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for-fucks-sake-h · 3 years ago

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At My Weakest - three

rated: m, mature | word count: 4.4k | story page

“I am summer... yearning for a drop of your rain.”

- Gemma Troy

“Fucking finally,” Harry growled, his body shooting forward to press Gianna against the kitchen counter.

She was equally fervent, gripping into the collar of that god forsaken polka dot shirt like her life depended on it, tasting his kiss like it was her first meal after starving.

That’s what it felt like; like she was starving for him. For the sounds he made, for his skin under her palms, for that excruciating push of his cock inside her. Every single part of him only made her crave more.

“Thought she’d never leave,” Gianna gasped as her head fell back on her neck.

Harry’s mouth took no pause in finding its way to the soft skin of her throat, sucking kiss after kiss to her racing pulse.

He squeezed her hips tightly, pulling her even closer as his mouth trailed down her neck and chest. She felt like the most comfortable blanket, soft and pillowy in every way, every single curve of her body driving him mad.

When she slipped out from his insistent crowding, and her fingers latched into the open buttons of his shirt, he followed her without thought. Let her lead him down the hall, fingers still gripping to her, mouth still attempting to find any piece of skin he could.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Gianna flippantly commented on the oversized pink polka dots as they stumbled into his bedroom, Harry slamming the door closed behind them.

Her fingers moved at lightning speed to get every button open, pushing the pink fabric from his shoulders as soon as she could. She could pretend like she really thought it was ridiculous all she wanted, but she knew deep down that he could wear anything and make it look good.

That wasn’t something she either noticed or cared about before. It was unnerving the way she looked at him now, how the sliver of his chest caught her eye the moment she saw him, how it sent a blazing spike of heat down her spine just from a glimpse of his skin. Maybe it was because she knew what it felt like beneath her fingers now, the feel of his skin overtop the supple yet firm expanse of his chest was now ingrained in her mind with nowhere to go, no outlet, no escape.

Harry shook his arms loose from the fabric and no sooner did the shirt hit the floor did he have both hands gripping her - one on the smallest part of her soft waist and the other wrapped against her jaw, angling her face up to his.

“That why you were eyeing me up back there?” The words were spoken low in Harry’s throat, timbre deep as he looked down at her with blazing eyes.

It was amazing really, the way the green would change right before her eyes. She’d noticed it before. It was as if every time he looked at her for more than a few seconds, his irises would dilate and the green and gold specks would illuminate so bright she had to look away.

Except for now. Now she bathed in it, silently begging for it to swallow her whole.

She didn’t bother with a response, instead leaned up slowly, eyes steady on his as she torturously closed every inch between them. Until her lips were encased in soft pink warmth and her body melted.

He wrapped her up in him, pulled her so close she felt like she could barely breathe, like she was suffocating from the scent of his shampoo and buttery softness of his lips. And she welcomed it. Adored it, longed for it, begged for more. She couldn't get close enough, and it felt like a sin to have to separate long enough for them to pull their clothes off. Her shirt, her pants, his pants, her bra, his boxers, all falling to the floor one after another until he was mercifully tugging her underwear down her thighs as his tongue slipped along her bottom lip.

Gianna’s squeal of a giggle was rambunctious in comparison to the growl that escaped Harry’s throat when he practically tackled her onto his bed, immediately sinking into the mattress - sinking into eachother’s warmth and eagerness.

Her hands raked through his hair when he kissed across her jaw, nipping softly on his way down her chest. She arched into him, back curving off the mattress in an attempt to get closer, until his mouth circled her nipple so delicately she felt like her skin could crawl off. But when his warm tongue smoothed over her nipple, flicking the peak over and over again, she was all breathless moans and gripping hands.

And that was the thing about Harry, he loved it. Wanted more sounds slipping from her perfect lips, wanted her to tug on his hair harder, wanted her hips twitching off the mattress more than she could bear.

He looked up at her, enamored with the way her chin was tilted back, her neck and jaw tight and on display, her breath visibly escaping her heaving chest when his hand slipped down her body to find its way between the hot skin of her thighs.

Her moan was like a song he couldn’t stop playing, a melody he hummed to himself without even noticing, that’s how much it was intricately rooted in his brain. He wanted to hear it as much as possible, over and over, louder and louder. He got inklings of it when he teased her, snippets when his mouth tormented her, and a smooth, keening noise fell from her lips when his middle finger slipped inside her. A hook, a twist and a steady, slow pump had her hips moving with him, following every movement like a carefully choreographed dance.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Harry murmured against her chest, his tongue sweeping out over her nipple once more.

Her nails scratched against his scalp in response, her moan sending another wave of fire across his skin. He pushed himself up onto his forearm, eyes entranced with every curve of her body, flicking wildly from the blissful look on her face to the way her hips rolled against the mattress as he eased another finger inside her.

“Please…” she breathed, one hand gripping to the bed sheet while the other squeezed tighter to a handful of his roots.

Her back arched further, her hips stilling for a moment as he curled his fingers deeper and stopped, hooking them in a way that had her head going fuzzy. He remained completely still, breath caught in his throat as she swirled her hips before angling down on his fingers further. He was mesmerized, watching in awe as she practically grinded down on his fingers, her hips making patterns against his mattress.

“There you go,” he encouraged her softly, eyes trained on every move she made. “That’s it, love. Mhm, there you go.” His voice was so low he didn’t even recognize it. It was like he could barely get the words out but couldn’t stop from saying them.

It was like something switched for him in that moment. He’d give this girl anything she wanted, fill any desire she had, if it meant keeping her there. He’d never had that before; to have someone in his bed and be thinking about how he could get her to stay within his sheets after the high had been chased.

A whine crawled up his throat at the thought, completely taking him off guard. He pressed his forehead into her sternum, somehow feeling her heart hammering through her skin. Maybe it was his imagination - his foggy, desire filled thoughts playing tricks on him.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he could feel her heart beating for him in a way that was more than just lust, more than whatever pleasure he was giving her.

“Harry,” she breathed, her voice like honey whenever her lips caressed his name.

He pressed his forehead into her chest more, tongue languidly lapping out to taste her skin. He couldn’t stop from planting wet kisses against her trembling frame, his laps laying her heart for a moment, as if he could absorb her rhythmic heartbeat to match his own.

And then all he could do was slither down her body, catching the way her hips arched up to him to meet his greedy mouth, tongue licking fully through her wet folds with no preamble.

He moaned when she moaned, tasting her fully and breathless asking for more.

“Yeah, go on,” he mumbled against her clit, groaning harshly when her hands pulled tighter on his hair, her hips rolling on their own accord.

“Oh my,” she breathed, her words cutting off with a gasping moan.

Harry gripped Gianna’s hips in his hands, encouraging her to grind against his mouth more. “Fuck my face,” he demanded, his words coating her sensitive skin like a promise.

“God, fuck,” she cursed under her breath, shaking as he licked against her once more.

She lifted her head from the mattress in time to see him pulling away, a small whine emitting from her throat as he moved away.

“Come on. Do it right,” he spoke eagerly as he laid back, his hands grabbing at any part of her he could. “Fuck my face.”

The devilish smile pulling at her lips did nothing but ignite the fire in the pit of Harry’s stomach, every inch of his skin tingling as he watched her pull up from the bed to crawl over him, legs straddling his waist for a moment as her face hovered over his.

“Who are you,” she murmured, obviously not really caring for a reply before her full lips were pressed against his in a slow kiss, her tongue sweeping against his only to taste herself.

Harry’s hands smoothed over her waist, trailing down her hips until he could grip the supple flesh of her thighs, his fingers digging in harder than ever.

Everything she did made him hotter than the moment before, his body blazing beneath her as he guided her up his chest until her knees planted on either side of his head.

He couldn’t take it, she was moving too slow; he needed her on his tongue again. So with a gentle squeeze and tug against her hips, her knees slid apart the inch needed for him to lift his head from the mattress and find her delicate skin, warm and wet and waiting for him.

Her gasp was all the encouragement he needed to pull her down fully on him, until every inch of his mouth and chin was covered in her desire. He gripped her hips tighter, lapping across her clit over and over as she moaned.

One hand pressed against the small of her back, the other splaying out across the soft skin of her lower stomach until his thumb could find her clit and his tongue could press into her fully.

“Shit,” Gianna gasped, one of her hands pushing roughly through the top of his hair as the other gripped at one of his wrists.

“Mhm,” Harry hummed against her core as she found her perfect rhythm - until she was rolling her hips without any second thought, grinding against his mouth and chin, chasing her high.

Maybe this is what real bliss was, he thought. A woman doing exactly what she wants with you.

He could tell when her high took over, ripping through her body until she was trembling over him, legs twitching and shaking as she pressed him further into the mattress by his hair, the sounds slipping from her throat paired with her orgasm coating his tongue only making him throb harder.

She practically collapsed over him, one of her hands still in his hair as her other caught her upper half from falling completely. She eased onto the bed beside him, and like a moth to a flame, he followed, rolling onto his side, his face in line with her stomach.

“Fuck,” she breathed as he pressed his lips just below her belly button, sucking kisses being planted on her overly warm skin - her hip, her waist, her breast, her neck - making his way up her body until he reached her face.

She kissed him when his lips found hers, sucking his plush bottom lip into her mouth easily as her hand cupped the side of his neck.

“Your mouth is…” she started as her fingers trailed down his body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. And she may have finished her sentence, but Harry couldn’t be sure with the ringing in his ears just as her hand found his length.

He may have been embarrassed by the noise that escaped his throat when she wrapped her fingers around him if he was in any stable state of mind. But he wasn’t. All of his thoughts were of her and the pleasure coursing through his body.

He couldn’t get enough, and he couldn’t keep up with her - completely overwhelmed.

No sooner was she kissing his mouth before she was kissing his tip, a groan pulling from deep in his chest as his back met the mattress and her warm mouth encased him.

“G,” he breathed, his fingers fisting through his own hair once and twice as she bobbed on him. “Love,” he moaned as she sucked, one of his hands finding the back of her head weakly, fingers scratching against her scalp to pull her attention back to him.

She pulled off his length with a gentle pop, looking up at him with swollen, overly bitten lips and dazed eyes.

“You’re gonna make me explode,” he chuckled weakly, begging his eyes to stay open and on her. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and somehow she was in his bed, giving him more pleasure than he deserved.

Her lips curled into a self assured smile as she crawled up his body. “That’s the point,” she whispered as her lips found his once more, her core lining up with his length perfectly.

He kissed her back with a moan, heat prickling his skin everywhere she touched. Her wet core brushed his length over and over again as her lips smoothed over his, until he couldn’t take it anymore, reaching down to guide himself into her when she pressed back into him again.

It was slow, the way their bodies connected fully as they moaned into each other’s mouths. They both ached for that feeling in the same way, gripping hands and contented sighs falling from their lips as they melted into each other with ease.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” Harry whispered against her mouth, the words spilling from his lips without thought.

Gianna moved over him with a lazy roll of her hips, wanting nothing more than to let herself infinitely mold to him.

“Good...” she moaned as she pushed herself up, her hands planting themselves on the strongest part of his chest, her hair curtaining around her face as she rode him harder, “don’t.”

Her words were simple, but they didn’t need to be any more than that. Harry could hear it in her tone; he knew that she was guarded and working against it. And how could she not be. He understood. But when they were like this, she didn’t feel closed off. It was like she couldn't stop herself, like her ribcage opened, exposing her vulnerable, overly beating heart.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping her sides, her hips, the fullness of her ass, eyes traveling over her in awe. He reached up quickly, grabbing the back of her neck to pull her down to him and meet her mouth with needy lips.

She kissed him feverishly, moaning into his mouth with every thrust of her hips. Her hands found his throat, cupping each side lightly at first, before her grip tightened a bit, and then a bit more, and then a tiny bit more than that.

He gasped around a groan as his eyes rolled closed, his hips helplessly meeting hers as he came, a sound similar to a muffled shout slipping past his lips. She watched him ride out his high, his face relaxing from crinkled brows to a lazy, blissed out smile.

He was gorgeous.

She smothered him completely, his arms instantly wrapping around her waist to keep her close.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he murmured into the skin of her neck, the scent of her shampoo making him feel like he was high. Maybe he was... completely and totally high on her.

She hummed as she raked her fingers through the side of his sweaty hair, the contentness of his arms around her that tightly doing more than she knew it could.

When Gianna cuddled further into the soft sheets that surrounded her, she expected a warm body to also be encasing her.

Instead, the sheets were crinkled beside her, empty, the room still dark from the night. She could hear muffled voices coming from the apartment. Harry’s bedroom door was cracked open, the light from the kitchen visible.

She creeped out of his bed, tip-toeing across the room to stand by the door and peek through the opening.

He was arguing, she could tell by his rushed words without being able to make out what he was saying.

“Don’t be stupid, Harry.”

That was Gemma, and for whatever reason, her words made Gianna’s heart plummet. She knew they were talking about her, how could they not be.

Gianna never slept in his room, for the weeks that their thing was going on, she always snuck out of his room at some point. And for this exact reason.

“Okay, Gem,” he said sarcastically. “Gonna go to bed now, if that’s alright.”

Gianna moved away from the door, rushing back into his bed, purposely facing away from his side of the bed when she laid down.

He crept in moments later, a sigh escaping his lips once his door was pushed closed. Gianna tried to even her breathing despite her racing heart, listening as he walked over to the bed, a couple of beats passing before he was sliding in beside her. He released another sigh once he was laying down, the bed moving as he presumably turned onto his side.

It was quiet then, Gianna keeping perfectly still as she breathed softly, her thoughts racing still even as her heart slowed. She didn’t need to know the whole conversation to know Gemma didn’t like what was going on between them. She assumed the protective sister in her came out, and Gianna couldn’t really blame her. She had baggage, and a lot of it. Nothing good could come from this, whatever it was.

But even though Gianna knew she was playing with fire, she wanted to be burned.

And then Harry’s arm wrapped around her waist to pull her into his waiting chest, as if he could hear her thoughts.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry eased when she startled at his touch. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered as she settled against him, his knee finding its way between her legs as he held her close, his body easily melting against hers once more.

Harry fell asleep almost instantly. Gianna took quite a bit longer before her drowsiness finally pulled her under.

“Friday?” Gemma asked with wide eyes. “That’s so soon, babe.”

Gianna nodded from where she leaned over the kitchen counter, finishing a piece of pizza over the open box, still in her work clothes sans heels.

“I know, but it was available now so I figured I should jump on it before someone else did.”

After the night she overheard Harry and Gemma arguing, Gianna couldn’t find her own place fast enough. It was time - she had overstayed her welcome on Harry and Gemma’s couch.

If anything, she thought maybe she overstayed her welcome in Harry’s bed, too.

As an easy fix, she went on the hunt for her own place and luckily enough, found something she liked that she could afford on her own and could move into in less than a week.

She didn’t want things to get weird between her and Harry, or her and Gemma. Gianna had known them for a long time, and they were there for her through everything with Steve - took her in with no questions. She would be lucky to sneak out of all this with no damage.

So she signed a lease and would be moving out of their place in two days. She knew it was fast, but truly thought it was for the best.

“Did you tell Harry?”

Gianna internally winced, careful not to show a reaction as she brushed her hands together over the pizza box before turning her back to Gemma to wash her hands.

“Not yet, I haven’t seen him the last couple days. Work’s been crazy busy.”

The truth was, Gianna was actively working late to avoid him. By the time she got home the last few nights, she would be so tired that she passed out on the couch. It was effective - Harry usually went to bed early and was up way before her in the mornings - making their paths uncrossable.

“Well, you should let him know soon.”

Gemma’s features were soft when Gianna turned back to her. There was something behind Gemma’s eyes, like she had a secret, but she didn’t expand any further.

And Gianna thought about the look on her face for the rest of the evening. While she cleaned up the kitchen, while she showered, while she got herself situated on the couch at nearly 1AM.

Harry’s bedroom door hadn’t even cracked open, not even a sound coming from the room since Gianna had gotten home. She contemplated going in there, sneaking in and just slipping into his bed and his warm embrace. But she stopped herself. Soon enough she wouldn’t have that luxury anyway so she might as well just get used to it.

The truth was, and she wasn’t sure why, but she was afraid to tell Harry she was leaving. Maybe because she knew their little arrangement was coming to an end and she wasn’t ready for that to be a reality yet. Maybe deep down she knew she had let herself get too deep in it and now had to climb her way out. She liked Harry, she liked him too much.

That was the thing about secrets, wasn’t it? They always found a way out.

So two days later, after still having not told Harry that she was moving, Gianna felt like her stomach could fall right out of her body at the sight of him in the doorway of his room, quietly watching her collect the few random things that had found a home amongst his.

She was completely unaware that he had stood there for more minutes than he was even sure, watching her attach a hair clip to the bottom of her shirt, picking up her current read from the nightstand she had wordlessly taken over, a chapstick that she hadn’t minded sharing. He watched as her fingers slowly drifted over a stray tee shirt that hung from the back of his desk chair, seemingly lost in thought, before she decidedly plucked it from its place to claim it as her own.

She had claimed a lot of things hers in the time she spent hidden away in his bedroom.

Her small gasp seemed genuine, somehow not sensing his presence. That alone had Harry holding back a cryptic laugh, because he could feel her even when she was in a different room.

“You scared me,” she breathed with a hand over her chest.

“Sorry.”

They wordlessly stared for a moment, eyes attempting to say things that neither of them had the courage to utter.

“Going somewhere?” Harry finally spoke, his tone cooler than ever.

And she hated that it effectively caused a chill to roll down her spine.

“I found a place.”

Silence again, a small nod of understanding from Harry. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans before casually leaning against the door frame.

“Cool. Do you like it?”

He looked completely indifferent, making conversation like any other day. Except that they didn’t make small talk like this anymore. Many conversations had been held in his bedroom, some funny, some serious, some sexy, some dreamlike, and some so open that they practically hurt.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Gianna fiddled with the sleeve of her blouse, subconsciously pulling at the loose thread that hung from the seam.

“When do you move in?”

Gianna tried not to outwardly cringe. “Tonight.”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting… resistance? She couldn’t even explain why she should expect that from him other than simply wanting it. There was a part of her that just wanted him to want her to stay.

“That’s great, G. Congrats.”

The resistance was surely nowhere in sight. Emotion, yearning, pensiveness - also nonexistent.

Gianna knew it wasn’t fair to want a reaction from Harry, but his passiveness was a stark difference from what she had seen from him as of late. But they did what they did, and now it was over. It wasn’t something that could have lasted forever, and that was never the intention anyway.

But as much as it was the right time for Gianna to move forward, she couldn’t help feeling like she was leaving him behind, regardless of him being okay with being left. He helped her in more ways than she could have explained, and for that fact alone, she’d miss their time together.

That wasn’t the only reason.

“Well, thanks for… everything.” Gianna watched every minute movement he made.

“Come on, I didn’t do anything,” Harry countered with a wave of his hand, eyes trailing across her face.

Gianna forced a small smile before choosing that moment to walk towards him and his bedroom door. Harry stood up straight in the doorway - that was as far as he could will his body to move. He wanted to give her a hug at least, he wanted to tell her that he would miss her, but all he did was stand there.

When Gianna leaned up to press the softest kiss to the corner of his mouth, lips like a flower brushing his skin, Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his heart beating so roughly that he was sure she could hear it.

“I’ll see ya around,” she murmured, her perfume caressing him the way her skin once had.

Harry moved into his room, silently sitting on the edge of his bed with a lump in his throat as he listened to the jingle of her keys lifting from the entry table bowl, his head hanging and his eyes drifting shut by the time the heavy door closed behind her.

a/n: Welcome back! I should be saying that to myself, I know lol. I’m honestly so happy I could get something out of my head. I really hope you enjoyed it. The literal biggest thanks to my girls @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays for inspiring me daily and giving me their unconditional support I love you both so much. Clink clink! Thank you to anyone that reads, it’s greatly appreciated. I would love to hear your thoughts!

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#harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles series #1dff #amw

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heli0s-writes · 4 years ago

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crystalline*

A/N: Instead of attending to the rest of my WIPS, here’s 1.6k words of Bottom Bucky and Service Dom reader. Throatfucking. Erm. Cathartic crying.

Warnings: Bucky working out trauma. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You teach him how to want things again.

His pieces from the past, the joys he used to have taken too soon— you tell him he can have it all back.

It started with food, predictably. No longer being tube-fed slurry, Bucky quickly embarked on discovering all the new flavors of the 21st century.

Chocolate alone was a month-long passion as he attempted to scrub out the standard issued combat rations haunting his tongue. Chalky cuts like cold pressed gravel— fuck that. The first time you broke off a square of unroasted, dark, sprinkled with Himalayan sea salt chocolate, Bucky’s head hit the back of the couch with a pathetic mewl and a million things rushed through his mind of all the ways he could keep feeling this good.

Sleep came next— something he thought he’d had enough of, but the difference between getting perma-frosted every decade and lying face down in whatever memory foam’s made out of is lifetimes apart.

Bubble baths. Streaming apps. Nice clothes.

Attention and affection. Kisses. Braids in his hair. Tickles for extra laughs. His ego’s in overdrive because he has half a thought about anything and you’re fulfilling it like his personal genie. You say he needs all the dopamine he can get and you’re gonna give it to him.

And you give it to him in spades.

Orgasms. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s spoiled rotten.

Morning sex, afternoon sex, sex before bed. Blindsided in hallways and under conference room tables. The compound pool’s been properly christened more than once, and if Tony ever found out just exactly how many of those precious luxury cars have seen the imprint of Bucky’s ass, he’d set them all on fire.

But, reconciliation comes for him eventually. Spend long enough feeling all good he figures it was about time he starts screwing it up. He turns greedy, he starts wanting for too much. His girl’s an insatiable little beast, but even beasts have limits.

Bucky went shy when he asked, stuttering about how it’s okay if you didn’t—if you weren’t—it’s kinda strange— but you’d put your hand over his and tilted his chin up.

“Bucky,” you said fondly, “Baby,” and then a sweet smile curled over your pretty pink lips like spun sugar, “I’d eat your ass like a five-course meal. I’ll let you fuck me on the moon. What is it, huh?”

He could’ve kissed your dirty mouth silly.

“I want you to use a toy—"

“We do all the time.”

“—on me.”

And that sweet candy pink smile turned red hot and wicked. No limit in sight.

You approach the bed like a fever dream and all the blood in Bucky’s body congregates south.

Nothing on but the 2-day-shipping-because-the-phone’s-a-genie-too leather harness sitting snugly on your hips and a grin. The heaviness between your thighs hangs like both an offering and a weapon.

He asked for it. He wanted it. Just—maybe, to start— can you be rough with him. Then, stuttering once more because he doesn’t know how to justify why. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s hard to say out loud that with all the things you let him have, that after nearly a century of being out of his own body, he… wants to give it away.

He’s messed up, baby. Sick down to his rotten core.

You only shushed him. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll rough you up real fucking good. No why’s necessary.

Fleshy weight brushes against your inner thigh, swinging idly from one side to the other. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, still dressed at the edge of the mattress, skin beginning to prickle, nerves taking a hard left into arousal. When your hand finds rough landing in his hair, he thinks he must be the luckiest bastard in the entire world.

Bucky drops on his knees like dead weight, nearly tearing off his clothes, feeling the upsurge of heat in his cheeks and chest. His eyelids are fluttering, your face going fuzzy but he can still see that look of adoration you reserve for him.

He’s pondering if that old saying is true—if there can be too much of a good thing, if he’s become spoiled sick, or if he could overdose on pleasure when you start thumbing the edge of his mouth.

“Pay attention,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Open.”

He’s tingling when you put two fingers in, moving around his tongue, scissoring them against his inner cheek. They explore for a while, bolder each passing second. He can tell you’re getting excited too, your chest heaving gradually, watching him with curious intent.

“You like this?” You ask, lip between your teeth, and Bucky nods, leaning further in, spit following the path of your hand down to his neck. You palm the cock like it’s always belonged to your body and he’s mesmerized at how it rises from your grip, moving over his face to rest on his cheek.

“It’s big, baby.” You warn, full on now. You stroke the outline of his jaw with it, leaving a burning path in its wake. “You sure?”

He quietly likes that you ask—honey-toned and patient, needing to hear it, knowing that he needs to hear it from himself. All those things he’d been made to say with his body and not with his mind.

Now he gets it back, as you said. Gets a part of himself back, too.

“Yes—ah—yes.”

Bucky’s words are slurred into your hand, but he’s begging with his eyes. Yes. I want it. Please let me. Please make me. Please fix me.

You replace your fingers, sluicing up the cock with his spit. Then, you fuck his mouth slow, feeding it to him inch by inch before dragging it away. Bucky’s lips are quivering for more, jaw slack, panting hoarsely. He feels overcome at how you stand over him, mesmerized by him, too.

“Yeah, honey,” you croon, and Bucky’s heart swells with pride. “You’re doing so well, pretty boy.”

He’s licking blindly and sucking between ragged gasps when he attempts to say your name, knowing full well he’ll never get the whole word out before you wedge back into him. And god, it’s hot. It’s dirty and filthy and so fucking sweet.

You grasp the base of his skull, keeping his head still and laying into his mouth rhythmically. The cockhead hits Bucky’s throat, pushing into the soft palate, reaching further. His eyes are rolling, whimpers catching where the toy ends, caught in the breath of air in his mouth.

“Take it, baby,” you command, and Bucky gags. One hand scrambles for your thigh, other clawing his own, pressing red crescents into the flesh. It hurts. It hurts good like it never did before and Bucky chokes it down, eyes squeezed shut now, tears prickling from the ducts and collecting at the corners.

“Oh, you’re so good,” and his body just keeps lighting up. “You good boy. You perfect, perfect boy.” And he’s nodding desperately, needy, gut coiled tight like a spring.

“So fucking dirty,” you hiss, pulling hard on his hair, “Look at you— leaking all over yourself.”

He is. He’s a goddamn mess, sticky lines of precome down his shaft and collecting at his base.

“Drooling all over my cock like this. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”

“Uhhngg— hnnng—” He moans weakly at the things you do to him and for him.

“That’s right, you are. Keep going, show me how much you want it.” Jesus, the way you make him feel— like he could be exactly who he is and never have to apologize for a goddamn thing. Broken and ruined but you’d still give him the whole fucking world.

The noises Bucky’s making are muffled and obscene as he fists himself, shuddering and pumping erratically. One more final drive from your hips and he’s bursting at the seams, shattering to pieces, coming with a strangled cry.

You don’t let up, taking his throat unrelentingly, watching him sob and fall apart. He’s going limp in your clutch, letting his eyes well up like pools, your smiling face so beautiful in the crystalline light.

If he’s sick, then you must be the fever he can’t sweat out. The fire burning through his bones until he’s nothing but smoldering bits of debris afterwards. Grains and soot of him floating in the steady flow of your faithful current.

When he’s made a perfect mess of himself, come-covered and quivering, you finally let him breathe again, pulling out wetly.

“There you go,” you say, kneeling to kiss his panting mouth, “Did that feel good?”

Your lips are a cool balm on his swollen ones and Bucky hums a response, body still thrumming. “Yeah,” he sighs, sensitive like a wound, raw and open and tender. “Real— good.”

You rub his back and run your fingers through his hair, letting him rest in your arms. You wipe away the tears on his cheeks and over his trembling eyelids.

Gentle words tumble from your lips. Promises of love and of good memories to replace the bad ones. More kisses. More affection. More reclamation.

All those little granules of fractured time, you collect in the soft surrender of his mouth. Wet and salty, they fall together there, and Bucky feels himself clicking into place. Perfect and whole and treasured like an iridescent pearl.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #smut #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

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princess-of-riviaa · 5 years ago

Text

Show Me How You Like It Done

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Summary: After Clark gets jealous, you tell him to take his frustration out on you. Surprisingly, he does.

Warning(s): jealous!Clark, rough sex, fingering, overstimulation (if you squint)

Word Count: 2.3k

The front door slams shut. You jump at the sound, your back to your boyfriend. Both of you are unhinged from the party. Clark’s still bothered by the drunken idiot who tried to flirt with you right in front of him. You’re still wound up from the brief glimpse at a darker side of your boyfriend, a side he only shows in front of the monsters and aliens he faces almost on a weekly basis. You’ve never seen that side of him up close. It took you by surprise--but even more surprising was how much it turned you on. You’d managed to talk Clark out of sending the drunken flirt a message, telling him that you were uncomfortable and wanted to go home. His protective side overruled his jealousy--just as you knew it would--and you went home without a word. The drive back had been silent; Clark struggling to hold back angry words, and you struggling to hide your arousal.

You turn to look at him now. He’s still scowling, still got that dangerous look in his eyes. You’re suddenly reminded that he could snap even the largest human in half. He could hurt you--kill you even--with a snap of his fingers. You’re embarrassed and ashamed of how that thought sends heat straight to your core.

Clark can hear your quick heartbeat and shallow breath, though he mistakes it for fear. “I’m not gonna do anything,” he assures you. “I just... need a few minutes to calm down.”

“Clark...” you begin, but lose your courage before you can tell him exactly what you’re thinking.

The emotion in his eyes is so dark that it makes his blue irises look black. He’s dangerous, he’s angry, and it turns you on so much you can’t breathe. “I know I almost lost it back there, but I promise you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid,” you manage to admit.

He raises an eyebrow and flicks his tongue out to wet his lips, and god--you’re suddenly thinking about that tongue between your legs, burying itself inside of you until you’re screaming out his name and coming around his mouth. “You’re upset though.”

You shake your head. “I’m not... upset.”

He frowns, confused as to why his senses are telling him otherwise. “Your heart’s racing. You’re barely breathing. Your hands have been shaking since we left Bruce’s house. If you’re not upset, then what...?”

“I want you,” you admit, enunciating each word slowly. Your entire face burns at the admission.

You’ve had sex with Clark before, several times. And each time has been mind-blowing--but it’s always been gentle, sweet, loving. The way he makes love is addicting, yes, but that’s not what you want tonight. And the thought of admitting that to him--not knowing how he’ll react, knowing there’s a good chance he’ll react badly to it--makes you nervous and shy.

Clark’s frown doesn’t disappear. “You want me to what?”

You’re silent, struggling to remember how to breathe as he closes the distance between you. He only stops when his chest is flush against yours. Every inch of your body that brushes against his burns until it hurts. God, you need him.

“Sweetheart, talk to me,” he murmurs in a soft, deep voice. It simultaneously makes your heart grow three sizes at the sound of the love in his voice, while also making you wetter. He cups your face in his hands and brings your gaze to his. “You know you don’t have to hide from me. Tell me what you’re thinking, beautiful.”

Still, you hesitate. Even though he’s your best friend, your confidant, your soulmate. Even though the things you’ve already confessed to him in the dark of night should have sent him running, yet he stayed. Even though everything, you hesitate. Because Clark has no idea that you crave the darkness inside of him as much as you crave his light. He calls you sweetheart, for gods sake. What will happen when he finds out that you’re not actually all that sweet?

“I have ways of making you talk, you know,” he jokes. It’s an empty threat. He could tease you until you’re shaking beneath him and more than willing to tell him anything he wants to hear. But he won’t. He always gives with you, even in the bedroom. But sometimes you want him to take. And tonight you’re selfish enough to ask him to.

“I want you to fuck me,” you finally admit. “Not make love to me--fuck me. Claim me. I want you to use all that anger and frustration you felt when that guy flirted with me and I want you to take it out on me.”

He’s silent for a very, very long time.

You open your mouth to tell him you’re joking, to forget everything you just said, but you never get a chance to speak.

Suddenly he’s kissing you in a way he’s never kissed you before. His mouth is greedy and urgent against yours, kissing you so rough that your lips instantly part in a moan. And then his tongue is pressing against yours, dancing inside your mouth, and fire shoots down your body. His hands clasp onto your waist but you’re hardly aware of them. You can’t sense anything other than his hungry mouth on you, kissing you the way you’ve always fantasized about him doing. You’re not aware you’ve even been moving backwards until your back collides with the living room wall. You release a gasp of surprise as Clark closes in on you. He’s so big that you can’t see anything but him. You have to tilt your head all the way back to look up at him.

“Is this what you want?” he growls, the sound of his voice making your toes curl. His eyes are dark again, his pupils blown with lust.

You nod and then he kisses you again, just as passionately as the first time. His fingers tug on your hair. A moan falls from you as Clark bends to kiss your neck, sucking and biting at your skin. Claiming you, just like you asked him to. If you’d known it would have been this easy, that he would’ve been this compliant, you’d have spoken up weeks ago. Something warm and hard presses into your stomach. You gasp, completely aroused at the realization that it’s Clark’s cock pressing into you, already hard and aching to be inside of you. Your hand wraps around the thick bulge in his pants and he grunts into your mouth, urging you to touch him. You squeeze his length as you run your hand up and down his clothed hard-on.

“Fuck,” he growls.

The word makes you freeze. He only ever curses like that when he’s seconds away from coming.

“Bedroom,” you get out. “Now.”

His hands are already grabbing onto your dress and lifting it up and off your body. “No--here.”

You don’t have the strength to protest as you watch him take in the sight of your naked body. The dress has a built in bra--otherwise you’d never get away without one--but you purposefully didn’t wear underwear tonight, hoping your boyfriend would fuck you before the end of the night. You came prepared. Clark’s eyes dance up and down your body. The look in his eyes, that tongue poking out to lick his lips, the quick, unsteady rise and fall of his chest--it all makes your skin burn and your desire turn desperate.

Your hands are on him now, enjoying the process of undressing him. Nothing is a stronger reminder of his godliness than his naked body--every ripple of muscle screams of his power, which his height only adds to; his dark body hair is glorious, tempting, sinful. He’s an incubus, you have no doubt about it. You’ve never wanted a man as desperately as you want Clark.

It isn’t long before you’re both naked, your mouths desperate to reach every inch of the other’s skin. You spit onto your hand before wrapping it around his cock. He lets out a predatory growl as you begin to pump him. His hand moves to your core as his mouth latches onto your breast. The room is filled with the sounds of your breathless gasps and moans of pleasure. You have no doubt he can hear the fast pace of your heart and can smell the desire pooling between your legs, and from the way his cock leaks with pre-cum, you can tell he enjoys flooding his senses with you. You moan as his fingers circle your clit. He knows the exact amount of pressure to apply against your bud and what speed to circle his fingers at to make you come undone in a handful of seconds. The touch of his fingers and the wetness of his mouth on your breast sucking greedily at your nipple makes your body shake far too soon.

“Clark, wait!” you manage to get out, your voice breathless and shaky. “I’m gonna cum!”

You’ve never cum more than once at a time before, and you want to cum around his cock. You don’t just want his fingers tonight.

“Let go for me, baby,” he breathes against your skin.

You tug at his hair, his shoulders, anything to keep you tethered to reality, to keep you from going over the edge too quickly. But he must sense you fighting your orgasm because he brings his other hand to your other breast and twists and pulls at your nipple. The pain is surprising. He’s never been anything but gentle with you. But you realize it’s a turn on as your head grows fuzzy and the only thing you’re aware of anymore is his fingers and that mouth--

You cry out as you cum around his fingers. Your body shakes as waves of pleasure roll through you. Clark catches you before your knees can give out. The orgasm makes you dizzy, almost delirious, and you can’t process anything fast enough. Suddenly your back is pressed flush against his chest and you face the wall as he spreads your legs. He’s still going to fuck you, you realize.

“Clark, I can’t--” you begin, but the desire is clear in your voice, so he ignores your protests and runs the tip of his cock between your folds, coating himself in your cum.

“This is what you asked for, baby.” His reminder is an arousing whisper against your ear. “You want me to fuck you rough, so I’ll give it to you rough.”

And then he presses his cock all the way inside of you. He always goes slow, always lets your walls adjust to the size of him. But not tonight. You whimper as the pain registers in your body, a sting so sharp it’s more painful than pleasurable. Before your walls can loosen around him to a comfortable squeeze, he grips your hair in his hand and begins to thrust inside of you. You cry out as he uses your body. You’d wanted him to be rougher with you, but nothing could have prepared you for this. It’s hot--it’s so fucking hot. It’s not long before your cries turn to gasps of pleasure. He grunts as he pounds you into the wall, the sound completely animalistic. Your nails grip the wall on either side of your head as your mind grows dizzy with another approaching orgasm. You’ve never cum more than once, though, and you don’t know if you’re able to do it again, especially within a matter of minutes. His hands grip your hips tighter than he’s ever held you before--tight enough to leave bruises behind. His movements are so fast and rough and full that his balls slap against your clit with each thrust, only adding to your stimulation. It’s so good, but so much, too much--

You scream--actually scream--as you cum, your walls clenching impossibly tight around Clark’s cock as he continues to ram into you. His breathing grows shallower as yours stops completely. He wraps an arm around your front and pulls you against him, letting you throw your head back against his shoulder. His movements never slow; if anything, they grow faster. By the time you’re coherent again, his movements are uncoordinated and sloppy--he’s coming. You realize it a second before you feel his hot seed shoot out of him. It coats your walls and makes you feel even fuller than you already did with his cock deep inside of you. He thrusts three, four more times inside of you as he continues to cum, filling you with everything inside of him. Finally he stills. You both stay like that, struggling to catch your breath and refocus after your insane highs.

You bring a hand up to his hair and run your fingers through the smooth strands. “That was... wow, Clark.”

He kisses your neck, a loving peck. “Is that what you wanted?” You can hear the nervousness in his voice, like he’s afraid he overstepped.

You pull away from him, both of you sighing when he pulls out of you, and turn to face him. You wrap your hands around your neck and pull him down for a gentle kiss. “That was better than what I expected.”

He pulls back to look you in the eye, clearly relieved. “Really?”

You nod and bite your lip. “But you know that means I’ll want you to be rough for now one,” you giggle.

He gives you a playful look. “Oh, I’m counting on that.”

He kisses you, and even though it’s slow and loving, you feel it all the way down in your toes.

***

Tag list:

@agniavateira @hnryycvll @littlefreya @celestial-vomit @lestersglitterglue @watermeloncavill @honeychicana @penwieldingdreamer @elixasays @mary-ann84 @buckysgoldenheart @noz4a2 @trippedmetaldetector @omgkatinka

#clark kent #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #man of steel #henry cavill #henry cavill smut

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so-cool-day6 · 4 years ago

Text

Say Please

[10:05 PM] A beautifully strangled whimper enters your ears as Minho lies below you, bucking up his hips, looking for the hand you’ve pulled away from him one too many times.

A sickly sweet smile finds its way onto your lips as you watch as he squirms, attempting to break free of the black fuzzy handcuffs you attached to the bed. His body is practically glowing in his own sweat from how heated his entire body felt every time you laid a single finger on him.

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it, Y/n?” he sets a hard glare on you while he involuntarily tries to find the slightest bit of stimulation that you refuse to hand over.

Just as quickly as it left, your hand makes its way back onto his greedy cock, gently squeezing and slowly pumping. He hisses at the contact and immediately starts jerking up into your hold again. “Really? I’m overdoing it? Like you haven’t done this to me and made it a thousand times worse before...” you scoff.

Minho only grunts in response as he uses your hand as a fucktoy. He’s getting needier by the second. Panting now, Minho speeds up, “I’m close-”

“No!” he complains as you remove your hand from him for the hundredth time that night, denying him any sort of release. He feels his high being ripped away once more. It’s so unfair.

The delicious sound of his high pitched whining makes you want to give in and ride him like no tomorrow, but he still has yet to learn that you’re not always going to be a good little girl for him. He needs to learn that you know how to take charge too.

“Besides, I believe you gave me permission to do whatever I wanted,” you reminded him of the earlier conversation with him about allowing you to take over, so you two can test it out. At first, he was very hesitant, but he soon gave in and thought that nothing too bad would happen. Now he’s beginning to regret that decision…

Huffing, Minho throws his head back into the soft pillow underneath him in frustration. It’s kind of cute seeing that he’s being pouty because he knows you’re right. You chuckle as you run your other hand down the side of his face, cupping his cheek gently to make him face you.

Minho’s eyes open to see you. You notice how watery his gaze is and you almost feel bad. It’s not something he’s used to. What he’s used to, is being in control of everything, being in control of when either one of you gets to cum. Now he’s lost all that control and has handed it over to you, which made you quite surprised when he agreed to let you be the dom of the night. Even more surprisingly, though he whines about it, he’s been very compliant to each and every one of your demands.

Seeing the way Minho looks at you with heavily dark eyes, completely fucked and needy, makes your heart flutter. You never knew he could have such a look. An expression only for you to see.

“You know... you’ve actually been pretty good for me, Minnie,” you begin, “Though you have a mouth that won’t shut up, I’ll allow it since you’re not used to being in this position,” you tell him. His face heats up at your praise, not familiar with the way it comes of your tongue instead of his.

There’s a gentleness in the way you look down at him, and deep down, he knows he’s not deserving of it. He knows that he’s been talking back and that it’s not deserving of that sweet delicate voice of yours. If he were in your position, he would have surely punished you by now, making you watch him get himself off as he left you there until he thought you had enough... But you were not him.

You lean over him, making sure that his leaking cock doesn’t graze against you by accident. You blink at him once, “Does my baby need to cum?” you ask, the devilishly delicate tone of yours making him shiver. A little too eagerly, Minho nods his breathe picking up at a simple question. “Use your words, Minho,” you instruct.

He gulps hard, “Yes,” he answers, unable to think about much else when you’re hovering just above him. It would only take a few inches more until he could sink himself into you, but you’re just out of his reach.

“Maybe I can help you,” you hint, instantly causing Minho writhe in want and hope. A smirk dances across your lips, “All you have to do is say please and I’ll make sure you get to cum and more,” you promise, leaning in closer and closer to him that your warm breath fans across his face.

The mere thought saying “please” to you was enough to send a blush straight to his ears. Minho looked up to you with wide eyes as he breath caught in his throat. There’s no way that you’re going to make him do that, make him practically beg you to let him cum... right?

The raised brow waiting for his answer told him all he needed to know. Of course you were being serious. Shyly, Minho tries to turn his head to avoid your gaze, but you quickly snap his attention back to you by keeping his face in place.

He licks his lips, gathering to courage to speak up, “P-please?” he stutters as he feels the embarrassment wash through him in an instant.

He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping he can hide from his self-consciousness that way. You can’t help but find him utterly, irresistibly adorable in that moment. You just want to pinch his cheeks and smother him in kisses, but you refrain from doing so. Now you have other matters to attend to.

Sliding down his body, you rest on his thighs, lifting up to move your panties to the side, “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you tease, settling yourself just above his sensitive hard on.

Minho looks down at you with hooded eyes, not believing he’s actually seeing your bare pussy. He thought he would never get the chance. After your little torture session of constantly edging him to the point of no return, he’s felt like it’s been ages since he’s seen any sort of relief.

You stare at him in admiration, loving the way he looked at you like you’re all he needs. With a coy smile, you let yourself sink down on him. Immediate relief floods your body as you finally take him after being absolute soaked for him this entire time. And the heavenly moan that leaves your Minho adds to the pleasure.

After allowing yourself a second to get used to him, you slide on him once and more of Minho’s moans fill your hearing. It’s enough to get you to move your hips. He leans his head back, trying his best to keep quiet, but it’s impossible to shut himself up. The feeling of you surrounding him was unbelievably blissful and he felt like he was on cloud nine. The way your walls hugged around his cock only made him realize that he loves being buried inside of you so goddamn much. He would do anything to keep you there.

Minho pulls against the cuffs around his wrists, desperately trying to break free so he can touch you all over. Sensing his need, you shake your head at him, “You’re not allowed to touch me just yet. Not until I feel like you’ve learned your place,” you warn him, continuing to bounce on him without any remorse.

He groans at your words, he wants to learn just so he can get these dammed handcuffs off of him, but it’s growing more impossible the more you clench around him. All he wants to do is break free, flip you onto your back, and fuck you senseless.

Soon you begin to feel a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. There’s something getting ready to snap and you can tell he’s beginning to feel the same way. He’s been edged so many times today, that in a matter of seconds he could burst.

With that in mind, you slow down, deciding to grind your hips down on him. He hisses at the sudden change of pace and it nearly ready to complain until you lean over his chest, leaving small kisses on his warm skin. Your mouth finds its way to his neck and up to his lips. He sighs in content, falling heavily for your lips against his.

Messily making out with him, your hand reaches over to the nightstand besides the bed. Feeling around for something in particular, you smile triumphally into the kiss once you find it. A key, which is in your grasp, reaches above Minho as you fumble to place it into the lock. Minho senses this and momentarily breaks away from you, wondering what you’re up to.

You swear you see his eyes light up like a kid on Christmas the moment he spots you freeing one of his wrists from his prison. Getting overly excited, Minho thrusts up into you, almost knocking you off balance as you attempt to free his other wrist. You place a hand on his chest and gaze down at him harshly, “Would you prefer I put these back on?” you ask, referring to the handcuffs, you were releasing him from.

At once, his hips still. “No, please,” he whines while his ears turn a cute bright red again. You stare at him for a second longer, waiting for him to try anything else. You’re pleased to know that he’s going to let you keep up your own pace.

Soon, Minho’s free of the handcuffs. Straight away, his hands find comfort in squeezing your hips, loving every second that he’s able to feel your skin between his fingers again. He moans happily when you lean back and place your hands behind you on his thighs, positioning yourself for a new angle.

The new angle allows him to hit you in all the right places, making you moan as he thrusts against your g-spot so perfectly. Your hips drive down onto him relentlessly while you let one of your hands wander down to your sensitive clit to rub in rushed circles.

“Fuck,” Minho groans lowly, feeling you squeeze tighter and tighter over his length. Without any restraint, he begins his thrusts into you to meet your own. Too lost in the pleasure of chasing after that knot that’s growing bigger and hotter inside of you, you don’t even bother to snap at him for moving without your permission.

Not even able to give him warning beforehand because it comes shooting through you in seconds, you explode in ecstasy, stilling yourself on him as your orgasm floods you. You fall apart on top of him, vision turning white and hazy as all the things you’ve done to Minho tonight flash through your mind. His hips keep pushing into you, chasing his own high as he felt your sopping wet walls clutch around him tightly.

“I-I’m cumming, fuck-” an overwhelmingly, almost too intense, feeling of bliss overtakes his entirety.

His body sits up and without realizing, Minho wraps his arms around your body, pulling you closer to him while he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You moan as you feel him coming undone inside of you, filling you up with his sweet, hot release. His body quivers against you as he rides out his orgasm for as long as he can manage while moans slowly turn into overstimulated heavy breathes, desperate for air.

“You did so good, Minnie... So, so good,” you praise, running a hand through his hair and letting the both of your catch your breathes.

In response, Minho only nods against you, feeling hopelessly lost in euphoria. His body is still shaking with disbelief that he had such a powerful orgasm. He wonders if that’s how you feel every time he decides to edge you for hours on end.

Which in turn, makes his mind dwell on what other things he makes you feel that he’s never felt before. So as you pet him on the head while he’s still deep inside of you, he wonders what else you can do to make him see the stars.

#skz #stray kids #minho #lee minho #stray kids smut #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #skz reactions #minho smut #hard hours #skz smut

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enigma-im · 4 years ago

Text

Like a Virgin Pt.2

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Incubus x F!Human Warning: Insecurities, fluff, Silas is a fuckboy, date night, first time, bonding

Word Count: 8261

Part 1 -----------------------------------

I pace around my room like an anxious chicken. I look down at my three dresses, not knowing which one to pick. Each having their pros and cons but still not making the choice easier. Silas never bothered telling me where we were going. All week I kept trying to get answers from him but he would just give me a kiss then a smile. I can't complain because it worked every time.

"just pick the red one," I mumble to myself. I reach down for the dress but hesitate when I look at the purple one. I stand straight and groan. Just pick one.

"The Yellow one will make you look bright but I'm a bit bias to the red one, the color of love and lust," a voice behind me says. I jump, turning to see Silas at my door. I tighten my towel around my chest making him laugh.

"You are early," I look him up and down. He is wearing a dark blue 2-piece suit. White dress shirt, the last two buttons undone. His blazer is also undone showing how tight the shirt is to his stomach. I can't take my eyes off him. I've seen him in dress clothes, that is his thing, but this is a lot. He looks damn sexy. Even though he still has bags under his eyes and currently his cheeks are beginning to sink.

He snaps his fingers," up here love." I look up at his cocky smirk.

I roll my eyes," shut up. Why you early?"

He gives me a once over," what, and miss this view?"

"seriously," I chide.

"Alright, I knew you would be freaking out about now. I guess I was right if you are still pacing your room looking for an outfit," he gestures to the clothes.

"As right as you are, how did you know," I don’t bother denying. He doesn’t answer but walks over to me. Grabbing my waist and looking down at me.

"I've known you for a long while. I think I can figure out if you are going to be a nervous wreck or not," he leans down and pecks my forehead," go with the red one. I'll be in the living room." with that he lets me go and walks out. I shake my head, smiling to myself.

I put on the red dress then walk to my bathroom to fix my hair. I get cleaned up and walk out into the living room. I find Silas lounging on the sofa. His arms stretched out on the back and his legs crossed at the ankle. He looks handsome here. I never bothered looking at him before this week. It felt wrong to ogle a friend but now it's different.

He finally notices me and he drops his arms off the sofa," Fuck." he rests his elbow on his knee. Looking me up and down grinning like a dork. Its almost unfitting on his sexy face. It's so dopey that I can't help but smile back.

"I'll take it you like it," I fidget with the fabric of my dress.

"Like it? I love it, you look holy. Like a goddess really. I'm not worthy of your time but I will cherish it because I'm a greedy man," he lays it on thick.

"Alright, alright. You could have just said you like it," I turn with a blush. I hear him stand from the sofa.

"And miss those rosy cheeks? never," he laughs.

"biggest flirt I have ever met," I mumble as I cup my cheek, fighting off the smile curling my lips. As I fail I turn my face into my palm, grinning like an idiot.

"aw," he coos as he holds my arms," don't hide that beautiful smile." he pries my hand away from my face. I look anywhere but him, not use to this sort of attention. He replaces my hand with his own, turning me towards him. His eyes gleam with admiration and the edges of his lips curls slightly making his cheeks crease. We say nothing to break the silence, too lost in each other's eyes. His smile grows wider before he curls his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Too damn beautiful," he whispers as he drops his head to mine. My heart swells with the gesture, my insides turning to jelly as he nuzzles my forehead. With a sigh, he turns and pecks me on the cheek before righting himself. "Sorry, lost myself there for a moment. Shall we head to dinner," he tilts his head. I take in a heavy breath, calming the fluttering butterflies in my torso. The warm fuzzy feeling flowing from his hand down into my body. I nod.

We walk out of my apartment to his car waiting out front. It's not hard to spot as it's likely the most expensive car in the lot. He helps me in, like a gentleman I didn't think he could be, and we are on our way.

The ride is exciting but nerve-wracking. The tension sits in my stomach, though it's easy to push away with our simple conversation about our days. When he puts his hand on my knee I can't decide on an emotion. His thumb petting my skin is pleasing but it gets me thinking how the night is expected to end.

Before thoughts can spiral into stomach twisting anxiety we stop in front of a building. I look up at the faintly glowing blue sign saying something in French. Silas startles me when he hops out the car. I watch him come around to my side, opening the door with an awaiting helping hand.

"We have arrived my lady," he purrs as I grab his hand. I get out the car confused, looking around at the array of valets driving cars. I have never been to place fancy enough to have valets. Can hardly think Olive Garden doing something so bouche.

"Looks expensive," I mumble as I watch a young man hop into the expensive car. Silas pulls me along into the building.

"I spare no expense for my night of apologizing and wooing," he jokes. I just hums in answer as we enter the luxurious waiting room. The area is dim, having blue edge lights under ledges and baseboards. The fish tank feels like icing on the cake. The only fish tank I've seen in a restaurant have been lobster tanks. This one has actual fish that you aren't supposed to eat.

I don't notice when we make it to the host stand, too focused on the decked-out surroundings.

"D'Amore," Silas answers without prompt. The older lad at the host stand doesn't even look up as he searches his tablet. No warning he walks away. Silas tugs me along after the man.

We walk further into the dimly lit room. I can't stop my eyes from wandering around, feeling oh so out of place. The looks of the food at people's tables screams that we shouldn’t be able to afford this. Silas and I work for decent pay but even my penny-pinching self can't fathom having enough to dine here.

A few people cast glances at us as we walk by, most lingering on Silas. When eyes go to me it's like being drowned in judgment. I definitely don't belong here.

The host introduces us to our seats before parting. Silas pushes out my chair, pushing it back in once I sit. I can't focus on him as the anxiety stacks. I feel so out of place, so wrong. I shouldn't be here, dining like I have a right to such a sophisticated place. I shouldn't be pretending as I could ever. When I look at Silas I feel about that same, I shouldn't even be with him.

As I fuel my own fire Silas reaches out and grabs my hand," Babe, are you alright?" I startle at his question. I snap my unfocused gaze to him.

"Yea, I'm alright. I just-I've never been in a place like this," I nibble on my cheek. Silas watches me, lingering on every twitch. He squeezes my hand, trying to catch my attention but it's too undirected.

"I have a question for you," he starts cryptically. I finally keep my focus on him, dread boiling to my chest.

"yea," I ask. His eyes look between mine, his face stern.

"If an android has a kid with a person and their man milk is technically from their creator, is the baby his," he says while biting back a grin.

I furrow my brow," What?"

"an android, the organic robots, if one had a kid with it's manufactured spunk that technically was a real human's nut, would he be the dad or the human who made it first," he clarifies.

I can't bring myself to answer as I'm too confused about the question. As his words linger a smile cracks onto my lips as the background fades away.

"Well," I start," it would-I mean it could be. Alright, you got me there." we both chuckle.

"Yea, it's kind of stumped me all day. I heard it from a friend and I don't know what the right answer would be. Ideally, the android is the dad but in a DNA test the human would be the dad, though he didn't shoot it," he rambles.

As we discuss this 'important' topic I feel more welcome. It's easy to see Silas as a handsome egotistical playboy who doesn't have an awkward bone in his body. I forget how completely ridiculous he is. The main reason I ever fell for him.

Dinner goes well as the conversation flows freely. Some topics are risqué and others childish. We do get a few looks from the other patrons but I could hardly care. It's hilarious to be eating such high-class food while debating what is the best 90's cartoon is.

It's clearly the Animaniacs.

It seems too soon when the check comes. The friendly rivalry over the superiority of Dc vs Marvel is put on pause when he takes out his wallet. The moment is long enough for reality to settle back in. our next activity of the night pops into my head with a startling realization.

Next, we head home.

The thought is pleasant but my stomach still twists. I like Silas and the idea of giving myself to him isn't completely off-putting, it's actually nice. Either way the chance of something going wrong bounces around in my head with no escape.

We walk out to the valet, Silas' hand on my lower back, I dwell on fears. I'm so nervous and admitting it doesn't help. We get into his car and head on out. Silas tries to keep the conversation going, which succeeds enough for the time being. It's when we turn towards my home does it fail to keep me relaxed.

I fidget in my seat, fiddling with my dress as I nibble on my cheek. I keep reminding myself of his devotion so far and how it should be impossible for sex with an Incubus to be bad. Which is true, it can-will- be amazing. Yet, the devotion part wrinkles my brain.

I tense when we near my home, the sight of the apartment pushing needles in my legs. I watch it come closer and closer, my anxiety mounting higher and higher. As my turn comes up for the parking lot I'm surprised when we pass it. I watch it go back, twisting in my seat to watch some more.

"What," I mumble as I twist in my seat. I look over to Silas who has a fighting smile on his face. I know we aren't heading to his place as it's the complete other direction, so where are we going?

"Something wrong," Silas asks, his smile widening.

"Nothing wrong, I just thought we were going to my place next," I bait.

He shrugs, looking at the clock on the dash. 8:34.

"Seems a bit early to be ending the night so fast," he answers.

"I guess," I watch him," though I can't possibly think what else you have planned besides…uhh." I drop off at the end. Silas passes me a glance, that smirk resting so peacefully.

"What other plans," he teases," are you talking about the finale of the night? The part where I lay you down and give you the best orgasms of your life?" I blush, turning towards the window, feeling like an innocent child. Silas chuckles, reaching over to rest his hand on my leg again. "No need to be so flustered, love, we have time before that," he squeezes my leg," we are heading somewhere special. Somewhere I have rarely taken a date before."

He piques my interest," Oh yeah? I'm not going to some abandoned house to be ditched, right?"

He scoffs," what kind of man do you think I am? Also, I've taken someone to an abandoned house before. Though it was his idea, not mine. Not an experience I will repeat, don't fuck with goth dudes."

"You had sex with a goth dude in an abandoned house," I laugh.

"I don't kiss and tell," he purses his lips. I bark out in laughter.

"Yes you do, that's actually how we got to here," I snicker.

"Yea, yea," he waves a hand," doesn't matter now, I'm only with you." I fluster again at his declaration. It's still hard to believe he would choose me over everyone he has been with.

"So where are we going," I change the subject.

"It's a surprise," he smiles, pleased with himself.

"a surprise? I can't remember that last time a boyfriend tried to surprise me," I answer. Out the corner of my eye, I see Silas pass me a cocky glance.

"a boyfriend? Are you calling me your boyfriend now," he teases the edge of my dress," I like it."

I blush," shut up."

"awe, don't be so mean to your boyfriend," he stops at a light. He takes the time to lean over, cornering me with an arm on my seat. "Your boyfriend's feelings are hurt, can you give me a little kiss to make it better," he pouts.

I scoff at him," you sound like such a fuckboy right now."

He shrugs," if it works."

"shut up," I smile as I grab his cheeks and press a chaste kiss to his lips. He doesn't allow me to get away with that, pulling me in for a better kiss.

His warm lips mold expertly over mine, stealing my breath so easily. His fingers crawl up my thigh, bunching up the hem of my dress. My fingers trail into his hair to grab a handful, pulling him closer as I rest against the seat. He fills the space quickly, pressing as close as he can. I feel his palm smooth under my dress till his finger timidly presses against my underwear. The tip wiggles under the band, barely touching my crotch.

A car horn makes us jump apart, starling us back into our respected seats. As I catch my breath Silas drives onward

My first clue is lights in the distance and a large line of cars following in the same direction. It finally clicks when a familiar amusement ride is revealed.

"The fair," I ask.

"Yep," he grins," perfect, right?"

"yea but aren't we both a little overdressed for a fair," I pluck at his sleeve.

"Hardly matters, we both look stunning and we are going to win the games in style," he smooths back his hair. I snicker at him.

"Whatever you say," I smile to myself as I look at the oncoming fair. It really is a good idea, though I won't pat him on the shoulder just yet.

He parks and we head in.

The fairgrounds are crowded and full of color. The lively conversation and dull lull of obnoxious music is jovial. It's such a contrast to the fine dining restaurant we ate at. This place has deep-fried everything and games rigged to make you lose. It's lovely and downright perfect.

Silas wraps his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close, and we are off.

Everything is so eye-catching, pulling my attention back and forth. The games flash colorful lights, people gathered around each booth screaming out in triumph or frustration. The food stands engulf the air with its high calories snacks. Further down the way, more lights shine as lines of people wait for their turn on some typical carnival ride. So many activities and such little time.

Silas throws an arm over my shoulder and tugs me towards a booth that doesn't have all the glamor and glam as the others. A ticket booth with a few people standing in a line before it. A family leaves the front of the line holding a rope of tickets. We slowly make it to the front to meet a smiling woman.

"Hello, sweetie," Silas grins widely," twenty tickets please, and thank you." for the added flair he throws in a wink. His arm drops from around my shoulder to my waist, pulling me closer to his side. Despite this the woman blushes to herself, smiling as she counts out our tickets.

"Here you are, sugar, twenty tickets," she smiles," I hope you have a grand ole time."

Silas takes the tickets," Will do, dear."

With that Silas tugs me away again towards the rows of well-decorated stalls. I try to not let the flirty interaction get in my head too much. It's Silas, he has always been that way. It's not like I expected him to change because of me. Still, the wink irks me just a little.

"So, what do you want to do first," Silas squeezes my hip," you are in charge from this point on."

I quirk a cheeky brow at him," That’s a bold thing to say." he smiles down at me with that spine chilling smirk.

"What can I say, sometimes it's hot to have your woman in charge," he teases. The insinuation should be alarming but the fun to be had is too tempting.

"And what if I like my man to be in charge instead," I turn away, hiding the blush blooming along my cheeks. I feel him lean down closer, his breath fanning down my dress.

"Keep calling me your man and I'll be whatever you like," he purrs. I feel outmatched now, slowly working my way towards the deep end. My cheeks hurt as I fight back a dorky smile and a silly giggle. Silas still finds out, cooing as he presses a kiss to my cheek.

"Alright, alright, stop," I push him away," let's see what games they have here." he chuckles as he straightens, pulling me to his side once more as we walk down the large path.

We see games varying from strength to skills, puzzles to sporty. Everyone jokes around each game, laughing and teasing one another as they all attempt to win the stuffed prizes. One game catches my eye, a milk jug and baseball skill test.

"how's your pitching," I ask him. He raises a brow in question before he too spots the game.

"I mean, I don't wanna brag," he jokes as we walk over.

I scoff," you don't wanna brag, hell must have frozen over." he snorts, tearing off a few tickets as he stops in front of the carnival worker.

"one ticket for one throw, three tickets for four," the tall teen says. Silas exchanges three tickets for four balls. He passes me two and we arrange ourselves to our own lane.

"Alright," Silas tosses the ball around in his hands," Watch a pro at work." I watch him reel back and launch the softball across the lane. The ball tings the top of the pyramid, flicking the milk jug off. As the jug rolls around on the floor I look to Silas.

"I think I'm watching the wrong guy if I'm supposed to be witnessing a pro," I shrug. He scowls at me, fiddling with the other ball in his hand.

"Yea, yea, shut up. Tis but a warmup," he shakes out his shoulders before squaring his stance. He launches the ball again completely missing the tower all together. I snort, biting back a snicker as he deflates.

"I think we have different definitions of pro," I chuckle. He snaps towards me, playfully sneering as he walks over.

"Alright, your turn, princess," he crosses his arms in a challenge. I smile at him, accepting his challenge with open arms. I walk up to the bar, setting one of the balls down. I toss the solo one around in my hands before tossing a look over my shoulder.

"You know in high school I use to be in sports," I look back to the restacked jugs," I did a few here and there but only one really stuck with me. I played softball for two years before I had to quit, and do you know what position I played?" before he could answer I launch the ball towards the tips of the bottom row. They explode outward, all tipping over. Two stay on the barrel while the rest tumble to the floor. With a cocky smile I turn to Silas, "I was the pitcher."

Silas looks between me and the milk jugs. He huffs in amusement, walking over towards me.

"Who knew confidence would look so sexy on you," he grabs at my hips," but not to rain on your parade or anything, but you are supposed to knock them all off the barrel." I scoff at him, hitting him in the chest.

"Yea, but I still get a small prize," I twist away from him," no need to be sour, I'll let you pick the toy."

We walk to the booth operator, Silas standing behind me. He grabs at me once more, leaning his chest against my back. He rests his chin on my shoulder, speaking near my ear.

"I'm not sour, just defeated. Also, I want the purple whale," he nuzzles against my head. I grin, feeling warm as I pet his head. The teenager grabs the small whale from the hooks, passing it to me before attending to the other players.

I hand the whale to Silas," Here you go, babe, I won it just for you." he grabs the whale, hugging it close.

"Thanks, baby. You spoil me too much," he nuzzles the toy with a teasing smile. My heart flutters with an unknown feeling as I watch him. It's nice seeing him be so human, to act like a typical person and not some unapproachable man slut. He catches me staring, turning on his charm once more.

"I’d say take a picture but I like having you look at me like that," he teases, cocky as ever. I roll my eyes, walking past him with no direction in mind.

We walk around the grounds playing all sorts of games. Neither of us wins many games, coming very close in a few of them. It helps our egos that the games are rigged, the fact fueling us to continue on. There is teasing and jokes, all in good fun. The night is going better than I expected, I didn't think a date night with Silas would be so juvenile. This is more of a date for teens or parents with their kids. I appreciate it more than he could ever know.

Our tickets dwindle quickly till we only have enough for one more game. We study the area, picking our final activity wisely. Silas taps my shoulder, pointing towards one across the way. He guides me towards it, holding my hand as we walk through the traffic of people. As we near I see a large pool of water covered in floating toy ducks.

"Lucky ducks," I ask him," it's not much of game, don't you think?"

He smiles to himself as he hands the tickets to the older woman," I think you will find that I'm quite skilled in games of luck."

"Confident as ever, but sure," I shrug. I watch him look at the spinning pool of ducks, thinking way too hard on this. He leans forward, ready to pluck the plastic duck out of the water. He pauses halfway, retreating in favor of looking to me.

"How about a wager," he offers. I watch him skeptically, feeling like his inner fuckboy is going to come out.

"I don't know, I've been warned about making deals with devils," I joke. He rolls his eyes.

"har, har. For real, a bet for if I find the lucky duck. You up for that kind of deal," he asks. I cross my arms, standing firm as I give him a once over.

"What's the wager," I ask in turn. I fully expect some sleazy demand that will make a mother blush. You can take the playboy out of the game but you can't take the game out of the playboy.

"If I find the duck, you owe me a favor," he smiles, looking away towards the pool," I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you before we leave." I startle at his request, not expecting something so simple. It almost feels like a waste of a bet.

"That's it," I ask. He looks to me almost offended.

"Yea, I never got to do that. All my old dates wanted to get home really quick so they don't bother with cutesy things like that. Listen, if you don't want to that fine, we can leave right after. I was just curious," he folds into himself, turning away. The insecurities shine brightly from him. It's really eye-opening.

It's hard to remember that Silas was missing a lot from his short-lived relationships. They were never intimate, getting down to business quickly. It's cute to see how much Silas wants that kind of thing. To cuddle up on some sketchy carnival ride and watch the lights below with a loved one. My heart flutters at the genuine sadness he is showing at my supposed rejection.

As he fiddles with his pockets I walk over. I grab at his face, turning him towards me, and kissing him as best as I can. He jumps at the action, pausing as he figures out what's happening. Then as quick as any incubus could be, he reacts. He holds me close as he expertly molds his lips to mine. I want to pull back and continue with whatever I was going to say but his tongue is teasing at my lips. Who am I to deny such a tempting request.

We split as we hear a pair of teenagers giggling to themselves. I pull away, chuckling as he keeps me close. His eyes remain closed as his jaw clenches. He seethes silently before he slowly peels his lids open. His black eyes slowly fade away as he stares down at me so stern. I can't help but cup his cheeks, petting him with my thumb.

"You know I want everything with you, right? Not just the sex or carnal pleasure you can give but the sweet stuff too," I smile kindly," I'm not like the others, I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you and laugh at how tiny everyone looks from so high up."

A loving smile spreads across his face," They look like ants from so high up."

"Yea, they do," I chuckle," now I need you to pick that lucky duck and win me a prize because so far I'm a far more talented date than you are." he snorts, loosening his hold on my waist. We split away, him turning to the pool and quickly pulling a duck from the water. Without turning it over he looks to me.

"What stuffed animal do you want," he asks. I look from him to the duck then back again. He seems so confident. I open my mouth to retort with some teasing comment but he stops me with a smirk. I squint at him, understanding the challenge. He knows he won. Instead, I look to the large toys lining the front of the booth.

"The Domo doll," I smile back at him. He nods, walking over to the booth worker. He tosses the duck to the man who turns it over and sighs.

"Any toy from the top row," the man grunts out. I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief.

We stand in line for the Ferris wheel, him holding his little whale and I hugging a large stuffed cartoon character. I catch his eyes, smiling widely at him as I hug the toy closer. We near the ride, a worker opening the swinging door to the carriage. I stuff my prize in before myself, Silas following behind. The worker closes the door along with the latch as Silas throws his arm over me.

The ride slowly takes us to the top, stopping as people below get on and off. "Did you have fun tonight," Silas asks. I look up to him, enjoying the sight of his hair ruffling in the breeze.

"yea," I snuggle into his chest," I did." he gives me a squeeze, kissing the top of my head.

"Good," he answers," I had fun too."

The ride stops at the very top, the view taking both of our attentions. The lights and people below make me feel whimsical. The cold air cools my heated cheeks and Silas warms me from the breeze. I find my attention shifting from the colorful sights below to the sweet man beside me. I stare up at him, watching him look out in the distance. A small smile tugs at the edge of his lips, a content sigh leaving his nose.

"I know I'm better than the view but you can look at me anytime compared to this," he turns to me. As our eyes meet everything stops. It feels so cliché but right as we lean towards each other till our noses brush against the other's.

"Silas," I mumble. Before I can say anymore he jumps to capture my lips. I choke on my breath, meeting him with as much eagerness as he gives. He slowly crowds me against the corner of the carriage, pressing his chest against mine as he attacks my lips. His tongue delves in, swirling with mine as a groan leaves my lips. Everything feels so amplified with him. The way his body heats my own, the way his hands pull my hips against his. I feel so hot despite being so cold. I want him, I want him bad.

"Come on guys, people are waiting," someone calls from behind us. Silas slowly pries his lips away from mine, sighing as his eyes open. His pitch-black eyes stare down into my own, promising so much with crotch throbbing appeal.

"My place," he asks with a cocky grin. I can't answer besides a nod.

The next few minutes feel like a blur as we race to the car and to his apartment. Traffic laws are ignored as all I can feel is his heated palm on my thigh. I don't know when we get to his place but all I know is his hard cock grinding against my clothed crotch. At some point we end up in his room, the soft blankets shock me out of a stupor. The seriousness of the situation clears my head.

Silas notices me stiffen, his lips against my neck leave as he looks down at me. He pets along my arms," Shh, it's alright. You want to go slower?"

"Y-yea," I answer, petting on his arms.

"I can do that," he kisses my forehead," we can go a little slower. Just let me tell you how tonight will go down." his tone is teasing. I find myself smiling, amused by his waiter sounding tone. Speaking like he is going to read the specials off the menu.

"Well, you’re a virgin, correct?" I nod," then you get the trifecta."

I scoff," The trifecta?"

"yea," he smirks," fingers, tongue, and cock." his tongue clicks on the final word, adding to the teasing. I fluster, turning away as I picture all this. In answer he brushes his nose against my neck, growling with interest. "now let's start with taking these clothes off."

The motion of removing another person's clothes feels just as intimate as anything I've ever experienced. He bares his chest before me, allowing me time to be distracted by such a sculpted torso. As I pet along his chest he lifts my dress up. His fingers touch at my underwear, I stiffen at the contact. The burning in my belly wars with the anxiety dwelling in my chest.

"It's ok, I got you," he purrs near my ear," keep touching me, I like having your delicate touch on my chest." I follow his demand, petting nervously up his chest as his fingers dive under my clothes. I buck into his hand, embarrassed immediately for doing so. He calms me by kissing my cheek. His fingers quickly delve between my folds, pressing where I need him most.

The sudden attention to my swollen clit brings my back to an arch. I press my clothed chest to his bare one. The rolling growl coming from him makes me whimper. His fingers swiftly glide over my nub, building me quicker than I ever have alone. He kisses and licks my neck, lathering me in attention. Before I can get used to the quick slides of his fingers he presses them down and inside me. His middle fingers squelch as they swiftly go in.

"Silas," I clench as his shoulders. His fingers begin to thrust in and out, petting along my walls with a strange filling feeling.

"Does it feel good," he asks, I nod," no, kitten, you need to use your words."

I open my mouth to answer but his thumb presses to my clit, massaging in short fast circles. I choke on my words, throwing my head back with a broken cry. His fingers cease their thrusting in favor of bouncing against a sweet spot.

"Does it feel good, I won't ask again," he scolds with a smirk.

"Y-yes," I whimper. He rewards me with quicker motions, basically throwing me to my peak. I claw at his shoulder as my body racks with shudders till I'm suspended over my end.

"Cum for me," he purrs near my ear," I want to see you cum for me." I cry out, arching away from him as he forces my body to its end. I clamp around his fingers, fluttering as I grind in his hand. I barely notice him watching me, too focused on my climax.

"So beautiful," I faintly hear him say.

I soon fall slack to the bed, dropping my arms from around his shoulders. His fingers squelch as they are removed from inside me. The wetness on his fingers trails over my thighs before he is removed from my underwear. I watch him lift his fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to clean them.

"Fuck," I whisper as he licks his palm. He smirks down at me as he twines his tongue around his ring finger.

"You taste divine, kitten. I can't wait to get a direct taste," he purrs. Those black eyes are all I can look at as he slides his hands under my dress.

He is tender as he removes my clothes, kissing up my stomach as he lifts my dress. As my bra is tossed to the side he tilts his head in admiration as he cups my breast. He fondles them for a moment, getting distracted by taking off my underwear.

I soon lay bare before him, feeling like a feast with the way he looks at me. He falls over me, framing me with his arms as he fists the blanket. I watch him lean forward, my lips part in preparation. I close my eyes, ready for his lips upon mine. Yet, instead of getting a kiss, I have the blanket below me ripped out from under me. I open my eyes in time to see him removing his pants. The blanket rests on his shoulder, splaying out behind him like a cape.

I watch him confused, momentarily looking at his crotch. I don't have enough time to admire his standing cock as he falls on his stomach. His hands grab at my thighs, spreading me as he scoots up.

"It's time for me to get a taste," he smirks. I sit back ready to watch him bring me to a swift orgasm like before. He surprises me by throwing the blanket over his head, blocking my view of him.

"what are you doing," I ask as I fist the sheets. I can feel his hands petting on my thighs, see the blanket shifting.

"I want you to close your eyes and feel me," he answers. His nose bumps my crotch, startling me. I clench at the sheets, conflicted on how this will play out.

His tongue flicks at the seams, only partially delving between my lips. He is slow in his explorations, teasing with simple touches. The feeling is completely new, completely different from any of my solo sessions. With the added benefit of not knowing what's going to happen. He works his way from the bottom to the top, drinking any and all I have to offer from the previous orgasm. The sensitive skin gives way to new, wonderful sensations. It's not overstimulated like I would assume but its…perfect. Hardly expect anything less from a sex demon I guess.

I relax, not climbing to unbearable levels of pleasure but sitting in a state of comforting arousal. His fingers brought me swiftly to an end, satisfying the craving while calming my nerves. I hum with a grin, carding my finger through my hair as my leg pets along his back. I feel his lazing lapping, delving inside with his own groans of enjoyment.

He startles me with a quick flat lick to my clit. My back arches as I hiss, not prepared for the shock to run up my stomach. He does it again, circling the tip of his tongue around then over it. The electric and warm feeling is brain-melting. I find myself grinding into his mouth to feel more, surprising myself with my eagerness. He delivers in full, bringing me to a swifter climax than his fingers did. I feel like a porn star with my cries as I clamp my thighs around his head. I barely hear his own cries of pleasure as I do.

As I come into my own he throws the blanket off his head, looking way too happy to have gone down on me. "ya feeling alright," he hugs my hips," not too tired yet right?" his smug grin would have made me angry any other time. To be fair, those other times he never earned it.

I reach down and run my fingers through his hair. I smile tiredly down at him and hum in answer. He rests his chin on my pelvis, tilting into my hand with closed eyes. This isn't what I expected at all. I imagined wild coupling with animalistic cries into the night. This is… strangely better. I can't imagine he has ever done this before. All his conquest have been weird kinky sex that- I wouldn't say bragged- he talked about at work. Over divulging in every detail to the point you could paint a solid picture of sweaty bodies and soaked sheets. But this is better, not what I expected, but what I needed.

"you are too skilled at this for your own good, your ego needs a break sometimes," I joke as I pap his cheek.

"well, since this 'skill' is being used to please my lady, I hardly think it could be that bad. Though hearing you cry out for only me may make my head swell. Actually, it has," he gets up on his hands and crawls up my body. My eyes fall directly on his hard cock. It takes me a moment to get his joke, by the time I do he is pressing kisses my neck.

I grab a fistful of his hair and pull him back," that was an awful joke." he laughs as I bring him down for a kiss.

"They can't all be award-winning, besides I heard you like my stupid jokes," he grins against my lips.

"I never said I was a smart woman," I chuckle.

"But you are," he kisses my cheek," you are smart," kisses my nose," funny," my brow," sexy," my eyelid," and best of all," corner of my mouth," you like me." I pull him into his next kiss, meeting his lips with mine. But damn he is right, I do like him.

"now are you ready for the main course," he gropes my hips. At the question, I feel his cock resting against my thigh. The nerves he worked hard to rest are cranking up again. I think on every story and video I have seen on losing your virginity. Thinking about the pain or the countless unsatisfied women. What if I don't like it? What if it hurts too bad? Too many questions float by.

As I get lost in my train of thought Silas cups my cheek. He turns me so all I can see is him. He looks between my eyes, his face focused and concerned. It’s a strange look for him, having never considered him to ever be concerned for anyone, let alone me.

"You know I won't hurt you, I don't think I could if I tried. I promised you this would all work out, I will make this good for you. Just talk with me, ok? Can you do that for me, love," he raises his brow in question. I look up at him, noticing every detail of his blue eyes.

"yea, I can do that," I answer. He smiles down at me, the feeling almost similar to when a child gets a cookie after being good. He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose, resting his head against mine with a content hum.

"Do you, Chloe, wish to be bounded to me from this point forward? To be my mate and lover till the day we expire," he asks with all seriousness," no pressure." he tries to smirk, to add humor to this but I can see the worry. It's almost humbling in a weird way. I reach up and cup his cheek, tilting my head with a smile.

"Make love to me, Silas, and be the first person I see tomorrow," I pet under his eye. His smile is blinding, his eyes light up with too much joy to be anything but heartwarming. He turns his head and kisses my palm before resting himself on his hand.

He adjusts himself so he rests at my entrance. The weight shooting anxiety up to my head. With a well-timed glance and encouraging smile from him, the small seed of anxiety is gone. He won't hurt me. He frames my head with his arms as he presses his tip in. my stomach clenches at the odd intrusion. Silas lowers his head and presses wet kisses to my cheek. I try to relax, focusing on his lips more than his cock. He shoves forward slowly. I can't think for a moment, only feeling this very new stuffing feeling. The smooth glide of his cock is surprisingly a welcome feeling. I expected sharp pains accompanied by a hard snap of his hips. Then again it's kind of dumb of me to assume he wouldn't be considerate and take his time. He has been nothing but patient with me.

"We doing alright," he asks without a strain to his voice. I open my mouth to answer but he takes the moment to slide the rest of the way in. I choke on my words and take to nodding instead. He chuckles, still peppering my face with gentle kisses. "you feel perfect my love," he praises," it's like I was made for this, for you. You fit around me so welcomingly." he pulls back before grinding himself back in. The build-up made this moment all the sweeter. He pulls out again then glides forward. He kept true to his word, he didn't hurt me. Very much the opposite, I think as my eyelids flutter.

His pace is slow, his kisses wet and warm. I could get used to this. I pet up his back, holding him close as I find myself meeting his unhurried thrust. An urge for him to do more is overwhelming but as I buck into him, he keeps his pace. I grow frustrated at this.

"faster," I sigh into his ear.

"there you go," he praises as he ups his tempo," I will do anything for you, just ask." our thighs clap lightly as we meet. I undulate my hips with each downfall, grinding myself into him. He grunts to my surprise, thrusting a tad faster as I buck. I like that sound, I need him to do it again. I let go and scratch at the nape of his neck, moaning and crying into his ear.

"Silas, oh fuck," I whine as I arch my back into him. He bites down onto my neck, growling as he does. I can't help but smirk to myself, loving the sound of him. "Silas, please. Your coc-," I stop myself, feeling embarrassed to even say the word. His thrust slow, I groan in disagreement.

"say it," he hisses near my ear.

"Please," I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. Begging him to go back to fucking me.

"Say it," he repeats. I whimper below him, not giving a damn at the moment how wonton I look. He lifts his head from my shoulder, looking down at me. The look on his face is my new favorite view. He looks as wrecked as I feel. Sweet Jesus.

"your co-cock," I spit out," I love it." he grins, picking up the pace again. Slamming into my hips with great vigor. I cry out, writhing beneath him.

"What do you like," he asks. I can't figure out how he can speak when I'm nearly at the peak of brain failure.

"so, hard. Just for me," I choke out," fucking, love your cock, want you- need you to cum in me. Please."

He hums," I will. Fill you to the brim, then when I do I'll fill you some more. Your cunt is mine, my beautiful mate. This cock is yours to ride whenever, cause only I can do this to you." he snaps his hips harder on the next thrust," only I get to see you this way. Only you get to bring me to this level of want. By god, I wanted to fuck you during dinner. Rip your panties down and take you in front of everyone," he rests his head against my head, watching me fall apart at his words. I whimper and moan without a care. My insides feel like they are on fire, nearly burning me as I near my end.

He watches me with rapt attention," Cum for me, Chloe. Let me feel you squeeze my cock, please, love, I need it." I cry out, stuttering as my body stiffens. He watches with a grin, fucking me through my climax. He grunts and groans as I flutter around him, begging him to reach his own end. I pant against the pillow as I watch him try to maintain his cool. Trying to prolong the experience for a second longer.

I tug on his hair," Cum for me, Silas. Please, I need to feel it, need to feel you." he gasps with a startled yelp. His eyes clenching close as he finally peaks. His hips buck wildly, clapping my thighs with his own. Silas shouts and whimpers as he falls apart. I feel his hot load shoot inside me, the sensation startling but welcomed.

"Chloe," he whines," fuck!" his body falls slack onto mine, his weight making it hard to breathe. I don't say anything, just pet his hair and listen to his labored breathing.

"Damn, I need a minute," he grunts as he shifts to the side. I move to sit up but he quickly grips my arms," hold on, I don't want to leave you just yet" the words send a warm feeling through my chest. It's oddly satisfying to hear that. I hum as I settle back against the bed.

"thank you," I find myself saying.

"don't thank me. In all honesty, I should be thanking you. I have been less than savory with you and it took me way too long to get my head out of my ass. You have been way too patient and forgiving with me. Thank you," he says into my shoulder, finishing it off with a kiss.

"I love you, Silas," I mumble against his cheek. I nuzzle my head against his, really feeling the effects of three orgasms.

He hums, pulling me closer," I love you too, Chloe." he finally pulls out and adjusts me in his arms. We both fall asleep in no time.

I wake the next morning to his beautiful face. We both smile, share a kiss, then go make breakfast together.

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

Sweet jesus, this was my white whale. i don’t know why it was so hard for me to finish this. i would write like 5 paragraphs and not touch it for weeks. it took me strapping down and forbidding myself from touching any other stories besides incomplete ones, even then i would skip this one. so i really hope y’all liked it.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #Enigma-IM #fluff #carnival #bonding

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lololil · 4 years ago

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Requested by @nachtumringt from this prompt list - the way you said “I love you”. I appreciate you greedy being, thank you for the request. I hope you’ll enjoy it. 🍃✨

2. With a hoarse voice under the blankets

Lucas doesn’t know when it became love. Maybe it always has been. He remembers seeing Eliott for the first time, a clumsy little boy carrying boxes into the house next door. The feeling in his belly - like infinite little stings - and the heat spreading through his tiny body were definitely something new.

He even asked his maman what it meant, afraid he might have had an allergic reaction, but she just smiled and kissed his forehead. “One day you’ll know, mon chérie.” But he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, it may have been warm and fuzzy, but it was prickling, urgent. “Now, don’t you want to go meet the new neighbors? Take them this.” She stuffed his short arms with a basket filled with fruits and some sweets. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go, of course he wished to see the boy again, but what if that weird feeling ate him up?

If only had he known...

The feeling did, in fact, eat him up. To the point each two of three thoughts in his head would be about Eliott - that’s the boy’s name.

And now, twelve years later, they are in the exact same position. Lucas observing him from his house, analyzing how his muscles contract differently with each movement, how the breeze makes his strands dance around, how his eyes shine even though the sun decided to stay hidden behind the dense clouds. Boxes are being carried, but this time from the house and into the car. Eliott’s car. The one he will drive away in first thing in the morning, away to college. Away from Lucas.

Funny thing is, he did find out what that feeling he felt so many years back was. But now he has only been left with his chest ripped open, his heart sore, imploding, bleeding.

Eliott’s eyes catch his and he can’t help but smile. His friend looks worried, lifting his shoulders with a clear question what is it. Lucas shakes his head and Eliott, as the stupidly perfect boy he is, starts running towards Lucas with a childish jog despite his huge limbs.

“What’s wrong?” Eliott asks, keeping his hands behind his back.

“Nothing! I was smiling!” He points to his own mouth and makes an exaggeratedly fake grin. “See?” Eliott huffs and takes one hand to Lucas’ hair, playing with it.

“Dumbass.”

“Yes, I guess we’ve established that that is my role in this relationship.” He points to both of them and something shines in Eliott’s eyes.

“I have something for you.” Lucas’ features brighten and he jumps excitedly. He was always incapable of feeling down around Eliott.

“What is it?” Eliott laughs and takes his hand from behind his back. Presenting Lucas with a stuffed raccoon. The raccoon. “What? Eliott, you can’t give me this. I already have my hedgehog.” And well it was kind of ridiculous, but they had bought them when they were younger, Lucas only agreed because Eliott had the most gorgeous smile on his face and he wanted it to last a bit longer.

“Yes, but I want you to have it. Please. So you can remember me when you look at it.” He looks taken aback, bashful, and it’s so honest and so sweet Lucas could kiss him. God, he wants to kiss him.

It’s not like I could spend a minute without thinking of you he almost says. “Ok. But only if you take my hedgehog.” Eliott smiles so angelically it’s hard to breathe.

“Ok.” He agrees and Lucas takes the stuffed animal giving it his all not to squeeze it. “You are cute.” It isn’t unusual for Eliott to say random stuff like this and Lucas never knows what to do. Obviously, his immediate response is always a heat accompanied by a deep crimson spreading through his features.

“Okay, please don’t. Come on, we still have a lot to do before you leave.” Eliott ruffles his hair once more and takes Lucas’ shoulder, leading them into the latter’s house.

***

Hours later, after spending the evening rewatching all their favorite movies, they are in Lucas’ bedroom, tucked under his covers, talking. This is one of the things Lucas loves the most, spending time next to Eliott talking about everything and nothing. Just existing next to him.

After they’ve settled in a comfortable silence, Eliott turns his body in Lucas’ direction and they stare at each other before Eliott starts talking.

“Do you remember how we used to read stories under the covers?” Lucas laughs.

“How could I forget.” Indeed, how could he. Eliott wiggles his eyebrows.

“So, wanna do it again? For old times sake?”

“For old times sake.” Lucas imitates him exaggeratedly. “Gosh, you are just a big baby and want excuses to read child books.” Excuses, just excuses. It’s what came to Lucas’ mind instead of running to get under the covers just to be closer to Eliott.

“I don’t see any kids' books around here. Do you? I mean, it is your bedroom, so if there were I guess that would make you the big baby.”

“Oh shut up and just get under the blankets.” And it’s beautiful, how Eliott beams with excitement. Just like a child.

“Ah, I’ll just get my phone, because I know how you get. Afraid of the dark and stuff.” At that, Lucas has no choice other than roll his eyes and tackle Eliott onto the mattress. Wrong choice, they end up close, really close, and Lucas has to strain himself not to join their lips. He quickly goes under the covers and Eliott follows after, turning his lantern on. “Excited, are we?” He teases, but Lucas is too entranced by the way the light reflects on Eliott’s features to respond. “For someone so opposed to the idea you sure got down here pretty fast.”

“Jesus, shut up!” Lucas says kicking him maybe a bit harder than necessary, making Eliott let out a high pitched squeal and they both burst out laughing. Their bodies squirm and it gets harder to breathe under all the blankets but none of them dare to resurface.

The laughter dies gradually, disappearing into a stuffed silence. Through the badly lit space, he can see Eliott. He seems lost in thoughts.

“Lucas, I’m scared.” He whispers, the light barely hitting his face, but Lucas can still see the deep worry in his eyes, how they are darker than usual, heavier. And how Lucas wants to touch him, take this feeling away, make that beautiful smile appear on Eliott’s face again. “I don’t want to lose you.” Eliott’s voice sounds broken and a shiny tear travels down his cheek, making a perfect trail to his mouth. Lucas follows its path with his thumb, drying it softly. Eliott’s skin is so warm under his hand.

“You could never lose me.” Eliott closes his eyes, creasing his eyebrows. More tears slide down his face. “It’s true.” Lucas can’t stand this, so he gets closer, until their noses touch. And Eliott opens his eyes, pupils blown. “You will never lose me.” They stare at each other, minutes spent looking at the galaxy that is Eliott’s eyes.

“Lucas.” His voice is only a tone louder than a whisper, a soft hoarse to it. He backs up a little, his hand traveling up to cup Lucas’ jaw. Eliott studies his face for a minute, eyes landing on each and every spot of Lucas’ features before they return to his eyes. “I love you.” All his thoughts get blurred, he can’t command his body to move, he can’t do anything except from widening his eyes in utter shock. He had wished to hear those words coming from Eliott’s mouth with that meaning countless times, but he never really expected it to happen.

Eliott must sense Lucas’ inability to form any coherent sound, so he lands a kiss on his cheek, it’s warm and sends a shiver down Lucas’ body. “I love you.” A croaky whisper against the skin there. His mouth travels to Lucas’ ear, warm lips caressing it. “I love you, Lucas.” He lets out with a warm puff and realigns their heads, trailing his thumb across Lucas’ lips and capturing the lower one. Lucas wants to bite it. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. Grave.

Lucas wants to scream yes, finally. But his brain is still short circuiting from the revelation, so he just joins their lips. It’s far better than he could have ever dreamt of. Warm like a summer breeze, but as refreshing as inspiring winter air. They move in perfect synchrony, pulling desperately at each other, their bodies touching completely. It’s like they have been doing this forever. Might as well have been.

Lucas has to part, words finally coming back to him.

“I love you, Eliott.” The boy smiles, dumbfounded. It’s a beautiful image and the duvet over their heads with the dim light makes it even more magical. “God, I love you. So much.” Eliott lets out a laugh, maybe a bit relieved, and pulls Lucas on top of him, their mouths join again, no sight in detaching.

***

The next day, when Eliott leaves, Lucas still feels like a part of him has been ripped. Like maybe a vital organ is missing. But at least now he knows what Eliott’s mouth tastes like, what it feels like to touch and be touched. And that, that is something nothing can take away.

And now, when everything seems too much, they can always go back under the blankets. Just the two of them. Stolen peace in the middle of chaos.

#it was nice #coming up with this #and sth i probably would have never written #so thank u for requesting it #and it is also kinda long #i didnt plan for it to be this long #but i just kept writing #my writing #elu fic #lucas x eliott #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury

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sakuwriteshere · 4 years ago

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Pretty Little Liar: Chapter 4

General warnings (for the whole story): Fluff, comedy, angst, sexual innuedos, roommates AU, Ketch is a douche

Beta reader: Rosaline 💖

Words count: 4235 words

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A/N: Thank you so much for the comments/rebblogs/likes! You’re the best! If you want to be tagged just send me an ask ;) And don’t forget, comments are loved! <3

_______________

Chapter 4:

The primary shock from learning that she’s now fake engaged is subsiding and leaving room for a new emotion. Is angry the right word? Y/N is not entirely sure. She’s mad, irritated maybe, she’s seeing red for sure. How could he do that to her? He was supposed to tell the truth, not create another bigger lie. Y/N wants to scream, to shout right in his face, she wants to punch him so hard. She can feel the rage boiling through her veins so hard that her whole body is shaking.

“Sweetheart, say something please. You’re scaring me.” The soft-touch of Dean’s fingers over her bare shoulders feels like an electric shock. Some people could say that it’s the spark that set fire to the powder.

“How-” Y/N raises her voice and stops right away as she remembers they’re not alone. She grabs his wrist and bends it slightly as she forces him to follow her in a secluded spot, smiling with satisfaction when she hears him hissing under the painful grip.

“How dare you? You were supposed to tell her the truth, Dean!” She is finally able to ask him, making sure her voice is low so no passers-by accidentally hear them.

“I know. I was going to tell her, I swear, but…” Dean shuts his eyes thigh and exhales deeply, the despair he’s feeling right now is clearly visible.

“She started to tell me how happy she was for us. How good you are to me and that she could easily see how in love we are. She told me she was proud of me, Y/N! I know my mom loves me but do you know how long I’ve been waiting for her to be really proud of me?”

Listening to him, Y/N feels that he’s sincere. What Mary thinks about her son is really important to Dean. Despite his tendencies to lie, he wants to be a good son.

“I understand but don’t you think you’re doing it the wrong way?” She says in a softer voice, trying another approach to help him see that what he is doing is wrong. “She’s proud of something that’s fake.” Unknowingly she cups his cheek, her cold fingers warming up instantly in contact with his skin.

“It doesn’t have to be fake.” Dean leans in her palm, greedy for any sort of physical contact. He knows telling her this won’t lead anywhere. Strangely while it’s easy to lie to his family, with Y/N he wants to be one hundred percent honest.

“Dean.” Just by the tone of her voice Dean knows she’s not thinking like him. “We barely know each other. Listen I’ll help you ok? Let’s just stay simple roommates and please, don’t play with my feelings.”

Roommates. It’s already better than what he was waiting for. He will stick with being roommates. Dean knows he’s not relationship material. There’s a reason he chooses the ‘love them, leave them’ lifestyle. It’s easier, it’s safer. He doesn’t need to fear another heartbreak that way. No feelings means no pain.

As Dean nods, his parents enter the house, spotting the fake couple right away.

“There you are! Don’t think you can disappear after such a big announcement!” John laughs, giving Dean a strong pat in the back before hugging Y/N in a bear hug. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Dean and Y/N say in sync, blushing slightly.

“Look at them, Mary. They’re acting shy now.” John laughs some more, pretty amused by their reaction.

Mary comes closer, enlacing John from behind and resting her chin on his shoulder, a fond smile curling her lips.

“You were worse the night you proposed to me, honey. I remember you being a total mess and getting drunk with my dad.”

Dean and Y/N chuckle at that while John clears his throat and shoves Mary weakly. Sam and Jessica coming in right behind them, the way their faces light up when they spot them means they’ve found who they’re looking for.

“You little shit, come here.” Sam claps his big hand on his older brother's shoulder while Jessica congrats and hugs Y/N.

“I’m so happy for the both of you, really. No wonder you couldn’t take your eyes off him earlier.” Jessica says softly into Y/N’s ear. “Now show me!” Jess says excitedly, holding Y/N’s left hand in both of her, her eyes searching for any engagement ring. Jessica’s huge smile drops as she notices that Y/N’s hand is nude of any ring.

“Where is the ring?”

Y/N pulls back her hand and crosses her arms, cocking her head as she gives Dean a tight smile.

“Yes, Dean. Explain to your family why there’s no ring.” She’s giving him another chance to tell the truth. It’s just the six of them, there is still an opportunity for Dean to fix this big mess.

“Er,” As all eyes are on him, a few pairs of them are more annoyed than others, Dean’s trying to think about what to say.

“To tell you the truth, I wasn’t prepared to ask her. It came out of the blue.” He says, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, nervously.

Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head slightly. They’re going to lie until they leave tomorrow. Well, so be it.

“Dean!” Jessica and Mary lament, visibly shocked by the lack of preparation the older Winchester son had.

“Proposing is a serious matter. You can’t just ask out of the blue! My poor, Y/N, I’m so sorry for my stupid son’s behavior.”

“It’s alright, Mary. It was a shock, honestly. I wasn’t expecting that...Anything but that.” Y/N rolls with the lie, there is nothing she can do about it now.

“I have to admit,” Sam interferes, a bit awkward with what he’s going to say. “I’m a bit surprised too. I mean, you’re together for what? Two or three months? Don’t you think it’s kind of sudden?”

“Oh it’s sudden, I agree. I still feel like I barely know your brother.” Y/N keeps on the conversation, sending Dean another meaningful glare.

Dean forces a laugh as he wraps an arm around Y/N’s waist, bringing their bodies closer. “Isn’t she lovely?” He clears his throat and becomes serious again. “I thought ‘why wait?’, you know? As I said before, you know when she’s the one.” For more effect, Dean squeezes her side and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

Mary and Jessica aw sweetly and Y/N hides her face into Dean’s chest. She really can’t bear to look at their faces.

***

The rest of the night is uneventful, fortunately. Y/N and Dean spend a few hours at the party, thanking people that congratulate them and even enjoy themselves at some point thanks to the warm food and alcohol. Their minds being a bit fuzzy, it easier for both of them to play along and act like a happy cute little couple and people let them be.

However, there is always the fact that they’re faking all of it, even if one of them easily forgets for a moment and let themselves think that maybe, something real and good can come out from all of this. Dancing slowly, in each other's arms, Y/N presses the side of her face against Dean’s firm chest and closes her eyes. She’s humming quietly to the piano rendition of ‘Just the way you are’ by Bruno Mars.

“Are you drunk?” Dean chuckles, his hold on Y/N’s hands tightening as he kisses the crown of her head.

Y/N lifts her head and pressed her chin against his chest instead, giggling and humming some more. It’s her drunk way to confirm to him that, yes, she’s drunk. Now they are more rocking on the balls of their feet than properly dancing. Dean’s heart rate accelerates as he lets himself think that maybe it’s the right moment. Slowly he lowers his face, his palms sweating awfully as their faces are getting closer.

“Don’t.” It’s only a murmur, but he’s close enough to hear it perfectly.

Two big orbs are watching his every move. “I’m not drunk enough to let someone I can’t trust to kiss me.”

Damn it, it hurts. Dean puckers his lips and nods in understanding. At least he knows there is nothing to expect anymore. He tries to rationalize, tells himself that it’s because of the current situation. He shouldn’t let an insignificant fake crush affect him this much.

Once they're back at their apartment, they’ll become roommates again. Just like they agreed.

That night, they are both using their own part of the bed, extremely cautious about not invading each others’ personal space. Saying that they didn’t sleep well that night is an understatement.

***

The next morning, Y/N can’t get on the road fast enough. She’s very happy and honored to spend some quality time with the Winchesters but keeping a straight face the more lies are surrounding her, she thinks she’s going to suffocate. After a quick breakfast, it’s finally time to say goodbye.

“It was such a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” Mary says, stopping on her little porch with Y/N while Dean puts the bags in the trunk.

“It was a pleasure to me too, Mary.” It’s the truth. If there’s one thing Y/N will cherish from this incredible weekend it’s her encounter with the Winchesters. They are a wonderful family and Y/N knows that it will be hard to be hated by them when they’ll learn that Dean and her had broken up. “I’ll miss you.”

“Oh sweety, don’t worry. We’ll see you on ThanksGiving, right?” She gives her a huge smile before hugging her as a goodbye.

Y/N only nods because she can’t lie to her verbally. Dean joins them, giving her an occasion to break this painful moment.

“Drive safe, ok? And call me when you’re home.” Mary uses her motherly tone as she hugs her son.

“Will do. Love you, mom.” Dean assures her, kissing her cheek as a goodbye.

“Love you, Dean. You too Y/N.” She waves and Y/N’s steps accelerate.

With the back of her head resting against the headrest, Y/N can finally relax. She exhales heavily and closes her eyes now that she feels safe inside the car. She’s been on edge the whole week-end, always scared of saying something that would blow up all their lies. And yet, she has never felt so free and alive at the same time. She can’t deny she had a lot of fun, particularly with Dean.

“It went pretty well, right? What were you scared of?” Dean asks her as he slides in the driver seat.

She gives him a deadpan face before choosing to use the silent treatment for the whole ride. He doesn’t seem to realize what he had done. Lying to his whole family, playing with their trust as if it meant nothing. When she had fun with him, and even during more intimate moments, she had thought that maybe something could bloom between them. Not necessarily a romantic relationship but some friendship at least. Is it even possible? Any kind of relationship is based on trust before everything. She has no proof he’s not lying to her too after all.

***

“Home, sweet home,” Dean announces as he opens their apartment’s door. Deposing the bags in a corner near the door, Dean walks into the living room, reviewing the few letters he received during the weekend. Nothing important, great.

“What do you want to eat?” He asks, stretching his back after the long drive. Despite the silent treatment, he had talked all the way. It was a one-sided conversation but he didn’t care. If she was trying to annoy him, then he would do the same just doing exactly the opposite of her. “I was thinking about pizza, maybe?”

The loud bang of a door slamming shut is his only answer. She just went into her bedroom without a warning but made sure he had heard it. Yep. They’re back to simple roommates.

Later that night, Dean’s eating pizza on the couch. Alone. He had tried to knock at Y/N’s door, telling her the pizza was delivered but he only met silence once again. So here he is, sitting alone on his couch, watching an old rerun of the Three Stooges movie. Dean doesn’t understand why she’s so cold towards him out of the blue. They had great moments together, learning a bit more about each other so why does all of this disappear in a flick?

As he hears her door opening, Dean uses all his willing power to keep his eyes fixed on the TV. Who knows what wrong he can do without even knowing it? A simple wrong look in her direction and she’s ready to hide in her room again. He has trouble with his breathing as he tries to be as silent as possible, his jaw moving so slowly as he’s munching on his pizza.

Her sock feet are sliding over the wooden floor until she stands between Dean and the TV, blocking his view and forcing him to look at her. Her breath is caught in her throat when Dean’s vibrant green eyes fell on her, watching her warily.

“Here.” She says in a low voice, handing Dean the old tee-shirt he gave her so she can use it as a pajamas during the weekend. “I packed it by accident.”

Dean’s eyes are flicking between the tee-shirt and her face. He puts the rest of his pizza in his mouth, as a way to remain silent and rubs his hands before swallowing.

“You can keep it.” He says in a soft voice, still afraid he would piss her again. When she looks at him questionably he adds. “Consider it’s a thank you gift. I didn’t even thank you for what you’ve done.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” She shakes her head, dismissive, and starts to leave again.

Dean’s quick to grab her wrist, keeping her with him. “I really meant it, Y/N. And I’m not talking about the lies. I had a lot of fun with you, it’s been a long time actually. So for that, thank you.”

Once again she can see he’s sincere, the way his eyes shine, it’s captivating. People say that you can see the truth in people’s eyes. Maybe the legend is real? Maybe he has never lied to her?

“Thank you.” She accepts the gift, giving him a tiny smile. A smile he’s happy to give back. “Good night, Dean.”

“Good night, Sweetheart.” He whispers, letting her go, reluctantly.

At least they’re back on speaking terms, so it’s a good sign, right?

***

The next morning, a delicious smell tickles Y/N’s nostrils. She can recognize this smell anywhere. Without wasting another second, she opens her door and inhales sharply, the sweet scent of waffle waking up her fuzzy brain a bit more.

“You made waffles?” She asks, taking a seat behind the kitchen counter while Dean’s busy with the waffle pan.

“Yep!” He says proudly, popping the ‘p’. He noticed how much she loved waffles during the week-end, eating more than usual. He’s ready to do anything to make her happy. The huge smile she gives him is the best reward.

They eat in a comfortable silence, the tension from the day before has completely vanished.

“I was thinking,” She starts to say, popping a piece of waffle in her mouth at the same time.

“Never a good thing.” Dean mocked, sipping on his coffee.

She gives him a tight-lipped smile as she munches on her waffle. “Seriously, I need to find a new place to live.”

Dean chokes on his coffee, spilling the hot liquid all around him, burning the top of his hand in the process. “Son of a-”

“Are you alright?” Y/N is quick to jump from her seat, at his side in a second, checking if he had hurt himself.

“Yeah.” Dean dismisses, using the hand towel next to him to dry his hands. “What about you? Why do you want to move out?”

“It’s not like I want to move out. It’s just I have to.” She corrects him as she helps him to clear the mess around them.

“But why?” Dean is completely upset with the idea of her leaving him.

She gives him a sad look. “Think about it for a minute. There’s no way we can still live together after breaking up. We’re supposed to get married but decided to break up and stay living together? It’s stupid.”

Dean’s mouth opens, forming a perfect ‘o’ shape but no sound comes out. He hadn’t thought about that. He needs to find something, anything before she leaves him for good.

“We can think about an excuse.”

“And it would be another lie. You promised, Dean. No more lies after this weekend. It’s alright, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll find a new place quickly.” She reassures him, taking the soiled towel from his hands and heading for the bathroom to put it in the washing machine.

“I’ll tell her the truth!” He shouts without thinking and she stops dead.

“What?” She turns her face slowly so she can look at him.

“I-if I tell her the truth, there’s no need for you to move out, right?” He shrugs, his brain is burning with all the different images of her leaving.

“I guess.” She agrees, thoughtful.

“Then I’ll tell her. She- she texted me yesterday night.” He thought, remembering that once again they forgot to give Mary her damn passport. “She’s coming in a few days for her stupid passport.”

Y/N comes closer, a strange glint in her eyes, looking at him as if he told her he personally knew Santa Claus.

“You’re really going to tell her the truth?” She asks so softly, still not believing it.

Dean nods, his eyes roaming over her face. She’s so cute when she’s looking at him like that.

“For you, I’ll do anything.” He admits and it’s the honest truth.

“Thank you, Dean! You’re the best!” She throws herself in his arms, truly happy that she doesn’t have to move out, because secretly she likes living here and she was sad thinking that she has to leave Dean.

Dean’s arms hold her tight and he nuzzles his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply. This is the exact moment Dean realizes that it’s more than a simple crush. It’s happening so fast, it hurts so hard, it feels so right.

He’s totally and definitely screwed.

***

Luck has been on his side. By the middle of the week, Mary called, apologizing that something came up and she can’t come to see him this week. Dean is over the moon after such great news. If his mother is postponing, it means he doesn’t have to break her heart by telling her the truth, yet.

“Dean? I’m home.” Y/N calling him as she enters the apartment after her shift at the coffee shop.

“Hey.” He greets her, ending a business phone call. “How was your day?”

She lets her body fall heavily on the couch, groaning as she massages her neck.

“As usual.” She says and winces, twisting her neck from left to right.

“What’s wrong?” Dean stands behind the couch, looking over.

“I took inventory today, I think I twisted a nerve in my neck or something.”

“Alright, let me see.” Dean sits next to her on the couch, motioning with his hand for her to turn around. She refuses at first, leaning on the opposite side refusing to let him touch her.

“I’ve been told that I’m quite good with my hands, Sweetheart.” He smiles, manhandling her carefully so she’s back to him. Gently he pushes the hair covering her neck, on the side.

“Is it from one of your numerous conquests?” She asks playfully and Dean smirks.

“Are you jealous?”

“Pff! No!” She says quickly and she’s happy he’s behind her so he doesn’t see the embarrassment on her face.

The room falls silent as Dean’s fingers massage her tender skin. She has to admit that he is pretty skilled. Her head lowers slowly as she relaxes under his expert fingers. Humming her appreciation from time to time.

“Oh my god, yes right there, Dean.” She moans when he touches a particular painful spot.

Dean licks his lips and tries to remain focused but hearing her say his name in that kind of voice, it does things to him. The next minutes are pure torture for him while she’s having the time of her life. The worst in all of this, is that she doesn’t even realize what she’s doing to him, does she?

“Here you go.” Dean pats her shoulders twice, signifying that they're done.

“What are we eating tonight? Pizza? Chinese? Your homemade burgers maybe?” She asks as she gets comfortable on the couch again. Dean is trying his best to move as little as possible because he can feel he has a boner.

“Um… Your choice, I need to finish replying to a few emails first. Sorry.” He says, picking his laptop from the coffee table and drops it on his lap, hiding his little problem in the process. Sometimes he surprises himself how much of a genius he is.

“Ok, let me take care of it! I chose what’s for dinner. You pick the movie for tonight.” She offers, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

As he works on a few emails, just like he told her, Dean can’t help himself but be glad with how much their relationship has evolved within just a few days. They weren’t as close and lovey-dovey as they were at his parents’ house but they weren’t just regular roommates anymore either. They’re starting to become, dare he say it, friends. Friends are good. Being friends means more contact, more funny moments, and maybe something more. He knows it’s stupid to hope for more but he hasn’t called on of his lady friends since they came back. And for him, it means something.

“The food is coming in thirty minutes. I picked Chinese.” She says falling down next to him.

Dean only hums in agreement as his fingers fly over the keyboard.

“M. Ketch came in, today.” She tells him vaguely.

The clicking on the keyboard stops abruptly at the mention of Ketch. While his eyes are still fixed on the screen in front of him, Dean takes a deep breath and licks his lips. “And?”

She shrugs and frowns slightly. “And nothing.”

“What does that mean?” He turns his head, asking for clarification. Nothing is good but he needs more.

This time she pouts, crossing one leg over the other and sinks a bit more into the couch, crossing her arms in the process.

“Well, he came and ordered his usual drink. Then left. So as I said: nothing.”

Dean nods, thoughtfully before pushing his laptop on the side and resting his forearms on his knees as he leans forwards.

“Well, something is clearly bothering you, Sweetheart. So what is it?”

Her eyes roll in her head so hard that Dean thinks they might stay stuck.

“It’s the nothing that is bothering me.” She admits, refusing to look at him.

“I’m sorry but I told you that Ketch isn’t a good man. He’s-”

“It’s not about him. It’s about me, Dean!” She explains, finally telling him what is on her mind.

“Usually I’m excited and happy when I see him. I don’t care if he’s flirting with me or not, I’m still a melting mess when he leaves, you know?” She explains, missing the angry roll of his eyes. “But today...there was nothing. I smiled because that’s my job and I served him like I do with any customer. There was just nothing.”

Oh… Oh! Dean’s trying his hardest to show no emotion at all. Finally, dear God! Finally, she has realized how much of a dick Ketch is! At least, Dean doesn’t have to worry about her being with this bastard anymore.

“It means he wasn’t the right one. That’s it. Nothing to worry about.” It’s so easy to find a line so cliché but it works its magic every time.

“Yeah, well I wonder when the right one will come.” She retorts back, apparently it’s not the first time she’s hearing it.

“Sometimes they’re right in front of your eyes and you don’t even know,” Dean adds, chancing a glance at her, realizing that the sentence fits him perfectly.

She chuckles and cocks her head. “Do you have more easy lines like these?”

Dean chuckles as well and leans on the couch again, one arm resting over the top of the couch.

“I’ve got plenty of them. I can recite all of them while we eat the dessert. I got a B&J pot in the freezer. Pecan nuts and vanilla.” He offers, smirking while wiggling his eyebrows seductively.

She laughs heartily and leans on him, her head nestled in the crook of his neck.

“Thanks, Dean. You’re really the best.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He murmurs before he presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

Pour Toujours tags: @drakelover78, @akshi8278

PLL tags: @eliwinchester99, @paiswhite, @vicmc624, @metalfangirl

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #female!reader #roommates au #spn fanfiction #series #pll series #fake dating

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inyournightmares97 · 6 years ago

Text

My Youth (Chapter 9)

Broken and miserable, Park Jinyoung returns to his hometown to learn that no matter how hard he falls, there are still people who think he’s a hero.

Warnings: Angst, slow build, maybe some language. (Please don’t ask when I’ll update. Wait until the series is finished to read if you’re impatient.)

Word Count: 6.5k+

(Can’t put links to the other parts here, please check my Masterlist/the reblog for the Prologue and previous chapters)

When you finally awoke in the strange bedroom, it was bright outside and you had a hangover.

Your mind was fuzzy and you were relieved that Mrs. Park was organized and caring enough to always keep extra toiletries in the guest bathroom. You brushed your teeth and tried to make yourself look halfway presentable before you walked downstairs. Mrs. Park was setting breakfast on the dining table. She beamed when she saw you.

“Good morning, dear! Jinyoung told me that you spent the night here. Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” you lied, stifling a yawn. You really hadn’t. You had tossed and turned in bed all night thinking about Jinyoung and his hints at affection for you before finally falling into an exhausted and fitful slumber at dawn. You glanced around and spotted Mr. Park watching television in the living room. “Is everyone else still in bed?”

Mrs. Park shook her head. “No, they’re all up. Jaebum and Jinyoung went out to Jaebum’s car to collect some things and poor Yugyeom is driving away the reporters. There are more of them today.”

You frowned. The reporters were going to become a serious problem if Jinyoung kept refusing to issue a public statement or give them an interview. They would only grow more determined and desperate to get him to talk. You wondered if you should try and convince him to just sit down for one interview so that they would relax with the harassment.

Mrs. Park was struggling with the breakfast plates and you rushed to take them out of her hands. You were setting them on the table when Jaebum and Jinyoung entered the house with two large boxes.

“-you’re honestly lucky you got such a good deal,” Jaebum was saying. “When you need to sell real estate at such short notice then you often have to compromise on the value. But your apartment was in such a prime location that there were plenty of people ready to take it for instant cash.”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “People would kill for a view of the Han River, huh?”

“Yeah. You never told me what you want to do about your cars, though. I can have them shipped over here if you want.”

Jinyoung set down one of the heavy boxes he was carrying and rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “Maybe leave them in the garage for now. I’d look stupid driving those luxury cars around this town. But I can’t bring myself to sell them just yet.”

“Think about it and let me know, I know a guy in Seoul that would take them for a good price.”

You finished setting the breakfast table and then sauntered over to them, curious about what was in the boxes. You peeked into one. It seemed to contain an odd mismatch of books, clothing and other small belongings.

“What’s this?” you wondered.

Jaebum smiled at you. “Just some of Jinyoung’s stuff I thought he would want to keep before he sold the flat and everything in it. Did you sleep okay last night?” he asked you knowingly.

You flushed. Why did everyone keep asking you that?

“I slept fine,” you mumbled before turning to Jinyoung. He had been staring at you but he dropped his eyes to the floor as soon as you looked at him. “Did you really sell your apartment in Seoul? You’re so positive that you’re not going back there?”

Jinyoung rubbed the back of his neck. “Definitely not to that apartment. It's down the road from the GOT Group Headquarters,” he replied awkwardly before giving you a small smile. “I got a pretty awesome price for it, though. Maybe I should invest in some farmland.”

Jaebum scoffed. “I can’t see you running a farm.”

“Obviously I’d employ people to do the work for me. It’s not like I’m going to muck the stables myself-”

“Maybe you should, it would teach you a little humility,” Jaebum scolded him before turning to the fully spread breakfast table. His eyes brightened at the sight of all the food. “Wow, I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive back after I eat all that. Can we start digging in?”

You smiled. “Mrs. Park just went to make the coffee. Where’s Yugyeom? I set out a plate for him, too.”

Jinyoung looked a little worried as he glanced back out of the window. “He seems to be having a hard time with the reporters. There are twice as many out there today. He had to call the station for backup. He might be a while.”

You went to the front door and peeked out of the house to see if you could spot him. The street outside was deserted (probably since Yugyeom had forced the reporters to stay away from the Parks’ home) but you could see Yugyeom walking towards the house while looking exhausted. You felt bad for the poor man. He’d had to spend all night on the couch while drunk and then deal with the reporters first thing in the morning.

“Yugyeom!” you greeted. “Doing okay?”

He gave you a slightly grim, tired smile. “Not so much. Seems like there’s a reason there are more of them today. Where’s Jinyoung-hyung?”

“Inside.”

Yugyeom pushed past you and entered the house before extracting a newspaper from inside his jacket. He walked straight over to Jinyoung, who was taking his first sip of coffee, and shoved it in his face. “Hyung, you might want to see this. This is why the reporters are losing their minds today.”

“Huh?”

“It’s today’s paper. Page 3.”

Jinyoung flipped over to the page Yugyeom was talking about. His eyebrows furrowed as he quickly scanned the article and then turned white. Jaebum snatched the paper from Jinyoung.

“Fuck,” Jinyoung muttered.

“What sort of next level bullshit is this?” Jaebum demanded. Unable to control your curiosity, you hurried over to him and tried to peek over his broad shoulders at the article. The first sentence was so absurd that it took you a few moments for you to understand what it was saying.

Ex-CEO of GOT Group, Park Jinyoung to become the new heir to Lee Industries? Inside sources claim that Park Jinyoung may be getting ready to tie the knot with the daughter of business tycoon Lee and take over his empire; could this have been Park’s plan all along?

“What the fuck?” you mumbled.

“Can they even do this? Isn’t this just blatantly spreading false information?” Jinyoung demanded. He pointed at the newspaper angrily. “I haven’t said a word to Lee or anyone related to him in over a year! How dare they spread the idea that I’m going to marry his daughter and work for him? I broke off that engagement long ago!”

You felt faint.

Jaebum folded up the newspaper and frowned. “It’s a pressure tactic. He obviously thinks that if he makes a big media deal out of it and then approaches you with the offer, you’ll feel more pressured to say yes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he contacts you before the day is over.”

Jinyoung snatched the newspaper and crumpled it, his hands shaking. “He should have contacted me first, the greedy little bastard-”

“He wanted you to see that accepting his offer could make it look like you left GOT Group for something better, and not like you got fired,” Jaebum pointed out. He gave Jinyoung a reluctant smile. “We could sue him for spreading false information but the article is pretty carefully worded as speculation. Besides, it doesn’t do any harm to you. Let’s not react too much for now. We should finish breakfast.”

Yugyeom smiled hesitantly. “Are you okay, hyung?”

Jinyoung’s fists were clenched. “You guys eat. I’m going to go upstairs for a bit.”

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

You weren’t sure what to think. You tried to eat the breakfast that Mrs. Park had made so lovingly, but the delicious food would barely go down your throat. Accepting his offer could make it look more like you left GOT Group for something better and less like you got fired. Jaebum’s words were ringing in your mind.

Wasn’t he right?

Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity for Jinyoung to save face and do the work he loved? He had lost his company but he hadn’t lost his skill or reputation for having built up an entire empire from the ground. A huge family conglomerate like the Lees would be delighted to capture an industry name like Park Jinyoung and make him a part of their family and business.

Besides, hadn’t Jinyoung admitted that the only reason he broke off the engagement was because Lee had expected him to dissolve his own company? Jinyoung didn’t have a company to lose now, so…

You felt sick. The thought of Jinyoung marrying a beautiful chaebol heiress and returning to his fancy world in the business industry was horrifying. The thought of his wedding featuring in the magazines and seeing him arm-in-arm with a beautiful woman that smiled dazzlingly at the camera made you want to kill something. It made you jealous. It made you feel small and pathetic and miserable.

What were you thinking? Jinyoung’s league was different.

His life was different.

You were nothing in that world of glamour and riches and beauty.

You stood up abruptly. “I, uh… I’m done eating. I’ll take a tray up to Jinyoung since he doesn’t seem to want to come down to breakfast.”

Mrs. Park blinked at you. “Of course. Thank you, darling.”

Jaebum gave you an odd look as he watched you fix a tray for Jinyoung but he said nothing. You took the time to calm yourself down. Jinyoung’s life decisions were his life decisions. You had no say in them. You shouldn’t have any say in them. He should do what makes him happy during a time like this and as his friend, you would only support him. You made a hot mug of coffee and set it on the tray before carefully carrying it upstairs.

You knocked on Jinyoung’s door.

“Jinyoung? I brought you some breakfast.”

His voice was muffled. “Come in.”

You entered his bedroom carefully. Jinyoung’s room looked no different to how it had looked back when he had been in high school; queen-sized bed with dark blue sheets, an organized desk with a lamp and rack of books above it and this little telescope that he’d set up near the window in the tenth grade when you’d been doing a unit about space.

“Are you okay?” you asked him gently. Jinyoung was sitting cross-legged on the bed and he greeted you with a hesitant smile. He took the tray you handed him and placed it on the bedside table with a sigh.

“You didn’t have to bring me breakfast,” he muttered.

“You had a lot to drink last night. You should eat.”

He nodded and took a sip of the coffee quietly. You sat down on the edge of the bed and clasped your hands in your lap. You weren’t sure what to say to Jinyoung. Perhaps you shouldn’t say anything. But he noticed you staring at him and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

You cleared your throat. “Have you considered just sitting down with some of the reporters for an interview?” you asked hesitantly. “We could set up a small press conference in the school auditorium after school hours. I’m sure Yugyeom and the other police officers would be willing to help out to make sure none of the reporters get aggressive. Maybe if you gave a statement, it would help make things in town easier and stop people from spreading things that aren’t true.”

Jinyoung’s face fell. He set his coffee back down on the bedside table and sighed.

“I know, I just…”

“What’s the problem? Are you scared of what they’ll think?”

“I’m scared of what they’ll ask,” Jinyoung admitted quietly. He took a deep breath. “They can ask me about what happened with GOT Group. I’m ready to talk about that. But their questions won’t stop there. They’ll ask me what my plans for the future are, what I’m going to do next. Am I going to sue GOT Group? Am I going to set up a rival company? Am i going to do something completely different? I don’t have an answer.”

You blinked at him. “You can always refuse to answer questions like that-”

Jinyoung gave you a soft smile. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re too different from me. You’ve always been happy where you are, you’ve always lived in the moment. I’m not like that.” Jinyoung looked at you and his dark eyes were burning with emotion. “Since I was a child, I’ve always had a clear goal. Every single moment of my life I’ve known what I wanted and I’ve dedicated myself towards achieving it. But now all of a sudden, I feel lost. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what to do. I don’t… feel like myself.”

You smiled. “You always were happiest when you were achieving something.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung mumbled.

“So maybe you should go back. Start over again, make new goals. Set up another company. Or… or even go work for the Lee’s. If keeping busy is what you need to do to feel like yourself-”

“I’m not so sure I want to be myself,” Jinyoung admitted quietly.

“What does that mean?”

Jinyoung looked up at you. He had a soft smile on his lips; one that seemed almost vulnerable and helpless. “I did a lot of stupid things while I was being myself. I made a lot of stupid decisions. The last few years of my life were the worst and it’s entirely my fault. I distanced my family, I distanced you and I hurt a lot of people. I let my priorities get messed up. So maybe I haven’t been living the best life. Maybe this part of me that always wants to achieve something and be on the move needs to be told to shut up. Maybe I don’t know how to make myself happy.”

You stared at him.

“Are you happy now?” you wondered.

“I’m happier when I live like you,” Jinyoung admitted quietly. “Maybe a life like yours is the right way to live. Maybe I should stop chasing after things and just appreciate where I am. Maybe I should be grateful for everything I have and just settle down here. You did it. You wanted to do it. You’re happy.”

You clenched your fists.

“I’m not happy.”

Jinyoung blinked. “What?”

“Did I tell you I was happy?” you demanded. You couldn’t believe he was sitting here and assuming that living in this small town was some sort of shortcut to happiness. You hadn’t wanted to live like this. You hadn’t chosen to. This life had been your only choice. “To want something more than what you have, greed, aspirations… that’s all basic human nature, Jinyoung. Denying your dreams doesn’t make you happy. Settling for what you already have doesn’t make you happy. It makes you miserable because you spend every single day wondering what could have been if you had just tried.”

“I don’t…” Jinyoung looked startled. “I don’t understand.”

“Living like me won’t make you happy. Living like me doesn’t even make me happy, I never wanted to be where I am now,” you told him. Your hands were trembling. “Don’t do this. Don’t stay here when you have the opportunity to get out and do what you want to be doing.”

Jinyoung stared at you. “You like this place. You like your job. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You had never admitted this to anyone before. It had taken you a long time to admit it to yourself, but you couldn’t stay quiet now. Not when Jinyoung was trying to model his life after the life you had always hated.

“It’s the only thing I could do,” you mumbled.

Jinyoung looked shocked. “What?”

“My mother couldn’t afford to send me to Seoul to study, Jinyoung. She was already drowning in debt. We were living from paycheck to paycheck. You might not have known this because your mother wouldn’t have told you about my family’s financial problems, but…” you took a deep, shuddering breath and blinked back your tears. You hated thinking about this. You hated admitting how helpless you had felt. “There was no way for me to do anything but this. I needed to go to the local college and I needed to study a course that would allow me to work part-time to support myself and my mother.”

Jinyoung was staring at you, eyes wide. “You didn’t want to be a teacher.”

“I wanted to go to medical school in Seoul. I wanted to become a pediatrician. I even brought home the applications to a few colleges before I realized the reality of my situation,” you whispered.

“Why didn’t you say anything-” he demanded furiously.

“Say what? And to whom?” you cut him off. Your voice was trembling. “I was ashamed. I didn’t want to be the girl who couldn’t afford to do what everyone else was doing. I didn’t want to pity myself. I decided that the only way I would be able to hold my head high was if I convinced myself that this was what I wanted to be doing. It made me feel better about my life. That was just how I dealt with it.”

Jinyoung stared at you for a long moment. When you looked up at him, you could see that his lower lip was trembling.

“You should have told me,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You would have told my mother. It would have broken her heart.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this right now,” Jinyoung snapped. You could hear the anger in his voice and he suddenly leapt off the bed. His gaze burned through you. “I cannot believe that you can sit in front of me and tell me now that you were lying to me the entire time. I thought you were happy. I left you here ten years ago thinking that was what I had to do to make you happy and now you’re telling me that was a misunderstanding?”

You felt tears coming to your eyes. “I’m sorry-”

“I walked away from you that day on the bridge so you could live the life you wanted to live,” Jinyoung hissed. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Do you know how difficult that decision was for me? Do you know how much it broke my heart to think that I could never make you happy? All I had to do was fucking take you to Seoul with me, wasn’t it? I asked you over and over, I tried to convince you so many times that studying there would be amazing-”

“I know,” you croaked.

“-and every single time, you told me with a straight face that you didn’t want any of that! You told me you wanted to sit here in this stupid town and get married and have kids. Fuck. Fuck that. It made me miserable that I couldn’t give that to you. Do you know how much I suffered? Do you really think your mother was convinced? She used to call me all the time and ask if you were telling the truth and like an idiot, I thought she was the weird one for not believing you.”

You didn’t know what to say. You felt small and pathetic. Jinyoung was right. Your lies and your denial had hurt him. They were the reason he had walked away ten years ago and never looked back. They were the reason you were both here now. Alone, and unhappy.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Your throat had closed up. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that this way, nobody would get hurt except me.”

Jinyoung’s eyes softened as he looked at you.

“God,” he whispered. “God, you must have been miserable.”

You nodded silently, warm tears streaming down your cheeks.

“And you never told anyone?”

You shook your head.

Jinyoung was silent for a long moment. He stepped closer to you and suddenly pulled you to your feet before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You let yourself melt into Jinyoung’s warm embrace. His arms encircled you and he stroked your hair softly while you sobbed into his shoulder.

Jinyoung was right. You had tried to make everyone happy but your lies had only made everything worse. You, your mother, Jinyoung… nobody had benefited from your deception.

“I-I was just a teenager,” you mumbled into Jinyoung’s sweater. Your throat was choked up. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I just didn’t want to see my Mom working so hard and-and I didn’t want her to feel like she wasn’t doing enough for me because she was-”

Jinyoung stroked your hair softly. “I know,” he whispered.

“And-and I wanted to tell you, so many times, but I was afraid you would tell my mother and there was nothing you could do about it. It wasn’t like… I mean, it wasn’t like you had the money to lend me yourself, your own parents saved up for years so you could go to the university you wanted.”

“I know,” Jinyoung whispered. He rested his cheek against your hair gently. “I know.”

“So it-it seemed like the only way to be happy, really, and I kept telling myself that I was…” you paused, struggling to get the words out. “T-that I was just being selfish and that Seoul wasn’t that great anyway and that I could do just fine here, but… but…”

Jinyoung closed his eyes and sighed.

“It’s okay. I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We both made stupid decisions,” Jinyoung mumbled. His hand gently stroked your back in a comforting gesture as you sniffled. “It’s not like I knew what I was doing. You shouldn’t have had to be that responsible at that age. You shouldn’t have had to bear that burden, you shouldn’t have been put in that position.”

You slowly pulled back and looked up at him. Jinyoung’s eyes were looking down at yours softly and you could see your pain reflected in them. The pain of knowing what could have been, the pain of knowing that all your combined suffering had achieved nothing in the end.

“Jinyoung…” you whispered.

There was a sharp knock on the bedroom door. You stepped back from Jinyoung and he looked equally startled as you heard Jaebum’s gruff voice through the bedroom door.

“Hey! Jinyoung, I’m gonna take off. I have to get back to Seoul by evening. You gonna come down and see me off?” he demanded. You hurried to wipe your tears away with your sleeve, worried that Jaebum might chose to open the door and step inside.

“Yeah, I’m coming, I’ll meet you downstairs!” Jinyoung yelled back.

You heard the sound of Jaebum’s footsteps disappearing. Jinyoung was looking down at you, his eyes soft and reluctant. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I should go see him off,” Jinyoung mumbled.

You nodded, sniffling. You probably looked a mess. “Y-yeah, you should.”

Jinyoung stared at you for a moment before stepping closer and cupping your face with his hands. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead; a soft, lingering kiss that made your chest explode with warmth. You could still feel his lips on your skin when he pulled away and looked down at you gently.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready,” he told you.

Jinyoung gave you one last, longing look before leaving the room quickly.

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

You probably should have gone home but Yugyeom and Mr. Park were watching some Sunday morning television marathons in the living room and they convinced you to stay for a few episodes. You noticed the soft smile Jinyoung gave you when succumbed to their insistence and sat beside him on the sofa.

You didn’t want to leave Jinyoung, somehow.

You wanted him near you.

You joked around with Yugyeom and laughed at the absurd game shows that were playing on the television. Jinyoung’s gaze was constantly on you and it made you feel both flustered and warm. It felt new to have his attention on you. It felt new to think that he cared about you. It felt new to think that even after ten years, knowing that he had lost a chance with you hurt him.

It made you feel important to be the center of Park Jinyoung’s attention.

Mrs. Park was delighted to hear that you and Yugyeom were staying for lunch. The house had never felt so lively before, she pointed out, and you could tell that having company made her happy. You helped Mrs. Park in the kitchen and listened to her gush about how nice it was that Jinyoung seemed to be smiling a lot more these days. She was happier than she had been in years, and you knew that it was all because Jinyoung was around.

“Oh dear, those reporters seem to be trickling back,” Mrs. Park muttered as she chopped the vegetables. She had a view of the street from the kitchen window and you peeked over her shoulder to see that a number of them were hovering around the front porch again. Some of the reporters’ cars were parked on the street even though Yugyeom had told them firmly that they could not park there. You were about to go into the living room to alert the young officer when you saw another car pull up.

An expensive, luxury car.

It stopped right in front of the house and a man in uniform got out of the driver’s seat. He hurried to open the passenger door, revealing a beautiful young woman wearing an expensive dress. Her fancy clothing and jewelry stood out awkwardly in the modest street, but you only saw them for a second before she was surrounded and swamped by the reporters. They began yelling things at her and snapping pictures with their enormous cameras.

Well, shit.

“Yugyeom!” you yelled out, rushing into the living room. “Yugyeom, I think you need to go outside!”

Yugyeom rushed out of the front door and began to yell at the reporters to move out of the way and stop harassing the young woman. You felt your heartbeat thud nervously as you watched Yugyeom take her arm and escort her to the front door while shoving the reporters away. The young woman looked frazzled but she clung onto Yugyeom and made it safely inside of the house. Yugyeom slammed the front door shut.

There was an awkward silence.

The young woman took a deep breath, plastered a polite smile on her face and bowed to you all courteously.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lee Jin-ah.”

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

You wondered if it was possible for a woman to be so beautiful or graceful.

Everything about Lee Jin-ah made you feel small and worthless. Not only was she beautiful, she had a soft and gentle voice and she spoke with the utmost politeness. You could only watch in miserable silence as she carefully greeted both Mr. and Mrs. Park and thanked a red-faced Yugyeom for helping her with the reporters.

God, she was perfect.

No wonder Jinyoung almost married this girl.

Jinyoung was silent from the moment Jin-ah entered. He didn’t say a word and only stared at her with his lips pressed together tightly. He watched with sharp eyes as his mother welcomed the girl into the living room and then frowned when Jin-ah finally turned to him nervously and admitted that she had come to speak with him because she couldn't contact him by phone.

“Let’s talk upstairs,” Jinyoung said shortly. He glanced at his mother. “We’ll be back in a bit, Mom.”

Mrs. Park flushed and nodded. “Oh, of course. Don’t take too long. It’s already past lunchtime. I’ll set out a plate, of course your friend must stay and have lunch with us…”

Jin-ah blushed and thanked her before silently following a grim-faced Jinyoung up the stairs. You felt your stomach clench in discomfort as you sat back down on the couch and Mr. Park resumed the television. Your palms were sweating and you nearly jumped when Yugyeom came and sat on the couch beside you.

“Noona,” he whispered.

You flinched. “What the hell, Yugyeom-”

Yugyeom placed a finger over his lips and pointed at Mr. Park, who was sitting in his armchair and watching the television on loud volume. He was a little hard of hearing. “Noona, let’s go upstairs and eavesdrop.”

Your eyes widened. “Yugyeom, no.”

“Why not?” he whined. “Noona, I’m just dying of curiosity right now. Don’t you want to know what they’re talking about? Do you think she’s proposing to him? What if they decide to get married?”

You felt sick. “It’s not right.”

“Noona…”

You glared at him, heartbeat thudding. “We’ll get caught-”

“We won’t, I’m a police officer!”

“I doubt your police badge gives you the right to eavesdrop on people’s private conversations in their own homes, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Yugyeom frowned. “Well, I’m going. You can come with me or stay here.”

Ugh.

“I’m coming,” you mumbled.

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

It was awkward to be standing outside Jinyoung’s bedroom door and eavesdropping with your ears up against the wood, but Yugyeom’s cheeky smile made you feel a little better.

The flimsy wooden door did little to hide the voices of the people inside.

“-could your father really think it was okay to publish an article like that without even saying a word to me? Do I look like an idiot to you? Do you think because I don’t have a PR Manager anymore, he can kick me around as he pleases?” Jinyoung was asking angrily.

Jin-ah sounded tired. “You know that’s not why. He wanted to prove to you that this wedding could be used to get the media on your side again. A few well-placed articles and we can get people to believe that your exit from GOT Group was voluntary and that you were planning to default to Lee Industries all along.”

Jinyoung frowned. “The media isn’t my problem.”

“What is your problem?” Jin-ah wondered. She sighed. “Jinyoung. They kicked you out and shamed you. Don’t you want revenge?”

“Of course I want revenge,” Jinyoung muttered.

“So come and talk to my father. He says he’ll help you. You need a strong conglomerate behind you if you want to target GOT Group and bring them down. You have the inside knowledge of the company’s wrongdoings and we have the resources,” Jin-ah pointed out. “Father’s been talking about this constantly since he heard about your dismissal. You know how upset he was when you walked out last time.”

Jinyoung gritted his teeth. “That’s because he wanted me to give up everything I had.”

“You don’t have anything now. Your company is gone. It’s no longer yours. You lost it already, Jinyoung, your career can only improve from this,” Jin-ah pointed out.

Jinyoung was silent for a long moment.

“Maybe my career isn’t the only thing I want to improve. Maybe I want to improve my life.”

“By sitting here? In this small town?” Jin-ah wondered.

“My parents are here.”

“Bring them to Seoul. We’ll buy them a house. You can visit them every weekend,” Jin-ah said without hesitation. She suddenly sounded desperate and you could hear the insistence in her voice. “Please, Jinyoung. You promised you would help me last time and you backed out. Don’t you owe me?”

Jinyoung frowned. “You didn’t tell me last time that I’d have to give up my company.”

“I didn’t know either. But you left me in the lurch.”

Jinyoung frowned. “No. You lied to me. I understand that all your other options for marriage were older men who were disgusting and that you didn't want to marry them. I feel bad for you, Jin-ah, but not enough to give up everything I care about. Not enough to marry you out of pity. We both know you’re only here because I’m the only man your Father approves of that isn’t ten years older than you and vastly overweight.”

“But this time, you only gain from the deal,” Jin-ah pleaded. “Please. If you say no to this then Father will marry me off to that old guy who owns the car companies. He’s been divorced twice already. I can’t live with him. What do you even have to lose? You have no career. What do you even care about that you’d have to give up because of this?”

Jinyoung took a deep breath. “You wouldn’t understand, there are other things than my career at stake, just… give me some time to think about this.”

“Really?” Jin-ah’s voice perked up. “Really, you’ll think about it?”

“Yes. Now, let’s go downstairs-”

Yugyeom tapped you urgently on the shoulder and gestured toward the stairs. You nodded, hurrying after him as you both fled down the stairs in order to retake your seats in the living room. You were both out of breath but you managed to calm down and casually turn to the television seconds before Jinyoung and Jin-ah came down.

Jinyoung gave you a searching look and then turned to the kitchen.

“Mom, is lunch ready?”

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

Lunch was uncomfortable.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, but Jin-ah seemed to love chattering away. She told Mrs. Park brightly all about her fashion degree and the work she did for some designer label. Then she asked Yugyeom a number of questions about what being a police officer was like. Yugyeom seemed flustered at the attention from such a beautiful girl, but he responded to her questions eagerly. She even asked you about your work; but your simple responses were not encouraging and she soon turned her attention back to Yugyeom.

Jinyoung kept looking at you throughout the meal. You had to avoid his gaze because you were terrified that your jealousy and insecurity at the sudden appearance of this beautiful, charming woman would become visible to him.

Once the meal was over, Jin-ah turned to Mrs. Park sweetly.

“Mrs. Park, is it alright if I stay the night here? It’s such a long drive back to Seoul and there aren’t any proper hotels in this small town. I’d feel much safer staying here…” she asked politely.

Mrs. Park blinked. “Oh. Of course, dear, you can stay in the guest room and return in the morning.” The older woman glanced at you. “Unless you’re thinking of staying the night again…”

You shook your head quickly. You didn’t want to stay here in his awkward environment for one second longer than you needed to. “Oh no, not at all. I have work tomorrow so I’m going to head home now, actually. I hope you have a nice stay here, Jin-ah.”

Jin-ah beamed at you. “Thank you, unnie! Can I call you unnie?”

You sighed. “Yes, go ahead.”

“Thank you!”

You helped Mrs. Park clean up after lunch before apologizing and announcing that you needed to leave. You felt tired and exhausted and suddenly, you wanted nothing more than to go back to your own bed and take a long nap to forget about everything that had happened today. Yugyeom offered to drop you back to your apartment in your vehicle and you went upstairs to get the handbag that you’d left in the guest bedroom.

Just as you entered the room, you heard the door swing open behind you. Jinyoung had followed you inside and he was leaning against the closed door, arms folded across his chest as he looked at you.

“Hey,” he said.

You felt your heartbeat thud at the dark expression in Jinyoung’s eyes. You picked up your bag and blinked at him.

“Uh, hey.”

“What do you think?”

You felt your throat close up. You stepped closer to the door but Jinyoung was blocking it effectively, leaning against it while he watched you with an intense gaze. You swallowed nervously and blinked at him.

“What do I think about what?” you asked.

“Don’t play games with me. I heard you and Yugyeom running down the stairs while I was talking to Jin-ah. I know you were listening to our conversation. What do you think about what she said? Do you think I should be accepting her offer?”

Your head spun. What could you say to that? What right did you even have to weigh in on such a huge life decision of Jinyoung’s? Part of you wanted to scream and tell him that it seemed like a horrible idea, that it didn’t seem like either of them loved each other and that he should stay here with you. But it was such an absurd thing to say that the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth.

“It… it seems like a win-win situation,” you mumbled.

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. “Win-win?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t see anything that anyone has to lose by her offer? You can’t think of anything that I would have to lose?” he demanded. He suddenly stepped closer to you. “You think I should marry her and run her family's companies?”

You took a deep breath and looked up at him. “Maybe. You said it yourself, Jinyoung. You probably don’t want to stay here in this small town. There’s no career left for you here. If she’s offering you a way to return to the career you love and a way to get revenge on the people who ruined you, then maybe in the long run you should go and take it. You’re not the kind of person who can be living a simple life in this small town. You’re the kind of person who needs to chase after his dreams.”

Jinyoung frowned. “What do you know about my dreams?”

You bit your lip. “I-I don’t. You asked me what I thought, and I’m telling you what I think. It seems like a good way to pick up your career again.”

“But the cost?” he demanded. His eyes were narrowed. “Marrying a woman I don’t love?”

“P-plenty of people do it. And Jin-ah seems like a catch.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” you asked. “This has nothing to do with ne.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You opened your mouth to speak but you were cut off by somebody rattling the doorknob. You could hear Yugyeom on the other side.

“What the-is this locked? Noona, I have the car ready outside! You’ll have to come quick because I only just got rid of the reporters,” Yugyeom called out. Jinyoung turned around and yanked the door open to reveal Yugyeom’s face. He looked a little startled. “Oh, hyung, I didn’t know you were in here…”

You smiled. “I’m coming, Yugyeom.”

“Okay…”

You turned to leave as Yugyeom hurried down the stairs but Jinyoung gently grasped your arm. When you turned to him, Jinyoung’s eyes had become soft and his gaze suddenly looked vulnerable.

“Answer my question,” he insisted. “Does this really have nothing to do with you?”

You bit your lip. “No. No, it doesn’t.”

You pulled away from him and hurried down the stairs after Yugyeom, but not before you heard the last thing that Jinyoung said to you.

“I guess you still never learn.”

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

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tarithenurse · 6 years ago

Text

On my mind, in my soul - 9

Prompt: Got three things to go by on this from Anon: “Ghost rule” (cover/translation by jubyphonic), Asgard, a necklace. Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Cussing, angsting, illness, mention of death etc., family quarrels. All in all a lovely, uplifting chapter once again :P A/N: Well...I caved in and that means you get the full chapter now...let’s see how long before the requirements are met for the next. If you LIKE what you read: please reblog! Or comment? Or send me hugs? (Puppies are also accepted)

The value of a life

I guess I really can’t dodge it this time No law to pardon my crime, no clemency for this evil of mine

Of course, Heimdal had warned the All-Father. A host of Einherjar were standing ready with cuffs, chains, and golden spears the moment Loki’s feet touched solid ground. They’d been rougher than strictly necessary, shoving him to his knees before binding him with magically sealed restraints. Thor couldn’t do much to prevent it unless he wanted to make the situation worse, and besides, the brothers had promised to remain passive throughout this endeavour. Yes, breaching banishment was bound to have certain consequences.

Shoved forwards with both weapons and hard gazes at his back, Loki’s reminded of a similar scene, but this time he makes sure not to smile or talk out of turn, waiting instead till he’s right at the bottom stairs of the throne before sinking to his knees without being ordered to. Maybe it’s the sight of the fallen prince, or perhaps the fact that having Loki around always meant trouble for some one, either way a murmur ripples through the audience that has managed to gather even with the short warning.

An echoing boom of metal against stone silences the room. “Loki Laufeyson,” Odin’s voice holds a tired curiosity, “why have you returned from your banishment, knowing that the penalty might be death?”

As long as another life will be spared. Finally lifting his head to face the man he once thought of as his father, Loki feels the old resentment begging to roil inside once more. Everyone’s waiting for it, expecting him to lash out verbally with that silver tongue which has won him friends and enemies alike. Even Thor, standing next to the throne, is keeping a watchful eye on the slender figure prone on the floor.

“I accept any consequences of my transgression, All-Father,” the words taste like bile but have to be spoken clearly, “and you may do with me as you see fit…I only wish to save an innocent life.”

A few snorts of disbelief can be heard through the grand hall, still Loki keeps quiet. Green eyes locked with one of pale blue, watering with age and seeking compensation through the aid of watchful spies. Seconds pass, long as a lifetime, and already the prodigal son fears it’ll be too late. A glance to Thor is noticed and scrutinized by their father.

“So you’ve found compassion for the Midgardians now? Hmmm?” Odin’s eyepatch wobbles as the white brows lift. “Tell me then…who do you intend to save?”

“Admittedly only one for now.” Even to himself, the plea sounds hollow. “A maiden whom I unwittingly put in harms way when trying to achieve the opposite.”

“One?”

“One.”

Loki’s knees are starting to ache against the stones, tempting him to reposition ever so slightly under the scrutinizing gaze of the King. He’s had worse, endured crippling pain far beyond the discomfort he now feels, and so he remains motionless save for the eyes that return the stare unwaveringly.

“Thor?” Odin commands without shifting his attention.

The God of Thunder was not one for convoluted speech when growing up in Asgard. Although he studied as a prince should under the careful eyes of Frigga and the many tutors, the more physically inclined boy preferred to put his intellect to different uses than poring over books more than absolutely necessary. Loki used to be annoyed by it, but today…today he rejoices with each simple sentence the brother utters, detailing the events since the phone call to Stark from Loki. Even as he bluntly describes the medical situation of the woman who’s nothing but a stranger to anyone else.

Silence fills the hall when Thor has finished. Odin himself shows a sliver of surprise and has very few questions for the broad warrior before sinking into thought. Make up your mind, old man! Not a word passes Loki’s lips. He can’t risk angering the All-Father, the ruler of Asgard who protects the realm and its people viciously from outsider.

“You bargain your freedom and life in exchange for hers?”

“Yes.” No waver.

A low hum escapes Odin while he thinks. “And…even if there is nothing to be done to save her, you will accept your sentence?”

Not before she’s safe. “Yes.”

Although “no” is what I meant, I gave a “yes” and lied yet again

… Reader’s PoV …

The entire world is moving, tipping and spinning around you without having any impact on your stability on the slippery ice. Faintly, you remember the idea that wherever you are isn’t the real world, but how can that be? Already, you can sense the beckoning carried on the icy winds, the urge driving you on instead of letting the stickiness take you down into the dark. Hasn’t that always been the life you’ve known?

Deciding not to care about the odd jostling of the world, you carry on slowly. As you navigate through patches of greedy tendrils, you feel how they hold on tighter…pull harder. It even looks as though more of them appears and begin to invade the relative safety of the ice. No! They can’t hold you back, the musn’t. Because somewhere at the end of the path is a golden chain set with small stones and it’s calling for you.

… Loki’s PoV …

Odin doesn’t allow Loki to be there when [Y/N] arrives, and it’s only Thor’s shameless pleading (mixed with a bit of logic) that secures a corner view in the Healing Chambers.

By Mirmir’s head! Every curse and worrying comment is bit back in fear that the silver tongue will land Loki in trouble…or the Midgardian. It’s evident how taxing the journey has been. Each breath is laboured now, rattling the normally gorgeous chest, yet nothing seems to come off it: face sickly pale; prominent, dark veins marring the soft skin; and a fever that rages through her body with a force that fills the entire room. One glance at Thor is enough to solidify the concern.

…

Time passes slowly, each minute reflected in the glittery particles of the Soul Forge’s projection. Even the physicians, Idunn and Eir, wear grim expressions as they work their skill and magic to battle the poison eating the patient from within. Loki can barely make sense of their words, too lost in thought and consumed by a disconcerting worry that he dares not voice yet. Just let her live.

“No, we can’t, there’s not enough.” Idunn’s brows are pulled down to the nose as she examines the data hovering above the patient.

The other healer doesn’t relent. “Maybe some o–“

“Who?!”

The one word’s sharp enough for a guard to wince, his spear brushing uncomfortably near Loki who’s trying to get an idea of what the women are arguing about. A donor? Well, the options are limited, and whatever [Y/N] is in need of has to be something any healthy Asgardian must apparently possess since the physicians are discussing it at all.

“I volunteer.” Five spears realign at Loki’s calm voice.

Stalking past the exam table, Idunn takes in the ex-prince’s form properly for the first time since his arrival. “Clearly, despite your intellect, you’ve not realized that we’re referring to a full blood transfusion,” she explains curtly, “replacing all of the girl’s blood.”

“Do it.”

Brown eyes are boring into cold blues. “We’d have to verify if you’re a match.”

“Do it.”

“Using just one donor could be lethal…for the donor.”

There’s no hesitation. No waver in the answer. “Do it.”

“Brother!” For all of Loki’s sharp senses, he’d forgotten the blond, bumbling idiot of a Thunder God still was there. “You cannot do this!”

“Why not?!” Again the guard flinches. “Tell me, why I shouldn’t! My freedom, maybe my life, is forfeit either way! Let it at least be used for one good deed before your father does whatever he pleases with it.”

Thrusting his hands forward, manacles chafing against the skin, Loki presents the vulnerable insides of the elbows the best he can.

…

Perhaps this isn’t so bad after all. The darkness of the marring, prominent veins is already lessening, leaving Loki to believe that he can see a healthy luster returning to [Y/N]’s delicate skin even from where he’s lying in a neighbouring Soul Forge.

“I must admit,” Odin’s voice shifts the adoptive son’s attention, “that your action moves me.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

Maybe Thor wants to say something, his mouth opening and closing as he rolls slowly on his feet. Swaying. Lulling. Must keep my eyes open. It’s getting difficult already. A tiredness is invading Loki’s body as the pumps work to withdraw blood from both subjects, only pumping it into one afterwards. This is not how the Asgardian had expected it to end, complacent and filled with regrets.

“If this should be your last deed, my son, then I will remember you more fondly than I once feared I would have to.” The voice is distant, with a cotton-like quality to it as it seeps through the dimming lights.

Go ahead and judge away, I chose to be this kind of person anyway

… Reader’s PoV …

The dream’s fading, becoming nothing more than a fuzzy memory of desperation and a longing for something that you don’t even recall anymore save for a glittery eye of a tiger. It had been so important to reach it, but did you actually succeed in the end? Whatever it is that had been so vital, it’s not in your hand as you try to move it, fingers fumbling over soft silk and lungs filling wonderfully with clean air scented with honey. It’s like breathing life, and a tiny content sigh escapes you.

Soothing but insistent, your senses come back for full power, and despite the soft bed, it’s hard to find comfort in your body and mind: one is tingling as though every part has been asleep and is now waking with pins and needles, the other is flooded with fragmented recollections of a hand-over gone wrong. Very wrong.

You push yourself upwards against a wooden headrest with a groan, eyes blinking to stop the room around you from swimming away in a haze, and you spot a figure sitting in a chair. Broad shoulders hunched forward and elbows resting on the knees to leave the hands hanging loosely folded.

“So…you wake,” is all Thor says before getting up and leaving, ignoring your stunned reaction.

…

You’ve been bathed and dressed in a pretty yet antique-ish dress. Even fed. But no one has bothered explain to you what has happened and why you’re here in Asgard. That’s where I am, right? Following a guard in golden armour, you’re being led through impressive halls with statues, murals, and tapestries the likes of which you’ve only seen it the best museums and private collections. It’s not until the enormous double doors open that you realize you’re on your way to the throne to meet the king. Odin.

All the curiosity you’d felt is twisted into a nausea-inducing anxiety as you pass pillars and people lining the length of the room, all standing silently watching. At each carved stone reaching high above are more guards, but it’s the silently moving shadows at the walls that prevent you from breathing further than the top of the sternum and recognising Thor next to the throne does nothing to compensate. Where’s Loki? He’s got to be around somewhere, but you can’t find him and all too soon you’re at the dais and have to kneel with eyes fixed on the floor.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N].” Where does Odin know my name from? “It is imperative that you understand how seldom it is for an outsider to be brought here…let alone a simple Midgardian.” There’s a poorly veiled insult there, but this is not the time to pick a fight and you choose to nod instead. “Still…here you are.” Was that a sigh? “My adoptive son Loki came and pleaded for the best physicians to treat you in the hope your life could be saved. He came…although he had been banished from this realm…”

The king continues for much longer than you find necessary, especially focusing on the infinite benevolence of him as a king and the Asgardian prowess on pretty much every single field of science, history, and diplomacy. The few stolen glances reveal nothing to be out of the ordinary, and you presume this must be the normal way for the aging monarch to address anyone in court.

Eventually, Odin reaches the end and waits for you to express your gratitude for the lifesaving treatment he has extended to you, a pathetic human (not his actual words, but same point). Of course, you sing his and Asgard’s praises. To begin with.

“Your majesty, if I may…” You try to sound confident as you meet his eyes. Eye. “Where’s Loki? I’d like to thank him.”

Tell them who I really am, Since everything I know’s about to meet its end

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years ago

Text

You’re My Best Friend

(Ooh, you make me live, now honey!)

In response to this prompt from this list, sent a very long time ago now, but after giving in and asking my beta for help (the lovely @stupidsatsuma!) I was finally able to come up with something.

Rated PG-13 for occasional bad language.

AO3

---

Ellie trudged up the path to Hardy’s with a yawn, thinking of the lovely dream from which her alarm had thrown her. The specifics were fuzzy now, but she had a vague, calming sense of… peace. Of being on vacation with someone she loved, of no responsibilities other than choosing where to go for meals.

A stark contrast to the chaos getting the boys up for school had been; she’d ultimately had to leave them to her father’s care to make it to Hardy’s on time.

She was so lost in her thoughts that it wasn’t until she was on the patio she realized that the sliding glass door was open, and what was more, Hardy was talking.

How could he already know I’m here? she wondered, only to reach the doorway and find him with his back to her, speaking to an empty room. He was already dressed, ready to go but for his suit jacket, and stood with one hand on his hip, the other in front of him where he could peer down at the writing.

It was a pose she was greatly familiar with, though usually a room full of detectives stared back at him, rather than his furniture.

“Who can tell me what the most important job is, for police?”

Ellie leaned silently against the door frame, watching him watch the empty room.

“You are aware that walls aren’t people, right?” she finally commented, when he didn’t continue. “They can’t actually answer.”

“Ellie!” Hardy spun around, eyes widening as he caught sight of her. “Bloody- is it already seven? Sorry, just a moment.” He folded the paper up and tucked it away, shrugging on his jacket and hurrying to the desk for his briefcase. “Can you…” he asked vaguely, waving towards the kitchen, and she fetched the two prepared travel thermoses full of tea, pausing to remove the lid from ‘hers’ and take a few, greedy gulps, sighing softly as even just the smell of the caffeine started to work on her.

“Let’s go,” he barked, gesturing her towards the door with his trademark impatient scowl, and she moved, rolling her eyes and replacing the lid.

“All right, all right, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Ellie sighed, eyeing him speculatively as he locked the door and they started back down to her car. “Can I ask-”

“No.”

They traveled an hour out of town towards Bristol for what turned out to be a five minute interview. Back in the car and on the way back to town, Hardy spent rather longer than usual complaining about the wasted time.

“All I’m saying is-”

“What were you doing?” Ellie interrupted around minute twenty-three, unable to take another second of his bitching.

“What?”

She took her eyes off the road long enough to give him her best don’t be thick with me glare – bringing the day’s total up to every significant male in her life. And it’s only half eight. “What were you doing when I found you at your house?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does if you’ve gone barmy. Honestly, why were you asking your walls what our most important job is?”

Hardy grumbled for a moment, sinking deeper in his seat, but she waited him out. “I was practicing,” he finally said quietly.

“Practicing?”

“For tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ellie ran quickly through their upcoming work events, and came up with nothing other than a few budget meetings and a semi-annual sexual harassment seminar where she would have to listen for days afterwards as he ranted about stupid people unable to keep their hands to themselves. “What’s tomorrow?”

His exasperated gaze burned a hole in the side of her head, making her flush. “The thing, tomorrow,” he said vaguely. “For Fred’s class.”

“What?” She nearly slammed on the breaks in surprise, just managing to keep the car under control. “What thing for Fred’s class? What are you talking about?!”

“You don’t know?” Hardy sounded surprised, but she barely noticed, frantically trying to recall anything related to Hardy, Fred, or Fred’s class. “Sorry, Miller, I thought you did.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ellie said through gritted teeth, failing miserably at keeping the hurt feelings away. “Explain. Now.”

He shifted next to her, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke carefully. “Last week, when Fred came to visit you at lunch, he wanted to talk to me, remember?”

He waited for her to nod, which she did, only vaguely remembering the instance. For reasons unknown to her, her younger son had taken a shining to her partner, and found him absolutely hilarious.

“Anyway, what he wanted was… his class is doing a career day, and he’s asked me to come in and speak. I was practicing my spiel when you arrived this morning.”

A lay-by was only a few yards ahead and she pulled in hard, having to stop and put the car into park before closing her eyes and leaning her forehead on the wheel, fighting back nausea and horror. Why didn’t he ask me? her heart cried, aching, as she tried not to cry in front of Hardy. Why didn’t he want me?

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hardy said softly, soothingly, resting his palm between her shoulder blades. He didn’t rub, let his hand just sit there, but it helped to anchor her. “He couldn’t ask a family member, Miller, otherwise he’d have asked you – he told me so. It’s all right.”

“What?” To her horror she sniffled, but he didn’t comment except to hand her an honest-to-God handkerchief.

“He wanted to ask you but it couldn’t be a relative,” he repeated. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell you about it at all, but that’s why he didn’t ask.”

Ellie chanced a peek at him, only to find the most caring, sympathetic expression she’d ever seen on him – possibly even more so than It was Joe. “Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped without heat, pressing her lips tightly together.

“Sorry.” His expression didn’t change, though he removed his hand, and she gave an involuntary moue of regret at the loss of the warm touch.

“Not your fault, I suppose.”

“That’s a change.” His lips twitched, and she reluctantly smiled back.

Clearing her throat she straightened up, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to ease some tension there. “Erm, sorry about…” she gestured, leaving the sentence unfinished, but as always, he knew what she meant.

“S’all right. D’you want me to drive back?”

Ellie gave two slow blinks in surprise, jaw dropping. “That’s the first time you’ve ever offered that!”

“Well?”

“Oh, don’t be stupid,” she scoffed, putting the car in drive and checking her mirrors. “The day I let you drive will be the day the world ends.”

She pulled out, snickering, and after a moment, Hardy groaned. “I told you, I have no relation to that bloody actor,” he insisted, as he had often had to do. “Besides, you’re hardly driving a Bentley.”

“I note you’re not denying being a demon,” Ellie teased, but he only huffed, crossing his arms and sitting back.

To keep from getting lost in her thoughts she turned on the radio, and it only took two notes to recognize the song. For the second time in fifteen minutes she nearly crashed the car, this time because of laughter, but managed to keep control and sing along with the music.

”Oooh, you make me live, now, honey!”

The rest of the ride back to Broadchurch, Hardy sulked.

At half-nine the next morning, he stopped at her desk and crossed his arms.

“D’you need something?” Ellie asked without looking up from the training video she was watching.

“Time to go.”

“Go where?”

Hardy sighed heavily. “Please, can we not do twenty fucking questions again? Won’t I get plenty of that soon enough?”

“Oh. Oh! Erm, have a good time, then,” she paused the video to smile up politely at him, wondering if he could see the dark circles under her eyes, would know that she’d cried herself to sleep the previous evening.

He nodded but didn’t move, just staring at her expectantly.

She stared back, raising her eyebrows. “Did you need something?”

“Time to go,” he repeated, giving his trademark woe is me heavy sigh when she didn’t move. “C’mon, shake a leg.”

“Why am I going?” Ellie asked stiffly, wondering if he was being deliberately cruel. It wasn’t like him, though she knew if they polled the entire office, she would be the only one to think he didn’t have a cruel, nasty bone in his body. At least, not for anyone other than murderers and the like. Even then, it was more about justice for victims than hatred for criminals.

“You’re my partner.” Hardy said it so matter-of-factly, with a casual shrug, that a little bit of the pain her heart eased. “I can’t talk about my job without you – you’re half of it.”

The balloon of her hurt popped like that, deflating, and she couldn’t help a smile. “Well, if you insist.”

A half-dozen other family friends of Fred’s classmates had been pressed into presenting as well, but Ellie was the only guest, and stood at the back of the classroom watching.

It had been gratifying when she walked in and Fred all but tackled her, shrieking with glee to see her, and she smiled even wider to see his greeting to Hardy had been significantly tamer, though still more enthusiastic than he was at others, taking him by the hand and tugging him to the front of the room.

She’d had a vague idea before, but now, watching him interact with a classroom full of six-year-olds, it was clear that Hardy was a natural with children. He talked with them, not at them, keeping them engaged for the entire ten-minute presentation. Despite the heaviness of the crimes they typically investigated in CID he kept it relevant and age-appropriate, and the kids loved it, shouting out questions and answers to the point where the teacher and other guest presenters looked fairly irritated.

Eventually he was cut off, returning to the back of the room to stand next to Ellie and watch the next guest drone on about insurance.

“You did well,” Ellie murmured, earning a pleased, hopeful smile from him.

“D’you really think so? I mean, I would certainly hope. I don’t want to embarrass him,” he whispered back, glancing around, and she had to grin at how many of the children smiled at him and he waved back.

In an uncharacteristic show of affection given that their relationship was built on insults and distance, she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Really.” Ellie smiled up at him, seeming to short-circuit his brain – his expression froze before going soft and thoughtful.

It wasn’t until they walked out of the school that she realized they were still holding hands, when they had to let go to get into the car.

“So, back to the office?”

Hardy cocked his head, surprising her with, “Why don’t we get lunch first?”

They ended up at a little roadside café, taking a few minutes first to stare at the menu.

Once ordered, though, Ellie felt a weird vibe, inexplicably nervous. It’s just Hardy, she reminded herself sternly, but the butterflies in her gut refused to leave.

“So-” they started at the same time, laughing softly as the tension seemingly broke.

“Go ahead,” Hardy encouraged, folding his arms on the tabletop and leaning forward.

She grinned back, matching his posture. “I was just going to say, you did very well. The kids loved you, though none more than Fred.” Her son had looked positively enamored, and she was looking forward to his recap that night at home.

“I enjoyed it.” His tone said he was surprised, a wistful quality to it she didn’t immediately understand. “I had to do the same for Daisy, once, when she was… oh, a wee bit older than he is. Her classmates seemed to enjoy my presentation, but Daisy…” he trailed off, staring down at his hands, an old sadness clear on his face. “She was embarrassed, said I didn’t do it right. That I’d made her the laughingstock of the class. Tess, she went to the presentation too but didn’t speak, agreed. They both thought I was shit.”

Ellie’s heart broke for him. She was brutally aware of what it felt like to be rejected by your child, and once again felt anger at Tess on his behalf. “I’m sorry. Is that why you were so nervous?” Unthinkingly she reached out her hand, putting it halfway across the table, surprised when he settled his on top.

“Yeah.” After a moment he rallied, looking up again and smiling. “Never mind, all in the past. But, really, I’m pleased he was satisfied.”

“Well, I was certainly was happy,” she teased, trying to concentrate through the warmth of his hand on hers. “You said some awfully nice things about your partner – she sounds great.”

Hardy kept looking at her, the heat of his gaze almost enough to make her uncomfortable. “She’s one of the best detectives I’ve ever met,” he said truthfully.

Ellie’s eyes widened, cheeks burning, and she dropped her eyes to stare at the tabletop. “Don’t exaggerate,” she mumbled.

“It’s true. She’s also the best friend that I’ve ever had.”

Unbidden, the lyrics to the song from yesterday flashed through her mind – on the surface it was a nice song about friendship, though one only had to listen to the lyrics to realize it was a love song.

Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had/I've been with you such a long time/You're my sunshine and I want you to know/That my feelings are true/I really love you/Oh, you're my best friend

Peeking up at him from below her lashes, she found him watching her, a strange peace on his face. Like that her nerves disappeared, and for the first time since Joe’s arrest, she had a clear vision of her future, of what she wanted life to look like.

“You help restore my faith,” she said softly, tentatively, “whenever this world is cruel to me.”

Hardy’s expression lit like the sun, a dazzling smile appearing, and she waited with bated breath to see if her message was received, and possibly, maybe returned.

“I know I’ve gone off and left a couple times now,” he replied slowly, hand pressing hers into the table, “but I seem to keep coming back to you.”

For the second time in as many days tears pricked at her eyes, though this time, they were of happiness.

“You’re my best friend.”

It was awkward, with the table between them, but they managed to meet in the middle and share a sweet kiss, one that promised many more.

Ooh, you make me live.

#bbatcfic #Broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Hardy #Miller #You’re My Best Friend #prompted fic

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webcricket · 6 years ago

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Looking Glass

Chapter 17 - Willkommen!

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 2037

Summary: The part of the story in which the reader really should have listened to Castiel’s thoughts regarding her safety.

Miss a chapter? Have a Masterlist Link!

You sit on a fallen tree trunk stripped by weather and time of the remnants of its roughened bark at meadow’s edge nursing your woe in the peaceful haven Cas shared with you on that first fateful bunker outing together. The season’s rain and shade of surrounding trees lends a bracing dampness to air freshened by clusters of purple aster and sunny wild coreopsis blooms. Every so often, your toes prod the spongy mound of moss beneath bare feet; the earth thereon is scattered with contrasting piles of yellow petals plucked from the crowns of flowers, unlucky demise the result of their proximity to your person – a person absent-minded with need to apoplectically occupy fingers by dismembering the delicate buds one by one whilst reciting in silent solitude the not very cheering and pitifully childish mantra, ‘He loves me, he loves me not.’

You couldn’t bring yourself to stay inside today knowing the rift was opening and Cas was leaving, with feeling as though the tattered bits of hope still anchored in your heart at the possibility of his coming around and forgiving you might come completely untethered in his absence. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye himself, a slight you can only assume expresses the uncaring truth of his angelic nature; in which case, shame on you for letting down your guard and letting him in when you knew full well the sinister substance angels are made of. You wonder if Sam drew the short straw in announcing their imminent departure. You wonder if any of them are ever coming back or if, like before Dean rescued you, you’ve lost everyone you care about to that devastated world and must endure alone in this strange one.

A sharp snort and stomp of hoof draws your attention up and out into the field. The twin fawns, white spots fading on tawny coats with maturity, cautious of the salt smell and sniffling sounds of a human quietly sulking and seething, creep into the clearing to join you. Ears flicking, the larger of the two fixes her brown-doe eyes on your slumped figure. After a moment, her steady gaze shifts, drifting deeper into the wood beyond where you sit; her wary regard softens. Though not visible to you at this distance, the mirror image of a man in a trench coat reveals in the enameled glaze of her eyes – a man she knows simply as the sweetness of apples. Satisfied no danger exists, she paws at the ground and drops her head to join her sister in grazing upon the dewy grass.

Rounding the log with seraphim stealth of silence, Castiel sinks beside you.

At least you assume it’s the angel, certain anyone else at all would have sent the deer running in fright. For fear of shattering the illusion he’s here, that he didn’t leave after all, you keep your focus trained ahead.

He, too, looks forward, crossing and uncrossing his arms in a reflexive quest for comfort in the atmosphere of guarded awkwardness which general precedes the breaking of ice and subsequent admission of personal failings invariably followed by a vulnerable outpouring of bottled emotion which to him, as a divine being honed to conceal such sentimental weaknesses with wrathful righteousness, feels nearly as unnatural as it does natural. Unable to subdue the inner tumult of manifest feelings, he fidgets – a soldier waging war within the battleground of a vessel containing aloof angelic reason and a heart hewn to love humanity, the opposing ends battling to do the right thing by you.

The spastic shuffle of limbs in the otherwise hushed setting is enough to drive you bonkers. You reach out sideways, the impulse not entirely in your conscious control, and seize his hand to still the closest fretting limb. He does not stiffen at the suddenness of your touch, nor does he pull away when your fingers flex and fold, seeking the warmth and security of the spaces between his own.

You hold each other thus, unspeaking, watching the deer without really watching them, for what seems a stretch of eternity.

The fawns, perhaps sensitive to a tension strained to the pressure point of bursting, grow weary of munching. Fuzzy dew-soaked muzzles quivering, they decide in a subtle show of twitching withers and flinching flanks to embark on a winding path across the meadow. Disturbed from tall grassy posts, the translucent wings of small flies take flight, glittering the sky in the wake of their departure.

As the dim thickness of the bordering forest swallows up the creatures and outward tranquility again reigns supreme, Cas speaks. “I owe you an apology.”

You turn, a startled gasp catching in your throat at the blueness of his irises after being deprived of their gentle light for so many days. Shaking your head, you murmur, “You don’t owe me anything.” It’s an honest correction – he healed your mortal wounds with his grace and cleared the scorched ruin of your mind to give you back your memories. Wanting anything beyond these miracles seems greedy; although, at the sight of the doubtful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth over your contradiction, the swiftly thumping knot of muscle wedged inside your chest tells you despite all reason the heart nonetheless desires more.

His small smile dissolves almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a contrite pout. “I behaved” –he pauses to glance upward in search of a grand and meaningful explanation. Finding none in the grey clouds above, he settles for the humble truth– “selfishly.”

“Me too,” you contend. “More so. You saved my life and I-”

“Acted as anyone who lost everything and everyone they cared about would under the circumstances.” Interrupting your attempt at self-contempt, he squeezes your hand tighter. “Please forgive me for allowing frustration to get the better of me” –he brings his fingertips up to caress your cheek– “for forgetting you have feelings too. If you permit me, I’ll try to do better.”

His sincerity extracts an airy breath of pardoning laughter and bright twist of smile from you. “I’d say you’re only human, but …”

Chin dropping to his chest under the weight of his matching beam of a grin, he lets go a husky chuckle.

Soles of bare feet slipping on the moss, a relief of warm tears brimming over your lashes, you dive to embrace the angel.

Opening his arms to your scrabbling hug, he winds them about your waist to draw you into his lap and pull you firm to his torso. He buries his nose into your tousled hair to nuzzle and kiss the top of your head.

It’s there, clasped in the refuge of revived affection, it occurs to you to ask why he’s still here when he was supposed to leave hours ago with Sam and Dean and Gabriel. “Cas, what happened with the rift?” you mumble the query into the cushion of his coat.

He smooths a hand up your back. “We” –he hesitates, fisting and flattening his fingers at your spine– “we need another source of archangel grace. Gabriel’s is too weak to maintain the gateway to your world. I came to talk to you about that.”

You incline backward slightly to peer up at him. “How can I help?”

“We have a plan. It’s not a great plan” –he frowns, blues sheening in a serious darkened glint as he continues– “or even a good one. Sam accurately called it one of the worst plans ever and Dean’s sarcasm was evident even to me, but it seems to be the only option available to us if we want to rescue Jack and Mary and stop Michael.”

“What’s going on?” You squirm to sit up straighter, steadying yourself by clutching the lapels of his coat.

His tone tumbles gravely deeper. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything, angel.” Freeing a hand, you reach up to run your fingers through the silky sweep of chestnut locks gathered at his temple.

He looks at you hard, eyes narrowed and roving your features like he’s searing a mapped memory of your face into his celestial consciousness; after a few breathless heartbeats, he nods, lids relaxing their squint to blink entreatingly wide. “Y/N, I need to know you’re safe, no matter what happens.”

A spasm of emptiness snatches at the steady rhythm of your heart. In the skipped beats, you sense what’s coming next – he’s about to ask you to leave just when you’ve reconciled. You bite back the argument brewing on your tongue.

Regardless of the uneasiness he feels flowing through your veins, he continues in hope elucidation of the danger will assuage your trepidation. “As we speak, Rowena, Gabriel, and the Winchesters are attempting to capture Lucifer to bring him to the bunker in order to use him as a power source to keep the rift open. To do so means we need him alive.”

“You’re bringing the devil … here?” you gulp, although the news does nothing to diminish your desire to remain.

“Yes, and if you’re to be safe, you should be somewhere else.” He ignores the slow objecting wiggle of your head. “It isn’t as far as I’d like, but in Sioux Falls we have friends …”

“Cas” –you press a palm to his heart– “I’m staying.”

An anxious line creases his forehead at your protest. “If you think what happened to you on your world was bad, multiply that by a hundred thousand times and that’s what happens if Lucifer manages to free himself. He’s without mercy. Think about it.”

Unmoved, you enfold yourself back into his embrace. “There’s nothing to think about. I need to be here to make sure nothing happens to the rift. To make sure you come back.”

“Y/N …” Recognizing his frustration once again threatens to erect a wall between you, he stifles further reproach out of respect. Cuddling you close, he reassures himself you’re stubborn. Strong. “Very well … little one.”

Little one. A cold shiver courses your coiled form. The other Castiel called you that – not out of any tender endearment, but to reinforce your insignificance to him.

Dread darkens the perimeter of your vision; the colorful meadow wavers ribbon-like in ebbing blackness. “Wh-what did you call me?” you stutter in a fraught whisper; the tentative wriggle from the angel’s grasp rapidly evolves into a desperate struggle to free yourself as his grip constricts your movements.

“I said, you did very well, little one,” he repeats in the wrong voice, his nasally strangely accented voice.

Eyelids clamping, you try to believe this is a nightmare.

Snippets of memory roar through your mind in a vacuum of wind: Cas – your Cas – cutting Lucifer’s throat. The golden bolt of the rift opening in the library. Cas’ parting kiss before stepping through it that felt too much like a final goodbye. The devil’s escape. Rowena’s threat to abandon them all and your frantic plunge back into your world through the flickering rift, unarmed and unequipped, to warn the others and because you couldn’t imagine being separated from your angel forever.

The greater your panic to be free, the more agonizing the reality of entrapment. You discover then you cannot scream, the fingers gripping your gorge prevent any sound from escaping your lips or air from entering your lungs. You verge on blacking out, having no such luck as the vice relents to let you suck in a gasp in order to keep you conscious.

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

The skin sheathing your wildly darting orbs unwillingly parts to comply with the order. An unsympathetic appearing Englishman with fractured facial structure and shrouded in mercenary black frowns at you from where he hangs by the wrists from the beam of the ceiling. Beyond him, a fiery redhead slumps comatose where she sits bound and bleeding in a chair.

Castiel tilts you by the neck, wrenching your regard with angelic force from the others in the room to center instead on him; features alive in a firestorm of tics, dead opaque eye and menacing blue one searing you to the soul, he yanks you closer. Brushing his convulsive lips to yours, he growls, “Welcome home, my little one.”

Next: Ch. 18 - The Good Soldier

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 6 years ago

Text

Deal

Bonjour, mes chers! I was cleaning up some files and it seems I never uploaded this drabble? It's possible I have it uploaded somewhere and just can't find it, so enjoy it again if that's the case!

Title: Deal

Alternate Universe: None / Post Canon (Age of Twins ~ 16/17)

Rating: T (for mentions of blood and temporary major character death)

Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical trauma, and temporary major character death

Inspired By: I have no idea, I just found it in my google drive when cleaning

Summary: Dipper should know better than to ever make deals with a demon such as him. Still, family is always more important, isn’t it?

Read here on FFN Read here on AO3

Don’t forget I’m doing more cool things on my Patreon all the time! I also have a Ko-Fi so consider buying me a coffee if you can’t pledge!

“Well, well, well, isn’t this an interesting thing for me to wake up to!” The boisterous voice grated on the ears and echoed throughout the now silent woods, Dipper’s vision fuzzy as black and white swirled at the edges of his world and- God, what had they done. “Oh, oh, is it my birthday? I feel like it’s my birthday with a gift like this!”

Body twitching on the dry, dead grass, Dipper dug his fingers into the lifeless earth as he looked up at hearing a soft whimper. Mabel was staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, entire body shaking. Autumn leaves were threaded through her hair and dirt mixed with blood streaked her cheeks. He wasn’t sure which one coughed on the blood in their throats first, but he knew that soon the both of them were gasping for air.

“I said to not let them touch it!” The voice that yelled had Dipper covering his ears and no… No, he had heard enough of that voice to last a lifetime. No more. Please- Please. Hadn’t he paid enough for his mistakes? Hadn’t he suffered enough?

“Oh, so it was just an accident. How disappointing- Ooh, but that means you didn’t wake me- Hah! It wasn’t you lot! It was them who did it! Oh, how beautiful.” Dipper couldn’t help but wonder what was worse - running from hell or running straight into its arms.

“Enough. Let’s finish this now. They know too much. Besides, that is weakened. It won’t take much to put it down for good.” Reality around them rippled and shifted and twisted and idiots. Idiots. It had taken the sacrifice of everything to defeat him last time. They really thought he was weak?

“Now, now, didn’t your mother ever teach you to not be rude.” Jerking backwards as blue fire seared its way into the earth, Dipper shrieked at the pain that wracked his body. It hurt- It hurt. The fire, though… When that brushed him, it didn’t hurt. He knew what that meant.

“Di-pper.” God, Mabel sounded as wrecked as he felt. It was all he could do to grasp her hand when she crawled close enough, the two linking their fingers together and holding on tightly. No matter what happened next… Well. At least they would die together, right?

“Oh, how sweet.” Children. They were such children. Had they really thought they could survive this? Had they really thought this was the best idea to beat such a dangerous enemy? It was so- It was- Children. “You thought I was bad, huh? Didn’t even think that there’s more dangers in this world than me. You should be careful of crows, you know. They tend to gather around dead bodies.”

“Release them, demon! The Sect of the Crow stands with God to spread His light and message! You shall not poison the world with your sin!”

“Ugh, disgusting as I remember.” The fire flickered over his skin, Dipper focusing - or at least trying his best to - and staring at the circle that was burned into the dead ground. Circle. Oh… “You made a very dangerous enemy, you two. Honestly, you’re always getting into such trouble!”

The circle wrapped around him and Mabel tightly, Dipper’s gaze slipping and sliding more towards that hazy world of black and white. A scream stuck itself in his throat as his head was jerked up by fingers under his chin, Dipper feeling heat and power as a gloved hand held him in place- Gloved. Human. A human gloved hand.

“What are you doing, demon! Get away from them! Quickly- Quickly! Kill them before it regains power!” Power… Ah, that was right. They had been running- Leading. They had been leading them all and- It was cold.

“You humans are always so fragile.” It hurt. Everything hurt - everything except that quiet voice, words near hummed out instead of spoken. The words were low, and smooth, and nothing like the high-pitched, wild glee from before. “Get in over your head, Pine Tree?”

The blue fires blazed around him and his sister, Dipper prying his eyes open (when had he closed them?) and looking into eyes of molten gold. Eyes. Eyes. “Oh, Pine Tree.” Gold and black and retribution. “Look at you. All grown up.”

Mabel’s weak groan captured his attention for only a moment, the hand on his chin keeping him from moving. He was almost grateful for it. Almost. Almost. So many almosts. He had almost been fast enough. He had almost been smart enough. He had almost been strong enough. He had almost managed to beat them. He had almost managed to save them. Almost, almost, almost.

There was blood on his hands. His head was given a rough shake, Dipper’s gaze skittering back to that molten, bubbling gold, attention utterly and completely captured. All he felt was the leather glove against his skin and the fading warmth of his sister’s hand. “Oh, it seems she’s dying too, now. Tell me, Pine Tree, how much family did your mistakes cost you?”

He thought he was so smart. Now look. Blood. So much blood. Ah, everything was quiet. Maybe that’s why he had this sense of standing on the edge. No- Yeah. Yeah, that was it. It was standing on the edge of a cliff so high up you couldn’t even see the ground and it was just one small step-

“Mason Pines.” The only breathing he could hear was his. The sound of screaming and gunfire was so far away, but the only breathing he could hear was his. Only his. Mabel… “Ssh, it’s alright. I can fix everything. I can fix all of it. You know I can. You know my power.”

Pine Tree. Only one person had ever… Right. They had escaped where they had been keeping them and they had lead them all into the woods that they knew so well and they had a plan. They failed. Blood and fear and human skin had touched the stone. Ah, the hand in his was limp. Cold. Empty. Lifeless.

An intake of air had Dipper coughing, vision swimming before he felt warm human skin instead of a leather glove- Human. “What do I want? Isn’t it obvious? I can fix it, but I want my freedom.” No. No. His family in exchange for the entire world? He could never- Mabel. Mabel. “It may not be worth them, but isn’t it worth your world?” Cold. Cold and lifeless. “Mason Sherman Pines.”

Don’t trust him. Don’t let him in your head. Don’t listen to him. Don’t make the same mistakes. Turn away. Turn away, turn away, turn away quick before he catches you- Save them? “Every single one of them.” The gunshots grew closer and the screaming grew louder. “You know what I want.”

Ah, well. In that case, it wasn’t a competition at all, was it? It never was. Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.

Mabel’s hand fell out of his and another took its place. Warm (burning), hard (painful), and tight (greedy). “You know what to say, don’t you? Well?”

Bill Cipher.

The word was torn out of him with a single, last breath.

“Deal.”

I give you everything.

“-ipper. Dipper! Wake up, sleepy head!” Jerking awake with a gasp of air, Dipper clutched at his side where the knife had been stabbed into him far too deep- And… Skin. Nothing but smooth skin that was only broken up by the appendix scar he had since he was nine. Which was impossible - completely impossible. He had just been bleeding out in the woods and dying and oh, god he had said- “Dipper?”

“Okay- I’m okay. I guess I had a nightmare.” Dipper shook under the hand his sister placed against his forehead, looking frantically around the bus. They were on a bus? When had they… It was rumbling along, though, the sight of trees passing them by and the highway bumpy under the wheels. There were only three other people, one on his phone, another asleep against the window, and one hiding obvious animal ears under a hat. “We’re… We’re on a bus.”

“Well, yeah. C’mon, bro-bro, we’re going to visit the Grunkles. Re- Remember?” Mabel looked at him with eyes full of worry, Dipper only giving a shaky nod in response. “It’s June fifteenth.” Right. The start of summer. They were going to Gravity Falls. “Maybe you should try to get some more sleep until we get there.”

“Yeah- Yeah, sorry, Mabel. I just had a really bad nightmare, I guess.” Settling back and closing his eyes, Dipper pulled his hat down low enough to block out the sun, sighing as the world began to darken. Nightmare. It was just a nightmare, he told himself. Only that.

Then his world was filled with black and white and a loud, bright laugh that shook the very foundation of reality.

“Well, well, well. Didn’t that ‘Grunkle’ of yours ever teach you not to make a deal with a demon, Pine Tree?”

#gravity falls #bill cipher #dipper pines #otpafs #blood

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