and held your phone upto your ear, waiting for Ellie to pick up. What you didn’t know, is that she was in the truck pulling up beside the ambulance.

You continued to let the phone ring, growing concerned that she wasn’t picking up. You heard one of the truck doors slam, which caused you to jump.

You poked your head around the wall of the ambulance, and saw Ellie sprinting towards you, which reminded you of her before the race.

You shot up from your seated position, before you groaned and clung onto your stomach, placing a firm hand over your ribs.

“Oh my god, oh my god! Are you alright? How badly injured are you? Oh fuck, I thought you were dead!”

you frowned and grabbed her hand, holding it between both your hands, caressing her palm with your thumb.

“I’m okay els, promise. Just a few scratches and broken ribs, other than that, I’m okay.”

She sighed and pulled you in for a hug, being careful not to press against your waist. Her hands rested on your butt and her chin was leaning on the top of your head. She closed her eyes and held you as close as she could.

“I don’t think I have ever been so scared in my life”

“I’m sorry els, I’m really sorry”

She planted a kiss on the top of your head and grumbled,

“Don’t you apologise, you’re not the one who should be doing that. The only person that should apologise is that dickhead of a referee”

You giggled and closed your eyes, enjoying her warm embrace

“I hope you know you’ll be covered in mud now”

She scoffed and lifted you from the floor. You wrapped your legs around her waist and rested your head on her shoulder.

The mechanics and recovery team were busy collecting your bike, so Ellie decided to walk her way back to the pit. It wasn’t far, maybe a five minute walk at most.

“I’ll take us back to mine okay? I’ll help you clean up, I’ll make us something to eat, and we can just relax”

You nodded and kissed her cheek,

“I’ll have to borrow some clothes though”

“Well obviously, I’m not going to make you walk around naked, even though that would be hot as fuck”

You slapped her chest and you both laughed.

Ellie put you down just before she walked through to the pit.

“You okay to walk? I would carry you in but I think everyone is expecting a grand entrace.”

You rolled your eyes and held onto her hand, before making your way into the pit. Immediately, the crowd was roaring, some were screaming, or cheering, some were clapping, some were even crying.

You waved to the crowd and had a wide smile

Painted across your face. You looked around and giggled at everyone’s reactions.

You both continued to walk through the pit, looking through everyone in the crowd. You lent in close to Ellie and flashed her a grin,

“I hope you know everyone here will be posting about us together tonight, they probably think we are dating”

Ellie chuckled and stopped walking, pulling you to stop with her.

“What?”

“Should we address the rumours?”

You frowned as she pulled you closer, resting her hands on your cheeks.

“I don’t understand what you mean”

“Should we let them know that are we dating?”

You sighed, hugging your arms around her waist.

“But we are not, Ellie”

She hummed in agreement and caressed your face with her thumbs,

“Y/n-“

“Ellie don’t you dare”

She grinned and planted a quick peck on your lips.

Whilst this was all occurring, the crowd was going insane. You thought they couldn’t get any louder, yet they managed to prove you so very wrong.

“Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?”

“You’re seriously asking me this on one of the most humiliating nights of my life Williams?”

“Is that a no?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head,

“Yes Ellie, I will be your girlfriend”

She grinned and pulled you into a deep kiss.

Ellie and you were projected onto the large screen, for everyone to watch the romantic moment.

Everyone was clapping and cheering, enjoying the moment almost as much as you and her.

You pulled away and there was a light blush spreading across your cheeks.

“Cmon, we need to find Abby…and my bike”

She nodded her head and followed you to a small group of racers that were standing in a circle.

“I watched you shove over your bike after talking to the ref, kind of hurt my soul knowing how much time I spent finding imaginary issues went into that bike”

“Oh shut your mouth Williams, you’ll live”

She laughed and playfully shoved your arm.

The closer the both of you got to the circle, the sooner you realised the referee and Abby were standing in the middle. And the closer you got, the better you could hear Abby bellowing at him.

“I swear to god if you do not want to lose your job we will be doing a re-race! It won’t be tommorow, it won’t be next week! But it will fucking happen. And I swear if it doesn’t, you will lose all your racers, all your money, your job, your life, everything! You don’t even want me to get started on how far I will go to take you down, but trust me it’ll be too fucking far you asshole”

Abby pushed her way out of the circle and was met by you and Ellie standing in front of her with wide eyes and mouths agar.

“There will be a re-race.”

You nodded and flashed her a genuine smile,

“Thank you abs, really”

“Don’t even mention it, I enjoyed shouting at that asshole”

The three of you laughed, before you pulled Abby into another hug.

“Please don’t hug me back, you may break more of my ribs”

“Holy shit, you broke your ribs?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be okay, plus I’ve got Ellie to take care of me”

You both pulled away from eachother and she nodded.

“Oh, they’ve taken your bike to the workshop, you’ll be getting a message about that sooner or later”

“Thank you”

“Of course, I’ll let you both get going, I gotta get back to Dina before I recieve another angry text message”

You giggled and nodded, watching her jog away to the car park.

You turned your attention back to Ellie and started to laugh at the shocked expression,

“Dina?!”

Your laughter grew louder and you started to walk away from her, on your way to the car park.

“Cmon slow poke”

She rushed over to you, before walking beside you. She grabbed ahold of your hand and intertwined her fingers with yours.

“Please tell me you brought your car Williams”

“Of course I did, I was not going to walk the whole hour here, I would’ve missed the first part of the race.”

You rolled your eyes and lent your head on her shoulder,

“You are so whipped”

END OF PT 2

Author note: please tell me your thoughts, I do not enjoy how this chapter came out. Part 3 (final part) out soon baby!!

96 notes · View notes

zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

Take Me Home - Part 2

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments on Part 1! I know many of you have questions, and I promise, all will be revealed in due time…

(Also, what do you guys think of new chapters releasing on Wednesdays and Sundays instead of just Fridays? A week is a long time, isn't it? 😂)

Song Inspo: “City Grown Willow” by Radio Company

Word Count: 5,200

Tags/Warnings: Tension, hurt/comfort, major angst, and more comfort of a different sort.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Not Right, But It’s Okay

Tensions were running high at Sunny Day Excursions.

Over the next few days, Mary continued to press the issue of you staying in Montana with little passive aggressive comments that got on your damn nerves. You proverbially dug your heels in, and became even more stubborn and taciturn as a result.

Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

However, the entire camp was shaken the night Paige and Luke disappeared on a hike. Buck and Sunny assured everyone that they were doing their best to look for the couple, but come the morning, it was Emily who accidentally found Luke in the woods, bleeding from a head wound, and without Paige.

He claimed that they’d gone their separate ways after a fight, and he hadn’t seen her since. Paige’s suitcase and things were gone from her tent, so Sunny could only assume that she’d found her way back to camp and left for home by morning.

“Look, no one’s a prisoner here,” Sunny had said. “If Paige wanted to go home, then that’s up to her.”

There was still something off about it though, you felt. Emily seemed to share your thoughts; you’d heard her whispering with Avery, and Dan, another camper in his early 40s.

You started to watch Luke a bit harder from then on. As did your friend Mary, if for different reasons.

It was still early in the morning when you caught her flirting with Luke in front of your shared tent.

“A personal trainer, huh?” said Luke. His gaze flit over Mary’s form, and she allowed it with a smile. “You know, I’ve got a pretty good workout routine, but I’ll bet you can give me some tips—”

“Drink lots of water,” you said dryly as you approached the tent. You carried your sketchpad and acrylic paints in your hand, and you pushed into the tent without giving Luke and Mary more than a glance.

You heard Mary’s voice outside the tent, all girlish and flirtatious as she apologized about you, and suggested they could keep talking later. Luke readily agreed. You sat down on the edge of your bed and watched his silhouette walk away from the tent.

Mary soon joined you inside, and she didn’t look pleased. She stared down at you and crossed her arms.

“Are you kidding me with that shit?” you asked, gesturing at the scene you just saw.

“Could you be any more of a cockblock?” Mary shot back.

“Number one, that guy is a little too young for you, Cougar Town,” you reminded her. Luke had to be in his early 20s. It had been a hot minute since you and Mary were of college age. “Number two, he came here with his girlfriend, who he somehow lost in the woods.”

“She left him,” Mary said. “All alone in the middle of nowhere. Then she took off and went home so she didn’t have to deal with what she did. I feel bad for him.”

“No, you’re horny for him. There’s a difference,” you said flatly.

You loved Mary like a sister, but she had the tendency to let guys blind her to good sense. (Ha. Pot calling the kettle black, came your self-deprecation.)

Though you could’ve predicted the way she huffed and walked away, once again leaving you alone. You sighed.

Wasn’t this vacation for us? you wondered.

Mary continued to bait Luke with coy flirtation, while you tried and failed to ride a horse again. Cormack had been kind and encouraging in trying to help you onto the creature, but once you were on its back, you were too afraid to let the horse move.

You felt like you were going to topple off at any moment, even with Beau Arlen’s advice. (Which still made you blush whenever you thought about it.)

So Cormack helped you down, and you went back to the mess tent for a mid-afternoon snack to make you feel better: a giant jelly donut.

You were really getting frustrated with yourself now.

“It’s not so hard,” Emily had said. You could imagine that her dad, the cowboy sheriff, had put her on a horse from the time she was a little kid. You were a city girl, through and through. The closest you’d ever gotten to riding a horse was a plastic one—a carousel at a carnival when you were six.

While you finished off your donut, you realized that you’d spent the whole day alone. As frustrated as you were with Mary, she was your best friend. And after this week, you would be staying and she would be going back to Chicago. You didn’t know when you would get to see her again.

So with a sigh, you wiped your hands free of donut icing and went to try and find her.

You started with the tent you shared with her. “Hey, Mary? Look I—”

You gasped when, upon entering the tent, you got your eyes seared. Mary and Luke were tangled together under the sheets. He moved off of your friend and rolled onto his back next to her when you came in. Mary uttered your name in shock. Everyone was shocked, really.

You were that, and angry.

“Really?! In our goddamn bed?” you shouted. Your gaze focused on Luke, and you pointed at him. “Get the hell out of here.”

He hesitated slightly, glancing at Mary, but your furious look scared him more. He grabbed his boxers and got dressed under the sheets before he left the bed, and then fled the tent, giving you a wide berth on his way out.

You then focused on Mary, who somehow looked both contrite and irritated at being interrupted. She said your name in a placating way, but you shook your head.

“No. No. Don’t even try,” you said. “That guy’s girlfriend left him in the middle of a vacation! What does that tell you? Please, screw me?”

“You know what?” Mary snapped. She sat up in the bed, making sure to cover herself with the sheet. She leaned over to grab her clothes from the floor and started hastily getting dressed.

“Luke’s actually a nice guy," she said. "You used to know how to have fun. But now you’ve just become this bitter person who can’t relax or let yourself be happy, let alone anyone else.”

That actually struck you—like a physical blow to your chest. You tried to blink past the sting of tears in your eyes.

“You’re a damn child,” you said, steadier than you felt. “You’re not the one who had your whole world imploded.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She still looked angry, but also like she was hiding the sting of guilt. She gathered up some of her things and informed you that she’d be staying at Luke’s tent tonight.

Freakin’ fine by you.

You’d also have to request some new bed sheets from Sunny.

In the morning, you stumbled out of bed after a rough night’s sleep. It was hard for you to sleep in a new place by yourself, especially out here in the woods.

Especially after how you and Mary left things.

You were so tired, you counted it a small blessing that you were able to put on clothes and get your hair into some kind of normalcy before you trekked over to the mess tent.

There you accidentally overheard Avery and Emily arguing; she’d lost her knife in the woods when she’d happened upon Luke, but Avery was reluctant to let her go hiking by herself. Apparently, her mother was due to join them this morning as well.

It seemed like the day of late comers though. A new married couple, Tonya and Donno, had arrived late yesterday to join the trip. They’d requested a tent at the far end of the camp, closest to the woods. Apparently, they wanted to really experience nature.

All you knew was, they seemed a bit weird.

“That knife’s important. My father gave it to me,” Emily said, interrupting your thoughts.

It made Avery quiet, but they both greeted you more pleasantly when you had to walk by them to get to the coffee.

“Hey, sorry,” you gave a little wave in embarrassment. You hated interrupting moments that had nothing to do with you, but you supposed it was unavoidable in this camp.

Once you’d gotten your coffee and filled your plate with some eggs and bacon, you joined them at the table. You pretended not to notice the way they both glanced at you with measures of concern. Did you really look that bad?

Avery wisely didn’t comment. Emily wasn’t as good at curbing her inner filter.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked. You gave her a thin smile.

“Just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep so well,” you admitted.

Of course, that was when the reason for your bedraggled appearance strolled into the mess tent. Mary came in and noticed Avery and Emily first with a smile. It turned frosty when she glanced at you. You gave her a mocking “smile” right back.

She chose to ignore you and went for the buffet table instead.

Right, you thought. You supposed that was how it was going to be for the rest of this damn trip.

“All righty! Good mornin’, folks,” Sunny said, entering the mess tent. She surveyed all the faces gathered—some relaxed and jovial, and then your table, a bit awkward, a bit tense.

She moved on with a smile that matched her name and her shiny red hair.

“Just lettin’ you all know as a reminder, we’ve got a bunch of activities for you all if there are any takers. Archery, kayaking, it’s gonna be a great time,” she said. “But if you prefer, you’re welcome to keep to the camp have a more relaxed day. It’s your vacation, so it’s up to you how you wanna spend it.”

You all nodded in understanding.

It’s your vacation. You choose how you spend it.

That, you could get on board with.

You spent the rest of the morning alone, as usual. Either you were reading in the outdoor lounge area, taking in the sunshine and the fresh air, or you were painting, taking in the landscape of the tall trees and the great, big mountains peeking out from behind them.

You earned yourself some peace today, one that let you breathe and try to tune out your frustrations with Mary, and your worries about the future. You hummed along to a melody in your mind as you painted. Completely at peace…

Until a hand tapped on your shoulder, making you yelp and sending your paintbrush high in the air.

Cormack came into your line of vision with a barely stifled laugh and placating hands. While you took out your earbuds (and calmed your breathing), he grabbed your brush and handed it back to you.

“Sorry about that. Just wanted to let you know that lunch is served,” he said, though he took a glance at your painting. “Hey, lookin’ real good there. Nice landscape.”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Aw, you don’t have to be so nice. I’m still learning.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, if you’re interested in taking classes, I know someone who runs an art studio in town. Miss Peggy. Nice lady. Not too harsh.”

You laughed more genuinely.

“Good to know, thanks! Send me the address and I’ll check it out,” you said. Cormack agreed with a smile, and he helped you up from the long couch you were sitting on. The two of you walked back together to the central part of the camp, where the mess tent was.

There you met Emily’s mother, Carla, who’d just joined her family at the camp. She wasn’t exactly dressed for camping in her pressed blouse and pencil skirt; professional and smart, her long dark hair a perfect coil.

This woman was immaculate. As you soon learned, she was also a lawyer. You didn’t often feel intimidated by other women, but she could fit that bill, considering you were sweaty and dusty in your plain V-necked shirt and jeans.

And especially knowing that this was Sheriff Arlen’s ex-wife. Avery seemed like the “wealthy businessman” type—the kind of man you’d expect a high-powered lawyer to be with. You found yourself wondering how she’d met the sheriff.

That’s none of your busineeeess, you sing-songed in your mind, while you speared more salad on your plate. As if that could disguise the juicy brisket burger right beside it.

After lunch, you returned to your tent to finally find Mary. She was lying on the bed, looking a bit listless.

“I’m surprised you’re not attached to Luke’s hip,” you remarked, setting down your backpack and paint supplies on the floor. “Or his face.”

She shot you a peeved look. “He keeps ditching me for that weird new couple. Tonya and Donner or something.”

“Donno?” you supplied. “Yeah, he’s weird. He stole the ketchup bottle from the breakfast table this morning. He told me, ‘You shouldn’t ruin good eggs with sugary tomato paste.’”

Mary raised a brow, but she turned to you when you sat down beside her on the bed. There was a moment of tension between you, even though your gazes were softer to each other. The truth was, you missed your friend today. You guys didn’t fight often, and it had you hurting. Maybe she felt the same way.

“Listen,” you said with a sigh. “I’m not sorry for throwing Luke out of our tent. That was gross as hell, and I didn’t appreciate that. But I don’t want to fight with you. I want to enjoy our last few days together before you go back to Chicago.”

Mary’s lips pursed, but she seemed to relent.

“Yeah, that was a bitch move,” she admitted. She knew full well that her tryst with Luke could’ve happened in his tent, not the one she shared with you. She met your gaze with more resignation, as well as apology.

“You’re really staying here, aren’t you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m not saying there’s nothing for me back home. Of course I’m going to miss you, our friends, the rest of my family…but I need to do this. I need a fresh start.”

It took her a moment, but Mary nodded. She reached over and hugged you. You held her back tightly.

After a beat, she let you go and slid out of bed.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I need to do something. I’m going stir crazy in here.”

“Where’re you going?” you asked.

“Just for a run,” she replied. “I should be back by dinner.”

“A run?” you repeated, your brows furrowing. “In the woods by yourself? Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

“Well, you could come with me,” she offered. You grimaced. You and running didn’t mix. You were more of a yoga girl.

Mary laughed and finished changing into her activewear and sneakers.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “No worries, I’ll have my phone if anything. I’ll be okay.”

“But your cell won’t have service out there!” you said.

Mary was already leaving. She blew you a kiss goodbye, though she did stop in the tent’s entryway. Her face sobered with a sincere apology.

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back, clear my head.”

You were reluctant to see her go, but you nodded.

“Just be back in time for dinner!” you called after her.

Mary wasn’t back for dinner. Even after the sun set, she hadn’t come back from her run. You were really beginning to worry.

All the other campers were gathering up at the edge of camp for a Night Hike. It was an idea Buck and Sunny surprised you all with a few hours ago. You wondered if they were trying to make up for the strange way Paige left the camp.

“The moon’s full tonight,” as Sunny had said, with a slightly too bright smile. “Should be a beautiful time.”

You asked some of the others if they’d seen Mary, but they all replied negatively. Even Luke was nowhere to be found…but someone else was missing too.

“I still can’t believe you let her go into the woods alone,” Carla snapped at her husband.

Avery’s frown deepened. “I had no idea she went off by herself. You know your daughter. She’s headstrong—”

“Yeah, just like her father,” Carla muttered, turning away from him. Avery sighed.

You couldn’t help but approach them.

“Emily’s missing?" you said in concern. "Mary is too. I’ve been waiting for her to come back all afternoon.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Carla said. She frowned as anxiety continued to well up in her eyes. “Maybe they found each other.”

You touched her arm in comfort. “Either way, we can all look for them now.”

Sunny came up to the group with a flashlight and a smile.

“Everyone ready?” she asked.

“Mary’s missing,” you told her, “And so is Emily. Mary went on a run this morning and hasn’t been back since.”

Sunny inclined her head. After she surveyed the rest of the crowd, she settled back on you.

“I see Luke’s not among us either. Maybe they’re together?” she suggested, in a leading tone. You frowned.

“No, she left alone,” you said firmly.

“Don’t mean she stayed alone, darlin’,” Sunny replied, with that Oklahoma twang that so often made her words more charming. “But we’ll be sure to look for her and Emily while we’re out there.”

Carla shook her head and said to her husband, “That’s it. I’m calling Beau.”

“Darling, you don’t need to,” Avery replied, shaking his head. “Emily’s a responsible girl. She knows what time we’re meant to leave—”

Carla shook her head and walked past him and Sunny—towards the hotspot for cell service. You agreed with her; calling the sheriff couldn’t hurt, especially if you all couldn’t find Mary or Emily on this hike.

You still went with the rest of them to start your own search. You tried to keep with the group, but after lingering in certain spots to call for Mary, you eventually realized that you’d lost the trail—and everyone else.

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

The panic was back now, full force, and you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. And when you turned another corner, you screamed when you bumped into someone.

A girl’s scream echoed just as loudly as yours in the big, empty wood, but you got ahold of yourself, literally with a hand over your wildly beating heart when you realized who you’d run into.

“Emily!” you uttered. The girl let out a breath of relief to see you too. You went to her and pulled her into a hug, and she hugged you back.

“Thank. God,” she said. Her voice sounded tight with emotion, and you held her a bit tighter.

“It’s okay,” you rubbed her back. “How long’ve you been out here?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, pulling away from you. “Couple of hours? Maybe longer.”

You nodded and expelled a breath. Poor thing looked tired. She didn’t even have any supplies with her. You gave her a protein bar from your backpack before you two started walking.

“So the good news is, we found each other. The bad news is, we’re still lost,” you said, counting each item on your fingers. “But the good news also is, I’ve only been walking for about…half an hour or so. I’m thinking we can mark trees or other landmarks as we pass them, like checking them off, so we know where we’ve been.”

Emily glanced at you with a smile. “You’re a checklist person, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely!” you agreed. “Checking things off is satisfying. But it’s also good just to take an inventory of where we’re at.”

You two kept walking for a while. Emily explained that she’d been following Luke, who took off by himself after giving her an ominous warning.

“There are some bad people on this trip. Want my advice? Get the hell out of here,” he’d said.

You frowned in concern. You’d felt that there was something fishy about that guy, pretty much from the moment he and Paige disappeared on that hike. Those newcomers he’d been hanging out with ever since, Tonya and Donno…maybe they had something to do with it.

They’d left camp today to go into town, claiming to check on the restaurant they owned and ran. But with everything now starting to come into perspective, you couldn’t take any piece of information at face value around here.

Suddenly, Emily stopped short.

“What’s…” Your words trailed as you followed her line of vision. There was a frilly pair of underwear on the ground.

That led to a hoodie strewn in the dirt and dead leaves. You continued on, until you found Mary, lying on her back on the cold ground. You and Emily gasped her name, but you moved first, dropping to your knees at Mary’s side. You pressed a hand to her cheek and found it cold.

You moved two fingers to the pulse point at her neck, but there was nothing. No life in her. Your mouth fell open in a silent, shocked cry.

“Mary? Honey, can you hear me?” you tried, shaking her shoulders. When she remained unresponsive, tears burned in your eyes and blurred your vision. You finally saw a dark patch of wet pooled out from under her body.

“Oh my God,” Emily said, voicing your thoughts. She was panicked. “Oh God, she’s…she’s…”

You turned to her and wanted to say, Don’t look.

You had briefly taught highschoolers before you became a college professor. You were used to looking out for your students, and as the adult here, you wanted to shield the teen from the sight of this, no matter how much your mind was spinning.

Before you could say anything, Emily fled the clearing with a scream.

“Emily!” you shouted after her. You glanced back at Mary in desperation, but you forced yourself onto your feet and ran after the girl.

You had slightly longer legs, but she was fast. You only caught up to her because she screamed louder, after running into Buck leading a horse through the woods. She grabbed onto him while you caught your breath behind her.

“What? What happened?” Buck asked. You laid a supportive hand on Emily’s shoulder, and she turned back to you with tearful eyes.

“Mary,” you managed, despite the coarseness in your voice. “She’s…”

This isn’t real, you thought. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

“She’s dead,” Emily finished for you. “Someone killed her.”

Buck’s eyes widened in shock. All he could say was…

“Show me.”

Buck brought Mary’s body back to camp on the back of his horse. The three of you walked in silence all the way there. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her lifeless body. It was wrong. And if you did, you knew you’d collapse.

Emily was likely in shock as well. Her arm was looped through yours, though you weren’t sure who was steadying who.

Thanks to Carla, the police were already on the way to Sunny Day Excursions. When you reached the camp, Carla beelined for her daughter. Despite how happy she was to see her mom, Emily was a bit reluctant to let go of you, seeing how shaken you were, but you encouraged her wordless to go to her mother.

Carla pulled Emily into a tight hug, kissing the side of her head, and asked if she was all right. Emily just shook her head and pressed her face into her mom’s shoulder. Carla looked up at you with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” she said.

You gave her teary smile of your own. You couldn’t speak though, especially when Buck passed by with Mary still on the back of his horse. Sunny gasped and grabbed a blanket to cover the body with.

She then went to you, whispering, “You poor dear. Come ‘ere, sit by the fire.”

She covered your shoulders with another blanket and steered you to sit by the bonfire in the center of camp. You stayed there and stared at the flames. All the while, you didn’t feel the warmth. You didn’t feel the silent tears that slid down your face and dropped into your lap.

“Where’s Luke?” you heard Avery ask.

“That’s a good question,” said Sunny. She turned to her husband. “Buck?”

“I don’t know, but somebody better find him,” he replied grimly.

It was another hour before the police arrived.

You still hadn’t moved from your spot in front of the bonfire on a hard bench, but it was Cormack who gently asked you if you wanted to go back to your tent to relax until the police got around to talking to you about what happened.

You’d agreed, silently, and he helped you up. But you found that you could go no further than the couple of steps that brought you onto the platform outside of your tent. The tent you’d shared with Mary.

You couldn’t go in, and Cormack seemed to realize that. He helped you lower down to sit on the platform, with your dirty sneakers planted on the step below. He gave you a cup of hot tea as well, which you held with both hands and sipped slowly.

You only raised your head when you heard Emily’s voice exclaim in happiness. You watched her run to her father, the Sheriff. He welcomed his daughter into his arms and held her tight. Relief was painted all over his face. You heard the rumble of his voice asking her if she was all right. She just burrowed closer in the safety of his arms.

A blonde policewoman had come with him, along with a whole unit of officers. She went to question Buck and Sunny first, while Beau handled Emily, then Avery and Carla. It didn’t seem like a pleasant conversation, between the two men especially.

Don’t stare, you reminded yourself. You lowered your gaze to the dusty bottom stair between your feet. Your vision started to glaze over the longer you focused on that spot. You weren’t lost in thought. You were just…blank. This entire night still didn’t feel real.

Mary’s last words kept ringing through your mind…

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she’d said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back.”

You were interrupted from your reverie when two brown boots entered your line of vision. You looked up, and Beau Arlen was there to greet you with a look of sympathy. And yet, there was a professional set to his face that let you know you were about to be formally questioned about Mary’s death.

“Is that spot taken?” Beau asked, pointing to the space beside you on the platform. You shook your head and scooched over, so he could sit down. He sighed on his way there, greeting you with polite familiarity.

“Sheriff,” you nodded back. You set aside your mug of tea and crossed your arms, holding yourself against the chill.

You’d left the blanket by the bonfire, and your sweater had been stained with blood, after helping Buck set Mary’s body on the horse. You’d ripped the sweater off as soon as you got to camp, leaving you in just your undershirt.

“You need a jacket,” Beau remarked. He glanced back at your tent, as if he was wondering why you hadn’t gone inside to grab one. But his gaze was perceptive. Instead of asking, he shrugged out of his faux fur-lined leather jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

“Here, you can borrow this for now,” he said.

“Thank you,” you spoke in a small voice. You grasped one edge of the jacket and pulled it closer around you. It smelled like musky cologne and old leather.

Beau waved off his gesture of kindness.

“I hear you found my daughter in the woods and tried to get her back to camp,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

You glanced over at him, and tears once again shone in your eyes.

“I’m sorry she had to see…”

Beau’s gaze was heavy as he sighed and nodded again in agreement.

“I’m sorry you had to see it too,” he said. “And I’m sorry for your loss. For your friend.”

You took in a shuddering breath. New tears found familiar paths down your cheeks.

“Best friend, since college,” you said.

Beau took that in, before he asked you about the day’s events. You had to explain about Mary going missing first, then Emily, and finally Luke, who still hadn’t been found. You told everything you knew from your perspective.

When you were done, Beau reluctantly asked about the Mary and Luke situation. Your lips pursed, but your upset wasn’t at the sheriff. You knew he had to ask these questions.

“We argued about it,” you admitted. “Me and Mary. I warned her not to get involved with him, and the way Paige left camp was just one of many…but still, I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have let her go into the woods alone! I should’ve gone with her!”

By the end, your whole body wracked with sobs. You covered your face with your hands to try and get some semblance of composure, but you just couldn’t keep it together.

“Okay, okay,” Beau said gently. He laid a hand on your back and rubbed back and forth. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I am.”

You sucked in a few tremulous breaths, sniffling. You looked up at him with red, watery eyes. He gave you a half smile.

“Sorry,” he repeated, this time for the endearment. “Like I said, got a bad habit of doin’ that.”

You shook your head with a weak curve of your lips, despite how your lower lip wobbled.

“It’s okay,” you said.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

You didn’t think you’d ever be okay again.

AN: 😥 I'm sorry about Mary, but I promise, it's all for a purpose, besides following canon. But let me know what you think! There will be much more of the reader and Beau in the next chapter, though you may not expect how their next meeting comes about...

Next Time:

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice.

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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crescynnt · 5 months ago

Text

Some thoughts about Victim

More of a theory post than my usual analysis ones.

In the AvG reaction to the AvA Season 1 compilation, Alan said "I think I was getting too bored of Victim and needed a challenge" (2:33-2:40).

This implies that Alan had "played" with Victim enough times to be "bored" of him. The Victim we saw in AvA1 was only one of many times he'd been tortured by Alan.

It's safe to assume this was how Alan closed out of the Adobe after defeating Victim every time: by not saving changes.

But unsaved files aren't fully deleted from your computer immediately.

So, what if every time Alan redrew another 'Victim' to torture, it was the same Victim, just with a new body? And this lasted for years: he would be created, tortured, then shunted back into the void once Alan was done with him. And Victim would fight back each time, trying to escape his fate. He would try to learn all of Alan's moves or try to overpower him by immediately going to the library panel to clone himself.

But no matter what, Victim would lose. Every. Single. Time.

To the point where he wasn't even a challenge to Alan anymore and no matter how hard he tried, the time he had alive grew increasingly shorter as Alan started learning his tricks too.

Until he finally redirected his efforts into escaping the PC instead of overpowering his creator. After an unknown number of deaths- did he ever count them in the first place?- Victim finally found a way to escape into the outernet.

And in his absence, Alan decided to finally up the challenge and create The Chosen One.

Victim had the life he desired with the villagers in the outernet. It was great, and although he was traumatized by the death-and-rebirth cycle he was forced into, he was starting to heal.

Until Dark and Chosen came along, destroying the life he'd created for himself. Two who were actually able to beat Alan when he, despite spending so many lifetimes trying, could not. And instead of being grateful for the power they were given and the fate they escaped, they went on to hurt others.

It rubbed him the wrong way. He was the first creation- or at least, that's what he assumed- and all he was was a victim. So he vowed to go against his predetermined fate and prove them wrong-- prove to the world that he was more than just a victim.

But if his earlier lives were any indication, he couldn't beat Alan. That was just the way it was. But now, he was out of his control and had a major advantage: he knew Alan better than anyone else. He'd fought and died by Alan's hand for years, and he knew Alan's weaknesses like his own. He might not have been able to win back when he had nothing more than the tools on Alan's own turf, but if the arena changed and Alan was brought to the outernet, he was sure to win.

And just for the irony of it, he would beat Alan with his own animation tools.

#animator vs animation #ava victim #alan becker #some thoughts...#victim angst

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 10 months ago

Note

I was wondering if there were any fics where after season 1 or 2 Derek becomes a teacher at BHHS, preferably Sterek but if not than that's fine!

Hi anon! Raiven made this list and says "I couldn't find any for specifically after s1/2, so heres some teacher!derek with a side of sterek!"

Bad ideas (ans good results) by MysticRadio_Fivesososnotonfire (38/38 | 47,345 | Explicit | Sterek) Derek Hale is a 24 year old University professor in Beacon Hills and he’s always been a student favourite, well expect for one student. Stiles Stilinski, an snarky, arrogant and lazy 21 year old who must just be taking the classes for fun as he sure as hell ain’t passing them.

Teacher’s Pet by MemoriesArePain (30/30 | 43,496 | Explicit | Sterek) Stiles makes a profile on an app suggested by Scott after a year of not really dating post a break up from a mildly abusive relationship. After all, it's where Scott and Isaac met. What could go wrong? Stiles begins sexting a dominant guy on there, not realizing that it will turn out to be his law professor in a week when classes start. They both remain anonymous at first, and they continue on into the beginning of the school year. Things get complicated when they meet of course.

Derek makes a profile after his messy divorce, needs some fun and nothing complicated. Of course, it wouldn't stay that way. No matter how hard he tries he can't deny the feelings he's developing. He's screwed.

Know That Golden Rule by DerRumtreiber (9/15 | 38,636 | Explicit | Sterek) “So what, I’m just supposed to waltz back into their lives? And they’ll just accept me as their alpha again?”

“Yes!” Stiles practically shouts. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. I mean, ideally, you never would have left in the first place—”

“You told me to leave.”

Stiles ignores him. “ —never would have left in the first place. But you did. And now you’re back, and you’re going to fix what you broke.”

Or, the one where Derek leaves for a year and comes back with a teaching degree and a job at Beacon Hills High School.

When History Met Science by JossWritesSometimes (11/11 | 31,339 | Teen | Sterek) Professor Derek Hale has been teaching History for three years, and has painstakingly kept his private life, private. He would not consider himself a lonely man (no matter what his sister says). Until a certain biology professor, Stiles Stilisnki, arrives at the university. From mistaking him for a student, to becoming friends, could Stiles be the person that makes Derek want to give love another chance?

When the Teacher Met the Agent by JossWritesSometimes (7/7 | 16,828 | Not Rated | Sterek) Derek Hale has been a teacher for almost five years in NYC, but this year he is back in Beacon Hills and has taken his first job as a Kindergarten teacher. However, unlike in NYC, he has multiple Supernatural students, which is something he was not expecting. Especially a certain Stiles Stilinski, who smells...weird. Who is this boy who runs with wolves, and why can't he get him out of his head?

Snippets from them meeting to maybe, possibly, falling in love.

This is what I went to school for by TalesoftheEnchantedForest (1/1 | 10,906 | Explicit | Sterek) Stiles is a music teacher who's advice to a struggling Eli leads to meeting the sexiest man on Earth, falling for one of his students' dad (literally), and then dating the Spanish teacher at their school. Who are all the same guy, actually.

Stiles is set on making this relationship as romcom-worthy as possible. They just have to work on their communication first.

The New Teacher by TwistedAmusement13 & everchanginginnks (1/1 | 9,562 | Mature | Sterek) Derek, a world-weary English teacher pushing 40, is roped into a wet night out by his best friends. He finds himself charmed by a flirty college student who introduces himself as Stiles. They share an incredible night, but Stiles leaves before Derek wakes up. Thinking that he'll never see Stiles again, Derek bitterly gets ready for work at Beacon Hills High School. He's in for a bit of shock when he's introduced to the newly hired science teacher...

Trick or Treat, Mr. Hale? By literaryoblivion (1/1 | 5,247 | Explicit | Sterek) The tardy bell sounds, ringing loudly, and Derek stands from his desk.

“Alright, settle down,” he says, raising his voice to make sure his students that are still laughing and talking will hear him. “We’re picking up where we left off yesterday, page 138, the Civil War. Now, who can tell me what battle--”

The classroom door swings open, and all the eyes in the class snap to the movement. Derek tries not to react when he sees who it is, tries to make sure his face is a mix of sternness and disappointment when his infamously tardy troublemaker of a student waltzes in with a smirk.

“Stiles,” he says in a sigh.

the shape of my heart by Winchesterek (1/1 | 4,807 | Mature | Sterek) Stiles never thought he'd meet someone like Derek. Someone that was in a similar situation as he was - raising kids that weren't biologically his. It was even wilder because Derek was his god daughters first grade teacher and she was best friends with Derek's niece and nephew.

And Derek was hot. So hot that Stiles couldn't help ogling him every time they spent any amount of time around each other, including play dates and lunch in the school cafeteria with their kids. So Derek asking him out for Valentine's Day? That was just icing on the cake. Plus, Stiles was already head over heels for him.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teacher!derek #student/teacher #anon

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stop-talking · 1 year ago

Text

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 5)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 4k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, lots of fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, fluff, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, misogynistic undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

To celebrate a week of sobriety, you decide to surprise Derek with a cake.

Of course, since there isn't exactly a bakery on a remote island, you had to bake it yourself.

Which you did. Last night. Now you stand in the kitchen, wondering how exactly you should decorate the damn thing.

And what to write on it?

"Congrats, maybe now you'll live past 40!" No, that's morbid.

"Bye-bye blunts and blow!" Too cringy.

"Happy one-week?" Hmm... that sounds like an anniversary thing.

Damnit. Maybe this isn't a situation that calls for cake after all. You sigh and continue to mumble random slogans to yourself as you slather the icing on nice and thick.

It looks a little messy, but you're not exactly a professional baker. Which is unfortunate, because that's probably exactly what he's used to. Oh well. It's the thought that counts, right?

You just want to show him how proud you are. He really has changed a lot over the past week, surprising you every day with how... normal he can be. When he wants to, at least.

Picking up a piping bag of green icing, you start placing decorative dollops around the edge of the cake. Some of them are a little lopsided, but it doesn't look too bad overall.

What now? You mindlessly lick some stray icing off your wrist and stare down at the gaping blank space in the middle of the cake.

Eventually, you settle on three words.

"Proud of you."

It's fitting. He has a lot to be proud of. Not just the sobriety stuff, but everything.

He's been picking up new skills every day. You smile as you tidy up the cake decorating mess strewn about the counter, thinking back to your first time cooking with Derek.

He'd been cocky and overconfident, and so utterly dumbfounded when that pancake met a splatter-y death on the stovetop.

And yet, he still got back up and tried again. After relentless pestering from you, obviously, but it still counted.

You stand back and survey your work. Cream colored icing, green lettering, and... okay, maybe the hearts were a bit much. Hopefully he didn't get the wrong idea. You're just... proud. That's all.

Now the only thing missing is Derek. He went upstairs an hour or so ago for a nap, mumbling something about a headache. Poor thing.

He's been so damn clingy lately, always touching you in some way or another. It seemed almost subconscious for him at times. A hand on your shoulder, his knee against yours, an arm around your waist... no matter what you were doing, he had to have physical contact.

You smile as you make your way upstairs to his room. Maybe today would be the day you finally give him a proper hug.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek is woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of you calling out his name.

Usually, that would be a welcome sound. You're always such a good distraction from his withdrawals.

But right now? He just wants to sleep. No, more than that. He wants to hibernate, to go into a goddamn coma and never have to wake up again.

"Can I have another twenty minutes?" He croaks, lifting his head from the mess of pillows to call out to you.

Apparently he can't, because he hears the door click open, and you peek your head in through the crack.

Derek just groans and buries his face back into the bed. His sheets and blankets are a tangled mess, and he's twisted himself into an awkward angle throughout his nap.

"Come on, It's been over an hour already." Derek can feel the bed shift as you take a seat on the edge.

"Well I'm still fuckin' exhausted." He mumbles into the pillow, not bothering to turn and look at you.

"Derek. You should know by now I'm not gonna let you rot in bed all day."

The almost sarcastic tone in your voice is what finally breaks him. This week has been hell, and you're just mocking him.

He hasn't only given up drugs this week, but all of his servants and staff as well. It was one thing to help you with cooking, but yesterday you'd made him do laundry. LAUNDRY. What the fuck did he look like? A maid?

"Fuck off." He grumbles a little louder, pushing your hand away as you reach to play with his hair.

His sour attitude apparently doesn't deter you any, because he can hear you laughing at him. Derek grits his teeth and finally sits up, glaring at you.

"You're really fucking annoying, you know that? Always pissing me off."

The words leave his mouth before he can really think them through, and when he sees your smile fall he immediately regrets them.

Unfortunately, he's too tired, sick, and stubborn to take it all back. Even while his heart drops into his stomach, he continues to glare daggers at you.

"Alright... twenty more minutes." With that, you slide off his bed and quickly make your way to the door.

Fuck. As soon as the door closes, Derek is left in darkness, in more ways than one.

His stomach twists into knots and he can feel his chest grow heavy. He tries to scramble after you, but gets caught in the tangle of blankets and ends up falling to the floor instead.

God damn it. Why does he always have to be such a fuck up? You aren't annoying. You're the only thing keeping him sane right now, and he goes and pushes you away.

He collapses on the floor, sighing at the feeling of the cold hardwood against his cheek. A few tears roll down his face, and he laughs bitterly as a thought crosses his mind.

Your thighs make a much better pillow than the floor.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Twenty minutes later, you knock at Derek's door once more. He mumbles something incomprehensible, and you take that as permission to enter.

The sight in front of you makes you pause. What the hell is he doing? You flip the lights on just to make sure your eyes aren't playing tricks on you.

They aren't.

Derek Danforth lies on the floor next to his bed, groaning and blinking up at the harsh overhead light.

"Looks real comfortable down there." You tease, setting the glass of water you brought him on his bedside table before joining him on the floor.

He refuses to look at you, throwing his arm over his eyes and groaning.

"You need to eat. And drink. I brought you some water."

Derek stays quiet as you sit next to him and place a hand on his shoulder. His lips are pressed into a tight line, and he's still hiding behind his arm.

"Why are you so goddamn nice?" He finally groans.

"We've already had that talk."

"Okay, then why are you so goddamn nice even when I'm being a prick?"

You move his arm away from his face, and he doesn't fight it. When you finally get a look at him, it's obvious he's been crying.

Derek Danforth. Crying on his bedroom floor. That's a sight.

A sight that really breaks your heart, actually. His watery eyes threaten to make yours overflow as well, so you quickly wipe away his tears with the hem of your shirt.

"You think I expect you to go through three weeks of rehab and not be a prick sometimes?"

Derek actually chuckles at that, and finally meets your gaze. He looks absolutely wrecked.

"I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know."

You scoot a little closer, and gently tug at him. He takes the hint, placing his head on your lap with his cheek against your thigh.

Neither of you talk for a few minutes. He just closes his eyes and sighs as you play with his hair. Over the past week, you've learned what he likes. Tug at his curls in just the right way, and he...

Derek lets out a soft whimper and you smile. There it is.

"Wanna make it up to me?" You tease.

He glances up at you, an eager look in his eyes.

"How?"

"Get rid of this." You laugh and trail a finger along his jawline, feeling at his overgrown stubble. He most likely hasn't shaved since arriving here a week ago.

"What? You don't like it?"

"Do you?"

"..."

Derek pouts, pushing your hand away and feeling at it himself. His brow furrows adorably as he considers your words.

"It looks manly."

"There's a difference between manly and cave-man-ly."

He scoffs at that, but when you start poking and prodding at his face where his stubble has grown out, he cracks a smile.

"Fine, fine. You win. I'll shave."

He swats your intrusive hands away, then sits up and stretches.

Now that he's up and moving, you decide it's time to go. On your way out the door, you hesitate, remembering the reason you came to get him in the first place.

"Oh, don't take too long. I have a surprise waiting for you downstairs."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, feeling at his stubble. You're right, he does look better with a trim.

He knows he should head downstairs, but his heart is beating a million times a second, and not even from withdrawals.

That little comment about a surprise? God damnit. You're teasing him. You have to be. How could you say something like that and not expect him to get excited?

Derek sighs and tucks his boner into the waistband of his boxers, then looks at himself in the mirror one more time to make sure it isn't noticeable. It's not... mostly.

Damnit. He could probably take a few minutes and rub one out, but he'd absolutely die of embarrassment if you walked in on him AGAIN.

He groans and turns to leave. Oh well. It's hidden well enough, and you'd already seen worse. Plus... maybe if this surprise is anything like his fantasies, he'd have an opportunity to use it.

"Oh, wait wait wait!" You scramble over to him as he trudges downstairs, keeping him from entering the living room.

"Are you gonna tell me what my surprise is?"

"No! Then it wouldn't be a surprise at all. Close your eyes."

Derek does as instructed, shutting his eyes tight. When feels you grab his hand and start to tug him along, he can't help but sneak a peek.

"I swear... if your Idea of a surprise is to walk me into a wall-"

"Oh, shut it." You scoff and clap your free hand over his eyes.

"Just trust me. And no peeking."

Derek grumbles, but he does trust you. A lot more than he lets on. So, he blindly stumbles along as you lead him into the... kitchen? Yeah, he's pretty sure he's in the kitchen.

"Okay, you can look." You uncover his eyes, but keep a tight hold on his hand as you beam at him.

"What do you think?"

What does he think?

Derek chokes up at the sight before him, and has to turn his head so you don't see the way his eyes are watering again.

A cake. You baked him a fucking cake to say you're proud of him. And he called you annoying.

"It's to celebrate being a week sober." You explain, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of his face.

He squeezes your hand tightly, but can't get any words out.

"A week." He whispers, blinking back tears. Fuck, has it been a week already? It feels like hardly a day has passed.

"Oh, love. C'mere."

Derek lets himself be pulled into your arms. He groans from your touch, melting into the embrace and burying his face in your neck.

God, this is perfect. He's wanted to be held like this for so long, but now that it's finally happening... he can't help but feel guilty.

"I'm such an ass." He mumbles into your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

"Not always." You laugh softly and pull him a little closer.

Too close. He can feel your breasts pressing against him... fuck. Any closer and you might be able to feel what he has tucked away.

"Not always?" Derek scoffs, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes.

"Is that really the best you've got to make me feel better?"

"What? You want me to lie?"

"Maybe."

He stares into your eyes, heart pounding in his chest as he suddenly realizes just how close you are. It takes everything in him not to lean in and bridge the few inch gap between the two of you.

"You look nice like this."

Derek can feel his face heating up as you cup his face with a hand. Shit, If you don't stop soon he might actually just kiss you.

"Like what?" He asks breathlessly, mesmerized by your touch.

"With a trim." You smile and run your thumb along his his stubble, eyes trailing from his jaw to his lips.

For a second, Derek is sure you're going to kiss him. He tilts his head ever so slightly in anticipation, and his eyes flutter shut.

"So... you want a piece of cake?" You clear your throat, suddenly dropping your arms and breaking the embrace.

Of course you weren't going to kiss him. Derek gives you a half-hearted smile and nods, trying to hide just how crushed he feels.

"Yeah, sure. Cake."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"No, love, you're supposed to do the edge pieces first."

You chuckle as Derek angrily fumbles with two puzzle pieces. They quite obviously don't match, but he's trying to force them together anyways.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware puzzles had rules." He scoffs, dramatically tossing the little cardboard chunks across the table.

You'd dragged him out to the porch for a little fresh air, since he insisted he was too tired to make the five minute walk down to the beach.

"Well, they do. The biggest rule is don't throw the puzzle pieces, or you'll lose them." You laugh and continue flipping pieces over so they're facing upwards.

It hasn't been very long since you started the puzzle, and Derek already looks bored.

"Is this supposed to be fun?" He grumbles, helping you flip over pieces with one hand, the other finding it's way to rest on top of yours.

You wonder if he even notices he's doing it again. Touching you like that. You've gotten used to it by now, and usually just let it happen.

"Oh, come on. You gonna let a puzzle get the best of you, Danforth? A child could do this."

Derek makes a face and gestures to the sea of little cardboard scraps scattered across the table.

"A child could do a one thousand piece puzzle?" He scoffs.

"Okay, maybe not..." You laugh and adjust your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

"But I'm sure you can do it."

Derek's face flushes pink, and you aren't sure whether its from the praise or the way you're so casually holding his hand. Probably both. But so what if you're holding his hand? He's the one who started it.

He just mumbles something under his breath and looks back down at the table, suddenly very motivated to help you pick through the pieces.

His hand doesn't leave yours.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek wakes up from a deep sleep to the sound of your voice and the feeling of your nails gently scratching his scalp.

He gasps and tries to sit up, but finds he's stuck.

Er, not stuck, just... underneath you?

"Come on, love. You slept through nearly the whole movie." You laugh softly and start to nudge him off your lap.

Derek finally remembers what's going on, and pulls his arm out from under you. Apparently he'd tucked it beneath your knees while he slept, because he sure didn't remember doing it.

"Told you a chick flick would put me to sleep." He mumbles, fumbling to sit up. He finds his other arm is also stuck, wedged in between your waist and the couch.

"Sure made yourself comfortable, huh?" You tease, scooting forward and freeing him.

"Shut up." Derek reluctantly pulls away from you, sitting up and looking at you with a dazed expression. He wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth and groans. That really was a good nap.

"It's just so easy to fall asleep on you." The words come out before he can really think over them, and he freezes in embarrassment. Thankfully, you seem to take it in a different way than he meant it.

"Oh, am I that boring? I put you to sleep?"

"Exactly. I'm yawning already." He teases, letting out an exaggerated yawn that only earns him an elbow to the ribs.

"Hmph. Next time you can fall asleep somewhere else."

"But you're so damn comfortable." He whines, scrambling after you as you make your way upstairs. You can't leave him yet. You just can't.

"Well, your bed is plenty comfortable as well. Go to sleep."

Derek is suddenly struck with a thought, and takes your hand before you can slip away into your room for the night.

"What if..." He starts, placing his other hand on your hip and pulling you a little closer.

"What if I don't want to sleep in my bed tonight?"

You give him an incredulous look, and Derek can hardly believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Fuck, you're going to reject him. He just knows it.

"My bed?" You ask, raising an eyebrow and looking down at the way his hand is gripping your hip.

Derek can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He's being WAY too forward, and probably seems like a creep. Damnit.

"I... I just won't be able to sleep without you. I know it." He stutters, stumbling over his words. It's the truth, though. The only time he's been able to sleep peacefully lately is when he's touching you.

"Derek, love..." You chuckle and start to brush his hands away, taking a step back.

Fuck. He needs to show you how serious he is about this.

"Please? Just for tonight?" He grabs both of your hands, intertwining your fingers with his as he meets your gaze. You said he has puppy-eyes or something, right? Derek does his best to look pitiful.

It's not hard to do. He really does feel pitiful in this moment, begging you so blatantly. He might as well get on his fucking knees.

"Fine." You finally relent, groaning and gently shoving Derek aside as you head into your bedroom.

"But I hope you know I kick in my sleep."

"I don't mind taking that risk."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

After quickly getting ready for bed, you settle down under the covers while Derek stands awkwardly to the side.

"Well? You gonna join me?" You ask, patting the spot next to you.

God, how did you get roped into this? Him and those damn puppy eyes. He's so hard to say no to.

"Oh, uh, yeah." Derek scrambles to climb into bed beside you. He looks like he's having just as much trouble believing what's happening.

"Sleeping with you wasn't really in my job description, you know. I'm complaining to your mother after this."

"Please don't." He groans, squirming and getting comfortable under the shared blanket. He keeps his distance, seeming content just to be in the same bed as you.

"You gonna sleep in that?" You lift the blanket to peek at his outfit, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Yeah? What's wrong with it?" He pouts and tugs the blanket back down, acting self-conscious.

"Nothing, just... You aren't going to be hot?"

"Are you trying to get me to take my pants off, sweetheart?"

"God, no. I've seen enough of that."

Your teasing clearly gets to him, because he rolls over to face away from you, grumbling. You swear his ears are a little pink. Is he blushing?

"Oh, love. I'm just messing with you." You scoot a little closer to him, and put a hand on his waist.

"I know." He whispers, breath hitched.

"Is it okay if I do this?"

He groans when you get even closer, spooning him from behind. Your arm wraps around his waist and you press your entire body against his.

"M-maybe I will get hot..." He mumbles, but makes no effort to push you away. Instead, he completely melts under your touch, relaxing against the pillow.

"Keep your pants on, Danforth."

"Yes ma'am."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek has been in bed with you for what feels like hours, (though really only around half of one), and he still can't believe what's happening.

Your arm is around his waist, holding him tight while the rest of your body is pressed up against him. He can feel your breasts pressing into his back, and your lips on his neck.

He almost wishes you'd kiss him, but that would probably send him over the edge.

And God, is he dangerously close to the edge right now.

His heart is pounding, heartbeat in synch with the throbbing in his pants. He's been hard ever since you cuddled up to him, but no way in hell is he going to ask you to stop. Not ever. Even if it kills him.

Scratch that. It is going to kill him. Derek can't help but let out a whimper as his dick twitches in his sweatpants.

Fuck. Your hand is right there, on his stomach. If you'd just slide it down a little...

"What's wrong?" You mumble, giving him a tight squeeze and nuzzling against the back of his neck.

"O-oh. Just... headache... Don't feel good..."

He feels like a total prick for lying to you, but what is he supposed to say? Yeah, totally fine, just horny as fuck? He'd rather die.

"Aww... I've got you, love."

Derek's breath hitches as you throw your leg over him. He can feel your thigh pressed up against his side, and the way you squeeze him feels heavenly.

He whimpers again, and starts to squirm slightly in your grasp. Fuck, if you keep this up he's not going to be able to control himself.

You continue to gently squeeze, rub, and cuddle him, whispering words of comfort with your lips pressed against the back of his neck. He can feel your hot breath on him, your breasts against his back, your hand on his stomach, your leg wrapped around his...

He can feel everything. And it's driving him insane.

Okay, okay, fuck. He can fix this. He just needs a quick release. That's all.

Derek starts to form a plan in his head, fueled by desperation and lust. Once he's mostly sure you're asleep, he slips his hand down into his boxers.

Biting back a moan, he slowly starts to jerk himself off. Painfully slow. He can't risk waking you up.

It's so fucking hard to not go faster, or move, or make a sound. Fuck, it's just so hard. Period.

He didn't really think this through, huh? Asking to sleep in your bed. Next time he'll jerk off first. If there is a next time. Damnit. If you catch him like this, you'll never speak to him again. He's sure.

Trembling, he accidentally lets a small whine slip out. Even with the absolute minimum amount of stimulation, he's close to finishing.

"Hnngh... Derek? You okay?"

Fuck. You're awake.

"Huh? Yeah, just... nightmare..." He chokes the words out, hand still wrapped around his cock as he slowly milks out a steady trickle of precum.

"It's okay." You whisper, holding him even tighter. "I'm right here."

Yeah, and that's the his damn problem. Your words and touch send him spiraling over the edge, and he bites his lip with nearly enough force to draw blood as he comes in his sweatpants.

It's not the most satisfying orgasm, seeing as he could barely touch it... but it still feels so much better than being that fucking horny with no release.

"Thank you..." Derek groans, praying that you don't ever discover the double meaning behind his words.

He had originally planned to sneak away and clean himself up, but with the way you're clinging to him...

Fuck. Guess he's sleeping in wet sweatpants.

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Author's note: Oh my goddd, sorry for such a long wait on this chapter!!! I've been wanting to write this scene FOREVER, but I also wanted to get it right!!

I love putting Derek in uncomfortable situations. Not sorry.

Also its crazy to me that I've written 16 thousand words of fanfic for a character that had 20 minutes of screen time and then fucking DIED 💀

Anyways... expect the next chapter in 2-3 days. Thanks for all the love and support!!!

Part 6

#josh hutcherson #jhutch #jhutch1992 #derek danforth #josh hutcherson x reader #derek danforth x reader #josh hutcherson x you #derek danforth x you #derek danforth smut #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson fanfic #fluff and angst #slowburn fic

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