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cqsuanla · 3 years ago

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fury shakes the rafters

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. And that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean.

(inspired by jennifer’s body)

additional notes: mommy kink, dom/sub, bloodplay(?), dacryphilia, uhh pussy spanking, choking, unhealthy relationship, terrible aftercare

title from a song suggested by an anon: nobody by the crane wives

(ao3)

The light in the stairwell flickers, but it doesn’t make a difference, dim and dirty as it is. It buzzes distantly in your ears. You’re too focused on taking the steps two at a time to notice. You hold your groceries to your chest and fish your keys out of your pocket. If you were strong like Nat, you might just have knocked the door clean of its hinges with the force of your body. Instead, it crashes loudly into your wall, and you nearly fall on your face from the momentum.

In a bid to gain purchase on your wall, you sweep your coat rack over, and you stumble over it. The clatter makes you wince — you hope she’s in a good mood. It’s hard for her to process stimuli when she’s weak. You scramble onto your hands and knees, shoving scattered boxes and cans into the grocery bag.

Then, the rhythmic thud-thud of footsteps. You pause, exhaling as your eyes close.

“Drink?” in a monotone.

Yikes. You open your eyes, biting your lip. Steel-toed boots. You’ve told Nat a million times that this is a shoes-off apartment. She never listens, and you never argue more. Nat stays; she’s the only one who’ll stay. You can’t drive her away.

Her right boot rises, scraping against the floor, and you flinch. It just kicks a cereal box away so it can nudge at the shopping bag. The way she says your name, evenly, firmly, has you blinking rapidly, has your hands automatically shooting to the bag, following her prompt. Thank god the bottles are fine. You don’t know what you’d do if they had shattered.

You wiggle a beer out of the pack, and only then do you dare to make eye contact.

“Hi,” you murmur.

She gives you a brief glance, impassive, before snatching the bottle from your hand and returning to her spot on the armchair. “That fucking coat rack.” She flicks the cap off your side table, grungy and scratched up for this very reason. The cap bounces off the wall and disappears under the couch. “Just move it further in. You never listen.”

You did, weeks ago. You don’t say so.

The coat rack came with the place, and it was nice, so you refused to get rid of it. Nat hated it, hated that it was so close to the door in your already bite-sized entryway, but never enough to throw it out herself. But you did move it because her complaints were valid, and you wanted her to like being here with you, living here with you. Anyway, she stopped complaining afterwards. Not that you think she noticed — you supposed it was a minor inconvenience to her, the way a fly was, annoying when it was in your face but non-existent once it stopped bothering you.

Quietly, you move your groceries to the kitchen island, putting everything but your new medical supplies away. There are dirty plates in the sink, which you’ll wash after you make yourself dinner. You wonder what she’s eaten – you’d just bought two new steaks, but Nat likes a bowl of strawberry ice cream now and then.

The TV channel switches in the background. Nat snorts, and you peek around the wall to catch a report on the gruesome series of murders that have been happening lately. People in the neighbourhood hardly went out anymore, too afraid of the dark now. It would scare you too if you weren’t well aware you’d never fall victim. Nat was with you, after all, and you were with her.

You would be with her for as long as she’d let you. So, what if she was the monster in the dark? So what? It was Nat. Your Nat. She came back to you, talked to you, fucked you. It’s not like she was disembowelling you in some grimy alleyway. She kept most of the violence away from you because she cared. Anyway, like everyone else, she had to eat. You couldn’t fault her for that.

You’re pulling the gauze out of its packaging when Nat scoffs loudly at the news. They must’ve insulted her because she clicks the TV shut, practically inhales half her bottle and flings the remote onto the couch.

Then, she sets her sights on you, meek behind the counter, and raises an eyebrow. “Honey, the hall’s a mess. Clean it up.”

You frown. “You’re still hurt.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll eat tomorrow, and it’ll be fine.”

You don’t think so. The longer Nat doesn’t eat, the worse it gets. It’s how she’s in this mess in the first place. Nat’s ethereal after a feeding, next to omnipotent. But the guy she picked to eat last week turned out to be some sort of track star because he had booked it at the first sign of trouble, and she’d been forced to retreat when the sirens started blaring. The day after that, she picked a local thug as her next meal, and she’d been caught off guard by the switchblade. So, here she is: slumped on your couch and stitched up sloppily.

Her hair is limp, skin wane and dry, and in a bad enough mood that you can basically feel it every time you’re within a two-meter radius of her.

Her physical weakness emboldens you a little, makes you think you can get away with a bit of stubbornness. You pick up the gauze and tape and round the corner. A car speeds by, high beam making Nat’s eyes glint a deep green in the dark. The green follows you the whole way until she has to crane her head around to watch you slip her tank top off a shoulder.

Those eyes weren’t like that before when you first started dating. You don’t mind the changes, though. Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded.

“You don’t want to listen?” she asks, almost conversationally.

You know better. You clench and unclench your fist. Shakily, you lift it and tuck a hair behind Nat’s ear, hoping foolishly that it will placate her.

“Baby,” says she, like a gentle mother to a misbehaving child, “you should really listen.”

You trace the bumps of her stitches, staring hard at her shoulder so you won’t have to see that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean.

“At least answer me.”

“No, Nat,” you mutter, undoing the bandages on her bicep. “I don’t want to listen.”

To her credit, she lets you fix her up. Methodically, silently, you clean her wounds and rewrap them in new bandages. She doesn’t get in the way unless it’s to take a swig of her drink.

When you’re done with her arms and back, you move to her front. She’s got an ugly gash on her calf, bruised midway from where the man had kicked her bleeding leg. You imagine this is causing her the most pain, not just physically. Nat’s not great with sitting still. She’s independent to a fault, enjoying control to the point that it’s probably some sort of diagnosable complex, and this restriction on her mobility has her restless and irritated.

Looking down at her, at the space between her knees, you wonder if she’ll cooperate with you. The last time you tried to clean her leg, she’d torn your duvet in half and has since refused to let you look at it. But Nat tilts her head, coy, and gestures toward the space in front of her with her bottle.

“Scared?” she whispers.

You glance at her face just in time to catch her tongue tracing the jagged end of a canine. Mutely, you shake your head. She smiles wide.

“Liar.”

Of course. You’re always scared of her. For her, too. But you don’t think it matters; it doesn’t change anything. You just want to help her, be good for her. Anyway, she’s trying to get a reaction out of you. You refuse to take the bait, raising your eyebrows and wiggling the bandages in your hand.

“Fine.” With a roll of her eyes, she parts her legs.

As if dealing with a feral animal, you move slowly, cautiously, afraid to make sudden movements lest she starts getting violent. You squat down and reach for the cuff of her sweatpants.

“Ah, ah.” She slides the leg back, staring down her nose at you. You pause. “Kneel, baby.”

Her eyes — did the ring of green get thinner? Your lips part, anticipation beginning to seep into your body, and you comply. Once you’re settled, looking up at her, she makes that same careless gesture with her bottle. A go-ahead.

As you work, she shifts to put her beer on the table and then combs a hand into your hair. You tense, eyeing her nervously, but she only watches you, imperious, intense, and remains silent. Nevertheless, you pick up the pace, tossing the antiseptic aside and winding the gauze around her pale calf.

She’s startlingly warm under your hands. Ever since… whatever happened to her — she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the details — she’s run hotter than ever. You can’t sleep under a blanket with her anymore unless you’re shirtless; the heat would be unbearable. Not that Nat has any complaints about that.

“All done,” you murmur.

The lack of reaction from Nat gives you the courage to lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the top of her knee. The hand in your hair rewards you with a gentle scratch, and you can’t help melting into a smile. She’s still got that air of arrogance about her when you look up at her, but she’s not glaring. Which is why it comes entirely as a surprise when she clenches a fistful of hair in her hand, yanking your head back, and slaps you clean across the face with her other hand.

You take the full brunt of her palm with a cry, almost toppling over were it not for the grip on your hair. Your cheek burns, and so does your eyes. Mostly from pain, partly from the shock of it, maybe a little from shame when you realize you’re getting wet from the rough treatment.

Nat tuts. “Crying already?”

You imagine you look pretty pathetic on your knees for her, eyes glassy.

“Don’t give me those eyes, baby; you know I can’t help myself.”

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know,” Nat says gently, tipping your head back again so you can see the false sincerity on her face. “You can fix this, you know?”

Your eyebrows furrow, thoughts racing a mile a minute to puzzle out what she means.

“Don’t think so hard. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll show you how, dumb baby,” she coos as she nudges your chin with the knuckle of her finger, and you can’t help flushing deeply at that. Then, she offers a hand, and you take it, and she tugs you up into a straddle on her lap. “Come here.”

You instinctively wind your arms around her neck, clinging on. Beneath you, she tenses and lets out a low rumbling sound that resonates deep in her chest. You inhale sharply.

Teeth. Sharpened to deadly points. Poised over your neck. Nat’s breath comes short and hot against your skin, and her tongue, when it peeks out, drags wetly across your skin.

This has happened once before; the first night she’d come back changed. Like before, she noses at your flushed skin, teasing you with the possibility of damage, and trails her teeth down to your traps. Back then, she hadn’t bitten you. She won’t now, you think, you hope.

She sighs again, hovering over the meat of your shoulder and prodding her teeth against you. Doesn’t break the skin.

“Don’t make it worse for yourself. Are you scared?”

This time, you nod. Nat’s lips curve into a smile, and her hold on your thighs tighten enough to bruise.

“You should listen, sweetheart,” she says against you. The front of her teeth scrapes over you when she speaks, leaving red marks behind. “I hurt you less when you’re good. Don’t you know?”

“How can you be in the mood?” you wonder, burying your face into the crook of her neck. “You’re half dead.”

“Barely.”

It would take a lot more to kill Nat like this. Anyway, how could you be in the mood when your girlfriend’s cut up like this?

Nat stands abruptly, ignorant to your yelps and complaints, and dumps you back onto the couch in quick succession. Before you can even register what’s happened, she’s yanked your bottoms down to your ankles and has climbed between your legs.

Even after that, you don’t get the chance to speak. She wraps her hand around your throat and pins you to the cushions. You grab onto her wrist.

Her body bears down, and you break into a sweat, in small part due to nerves, some part because she’s shoving her hand up your shirt to grab roughly at your bra, but mostly because she’s near scalding. You’re convinced her blood runs at a constant boil now. You’ve grown to love the heat, though. With her, pleasure comes white-hot, and you’d want it no other way.

“Nat-”

“No,” she growls, and you get an eyeful of her monstrous teeth. She flexes both hands, cutting off your airway and squeezing your breast painfully. You whimper, wound tight as a coil. “Listen to me, baby.”

You look at her through hazy eyes.

“Those eyes again. God, I love you like this.” Foolishly, your heart clenches at those words. She rucks your shirt up and claws her nails down your front. Beads of blood bloom from the thin scratches she leaves behind. “You’re beautiful when I hurt you.”

Her hand nearly crushes your throat closed, but then she releases you, and you suck air in desperately. Your hands, shaken off her arm, reach for the sides of her head. “Nat,” you croak, tasting the salt from your tears on your lips. “Nat.”

She shakes her head, descending on your chest. It hurts – badly. “Be good for mommy.”

“Mommy,” you gasp out, arching into her mouth. She ignores your pert nipples, electing instead to lick and suck at the burn between your breasts. “Please, please.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. Oh, her teeth are still out. “Hands above your head.”

You obey, another sad sound crawling out of your abused throat.

The dark pits of her eyes drink in the sight of you, face crumpled in pain and need. A thumb wipes up the last of your blood, and she delights in smearing it across your cheek.

“Messy baby, clean up after yourself. It’s basic,” she chides, thumb still rubbing at your face as if she were fixing up some runny mascara. “Be good now.”

You don’t dare to speak, just nod and look pleadingly up at her. Your core aches from neglect.

She makes quick work of that, reaching down to feel the slick between your thighs. Humming, she smirks and very deliberately rubs her middle finger over your clit. You jerk up into her, mouth falling open even as you strangle your moan.

“I could do anything to you, and you’d still want me.”

Again, you nod.

“Where did my little liar go?” she baits. You shake your head. “Say ‘thank you, mommy, for letting me breathe.’”

It takes you a moment to gather the brain cells and say: “Thank you, mommy.”

Her smile widens, teeth back to normal. “Again, for the lesson.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

She brings her hand down on your cunt, full strength. You scream, jolting away from her. Well, you would have if she hadn’t pressed you down by the chest, entirely uncaring about the wound she’d left there. Tears leak out the sides of your eyes, trickling into your hairline.

“Thank me for that too,” she demands.

“Thank you,” you cry around a hiccup.

One more spank, and another, and another. Your legs kick uselessly against the cushions, body twisting after every awful smack.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Your hole clenches around nothing, slick leaking onto the couch. Then, two fingers dip into you, and Nat thrusts them up hard and fast. She’d shoved them in on a contraction, and it hurts for a second before she’s curling her fingers into the velvet of your walls.

She makes a pleased sound. “Tight as always. Makes me want to tear you in half, baby.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “Th-” She starts up a fast pace, digging her fingertips into your front wall. “Thank you!”

Her cheek rests on your chest, listening to the thunder of your heart. “We should try that big one.” Impossibly, your heart rate quickens at the thought, and you manage to shake your head. She laughs, the sound sharp and cruel, and music to your ears. “Maybe another time then.”

She sits up then, still working her fingers into your cunt, and moves her other hand to your mons. She pets gently over your labia, a sharp contrast to the vicious pace she’s keeping up. Your head spins.

“My baby,” she breathes, “good enough to fucking eat.”

But she parts your folds to press her fingers into your clit, circling them once, twice, thrice, and you’re so close. So desperately close.

She leans down, near delicate in her movements, and licks into your mouth. You taste copper and beer and the faintest sweetness. Urgently, you try to kiss back.

If she’s mean, she’d pull back and deny you the chance to come with her mouth on yours.

She must think that you’ve suffered enough, though, because she rubs her thumb at your clit and drives her fingers deeper into you, and you push up as far as you can into her body with a scream. You’re swallowed in molten heat, pleasure stripping away at you until you’re just bones on the couch.

When you come to, Nat’s pulling out some bandages for your chest. You’re too tired to do or say anything, forced into silence by her dominance.

She smiles at you, still not kind, but it doesn’t look bestial like before. Maybe just self-satisfied. She strokes your sweaty hair as she fixes you up, shushing you if you moan quietly from aftershocks or pain. You are in a lot of pain, bruised and scratched up as you are.

“Good girl,” she says when she’s done.

Finally, you muster the energy to grab her hand and say, “Thank you.”

She lets you hold on for a few seconds before pulling away. “Sure.”

You wish she’d hold you for a bit, but you don’t vocalize it. She’s been through too much in the last few days; you shouldn’t burden her—

“Don’t be fucking needy,” she says, suddenly and harshly. Your face must have given you away.

“I don’t mean to be,” you mutter, bringing your arm up to cover your eyes. Feeling stupid, feeling mad that you feel stupid, you say: “It would just be nice if you’d stay for a bit.”

A hand grabs your arm, yanking it away from your head, and you’re treated to a view of her scowl. “Where would I go?”

You didn’t mean it that way, but you don’t know how to get out of this hole you’ve dug yourself. “I-I don’t know.”

Out of nowhere, her hand slaps your cunt again, overstimulated, sore, puffy. You groan, curling in on yourself and hugging your knees to your chest.

“Fuck, Nat.”

She takes the opportunity to sit down on the end of the couch, where your legs once were. The TV turns back on, and you hear her take a sip from her can of beer. “Clean up the hall later.”

At least she stayed.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #dark!natasha x reader #dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark #nat #mw #aaaaaaaaaaanyway

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fallenstellar · 3 years ago

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Grian, if he was in Empires SMP

Hello, instead of napping earlier, I had a brainrot and thinky-think if Grian was in Empires SMP.

Buckle up, because I got everything to tell about his Empire.

EMPIRE'S THEME

Grian chosen biome will be Jungle, I just think Grian's bases are always or mostly exposed to the open environment that I figured out he should try building in a dense jungle. Jungle will be also important in his empires lore.

Since Grian is always depicted as a bird, why not give him bird privilege and have a bird empire. Yes, pesky parrot empire, if you will. Well, hybrids. They fly, they have wings, and most importantly, they are annoying.

Since Grian is Grian, his plan for his empire will be built in a massive tree similar to Fwhip's hardcore tree build, BUT BIGGER. Since of course, this is Grian. From the sea level to the world height, he builds a big goddamn tree.

All of his housing and other utility buildings will be in the tree, either hanging or engraved in the trunks. His build style will be huts with leaves as their roofs. Most of the housings have open doors and open windows so they could fly in quickly. Most of them are wide rather than lengthy.

EXPORT

Grian's export will be gunpowder and I GOT A WHOLE LORE FOR IT.

Gunpowder is actually the dried version of what they call "flight dust". V similar to pixie dust. Since it's only useful for Grian's empire, they have to dry it to turn it into gunpowder, which is a much more valuable resource to other empires.

Flight dust is what they used for flying. Since it's scientifically impossible for an adult man to fly even with wings double its size, they need ✨ magic ✨. They apply it whenever they are taking off and sprinkle to themselves if they feel their wings slowly tiring out.

EMPIRE'S HIERARCHY

I've also got lore for the empire's hierarchy. There are three social hierarchy, land workers, middle men, and nobles.

Land Workers

Land workers are citizens with only one pair of wings. They are often seen in the roots level of the big tree, among the jungle trees. These people are either agricultural workers or miners.

They have only one pair of wings because they don't really need to fly very often. Most of the time they are on the ground, working.

Even though these people sound like peasants, Grian has a high regard to them because according to him, "They are the source of nourishment and supports the kingdom on its roots, literally and figuratively." Without them, the empire will possibly fall.

Since they only have one pair of wings, they can only reach the area for the middle men and unable to fly over to the nobles' branches since their wings are too weak.

Middle Men (Catalysts)

Also known as merchant or catalysts. They are described to be the deliverers of goods to both the ground level citizens to the nobles. They are called middle men as such because they are the connection between these two hierarchy.

These citizens are often seen in the lower half of the tree.

Their area is full of market places and workshops. Sometimes their housing is combined with their shops.

They have two pairs of wings, giving them the advantage to fly to the area of the nobles.

Nobles

They are the top of the hierarchy. They have three pairs of wings, giving them the advantage of reaching Grian's castle.

They are not in the hierarchy through blood. This tier belongs to those who worked near Grian, aka his government.

Knights, head of department, manager of export and imports, and the likes are the member the nobles.

The logic behind the numbered wings are it's harder to soar in higher altitudes.

A citizen could get another pair of wings if they are exposed on different potency of flight dust. The higher the flight dust on the tree, the higher its potency. Basically this dust flows through the tree and slowly lose potency as it goes down.

It mean Grian has four pairs of wings to resemble he is the king.

That's all my brain had. If you enjoyed it and is interested for more, send me an ask or reblog this!! 🥰

#grianmc #grian #empires smp #empires headcanons #grian headcanon

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is-nini · 4 years ago

Note

I already require more daddy King Zhongli

Please make it happen ;-; I would be very grateful

Thankyou for requesting ლ(^o^ლ) please enjoy, sorry if there's any mistake or typo and.. I'm sorry if some parts is not to your liking, feel free to point out

What if..

King! Zhongli x reader. (part 2!)

Warning:

Smut, 18+, brat taming, size kink, spanking, pure filth!

Word count:3k worddddd

"This is your cone accompanied by f/f cake with f/f ice cream your highness".

A maid comes towards you as you look at your feet on the garden that seems to be sad alongside you, your tears threating to fall out, the maid looks at you in panic- she tried everything to make you smile, giving you sweets that you like, making your favourite drinks, trying to bring you out to go on a plushie shopping spree but nothing cheer you up.

The cause of your sadness is Zhongli has been so busy, he didn't mean to neglected you but.. he cannot play or spend time with you currently.

Whenever you try and come to his work room the door is always locked and the guards keeps telling you that he is busy.. because you're a good girl you listen to the guard and doesn't come back to his work room as you walked with a gloomy face, even the guards feels bad but- an order is an order.

The castle maids saw your gloomy face and try to cheer you up but.. you ended up with sadness on your face everytime.

The maid wishes that the cakes and sweets will bring you back but- no. The maid sigh and pat your head, trying to make you smile even though it is not proper for a maid to do so.

"Call me if anything happened your highness".

She said and walked away, leaving you in your own sad world without the affection of Zhongli. You eat the cake that seems to taste bland, you sigh and jump out from the chair and walking inside the castle gloomy aura around you.

Three maids is peaking out from behind the wall as you walk with sadness. They can't bear their princess like this.. even though the maids and you have a different status, you never treat them like a slave, you would go around the castle to see what to do- even if they say they don't need help, you're always willing to.. with the smile that can melt the coldest heart.

That's it, they are determined to help you anyway they could! Even if it means going against boundaries and possibly getting to be in jail, they will help you they don't care.

They started to talk on how to make you happy again and it seems there's only one way..

~~~~~~

A knock was heard on the door as Zhongli sigh and rub his temple with a frown on his face.

"Please leave at once- can't you see im busy?".

He asked more like annoyed by the fact that someone is annoying him, the maid behind the door is trembling, after she lose a bet with her friend she now is the one who must talk to Zhongli about you. She gulp as the guard looks at her using a look that said "welp, goodbye".

"I-its u-urgent Y-you're highness".

She stutter out. Zhongli glare a little at the door and sigh loudly as he went back to his paperwork.

"Hurry".

That's all he said as the door opened revealing the maid, he looks at the trembling maid, a little bit annoyed.

"What is so important that it needs to cut my work?".

He asked, she gulp again and play with her finger.

"T-the p-princess".

Just those two word and that's all it took to break Zhongli's hard gaze in to worry and fear.

"What happen? Is she okay?! Is there someone trying to sneak in to her room again?!".

He asked as he cleans up his table and stands up with worry in his eye. The maid shake her head and proceed to explain what has been happening to you.

How you're sad.. how you're aura is filled with despair and so on and so forth.

Zhongli just looks at her unbelievable is swirling in his eye. He completely forgot about how time has passed by since he last take care of you. His work important but you're so much money important, he can always think of something to use as a reason to not finished his work anyway.

He rushed passed the maid to go to your room as the maid sigh in relief and the guard puts a thumbs up for her.

His heart is beating so fast it felt as if he wanted to burst to millions pieces. He can't believe he forgot about you-! He just hope you can forgive him.

You played with your dolls with gloomy face but stopped when you heard a knock on the door.

"P-princess? Open up please".

Zhongli! You wanted to be happy but no. You have your own plan! To be bratty, to not listen to him and make him as sad and guilty as possible that's your revenge. So when you heard his voice you growl abit.

"What do you want?".

You asked, shocking Zhongli at the tone of your voice and the lack of respect. It triggers his inner dom put you in your place, punishing you and torturing you until you're begging but decided to put that aside and stay calm.

"Princess open the door please".

He said as he hold the door knob, waiting for you to open the door dor him just like he always taught you.

"Open it by yourself".

He's shocked he opened the door he does feel guilty for forgetting about you but you need to understand he did it for you and this bratty act if your's is making things worst for yourself.

You don't feel guilty at all, you don't sense the storm coming slowly as Zhongli open the door and went inside your room, you keep looking away from him, distracting yourself with your dolls.

"Princess, that's not how you talk to Master".

He's patients is running low as he locked your bedroom door with you not noticing anything. He uses his Master card thinking that you will get the hint. Buttt no, you will still be a brat for him for revenge.

You scoff and ignore him, whatever he says just go above your head as you scowl.

Suddenly his hand grabs your arms and force you to look at him. When you do look into his eyes, it's clouded with lust and a little bit of anger. The eye that tells you to behave because you're gonna get punished.

You wail and wiggle around as he takes your chin and forces you to look up.

"Who taught you to be bratty hmm?".

His voice drops a couple of octaves and squeeze your chin a little bit harder, you tremble against his stare and touch. You turn your gaze away and squeeze your eyes shut, not daring to look at him straight in the eye.

"I asked you who taught you to be bratty".

He asked (more like state) again with more push on his tone, making you whine.

"N-no one! No one!".

You asked as you felt his hand slowly to your hips, you open your eyes a little and look at his hand on your hips.

"What do you say when you're being bratty to master?".

He asked pulling you upward so now you're standing with him as he hold your waist harder. You wail and wiggle around trying to get out of his grip as your pussy slowly getting wetter and wetter.

Even though your master is scary when he is mad.. you can't deny that the dominating aura makes your knees weak and your pussy wet. You just can't.

Even though you have been a brat but he has trained you to be good for him just by touching and staring at you, he could bring you down to your knee.

"S-sorry!".

You answer his question. He hums in satisfaction, you thought that you're done but the next thing you know you were thrown on the bed.

"Hmnp!".

A sound comes out of you as you're lying on the bed, Zhongli comes up to you and take something from his back. A handcuffs.

"Do you think master will let you go just because you say say sorry? After the stunt you pulled you neeed to be punished princess".

He said as he cuffs the both of your hand behind your back after rolling you over. As you lay on your stomach, you feel your waist being pulled up, ass on the air in front if Zhongli making the skirt rolls upward revealing your panties, you can feel his gaze your pulmp ass, and you tremble as he stroke your butt.

Unconsciously you move around your ass, you moan out as you feel your essence drops down to your thighs, Zhongli stare at your wetness that drips down your thighs as he smirk finding a way to tease you.

"Getting turn on by the punishment? You're such a slut aren't you? A bitch for master, being turned on because of punishment, we haven't even started yet".

He said as he suddenly slap your ass hard, you squeal out as you shake your ass to try and stroke the ass on anything that could makes you comfortable.

"M-MASTER!".

ah.. stupid little girl for him, cute little bitch, your pussy can be seen clenching from your undies. He stroke your ass and then slap it, over and over and over again. At this point you are a whining, whimpering mess, and he haven't even started the main course yet.

"So wet.. so fucking wet for master.. your pussy is clenching around nothing princess. Its so sad isn't it? You wanna be fucked full but because you're a brat, you can't".

You moan at his words and he slap your ass again, makin your body jerk forward a little bit. He laughed and stroke your panties slowly and shove it downward.

You can feel the wind against your wet pussy. You felt his long finger circle around your pussy for a second and then slap your pussy hard.

"M-MASTER HURTS! IT HURTS!".

you said it hurts but your pussy is getting wetter and your master notice this, he growl beside your ear and nibble on it a little.

"You're trying to lie? You said it hurts but you're body clearly enjoy this.. such a slut for master".

Yes, yes you are his stupid little slut. He moved away from you and walk towards the cupboard beside the bed, you stare at him, your red cheeks pressed against the bed and a patch of tears was seen below your cheek.

He takes out something that looks like a vibrator, but because of your tears you're not so sure but when he pressed the vibrator against your pussy, your doubt is melting away.

He pushed the vibrator inside you and put is on highest level, he shove it deep inside you, he opened the cuffs and then flip you so now your laying on your back, you moan at the relief from your hand and moan at the vibrator inside you.

"Don't you DARE touched the vibrator with your hand or play with yourself. This is your punishment so stay there".

He pulled away from you as he watched you writhed and tremble, moaning and squealing a high pitched not out of your mouth. Zhongli smile at the sight, satisfied that you're being a good girl, he takes the sofa near the bed and takes out a newspaper and started reading calmly, your moans and whimpers becomes his music.

"M-MASTER! MASTER! I- I WANNA CUM! WANNA CUM MASTER!".

You shout out, your master looks at you and smile.

"Go ahead and cum baby, do it. Do it for master, come on".

He cooed as you cum hard, body trembling, but the vibration on your pussy didn't stop. It keeps going and going because you're pussy is so god damn wet now the vibrator is slowly slipping out. Unfortunately Zhongli notice this and sigh, he walk towards you and use your underwear that's lying beloe your feet. He helps you wear the undrewear, pushing the underwear upwards along side the vibrator. And now the vibrator is inside you and this time, your underwear is holding the vibrator up your pussy.

He laughed at your sniffling and moans as he put it back in and proceed to go to the sofa and read the newspaper.

You wail and moan, feeling the vibration again and clenching around the vibrator, the feeling of wanting to cum is present.

"MASTER! WANNA CUM! WANNA CUM AGAIN MASTER! WANN- WANNA CUM!!!".

Zhongli just laugh as he saw your hand clenching on the bed sheets below you, he moved closer to you and take your head in his, making you clench his hand so so tightly. But.. Zhongli barely feels the pain as he found a new position to read the newspaper with one hand.

You cum again and again, you're slowly loosing your mind on your 3rd cum you beg him to stop but he ignore you so you pull Zhongli hand and suck on it, nearing your 5th cum, he felt your tounge and squeeze it little by little.

"MASTWE MASTWE MAKE ITH STOPH!".

you beg him to make it stop because you're so overstimulated and you know that you will squirt after this. As you suck on his fingers, his other fingers left the newspaper, he touched his middle finger and just lightly touched your clit it doesn't seem much but for you it's so overwhelming as you squirt hard on the bed and his finger.

You're body jolted upwards as you let put a high pitched moan, you're squirt gets a little bit higher everytime your body jolted upwards.

"Hmm squirting so good baby, so good, good slut for master, such a good fucking slut yeah? Feeling fucking good everytime you jolted upwards, you're little stupid body trembling hmm?".

He cooed at you, his words just fades out as you drown on the pleasure and overstimulation. He takes your now very wet panties down and takes out the vibrator and throw it somewhere around the huge bedroom.

"Now you're ready to take my cock, since you have been such a good girl, squirting everywhere for Master".

No respond comes from your mouth, your jaw is dropping down and your tounge is out, feeling so so overstimulated that now you cannot make any coherent sentence.

"My baby cannot talk? Did the vibrator mess up with her head? Well it's okay, i will fuck you dumb with my cock next".

You can hear the sound of zipper opening. You opened your eyes a little and looked at Zhongli, seeing his pants is already somewhere on the floor and his thick huge cock is out in the open.

"M-master!".

He hums, now that you saw him and know that he is about to fuck you, your head is filled with him and him alone. The king size bed creak at the movement as he grab your leg and slide you to him a swift motion.

"Yes yes, will take care of you Princess".

He said slowly sliding half of his cock inside your wet and warm pussy, his cock is so big- bigger than the vibrator.

"MASTER! MASTER! SO-SO BIGGG AHHNNNGGGG~ MASTER IS TOO BIG! MASTER IS FILLING ME IN! SO FULL! S-SO FULL MASTER~".

You moan out, cumming the 6th time. He grunted and looks at you, eyes full of heart. You're sooo cute, lost in the pleasure just by him pushing his dick in and cumming just by him putting it in.

He then pushed the rest inside you a dent of his cock is on your stomach, you squeal again as your hand fly to his biceps and squeeze it. Zhongli grunt and started to move in and out of you.

"Hah- your pussy is sucking me in Princess, you're soo greedy huh? First you want attention now you want my cock?".

He laughed as he ripped your dress open, your breast is now out in the open. He goes from slow tempo to rough real fast, in the nick of seconds, his eyes is staring at your breast and your face, entrance by the cuteness his little princess show him.

Youe breast is bouncing up and down from his thrust, your face is red and filled with tears, your mouth hangs open and your head is thrown back, your back is arching from pleasure as your upper body turns around a little bit.

His cock is hitting you everywhere, every crevices inside you, occasion grunt comes out his mouth. His hand grab your breast as he bent a little bit, his long soft hair flows down a little bit.

He squeeze your breast and played with your nipple, tweaking and pinching it, his face is slowly getting closer to your breast as you felt him played with your nipple, his tounge is going up and down on your nipple at a fast pace and then he suck it hard, bitting gently.

You're pussy is clenching around his cock and sucking it in. You can feel his dick twitching inside you too, his cock goes in and out, you can feel his bump on your stomach, he then stayed inside for a while and push his cock from your stomach. You squeal out and wail, legs trembling as he hold it while he went in and out.

You're seeing stars and moans is spilling from your lips as well as Zhōngli's grunts.

"S-so good princess, you're so fucking tight, cute little pussy all for Master, his dick is imprinted on your pussy and stomach huh-? Fuck i wanna cum!".

He grunt you just nod, can't even talk the only thing from your mouth isa bunch of giberish, he can only hear you say a bunch of master and Zhongli.

He giggle at your cuteness as you both nearing your high. Your pussy clench on his cock as you both cum at the same time, you squirt the second time all over him as he push all his cum inside you.

"Such a good girl, good girl for master, shhh it's okay master's here".

He shush you and held your body near him as he baby you. Your eyes is hazy and your body is trembling, his cock is still deep inside you, you don't mind you actually enjoyed it.

He brings you koala style with his cock still inside you and brings you towards the big sofa, he pushed one of the button and the sofa turns into a bed that's enough for the both of you.

He sleep beside you after laying you down. He hugs you and keep praising you, shushing you to calm down and just take a deep breath.

"You're good princess, you're amazing okay my good cute little princess".

He said as he peppering your face with kisses as you slowly slip into dream world.

"I..wuv.. zhongli..".

You mutter out, his stroking on your head just froze, hearing the gentleness and the pureness of your word when you say you love him makes him smile and kissed your lips a second too long.

"I love you too... (Y/n)"

#zhongli fanfiction #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #genshin smut

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hourglassstationacademy · 3 years ago

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HSA Prologue part 3:

You woke up. Thinking the last day was just an odd dream, however as you saw the bed and the new uniform before you… the realization was there that you still weren't home. Still you heard the ringing of the alarm clock and got up to try out the uniform. It suited perfectly, the people who made them must have a keen eye for sizes that they didn't even take measurements. You also looked at the tablet that layed next to it. It was small and had an icon on it. You took it with you but left if off.

You got out of the room just to see the other dorm members play games on the consoles. Not only that but odd flying creatures roamed around.

“Those? Just the dorm pixies. They can talk, but we mainly forbid them, cause they always screamed stuff like ‘listen hey’ and that was annoying.”

You heard a faint noise and the same punk looking girl when you arrived here, walked into your dorm. She readied her megaphone.

"Listen up, Zeptograms. Your math and monster culture teach is here to bring you on the tour and tell you about the school and its rules. You can call me Miss Cavalieri."

She smirked and looked around the dorm.

"Man has been ages since this place was active… Well, let's hope the headmistress didn't miscalculate. I will show you around the school today so you guys get used to where everything is before classes soon." You followed her together with your dorm mates out of the dorm to the Elevator room.

This was also where you saw the other students, each sorted by dorm and all very different looking variations of the same school uniform as you had. Some skirts were longer, some pants were shorter, some preferred sneakers over the boots, everything looked the same but still individual to each person. You also recognized the man with the flower in his eye. It seemed each teacher took care of a dorm on this tour.

"Anyways so you notice the two doors that are not Elevators like the other right? These are for one the Alchemy lab and on the other side the kitchen for cooking class. For one, let's move on."

She walked on into the room of the Crystal that chose your dorm. Pherea awaited you, but she suddenly jumped up and faded into a light. As the light was gone suddenly a woman stood before you.

"No worries my students. It's still me, Pherea. But I thought in this form I can give this story I prepared for you a little weight."

She brushed off dirt from her dress and smiled.

"A young woman and her 8 friends built his school in the past, each having a different talent. The woman build this school despite knowing that once her task is done she would turn into a Crystal and couldn't be human again."

Pherea placed her hand upon the Crystal.

"Our founder, Miss Ryoko Kesshō, built this school in the hope of making a place where everyone could cultivate their talent and what they are good at. Each of the founders who she left behind after becoming the Crystal before your eyes made one dorm at this school. The original 8 were the oldest dorms until with years more and more were developed. "

She made a gesture with her hand and placed it to her heart.

"With this little tour through the school we want to introduce you to some of the successful students, the founders and also… we want to make sure you guys can enjoy your time here without being disturbed by other forces of the media. You received your tablets yesterday with your uniforms, right? Please open them."

You opened the previous tablet to see a menu pop up.

"This tablet has different functions for you. Mainly it has your lesson plan, a point system where you can get discounts or pay in the Cafeteria or the shop, a school map, a photo app, a digital pet, a calendar, Profiles, a chat function, a download folder and lastly the school regulations. Please open the school regulations for now. "

You tapped the icon and found a wall of text.

"Please read them carefully, this way we can ensure your safety and you will know what you can and cannot do. So much for me, your teachers will continue the tour with you now."

Amalia took out her megaphone again.

"Follow me, Zero's."

She actually compared to the other teachers, Amalia first took you outside around the green house, which spotted an odd looking yellow flower locked deep inside.

"The greenhouse is actually more dangerous so only select students get in to help with the plants. Mainly because that yellow flower is something tied to one of the festivities of this school and shouldn’t be touched. Read the regulations and you see."

It actually stood there so as not to go near the flower. Amalia lead you to a path behind the school to a huge building called the Archive.

"This is something like our own Library of numbers and letters. Currently the Librarians managing it are not here but I will try to show you how it's made anyways. "

She walked inside and held her tablet to the terminal.

"Two options of using this archive, either downloading a version of the book you need or renting a physical one which gets marked into your calendar when you have to return it. Some books of course only come physically."

While she rambled you happened to curiously be drawn to a certain space in the back of the archives, one book laying on a pedestal as you tried to open it you heard something.

"What a rude one, opening me without asking for permission."

You backed off as Amalia came your way.

"HEY, don't stray from the group."

"Oh its the number spouting one."

"Grimmoire, shut up or shall I get Nakamura."

"Fine."

She closed the book.

"Grimmoire is a book that doesn't head calls of many, only the Librarians and one of our staff scouts can even approach his numbers."

She sighed.

"Lets move on from the archive then."

She brought you to the Cafeteria next.

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland #hourglassstationacademy #twisted wonderland ocs #twst #twst ocs #twst fanschool #twisted wonderland fanschool #disney twst #story #hsa story

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hoodoo12 · 4 years ago

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Doll (1/2)

More Robo Fizz s-m-u-t you thirsty, thirsty people.

NSFW

@go-commander-kim @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @jester-junk @jesterfestivle @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo

Enjoy!`

You didn’t show it to anybody, and you definitely didn’t keep it out for anyone to see if they ever came over to your tiny one room flat, but you had an old Robo Fizz doll. It was a hold over from your imphood, and it had been your favorite toy. A constant companion when you were young, the doll was now ragged and worn; not only was the colorful costume discolored and his face a grimy grey, but Robo Fizz had had multiple repairs in uneven stitching, and his left shoulder cap no longer had a frowning face. You’d rubbed it off with your thumb because you wanted him to always be happy.

Now his plush limbs were lumpy from where the stuffing had clumped and flaccid in spots where the stuffing had settled elsewhere. Any original texture was threadbare. You didn’t care, you still occasionally cuddled it when sleep didn’t come easily.

None of the hundreds of Robo Fizz dolls in the window of the souvenir shop looked anything like your old doll. These were all bright and shiny and brand-spankin’ new.

Jostled repeatedly by a seemingly never ending string of the implings and their either exasperated or also overly excited parents, you finally just went along with the crowd and entered the store.

Inside was a marketing director’s wet dream. If the Robotic Fizzarolli himself had come in and vomited, it would probably look like this place. Robo Fizz merchandise was everywhere, and if it wasn’t his exact likeness, it was the colors that made up his outfit. Everything from breakfast cereal to pencils to kid’s outfits to hats to water filled globes with glitter and a tiny Robo Fizz inside to keychains to posters to . . . there was so much you could barely take it all in. You decided to stick close to the display of dolls.

They were of varying quality. The smallest were vague and minimalistic in their likeness of the star of the carnival. The larger ones had much better workmanship and one, in a glass display case, purported to be wearing a vintage costume the Robotic Fizzarolli had worn in one of his shows. The dolls that were the same as the one you had loved through your imphood were somewhere in the middle, towards the lower end.

You picked one up out of the pile. This pristine doll in your hands had pom-poms on his collar that weren’t compacted balls of felt, like yours. You’d forgotten that originally your doll had had metallic fabric edging the costume; this one’s fabric was uncracked and gleamed in the overhead lights. All of his limbs were properly stuffed. It was tempting to buy a new one. You did love your doll, and were still a fan of the Robotic Fizzarolli. But all these shiny, mass produced dolls didn’t have the personality of your well-worn and well-loved Fizzy, and it felt a little like a betrayal to buy another.

Just as you were setting the doll back on the pile, a impling shoved between you and the display. You stumbled back. The doll flew out of your hands. It landed almost back where it belonged, and you managed to keep your feet under you. No one apologized: not the impling, not his parents who were now also crowding you out as if they hadn’t seen you or, more likely, didn’t care.

You should’ve put up a fuss but it wasn’t worth it. You wandered away from the large display of toys to look at the other bobbles. Just like the dolls, some had cheap and shoddy quality, while higher end products were better made. Their price tags reflected it.

At the back of the store, near a wall rack of shirts emblazoned with his face, a doorway with a beaded curtain caught your eye.

You’d been in this gift shop at Loo Loo Land before and had never seen that door. Granted, it was when you were a young imp, and your brain had been overloaded with sugar and the joy of getting your very own Robo Fizz doll. It was partially behind the cashier’s counter, but there was no sign that indicated it wasn’t for the public.

The imp in a smock at the register looked a combination of bored to tears and annoyed at her situation, so you didn’t feel comfortable asking about it. Out of the corner of your eye you watched two imps disappear through the door, and feeling bold, you followed.

The beaded curtain parted and one strand trailed along your horn as you went into the back room. There was a very short hallway, and a turn to the right into another room, which was why you couldn’t see anything past the initial doorway.

Inside the room was another plethora of Robo Fizz merchandise.

However, there were no implings, only adults, and the few customers there, although excited, all seemed to keep their glee subdued.

Looking to your right, your eyes widened at the wall display of dildos in various shapes and sizes, all their packaging proclaiming they all were authentic Robo Fizz replicas, exactly like the original Robo Fizz’s assortment of phalluses. Past that display was a large selection of bdsm products, including handcuffs that mimicked Robo Fizz’s cuffs, and whips that looked segmented, possibly to look like tentacles? You weren’t exactly sure.

In front of you were standing racks of clothing again, but these were lingerie, all designed as riffs his jester’s outfit. A couple was looking through them; one skimpy bra and panty set was held up and they both seemed pleased it was in her size.

There were piles of lollipops molded like his tongue, tentacles, and again, various cocks. A huge shelf of DVDs all had Robo Fizz on the cover, each touting to provide a different sexual fantasy.

Along the far wall, there was another large display of dolls.

Like in the front of the store, you were drawn to them.

Although there was still a wide assortment of size and quality, none were smaller than the one you had at home and all promised a more intimate encounter. The top of the line was a Personal Companion Robo Fizz, which you’d heard about but never had the chance to see one in person. It towered over you, looking vaguely menacing standing so still and lifeless compared to its manically boisterous original.

“It comes with a free gallon of lube. You can get a subscription to have a gallon shipped to you on a monthly basis,” someone said behind you. “Uh--what?!”

An employee in a smock like the imp’s out front stepped up beside you. Nodding towards the Personal Companion, she said, “You buy it, it comes with the first gallon of lube. You might need more, if he’s receiving, but even if you use if more for giving, you still need some to make his tongue more pleasant. No one likes getting eaten out by a cold mechanical mouth with zero lube!”

She shuddered dramatically. You weren’t quite sure what to say. Luckily--you guessed--she continued. “He’s top of the line, of course. Everything you’ve heard on the commercial is here. He’s got the BDSM feature, has two tentacles that you can attach so you can be double penetrated and spit-roasted at the same time, has so many speeds and patterns for vibration, and is super easy to clean! There’s a standard set of phrases he can say, but he can also be programmed to call you whatever you’d prefer, like Mistress or sweetie pie, and you can add a few other personal words too. And if you upgrade to the semi-AI package, he learns your preferences and his interactions with you can be even more life-like!”

You blinked up at the Personal Companion, overwhelmed by the enthusiastic sales pitch. Even if you were interested, there was no way you could afford it. Maybe, if they offered rental of him, you could swing half an hour, but more likely only fifteen minutes.

You thanked her and told her it was out of your price range and made to move away. She grabbed your arm and pulled you down the line of dolls. “I get it. A Personal Companion is expensive. But there are lots of other options!”

The grip she had on your arm was relentless, just like her sales talk. She gave you the specs and features of each type of doll available. They all had different attributes, some only vibrated, some had interchangeable cocks, some were designed for imps who preferred to penetrate. Several of the middle to high end dolls had a ‘sparking’ feature for a more authentic experience. All of them were machine washable.

Despite yourself, you began to think maybe you did want a new doll.

You still couldn’t afford something fancy. There was one type that was similar in shape and size to your old Fizzy, but came with a single cock folded up under his costume. It had a bit of a heft to him, and the sales clerk told you it was because of the motor--it didn’t have thrusting gears, but did have three different vibration settings. The price was slightly higher than you expected so you hemmed and hawed, but with the sales clerk smiling encouragingly, you decided to buy it.

“Excellent! Listen, since you’re a first time customer I’ll throw in a voice chip for you. Free of charge.”

You nodded your thanks, and followed her to the register to ring it up. She made sure the “adult” attributes of the doll were tucked away and the button was off, and it looked like any other innocuous Robo Fizz doll in the gift shop’s bag. She also tucked a tiny bottle of lube into the bag for you too, another free gift.

She thanked you for your purchase and you went back out into the main room of the shop, clutching your special Loo Loo Land souvenir to your chest.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Robo Fizz #Robo Fizz x reader #robotic fizzarolli #helluva boss #helluva fizzarolli

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ao3bronte · 4 years ago

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when chaos reigns [the sirens come to play]

A Merman AU. (Rated T with some suggestive language.) Now on AO3!

[Prologue]

Covid-19 and covert relationships don’t exactly go hand-in-hand these days, but you really shouldn’t be touching anyone’s hands right now anyway.

…that is, unless you don’t belong to the same species.

Can Merpeople catch Covid-19? That’s debatable, but news doesn’t exactly flow freely from the depths of the South China Sea. Though we know very little about Merpeople and their ways of life, we do know that they rarely interact with humans, preferring to tear down their ships and rip apart their dams and levies in revenge for poisoning the oceans and seas with their human fossil fuels.

But this isn’t a story about environmental politics, or Covid-19 for that matter. This is a story about love and about putting aside differences. In this tale, Marinette discovers that the term ‘scalie’ (ou écailleux, car nous sommes en France) doesn’t always refer to the commonly known adjective to describe fish skin. And Adrien, bless his heart, really does need to put on clothes when he’s not rocking a fish tail despite the fact that he’d much rather be naked (much to Marinette’s mortification). Anyway you slice it, Merpeople and humans simply aren’t supposed to be together — they’ve always been sworn enemies through and through — but no matter what alternate universe we find ourselves in, these two idiots in love will always find each other.

This is, undoubtedly, their story.

[Part 1]

It’s the beginning of March and Tom and Sabine aren’t taking any chances with this whole virus situation. Marinette seems to catch everything — illnesses, hands, the whole nine yards — and they’d already been talking about sending her down to the Cote d’Azur to spend the summer with her grandmother Gina Dupain in order to get away from Paris for a little while. The constant schoolyard bullying from Chloé Bourgeois has dragged Marinette down so many pegs that Sabine is almost relieved to see Macron call off school for the foreseeable future and books both her daughter and her husband a trip to Marseille before the entire country shuts down for good.

Marinette isn’t happy, of course, but what teen would be? Her friends are in Paris! The fashion is in Paris! She doesn’t want to stay in some sleepy little Mediterranean village where nothing ever happens! Do they even have Wi-Fi there?

It’s a valid question. Tom doesn’t actually know, but he chatters enough for the two of them as the high speed train takes them down the rails to the south of France. Marinette’s sulk lightens a little as he pulls pastry after pastry out of his luggage in the hopes of making his daughter smile just a little before dropping her off with his mother — he knows that their relationship is a little strange after Gina’s last visit to Paris but there’s nothing a little quality time together can’t fix.

Petite Befana is one of those places you find on a postcard. Situated just on the edge of France and Italy, the fishing village’s brightly coloured houses gleam in the sunlight, peppered with lemon trees and winding alleys that seem to almost spill out into the sea. The beaches are craggy and feature small grottos and coves of underground caves that glimmer with seaglass when the sun hits them just right, hiding a pocket sized oasis here and there for the adventurous who like to explore at low tide. Gina likes it here because of the Place du Marché, but Tom often wonders as to the real reason why she’s settled in the quaint harbour after years of Eat, Pray, Loving around the entire planet after divorcing his father.

She’s certainly made friends with every woman in town by the looks of it. Along with her veritable swarm of bar-hopping friends, Tom keeps seeing a woman with pointed features and deep black hair with a violent red streak in it pop up on her Facebook page. They always seem to be in the same jazz club, not that Tom is really paying attention; if his mother wants to spend her golden years drinking negronis and dancing with her girlfriends, that’s up to her.

They disembark the train in Marseilles and take a bus to Toulon, then another bus to Petite Befana. Marinette is passed out and drooling on his shoulder by the end of it so Tom does as he always does and hauls her up like a sack of flour through the thick and winding labyrinths of cobblestone streets towards his mother’s apartment. Gina greets them once he eventually finds the place and, after tucking Marinette into the daybed in the guest bedroom, happily guzzles down the proffered beer on the terrasse overlooking the sea.

“I’ll try to come down as often as I can,” Tom assures Gina, not knowing just how bad of a clusterfuck 2020 was about to become. “I’m sure Marinette will come to appreciate all that Petite Befana has to offer.”

“I’ll take her down to the market tomorrow morning,” Gina assures him, patting her son’s beefy forearms. “There’s an older woman who sells the most beautiful fabrics and I already dusted off my old sewing machine. That should keep her busy.”

“Marinette’s never happier when there’s a project to complete,” Tom responds with relief, downing the rest of his Kronenbourg. “I bet she’ll have an entire closet full of clothes by the time the month is out.”

“And it should only take a month or two for this to blow over.” Gina jabs her thumb towards the television as the news of Covid-19 murmurs in the background amid the waves of the Med on the shore. “And then we’ll be back to normal before you know it!”

(...and we all know how that turned out.)

[Part 2]

Covid-19 affects a lot of people in a lot of different ways. Some feel stir crazy. Others enjoy the alone time. But Marinette? Well, she’s been trapped in the harbours of Petit Befana for three weeks now and our aforementioned heroine is already bored out of her skull. She’s made three dresses, four satchels and twenty two scrunchies with the leftover fabric because what else is there to do down here? Luckily, Covid-19 hasn’t quite affected Petite Befana like it has the other regions of France and Marinette is able to go outside at least...not that she wants to.

There are more artisanal bakeries and charcuterie shops in Petite Befana than there are nightclubs and high end boutiques, which is odd for a village so beautifully situated on the coast of southeast France. Gina proudly boasts that her new home is often bypassed by the glitz and glam of Monaco; lavish superyachts and the seemingly endless stream of paparazzi prefer the glamour and uberwealth just west of their little village, leaving its sleepy inhabitants mostly alone to sell their goods to the tourists that stop by for a night on their bicycles and scooters. Marked with the Italian influences of its neighbour, Petit Befana truly is the little-known last stop on the famous Cote d’Azur which makes it an inspiring landscape for Marinette to discover…

...for all of four days.

She’s already so over Covid-19 and, like any teenager, she’s getting more and more annoyed by the day that she can’t hang out with her friends! Why did Maman and Papa send her down here?! All she wants to do is get back to Paris and design! It’s not like there’s anything fun to do here anyway, besides play video games all day in her bedroom; the only places that offer free WiFi are closed and she can only play Animal Crossing for so long before her grandmother insists on making her get some fresh air.

Ugh!

Grumbling under her breath, Marinette pulls on her raincoat and stomps down the laneway from the terrasse towards the sidestreet where her grandmother’s 1920’s bastide-style home resides. From the cobbled alley, Marinette watches the colourful array of fishing boats land their day’s catch right up on the harbourfront and heads down despite the storm clouds brewing on the horizon.

“Bonjour!” A group of older men wave as she makes her way down the ancient steps, the pathway shaded by thick palms and cacti. She pauses just long enough to ask who’s winning their game of socially distanced pétanque before continuing her way through the pines towards the gravel and sand beaches that line the shore.

The seafront is mostly boarded up, much to both Gina’s and Marinette’s disdain. Her grandmother used to spend most of her evenings at the jazz bar La Sirena with her friends, not that Marinette got to meet any of them. The lockdown shuttered pretty much everything the day after she kissed Papa goodbye and settled into her new life for the next month, but with three weeks already stretching into four, Marinette dejectedly wonders if she’ll ever see Paris again.

Passing the last brasserie on the boardwalk, Marinette leaves civilization for the long stretches of barren coastline. There’s all sorts of little inlets and grottos here and there, especially as she gets closer and closer to the Italian border. Unfortunately, it’s only April, which means it’s rainy, generally unpleasant and completely and utterly empty on the beach.

“No one to talk to, nothing to do…” Marinette sighs and tries to kick a piece of driftwood, only to miss it with her foot in true Marinette style. The faux pas — quite literally — sends her screaming and flailing her arms like an octopus on a ceiling fan as she dramatically plummets face first onto the wet, slimy gravel.

She groans and pushes herself up on her hands and knees, wincing as sea-weathered stones dig into her palms and kneecaps. Marinette is, above all, a walking disaster in every sense of the word — sometimes she wonders if the powers that be seek out to deliberately punish her with embarrassing things like this on purpose for their own amusement.

(ಸ_ಸ … *cough* Zag *cough*)

Marinette whimpers as she wipes chunks of seaweed and brownish foam off her cheeks and chin. At least no one was around to see her fall over — thank god — but she’ll still have to do the laundry when she gets home. She’s covered in muck and little bits of oily slime that are sure to stain if she doesn’t wash it out soon. Marinette grimaces as she tries to shake it off of her hands; humans really have done a number on the seas and oceans...like, why is her front so sticky? She glances at some of the garbage on the shore as she sits on her haunches and wonders if the news has it all wrong. Maybe the merpeople taking potshots at rich people on yachts with old cans and plastic sea trash really do have the moral upper hand…

Marinette, being Marinette, would have continued to stare dazed and confused into space well into the afternoon had it not been for the impossibly shiny something or other sparkling in the grotto straight ahead.

[NEXT PART...]

#miraculous ladybug #mermaid au #lovesquare #adrinette #adrienette #Bronte's Mermaid AU #ml

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jojoreadwhat · 4 years ago

Text

lie / h.s. x fem!reader • smut

where y/n has had enough of their “arrangement” and harry is unsure about his feelings.

words; 4k, this isn’t proofread and I’m sorry

warning; friends with benefits theme. angst, strong language, sexual content including handjob, oral(f!receiving) fingering, edging, penetrative sex. under final cut. then will be concluding with lots of fluff and aftercare. reader is advised

I listened to this

it was going on 3am and Harry was finally giving up on the idea of sleep.

he thought he would have fallen asleep by now after the day he had previously. jam packed with photoshoots, interviews, some time at the studio with Mitch and then ended the night with a party. it was seeming like the liquor he downed earlier on, coursing through his veins wasn’t ready to slow anytime soon yet. and he was over it. tossing and turning in his king sized bed since midnight. he sighed roughly to himself the moment his back met the mattress, lying there still now. defeated and annoyed, looking up at the clear, white ceiling above him. with his mind speckled in thought, the real reason why he wasn’t in a heavy slumber right now.

tonight wasn’t the first one without a good night of sleep. this was night five now. with you on his mind and not next to him. and it wasn’t because you miles apart from each other, on different sides of the earth no. you on his mind wasn’t something new or missing you either. but it was different this time around. when a few days ago, that all changed. when he let you walk out that door, because of him.

harry hasn’t seen you or heard from you for nearly a week now. since you stormed out of this room. he remembers the moment, so vividly. it hasnt left his brain, instead embedded itself to remind him of how much of an asshole he truly is. your naked frame scurrying around his room, picking up all your clothes scattered from the events that took place shortly before. with anger, embarrassment, the sadness that you contained by biting your bottom lip. after spilling your heart out to him, that you loved him. breaking the first rule to your arrangement.

you and harry had a very complicated friendship in the last eight months. at first it wasn’t, it was a very traditional one. both of you met at a mutual friends party a year earlier, hitting it off from the start and the rest became history. you two were inseparable, doing everything, literally, together. you were his date to most of his events, went on trips and getaways together, did mundane things like grocery shopping, which was always a experience. you both hung out all the time. smoking together most nights and playing records, while laying on his living room floor. talking about everything to anything. harry even gave you a key and your own spot in his dresser. you two were a dream team, the friendship that many aspired to have. the one that everyone was waiting to watch bloom into something more.

things changed out of the blue one night. you had come over, distraught over a guy that you were seeing for two months who wasn’t ready for anything to go further. Harry and you did the next best thing, passing a blunt back and forth among each other. lying on his living room floor, listening to fleetwood mac faintly in the background. talking over the worthless two months, the piece of shit of a guy Jared was and how finding love in this day and age just didn’t make sense. next thing you knew, Harry’s waist was wrapped in your legs, his weight heavy enough on you as he kissed you hard and long. your fingers twisted in his little dark brown curls at the back of his neck as pulled him back down to you. neither of you knew how it started, what made the sudden change but you never looked back.

this friends with benefits thing went on for eight months, filling in some void that you both were missing. it was great, really great. you had each other whenever you wanted. whatever how long you wanted. nobody knew about it as far as you know. you were careful, even when the need was necessary at strange times or at places other than both your beds. there was one time that harry flew you out to italy for a weekend for nothing but that (and you as a plus one at gucci) it was a weekend that neither of you would admit, still gave you both chills looking back. all around your arrangement worked, it wasn’t a disaster like some of the stories or movies told. it was perfect in every way.

until now. where you both were going through the longest drought to date and feelings were involved.

for harry, the night that you admitted how you felt for him after all this time. it wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same as you, he just wasn’t sure that he did. he needed you more than he realized, more then he wanted to believe. for a while now. he has been denying the change for so long that when he was faced with the reciprocation, he froze and put his guard up. but in all reality, he has been in love with you since the beginning of time.

you were his girl, his person. you knew him in and out, you didn’t care about his status or money. you treated him as harry. your best friend. his number one cheerleader. the hug he needed after a rough day. the laugh he wanted hear before he closed his eyes and when he woke up. the child like heart of yours as you sat in the cart, sneaking candy in the cashier line. the dance partner he needed in the early morning in the middle of the kitchen. his plus one that he was excited to have on red carpet with his arm around. the lips he wanted to kiss, all the time and not just in the moment. so soft and sweet against his. he wanted, needed everything before and after the arrangement. he needed you and he should’ve told you before letting you leave.

in a rush, harry threw his gray duvet off his shirtless himself, sitting up and standing out of his bed. not caring about his hair or the sleep deprivation evident on his face. he threw on his black hoodie, searching for his cream vans and heading down the hall to grab his keys to his Mercedes and out to the driveway he went. on his way to you.

——————————————————————————

not finding the ability to sleep. you were laying on your couch, lights off with only the blue light reflection off the tv screen while aimlessly watching a movie you didn’t catch the title to. this was becoming a ritual for the last few nights. awake past your usual time, feeling it hit hard in the morning. drinking the sleep you missed prior in a paper cup. overwhelmed with the same thoughts from morning to night. you huffed, having enough of it. hastily flicking off the tv by the remote before turning over on the couch, clutching the yellow throw to yourself and closing your eyes tight.

after no calls or texts, a clear indication that it was over. you were feeling like a fool on how much you allowed this to get to you. you shouldn’t be feeling this sad. you finally got your answer. you shouldn’t be missing him. you should be pissed off. mad. you should be going out with your friends and trying to find someone to forget the dreadful blissful months you endured. but you’re not. because you miss him. because you love him. everything little thing about him and he doesn’t feel the same. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life. so confused by everything.

none of it made sense. his response beat the shit out of you. you werent expecting him to love you back but at the same time, you knew there had to be something there. the way things were even when you weren’t tangled up in each other limbs, fucking like rabbits. harry gave you so much confidence that he was feeling the same way about you like you did for him. holding your hand in public, kissing in the most exposed places, never denying that you weren’t his girl when asked at events. instead, his grip on your waist would tighten. he would smile at you, kissing the top of your head. making sure you were okay at all times, keeping his focus on you no matter the situation. when you were alone, he would declare you as his all the time. every fiber of your skin he touched “all mine.” he would say, so low to hear but for your ears only. you wanted it all back. even if it was all for fun and games.

hypothetically kicking yourself for being so brave. for placing your heart on your sleeve for it only to be held by cheap thread. for wanting it back, for wanting to continue the charades because it’s better than nothing at all. you didn’t deserve that. you needed better. someone willing to give you that in reality and not only behind closed doors. someone who is lucky to have you at all times and not when its for a fixing.

you sighed to yourself, rolling back over to glance at your phone on the coffee table. bright in the darkened room, squinting to see, it read now quarter to 4am and you rolled your eyes. done with the fiddle faddle with your thoughts, you needed sleep and you were over allowing this situation to consume you further. rising from the couch, you wrapped the throw over your shoulders to protect you from the chill from here to your bedroom. looking around to make sure all was good before continuing on.

approaching the foyer of where your staircase and living room entrance met. you were startled by hard, repetitive knocks to your front door. you froze where you stood. who could be here at this hour? You thought to yourself. you quietly reached for a vase on a nearby table. creeping closer to the door.

the knock happened again before stopping once more. “love, y/n.” you heard the raspy, tired voice from the other side of the door. it was Harry. “it’me, please open up.”

you bit your lip, rolling your eyes. fuck, you muttered to yourself before placing the vase back down. unlocking the door and flinging it open gently. there he stood in front of you. in your favorite attire, all casual in just a hoodie and joggers that hugged his bottom half just right. his chestnut hair, a mess and disheveled, golden at the top from the porch light above him. scruff peppered around his mouth and along his jaw. his green eyes like daggers on you as he watched you search him, using the time to figure to say hey right. the stare made you feel a bit beside yourself, pulling the throw closer to yourself and over your flimsy pink cami paired with gray sweats. you cleared your throat, looking at the street and breaking the silent stare.

“I hope your not here to get something from me.” you stated, then. looking anywhere but at him like you wanted. taking everything you to keep yourself together as you placed between wanting to yell at him and tell him to never see you again and wanting to pull him in to make up for the lost time. “ha, no.” harry shook his head at your comment. raising his hand to his hair, raking his fingers through it, nervously. “I came m’ere to talk.” he said, “if that’s alright?”

you both stood there for a moment before opening the door further slowly. giving him room to come right in. his cologne of vanilla and sandalwood hitting the brim of your nose the second he slipped by you. something you missed, being caught up in it. you pressed your back against the door, hearing it shut behind yourself as you followed after harry to the living room where he made himself at home. he stood poised next to your gray linen couch, waiting to see you approach the room before he took a seat on it. patting the spot next to him. overwhelmed by the time, by his presence and all the emotions bouncing around like a pin ball machine in your mind and body. you treading carefully around your coffee table, joining him shortly after and becoming leveled with his green orbs.

it was quiet for the first few minutes, and not the comfortable kind that you’d fall into from time to time. watching Harry’s rosy plump lips open and close, seeing his hand rise to them, his index and thumb pinching his bottom lip, struggling with what to say first. tongue tied by the fact that you let him in in the first place. he wasn’t prepared to not be given a fight. he sighed, roughly. “I’ve missed you so much.” he began, taking you by surprise and lacing his fingers with yours.

you shook your head, leaving his grasp before standing up from the couch. “please don’t lie to me, harry.” stopping whatever his plan was firsthand. “I’m not falling into this.. trap. I told you how I felt and that’s that. don’t take it for granted.” harry stood up to meet you, wanting to get closer, pull you closer to him but he left the space for you.

“M’not lying. I missed you.” going on, “I came ‘ere to talk. to tell ya I’m sorry. that I regret the moment that ya walked out the door.” he finished, his eyes never leaving yours for a second as he spoke. you furrowed your brows, the confusion rising again. “why are you sorry? you don’t feel the same and I just have to deal with that. that’s nothing to be–” harry grew closer at the last bit of your speech. cutting in. “but it wasn’t the truth. I do feel the same and I let you leave thinking I didn’t. that’s what I’m sorry about.”

you were stuck. shocked to say the least. you couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth, but your inner self wasn’t going to let it sink in so easily. “please don’t do this. harry, if you lying to me. I will never forgive you. so please stop.” feeling your eyes becoming glassy as tears threatened the rim. harry shook his head, his hands meeting at the top of your shoulders as he looked you in the eyes. “I won’t stop because I’m not lying.” feeling his hands running down your arms, slow to stop and grab your hands in his. “I love you, y/n. I fucking love you.” you looked up at him at rise in volume at his last words. his eyes searching your face and yours doing just the same. trying to find any flake that this wasn’t real, that what he just said was only in your mind and wasn’t just said into the air. you bit at your now quivering bottom lip, trying to keep yourself together.

“if you’re messing with me, H. I swear to god” needing another reassurance, harry flashed his cheeky infamous smile at the use of his nickname from you. feeling normalcy, before his large, soft hands left yours to scoop your face. tilting it up to his. “I mean it. with everything I have, all I own. I mean it.” he said, “I love you, I always have and will.” his words silver off his lips. you couldn’t explain the feeling that rouse in you but you felt tears, happy ones, beginning to make way down your cheeks. “I love you too.” you muttered softly to harry, him still smiling toothlessly now as his thumbs collected the droplets. before leaning down and capturing your lips with his.

the moment they met, your body responded immediately. rising in heat from head to toe. melting into harry as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. one hand still caressing your cheek, while the other dug tightly at your waist. the long days of not being wrapped up, sharing sweet pecks or laughs amongst one another was felt right now. the kiss starting out so sweet and tender, feeling the smiles and hearts combust in happiness. soon were taken over by neediness, lust and desire from the lost time. his tongue running along your bottom lip, asking for entry to deepen the kiss. never feeling something so powerful shared between the two of you. never pulling away long enough to catch breath, harry directed you both towards the couch. his hands clasping are your bum, silently telling you to jump into his arms before settling you both down with him beneath you, straddling his lap.

you let out a breathy moan when his lips met the spot connecting your jaw and neck. peppering kisses along your jawline as your fingers got lost in his thick curls. feeling him smiling against you with every little sound only he could get out of you, marking what belonged to him. he pulled away slightly, having you chase his lips and cheeks and leaving him in a fit of chuckles. understanding the neediness you were trying to release, you could feel his against the inside of your thigh. he placed his hands back on your face, pulling you down to kiss you again, before backing away once more and resting his forehead to yours. “do you want to go upstairs?” you asked, softly. hands flattening at the fabric on his broad chest, straightening his shirt. meeting his gaze, harry smiled slightly, cupping your cheek and bringing your lips to his again. “I’d love to.” his warm, minty breath grazing your mouth. you smiled, then. before rising off of harry. your feet touching the chill of hardwood floor, standing between his legs before reaching out for him to grab a hold of your hand. allowing you to direct him, hand in hand, up the stairs and to your bedroom.

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

the moment harry and you entered the bedroom. he beaconed you to the bed, immediately bringing you down with him. leaving where you left off moments ago, on harry’s lap, hands in his hair. his green eyes, darkened in lust, smirking up at you before his lips met yours in a slow, sweet embrace.

“I want to take my time with you tonight.” he spoke, breathlessly. Looking up at you, pecking your nose. running his thumbs under eyes, noticing the lack of sleep evident likewise, then along your cheeks and to your bottom lip. “Are you up for that, love?” He asked, like the gentleman he is. “Hm?” eyes on you, going in and kissing your collarbone. leaving you to bite back a cross between a whimper and giggle, “please.” you cried.

”good.” he muttered, softly. smirking and placing both of his hands on you bum, squeezing light before rolling you over so quickly you couldn't register what was happening until you were lying flat on your back, him hovering you now and his teeth were nipping at you ear. you squealed and wiggled beneath his heavy, toned body, and his mouth left kisses on your neck, your collar bone, back to your lips again. one of his tattooed arms, rested next your head, steadying himself while the other roamed your body. savoring any exposed skin of yours on his fingertips. your body following the feeling of his hands as they ran along it, up and down your waist, to your hip. moaning lightly into one of the grazes of your lips, harry's own curling up at the sides.

with his hands clasping your waist and under your shirt. you began to feel the fabric rise up. harry broke his lips away from your neck, rolling the shirt up and over your head. throwing it to the floor. the chill of the room now hitting your topless body, your nipples hardening more to the new adjustment. your hands falling into harry’s hair again as he lowered himself along your body. kissing the skin over your breasts. looking up at you, watching you. harry took one of your harden nipples into his mouth, the other between his fingers of his hand. tracing X's and O's over and around. him kissing, licking, sucking, biting at every bit of your bare skin. earning him moans and whimpers from you, continuing to watch you lose yourself. feeling privileged to see this sight of you, only him. only he could get this arouse out of you. your head rested on the pillow, a whimpering mess from only his mouth. giving him all the rights to ravage your body.

the anticipation was getting the best of you. you wanted him now, you were already over with his toying around. “harry, please.” you whimpered, “p-please do something.” harry looked up, smirking at you, devilishly before he climbed back up. your legs wrapped around his middle, pushing him closer to you. “eager aren’t we?” he retorted. you smiled into a moan when you felt his erected shaft underneath his joggers, graze your throbbing clit, covered in your drenched panties. you weren’t the only one.

harry tilted your face up towards his, pecking your lips sweetly and pulling away only centimetres. “stay patient, love.” he muttered, then. before going back down your body again. trickling kisses above the waistband of your sweats. feeling his long, slender fingers slid under the band, pulling the pants down agonizingly slow before he was faced with your panties now.

he groaned at the sight of the wet spot on them, causing you to gasp when he ran three fingers over your clothed heat. “you’re so wet.” he swallowed, meeting his green eyes with yours, darkened and glazed over in lust and desire. “and its all for me.” not wasting another second before pulling the fabric down off you and you hissing at the sharp chill grace your cunt.

harry continued to tease, starting from your knee and aligning kisses on your inner thighs. feeling his breath graze where you wanted his mouth the most. you bucked your hips once at him, immediately his hands meeting them “ah ah.” he spoke, you looked down at him, him raising a brow and his green eyes flashing up at you. silently telling you to “be patient.” again. leaving you irritated as your head forcefully met the pillow. but the little tantrum working in your favor when you felt his lips kiss your mound, following a stride of his tongue against your swollen clit. like an electric shock to your body. he worked you slow and hard, careful, taking his time like this was going to be the last. building you up to the top, then slowing down to do it all over again. your hands wrapped up in his curls, bringing him as close as you could. directing him where you wanted him as you rotated your hips until he had enough, holding your lower half down, your legs on his shoulders and your hands in his. as he devoured you like a delicacy. and having you come on his tongue. twice.

once he was done tasting you, so fucked out and spaced, you hadn’t noticed him standing at the end of your bed. undressing himself until he was left in his briefs, crawling back over you, his legs parting yours at the knees as his large hand cupped your cheek, bringing your lips to his. nudging his nose with yours, he pecked your cheek, “are you still with me, love?” he asked, noticing how you were still trying to get to your whereabouts. harry’s fingers of his other hand were drawing little circles to your hip, to the top of your heat. you nodded slow, giving him the go to continue further when you felt his finger slip through your soaked folds, before entering you. you moaned at the feeling, harry now resting his forehead to yours as his fingers moved in and out of you at a generous pace. one of your hands, met harry’s face gently. while your free one went searching passed his tented briefs, before embracing his hard, thicken shaft in your hand. causing harry’s breath to hitch at the contact. collecting the pre-cum at the top of his swollen tip, lubing him up and running your hand tightly around his cock, stroking him. his free hand holding your face close to his, both swallowing each other’s moans in between heated kisses as you got each other off.

harry could feel you tightening around his fingers, growing closer to the edge. he pulled his fingers away from you and backed away from your touch. you shuttered in surprise, pouting from the loss of contact. looking up at him, searching for an explanation for only to be left watering in your mouth from the view of harry the two fingers that were occupied and covered by your juices, into his mouth. tasting you. in a need, you leaned up to meet harry halfway, pulling him into another countless kiss. your hand travelling to his shaft that was resting stiff against his abdomen when his hand met it mid stream, tangling his fingers with yours.

“no love, I need you now.” he commanded, gently pushing you back down. laying on top of you, feeling his cock resting against you. the same hand still wrapped in yours, now next to your head. while the other placed your thigh around him, before wrapping his hand around his shaft, positioning himself perfectly aligned with your cunt. feeling the tip. his head falling into the nook of your neck, his curls tickling your skin, lips warm against your neck and shoulder as he slipped into you, slow.

you gasped at him expanding your walls, being cautious, taking his time as he waited for you adjust to him. muttering sweet nothings, kissing you all over the place before he heard the green light from you. starting a nice rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting right back in. his hands all over you, his mouth connected to any bit of your skin that he could taste. his moans and grunts grazing hot at your ear were enough to have you orgasm right then and there for him. but any moment that you felt like you were growing closer, harry would slow down. lazily pounding into you, muttering affirmations. “you’re so beautiful.” to “you feel so good, love.”

your new favorite though almost was barely audible when he began to pick up the pace, colliding with the friction of your skin meeting. kissing you deeply, “I love you.” he said, softly but sincere. your eyes opening from focusing on the repetition to his words, “say it again.” you said looking at him with half lidded eyes, your glistening skin in a sheen of sweat. harry smirked big before you watched his mouth almost ‘o’

“I love you, y/n.” he said again. leaving you to moan at the sound of it, leaning up slightly, chasing his lips with yours. “I love you too” you spoke against his mouth, wrapping your hands around his back. soon beginning to dig when you felt yourself growing close.

harry began to feel you clenching around him. “are you close, baby?” he muttered. immursed in the how beautifully your bodies moved today, like they were made for this. you met his gaze again, “y-yes” you stuttered in between a moan, he then peck your lips, grabbing your hands like daggers from his back into his large hands, setting them above your head. beginning to speed up, driving to home base. thrusting into you erratically, both your breathy moans and sounds echoing against the walls of the room. his head falling to meet his mouth to your ear, “come with me, come with me, come with me” he repeated.

and before you could even think of attempting to hold back. without a warning, you cried out in absolute pleasure as your orgasm ripples through you. your back arching, collecting every bit. harry’s hands clasping to meet your middle as he senselessly pounded into you when his hips snapped back, meeting his own euphoria and he released warm and heavy into you. collapsing limply onto your body, his weight heavy and him completely exhausted, but in a unrelaxed, happy state. in a haze from what just took place seconds ago.

you both lied there, motionless. breathless with a dry throat, panting and clammy. you lazily ran your fingers through harry’s hair where his head lied, resting on your chest between your breasts. he slowly looked up at you. his green eyes soft now, his smile, toothlessly and dreamy that you felt butterflies sworm. “you alright, love?” he whispered, you smiled, nodding to answer. your hand, caressing his milky, glistening cheek. leaving you in a fit of giggles, when he turned his mouth in the direction of your palm. kissing it before lazily climbing up you and placing his hands on your cheeks. just staring at each other for a moment, gazing, taking each other in before he smile, kissing your cheek and bringing his attention back to you.

“did I tell you that I love you?” he smiled, feeling heat rise to your cheek. biting your lip, you shrugged. “Mmm, maybe once or twice?” you said, then. wrapping your arms around his neck. harry flashed a bright smile, leaning closer to your lips with his. “well i’ve got all night to tell you more.” he said, before crashing his lips on yours.

#Harry Styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #slutforbritdick

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tangledstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

hello. if you’ve followed me for more then a week you may have seen me talking abuot the alex 5+1 and how its been torturing me for months. well. it is finally done. i think i deserve a reward to myself.

but yes okay. it’s 5 times alex had just the right thing in his fanny pack +1 time that he didn’t.

anyway!! it’s another 5+1 that’s alex centric.

also on ao3 (link in replies!)

trigger warnings! death mentions (because they’re ghosts), mild swearing, mentions of blood and injuries but nothing graphic.

one.

On his tenth birthday his parents took him to the mall and told him he could pick out anything that he wanted from one store, courtesy of his grandparents. Which, for a ten year old, was a big decision to make. Because there were a lot of things that he wanted.

Alex had dragged them from shop to shop, looking through every piece of clothing, every accessory, every record and tape. There were a lot of things to choose from. He really hated having to make a decision.

It was pure luck when he finally found the thing he wanted. Tucked away behind backpacks and satchel bags and flimsy looking tote bags, Alex found the fanny pack. It was dark grey and made a funny sound when he scratched at the material with his nails. It was also the perfect size to fit his inhaler and a snack and a pen and, if he did it right, probably even a single drum stick.

(The brand new and shiny drum kit currently sitting in his garage at home was his main birthday present, and Alex was more than excited for Luke and Reggie and Bobby to come over later and see it, and now he could show them his new fannypack and they could fill it with all the essentials that ten year olds needed.)

Everyday he woke up and got dressed, the fanny pack would find its way buckled across his chest and he’d check it had everything he needed inside. Inhaler and tissues and crumpled up dollar bills and a pen and a snack, just in case. Because Reggie always got hungry and there were only so many times they could bother their parents before they got annoyed.

They’re sitting in tree house that Reggie’s dad had built – back when Reggie’s dad and mom didn’t spend so much time fighting and his older brother was still around and Reggie didn’t flinch at doors banging – scraps of paper and forgotten homework scattered on the wood.

They’re supposed to be doing homework. Like they do every Saturday morning before they all give in to Luke’s pouting and bike over to Bobby’s place to ‘rehearse’, (it’s more like, they’re all playing at the same time in different keys, but they’re eleven. A killer band isn’t created overnight.) but Luke hasn’t shown up yet and Reggie is on his third candy bar and Bobby gave up on maths homework in favour of his game boy. Alex would be more stressed about the turn of events if it didn’t happen every Saturday.

“Jump, jump, jump, dude! You gotta jump!”

“I know, you saying it over and over isn’t helping man,” Bobby grits out and Alex watches as Reggie hovers over his shoulder, eyes wide and practically hanging off his arm.

“Look out for – Oof. So close man. Shoulda jumped,” Reggie pats Bobby on the shoulder, just dodging as the other boy's elbow moves back to try and catch him in the ribs.

“I swear to god Reg –” Bobby starts and Alex is readying himself either to intervene or move out of the way when Luke’s head pops up through the hole on the floor, wide smile and messy hair and eyes gleaming with some kind of mischief.

“Guys!” They watch as he pulls himself up and into the tree house, they’re all knees bumping and elbows narrowly missing sides and Alex spends several long seconds worrying that this will be the day they no longer all fit. That they’ve finally outgrown the tree house. But then Luke shuffles back, dropping his backpack into the centre and Reggie bends one knee to rest his head on and Bobby drops his hands into his lap, game boy still beeping away.

“I had the best idea,” Luke starts, unzipping his bag and rummaging through it for something, “I was watching this film last night, right? I don’t know what it was, one of those weird ones that’s on at 2am. Not the point. Anyway so there was this group of friends right and they were all moving away and didn’t want to stop being friends so they did this blood pack? And Reggie,” he grunts as he pulls a textbook out of his bag and tosses it aside, Alex feels his brows pull together as he starts to follow Lukes train of thought, “The other day you said you were worried about us going up to middle school. So I thought why not do a blood pact?”

Luke still has his attention firmly on his bag, trying to find something, so he misses the alarmed look that Alex shoots at Bobby and the responding grin that graces Reggie’s face. He can see exactly how this will play out. Luke will make the first cut and Reggie will suddenly remember he doesn’t like the sight of blood and Bobby will go too deep and Alex will have to find a way to get the three of them down a tree without crying.

“Dude, we can’t do a blood pact!”

“Why not?” Reggie asks, lips sliding down in a frown.

“Yeah, why not?” Luke echoes and he’s got half of something pulled out of his bag that Alex can’t identify. But it doesn’t look like a knife, so that’s a little reassuring.

“Because,” he starts slowly pointing first at Reggie, “You don't like the sight of blood for starters.”

Alex watches as Reggie’s mouth forms a small ‘o’, his head bobbing up and down as if he’d forgotten that fact, but Luke rolls his eyes and finally pulls his hand out of his bag and with it comes a carton of something.

“I know that, I didn’t mean a real blood pact,” he shakes his head and Alex blinks, thoroughly confused, “The blood bits’ not the important part, it’s just the whole y’know, promising we’ll always be friends. But we still need to do something kinda gross to make it meaningful, so I went and bought tomato juice. It’s why I was late.”

The grin is back on Reggie’s face and even Bobby is nodding along now. Alex looks from the cartoon in Luke's hands to his friends faces before blowing out a sigh because well. It wasn't the worst idea Luke had had and it would be nice. For them to make a pact, to always be friends. For nothing to change between them.

“How do we do this then?” He asks and it's worth it, giving in, to see the bright smile take over Lukes face as he launches into his plan.

Alex should have expected something to go wrong, it was sort of his job in the group. To worry. But he’d gotten so caught up in the moment, in the sentiments and little speeches Luke said they each had to make, that he forgot to worry about the next stage.

It almost happens in slow motion, Bobby reaches for the carton to take his drink at the same moment that Reggie tries to pass it to him and their hands sort of collide mid pass and suddenly the carton is tipping to the side and red liquid is cascading to the floor. All over their still scattered homework.

“Crap!” In his haste to try and stop the still spilled drink Reggie drops the thing entirely, sending even more of it pouring over the wood and creeping towards them. Luke makes a grab for the juice, trying to scoop it up in his hands and if Alex’s mind wasn’t halfway to panic, he’d have probably burst out laughing. On autopilot Alex’s hands reach up for the fanny pack across his chest, pulling the zipper and digging through for the new pack of tissues that he’d stuffed in there that morning. Almost like he knew something was going to happen.

All their homework is ruined – Alex can’t wait to explain this one to their teacher on Monday – and when they all climb down the tree an hour later they all watch as a trail of red slides down the bark. Despite the mess it had caused, Alex has to give it to Luke, the tomato juice really did look like blood. And he feels closer to his three best friends, which he guesses is worth using his whole supply of tissues.

two.

“Fuck!”

It’s not really the first thing Alex wants to hear as he steps into their rehearsal space. Aka Luke’s parent’s basement that they’d reluctantly agreed to let them use until Bobby’s parents agreed to let them clear out their garage. It was so annoying, waiting for their parents to agree to simple things.

His eyes glance around the mostly empty space, jumping from the fold up chairs and second hand amps and his drums and Reggie’s abandoned bass before landing on Bobby who’s kneeling on the ground near the back wall, guitar leaning against the chipped concrete.

“You okay?” Alex says and flinches when Bobby flinches, turning around quickly to look at him. Either Bobby was too wrapped up in whatever was wrong and hadn’t heard him or Alex had finally perfected walking silently and could start sneaking downstairs at night for a snack.

“I just–” he breathes out a sigh, gesturing helplessly at his guitar and for the first time Alex notices the missing string, “It snapped and I can’t get the new one on.”

“Oh,” that doesn’t really seem worth the tense set of Bobby’s shoulders or the slight shaking of his fingers as he tries to get the new string out of the packet. With a small frown Alex kneels down next to his friend and carefully takes the packet out of his hands. “Want some help?”

As soon as the strings are out of his hands Bobby seems to collapse a little, shoulder against the wall and head dropping with a soft thud, eyes following as he opens the pack. Of them all, Bobby is the most closed off about his feelings, which Alex supposes, isn’t actually that weird for a thirteen year old. But when Luke –- who’s never been able to keep emotions off his face or out of his songs -- and Reggie -- who is never shy about laying his head on your shoulder and telling you he’s sad -- are your friends, it gets a little weird. Even Alex knows he’s crap at hiding how he feels about stuff.

They're three open books with a locked vault.

Because Bobby has a special skill of hiding his feelings behind a mask of indifference and jokes that he’s never offered to teach them. Which is normally fine, but sometimes things leak through and one of them notices that somethings wrong, like right now. Alex has watched him restring his guitar without issue so many times before, never once have his fingers shook.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Alex tries to decide if he should push or just wait it out or ask when the others are around so he can’t avoid the question. His last option makes him frown, because he’d hate it if they did that to him. Put him on the spot about something. And what if there wasn’t even anything wrong and Alex was just overthinking it? Maybe Bobby was just tired, or this string was just particularly tricky?

“Dude, I can practically hear you thinking.” Bobby says, huffing out a shallow laugh and Alex’s eyes widen a little as he looks up in time to see him shuffle around so his back is against the wall, legs stretching out in front of him.

“Sorry,” Alex starts, hands freezing in the air.

“Nah it’s--” he shakes his head, one shoulder shrugging as he frowns at nothing, “It’s fine.”

Alex thinks that’s the end of it, that Bobby isn’t going to say anything else and he’ll just have to wait it out and pretend that something isn’t clearly wrong. Putting the string down he pulls his fanny pack around so he can reach the little pocket hidden on the back (he’s pretty sure you’re meant to keep money in it, but well, he rarely has more than a few dollars on him) and pulls out the little multi-tool that his dad had gotten him for Christmas. Something about ‘being a man now’ and how ‘you can help a cute girl out’. So far all he’d used it for was clipping strings and once to unscrew a vent when Luke accidentally pushed his notebook through.

“I think my parents are getting a divorce.”

That almost makes him choke on his own spit, head whipping around to look at Bobby and all thoughts of his dad leaving his head.

“What?” he doesn’t mean to say it so loud, but judging by the way Bobby winces he must have practically shouted it. “Sorry, I just--” he doesn’t know what to say, mouth opening wordlessly. None of them have the best home lives, all their relationships with their parents have their issues.

But Bobby’s have always been -- well not the most reliable, but most consistent. Together, but distant. Together, but not home each weekend. Together, but happy? Alex feels a little like his world view has been tilted. Because if anyone's parents should be getting a divorce, shouldn’t it be Reggie’s? He bites at his lip at the thought, instantly regretting it.

“Pretty sure my mom caught my dad sleeping with his secretary,” he says with a small frown, wiping his cheek across his shoulder and Alex drops the multi-tool on top of the string and shuffles his way across the floor until he’s sitting next to Bobby, backs against the wall. “Which is pretty fucking cliche of him. But yeah. I caught them fighting about it last night.”

Alex doesn’t know what to say or do. This isn’t exactly a conversation he’d come prepared for or thought he’d ever have to have. Alex was still trying to remember his new school schedule, he didn’t have the time to prepare for possible emotional family conversations. He wishes Luke was here, or Reggie, so he didn’t feel so much pressure to say the right thing.

“That sucks man,” he blows out a breath, drawing his knees up so he can rest his hands on his things, fingers tapping across his jeans. “You wanna stay at mine tonight? We can rent Back to the Future and eat my sisters stash of popcorn?”

“Can we get the second one too?” There’s a slight smile tugging at Bobby’s lips and Alex returns it, fingers stilling as he feels some of the tension in his shoulders release.

“Course man, can’t just watch the first.”

three.

There was an unspoken knowledge in their friend group.

Luke had a tendency to get into fights he couldn’t win.

Sure, they were almost always in deference of Reggie or Bobby or him, but Alex really wished he’d stop getting into them. Or would at least start to win. Honestly, you’d think by now that Luke would know how to throw a better punch, or least know how to dodge one.

It was a little embarrassing, the amount of fights that Luke had lost -- not that Luke saw it that way. Any fight that resulted in him sporting a black eye or split lip, not his friends, was a win to him. Which was a nice sentiment, but Alex was fairly sure that his idiotic heroics were going to give him a heart attack one day.

Luke’s constant scrapes were why Alex had started to carry around band-aids and disinfectant and bandages in the first place. All stored carefully in his fanny pack along with his inhaler and extra guitar picks and a granola bar for Reggie.

It was also why Alex wasn’t all that surprised when Luke found him after school, holding his wrist carefully against his chest with one hand and trying to wipe a dribble of blood off his lip on his shoulder. A split lip, a scrap across his cheek, and once he got a better look, Alex was pretty sure he’d find split knuckles too.

“Have you got a band-aid or something?” Luke’s words come out a little mumbled as he tries not to reopen the cut on his lip and Alex just raises an eyebrow at him. A band-aid? Really?

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment Alex mentally counts to ten, reminds himself that his friend probably has a valid reason for looking like this.

Even though it’s only been twenty minutes since he last saw him. All he had to do was wait by their bikes while Alex went to talk to their history teacher about something. Twenty minutes alone and he’d found himself a fight.

“That’s –” he starts, then shakes his head, letting his shoulders drop as he breathes out a sigh and reopens his eyes, “Okay. Come on.”

Most of the school has cleared out as he leads them towards an empty bench, pushing Luke down onto it and pulling at the zip of his fanny pack to dig out the little homemade first aid kit he’d put together in a ziplock bag.

“Do I want to ask what happened?” He holds out a hand palm up for Luke to put his injured one in, biting his lip as he inspect the split skin and dried blood. It’s not as bad as he’d thought it would be, and it means Luke at least got one punch in this time.

“Some guys were laughing cause Bobby tripped getting on the bus and-” Luke hisses out a breath as Alex pours some water over his hand and starts gently dabbing at the cuts with a tissue, “Reggie dropped his bag when he tried to help him up. And I told ‘em it wasn’t funny and they said it was and I said it wasn’t and–- you get it.”

Luke shrugs up at him, starts trying to chew on his bottom lip before remembering it’s hurt and gives Alex a sheepish smile. Which is just annoying. Because Alex is the one trying to be annoyed here, trying to keep a stern look at his face even as locks of blonde hair fall in front of his eyes and he has to blow them away.

“You know you don’t have to start a fight every time someone’s mean to us, right?” He balls up the damp bloody tissue to put in the bin later and reaches for the cheap roll of bandages that he’d swiped from his mom's first aid kit at home. (All his medical knowledge comes from his mom, from watching her volunteer at church feats and garden parties as to who to go to when you got a little hurt. For someone with such a fully stocked box of medical tools, she sure did just pass out band-aids and suggest a glass of water a lot.)

“First, I didn’t actually start this fight. The one with the lip piercing threw the first punch,” Luke points his uninjured hand at him, like he’s just made a good argument before his lips pull down into a frown. “And I know I don’t have to. But I–- People are mean to you guys about stuff that doesn’t make sense. I don’t like that. Plus everyone knows that you guys would never do anything back, except maybe Bobby if it was really bad, and I just want them to know I think their assholes.”

It feels like there's more to it then that, Luke doesn't supply anymore insights into his thought process and Alex is too worried about their upcoming history text to push it today.

"You’re so-” Alex starts but stops himself, rolling his eyes as he ties off the bandage and shakes his head at Luke. “That’s a really stupid reason to get in all these fights, you do know that right?”

“Yup!” He inspects his hand, the off-white bandage wrapping around his knuckles and flexes his fingers to test how tight it’s tied, then his eyes drift to the ziplock bag and the band-aids, “You got any of those cool glow in the dark ones?”

Alex opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, but no words come out. It still surprises him, even after being friends for so long, how willing Luke is to get hurt for them. How he doesn’t seem to see any issue with it. He really hopes that one day he won’t feel the need to take a punch for any of them, that he won’t need to. But until then Alex supposes he doesn’t mind being a fourteen year old first responder. It’s kinda fun, sometimes. Like when he gets to dictate who gets which band-aid.

“You used the last glow in the dark one on Sunday. So you’re stuck with trucks.”

He’s still wearing the band-aid with little trucks on a dirt track across his cheek when he comes into school the next day and Alex really tries to stay annoyed at him. But it’s kinda hard when the only reason he’s got the cut is because he loves his friends. So Alex just rolls his eyes fondly and makes a mental note to ask his mom for glow in the dark band-aids when she next goes to the store.

four.

“You think Ron’s got the new Garth Brooks record?”

At least, that’s what Alex thinks Reggie asks, because it’s more like a mumbled group of sounds as the other boy stuffs a large forkful of pasta into his mouth. He glances at Luke, eyebrow raised to see if he’d understood the question right. And judging by the face Luke pulls, he thinks he did.

“I mean, probably. But we’ve been over this. No country in the van.”

Alex knows he’s trying to look stern and serious, Reggie knows it too. But Luke’s nose is scrunched up and his eyebrows are drawn together and his lower lip almost looks like it’s about to start quivering. Stern and serious isn’t the first thought that comes to mind. Cute, adorable, puppy like, sure. Stern or angry? Never.

“You’re just jealous,” Reggie starts, gulping as he swallows his mouthful and makes them both wait as he dramatically takes a sip of his soda too, “You wish you could do a country twang. It’s okay Luke-y, not everyone is musically gifted.”

He bites the end of his straw to keep from laughing at the look of annoyance that crosses Luke’s face, the desired reaction if Reggie’s widening grin is anything to go by.

“Dude you’ve done it now,” he mutters softly, but he can’t really find it in him to be too mad about the rant that Reggie has just triggered. Because it’s the first time in weeks that Reggie has smiled fully, and the bruise on his left cheekbone is now a faded purple and the arm he had been extra careful about touching is resting full length on the table as he taps the end of his fork on the wood.

Luke seems to know it too, if the gentle smile that briefly crosses his face when Reggie looks away for a moment is anything to go by. It had been to Luke's house that he’d run too, and Alex is honestly pretty proud of his friend for not leaping out his bedroom window to go fight Reggie’s dad the second he’d shown up. Alex was fairly confident that if Reggie asked to play nothing but country music for the next ten years Luke would agree if it meant they’d get to see his full blown smile without hints of sadness.

Sometimes, Alex wished he had half the confidence and determination that Luke had. Wished that when his fight or flight instincts were put to the test his reaction wasn’t flight. That he wasn’t always a little bit terrified of what would happen if he was honest with everyone, of what would happen if he threw a punch instead of trying to talk something out.

Probably just result in spending more money on band-aids and bandages.

Blinking the thoughts from his head, the blonde tunes back into the conversation. Pros and cons of having one country song on their demo.

“Come on! We’d all so rock a cowboy hat,” Reggie punctuated his point by stabbing his fork into the table, plastic progs snapping and flying into the air. “Fuck sake,” he mutters, a little mournfully as he pulls his arm back in to look at the one remaining bent prong and then down at his still half full container of pasta.

“I think the fork disagrees with the cowboy hats,” Luke grins, flicking one of the little plastic pieces at Reggie who just pouts for a moment longer.

And Alex can see where his brain goes, can practically track the thought process and the solution he comes up with as Reggie tosses his fork at Luke and starts to try and pick up the food with his fingers. But before he gets that far, Alex is pulling another fork out of his fanny pack, metal and wrapped in a napkin.

(Someone had once said to be prepared for all possible situations. Sixteen year old Alex had decided that meant he should start carrying extra cutlery around. Just in case. In case of what, he hadn’t known, but apparently it wasn’t a totally crazy idea, so screw you Bobby for laughing at it.)

“Here.”

Reggie accepts the fork, pout turning to a smile and sticking his tongue out at Luke who just rolls his eyes.

“Alex’ll do a country song with me, won’t you?” Both pairs of eyes are looking at him now and he doesn’t know if Reggie is being a 100% serious about a country song for their demo or wearing cowboy hats on stage, but he does know that either way it’ll make Luke do his cute angry face again and well. Alex can’t resist making him make that face.

“Oh yeah. We’d rock cowboy hats.”

five.

Being dead was -- not what Alex had expected. And it’s a little weird, because growing up he’d spent a lot of time thinking about what happened after you died. Where you went and what you could do and who would be there.

His parents were very insistent on ‘be a good person in life, don’t commit any sins and get into heaven’ so, when they’d died and ended up in a dark room, Alex had thought that was proof that being gay really was a sin and his parents had been right and now he’d dragged his best friends into hell with him. Luke might blame himself for them dying, and Reggie might blame himself for them being eternity linked, but Alex would always blame himself for that 25 year black room limbo.

Even if it wasn’t his fault. But he couldn’t convince the others that it wasn’t their fault, and they couldn’t convince him it wasn’t his fault and it was a loop they’d been stuck in for months now.

Julie called them all idiots for it. Fondly. With an eye roll. And a gentle smile when she’d pull them into a group hug.

Because they could do that now.

Hug her. So they did it a lot.

Group hugs and side hugs and high fives and piling onto her bed on a Sunday afternoon to watch one of the many Disney films they’d missed out on. They all latched onto her more than they already had.

Julie had pulled them out of the dark room -- hell -- and back into the light and then she’d saved them from zapping out of existence. Reggie might insist she was a witch and Luke would say a star, but Alex, who had a pretty rocky relationship with religion and God, was fairly confident in calling Julie an angel. (He was also willing to bet good money on in a fight, between a god, death and Julie, that Julie would win.)

And she didn’t seem to mind that they’d gotten a little...clingy over the last few months since the zapping had stopped. Which was nice, that they hadn’t annoyed her enough to send them packing yet. That she seemed just as attached to them as they were to her.

It’s with that thought in his mind that Alex knocks on her bedroom door. Julie loves them, Julie only invokes the boundaries rule when they snoop through her stuff, Julie isn’t about to tell them to leave because Alex is a little bored. At least he hopes she won’t.

“Come in.”

He almost misses her response, both because of his mildly spiralling thoughts and because her voice is soft, quite. Now his thoughts turn to worry as he pokes his head through the doors, eyes immediately landing on Julie tucked into her bed, surrounded by pillows and curtains closed. His brows pull together as he hesitantly steps through the door.

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to keep his voice as low as hers had been. Slowly she lifts her head from the pillow, brushing curls out of her eyes as she looks at him with a small smile.

“Oh Alex, hey. I-- yeah, I’m fine. Just--” she trails off, blinks a little blearily at him and for the first time he realises that he’s woken her up. Shit. “Not feeling too great. Was trying to nap.”

“Shit, sorry, I’ll go. I didn’t know you weren’t well, I’ll um yeah. I’ll go.” He’s got half his leg through the door when she calls his name, a slight laugh in her voice and looks at her over his shoulder.

“It’s okay, you can stay. I wasn’t really getting much rest anyway.”

He opens his mouth to ask if she’s sure, but Julie’s already shuffling around in her bed, moving pillows and lifting the duvet for him to climb in next to her. Alex hesitates for a moment, bites his cheek before turning around fully and walking over, kicking his shoes off before sliding under the cover and making himself comfy.

“Why do you have so many pillows?” He asks, fluffing one up behind his head and moving another one to fill the space between the edge of the bed and the little side table.

“Don’t know,” she shrugs, and he knows she’s watching him with amusement when he repositions the pillow next to her head so it’s straight. He frowns a little at her answer because, well, that’s not really an answer. How does one person have like, ten pillows on their bed and not know why or how?

“That's not-- okay,” he sighs, letting it go, because now that he’s next her, Alex can see she’s shivering a little and her cheeks look flushed and on instinct he reaches out his hand to lay it against her forehead. She lets out a small hiss and Alex moves to move away when her hand comes up, warm fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep his hand in place.

“Stay there, your hands are cold, they feel nice.” And well, they might make fun of Luke for not being able to say no to Julie, but so far he hasn’t been able to do it yet either. So he keeps his hand on her forehead and moves his other to gently cup her chin and part of her cheek until he’s basically holding her head up in his hands, he watches as her eyes flutter shut.

“Have you taken anything?” He tries to keep his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb her too much but her eyes open and she shakes her head, blowing out a sigh as she moves herself out of his hold, head hitting one of her many pillows.

“All we have is cough syrup and dad’s out and I didn’t want to bother Victoria.”

So she’d taken herself to bed and tried to tackle whatever illness she had alone? Alex frowns at her, lets out a small tut as he pulls his fanny pack across his chest, unzips it and roots around for the ziplock bag of first aid things before pulling out a half used pack of paracetamol, leaving the bag on the bed. He’s dead, and so are his most clumsy friends, they don’t really need band-aids anymore.

There’s a bottle of water on the table next to him which Alex grabs, pops out two of the little white tablets and passes them both to Julie, who raises her eyebrows at him, but accepts.

“You know you’ve got three ghosts who would have happily gone to a store to get you something if you’d asked, right?” He’s sort of teasing, but sort of not as he watches her sink back against the pillows, water bottle still in her grasp. Turning her head a little, just enough so she can see him she shoots him a small smile.

“Didn’t want to bother you guys. You're my friends, not my personal shoppers and yesterday Luke had to go to the store because we forgot milk. Don’t won’t you thinking I’m just using you for your ghostly teleportation,” she says it like a joke, but there’s a sad sort of look in her eyes. The kind of look he used to see in Reggie’s back when they were kids and he thought they’d get annoyed with him. It had never even occurred to Alex that Julie might think they’d get fed up with her.

“Jules, you let us live in your garage. For free. The least we can do is the occasional magical shop,” he shuffles down in the bed until his head is resting on a pillow and they’re eye to eye, “And anyway, you could never bother us. We kinda owe our whole existence to you and you’re family and if you need help it’s a no questions asked type situation.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She looks at him for a moment, eyes searching his face for something before she lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing and then she’s shuffling across the bed to lay her head on his shoulder, hair tickling his cheek but he doesn’t mind. Alex brings one arm up around her back and pulls her closer, tugging the duvet up to cover them a little more. They lie in silence for a while, Alex idly drumming his fingers on her upper arm and Julie tracing the letters on his hoodie. He doesn’t mean to pop the little peaceful bubble they’ve created but a thought shoves its way to the forefront of his mind and his fingers still.

“Hey uh, so do you think paracetamol goes out of date? Because that one I gave you is at least twenty-six years old.”

+one

Maybe, if Alex hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own head and trying to work through all of the sudden changes in his life, he would have noticed sooner.

At least, that’s what he’s going to tell himself and anyone else who might ask. He had a lot going on. He couldn’t possibly notice everything. Even something as big as this.

So yeah, he was going to blame all the crazy shit in his life for his sudden obliviousness.

The skate park was mostly empty when he got there – he forgot how long it could take to get somewhere when you couldn’t just poof into existence wherever you wanted. Being dead might have been bad, but he really missed the teleporting powers – which made sense, because the sun was starting to set and the air was growing colder. But he could hear the sound of wheels on concrete in the distance and followed it.

For a while, Alex just watched. He had never really cared all that much about skateboarding before (and honestly, he didn’t care all that much about it now, but he did like a certain skater an awful lot), but he had to admit it was fascinating to watch. The coordination and the skill and the lack of fear about falling.

Alex had always been scared about falling, physically and mentally and in love.

About hitting the ground and getting hurt and not being able to get back up. And he had fallen a lot. Out of a treehouse and down stairs. Had been pushed down. On concrete and on grass. Had been hurt. Luke and Reggie had always been there to help him back up though.

It didn’t mean it didn’t still scare him shitless. Falling.

Because what if one day he fell and there was no one to help him back up? What if one day he fell and everyone around him decided he was too much effort to help back up? What if one day he fell and staying down just seemed like the better option?

It was supposed to be one of the perks of coming back as a ghost. Of knowing that if he fell he couldn’t physically get hurt, and that Luke and Reggie would be there because they were always there and he was dead, falling in love shouldn’t have been a worry.

Of course, then he’d gone and got knocked off his feet, stinging palms and phantom bruises and hair flipping as the rest of the street blurred and all he could see was Willie.

And suddenly he was falling. Physically and mentally and in love.

Which was pretty fucking crazy. Who fell in love at first sight anyway? That wasn’t supposed to be a real thing. It was supposed to be something you read about or saw in silly cheesy rom-coms or from songs that people in love wrote.

So he’d met Willie, had fallen face first onto the ground, literally, and into like and then into love and then into life again.

It was a lot.

It was too much.

Too much change and more change and changing back and unanswered questions.

Was it really so hard to send a couple of ghost handbooks down?

So Alex had gone for a walk, to clear his head, to sort through his thoughts, to get a grip on the feeling of falling. He’d ended up at the skate park without really meaning too, not that he’d had any real destination in mind.

Sitting on a bench, he pressed two fingers to the pulse point on his wrist, counting the beats –- it’s been a few weeks and he’s still not used to having a beating heart, is always a little worried it’s all some big trick and he’ll wake up one day back as a ghost -– as he watches Willie go down a ramp and flip his board mid air.

Still being able to see with Willie was one of the many unanswered questions that he had.

(Maybe he should start making a list. Not that he thought he’d ever get any answers for them, but it might be nice. To have a list of all the questions about his death and his after life and his re-life. He could call it Tales of BHD (before hot-dog death). Julie might have some comments.)

Deep down Alex knew he shouldn’t question it. They’d been given a second chance, it was a miracle and magic and amazing. But he’d never done very well with questions without answers. He wished he could accept it as easily as Luke and Reggie and Julie had. That it was love or a gift or will power. It didn’t seem very likely, but he wasn’t about to argue it.

They’d been dead. Now they weren’t. It was a miracle.

He might have thought so if he could still hug Willie. But it was like when they’d first met Julie, he reached out to touch his shoulder, his hand, and passed right through him. Alex now knows how Luke felt and kind of feels bad for ever teasing him about. A re-lifer being in love with a ghost is kinda painful. And yet, he can’t seem to stop himself from seeking Willie out. No one’s ever called Alex the smart one.

There’s a sudden crashing sound, wood hitting concrete and Willie letting out a string of curse words and Alex immediately zeros in on him. On the ground. Without really stopping to think about it Alex is up off the bench and running the short distance until he’s next to him by the time Willie has pushed himself up onto his knees.

“Shit are you okay?” He reaches out a hand, to touch his shoulder, to help him up, he doesn’t know. But stops himself short. Because he can’t touch him, and every time that his hand phases through they both look away sadly.

“I’m– yeah I’m good. Had worse spills,” there’s a toothy smile on his face as he says it, but Willie’s eyes have caught on Alex’s still outstretched hand, a sadness flashes across his eyes quickly before vanishing.

Alex just stands there a little awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as he watches Willie stand up, wincing a little at some unknown injury – which okay, when he thinks back on it, that should have been his first sign.

“What ha–” Alex starts, but his eyes catch on Willie’s knees and the blood slowly spilling down his leg from a cut. “Shit you’re bleeding! You said you were fine!” He doesn’t mean to sound so accusational, but well, how can he help if no one tells him when they're hurt?

Willie looks at him in confusion before down at his legs, eyes widening at the blood and Alex starts to worry that the other boy might faint. Does he not like the sight of blood? Oh god, he should probably sit down before he gets more hurt.

“Sit down I should have something for it, hang on.” Without thinking, Alex puts his hand on Willie’s shoulder and guides him back down to the ground, to the lip off the end of one of the ramps and makes sure he’s sat before turning his attention to his fanny pack. His fingers catch on a drum stick, a lip balm, one of Julie’s scrunchies, his inhaler, but no ziplock bag of first aid. Shit. He’d left it in Julie’s room, months ago. Because he’d been dead. And hadn’t needed any of it. Fuck.

He looks back at Willie, mouth opening to tell him the bad news, but Willie is already looking at him with wide, scared eyes. He has one hand gripping the side of the ramp and his other is resting over his chest. Over his heart.

“Alex,” he starts and that’s when Alex realises that he doesn’t look scared. It's shock. There’s tears pooling in his eyes and, like a bus hitting him, Alex realises that his hand hadn’t phased through when he’d guided him to sit down.

“You– I– What?” Is all he gets out, which doesn’t make any sense but Willie seems to get it because he nods his head. And then Willie is standing up, hissing a little as he unbends his knee and dimly, Alex is aware that it’s started bleeding a little again, but all that is second to the feeling of Willie carefully, slowly, gently, reaching for his hand. And holding it. Fingers linking. Solid and real and warm. With his other hand Alex reaches for his neck, lays his fingers against soft skin and feels for a pulse. For the fluttering of a heartbeat and lets out a wet laugh when he finds it. He doesn’t know when he started crying, but it doesn’t matter.

Alex uses the hand that Willie is still holding to pull the other boy towards him, lets the fingers on his neck slip around until his arm is around his back, and is pulling him into a hug he’s been craving for a month.

“How?” It’s the first thing Willie says as he pulls away, not far, because Alex had let out a small whine as he’d tried to step away and wasn’t even ashamed of it.

“I have no idea,” he shrugs, because he doesn’t. He has no answers for any of this. But he’s willing to not question it, he decides, if he and the people he loves most in the world get a second chance at life. Together. “I’m starting to not question these things and just say thank you.”

Willie laughs then, a little watery, but still bright and kind and so full of life that no one would have ever known he’d been a ghost a short while ago.

“Fair enough,” they’re still stood close together, hands awkwardly intertwined between them and Alex’s fingers are tangled in his hair. But neither of them make any move to pull away. Willie pulls a face, lips twisting to the side and Alex raises an eyebrow at him, “Where the hell am I going to live now? Caleb already hated that I've been sleeping at the club, he's never gonna let me back in now."

Now it’s Alex’s turn to laugh, shaking his head a little at the question, because at least this one he has an answer too. He detangles his fingers from Willie’s hair carefully and takes a half step away, just enough for him to properly hold his hand, pulling him over to his abandoned skateboard.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to know the coolest girl with the coolest dad who likes to take in stray used to be ghosts.”

Willie picks up his skateboard and when Alex starts to walk, pulls them to a stop, a worried little crease between his brows as he looks at him.

“Are you sure Julie will be cool with me crashing with you all? I don’t want to like, intrude or get in the way.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d re-kill me if I didn’t bring you home with me,” Alex shakes his head, a little fondly and with a little exasperation. But this time, when he starts to walk, pulling Willie along with him, his boyfriend doesn’t stop them. And if this is what unanswered questions gets him, well Alex will learn to live with them.

#julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #willie #willie jatp #alex x willie #jatp #jatp fic #bobby wilson #trevor wilson #wait. what tag do you use for him fuck fgdhjs #rosie vs writing #*#still haven't sorted out a fic master list or a tag should really do that huh #*fics

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golddaggers · 4 years ago

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girl crush

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader;

warnings: none really just a smidge of angst but plenty of fluff.

a/n: so here we are! i just ask of you to go kind on me because this is my first time, ok? and sort of self indulging. anyway. leave a comment/reblog if you do like it!

word count: about 2,8k. it’s a quick little thing.

It was a typical Tuesday, I’d woken up, drank my large-sized cup of coffee, and then spent almost five hours straight staring at my computer screens. Not that all of those hours had been any good, I searched and searched, but still hadn’t cracked just how I was supposed to solve the problem. Hell, about three times I was yelling at the machine, calling it ‘bloody stupid’ before trying another approach, still proven worthless.

Lunch had been skipped, I barely took a bite of my grilled sandwich before diving back to the code lines, analysing. I’ve always been so good at cracking things, finishing hard puzzles… At least I needn’t worry about a deadline breathing down my neck, this particular feature would only be out to the end-users on the major release.

Either way, the idea of not being able to come up with a solution bugged me. I could never leave things well enough alone if they were unsolved. It was only when one of my friends texted me about some old high school chick we both used to hate that was pregnant that I realised how late it was. My back hurt from spending too much time sitting down on my chair and I could feel my eyes tired, staring at a computer screen for so many hours wasn’t exactly too healthy.

At least it put the tornado of thoughts I’ve been having for the past couple of weeks to ease. I didn’t want to think about how I had the worst timing ever. Or how I was a big coward for keeping this to myself.

But… I couldn’t just tell him. Falling in love with your best friend seems easy in the movies, in reality, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. Harry and I grew up together, we were inseparable from the first time we shared toys in our old town’s playground. Never before I would’ve thought I’d be here, with butterflies rioting in my stomach when he flashed his green eyes at me. It’d be easy if I could just open up, only opening up meant I could lose our 20 and something years of friendship. That was just too much to lose.

Now it seemed as if I had lost my chance. He’d gone out on a date with a girl. They’d been going out for a while. She was… breathtaking. Golden hair, brown eyes, freckles, and a body I wouldn’t ever have. Harry wasn’t the easiest to commit to someone, not that he was a womaniser or something within those lines… He just had problems. Like we all do, I suppose. He seemed genuinely interested in her, though, and it killed me inside to realise it.

I looked toward a corner where a tiny pink ukulele rested and decided I could do with some singing. So I go over to pick it up, playing a couple of notes to see if it was tuned. It’d been a while since I last took it between my hands. Hadn’t enough time to do anything, if I was being honest.

Sat back on my chair, I take my time to reminisce over a song I heard him humming a few days ago. Harry had been doing the dishes, something he hated, but I’d cooked for the two of us, so it was the least he could do. He laughed like a child all the way to the sink, even put on my pink apron. It wasn’t unusual for him to do them when he was in fact at home - which happened only a few handfuls of weeks at a time.

Leaning against the counter top, I watched him. Then the humming began. One would think a singer would get enough on the stage, well, maybe they do, not him though. In the shower, sending texts, doing the dishes… Harry was always singing something. Low and more to himself. I couldn’t lie, even if I wanted to, that I love when he’s home, his entire being enough to warm up the place.

That night I had been wearing one of his old tees, he leaves them everywhere. And it wasn’t unusual for me to “steal” some for myself, besides being comfy, especially the cotton sweaters, they all smelt like him. Felt homely to be inside them, as if he were sleeping next to me.

“I’ve got a girl crush…” I start, unsure if I’ve got the tone right, “Hate to admit it, but I got a heart rush, it ain’t slowing down.”

My legs are crisscrossed as I rest further back onto the black cushion of my chair. Each note fueled the turmoil growing inside my chest. It was so true, every time I looked at her, the pictures on her Instagram were flawless… I wanted to have everything she had. Because if I did, maybe he would look at me differently, he’d see me in a different light.

The very instrument on my hands had been a gift from him. I have always enjoyed playing the guitar, I came to write a few songs myself… But I’ve never seen it as something I’d want to do for a living. Didn’t like the spotlight very much, not that being friends with a worldwide known popstar helped. Paps seemed to be everywhere. It was just annoying how we couldn’t enjoy a single outing without being awakened with a buzzing phone. My other friends texting me the several headlines saying “Harry Styles has been seen yet again with childhood best friend, could they be dating?”

Got worse when we moved in together. The thing was… We didn’t really live together, yes, the house, more like a mansion if I was being honest, belonged to him and he stayed there whenever he was in London, which, if he was working too much, seldom happened. So no, we didn’t live together. Harry just thought it’d be nice for me to stay there since it was so empty all the time and I only said yes because I needed saving money to pay off the loan I had taken to cover my university tuition. It felt like a lifetime away.

I stayed because I had grown spoiled. At first, I was annoyed he didn’t let me pay for the expenses whenever he was away, I was nowhere rich, but now I made more than enough to cover the bills, even for a house as big as this one, since most of it was inhabited. He insisted on me keeping it, doing fun things I wanted to do, and I shouldn’t worry about anything else. A couple of months later, I saw the appeal to his offer. I also knew my best friend well to know he was a stubborn son of a bitch.

Everything changed when Harry told me about his golden girl. After so many years, we had grown aware of the other’s quirks, as I like to put it, we knew how to deal with one another. My point being was… Harry could be a bit sensitive when I told him about my dates, now it lights a spark of hope within me, back then, however, I brushed it off as him trying to act as a protective big brother. He, on the other hand, never had problems when talking about the people he dated to me. Often I wouldn’t care. This time… It happened right after the fatidic Tuesday.

The pain stung like a sharp edge of a knife against my heart.

“I wanna’ taste her lips, yeah, ‘cos they taste like you… I wanna’ drown myself in a bottle of her perfume...” The notes come out soft, I can hear a little metallic sound as my hands switch the notes and I keep singing the sad lyrics, “Yeah, ‘cos maybe then, you’d want me just as much...”

“Thought I had a nightingale in this room,” His accent slipped through the sentence like butter on a warm toast, “‘lo, love.”

His presence startled me, I almost dropped the ukulele. It was way too early for him to be back home from his date. Part of me wanted to ask how it’d gone and in any other situation, I would’ve. Not tonight, though. Didn’t wanna know if she had kissed him good night. If he gave her his signature green-eyed glare when he wanted something… If he’d asked for another date. My heart wouldn’t be able to cope.

“You scared me.”

“I reckon you said I was fit like a daydream,” He stuffed his chest and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you actually quoting your ex-girlfriend?” Harry rolled his eyes, dismissing my comment completely, “Why are you home already?”

“D’ya want me to leave?”

“You are ridiculous,” I say as I stand up, the Fleetwood Mac tee I had on falling to my mid thighs. It was oversized because it didn’t belong to me, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him, who has a cheeky grin directed at me. “Stop looking. You keep ditching them and I just happen to like these shirts.”

“I didn’t say anything, doll. But I was looking for that one, though I settled for that old pink striped sweater of yours.”

“So it’s with you?” My indignation seeps through, “I went nutty looking for that.”

“Looks better on me anyway.”

“Nonsense.”

The laughter shakes his whole body, yet again I am plowed with our childhood memories, that right there hadn’t changed. Harry still laughed like a little child, a boy with his blue truck toy. I felt warm inside, to watch him like that. To still have, after so long, a friend like he was to me.

Harry goes quiet then, bright green staring right at me. I know what’s coming. It’s happened before - I sang about the boys I liked quite often, I suppose. So it was obvious he wanted to know who was stealing my attention this time. He wanted to know who I was singing about.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Wha’? I didn’t even open my mouth.”

“I know you,” Back on my feet, I grab my plate with the remains of what was supposed to be my lunch and head out to the kitchen. He followed me around like a stray puppy.

The kitchen is an enormous place. Wooden cupboards with just about every piece of china one could dream of, fine crystal glasses for wine and champagne, bowls, plates, even goblets could be found. Inside the several drawers, besides the silver cutlery, I had managed to fold some table sheets I bought at a flea market. Harry would lose his mind if he knew where they came from. On the left corner, a tall two-door grey fridge, with a shopping list on its door to remind me that I needed to go out tomorrow to get things. Next to the two basin sink, was an electric cooktop that had become my best friend, I loved to cook there, staring out the window - the yard was beautiful, green grass all year long, though during spring the most gorgeous flowers blossomed. I loved that place very much.

Right in the middle was an island, my lone cactus trying to make it a little less plain. Which wasn’t that hard, the dark marble surface glimmered under the led light.

After I threw out the sandwich and put the plate on the sink, I started pacing around to gather things for dinner, fresh tomatoes to make the sauce with homegrown onions and garlic. I liked cultivating my food. I got flour, eggs, olive oil, and salt. It was all I needed to make the dough.

I could still feel his eyes on me, as I moved effortlessly through his kitchen, collecting everything I needed.

“What do you want?”

“You’re too stressed,” Harry says, standing up straight and standing next to me, “Is it about the boy you were singing about? Or girl. I dunno.”

“Seriously?” Can’t help but shake my head, “That’s your approach? ’M not telling you, H.”

“Oh, you’re keepin’ secrets from me. That’s new.”

He grabs the knife on my hand, starting to chop the onion into tiny cubes. Always skillful with his hands, he was.

“‘M not keeping secrets. It’s just none of your business.”

“Ouch.” Harry pours the onion into the pan, stealing the tomatoes to start chopping them as well. I focused on the dough. “You’re so adamant about not telling me I’ll start thinking it’s me.”

The entire world stills for me when he says that out loud, and I don’t know what to say, so I keep cracking the eggs, pouring them over the flour then adding, by eye, what I considered to be enough of olive oil. At last, I put two pinches of salt into the mix.

My silence seems to annoy him further.

“C’mon, it was a joke.” He tries, gently grabbing my arm and I see myself having to stop mixing, “I really want to know, though, have to make sure you’re with someone worthy of you.”

“Why?”

Couldn’t look him in the eye, I have them glued to the bowl with the sticky batter. The hand on my arm sneaks to my back, he’s warm and I tremble under his touch, my breath comes out a bit harsher.

Harry takes a deep breath before answering, “I care about you, bunny.”

“Is that all it is?” Now I dare to look up, to find those emeralds. I liked quite a lot to look at them, they were akin to shiny jewelry and I was the dazzled child. Right now they showed nothing but a shade of confusion.

“What else?”

A tightness in my chest grows, I know right away I am about to cry and I don’t want to. Don’t want to fall apart in front of him. In the middle of cooking. When things seemed to be going amazing for the two of us. Despite my most intimate wishes, I ended up doing just that, my dirty hands falling limp as he held me in his arms, asking over and over what had happened.

His chin rests on the top of my head and I can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. My bottom lip is quivering. I was so tired of being tough, I just wanted to be loved. To be loved by him.

“I need to tell you something,” A sniff makes me sound whiny, “Promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Never,” Harry speaks so quietly I believe him. “Could never be mad at you, bunny.”

“Okay…”

I bring his much bigger hands into my own. They warm up under his touch. If I’m being honest, I warm up completely. Body and soul. He gives a soft squeeze, urging me to speak. It’s needless to say that he’s anxious, always being the curious one between the two of us.

“The song… Well, um, I was singing for you.” It was as quiet as a whisper, “I like you.”

“Don’t be silly.” His face goes serious, “You’re not kidding me, are ya?”

“Do you think I would?”

There’s a lump at the bottom of my throat, tears still falling. I didn’t have a problem being vulnerable with him, or opening up - now I was embarrassed. I would apologise if I hadn’t felt his warm lips start kissing my salty-teared cheeks, only to finish up with a chaste kiss on my own.

“What are you doing?” I pull back, shocked that he’d kissed me. “Do you...”

“I am so glad you’ve said first, fancying you for the longest time hasn’t been easy. But I suppose it gave me quite the inspiration.”

“You’ve written about me?”

“More times than I am proud to admit.”

This time it’s me who kisses him, standing on the tip of my toes, losing my fingers into the soft curls. It seemed very much unreal to me. He never struck me as the type to keep feelings in check or to himself. I should’ve seen something. Or maybe I did and didn’t want to face that the best person I could’ve fallen for was right in front of me.

Then I think about her. The golden-haired beauty. She wouldn’t be too pleased.

“She’s just a friend, bunny.”

“Reading my thoughts now, Styles?”

“Nah, just know you too well.”

“Yeah, I guess you do.”

Harry lifts me, kissing me again. And I can’t help but feel whole. Like a bit of me that was missing had been set on its place.

Bless the will to play a song.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #best friend!harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry x you #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #a smidge of angst #just a smidge #gorgeous english boy

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i-did · 4 years ago

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what would make renee angry in your opinion?

I had a really hard time answering this one actually. I thought about it for a while and asked a lot of my friends to see if they had any ideas, and here's what I came up with:

1) A professor or TA who is super shitty to her

Just a really shitty teacher.

as she goes through college, she’s bound to run into some assholes, and I don’t think Renee has perfect grades in the past or present. her not knowing academic terminology and feeling out of place in the college setting would make a lot of sense for a lot of the foxes, and Renee is good on putting on a smile, but she still eventually gets that one professor or TA that scoffs at her questions and “doesn’t have time for the likes of her” and the constant complete dismissal digs painfully under her skin and brings out her anger.

2) People who are intensely rude to her despite her best efforts to be as kind as she can be

Renee is patient, but we all have our limit. similar to the one above, but Renee dealing with someone who is just rude all the time and she struggles to keep reminding herself “we all have bad days, I don’t know what they’re going though.” Renee working in a coffee shop and a woman bumping into Renee and spilling her coffee on herself, only to yell at Renee for an hour, ignoring all of Renee’s pleasant customer service smiles. said customer later on becoming a regular and repeating this behavior, cutting off people in parking lots and flipping them off, Renee being kind and trying to give her a free scone only for the woman to tell her she hates scones, Renee offering something else only for the woman to tell her to shut up. that shit wears you down, and Renee still dumping her kindness onto someone every time only for it to backfire or be dismissed would make her have to take a few deep breaths in the back room before deciding, fuck it, she's cut off from active kindness, now only passible neutrality and not being aggressive is enough.

3) someone who refuses her help

her knowing she could really make a difference, but some people just don’t want help, and she feels helpless and angry. she's not angry at the person, but the situation of them not being ready to accept help or even able to accept help makes her so frustrated she would start to grind her teeth in her sleep. She understands how it is, how hard it can be to take the first step to change or giving up pride or whatever the hurtle may be, but that doesn’t make it any easier than her thinking in her head “just let me fucking help you!!! or anyone!!! just let anyone in to help you!!!! fuck!!!” inside her head. she knows not everyone needs help or saving, but some people do, and when they shove her back, unwilling and not ready for it over and over while she’s trying to save them, she gets frustrated that she can’t.... do anything. and just has to wait. but Renee can be patient, and she’s willing to wait.

4) Someone actively trying to wear her down and get under her skin

okay so this isn’t something that happens often, the closest Renee has really come to it is with Andrew when he first was scoping her out. but– if someone was actively trying to aggravate her, laughing at everything she said and making fun of her, pulling at her looser strings and picking at her ticks, watching to see what brought out her reaction, they could eventually do it and get under her skin. i think she wouldn’t let herself blow up at them since thats what they want, but she would silently excuse herself from the situation to take a breather. no one really does this with her, and Andrew only does this to size her up and even still his interrogation isn’t the type of harassment i’m imagining. i mean like old school bullying, not locker shoving, but the middle school girl shit that leaves emotional scars. and them being older, they’re less afraid to show it and be more straight forward mean. people don’t really do this to her tho, its too much effort to get a reaction, and when they do, its never what they would have wanted, like crying, but instead is her smile falling and then finding a way to make them feel like shit. Renee is kind, but she also knows how to play on a similar level as them, not just with fists. i HC Renee as plus size, and fuck it is hard to be different in anyway as a kid. but childhood bullying was the least of her worries and these people dont see how deep her personal self assurance has grown and how she has learned to stand with her head held high and her face serine. her and dan are quite similar in this, but dan is much more active and direct while Renee is passive in her letting it glide over her, dan has even gotten annoyed on Renee’s behalf and then annoyed that Renee was not affected and why she didn’t fight more directly back.

5) People who are overtly cruel and she struggles to sympathize with

okay so, you ever see someone so mean and rude for zero reason to someone else and you’re just like... what the fuck??? Renee doesn’t let others get to her really, but damn.... someone going after someone else in ways that are just so uncalled for and so harshly.... it gets to her. She once watched an episode of catfish where the catfisher laughed at the girl, uncaring that he crossed so many emotional lines and manipulated people without really any care. and she wanted to throw the remote and punch the tv right where the guys face was on the paused screen. nothing like someone just, kicking someone else while their down with no mercy, or making fun of someone behind their back and them not knowing, making fun of the deaf kids voice behind his back and he doesn’t see them doing it, and she’s like, man, Fuck. You. in her head. I don’t think she was like, always a nice person, in fact, i think Renee used to very much so not be the type to sit with the alone kid at lunch but instead ignore him and think “yea he’s weird, kinda ugly” without thinking much of it. But then she decided to change, and she took everything she thought it meant to be a good person, and became that. she started sitting with the alone kid, she started doing charities, she started to smile instead of punch, and she started going to church. and so when she sees cruelness she was once passive in the face of, maybe even active in, she uses kindness. Renee is she good at using taking the high road in such a graceful way it makes others feel bad. like when she tells Nicky calmly “thats not very nice” after he jokes about Seth dying in a car crash on his way from the airport book 1, and Nicky feels like shit. it feels like shit to get called out sometimes, and while its not her goal, she does know it is an effect of it. (i don’t think she’s mad at Nicky in that scene, but she did say something since she is there to protect hers and she redraws that line in that moment, especially without Allison or Seth there yet to say fuck you themselves.)

6) Injustice and systems of oppression

for these i feel she gets more frustrated, overwhelmed, and sometimes resigned. she knows how dark and shitty the world is, but she stays up at night with her hand on her heart as she breathes deep, thinking about how... utterly fucked everything is. its pretty easy for me to HC that Renee is politically far left and has seen the dark side to lack of resources and systemic issues that are just... so overwhelming she doesn’t even know what she does as just one person. world pollution, corruption, class divide, flint water crisis, the homeless crisis, the prison system, functioning segregation in school systems, just... it all. she’s had nights after volunteering where she thinks “i did something, i did.” and she has days where she realizes “...i’m doing nothing, in the end... its all for nothing, there’s just too much.” just a bad day where she sits there, thinking about how much is wrong and wont be fixed and how ‘doomed’ things are, how broken, and she doesn’t feel at a loss, but rather this deep anger that comes from who she was before.

7) herself.

Her being unable to live up to her own standards. she still thinks mean things, she has mean and cruel urges, and when she has them, she remembers that she’s still a bad person trying very hard to be a good one, and she thinks she’s still a bad person at her core. she’s not self loathing with it, but she does think to herself “i’m a hypocrite.” and sits with that thought for a minute. sparring with Andrew has helped her, to balance the two sides of her in a way that feels both self indulgent and honest to her path forward. but sometimes while sitting in that church pew, she thinks of her dead mother, her dead step father, those she turned in without batting an eye, stabbing in the back to save herself, and she thinks “i should feel something.” but she doesn’t, she wasn’t sorry then and she’s not sorry now. and she thinks, “the others call Andrew a monster, and they don’t realize that i’m one too.” and she tries to muster up something deep inside her, but she cant. and it can frustrate her, how after all these actions, all those hours of beach clean up and homeless shelters and building houses in some other country and going around clapping her hands to the songs, but she’s still the person she is deep down. and it gets to her. i think her having a conversation with Neil one day, on what it means to be a real person, is she pretending who she is? is she her thoughts or her actions? which is the real her? and Neil saying, it’s all of it. every facet of the self is still the self, he is Nathaniel and Neil and Abram and every other person he has been and will be. we change but we are also always ourselves, and her actions are just as true as her thoughts.

#renee walker #aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #ask #mailob

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thequeenb · 4 years ago

Text

Guilty Pleasure

I hate how the Professor gets diamond scenes every time so here i am

Poppy x MC

Warning: Smut

I couldn't stop thinking about her, the way she was on top of me and the way she said my name like a damn prayer. Everytime i closed my eyes images of that amazing night came back to my mind and all i can do is let it take over me

The way her blonde hair was like an angel's halo above her head, the wicked smile she gave me before kissing me fiercely, everything about that night was perfect except for the fact that it was really a one time thing.

Deep inside me i wanted her to bluff, i wanted her to just break these icy walls and reach out to me but she uploaded that video and since then sleep wasn't in my everyday routine. I sit hours thinking about 'what if's' and how things would be if one small thing wasn't done by me or her.

I sigh because here i am looking at my celling dramatically like these stupid movies. I cross my arms too stubborn to admit my feelings but deep down i know i have to find a way and talk to her but what could i even say? Thank you for ruining my life? No too melodramatic..We need to talk? No she will slam the door in my face. How about 'Long time no see?' wow i am really bad at this

I groan against my pillow running out of patience and ideas. Honestly what the fuck am i doing? She is a piece of shit after all but i can't help but see beyond her evilness.

I stand up putting on my favourite skirt and a crop top, if i go to my enemy's dorm at 3:00 am you better expect me to look perfect. I apply her favourite cherry lip gloss and i spray my strong perfume on my neck and clothes. I am really doing this

After a while of sneaking around like i am in a mafia movie i finally approach the Zeta building. The lights in Poppy's room are on so that means she isn't asleep score!

Surprisingly the door is open and then i watch Chloe and Veronica going out walking towards the exit door, okay weird moving on! I step inside and i am amazed everytime even though i have been here 3 times. The marble floor doesn't help me here because of the damn heels that i wear, thank you stilettos

Glancing around to see if anyone is around i run for the stairs and oh wow these stairs are pretty but so many. Finally i arrive on the top floor and i linger outside of Poppy's room. Now what dumbass? I roll my eyes thinking if i should knock or just leave, there is still time to leave huh?

Before i overthink about this i knock at the door softly and not long after Poppy is standing before me..with her silk robe?

"What are you doing here!" Her eyes go wide but i am too focused on that robe its really nice and--

Wowowow. I feel her nails dig into my skin as she grabs my arm dragging me inside the room. She closes the door quickly, turning around to face me

"Just because we had fun the other night doesn't mean you can be seen here!" I can hear the frustration in her voice, is she embarrassed of me?

"Way to welcome me" i roll my eyes soothing my hand, she really does have long nails, no wonder she wanted to use a vibrator

"Can you be quick, I don't want you near my room, its trashy enough"

Oh there we go again with the pathetic insults. This time it feels different because no one is around so why she still acts so cold with me?

"If you are here for the video then i cant delete it now, you always found ways to--"

Without a single sign of hesitation my mouth opens and for the first time i don't control my own words "I like you"

I place my perfectly manicured hand over my mouth shocked at what i just said. Oh no no no no this is so embarrassing! She gasps but quickly recover and the look that she gave me.. its beyond indescribable. I can't tell if its desire or anger but before she can respond a knock on the door interrupt us

I thank God this happen because I don't think i could handle whatever she was going to say.

"Poppy? I forgot my wallet here are you in here?" I can hear Chloe's voice from the other side if the door and we both freeze..oh no

"Get in the closet now" Poppy says pushing me towards her giant closet but i stop her holding her hands firmly

"Hell no, i won't be in the closet again i was already throughout my teenage years"

She rolls her eyes trying so hard not to laugh and so i look around quickly as my eye catch a glimpse of a wooden desk on the other side of the room. I smile to myself thinking what i want to do exactly so i just get comfortably under her big desk

All i can hear is Veronica's and Chloe's voices and a door closing, great i am trapped there is no coming back from this without getting embarrassed

"What took you so long" Chloe says getting inside the room

"You know a text warning me you will come here would be appreciated, i could be asleep" Poppy says clearly annoyed

"But you aren't are you?" Veronica responds and i can already imagine how angry she must be

I hear footsteps approaching the desk and i start sweating. If any of the girls find me here there is not really a good excuse is there? I was just cleaning? No Bea focus

Poppy seems to notice because suddenly her legs are one breath away from my face. She sit in her red leather chair elegantly crossing her legs, what a bummer.

"So you found your wallet you shall be dismissed" she says waving a hand at the girls but little did she know

The bed is placed across from the desk and i assume they both sat there. Poppy is like a ticking bomb ready to explode and i size all the possibilities that i have, should i tease her or should i be a good girl?

My morals have a literal fight before i know exactly what i want to do. I place my palms on her legs working my way up her center. At first i thought she would close her legs even more but to my surprise she opens them wide

"Oh my god this amazing! My YouTube video got 5 million views" Veronica says excitedly but after that everything fades away as i admire every inch of Poppy's body

She is dripping wet making me wonder what kind of thoughts was she having. She sits a little more comfortably giving me better access, this is really happening

I run my tongue all over her thighs always avoiding the place where she needs me the most. I watch her as she grips at the chair tighter and i smirk to myself for my success

"Are you listening Pops?" Chloe asks

"Oooh..yes i do i am just daydreaming about my next shopping spree" she manages to say but her voice was breathy and oh my god so hot to listen to

I finally connect with her center and she looks down at me. We lock eyes and all i can see is stars. I can see the deep desire in her eyes, the hunger is consuming her. In response i place my free hand beneath my skirt and inside my underwear

I can see her frustration but then they have to interrupt us again

"So which bag are you buying? Because i wouldn't want to match with you, last time--"

"Buy whatever you want!" She says basically moaning and i can imagine Chloe's confusion written all over her face

I find a steady rhythm as my tongue slides hard against her. I match my movements so we can both finish at the same time and i go faster letting Poppy know i am close to--

"Oooooh ye--" Poppy stops halfway through the sentence and the room falls silent

"Oh no my nail broke!!!" She says instead and i bite her thigh in warning

"Oh yikes we should go, i am not in the mood for angry Poppy" Veronica says and excitement runs through my body

"Yes ta ta! I want to be alone now" Poppy responds and i hear the door open then close

We are finally alone aren't we Miss Min-Sinclair?

"You naughty girl" i say coming out from my hiding spot

Poppy is breathing hard, her eyes filled with passion "You are going to pay for this"

Before i can find a cocky response i am bent over the desk within seconds and my mind goes blank

"Do you think you can play with fire and not get burned?" Her tone is so harsh but at the same time so incredibly sexy. I feel her lifting up my skirt and a low moan escapes my lips

"This is for embarrassing me Infront of the whole school" and just like that her palm hits hard my back side. Is this really happening?

"This is for uploading the screenshots" and again she spanks me hard but this time i call out her name loudly

She soothes my skin after each spank, she is affectionate after all isn't she? Every nerve on my body surrender to her touch and all i can do is repeat her name like a prayer

"Oh Poppy!!!"

"And this..this is for making me fall head over the heels for you" the moment her palm meets my backside i drive completely crazy. Her words still repeat themselves through my head and its enough to send a chill down my spine

She finally turns me around but she wastes no time throwing her arms around my neck

"I couldn't stop thinking about this" she breathes against my lips and i grip at her waist tighter

"Well i am not done showing you how much i like you" i respond smirking at her

Poppy smiles and i can finally feel like we are on the same page. We spend all the night screaming eachother's names and honestly? This is worth so much more than a stupid crown because this, this is hell and paradise at once.

Tag list: @lolimugly @origmansello @greatestflirt-hero @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @princessstellaris @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @ghalind @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @dibberdipper @tyrils-star @nydeiri @justastranger-passing

#play choices #pb choices #queen b #poppy min sinclair #choices fanfiction #poppy x mc #queen b poppy #choices fic #playchoices #choices #my fics

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downwiththeficness · 4 years ago

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 16

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,100

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah woke unwillingly. Rolling over, she scrubbed at her eyes, still swollen from crying herself to sleep. Brasa had held her closely as they drove away from a home Lilah wasn’t sure she would ever return to. She’d managed to hold her tears for about ten minutes, and then her will had given out.

In her state, Lilah could be forgiven for how long it had taken her to notice that they weren’t on course for Brasa’s bar. When she’d asked where they were going, Brasa had simply said, ‘home’.

‘Home’ was quite literally carved into solid stone. Accessible through an elevator hidden cleverly in a low rock formation. It opened into a completely dark corridor. Lilah let Brasa lead her by the hand into the darkness, looking back only once to catch Javier reaching down to close the doors to the elevator carriage, shutting out the only light.

Blind, Lilah’s step had faltered. Brasa took it in stride, wrapping an arm around her and acting as her guide. They reached a door, which opened to… ‘home’. It was, she supposed, average in size, though she hadn’t paid much attention to the architecture. Brasa had cosetted her in yet another deliciously comfortable bed and she had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening putting off Brasa’s questions regarding her well being.

To be fair, Lilah hadn’t known how she felt the night previous. She still wasn’t sure how she felt. Her emotions wavered between indignation and deep depression, both of which made her head ache. She pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Padding quietly to the bathroom by the illumination of a small nightlight shining near the door of the bedroom, Lilah went through the motions of cleaning herself up. No stranger to a rough night, she was unsurprised to find shadows beneath her eyes and her hair in disarray. A quick look in the vanity drawers found a comb that the used to gingerly comb out the tangles.

After washing her face, Lilah made her way to the bedroom door, peering out into the hallway. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she tip toed towards the living room. In the few moments that she’d spent standing at the threshold, waiting for Brasa to shrug off his coat and hang it up, she’d noticed how sumptuous the furniture was—an overstuffed couch, soft carpets, dark and heavy woods. Everything was all rich fabric and soft textures. And yet, it was strangely bare. No pictures, no art, no...personality.

As she made her way deeper into the house, Lilah came upon Brasa sitting in the plush chair, a book in his hand. Head bent over the pages, he looked...so completely normal that she had to blink a few times to make sure that it was, indeed, him.

Sensing her approach, he looked up, eyes assessing, “How did you sleep?”

Lilah watched as he closed the book, setting it aside, She watched as he stood and approached. She watched as he became more concerned as she failed to respond. He grasped her above the elbows, head dipping to catch her eyes. Lilah couldn’t hold the gaze, and felt ridiculous for it.

“You should eat,” he pronounced, turning her and leading her gently through a set of double doors to a small, intimate dining room.

He bade her to sit, moving past the room and through to the kitchen. Lilah leaned her elbows on the table, resting her head in her palms as she waited. Drowsy from too much sleep, she blinked lazily into the middle distance, until movement in her periphery caught her attention.

Brasa approached, a plate in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He placed both before her, nudging the plate when she hesitated. Lilah looked down at what he made, a small chuckle sounding from low in her throat. Eggs in a basket. Toads in a hole. He’d remembered.

Charmed, and more than a little grateful, Lilah picked up the fork and cut into the edge of the toast, nicking the egg yolk. As she chewed, she glanced over at Brasa, who was watching her. Though his posture was relaxed, there was a sharp light in his eyes that signaled he was studying her carefully.

“He will change his mind,” he said casually, gesturing smoothly with one hand.

Lilah paused, swallowing, “What?”

Brasa smiled, “Seth. He will change his mind.”

Eyes falling to her plate, Lilah busied herself with cutting into the second piece of toast, “You know that?”

“I do,” he answered.

“How?”

He shrugged, “I’m old.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

With a smile, he countered, “Old enough to know how men like Seth think. He’ll be mad for a while, but if he cares for you—and I think he does—he will come around.”

Lilah sighed and leaned back into her chair, “I’m so mad at him.”

Brasa nodded, saying nothing, waiting for her to continue. She looked to the ceiling, trying to gather her thoughts, to sort her emotions in a way that made any kind of sense.

“I know he’s struggling to accept…�� she gestured broadly, “All of this. I mean, I’m still trying to accept it. But...the way he treated me, like a…”

Lilah stopped, ‘kid sister’ sitting like lead on her tongue. Her eyes closed as the implications of her own thoughts sunk in. He’d treated her just like a kid sister, an annoying kid sister that didn’t know what they were doing. And, somehow, that made her feel worse.

Sensing her unease, Brasa leaned forward and touched her hand, brushing his fingers over the back, “As I said. He will get over it.”

Casting him a sorrowful look, she murmured, “I hope so. We’re friends, you know?”

“I know.”

“And,” she continued, turning her hand over to thread her fingers through his, “I still want to be friends.”

He nodded, giving her hand a squeeze before picking up her plate and taking it to the kitchen. Lilah fiddled with her glass in a kind of soft resignation. This would have to play out however it was going to. Pushing the issue wasn’t going to make things better. Neither was dwelling on it. Still, she gave herself permission to feel sad for a while. That seemed fair.

Brasa returned and held out a hand to her, which she took. They walked amiably back to the living room where he sat her down on the couch and handed her the remote.

“I have some work to do,” he explained, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head, “It’ll take a few hours. Then, we’ll decide what to do for the evening.”

Lilah spent maybe half an hour scrolling through the many streaming services that were on the top menu of the TV, amazed that Brasa had gotten so fully up to speed on modern entertainment. Furtively, she glanced through some of his watch history, smiling when she noted that he’d made it all the way through every season of House and, oddly enough, had recently watched The Princess Bride.

Eventually, she settled on restarting Drunk History from the beginning. Prior to signing on with the Gecko brothers, she’d watched a few episodes a month in her down time. There were always TVs on in the bar, so she’d never thought to purchase one for her room. Now seemed a good time for some comfort.

Brasa had been right when he’d said that his work would take a few hours. Lunchtime came and went, Lilah making her way to the kitchen and finding that he’d stocked it with some basic staples. They were going to have to take a shopping trip, though. The man had eggs, bread, a bag of various fruits, and a jug of milk. Her guess was that he’d googled basic foodstuffs and had run with it.

After eating her meal perched over the sink, Lilah washed her dishes and returned to the couch to start the next season. That was where Brasa found her, half asleep, stretched out over the cushions. He smiled as he approached, reaching down to lift her legs and sit, draping her feet over his lap.

“Done for the day?”

He shrugged, “In one manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?”

Another shrug, “Benny’s following has grown again. We think he’s turning a few humans a week.”

Her brows came together, “What does that mean for you?”

Brasa took a few seconds to think about it, his fingers drawing little circles over the sensitive skin of her ankle, “It means that he is likely going to resort to violence, and soon.”

Lilah felt her muscles tense, a kind of latent anxiety rolling along her body, “How do we prevent it?”

Looking at her, his expression was soft, but sure, “I don’t think we can.”

She sat up, disbelieving, “Why not?”

Turning a little bit so that he could prop his arm up on the back of the couch, Brasa explained, “Men like this…there is only one thing that checks them, and I promised you that I would look at other options. He wants blood, will be satisfied by nothing else.”

Lilah pulled her legs up and under her body, folding her hands in her lap, “We can talk to him, right?”

“We tried that.”

“For like two seconds,” she countered, her anxiety melting into frustration, “There has to be a way. Nobody has to die for this.”

Head tilting to the side, he said, “When has, essentially, a coup, ever not resulted in bloodshed?”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “This isn’t a coup. Its...an administrative change.”

Brasa shot her a look that very clearly said that she was bullshitting, “In their eyes, I have taken away their way of life. You know this.”

She shook her head, “You’re giving them a better life. A life where they’re not hiding in the dark, picking off humans, and running from local hunters.”

“Some don’t see it that way.”

There was a kind of finality in his tone, a tension borne of having had this argument over and over with different people. Lilah sighed and wriggled deeper into the couch, feeling not a little bit petulant.

Brasa reached over and took her hand in a loose grasp, “This is not the first time I’ve brokered peace—did so just recently with the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, if you’ll recall.”

She laughed, “Yeah. There were a couple times I almost threw something at one or all of you during those meetings.”

One side of his mouth quirked up, “I could tell. You do not hide your feelings well.”

“Um, excuse me, I think I do,” Lilah shot back.

The little quirk in his mouth widened to a smile, “You do not. At least, not from me.”

Again, she rolled her eyes, “That’s because of the bond.”

He hummed in the negative, “You have a very expressive face.”

Lilah scoffed, “I have an excellent poker face.”

This earn her a low chuckle, “You do not.”

“I was able to keep the bond a secret for months.”

Brasa leaned into her space, his hand running up the length of her arm to settle behind her neck, “Richie knew within seconds of seeing you the night we met. And Seth’s powers of perception are mediocre, at best.”

Lilah was not too proud to admit that she was a little dazed at how close they were, coffee and caramel filling her senses. He’d given her a lot of space over the last twenty four hours—she wasn’t even sure where he’d slept. She found herself yearning to crawl right into his lap and stay there for the rest of the night, and some part of her figured that he’d probably let her.

But, while he’d been working, she’d been thinking. And, the first order of business was to get some food that would make more than one kind of meal in the house.

“We need to go shopping,” she said, smiling when he tilted his head to the side in confusion, “Groceries. We need them—well, I need them.”

Brasa gave a curt nod, rising and pulling her to standing, “Do you want to go now?”

Knowing that she looked pretty fucking bad, Lilah shook her head, “Let me get cleaned up. I’ll be out in about forty minutes.”

She took her time with getting ready, making sure that she washed every inch of skin, shampooed and conditioned her hair, covered her dark circles, and put on some fresh, clean clothes. As she dug into her bag for socks, her phone and the case for her comm fell out. She touched them gingerly, noting that there was no service and that the comm was redundant, given that she didn’t have anyone to connect with. She tucked both away.

In the end, it took a little longer than forty minutes, but Brasa didn’t seem to mind. When she emerged from the bedroom, he was lounging on the couch, CSPAN playing on the TV.

Lilah’s eyes narrowed, “Why are you watching this?”

His eyes scanned her lazily, taking her in, “You didn’t think my entire business was in medical supplies, did you?”

She shrugged, “We never discussed it in detail.”

Reaching for the remote, he turned off the TV and stood, “I like a diverse portfolio. Keeps things stable across the board.”

Lilah knew nothing about stocks, and even less about portfolios, “I’m sure that’s a good strategy.”

“It can be, though some people prefer a more adventurous technique.”

She moved towards the door, looking over her shoulder at him, “But, not you.”

He followed, “No.”

That tracked. Every decision Lilah had ever seen him make was calculated with brutal efficiency. Brasa did nothing by halves, nor did he make impulsive decisions. It was one of the things that Lilah liked most about him.

The hall was dark as it had been the day before, a chilling lack of light—except for a small triangle in the distance, the illumination so dull that it almost didn’t look real. As before, Brasa took her hand, leading her. As before, she went willingly. Unlike before, Lilah was alert enough to ask questions.

“What is this place?”

Brasa’s voice sounded next to her, “I’ve already told you.”

“Yeah, but what is it?”

They neared the light, and it was cast in shadow for a moment as Brasa pressed the button, “I needed a more secure place, a place to allow myself true rest. A place where I could keep you safe, when the time came.”

Leaning into his side, she asked, “Because of Benny?”

Though she couldn’t see him, Lilah felt him shake his head, “I have lived a life of nearly total violence. That comes with a cost.”

And, here they were, back to the same conversation they’d had at least twice before. Her safety. Her weakness. Her humanity—though, not her mortality.

“You think I’m safer underground?”

The doors opened and Brasa ushered her inside, “Only Javier and I—and now, you—know about it. It is secret.”

She smirked at him, “I’ve always wanted a secret hideout.”

He returned her mirth, “I live to serve.”

They held hands all the way to the surface and up until Brasa helped her up and into an SUV that was hidden in what basically amounted to a hollowed out rock. Lilah had to hand it to them. If she hadn’t known that this was here, she would have never guessed. There was literally no indication that the formations were anything but rocks, once all the entrances were closed.

She looked up a local store and they headed out, guided by the navigation in the dash. As they drove, Lilah drew up a list on her phone, having memorized her standard grocery order long ago. To it, she added a few items that she might not otherwise pick up, telling herself that she deserved a treat or two after the emotional fallout of her confrontation with Seth. She also decided that she was going to pick up a few bottles of wine.

Lilah had to admit that she never once thought about what it would be like to see Brasa in such a mundane setting. She doubted that he did his own shopping, what with Javier taking care of most menial tasks. Now, she was watching him step through the automatic doors of a local supermarket, his head turning to glance at her for direction.

It was surreal. Truly surreal. Lilah had the insane urge to laugh as she looked from him to the milling crowd that parted around him. She caught a few curious glances from them, even further amused that Brasa seemed to take no notice.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Lilah took his arm and led him to the shopping carts, pulling one from the long line and taking a moment to study the layout of the store. Tall shelves were lined one after another, stocked full with wares. Veering to the left, she headed for the bins of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Lilah was intimately aware of the way Brasa observed her going from bin to bin, picking out one or two and setting in the cart. He gave her space, but paid attention to how she chose her wares. Lilah mostly ignored him, focusing on trying to get enough to last her at least a few days.

As they passed the dairy aisle, Brasa finally said, “Things have moved...so quickly in the last few hundred years.”

She was leaning down to pick up an extra carton of eggs when he spoke, her head turning awkwardly to look at him, “What does that mean?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, giving a shrug, “Advancements that would have taken a millennia several thousand years ago now happen in a hundred.”

Putting the eggs in the cart, Lilah thought about it for a moment, moving slowly towards the canned food, “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am,” he pronounced, smug.

She scoffed, pulling cans off the shelf to stock the small pantry behind the kitchen. Her voice, when it came, was tinged with a tease, “I’m an ancient vampire, I’m so smart, and I’ve seen everything.”

His laugh was soft, but genuinely amused, his chin dipping down towards his chest in a movement that was nothing short of demure. If Lilah were just some anonymous person in this store, if she were looking at him for the first time in that moment, her breath would have caught—as it was now—and she would have scurried away feeling so completely embarrassed at finding a total stranger so endearing.

As it was, she wasn’t anonymous. He very much knew her, a thought that would have been no less than frightening a year ago. Lilah felt no such fear now, only warmth that unfurled comfortably in her chest.

Brasa steered her down an aisle, gesturing at a shelf full of Gatorade, “Javier has sent me four texts reminding me that you will need this.”

Mouth open, Lilah stared at him in confusion for several seconds, “I will?”

He nodded, “Javier is adamant that I keep this in stock. He says you prefer the red color.”

Agog, Lilah asked, “How the fuck does he know that?”

Brasa cast her a look that said she should know the answer to that question. Javier might be quiet and unassuming, but he was better than the FBI at finding out the minutiae of people’s lives.

“Okay,” Lilah relented, “He’s right, but I don’t know why you would need to keep it on hand. Its not like I’ll need to constantly replenish my—oh.”

Without another word, Lilah leaned down and picked up two packs, setting them in the cart. She lost her battle to keep the nervous laugh at bay when she glanced at Brasa’s smirking face. He wasn’t even trying to hide the satisfaction in his expression. To give herself something to do other than smile stupidly, she turned her attention to navigating to the check out.

Brasa was quietly helpful in loading the groceries onto the conveyor, and Lilah didn’t miss how he maneuvered around her to pay before she could get her card out of her pocket. Casting him a knowing smile, Lilah moved past him, hands briefly touching his hips so that she could slide out from between the partitions to load the cart.

A few minutes later, she was pushing it out into the warm, humid night, and towards where he’d parked the SUV. A few more minutes, and they were making their way back to what she was going to continually call the ‘secret hideout’. The title brought a small, ‘secret smile’ to her lips.

As they pulled to a stop, that small smile turned into a grin. She looked to Brasa, “You’re about to be witness to an ancient human custom, going back at least a century.”

Head cocked to the side, Brasa looked at her in confusion, “I believe I am aware of most human customs, ancient or otherwise.”

Rolling her eyes, Lilah hopped out of the car and made her away around to the trunk, pushing the button to initiate the automatic open. She’d only picked out enough food to last for the week she promised him when he’d been negotiating her stay. Lilah was not going to think about how she likely would have to extend her stay indefinitely.

Lilah reached down and looped a few bags over her arm, “So it goes like this: No matter how much you buy, you never, ever, take more than one trip to get it in the house.”

Brasa looked at her arm, laden with bags, and back to the rest, his brow rising, “I...was not aware of this custom.”

She fixed him with a serious look, “Its a very important tradition.”

A little crease formed between his brows as he studied the bags they had left. Lilah swallowed the laugh that threatened to break the whole act apart, and hefted a few more onto her free arm. Brasa looked at what she carried, then leaned in and snagged the rest, hoisting them effortlessly in one arm.

She stared at him, chastising herself for forgetting how powerful he really was. She chastised herself further when she stayed right where she was as he reached up, closed the trunk, and tugged one of her arms free of the bags. It wasn’t until she was looking at his back as he opened the door to the elevator that she was able to make her feet move.

As they made the descent, Brasa shifted the bags to one arm and took her hand, turning it over to see how the bags had made little creases in her skin in the short time before he’d taken the load.

“I don’t understand this tradition,” he muttered, thumb rubbing at her palm.

Lilah smirked, “You don’t have to understand it to be a part of it.”

His eyes lifted from where they were studying her skin, “You are right. Some things just are.”

She had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t talking about defeating the grocery bag challenge. The weight behind his gaze made that place in the back of her mind flare up, the bond almost stinging her. Reflexively, her fingers curled, wrapping around his thumb.

There was a clinical ‘ding’ and the doors opened. Adjusting his grip, Brasa led her into the hall and to the door. A few taps, and the door opened. They carried the bags into the kitchen and Lilah took her time figuring out where to put everything.

As she was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a small bag of potatoes, Brasa’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, held up a finger, and stepped from the room. She looked at the place where he’d been for a few seconds before shaking herself to attention. The potatoes could stay on the counter.

It was then that her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in several hours. With new food to choose from, she found herself a little bit at a loss as to what to make. In his kitchen, bare save for the food and the tools she needed to cook it with, she again longed for comfort. Broccoli cheese soup, it was.

With renewed purpose, Lilah began assembling the ingredients and putting a pot on the burner. She hadn’t made this particular recipe since high school, when she was still living with a family that she hadn’t talked to in years. Her hand on the knife paused as she took that in.

When she was running dangerous jobs for shady people, she had deliberately cut them off in fear for their safety. Now, she knew she could definitely never rekindle that relationship. What would happen in ten years, twenty, fifty, when she didn’t age, when she didn’t die?

Sniffing, she set her mind to cutting the broccoli florets into one inch pieces. There was no need to deepen the emotional anguish she’d experienced this week. She could do that at another time. Just to be safe, she opened a bottle of wine and left it and the glass on the counter to breathe.

As she was preparing to stir in the cheese to thicken the broth, Brasa returned. He leaned against the counter to watch her cook, arms crossed.

“Work?” she questioned lightly.

He gave a nod, “Javier worries.”

She hummed, glancing over her shoulder at him, “And?”

Pushing from the counter, he touched the small of her back. His hand traveled around her waist to rest just below her belly button. Lilah leaned into him, her head tilting to the side so that he could lay his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into his hold, stirring slowly, in no hurry to move. Eventually, the soup thickened up as it was supposed to, and she reached up to turn the burner off.

Brasa already had a bowl ready for her, a spoon in his other hand. Lilah took it with a grateful nod and ladled a serving for herself. Rather than sit at the dining room table, Lilah hopped up onto the counter and spooned some into her mouth.

“You going to answer my question?”

His eyes dropped, though his mouth quirked in amusement, “He thinks we should be more aggressive with Benny.”

Lilah waved her spoon at him, indicating that he should continue.

“I find myself wondering if I should follow that advice.”

“Why?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, “His numbers grow along with the recklessness of his actions. He attacked a hotel last night, slaughtered the guests and staff. The police are investigating.”

Swinging one leg, Lilah asked, “You can’t buy them, bribe them to close the investigation?”

“We are working on that. The police chief is...remarkably stubborn about policy. Javier wants to eat him.”

She should not have laughed, but the thought of the prim and dapper Javier ripping the throat out of a police officer did not mesh together. He’d be too worried that he’d get blood on his suit.

When she finished, Lilah slipped down from the counter and rinsed out the bowl, setting it in the sink to clean later, “You want to watch a movie?”

“I could do that.”

“Cool,” she replied, already heading for the living room, grabbing the bottle of wine she’d opened along with the glass, “Where do you keep your extra blankets?”

She picked the softest, fluffiest one of the bunch and threw it over them both as they sat next to each other on the couch. Wine glass in hand, Lilah flicked through the streaming channels, already knowing which selection she was going to make.

His hand on her thigh, Brasa settled deeper into the cushion, letting out a light chuckle as she hit play, “I like this one.”

“Me, too,” she said, shifting so that she could lay her head on his shoulder.

Warm, full, and comfortable, Lilah found herself drifting even as Princess Buttercup argued with the Dread Pirate Roberts. The familiarity of Brasa’s scent wrapped around her and the story on the screen made everything inside her loosen for the first time since she’d left behind an angry Seth—well, that and two glasses of excellent wine.

By the time the credits rolled, Brasa had leaned back into the arm of the couch, pulling Lilah down to lay atop him. Her body pressed against his, Lilah soaked up his unnatural warmth. His arms held her loosely, but his hands were firm on her back and hip.

Lilah pushed up on her hands, looking down at him, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Of course,” he said, a little too quickly, “Of course.”

She smiled, dropping to an elbow and kissing him. Intending it to be a sort of ‘thank you’, Lilah started to pull away only to feel Brasa cup the back of her neck and hold her in place as he twined his tongue with hers. He warmed beneath her, burning hot, body arching. Lilah pulled her knees up underneath her, balancing on one hand so that she could run the other down the front of his shirt to pull it from where he had it tucked into his slacks.

He lifted his hips when she moved around to the back, his own hands roaming over her jean clad legs, pulling on each so that she sat astride him. And then, in a move she could have never accomplished on her own, he swung his legs over the edge of the couch and stood. Her ankles crossed to anchor her body on his hips, her hands grasping frantically to clasp the back of his neck. Lilah laughed as he kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, all the while moving towards the bedroom.

He laid her carefully on the bed and systematically undressed her. Shoes, socks, jeans, underwear, shirt, bra—everything was peeled off without ceremony, without patience. Lilah was stripped bare before her brain caught up to the fact that this was actually going to happen. And then he was crawling over her, his mouth sealing over hers.

He kissed her like he was starved, as if he might never kiss her again. Deep, unrelenting kisses that left her gasping beneath him. She reached up to to get at the buttons of his shirt, managing to get one or two free before he was moving down her body, nuzzling the skin between her breasts. Thumbs circling her nipples, he drew one into his mouth, releasing it with a wet sound. He licked at her biting down gently, and laving the spot with his tongue.

Shifting a little to the side, Brasa pulled her knee up and around his waist, fingers drifting so that he could run them up the length of her slit. She keened, spine arching up so far that her shoulders lifted off the mattress. Her skin was seared where they touched, sizzling with sensation that only seemed to grow. He massaged her in wide circles, the pad of his forefinger brushing over her opening.

Rubbing his cheek against her, Brasa moved steadily downwards, kissing and sucking and nipping until he rested between her spread thighs. If Lilah had any thought that he would ease into it, those thoughts were shattered by one long, enthusiastic lick. Sighing into the motion, he sucked at her folds, emitting a contented growl when her legs tightened around his shoulders.

He held her open, wedging his massive body into her hips until her inner thighs ached with the strain. Lilah was beyond caring, her fingers digging into the pillow beneath her as she rose higher and higher towards orgasm. There was no teasing, no drawing this out. Brasa worked with a singular purpose, tongue swirling around her clit, hands holding her up to his mouth.

She grit her teeth, the need so vast and deep that it became a vibrant pain, soothed only by his touch. It tunneled down deep into her bones, sticking in her throat when she cried out, the spasms raking over her voice so that it came out hoarse and rasping.

Lilah breathed forcefully, eyes squeezed shut as he worked her through it, easing up when she shook, too sensitive. When she was able to look down at him, he was rolling his tongue over his lips, eyes focused on where she was still fluttering sporadically. Her mouth went dry at the sight, the hunger that he wasn’t even attempting to veil.

The hand on her hip rotated, and she felt him push two fingers inside her, the motion sending little frissons of electricity over the nerve endings. She shivered. He smiled, fangs peeking out. Then, he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, black gaze watching her reaction. Lilah bit her lip, giving up totally on controlling her breathing.

He kissed his way up her body, settling atop her. Lilah pulled him even closer, yanking at the buttons of his shirt. It was nearly impossible to focus when he was kissing her, hands turning her head so that he could nuzzle against her neck, inhaling. She gave herself some credit. She got his shirt unbuttoned and halfway down his arms before she got distracted by a particularly hard nip just above her collarbone.

Hissing, she pulled him up, trying to gain a little leverage to push him over onto his back. Lilah was not successful. He held her down, smirking when she made a small sound of frustration.

“I want,” she started, a whine cutting off the rest of the words.

Brasa caught her hands, holding them down onto the mattress with almost his full weight, “What is it?”

Oh, now he wants to tease, she thought.

“Is this what you want?” His hips swiveled in a slow, firm grind, “I’ll give it to you, if its what you want, querida.”

Lilah moaned, writhing beneath him, desperate to get the friction she needed. She was close, close enough that she was willing to forgo any sense of pride to get there.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed, head thrown back as he rolled his hips against her.

He let go of one of her wrists, and she felt him reach down and open the fly of his slacks. Lifting off just enough to kick off the offending material, Brasa laid back down, gathering her to him. The next kiss was venom soaked, sweet and hot. Lilah groaned, pushing her hips into him, needing to feel him inside her.

Brasa slid in to the hilt in one strong, fluid motion that filled the emptiness inside Lilah completely. Her breath stuttered in her lungs, her legs lifting to accommodate him. He was so fucking hot—his mouth, his body, his cock. Sweat pooled in the hollows and bend of her limbs, darkening the hair at her temple. She gripped his shoulders, pulled on the shirt he still wore, caught by the buttons on his cuffs.

And then he was moving. The sound of his cock pushing into her wet body, the feeling of him both easing and stirring the blooming ache of her arousal, the way he ground out a helpless sound against her neck. It all meshed together, overwhelming her until she could do nothing but hold on as he fucked her.

The pleasure grew inside her, reaching into every inch of her body. She wailed, head thrown back, fingers fisted in his hair. Spurred on, his pace picked up, breath punching out of him when she raked her nails up his back. It took very little to push her the rest of the way over the edge, the feeling spiraling through her.

Brasa’s grip on her tightened as he thrust into her one last time, his spine arched, lips pulled back from his fangs. She could feel him pulsing, could feel every reflexive spasm as he came.

When his strength returned, Brasa rolled gingerly off her, his large hand tracing down the center of her body to rest heavily on her belly. She grasped it, holding him by the wrist as she caught her breath. Lilah looked over at him, smiling at the fact that he was still wearing that shirt, though she’d torn the collar and it was wrinkled beyond nearly all recognition.

Her fingers touched the tear, “That’s going to be a difficult one to explain to the dry cleaner.”

Brasa smirked as he unbuttoned the cuffs around each wrist, “I may keep it like this.”

Lilah’s brows lifted, “Like a memento?”

He hummed in confirmation.

“I didn’t realize you were so sentimental.”

Throwing the shirt off the side of the bed, Brasa laid on his side, observing her from where he’d perched his head on his palm, “I am not, generally. But, with you…” He trailed off as he leaned down and kissed her softly.

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

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lordseochangbin · 4 years ago

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The1: Seo Changbin

FLUFF and ANGST

a/n: since its my one year on tumblr i really wanted to write a changbin fic hehe so @0325stay and i worked together on this beauty <3 thank you for helping me write this

You were finally leaving. Your hard work paid off and now you were on your way to working with one of the biggest companies in the music industry, JYP. It was time to make a name for yourself as a producer.

The company was kind enough to pay for all of your expenses for this work trip and now you were seated in first class, wine glass in hand in your own private room on this flight. Making you even more excited to work for them and see what they have to offer.

9 hours later, you were woken up by the flight attendant to tell you that you were about to land and outside, you were welcomed by the thin clouds that separated the sky and the beautiful city down below.

Though it was night time, you were in awe at the sight of the colourful city lights, and the lit up buildings. You weren’t used to this. This was your first time flying alone internationally.

The plane landed smoothly and you grabbed your stuff and exited the aircraft. Making sure you thanked everyone on that flight and when you felt that Seoul air hit your face, you knew you made it. This was the start of your career.

It was a while before you could grab all your luggage and go through the gates, but when you did, it was packed and you had a hard time finding your ride.

You searched and searched, until you finally found the sign. A big poster that had your name on it with JYP Entertainment’s logo that was being held by a man that was just waving it around, hoping that someone would approach him.

“Hi! I’m Y/N… I’m guessing you’re my ride?”

The man looked at you up and down and then put the poster down. He gave you a warm smile and extended his hand out to you as he introduced himself.

“I’m Changbin and yeah I am. JYP sent me over to take you to the hotel and I brought you some dinner as well.”

Changbin took the heavy bags from your arms and guided you all the way to the car. You got in the front seat and whipped out your camera. Excited to see the views during this ride and capture every moment since you knew this was only temporary.

He started driving through the quiet roads then into the busy cities where you were surprised to see the city still so alive at 2am. People were singing, laughing, dancing, just hanging out with friends under the bright lights.

Click, click, click. That’s all Changbin heard throughout the ride. He was confused since he thought you were going to live here, but he didn’t want to bother you with all these questions. There was something about you that just immediately caught his attention, but he didn’t know what it was.

Maybe it was the way you found everything so fascinating, or maybe it was just because this was one of the very few times he was going to be around someone who was from a different country. He didn’t know just yet.

When you two finally reached the hotel, he hopped out and grabbed your bags. Checking you in under the company’s card and then bringing up your bags to your room. Also handing you your dinner and then saying his goodbyes.

“Good night. I’ll be back by lunch to pick you up for work… Sweet dreams”

But before he shut the door, he asked one more question.

“What’s your number? You know, so I can call or text you before I pick you up.”

You exchanged numbers and then he shot you a smile on his way out. You already knew you two were going to get along, there was just something about him.

The morning came and you slept like a baby because of how tired you felt from travelling. You were only awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. It was Changbin. You overslept and now you had a little less than an hour to freshen up.

You rushed yourself. All your clothes were already scattered, your bathroom was a mess, and you were starving at this point. You ended up hitting corners of furniture from trying to hurry your process up.

Knock knock, the door went. Your hair was a mess and you were only finished with half of your outfit. It was your banana pajama pants paired with some cute shirt you found. Along with one shoe on. You opened the door and you found Changbin just waiting there with coffee in his hand and a small breakfast bun he picked up along the way.

“Well…good morning.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes when he saw you rushing with your frizzy hair and half done outfit but, he sat down comfortably on the chair and just talked to you about your schedule today. From the meeting, to the company tour, then the meeting of the groups, and then to the actual work that was to be started.

You didn’t hear most of it though since you were too busy panicking about how you were going to present yourself today. You just started babbling about your thoughts and Changbin just listened. He found it cute how you babbled when you were nervous and the bed head hair just made his day.

He handed you the coffee and the breakfast bun, telling you to hurry up and then threw the company employee pass at you as you both drove off for work.

Once you both reached the company, Changbin introduced you to everyone, but they all seemed way too busy to notice you fully. You didn’t mind though, you knew they were all busy with promotions and they needed to perfect everything they did.

Changbin gave you a tour of the company, and little by little, you found himself opening up to you. At first, he seemed like a snob, but when you got to know him, he was like a bubbly little kid that was always trying to play. He went from trying to act tough and in charge to skipping down the halls of JYP saying hi to everyone he knew.

Then after a long day of meeting most people and looking through all the rooms, it was time to start work officially. Changbin opened the door to a dainty size studio, just enough room to fit one. You thought he was going to leave you once he dropped you off, but he pulled up a chair and sat down real close to you.

“Aren’t you going to leave?”

He rested his chin on his hand and shook his head. He just told you he was curious with how you do your work. So, you started setting up your program, linking all the pads, and finding the right channels to use. You worked fast for someone who didn’t have much experience working professionally and Changbin was impressed with you.

You just did your thing while he sat and vibed on the side. You barely noticed him while working, but Changbin noticed every small detail about you. From the way you found the rhythm and beat you wanted just by tapping your foot and fingers furiously, to the way you smiled to yourself after finding the right tones.

He sat back and enjoyed how you worked and was thinking about if he should ask the boss if he could work with you on this track. And to his luck, he got the boss’ approval to work with you and was assigned to be your guide for your whole stay.

From there, Changbin would come pick you up every morning, drop you off every night, bring you food whenever you asked, or just randomly throughout the day. Every single day, he’d bring a surprise. Whether it was a small treat from the street food vendors, or a little toy he thought you’d like. Changbin was always handing it over with a smile, and after a week, he was already giving you hugs like you two had been friends forever.

On your days off, he would still be there for you even when he didn’t need to be. He’d send you a good morning text then ask you what your plans were for the day because he wanted to personally take you around the cities. Sometimes even bringing his group along, but then telling them to leave because they got too annoying.

Changbin took you to see the regular tourist spots and paid for everything, even though you told him no. The man wouldn’t let you pay at all. Even when he took you to his favorite shopping mall, everything you touched, Changbin would pay for it. Not even looking at the price. You got kind of mad at that, but he would always say “It’s okay, we’re friends. Let me treat you.”

That’s how your first 3 weeks in South Korea went. You were with Changbin for almost 24 hours a day, just working side by side, and him not leaving your side at all. The only time he’d leave was for rehearsal, but then he’d come straight back to you. All sweaty and tired, but he kept his bubbly self around you and talked to you like you’ve been close all your life.

He’d tease you non-stop, he’d hug you whenever he got the chance or even just place his head on your shoulder while he watched you work. Changbin was slowly attaching himself to you, slowly taking a liking to you, but he wouldn’t admit it just yet. He just kept it quiet and tried to see if his feelings were real and if you felt the same way.

At the studio, Changbin stared at his phone while you worked on the last track of the album. The occasional deep breaths and sighs showed your tiredness, and he knew it was about time for a break. He knew how badly deadlines could get to a producer’s head, so he wanted to take you to the one place he always found himself on times like this.

“Y/N?” He said behind your ear, slowly taking off your headphones making you turn your head to face him.

“What’s up?” You replied, but before you got an answer, Changbin heard nothing of your protests, grabbed your hand, turned off your computer, and dragged you out of the studio.

“Changbin!! What are you doing? I just started-”

“And we’ll finish it tonight...Right now, you need a break, and I know just where to take you”

You simply rolled your eyes as a smirk grew on Changbin’s face. Of course he knew where to take you. At this point, it seemed like he knew everything about you.

As Changbin drove you to the spot, you watched the city lights light up and took photos again. You wanted to keep everything in memory knowing that this was only temporary. The city, the studio, Changbin. All of it would be over soon.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your attention as his hand met yours. “Do you mind grabbing the bag from the back, we’re almost there”

Your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity of Changbin’s plans. Where was he taking you? The guy was full of surprises.

Outside, you heard the sounds of a peaceful river along with the sounds of jet skis rushing against the water. You turned your head to be welcomed by the calming sight of the Han River.

You weren’t able to take your eyes off the beautiful view and you just stood there in amazement while Changbin held your hand to lead you to the spot he was taking you to. You couldn’t help but admire the bright bridge that stretched out ahead of you leading to the beautiful city of Seoul.

The night sky was filled with the large moon and clouds that had planes flying through. It casted over the two of you and as the perfect weather chilled in, you and Changbin set a blanket to sit on.

“This is beautiful” You mentioned, making Changbin smile as he watched you cherish the moment. Again, he heard the clicks of your camera and just giggled at every picture you took.

“Changbin! 1 ,2, 3 Smile!”

He smiled as bright as he could and gave you multiple poses so you could remember him in every way. You probably took over 10 pictures of him and when you went to show him his pictures, Changbin scooted closer to you and threw an arm over your shoulder. He wasn’t looking at the pictures, he was only looking at you.

His heart raced just by sitting beside you and listening to you talk about something you were so passionate about. Everything you did now was just adorable in his eyes and he was hoping that this feeling would never stop.

“Changbin, aren’t these nice?”

Changbin heard nothing and kept looking over at you. He was finally admitting to himself that he was catching feelings for you. There was no view- even in a place like this- that could top the beauty that he saw in you.

When you noticed he hadn’t responded, you turned and waved your hands in front of him.

“Changbin? Helloooo” You giggled as his eyes grew wider. “Yeah, yeah let me grab the drinks” He coughed out, grabbing the bag from the car.

“Were you admiring the view?” You asked, propping yourself with your elbows as you laid back.

“Yeah, yeah totally” Changbin replied, though the only view he found himself admiring was you.

Handing you a drink, Changbin sat by you before asking “Are you still stressed about tomorrow? The evaluations?”

You sat up next to him before grabbing your drink and taking a sip. “A little, I mean everything’s still not finished and I only have tonight but I definitely needed some fresh air… thank you Changbin”

“It’s no big deal I mean really-”

“No Changbin, thank you for everything.” You interrupted, laying your head on his shoulder.

Changbin must be crazy. Could you hear the constant thumping of his heart or was that just him?

As you two finished the drinks, break time was over and the two of you made your way back to the studio. You were now filled with a sudden confidence and faith in the success of your album and Changbin was now a man that had a heart for you and only you now.

Once the two of you were back at the studio, it was time to work again. Changbin stayed on his phone ready to help while you buried yourself in the unfinished tracks.

Time passed by quickly as you got your tasks finished one by one, and the small snores heard from behind you made it evident that Changbin had fallen asleep, honestly you would’ve as well. Everyday, for the past few weeks, Changbin had stayed with you until he dropped you off at night, despite his busy schedule and you could never wrap your head around why.

With a click of your mouse, everything was finally saved on a flash drive. Your first album was completed… You did it.

You squealed in excitement. Jumping up from your seat and shaking Changbin’s shoulders to wake him up.

“Changbin! Changbin I finished it!” You exclaimed in excitement as Changbin got up.

“You finished it!” Changbin repeated after you, also jumping up and down with you. You pulled Changbin into your arms and held him close to show him how grateful you were for all his support.

“I seriously couldn’t have done this without you”

Changbin looked into your eyes full of joy. You seemed so happy in the moment and he was happy for you too, but then it was like his emotions took over his body. He couldn’t help but to smile, close his eyes, and lean in closer to you.

You just watched him as he closed his eyes and watched his lips only a few inches away from yours. In a panic, you whispered his name hoping to catch his attention but, he only leaned in closer and his lips slightly brushed against yours, but you stepped back in time.

“Um..” You let out, the tension in the room increasing as Changbin opened his eyes.

“Y/n I-”

“I have to go… prepare for tomorrow’s evaluation. I’ll see you tomorrow, get a good night’s sleep and all” You quickly said as you gathered your things and left the room.

Changbin didn’t plan on getting a good night’s sleep. In fact, he couldn’t sleep at all. He couldn’t believe that he just tried to kiss you and now he was tossing and turning in bed.

The sound of your alarm made you leap out of bed and head to your closet. Today was the day. It was time to show off your hard work. Your muscles tensed at the fact that you were finally presenting your work to a line of producers and managers.

After getting ready, you waited outside for Changbin. It seemed like the perfect day, as if nothing could go wrong. That was until Changbin showed up and you suddenly remembered last night.

He pulled up in front and when you sat down inside, you both could feel the awkward tension between you two and to try to relieve that tension, you said hey, but he said hey at the same time too. Only making the awkwardness visible between you two.

You looked at him hoping he would say something more but he never did and that’s how it went the entire drive. Just pure awkward silence.

Once the two of you arrived, you got out of the car, hoping he would come along, but he didn’t. “You’re not coming?” You asked.

“Nah, I’ll wait for you. Good luck” He said as he stopped the engine and started playing with his phone.

You said thanks and took a deep breath as you saw Changbin go back on his phone. This was the only time Changbin wasn’t going to be beside you when you were playing music and you didn’t know how to feel except nervous and uneasy.

As you walked into the room, you felt multiple pairs of eyes follow you to the stage.With a press of a button, your new album started playing and to your surprise, everyone seemed to enjoy it and you finally got a pass to release it. Your hard work paid off and you felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulder.

But with that pass, you knew that it was the end of your stay. In the contract, it stated that when you got your pass to release your music, it was time to go home. The only problem was that you didn’t know how to tell Changbin since the flight was already booked and your stuff had to be packed by tonight.

In a hurry, you ran to Changbin’s car, only to see that he had already fallen asleep, so you opened the door and woke him up.

“Hey! They said my music was good and-”

“Congrats!” Changbin said, already starting the car and getting ready to leave.

“Wait why are we in such a hurry?” You asked.

“I’m a little busy with promotions tomorrow so I have to practice tonight, is that okay?” He asked.

You were hoping the two of you could celebrate tonight, but if he was busy with promotions he probably didn’t care about you leaving tomorrow anyways.

“Yeah.. that’s fine” You said before getting an email about your ticket home.

“Alright, I promise to see you tomorrow, then we could celebrate. I knew you could do it, so tomorrow, just wait for me, okay?”

Changbin leaned over to give you a hug, not knowing that it was going to be the last one he would be able to give you for a while. He smiled and you two did your special handshake and then he drove off after dropping you off at the hotel.

You quickly went up and packed your things. Sort of wishing that your last night would’ve been spent with Changbin, but that was okay. You two spent so much time together during your stay, he almost forgot to go to rehearsals some days.

Even though he wasn’t here, you were still pretty happy about your music being released soon. You couldn't wait to go home and see your friends and family because you knew they’d be proud of you.

“Hey Mom,” You said on the phone. “Yeah! They said I can come back tomorrow… I can’t wait to see you too.. okay I’ll be safe.. bye”

The next day, Changbin had coffee and a roll in hand. He felt bad that he couldn’t be with you yesterday so he wanted to make up for it even though he was busy with practice today, but once he got in your usual studio, he noticed that all of your things were gone.

An employee passed by so Changbin decided to ask what happened and that’s when he found out. Your contract was done and you were already heading home and he could do nothing to stop you from leaving.

They mentioned that you were already at the airport, just waiting for your flight and when he heard that, his hands balled up in a fist and he felt his heart drop. He didn’t even get to celebrate with you let alone tell you about how he finally felt about you after these few weeks together.

Changbin quickly rushed through the hall to leave only to be stopped by his members. They were all getting ready to practice one more time so they could perfect everything, but he pushed them to the side because the only thing on his mind right now, was you.

“Yo Changbin where are you going?” The rest of the guys asked him.

“I have to go,” was all he said, nudging them aside.

“Hyung!” Felix called after him. It was no bother, Changbin was already out the door and nowhere to be seen.

He frantically grabbed his phone from his pocket, wanting to call you and tell you everything that he wanted to say before, but he noticed an airplane fly above him. Changbin still tried calling you and texting you, hoping you were still seated in the airport, but then he noticed he had one unread message left in his notifications.

Y/N: Bye Changbin. Thank you for everything, I’ll see you soon :)

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

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How Do I Look?

Summary: Mun Yeong and Gang-Tae spend their first weekend apart. Things go really well.

Author's Note: I intended for this to be less gutter filth but I'm a pervert so you got this instead. Sorry. A little. I'm the worst. I know. I promise to try to stop being a hornball and write something sweet and wholesome.

P.s. I just did some edits, so any errors should now be fixed. Thank you to everyone sharing my story, y’all are the realest. I’ll be posting this on AO3 as well to get that fandom recognized soon.

The sunlight shines intensely through the windows and Mun Yeong wonders how much it would cost to stop that, just turn off the sunlight that perpetually ruins her sleep every morning. Those ridiculous birds are always chirping outside her window clearly in cahoots with the sun. With menacing eyes she glares at them all.

The cursed Castle is quiet. Still. It is her first weekend alone. She sighs in frustration, annoyed that he planned on keeping his word and going back to the live- in cook and two-faced bitch's house. Threatening to kill him if they left hadn’t convinced him and that was the only thing she could think of to say to him. What other reason could she ask him to stay?

Stay for me.

No. That would scare him away too. Or maybe his answer would scare her. All the same, now she was alone in this huge Castle and she didn't know if she could stand it. The castle felt so much more alive with them here. When they cleaned that day it was as if breathe had been pumped into the lungs of the castle. It no longer felt like she was living in a cemetery.

She didn't want to share him and especially not with that bitch.

Eyes scanning the room, she thought of something to do to pass the time. I want to go and kidnap him. But. He had seemed excited at the thought of seeing Jae-Soo , his dimwitted friend who ran a chicken farm or something. It must have been nice to have a friend. Someone who wanted to be around you, not for money or prestige just because they liked you. She tried to remember if she ever had anyone like that. Anyone besides him.

Lost in her thoughts her eyes landed on her shoes. Black heels, patent leather, five inch heel, crimson red bottom. She had seen them in a store and knew she had to have them. The fact that they were in someone else's hands was a minor inconvenience that a well placed glare solved. The last ones too. Destiny. What do you think you're doing? The minor inconvenience had gasped as she placed the heels on her own feet and found they were a perfect fit. Some things were meant to be.

Shopping, could be fun.

Her over-sized sunglasses dwarfed her face intentionally, she did not need fans approaching her. She knew that her face would do a great job at deterring them as well, resting bitch face was her natural face. She had already been to many different stores. Bags hung from her hand as she approached the next store. Heels clicking rhythmically, she entered and a slow "wow" left her lips as she looked up at the outfit adorning the body of a mannequin.

I want it.

"How can I help you today ma'am?" A young woman approached her with eager steps, plastic smile stretched across her face. She didn't answer verbally, instead pointed at the mannequin. The woman nodded and retrieved an exact replica for her.

"We also have changing rooms." She stated pointing to the rooms in the back but she shook her head no. "I will take it." A smiled dipped across her face that would make the Cheshire cat proud. Now she knew exactly now to have some fun.

Gang-Tae laughed as Jae-Soo swung his arms around recalling the customer who tried to bring their cat in for a free caricature drawing from Sang-Tae.

"Pizza is not for feline companions. Most cats are lactose intolerant and you should not give them any dairy. They will vomit or even have diarrhea and it is very painful for their butthole. You must not give your cat any dairy products." His brother quickly added from his corner, where he laid on his stomach rapidly reading another one of Mun-Yeong's stories.

He snickered and imagined how disgusted she would look if she were here. Rose petal lips twisted in distaste. It had been hours since he had left her and he wondered what she was doing? Sharpening knives? Scaring small animals?

But he didn't have to wonder for long because his phone vibrated in his pocket and her name lit up on the screen. She would probably try to convince him to come home again, ignoring his decision to leave on the weekends. Not understanding that he needed time away, being around her all the time was difficult enough. Seeing her every morning and every night was hard. It would be easy if he could convince his eyes to stop looking at her. But alas, they were disobedient. So the weekends were his only escape from her spell.

He carelessly opened her message and then pressed it shut. Feeling a flush run from the tips of his toes to top of his head. His breath hitched and his blood simmered. Was it possible to hyperventilate and pass out and die from lack of oxygen? He was about to figure out.

Maybe I'm dreaming right now. This is just another one of those dreams. I fell asleep and I'm dreaming.

He almost convinced himself until another message came. And with trembling hands he excused himself to the bathroom and shakily sat on the toilet. Taking a deep calming breathe, fortifying himself only to crumble like a sandcastle when he opened the message.

How do I look?

Her feet were encased in red heels, dainty like the rest of her. But it was the rest that felt him grasping for breathe. A red corset hugged her body making her already small waist look impossibly slim delicate even, but he knew better, her panties were connected to thigh high matching stockings.He had never seen anything this tempting. He briefly wondered how they would feel on his skin. How would she feel on his skin?

When the phone began to vibrated in his hands, he almost dropped it. He stared down at the phone, fear and lust both raging in his body. Until he finally accepted the call, I must be crazy.

"What are you doing?!" He exclaimed genuinely wondering why she wanted to kill him today.

"Did you like the picture? I got this today. If you were home you could have helped me put it on." She proceeded, ignoring his question and proceeding to kill him further. "But don't worry, if you hurry home you can still help me take it off."

"Stop. Stop talking." He begged.

She didn't.

"It feels amazing on my skin." She moaned into his ear with that voice of hers, and he felt shivers run though his body just like when she had blown in his ears. "You can't see but it's crotch-less too, so easy access. We don't even need to take it off to have fun!"

He didn't understand how she could say these things as if she were a salesperson simply listing the benefits of the product. Was it possible to die from over-stimulation? Was today his last day? He forced himself not to look at the picture to find the slit she was referring too.

"Please stop." He pleaded again, pleading to both her and his traitor of a body that was now awake and fully aboard with everything she was selling. He glared down at the tent in his jeans, wondering if that would kill him actually, lack of blood available to flow to his brain.

"I miss you, come home."

Those words went straight to his heart without his permission. She really was an unstoppable force. It probably didn't help that he wasn't trying hard to stop her. Or at all.

"I can't." He really, really wanted to. The pin was precariously on the edge.

She huffed on the other side of the phone and he expected her to explode, volatile, a ticking time bomb ready to detonate but instead she quietly responded, "How do I look?"

"Amazing. You look amazing." He said honestly, stupidly. It took everything in him to not open the message again and see the tantalizing photo again, imagining her wrapped around him as he slammed her into the nearest wall, listening to her moans as he played with her sweet wetness through the new deadly panties. His breathes were a fast staccato, and she moaned at the sound, "It would look even better on the floor."

He didn't get a chance to reply because there was a loud knock on the door.

"Gang-Tae are you okay? We're going to get food, do you want to come?"

He cleared his throat before answering, "No, no you go ahead. I need a minute."

Jae-Soo was silent for a second before he responded, "Okay make sure to use an air freshener we'll see you soon."

He signed in relief glad that he didn't ask any questions. Better they thought he was having stomach problems.

"Only a minute? That fast huh?" She teased.

"Stop saying nonsense!" He angrily retorted, blush blooming all over his face and chest. Embarrassed that it really would be that fast, seeing her like that had awakened something primal in him. His erection wasn't going to go down on its own and he didn't have much time until Jae-Su and his brother were back. Shame washed over him.

"I...um have to go"

"No you don't. I just heard you, you told them to go ahead because you need a..... Oooooooh" He squeezed his eyes shut at her sound of recognition, he felt powerless. His hand was already creeping down to his heavy erection. It felt like it was throbbing now and the sounds she made naturally weren't helping.

"I can stay. I can help, do you want me to send more pictures? I can take one in nothing, if you'd like." She offered and he could hear her moving, and he shouted before she could actually kill him, "NO!!" He didn't want the first time he saw her....like that to be an image. He wanted to be able to touch. If she sent that picture he might run to the castle and....no. He didn't need anymore photos.

"I have to go. Goodbye." He repeated, hand reaching its target and the pleasure was instant, his knees buckled as he almost fell to the ground.

"You sound incredible, send me a photo too. I want to see."

He looked down at this dick, head disappearing and reappearing in his grip. Fluid dripping down the sides, easing his way.

"Okay. You sound like you're having fun. I'll leave you to it. Come home tomorrow." And just like that she was gone. He groaned wanting to shout her name and maybe cry a little. Why did she have to play with him like this, he couldn't handle this. The phone fell from his grip, clattering to the side.

He pulled and twisted, feeling the end approaching as he tugged himself to completion, images of Mun-Yeong spread across his bed with him thrusting into her filling his head. She would be wild under him, giving as good as she got, nails clawing at his back.

With, a final thrust he felt his cum flew out, surging though his body violently, ultimately bringing him to his knees. "Ko Mun-Yeong!!" He rasped out as his vision blurred and after a long minute he opened his eyes, looking down at the mess he had made.

Cum stains dripped down his phone.

"Wow"

He looked down at the phone in shock.

She never hung up.

#it s okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #ko moon young #moon gang tae #iotnbofic #morefilth #kdrama #im offically obsessed #itsokaynottobeokay #it's okay to not be okay #it's okay to not be okay fanfiction #ko mun yeong

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