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moodymisty · 1 year ago

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[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 2 of ? - Part 1

Author's note: Part 2, enjoy. More severe yandere combined with a teeny tiny tiny bit of lewdness. Could I write another part? Maybe. ;3 I just wanted to keep myself at a reasonable amount of work while I take my 'break'.

Summary: Guilliman falls for the one person who's treated him like a man, and wants nothing more than for you to never leave him.

Relationships: Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive relationship and Guilliman using his power to manipulate and trap you, I don't have to tag age difference do I?, Dubious consent, Guilliman's yandere grip gets tighter and a bit more obvious

Word Count: 2813

Guilliman and you both look over a holotable, the sickly green glow casting both of your bodies in it's light. Guilliman notices you glancing up at him more than a few times, in-between speaking.

He's more than pleased he threw everyone out of this room, to grant you both a moment of privacy. Having to maintain decorum around you is difficult, far more than he thought it would be.

"The planet is largely unmined, with some convincing, we could perhaps take advantage of all the raw material." You notice Guilliman's reaction to the prospect when you take another glance upward at him.

"I don't like that face," You joke. "You look irritated at that idea." Guilliman takes a deep breath through his nose.

"I remember this planet, from the Great Crusade. They were pompous and unmovable. Perhaps time has mellowed them." He looks at you, and watches the silky blue fabric of your dress shift against your form as you lean to one side and think.

The dress was a gift from him. One of many. He had excused it as a business expense, to match you with him and his legion in attire. It should be obvious upon first glance that you are with him, a part of the Ultramarines. Though your happiness at seeing it had fit absolutely perfect was worth more than anything else.

The necklace laying against your collarbone was one as well. The more he looks the more he realizes that you're swimming in gifts. Even after such a short period of time.

You gently smile at his comment. "Hopefully it has." Guilliman shifts, and outside the Armour of Fate, he takes pleasure in the ability to twist and turn without limits.

"There was not many planets that I could say truly made me angry; This was one of them." You raise your eyebrows while listening. "Perhaps this time with you will be different." Guilliman leans away from the holotable, and changes the subject to something more casual.

"Would you like something to drink?" He says. "You've been here for hours now." You shake your head and laugh at him, hands pressing against the edge of the holotable's frame.

"I am always here for hours, Roboute. I practically live here."

You are almost always at his side, either on new planets or on the Macragge’s Honor, surrounded by Ultramarines. Anyone you might’ve known on Macragge has fallen to the wayside, friendships decayed. You simply didn’t have the time for them, anymore.

Guilliman had made sure of it.

As for 'practically' live here, you do live here; Any attempt to leave would've been swiftly denied but any myriad of excuses. One of the positives of him keeping you so busy has been that you simply think it easier just to stay on the ship, and Guilliman knows as time passes you'll begin to think of it as home instead of where you lived before.

You almost never speak to the few guardsmen or serfs around however, as they’d been ordered to by and large avoid you, unless given a task. Your only option for company is him, or his men. You’ve spoken to Sicarius all of once, and rarely others. Many of them have yet to warm up to your sudden entrance into their lives, and legion.

You and Lieutenant Titus had begun to chatter a bit more as of late, but Guilliman had made sure to tell the marine to keep his words curt, and hands to himself.

"But yes. I'll gladly take a drink."

In this moment Guilliman is thankful he can stay out of the Armour of Fate for more than a few hours at a time now, as he pours a glass of wine for you. He is already far too large for this world, and the gauntlets would've only made such a task impossible. You speak up again as he hands you one of the two glasses, and you gently take it between both of your much gentler hands.

"I never did thank you properly for the dress." He shakes his head.

"You should be wearing attire appropriate of your position; You're no longer just a translator on Macragge; You are part of the Ultramarines, now." He continues. "And you should consider it a gift for your fine work, as well."

You softly thank him, a gentle smile on your face as you take another sip of wine. He can see the stain on your lips, before you wick it away.

He can tell on your face that you're tired, after hours and hours of this. He's sure the other diplomats don't provide very good company, especially for long periods.

But just as you open your mouth to say your goodbyes, to return to your quarters and leave him alone for hours once again, Guilliman cuts you off.

Now is a better time than any. You both are alone, in good spirits; He doubts he'll find a better time to say this.

“I do have one more thing to ask of you, before you leave.”

With a curious look you gaze up at him, the wine glass empty in your hand. You set it aside as Guilliman rounds the holotable to stand in front of you. You aren't phased by it, his physical stature and position in the Imperium no longer do so after so much time together. Yet another reason why he needs to grab hold of you tight before he no longer has the chance.

“I’m all ears, Roboute.”

You speak so humanly and casually to him, which makes him nearly smile.

He can’t wait to finally make you his.

To not have to stand a distance away, to keep his hands away from you. To refer to you with your proper title, and forgo the intimacy of your given name. His men don't tolerate you speaking to him so casually, but as Lady Guilliman, they'll have little choice in the matter.

He had wanted to do this slowly, properly, but he is so unfathomably inpatient when you're so close to him.

Guilliman takes a knee, and enjoys the feeling of being able to do so outside of his hulking armor. The action makes your eyebrows raise, curious as to why he seems to be acting so different than moments before. While he might lament his height at times, he rarely kneels in front of you, unless what he must say is of the utmost importance.

"I suppose I should be blunt," He says, before continuing. “You have been nothing but kind, forgiving, and humorous with me.”

You look at him confused, the pale green light of the holotable illuminating half of your face.

"In all of our time together, it has dawned on me that my fondness for you perhaps goes beyond just that of a friend."

You look so surprised; How innocent you are to how much he needs you, even as he says this.

“I would ask for more as to court you the way a woman such as you deserves.”

He knows from a source, multiple of them, that your family has been seeking a marriage for you. Your work and fierce independence, as well as Guilliman's sudden diplomatic proposition, had postponed it for the time being, but Macragge’s culture would eventually catch up to you.

His own proposal will put a fierce stop to that. A real one, not one for a diplomatic position. That was to simply get you away from them, off of Macragge; You being so well versed at it was simply good fortune. But for once he’s pleased with the worship his title brings him; Someone so high in the Imperium would never refuse his asking for your hand.

And if he did, Guilliman knows of more than a few other options to fix such a problem.

He also knows you won’t say no. He knows that no suitor your family found for you could ever stand next to him, and not lost in his shadow. He would refuse to allow it. You don’t know any of them as well as you do him, you’ve been surrounded by nothing but his sons for nearly a year now. Your entire life is him, his legion and his crusade.

Your few friends and acquaintances have slowly fallen away one by one, friendships decaying or their fear of misstepping around a women so close to the Lord Regent pushing them all away. Familiar faces have been forgotten, your guards replaced with his own men.

For once, he finally gets a chance to be selfish. To finally have someone he can call his own; Who will never leave him. Someone there for him in every meaning of the word, and no longer will he have to traverse this rotten galaxy alone.

“I, um,” Now of all times words have left you, and you stumble over your tongue. Though Guilliman has no need for you to say any of them.

He knows you’re going to say yes. There is no possible scenario of all the ones he has meticulously planned out where you don't.

If you some how defied the odds and did so out of some sort of corruption or manipulation, he has more than enough time to keep you held somewhere safe until you regained your senses.

Guilliman takes a hand and cups the side of your jaw, tilting your head upward. Such an angle makes it easier for the massive primarch to press his lips to your own, stiff from surprise.

Though they do soften, and you accept his kiss. Your eyes flutter closed and your hands go from frozen in front of your chest, to laying against his collarbone.

His lips press against yours harder, and you softly sigh into his mouth.

His difference in stature makes even such a simple thing require so much logistical thinking, as he looms over you. His strength makes it so easy to push you away, so he places a hand on your back to keep your close.

This moment, and many farther beyond, have been replayed in his head a million times. He knows each step to take. Each movement to pull your closer into him, and to be gentle with you. No matter how much is patience is tried as your warm, soft lips finally press against his; Your heart and breath like music to his ears. He can hear it all, now that you're so close.

You pull away for a moment- lips plump and well kissed- and take a breath but as soon as he sees your mouth open to try and form words, he swallows them. His lips press against yours again with even more force than the last.

You want this, you want him; He refuses to let you talk yourself out of it.

His massive hand trails up your thigh, slowly pushing up the bottom your dress. He reveals more and more, and he swears he can smell the way your body is calling for him. The soft flesh of your thighs is surely visible now, nearly at their apex and he wants nothing more than to place his head between them and make your cry out for him.

“Lord Guilliman?”

The Primarch quickly moves to right himself, as you brush the bottom of your dress back into form.

The duo of Astartes instead of waiting simply spoke his name as they walked in, now standing in the entrance watching their Primarch boil in his own armor.

In a morose thought, he supposes this was how Angron felt about his sons at times; The hate.

“What is it that is so important that it could not wait?”

Both men are unable to read the room, and fail to notice you with your wide eyes, heavy breathing, and the way your arms wrap around your body. One arm of your dress dropped revealing your shoulder, and you quickly fix it. The bottom of your dress catches on the soft flesh of your thighs, and fails to right itself until you quickly brush it downward.

“Lord Calgar wishes to speak with you immediately. He explicitly stated it was urgent.”

“Everything with Calgar is urgent…” Guilliman uncharacteristically mumbles.

You back away from him, and Guilliman resists the urge to grab you. He resists it purely to not startle you after so much has happened; He doesn't wish to push you too hard just yet.

“I’ll see you in a bit then, Guilliman. I should get some rest before we make it planetside.”

With little option in the matter without using force, Guilliman nods.

“…Very well. Perhaps we can continue this conversation another time.” You look him in the eyes for a moment before glancing away.

"Yes, I'd like that."

He resists the urge to let the corners of his mouth drift upwards, before reluctantly letting you leave.

Guilliman taps his armored fingers against the tabletop in a rare moment of impatience. He takes a deep breath, and his armor shifts. He can still feel the softness of your lips on his from the evening before, and he wants nothing more than to finish what he had started, no matter how much this forsaken crusade attempts to get in his way.

He knows you'll wake soon and begin your day. It will be a longer one, with hours of frivolous speech with various diplomats and dignitaries. You're far better than he at these sorts of things. In his youth he might've been a bit more patient with the song and dance, but now he has little time for it.

You'll meet him here once you're ready. He has your routines memorized, paths traced. He knows how much time you take, and if you deviate from it, he'll send someone to right your path and bring you to him. You might have more freedom than many aboard the Macragge's Honor, but only because he knows you will always return to him.

His men know to not let you wander too far anyhow. They might be neutral to you now, but they know to not allow you too far out of your bounds for too long, even if you can't see the line.

It's not as if you have much reason to leave those bounds anyhow, now. Everything you could ever want is here. Everything you need is with him. All you have to do is ask.

Perhaps for a moment he might feel guilty, to not allow you a baseline human's normal life. But then he remembers how much he's given these thousands of years, how selfless he's been, and he casts that guilt aside.

“Sicarius.”

The Astartes is at attention near instantly, and comes to his genefather’s side with his helmet in his hand and the other on the pommel of his chainsword. A perfect marine in perfect form, as always.

“Yes, Lord Primarch?” He speaks your name, gentle on his tongue. Even just saying it returns a bit of his sanity to him.

“I don’t want anywhere she goes to be unseen when she is planetside. Use as many men as you see fit to accomplish such a task.” Sicarius shifts his weight slightly.

The captain is still new to you, to all of this with his primarch's sudden idée fixe, and expresses his concerns in a rare fit of doubt.

“My lord, is that not a waste of resources for one diplomat? For what reason?”

Guilliman sighs. Of course the one time he was relying on Sicarius' stalwart dependability and devotion, he doubts him.

"Because, Sicarius," He turns, and his shoulders straighten underneath the Armour of Fate's large pauldrons. The old wound on his neck pulses; Healed and gone, but still aching like there is a ghost of the blade that killed him.

"If she is hurt, or if someone manages to kill her, then this entire Imperium can burn in the Warp, for all I would care."

The Ultramarine Captain stands stunned, more than likely shocked by his primarch’s seeming lack of care to the modern Imperium.

Though it seems Sicarius takes his words as some sort of euphemism, or joke- he's been known to make one or two, if he feels keen- and nods.

“…It will be done, my lord.”

One day perhaps the man will understand what it’s like to be so infatuated with another. Though unlikely. Sicarius is far too absorbed in his own duties and faith to look past his own boots.

But Guilliman can. He knows his future is with you. You’ll be at his side, as his confident, his lover, the mother of his sons not made on an apothecary table.

It will all happen, it just needs time. Guilliman has the ability to give you every single thing you could ever want- be it physical or otherwise- and he has the patience to wait for you as you continue to slowly fall into his arms.

#roboute guilliman x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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bangtanintotheroom · 1 year ago

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Plug & Play (M)(Teaser)

• Pairing: Guitarist!Hongjoong x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Rock Band!AU, Smut, Strangers to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words (teaser): 742

• Summary: Tonight is the night that you quit being a bystander and make a move towards the guitarist on stage with the devilish smile.

• Warnings/themes: a rock show! 🎸, swearing, drinking, pining, Y/N is a horny bean, Hongjoong and his dangerous smiles 🫠, Yeosang the wingman, flirting, making out, semi-public sex, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, fingering, hitting it from the back, fingers in mouth, finger sucking, protected sex (be responsible!), clothed sex, multiple orgasms

• Notes: Welp, it’s happened; I fell for yet another leader 🙃 which culminated in me going feral over his recent guitar solo and needing to write something related to it. So here it is! I should have this uploaded by Thursday morning, the latest, since I’ll be out of town for a few days. We’re trucking along pretty quickly, so I have faith! 💕

• Teaser Notes: Teasers are a WIP and will not fully reflect the final draft, warnings and themes are subject to change. If you want to be tagged when the final draft is released, either leave a reply or shoot me an ask!

• Taglist: @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @firesighgirl @swga-ficrecs @hyunjinsjeans

“I’m gonna fuck him.”

Yeosang stared at you from behind the counter, wondering if he heard you right amidst the clinking glasses and rock music.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m gonna fuck him, Yeo.”

“Who?”

You rolled your eyes, rotating ninety degrees to point at the object of your desire on stage.

“Him.”

There was little surprise on your end at the scoff you heard from behind.

“You’re still on that mission?”

Your head whipped around incredulously. “Yes! Why are you shocked by this?”

Yeosang’s expression reeked of indifference as he wiped some bottles down.

“Because I thought you would have given up by now.”

“I don’t give up easily, dude—” Your eyes watched as a certain someone tuned their guitar strings. “—especially when I really want something.”

And you really wanted the man you had in your sights.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Are you new here?”

Your head shook at Seonghwa’s question. “No, I don’t even work here. Just helping my friend out while he gets slammed with customers.”

The pretty guitarist smiled softly.

“That’s very nice of you.”

Your cheeks couldn’t help but warm a tiny bit, shooting him the same look. “Thank you. He has to listen to enough of my ranting at home, might as well ease his pain somehow.”

Yunho blinked curiously before asking, “You’re roommates?”

“Mhm.”

He made a sound of understanding, yet another voice cut in before he could say anything.

“Thought you looked familiar.”

You focused your sight on Hongjoong, recognition on his attractive face that had your heart beating a little faster.

“Me?”

“Yeah—” His mouth quirked. “—thought I saw you hanging around Yeosang the last few times we were here.”

Oof. You weren’t sure how to react to him basically saying that he recognized you from afar. It wasn’t a bad thing, at all, considering your end goal, but you were surprised he even remembered with the amount of people in this building.

All you could muster was a scratch of the back of your neck, trying not to fluster further under his gaze.

“Haha, that’s me, always bugging him.”

Hongjoong gave a soft laugh, eyes scrunching in humor. It only made you more bashful, trying your best not to rub the toe of your boot into the ground.

Noticing that Yunho was roped into a conversation with the others now, it just left you alone with the lead guitarist.

A window of opportunity!

But for some reason, you couldn’t muster the words to continue speaking with him. Even though he continued to acknowledge you with his gaze, your eyes averted to watch the stage behind the dining tables.

“Hey.”

Your ears perked up, looking up to see Hongjoong eyeing you with curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

A lifesaver.

You had to hold back the large grin you wanted to give, settling for a polite smile instead.

“Y/N.”

“So…”

You turned around, hearing the door shut and lock before Hongjoong approached you, lips curled akin to someone ready to indulge in the sweetest dessert of their life.

“Is this a much better spot?”

Your mouth twisted in humor, nodding as you replied with delight, “Much better.”

“Good.”

The both of you looked into each other’s eyes, bodies thrumming with energy that was ready to be unleashed at any moment. Although, no one made a move for a moment.

That is, until Hongjoong chose to take a step forward, leaving the tiniest of spaces between you two.

Having him so close directly in front of you had even more of an effect than before, his fresh scent invading your nostrils while your heart pumped faster. It got worse when a hand came up to brush some hair behind your ear, his touch making you bite your lip.

Hongjoong noticed your shift and chuckled, “Nervous?”

You shook your head.

“No, just…excited.”

His grin only widened at your admission, sliding his hand down gently cradle your jaw.

“Same. Didn’t think I’d ever get to be up close and personal with Yeosang’s pretty friend.”

Although you were melting inside at the compliment, your eyebrow raised in amazement.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So why didn’t you make a move first?”

You hoped to trip him up, but the guitarist didn’t seem fazed, straight teeth almost blinding you.

“I wanted to see how badly you wanted me.”

His low response brought a mixture of exasperation and lust to you, your eyes rolling as you huffed, “You rockstars and your egos.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

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enditen · 2 years ago

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birds of a feather

summary: a bit of understandable anger toward your fiancé for— in your eyes— unwise decisions leads to hurt feelings and avoidance. thankfully, the two of you come back together in the most interesting of places.

word count: 4090ish.

rating: m

warnings: public sexual acts. talk of death ( rooster's, goose's and carole's ). angst. two adults being stubborn fools. talk about breasts. talk about ruining hawaiian shirts and dress whites. kind of playing around with naval deployments and what not.

pairing: bradley ( rooster ) bradshaw x female reader ( callsign vulture )

author's note: hi, first fic in this fandom that was simply supposed to be hot titty fucking with a title of a tit for a cock and then turned into 4k of angst then some titty fucking. some of you might recognize me from another fandom on here on tumblr to which if you do, hi y'all. also i feel like i missed tags and i'm sorry about that. assuming i write more for this because i've gotten over my nervousness i'll learn. and special thanks to @blurredcolour for being a little cheerleader

You’re beginning to wonder if there’s just something about Maverick that just turns everyone around him a bit stupid. You like to think that most of the team surrounding your fiancé aren’t idiots and yet there you were being proven completely wrong as you listened to Bradley explain what exactly had happened on the mission.

“That’s not what he meant when he said don’t think!” You remembered screaming into the phone, knowing fully well that while Mav was his own special brand of stupid- and deliriously lucky he wasn’t the same level of pure unadulterated idiocy Bradley was displaying.

“It worked out!” Was somehow his raspy defense and it had taken all your self control to not hang up the phone right then and there, the sheer unmitigated aggravation seeping through your pores As it stood, what you did end up doing was letting out the world’s most put upon sigh as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re just lucky Mav didn’t have to bury another bird.” At Rooster’s sharp inhale you started to speak again. “I didn’t mean it— I’m just—”

“No. I get it, Vulture,” he spat out your callsign, a definite sign that he’s pissed and you had struck a nerve you honestly shouldn’t have right in that moment before you heard something in the background. “You don’t have to come get me, I’ll get home fine.”

The silence after he hung up feels almost as all consuming as the idea of him dying was.

It’s always been a thing that when one of you comes back from deployment or from a mission or from visiting friends who are stationed somewhere else that you pick one another up. Some of your friends call it silly, but for you and Rooster it works. You’ve always wanted to be together all the time but at the same time— when opportunities present themselves you’ve never been the type to ignore them. Hell, even if you wanted to, the other one would just argue against ignoring the opportunity. That’s why you found yourself here, waiting for Rooster to come back from what should have been a mission he didn’t come back from. What was almost a mission he didn’t come back from. You wonder if this is how his mom felt with his father and if the reason she never wanted him to become a pilot like this is to avoid anyone else having her fate. You see Rooster walking with Hangman and are about to lean out of the car to tell him to get his ass in the car before he sees you through your windshield. The look he gives you is one of aggravation and hurt that you’ve so rarely seen on his face that it practically pins you to your seat in the car. You've seen those brown eyes look at you with so much love and you've made jokes comparing them to warm chocolate more than once but in this moment— all they do is remind you of a hardened and unbreakable tree.

He shakes his head before turning to keep talking to Hangman, laughing at some probable dumb joke the man said and you swear your stomach drops through the floor of the car. You hadn’t thought he was serious about not wanting you to come get him and here he was getting into someone else’s car to go— home? Maybe, or maybe he was going to crash on Hangman’s couch or find— no. No, for all that Rooster was angry with the slip of your tongue he would never cheat on you. He loves you in a way that makes other people sick and makes Maverick and Penny tell you that yeah, you kind of remind them of his dad and Carole.

Still, he’s never been this angry at you and that terrifies you in ways that you can’t put into words. You’ve flown dangerous missions that didn’t terrify you as much as the look on Rooster’s face did right in that moment. After what feels like hours, but is only really ten minutes you pull out of the area you were parked in and head home. You don’t realize Hangman hasn’t left and that Rooster watches you leave from his side of the truck.

“She couldn’t have done anything that bad, man.” Jake tries to reason as he puts the truck in reverse.

“You don’t know her like I do," he scoffs, shaking his head and slipping on his aviators. "I forgot why she’s called Vulture. Just— Just drive.”

You suppose it's a mercy that you see Rooster the next morning, making coffee as if he didn't break your tradition with one glance through a car windshield. Suppose you should be thankful he's back home and in your kitchen and not back home in a casket, but you've never been one to allow yourself simple pleasures like that when you're hurt. When your heart's twisted into the version of itself that only releases anger and toxic fumes to push away everyone you hold dear.

That anger has your mouth moving before your brain can catch up and make you see sense. All you know is that the man you love hasn't said one word to you since that phone call and he's only making one cup of coffee and not two. Another tradition broken and you can only see red.

"Are you ignoring me?" You ask the moment he turns around, sipping his coffee without seemingly a care in the world.

Bradley isn't necessarily the more verbose out of the two of you, but he's never particularly short with you. Today is the exception, much like everything about the past two days.

"No." A pause as he sets down his coffee cup and you see a bit of coffee clinging to his upper lip and that stupid little mustache you've grown to love over the years. "Maybe."

"Maybe," you parrot, moving over to where he's standing and watching as he moves just far enough away to allow you to grab your own cup and your own specific pod to make your coffee. "You nearly die, I say something stupid and now you're acting like a moody teenager. Cute, Roo."

Roo. Not even Rooster and certainly not his name because he certainly doesn't deserve it in this moment. You watches as his eyes drift over your body, noting how you're wearing one of his favorite Hawaiian shirts with the top buttons unbuttoned, revealing skin that normally he'd have covered in kisses a thousand times over since he returned last night. Instead it's unmarred by his lips and teeth and you're as vicious as can be. Two can play that game. Two can be childish.

"I'm sorry, something stupid. No— no, you didn't say something stupid. You said something cruel. That's a big difference, babe. One is normal, the other is you reminding me that I could have left you alone just like my mom was. Like that didn't go through my head. Like Maverick didn't tell me that much while we were heading back. "

A laugh erupts from deep inside your chest as you turn to look at Rooster. "Did it really go through your head? Did you think I'm throwing away my life with Vulture because I need to save someone who ruined parts of my life? Or did your brain get scrambled from the G's?"

You watch as eyes that you love start to fill with something resembling tears as his hand clenches the coffee cup. He loves you, he knows that to be a simple fact. He loves you. His father loved him and his mother. Mav loves him and loved his father and his mother. And you love him. In this moment though, that last one feels like a joke, feels like a dagger twisting in his chest. Maybe you don't love him if this is what you want to spew at him. You're a woman who should have had a callsign of Viper but only gets Vulture because you can handle things other people couldn't. You take care of things other people wouldn't or couldn't. He supposes you taking on all of those things is what makes you the way you are.

"It's what my dad would have done," he forces the words out and tries to not cry because you know what that means to him. You know know better than anyone. "I was his wingman."

"And what about my wingman, Bradley?" Your question comes out softer than you mean it to even as you slam your coffee pod into the machine. Somehow tears start to tease the edge of your eye line. "You were just going to leave me without mine. You really are your father's son. Guess I should be happy we don't have a little you running around. That's a little too on the nose."

The slam of the coffee cup startles you more than anything you've thought was possible in that moment and yet without missing a beat you turn to face Rooster once again in time for you to see angry tears falling from his eyes. "I'm not doing this. You're— I didn't leave you. You're not having to bury me and you're not having to be by my side as I bury the closest thing I have to a father now. That is what should matter. Not what I did. What I know you would have done for some people. What you'd have done for Phoenix alone. I'm here in our kitchen wearing my engagement ring and you're just wearing my shirt and not sobbing into it because it's the closest thing that smells like me. Let it go." He takes a moment to take a shaky breath and starts to move toward you. "I made a mistake but I don't regret it. Let. It. Go."

If you were younger, if you were the same girl Rooster met all those years ago you'd have taken your ring off and slammed it on the counter right next to his coffee cup in a fit of anger. You're older now, same as Bradley and you stop yourself even as your hand inches toward your ring finger. Bradley's always been taller than you unless you're in heels and it forces you to look up at him. "You forget who you're wanting to marry, Bradshaw. I'm— I'm not letting this go. Just— you know what, sleep on the couch, do whatever. I don't care— you're not sleeping in our bed. Especially if you want to act like I meant to say what I said in the first place. You want to ignore me? Fine. Then do that."

You see Bradley's jaw tense, and watch the way it moves as you normally would enjoy before he speaks. "Wasn't planning on sleeping there for a while anyway. Enjoy your coffee, Y/N."

Ever since you had started dating, you and Bradley had talked every single day. No matter the fight, no matter what happened between you two you would never let something like this drag on for so long. Life was short after all and you two were both vividly aware of that.

This time though, this time it drags on for two weeks and you have a half right mind to stand in front of Bradley until he talks until you realize from how even Phoenix looks at you while at the Hard Deck that it wouldn't help. It truthfully might make things worse. So you let him stew and he lets you stew. You miss him and you like to think he misses you but you're both very stubborn people who know how to hold grudges with the best of them.

It's strange, ignoring someone you love in your own house but sometimes you'd like to argue that you and Bradley are strange people. Normal most of the time but with those small little scars inside and out that make you do strange things. Strange things like make sure your dress whites are ready to go the day of what you think is a ceremony— honestly you hadn't paid attention for once to the notice. That's what you do with someone you love and someone you care about— not someone you're still so angry with that it hurts to talk to them.

You arrive separately to questioning looks from most of the Dagger Squad and Maverick but you both shrug and smile them off even as you stay apart most of the night. What you both don't realize is that the other is sneaking glances when one of you looks away. Your eyes take in the man who you think— you hope— is still going to be your future husband and bemoan the fact that he can't wear this uniform everywhere. There's something special about seeing him all dressed in white and looking every bit a dashing naval aviator.

His eyes? Oh, his eyes take in the woman he knows he's still going to marry if one of you would just break already. They take in you in white which you hate wearing because it shows off everything and stains and all those silly things you say. They take in how your jacket contains your chest but how the buttons strain just a little and how he knows that you're probably wearing a lace bra that he loves underneath it. He knows how that bra feels against his hands when he cups your breasts and squeezes them in his hands. Your chest is a work of art sometimes— all the time really and he hasn't touched in over two weeks.

Jake is the one who notices how Bradley's eyes haven't left you for a few minutes and notices how he's shifting in place— fidgeting in a way he's never seen him.

"She's been staring at you too," the blonde chuckles. "This is— This is every bad high school dance and military ball I've ever been to rolled into one. Go over to her, Rooster. Stop pining, man."

Bradley wants to defend himself but he turns to look at you again only to catch your eyes and how they slide down his body before stopping at his crotch and— he finds most logic and sense goes out the window. Like two magnets drawn to one another you both find yourselves by each other's sides, with hands grazing each other's hips.

"I—" He starts before you shake your head.

"I was being cruel. You've— We both know I get like that and I was terrified, Bradley. I saw our lives flashing before my eyes the second I found. It was gone in an instant. That doesn't excuse—" Your words are cut off with a soft kiss that you're both endlessly thankful no one sees.

"Babe. Trust me, I know I was an idiot and that same vision you had? Yeah, you weren't the only one. I swear I heard my mom and my dad yelling at me." His words are soft as he nuzzles his nose against yours, laughing softly when you scrunch up your nose because of his mustache. "I'm sorry."

You sniffle a little, partially to prevent a sneeze from his mustache hair and to cover up the fact that you're a little emotional. "I'm sorry too." You take a moment to look up meet his eyes only to see how his eyes are trained on your breasts. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, are you staring at my boobs in public? At a function?"

You watch as a light dusting of color reaches his cheeks before he bites his lips. "And if I am?"

A breath leaves your mouth slowly as you move the hand that's been on his hip toward the front of his dress pants, giggling softly at the slight hardness you feel. "I'd say you should stop unless you want me to take care of this in the bathroom."

His eyes dart around the room checking to see if anyone will notice you're both gone for a bit before he laughs. "Meet you there in five?"

You practically give yourself minor whiplash as you nod quickly. "Can I keep the bra on?"

His groan almost gives the two of you and your plans away.

The great thing, you think, about this bra, is that it makes it so easy to have Bradley stick his cock in between your breasts without taking it off. You know by the end he'll want it off, want to squeeze your breasts as he slides his cock in between them but in the beginning he's fine with this.

"I missed my girls," he groans as you press your arms against the side of your chest, pushing your breasts together even more. "Should— Should've gotten over myself and fucked you in my shirt that morning."

"You would have gotten come on your favorite Hawaiian shirt, Bradley," you try to reason with him even as your voice takes on an airy sort of quality the quicker your fingers move in between your legs. You should have taken off your pants but you realize it's a little too late for that now.

"We're probably getting come on our dress whites, babe." It's a joke but one that's likely very true from the way you can see his cock pulse and from the way your fingers— even through the articles of clothing you're wearing sound so obscene as they squelch and slide between your folds. "Would've made it better. Fuck, swear this bra does something to your tits."

"It's a bra? A dressy one? That's the point?" You can't help but giggle as he moves faster, his cock gilding against the soft skin of your breasts. "You getting close baby?"

"Lil bit," he grunts out, his hand moving to try and grasp at one of your nipples. "You wanna free them? Let your nipples join in on the fun?"

"You just wanna smear them with precome, Bradshaw, you're not slick." It's not a no, and your hands move to start undoing your bra even as you look up and see Bradley with the dumbest smirk you've ever seen him have. "Why are you—"

"You're slick though," he pulls his cock out from between your breasts and bends down to kiss you as your bra releases your breasts. "Bad—"

"Bad dirty dad joke," you cut him off with a fond shake of your head. "At least wait until we have a little birdy before you stoop that low."

A shrug is the only answer you get as he lines his cock up with your breasts and waits for you to press them together before saying a single phrase. "Sorry. It's in my blood."

You look up at him through your eyelashes and sigh, ignoring how your heart twists a little at the faked twinkle in those brown eyes of his. Instead you bend your head down just a little to lick a small kitten lick at the head of his cock. "Doomed to those jokes for the rest of my life as Mrs. Bradshaw. What have I done?"

A shudder ripples through him at your lick and he has to force himself to not come right then and there all over your perfectly made up face. He wants to though, wants to see you debauched like you should have been the second he came home and was alive and in your arms. He should have painted your face white. Should have made it so there was a stain on his favorite shirt that he'd wear proudly because it'd tell everyone how needy you two were for each other. It'd remind everyone that he's taken by the most vicious, intelligent, and vivacious woman he's ever met. It'd remind him that you missed him that much that you couldn't bear to be apart from some part of him for too long.

He didn't though and he can't right now but tonight when you're home and laying across your shared bed maybe he can do it then and watch as your lips try and lick bits off your face. The image he paints in his mind is something else and it has him clenching the fabric of your jacket before his own hands move to play with the tops of your breasts. The action earns a low whine from you, wanting more of his large hands on you, his thumbs playing with your nipples as he kisses you. You two have to make this quick though and it shows in how Bradley's thrusts increase in speed and how he motions for you to do something— anything— with your boobs and your hands until you finally catch onto his meaning.

"You are so boob drunk, Bradley," you mutter as your hand wraps around the part of his cock not between your breasts. With every thrust up you manage a lick or two just to tease him until you see his thrusts getting messier and less controlled.

A breathless low chuckle leaves him. "Nah, just you drunk. Fuck, babe, Y/N. I'm— let him go. Gonna—"

"Cum on them. Just cum on them. I'll wipe it off."

You look up with all the confidence in the world to see him with blown out pupils and a wet lips from where he's bitten them to keep quiet. "You su—" You cut him off with an almost violent nod that has the head of his cock brushing your chin as he does. "Okay okay."

What happens next is a flurry of limbs and grunts and low whines from you and Bradley as you chase your respective highs. Bradley comes first, hips stuttering, painting your chest with his cum, pearly white and just uncontrolled enough that some lands on your lips and chin and another bit lands on your dress shirt, narrowly avoiding your jacket. Your name falls from his lips easily as you look up at him, your fingers curling just so inside of you as he reaches out to cup your cheek his brown eyes so full of love, arousal and adoration that you come with a silent cry, your body threatening to fall forward from the sheer intensity but his strong hands are there to stop you.

You both lean back— him against the wall and you on your knees- catching your breath before he moves to grab paper towels, wetting them just enough for you to clean his release off of you. He embarrassingly lets out something close to a childish whine as he watches you lick the traces of come off your lips until you raise an eyebrow at him and his hardening cock.

"When we get home." You both manage to say at the same time before letting out matching peals of laughter. After a moment where you both can't keep a straight face Bradley starts to tuck himself inside his dress pants and you start to button your shirt back up before he pulls you up with an ease that marvels you even to this day. You feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt as he straightens it out, making sure it's regulation ready. He winces at the slight stain of his come near your shoulder before remembering you still have to get your jacket on. His hands make quick work of the buttons and he notes with pride the only sliver of come one can see is easily explained away as water.

You can't help but bite your lip at Bradley when you see him looking down at you, inspecting his handiwork. Almost as if he realizes you're staring he meets your eyes and smiles this stupid half smile that makes his mustache look far cuter than it has any right to be and has his eyes dancing with mirth.

"Come on Lieutenant Bradshaw, they're gonna notice if we stay here," he tries to school his face into something resembling a serious look before he chuckles softly.

"Aye aye, Lieutenant Bradshaw." A pause. "You can't call me by your last name yet, you know."

He shrugs, unlocking the door as he wraps his arm around your waist. "I almost died. I can do it if I want. Besides, saw your thighs tense up."

You tamp down on the urge to slap his arm playfully as your own arm moves to snake around his waist. "You're lucky I love you."

"Yeah,' he stops right before you reach the door to reenter the hall and presses you just lightly against the wall. "I love you too."

#bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster smut #rooster angst #bradley bradshaw fic

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lanareadsbooks · 1 year ago

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I’m confused about us?

Inspired by this mood board I made 🩷

This is basically just ooc Billy and literally doesn’t fit into the show’s storyline at all but I love me a good cowboy so I had to write about him.

Tags: Dom!Billy Sub!Reader punishments are given, spanking, smut, oral (m) lemme know if I missed any!

It’s 18 something (?? I have no clue when the show is set in) and you’re 19 when your parents decide drop you off with a man you barely know. William H Booney. They said “he’s a the son of some good friends of ours and they said he’ll straighten you right out” I don’t need straightening. You think. Geez you steel one truck and a bottle of liquor and suddenly everyone thinks your a problem. When you were first introduced you thought “hey maybe this won’t be so bad” You. Were. Wrong. Within the first 30 minutes your parents had left you, you couldn’t stand him. He came and sat down in front of your spot on his couch, Ok listen here little girl. He said, You frowned. Little girl? You thought. These are my rules. Follow them and you and me will be just fine. He smiled. No.1 please don’t steal no trucks or anything I have enough trouble with the neighbors around here I don’t need you making that worse for me. 2 Dont back talk me. There is nothing I hate more than an undisciplined girl. Your frown deeper. Though.. I guess that’s why your here isn’t it? He laughed like it was funny. You scoffed. No I’m here because my parents expect me to stay home and clean or embroider. You laugh, And that’s not something I can do every day. Oh? Speaking of that. You’re not gonna be goin out for the first two weeks. WHAT?! You said shocked. Yes mam I think it’s exactly what you need. He said patting your thigh. I need to not go outside? You asked rudely. No you need to realize you only get what given to you. Now I want you to understand if you break any of my rules you gon be goin over my knee that minute young lady. You understand? He asked. You turned red, w-what? You said hoping you misheard him. Yes mam I don’t know about y’all city people but right here when you misbehave you don’t like what happens to ya. N-no you don’t understand, my parents would never let a strange man do that to me. S-so call my daddy and he’ll tell you you’re not allowed to do that to me. You said almost confidently. Sorry sweetheart your folks were real clear I should do whatever need be to make you behave. Tears came to your eyes, but as long as you’re good you’ll be fine. You can do that right? You said to yourself.

No. No you can not.

Less than 24 hours later you found yourself over his lap, it happened because you saw some boys going on a trail ride through the window, you saw one of them had a flask. You thought how bad do I need that, you had been up since 5am thinking about Billy, how blue his eyes were how commanding his voice was (how good he’d fuck you) but that he’d probably never want you. He apparently he saw you as a little girl. Ugh I don’t like older men anyway (wrongg) you thought. As you tried to quietly sneak down the stairs and out the front door. You saw it was locked with a padlock. Shit you thought. Your eyes darted to the window. You smirked, I don’t know what he was thinking I can fit out of these windows easy. As you were lifting the window up all you saw was two hands towing over you and pushing the window back down. Your heart almost stopped. He leaned down to your ear and said. Now what do you think you’re doing little girl? He asked darkly. Uhhhh. before you could come up with an answer. He had picked you up and put you over his shoulder. You squeaked Ah! You yelled. Put me down!- he did in fact put you down… just over his lap. No! You yelled. Oh hush. No need for a tantrum now. I’m not having a tantrum! I’m a grown woman and you can’t do this t- you were cut off by him putting his hand over your mouth. You tried to wiggle your way out but he easily lifted up your skirt. And you felt a warm hand on your bottom. His hand rose, and fell quickly, alternating cheeks. If there was anyone else in the house they would have definitely heard the loud smacks! Billy was giving you. And your muffled cursing. After about 4 minutes of him doing this you were about to cry. You tried to get away but to no avail. He easily pulled you back to position and gave you two extra hard slaps. And kept going. He finished soon after you started crying. Your bottom stung. Nobody had ever done this to you before. It didn’t hurt that bad but the humiliation hurt He brought you back up and sat you on his lap, you quickly adverted your eyes down as to not make eye contact. But he harshly grabbed your face smooshing your cheeks together, listen, he said dominantly like he was scolding a child. This or worse is gon happen every time you disobey me , you let out a light sob just thinking about it. So I’ll let you decide whether or not you want this kind of stuff to keep happening.

No I really do not you thought.

It was two days later when you ended up in this position again. Billy had jokingly bought you an embroidery kit. And you had not so jokingly told him to fuck off. So he threatened to wash your mouth out with soap… what ? You said. I said you better watch your tongue or I’m gon have to wash your mouth out. He said dominantly. You suddenly felt very wet.. and figured what’s the worst that could happen? There are other things of yours I’d like in my mouth more sir. You said in a lustful tone, while looking up at him from your spot on the bed. Literally two seconds later he was unzipping his pants, he used your mouth roughly holding your hair in a ponytail. After he had came in your mouth and regained himself. You stood up and grabbed his shoulders, pressing yourself against him your body asking him for more- huh? You thought as he quickly sat and pulled you down and back over his knee. W-wait Billy- you tried to protest as he cut he off. Hush. Was all you heard before your skirt was lifted and smacks rained down on your poor bottom. “Luckily” for you it was a lighter one than your first but you were still confused. He was spanking you like a disobedient child. Not like a woman that had just sucked him off. “I’m confused about us” you thought.

This is it for today I’m totally planning on making this a series so request anything that would make sense in the story line once I get a few I’ll write part two so the more yall request the faster I’ll write. Also if you guys want to make any mood boards more this id love it! Also my request have been a bit wonky lately so if it doesn’t seem to be working just dm me please! Thanks for reading!

#coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #spank me daddy #sir kink #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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biibini · 1 year ago

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Hii!! After mizu graduates college, what type of job do you think she'd have? Would it have to do with sports or maybe something way different? (I absolutely love your writing and headcanons !! 🩷🩷)

modern!mizu post-college life headcanons

tags: post-grad life, engineering mizu, stable work life, a woman in stem, moving in with reader, basketball with mizu, mizu join fencing club, peaceful post-grad life (the dream)

a/n: ngl the thought of post-college life is tripping me out,,, im a junior in college rn and the thought of it just kinda doesnt?? exist?? also ive heard too much info from my friends' rants ab their engineering degrees and switching majors from mechanic to electrical back to mechanical engineering,, theyre fucking nuts

modern!mizu would prob be in the engineering sector of jobs

wooo stem baby (i am a digital marketing major i should not be talking)

bc hello?? money???

also let’s use that mechanical engineering degree to good use

she didn’t leave home for nothing

with her technical skills from eiji

modern!mizu would probably be a CAD engineer

CAD aka computer aided design

technically speaking, it would allow her to work from home or hybrid

and she can easily transfer her mechanical and on-hand knowledge to a digital format

like she’s smart yall

she just got some troubles w procrastination

but dont we all?

(coping so hard)

this job would also allow her free time and flexible hours to do her job

and i feel like modern!mizu opts for a good work-life balance

if she wishes, she can take the day off snd just go out with u or go to the gym

the freedom of choice while staying comfortable at home?

sign her tf up

she can have her tea time, gym time, spending time w u time, and her self care time

the self care in question: enjoying the silence

and realistically, its a well paying job thatll keep her and u afloat while helping eiji financially if need be

modern!mizu hopes her work and smarts can help her provide for others and herself

its ab time she doesnt let herself depend on a man for money

yeah thats a fuck u to u, m*k*o

shes made the mistake once

shes not gonna make it again

just bc postgrad modern!mizu isnt in sports doesnt mean she’ll stop playing

she needs to get her exercise and movement some way some form

basketball with taigen

and always aim for the three-pointers

and is successful most of the time

and then proceed to aim for the half court shots

and fail most times

fencing with eiji whenever shes back home

she’ll def try to teach u

and its fun at first but

she wants to stretch her wings out

modern!mizu would prob join a fencing club

it would be a great for her to fully practice and spar

not just against her old man

or go soft w u

but also go against ppl her age

modern!mizu would move into a place w u

nothing grand but a small apartment where u could refresh and build the place to be ur own

ringo is a good friend

a true best friend she could trust

but it was time to move in w u

and not be wary of ringo hearing u when he comes home

modern!mizu would be more adventurous in hobbies

yeah she has basketball and fencing and her tea collection

but now she has a stable job

no need to worry about grades

and just to live life one step at a time

she would probably try out pottery with u

definitely practice her cooking with ringo's and ur help

all in all, a very patient life

(she deserves it)

#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ reqs for bini #mizu bes #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #bes mizu #blue eye samurai #mizu x y/n #mizu headcanons #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #modern mizu #modern mizu headcanons #modern au #blue eye samurai modern au

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grimoireofhayley · 2 years ago

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Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA (rape), Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ content, Stalking, Jealousy, Angst, Possessiveness, (let me know if there’s more that needs to be added!)

Word Count: 1.02k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @m-the-little-witch

A/N: Ah, I hope y’all feel lucky. Two chapters in one day! I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope I captured Randy, Billy, and Stu’s personality correctly. Thank you so much for reading! I’m hoping I’d get an update out tomorrow, but if not, it should be up later on this week at some point so keep an eye open. I also wrote this on my iPad, so I apologize if there’s any grammatical errors. I’ll proofread again tomorrow and put out an updated version. Oh, again, if you wanna be added to the tag list, just comment down below. Thank you :)

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Remember, your principal loves you, and I want you to be safe. All students are encouraged to return to their homes promptly from school grounds. Avoid strangers and walk in groups of two or three.” The principal spoke over the PA system.

Visibly stressed from the incessant questioning, you pinched the bridge of your nose. The source of your intense upset remained elusive. Although you were not the perpetrator, a peculiar sense of guilt persisted. Perhaps concealing your mistress past would have been prudent, as it could have prevented the revelation.

“I’m a slut,” you mumbled, dragging your fingers down your face and causing your eyes to droop. “Now, my friends are definitely going to find out. How am I supposed to confront them about that?” You asked no one in particular.

You fixed your gaze upon the azure expanse of the sky, momentarily squinting as the sun’s rays momentarily dazzled your eyes. “Have mercy on me, please?” you implored the man upstairs, anticipating no response in return.

“Sid, what kind of questions did they ask you?” You heard Tatum’s voice in the distance.

You composed yourself, made a raspberry sound, and approached your friend group at the fountain.

“They asked if I knew Casey…” Sidney’s voice soon followed.

“Hey everyone!” you chirped, sitting in front of Stu, Billy, Tatum, and Sidney. You unintentionally stopped their conversation.

“Hey, Sweetcheeks!” Stu blurted, his eyes glazing over and a small smirk planted on his lips. “What took you so long?” He groaned, “It’s always so boring when you aren’t here!” He frowned, tossing his head back.

“Gee, thanks, Stu,” Tatum snapped, causing you to giggle.

You glanced over at Billy, noticing Sidney leaning against his legs. Your face contorted in disgust as jealousy crept up on you. You mentally chastised yourself and looked away, back at Stu.

“Uh, they had me stay longer for questioning…” You admitted, leaning back against your bag and stretching out your legs.

“Huh? Why?” Billy asked, curiously.

“Yeah, why’s that?” Sidney mumbled.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“Just reasons, I guess.”

“Speaking of questioning, did they ask if you like to hunt?” Stu glanced at Billy and Randy, who had suddenly appeared.

“Yeah, they did. Did they ask you?” Billy asked, probing further. Randy nodded in agreement.

“Hunt? Why would they ask you if you liked to hunt?” Tatum voiced.

“Because their bodies were gutted.” Randy spoke up, shoving a peanut in his mouth.

“They didn’t ask me if I liked to hunt…” both Sidney and Tatum declared.

Stu glanced around, but his eyes kept landing on you, making you blush and chew on your fingernail.

“‘Cause there’s no way a girl could’ve killed ‘em..” Stu laughed.

“That’s bullshit. The killer could easily be female, basic instinct.”

“That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same thing…” Randy butted in.

“Yeah, Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. And the fact is, it takes a man to do something like that.” Stu grinned, still staring at you without realizing it.

You leaned in, placing your chin on the palm of your hand. “Really now? If that’s so, then why did they ask me if I liked to hunt, Stu?” You smirked, catching them all off guard. “Like Tatum said, the killer could easily be a girl. But with how they were killed, it was clearly a man. They’re all messy, like they like to play with their prey. A woman, on the other hand, knows how to get things done swiftly and cleanly. Why do you think they don’t get caught as easily?” You finished your statement, drumming your fingers across your lap in triumph.

“That was—I wasn’t expecting that,” Stu laughed loudly, bewilderment lingering around him like an aroma. Billy was just as shocked, but more amused.

However, Sidney wasn’t having it. “How… How do you gut someone?” She asked.

“You take a knife—“ Stu started and Billy looked up from his lunch. “And you slit ‘em from the groin to the sternum..”

“Hey.” Billy cut Stu off, glaring at him. “It’s called tact, you fuckrag.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Hey, (Y/n)..” Sidney asked, ignoring Billy and Stu’s former conversation.

Your ears perked and you looked at her confused.

“Didn’t you used to date Steve Orth?”

‘How could she have possibly known that?’ you thought, your ears turning red from anger and your fist clenched.

“Yeah, for like a couple of months..”

“Hold up, did I miss a chapter or something? When the hell did you date him?” Billy asked, looking somewhat pissed.

“Uh, yeah, I have to agree with Billy here.. when the hell did that happen?” Tatum’s eyes widened, she felt betrayed.

“Jesus, guys! It was only a couple of months. I don’t even know how Sidney found out,” you shot Sidney a glare.

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“Did you sleep with him?” Stu mumbled, starting to get irritated as well.

“All of you, please just shut up. It is not a big deal.” You demanded.

“Are the police aware that you dated the victim?” Randy asked, ignoring your pleas.

“Hey, what are you saying? That I killed both Casey and Steve?” Your mouth gaped at the accusation.

“It just makes sense,” Randy shouted, earning a few stares from passersby. “An ex-girlfriend who isn’t over the relationship and gets jealous seeing her lover with someone else… You know, the scorned ex who kills for revenge! It’s classic!”

“Hey, (Y/n) was with me last night.” Billy winked at you from behind Sidney.

“Indeed, I was…” You remarked, noticing Sidney’s gaze shift to you.

“Was that before or after you sliced them up?”

“Hold on, you went to (Y/n)’s after you came by my place? You said you were going to Stu’s!” Sidney flared her nostrils, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, brother…” You whispered, visibly distressed. As Sidney hurriedly packed her belongings, she did not allow you or Billy an opportunity to provide an explanation.

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#fanfiction #billy loomis x female reader #ghostface x female reader #stu matcher x reader #stu macher x female reader #billy x you x stu #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #ghostface #scream x reader #scream franchise #scream 1996

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gremlin-girly · 6 months ago

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Kinktober 21

Kink: Body Worship

Sweet Thing

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!curvy!reader

Warnings/tags: SMUT, insecurities, talk of weight/stretch marks/body rolls (all beautiful and sexy might I add), crying (not during sex!!), use of pet names (pumpkin, sweetness, goddess, baby, princess, sugar plum - i tried catching all of them lmao), breast/nipple play, oral (f recieving), squirting, thigh fucking (brief), mentions of tit fucking, p-in-v (unprotected - wrap it before you tap it!), slight tummy bulge, creampie, hint of possessiveness (it's Lloyd), allusions to punishment :)

Not beta'd and that's a warning. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. And as always, MDNI!

Summary: Feeling a little self-conscious, your boyfriend decides to show you just how much he loves your body.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Hello! I know it is slightly out of character for Lloyd but I thought to heck with it - let's have a little sugar to go with all this spice and all things nice. Originally, my plan was for a beefy/chubby Bucky but I'm saving it to post on another day because as I was writing I found myself wanting to do it justice. I am slowly crawling out of my 100+ drafts .... emphasis on slowly. Enjoy! - Love, Grem x

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

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You're looking in the mirror, stood in your underwear. You thought putting something nice would cheer you up but you just feel worse.

You grab at the soft flesh hanging over your pubic bone. What had someone called it? Fupa? Was it as attractive as people said? Because, right now, the only words you could remember were tyre, spare, top and muffin; and not necessarily in that order.

You huff, and turn to the side, your eyes narrowing as you catch sight of chubby biceps that you can't stand, then your eyes drift to the soft rolls that rest below your shoulder blades and above your hips. Perhaps you should make more of an effort to work out. Maybe not make so many baked goods. Maybe not eat so many sweet treats your boyfriend brings you, either.

But you love those sweet treats.

You can feel tears well and you sniff trying to fight them back but when your eyes drop lower, seeing silver and purple jagged stripes that run over the curves over hips and thighs, your tears flow freely.

You wipe at your face with your palms, careful to not smudge the mascara and eyeliner you'd so carefully painted on. This was not how you wanted your day to go. You wanted to dress in cute lingerie to surprise your sexy, moustachioed man... not cry over your pudge.

The slam of the front door startles you and you hurriedly sniff and fix your make up in the mirror. You didn't want Lloyd seeing you like this; today was not the day for feeling sorry for yourself.

"Sweetcheeks!" Lloyd calls, voice echoing down the halls.

"'M up here!" You call back, voice wavering more than you'd like. You clear your throat as Lloyd's heavy footsteps climb the stairs and when the bedroom door swings open, you try to give him a beaming smile.

Lloyd, as usual, comes bearing gifts. He holds a tray of expensive chocolates in one palm, grinning ear to ear, looking particularly delectable in his black turtleneck and slacks. He throws the box of chocolates onto the bed, striding towards you to wrap his arms around you and kiss along your exposed neck. You shiver in response and try to fight the urge to curl into him and feel sorry for yourself.

"How's my pumpkin today?" He murmurs, pulling back to give you a once over. "And what a nice surprise this is."

You give him a quivering smile but Lloyd sees through it immediately, eyes narrowing when he sees the redness of your waterline.

"Sweetness?"

You can't fight it anymore. More tears bubble up as you look up at Lloyd and your voice rises to that annoyingly choked tone as you speak.

"I just feel awful." You attempt to explain, wiping at your eyes with a sniff. "I just-"

Hate the way I look.

Your half glance at the mirror makes Lloyd add two and two, and he squeezes you that little but tighter.

"Oh, honey. You've got a body made to be worshipped." He murmurs against your skin, his moustache tickling across your shoulders as he showers you with light kisses. His blue eyes sparkle when they meet yours in the reflection of the mirror. "In fact, let me."

"Let you what?" You ask, trying to twist your head to chase his lips.

"Worship you."

Heat burns through your veins, arousal pooling immediatelyat the suggestion and you nod bashfully against his chest; your cheeks rouged and burning.

Before you can blink, Lloyd sinks to his knees before you, looking up at you with a smirk. His hands grip the plump flesh of your ass, making you squeak.

His adoring gaze drops to your stomach, kissing from your belly button all the way down to your clothed sex. You shiver, despite the heat you feel, and you watch Lloyd remove your lace panties delicately; letting you step out of them instead of ripping them away from you (for once).

Once your cunt is bared to him, he wastes no time in tasting you; his tongue dragging along your slit, circling your bundle of nerves teasingly before taking it fully into is mouth and sucking gently. You gasp and make an attempt to step back but Lloyd’s large hands squeeze the rounds of your ass again and pull you back to his mouth. He hums around your clit sending electric vibrations up your spine and you sigh with waning trepidation and rising arousal, running a hand through his short hair as he continues to bury his face between your legs.

"Your pussy always tastes so sweet," he sighs, lapping at your folds hungrily. "My sweet thing. My favourite thing to eat."

After what feels like an age, when you're mewling loudly with pleasure and steuggling to stand still, Lloyd pulls back and takes a satisfying breath. His moustache and lips glisten with your arousal and you can't help the throb of your pussy at how he looks right now; eyes blown, smirking beneath you, the outline of his hard cock visible in his slacks.

"Lay on the bed, gumdrop." Even though his tone is soft you can still hear the commanding edge underneath his panting and obey diligently. You lie back, watching as Lloyd abandons his clothes hurriedly to join you on the bed. You can taste yourself on his lips and moustache when you kiss him, and it drives you wild.

"You're built like a damn goddess, baby." He praises voice low. "And you're all mine."

Your heart thuds at his words but when you move to kiss him again Lloyd dodges you, opting instead to kiss down your neck, tugging your bra straps down you shoulders so he can free your tits without wasting time trying to remove your bra. The moment your tits are free from the skimpy lace, Lloyd’s mouth is on them, pressing them hard against eachother so he can suck both hardened nipples at once.

"Oh shit," You huff out. Your head leans into your pillow, your legs writhing with pleasure as Lloyd teases your nipples with his tongue the same way he toyed with your clit. Your core aches for a moment and, as if he had a sixth sense, Lloyd releases one hand to swipe his fingers at your folds before two of them plunge into your needy hole. "Lloyd!"

You can feel Lloyd smile around the breast he hadn't freed as he curls and pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy with intent. His teeth graze over your nipple as he moves to focus on the other he carelessly abandoned. You can feel your pussy begin to pulse as you moan and cling desperately to Lloyd, who doesn't let up for a moment, even when you start chanting his name.

"C'mon sweetness," He presses, swiping his thumb over your clit. "Give me what I want."

You cum with a cry, gushing over his fingers and soaking your thighs. Your brain goes fuzzy but you can hear Lloyd’s voice echoing praises as he prolongs your orgasm by drawing tight circles on your clit. You're vaguely aware of him moving away to slot between your legs, lifting them onto his left shoulder before yanking your hips downwards so your ass is against his strong thighs.

"See? Perfect hips to hold you in place when I eat you out. And they're just as good when I fuck you." Lloyd rumbles and you groan when you feel his cock press against the back of your wet thighs. He pushes his hips against your soft flesh, holding your legs against his chest as his cock slides between your thighs easily.

You both watch in awe as he fucks your slick thighs. After a few slow thrusts you can feel the sticky heat of Lloyd’s pre-cum coat the insides of your thighs and you squeeze them involuntarily, making Lloyd tip his head back and groan.

"Youre so perfect." He murmurs, blue eyes half-lidded in pleasure as he looks down at you. "My slice of heaven."

Lloyd takes your left ankle and moves it to his right shoulder, spreading your legs into the perfect v-shape. His arm wraps over your thigh, taking the tip of his cock and running it up your slick folds before tapping it against your clit.

"Fuckin' feel how hard I am for you, princess? Fuck."

You whimper in response and wiggle your hips in an attempt to get even closer to him. Lloyd drags his cock downward to align himself before giving you a quick smirk.

"Watch how well your pretty hole takes me, honey." He purrs, slowly pushing into you. Your eyes flutter as you feel every inch of him sink into you, chest heaving as Lloyd’s saliva grows cold over your tits. "Like you were made for me."

Lloyd’s movements languid at first; one strong hand gripping your right ankle, the other pushing down on your pubic bone so you can feel every drag of his cock against your walls. You whine out his name but he only presses lingering kisses to your calf in response, seemingly intent on not being rushed.

Lloyd sighs softly bottoming out inside of your pussy and, moving his hand on your pubic bone downward, swipes at your clit with his thumb again.

"Fuck, Lloyd," you gasp at him, your arms reaching for him. However, you drop them in favour of the sheets when Lloyd’s hips start to rock against yours at pace, biting back more moans.

"Look at this perfect body - taking my cock so fuckin' good." Lloyd growls, rutting into you. "Those hips, those thighs and - God - your perfect tight cunt..." Lloyd’s eyes glaze over as you constrict his cock, biting your lip sweetly up at him.

"And those tits," he groans, watching how they bounce as his thrusts become harder and more erratic. "Can't wait to fuck 'em too."

"Please," You pant arching your back off the bed. You can feel the tightness in your core about to snap, and Lloyd’s thumb on your clit is making you see stars. "Lloyd I'm gonna-"

"I know," Lloyd chuckles. "I'm not gonna deny my goddess anything. You can cum."

Your orgasm washes over you and you coat Lloyd’s cock with your cum, the legs on his shoulders quivering and you curse breathlessly. The wet sounds of Lloyd’s balls smacking against your sopping cunt and his growls of pleasure let you know he's not far behind. Your walls flutter and grip at his length, milking him for a few more strokes until he paints your insides with his cum.

His hair is slightly dishevelled and there's a sheen of sweat clinging to you both. It takes a few moments of heavy breathing for you both to regain some sort of consciousness but it's Lloyd who speaks first.

"My Aphrodite," he purrs. "All red faced and fucked out."

Even though he's acting smug, clearly proud of the state he's left you in, his eyes twinkle with that same loving gaze you'd taken note of earlier. Your heart swells and you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion sticking to your throat and making tears well once more, this time for another reason entirely. Lloyd looks a little surprised but when you reach for him, breaking into a happy grin, he sighs with relief and leans down into your arms. You giggle when you feel him kiss at your skin softly, his moustache tickling you yet again.

"Love you," you murmur, kissing his forehead your arms crossing around his neck.

"Love you too, gumdrop." Lloyd rumbles, squeezing your breast again making you gasp.

"Hey! That's not-" You're cut off as Lloyd tweaks your hardening nipple and you keen into his neck.

"Glad you're feeling better but I won't have anyone make my sugar plum cry." He says lowly, his eyes darkening. "And that includes you."

Your eyes grow wide your heart rate skyrocketing as Lloyd smirks down at you once more.

"I think punishment may be in order."

#gremlin girly writes #gremlin girly #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fic

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dinneronvenus · 2 years ago

Text

⭒ Shishiba x fem reader

⭒ tags: fluff for perverts • heavy petting • emotional foreplay • pda • exhibitionist Shishiba • reader is a “honeypot” spy • secret relationship • canonically disabled Shishiba • praise • pleasure d-m Shishiba • mild jealousy and possessiveness

⭒ umm I had no idea how to end this before it got too long lol my bad I may redo the ending but enjoy it for now. I did not proofread this either lol

Shishiba has a fierce set of ethics and rules about how he performs in his job. He doesn’t get upset when people close to him die because he knows that’s just the nature of the job. It’d be hypocritical to be upset at death when you kill people for a living. It’d be even more hypocritical to hate experiencing violence when you operate as violently as possible. Any feelings that conflicted with the nature of his work were deemed pointless, selfish, and ridiculous. He threw them away and fulfilled his duties without a shred of insincerity. Or he did before meeting you, anyway.

It’d been a few months since you’d turned him into a hypocrite. He still remembers your first meeting like it was yesterday. The way you sauntered into the Order’s dining room when the chairman gave his cue was burned into Shishiba’s mind. Your dress was pitch black and a perfect fit for your curvy body; accentuating all the right things. Your hair and makeup were flawless—he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking to your glossy lips as the chairman introduced you.

“She’ll be gathering intelligence from extremely high profile targets that have a weakness for the flesh.”

Suddenly the unbelievable beauty made sense. You’d essentially be used as bait and work in tandem with at least one member of the Order to eliminate targets when you weren’t gathering information. At first he resigned himself to not being able to pursue you at all, but after two missions with you he started convincing himself that something strictly physical wouldn’t be a problem. How shortsighted and stupid of him.

You two have been working your latest target for the last month, a ceo that turned out to be the host of a human auction, and not a second went by where jealousy didn’t try to consume Shishiba whole. Due to his low casualty rate and high discretion you were paired up often and for long stretches of time. He couldn’t bring himself to be rude or cold with you for too long but God knows he tried so hard to resist you in the beginning.

He tried to write you off, figuring your sweet personality and elegant demeanor were manufactured for your job. The more time you spent with him, the more he saw that you were a true natural charmer. In fact, he noticed that the way you speak to your targets and the way you speak to him differed only slightly. You didn’t praise him or stroke his ego in any way and never tried to manipulate his feelings or thoughts. That last part didn’t change when the two of you started fucking either. You weren’t shy about letting him know you enjoyed his mouth when it was clamped around your pussy and would even tell him you thought of him when you took targets to bed. The problem was that you did it so matter-of-factly. As if it should be obvious enough to not need saying that you enjoyed him more than the scumbags. He was desperate for the emotional side of you, even if it was fake.

Every second you spent in the hands of someone else was sandpaper to his soul. Hearing the playback of your intelligence gathering sessions made him want to tear someone apart. Your voice dripped with a cocktail of lust, respect, and adoration made specifically for the target. Flirty giggles punctuated your responses and the subtle, almost chaste physical affections you’d give them to solidify the fantasy often force him to disable the visual feed.

You were never so intentionally emotional with him and he refused to let yet another despicable man enjoy his idea of heaven without experiencing it himself. You came back to the safe house after your latest session with the ceo. Shishiba noticed that your hair was in a different style and your lips were swollen. He couldn’t help but picture you suckling on the fingers and cock of the ceo and had to turn away to hide his reflexive grimace. Your heels clattered against the floor as you slipped them off with a relieved sigh.

“Welcome back,” Shishiba said without facing you, choosing instead to make it seem like he was searching in the near-bare fridge for something. “Anything to report?”

“In three days there will be another auction. Our goal should be to identify the guests—specifically the bidders—and eliminate our current target. If we can set up to probe or eliminate others, that’s a bonus.” Your voice sounded softer than normal with exhaustion leaking through.

“Excellent work. We should go out to eat and celebrate.” Shishiba closed the fridge after coming out empty handed. “There’s nothing to eat here anyway.”

“Sounds good to me. It’ll be nice to spend time with someone who doesn’t make my skin crawl.” You said the last part more to yourself than to him but he saw an opening and took it.

“Such high praise,” he said sarcastically as he walked towards you slowly. He held his left hand out to you—two sleek black prosthetic fingers reflected the soft light—an offering of gentle affection. A code between you two ever since you first came close enough to notice he wasn’t just wearing a half glove. Genuine curiosity and concern for him gave your voice a comforting quality. He didn’t feel weaker or defective under your gaze. You didn’t probe him about how he lost the fingers. He extended his hand and you took it wanting a better look, next thing he knew he was taking off your clothes. Now every night he’s blessed to be inside you begins this way.

He nuzzled his face into your neck while his left hand interlocked yours and his right snaked around your waist. Your scent flooded his nostrils, your perfume an intoxicating mixture of sandalwood, marshmallow, chocolate, and coffee. Bittersweet and sharp, the best way to describe it and it’s wearer. You whined softly as his lips moved over your neck, soft licks and bites peppered between kisses.

“If you keep this—mhm—up any longer, anywhere decent to eat will close.” You failed to stifle a moan as his hand gripped your ass in the middle of your protest. “Let me shower and we’ll go.” Your right hand had found its usual home in his hair and as you pulled away you cupped his face. He kissed your cheek and shooed you off to the bathroom.

Shishiba gripped your thigh as he drove through the foggy streets. Once you two arrived at the restaurant he was the perfect gentleman, opening doors and pulling out your chair. The change of pace in men was refreshing. Sure, he enjoyed your body but he wasn’t disgusting about it and he wasn’t irredeemable like the men you usually see on the other side of the table. In fact, he was so sweet in secret that he made sugar look like salt. You had decided to order some lily raspberry sake for yourself since you didn’t have to see the ceo again for a few days. Shishiba didn’t think you drank at all, so this made him curious.

“Is it good?” He asked as you lifted the cup from your lips.

“Very, I’ll have to pace myself.”

“Lightweight?”

You gave him a soft “mhm” as you took another sip. Maybe you’d become surprisingly honest and he could ask you to give him exactly what he wanted. You two continued to talk and laugh even on the walk back to the car. It felt like a real date to both of you, but you wouldn’t be the first to admit it. As he opened the car door so you could get in, you ran your index finger across his jaw and gently traced a small circle around his scar. He didn’t want to, but he pulled away from your touch and stared at you hard. The immediate pout you gave him nearly disarmed him though.

“Don’t look at me like that. Someone could see us.”

“Who cares who sees anything?” You locked eyes with him and watched his cheeks turn light pink.

“You’re drunk. Get in the car, please.” You pouted again but complied. He shut the door and got in the driver’s seat. He didn’t reach for the keys or anything—he just stared at the steering wheel for a second. You got nervous that pretending to be more intoxicated than you actually were was backfiring, so you went to tell him but he cut you off with a confession of his own.

“I… Will you talk to me the way you do your targets?” He blurted out but didn’t look at you. Now you feel like maybe you did drink too much.

“What do you mean?” You tiled your head in genuine curiosity and reached out to touch him so he’d look at you.

“You know. The way you talk to them with desire and passion…” He looked like he was asking you to do something so unspeakable. It made you giggle a bit.

“You want me to be sweet to you?” You had a fire building in the pit of your stomach, you let genuine desire coat your throat before you spoke again. “Oh, Shishiba… why didn’t you ask me sooner? You know I’ll do anything you ask me.” You let lust soak every last bit of your speech and his reaction was priceless.

“Yknow… you’re really dangerous.”

That’s all he could manage to say before his lips crashed against yours. Your tongues didn’t dare part before it was necessary. You slid across the bench seat to snuggle into his arm, making sure to gently press your breasts into him. He started the car and drove in the direction of the safe house. He had his right arm around your shoulders, occasionally ghosting his fingers over your neck—he knew that teasing touches really turned you on and the sake wasn’t helping at all.

“Shishiba,” you cooed up at him. “I can’t wait, will you pullover?”

His eyes flicked towards you and then back to the road. His silence was deafening and that intense look on his face made you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of getting some relief. His fingers brushed over your neck and ear again as the car peeled onto the gravel of the roadside. He cut the headlights off and then turned to face you completely. His expression was hard to read. The eyes were still lustful but his telltale smirk was nowhere to be found. You reached for him and he grabbed your hand only to set it down on the seat with his loosely in it. A sigh left him and you could feel rejection threatening to bubble up in you when he finally spoke again.

“You remember the rules we agreed to follow with each other? What’s gotten into you?” He wasn’t actually scolding you but it sure felt like it. You had two options now: answer him seriously or double down on his request.

“Nothing besides you,” you replied while looking at him through your lashes. “Maybe we should change the rules. Or just break them.” You let your fingers dance against the palm of his hand. Everything about you made it hard for him to think rationally. His eyes roved over your face and body with more feelings than he’d ever had before.

“Then let’s start with the one that keeps me from telling you,” In one fluid motion he had a grip on your chin and was running his thumb over your bottom lip. “How beautiful you look when you beg me not to stop.”

He kissed you before you could say anything else. Hands roamed your body hungrily and squeezed away as they traveled to your chest. His words made your entire body hotter than the sake did. You leaned against him and spread your legs more, hoping he’d read your mind. He laughed at your desperation for his touch. He gave you the relief you wanted, slipping his fingers past your panties and swiping them over your clit and folds.

“You’re soaked already. Did you miss me that much?” He chuckled lowly as you moaned in reply. Once he slipped his fingers inside, you knew it’d be a long time before you made it back to the safe house.

#fanfiction #sakamoto days #shishiba x reader #shishiba sakamoto days #shishiba #one shot

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haliotropes · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiii hii hi over here!! I loooved stitches!! They way you wrote Mark was perfect imo, capturing his sonewhat standoffish but human side. Awesome job!!

Can I request one where Mark is reader's best friends's dad?? AU or not but he's still an officer

Pretty please with a cherry on top? ♥

Okay we're fudging math a little with this one. We'll clock reader at 22 and Mark at...44. there, twice the age without making it too weird.

I really love this prompt and its challenge to dodge some cliches. And then roll around in some like a little piggy in the mud. Little pig boy comes from the dirt. Sorry I blacked out there for a second.

-·=»◆‡«=·-♡·=»◆‡«=·-

Is It Justice? (Mark Hoffman x F!Reader)

Tags/warnings: older man/ younger woman, manic depressive disorder, moments of deep vulnerability, questionable choices, kissy kissy, mentions of death and grief, hurt/comfort

Rated: M (I think? I started to go cross eyed writing this)

Mark sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Again. Again?

He knows he should be grateful it's you and not his son. But Sam would never, ever be caught in this compromising a position. But you had seemed to lack any sort of stern parenting in your life. His son had no shortage of that.

Okay, so he hadn't always been a perfect father, but he was a good cop. But tonight, as it had so many times before, the line became blurry. And a third role had begun to emerge, and it was bad enough that each time he had half a mind to pawn you off on someone else.

But it didn't feel right. No one would take responsibility for you, nobody would claim you. He may as well.

That's how he ends up in front of the holding cell at 3 in the morning. He's still dressed from work because he hadn't left the station yet. His son was (he prayed) still sleeping soundly in his apartment off Princeton's campus. The same could clearly not be said for you. You are in the same baggy clothes you're usual donning, dark circles decorated your undereyes. If he didn't know any better, he'd think you're on something hard.

Your eyes don't light up like he expects them to each time you're both in this situation. It's almost like a kin to dread, or pure exhaustion.

"If you're that inconvenienced, commit a crime closer to a different precinct," he mutters as the night shift cop slides the barred door open and you step through, just narrowly avoiding Mark's large frame and he follows behind you. At the booking station, Helen presents your possessions back to you.

"One cell phone, a wallet with a driver's license, library card, fortune ticket and father's credit card-we've already called- a pack of cigarettes and a Bic lighter."

You grab it all and shove it into the deep pockets of your jacket. Mark nods in gratitude at Helen and when you turn to the direction of the exit, Mark has a firm hand on your shoulder and he's steering you towards his office.

You've been in Mark's office a couple other times. Once, when you and Sam first moved in together and he wanted to introduce you to his father, and once for the first time you and the holding cell had become acquainted. The two other times you'd ended up at the police station, you'd been lucky enough to avoid this room again. But not this time.

You shake your head and slump in one of the chairs as Mark closes the door behind him. He sighs heavily and drops himself into his desk chair, and for a moment you both sit in your shared exhaustion.

"Does Sam know where you are?" His voice is groggy when he speaks. You pick at the chipped paint on your nails.

"Hope not. I left after he fell asleep. I don't like to make him worry when I leave."

Mark smirks humorlessly and stares at the ceiling tiles.

"How considerate."

"Just don't bail me out next time."

"Oh don't worry. I won't. There better not be a next time. But if there is, you'll get no help from me."

His eyes are staring sternly into your own now. You didn't have much to be proud of anymore, but you could always be proud of managing to hold Mark Hoffman's stare.

"I don't have a report. I'm tired. Can I go home?"

"You got money for a cab?"

"No."

"A subway pass?"

"I'll hop the guards."

"Like hell you will. Fine," he pushes himself up from his seat and throws on his jacket. "Come on. I'm driving you home."

You have half a mind to put up a useless fight but you're too tired, so instead you follow silently out to the parking lot and climb into the passenger side of Mark's car. He gets in and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

"When was the last time you ate?"

You shrug. Mark curses under his breath and starts the car.

"Fine. Food first."

A half hour later, you and Head Detective Mark Hoffman are sitting outside a 24/7 bodega, devouring sandwiches and a couple of sodas. You don't even mind that the food isn't hot, you're just glad to have something on your stomach.

"Alright, so," Mark wipes his mouth and clasps his hands together. "Trespassing?"

"It didn't hurt anybody."

"Nobody but yourself."

"I'm fine."

"You know they've been exploding deeper into that quarry, right? What if you'd gone near some active explosive? Or tripped in the dark and fell 250 something feet?"

"Then Mom would have some company."

He fights the urge to grab you, only to shock the thoughts from your head. But he's too shocked.

Your mother disappeared seven months ago. Five months ago, she was found at the bottom of the quarry outside of town. Maybe it was murder, maybe it was accidental. Either way, there was a closed casket.

You almost feel guilty for the way you've stunned mark into silence, but the feeling passed quickly.

"How would your father feel if he knew that's where you were tonight?"

"He'd have to be sober enough to comprehend a single thought. My money's on the likelihood that he's in no such state."

"Fine. What about Sam?"

"I won't tell if you don't."

"Well, I've got half a mind to."

You chuckle and feel the tears prick at your eyes. "Heh. Right, just pawn me off on him. Great fathering techniques, Mark. Seriously. I'll not just become someone else's problem, but your son's. My best friend's. And soon he'll get fed up and drop me, too."

"Enough with the pity play."

"Why? It's all true. You don't give a shit so it's not like I could guilt you."

Mark crumples up his sandwich wrapper with ire and tosses it into a nearby bin. He straightens out his trousers and stands. Stares down at you. From here, you look like a stranger. Not a girl, not his son's roommate and best friend, not a woman on the verge of unravelling, but some other being that has attached itself onto his heart and follows him around like a curse.

He'd loved you for a while. He'd hated you for just as long. The way you drag yourself down, the way you endanger Sam along the way. But the way you smile and how you shine when you have your shit together- there were as many good memories as bad ones in the short span of time you'd known each other.

He can't decide who he's looking at and doesn't stop staring until you look up at him. He shakes his head, looks out onto the street, then offers a hand to help you up. You take it without hesitation and you both get back into the car.

"I really don't wanna take you back to the apartment."

"I don't wanna go back. To wake up Sam is bad enough the day before finals, but to do it with his dad in tow is not much better."

Mark grumbles. "Couch?"

You nod. "Couch."

You've done the couch routine one other time, and it wasn't any of the times you'd been arrested. This incident was midwinter, during one of your episodes where you decided to walk in the freezing snow with no direction. Sam had called Mark in a panic, Mark knew your routes well enough to find you quick. It was closer to go back to his place, and he made careful work of warming you up and assuring Sam that you were safe. After that, you and Mark formed a mutual understanding that the less Sam knew, the better.

Mark's apartment was that of the poster child for a bachelor. After Sam went off to Princeton, Mark and his wife had nothing keeping their tenuous marriage together so the divorce was quiet and amicable. Now, Mark works too much to seek any remedy to that.

All that being said, Mark keeps his place nice, and his leather couch beckons you immediately. You collapse onto it and you can hear Mark halt over you.

"You're gonna sleep in jeans?"

"I didn't pack my overnight bag," you mumble into the material. Mark sighs. Leaves the room, comes back, tosses a bundle of clothes on top of you. You sit up and unfold them. PPD sweatpants and a faded t-shirt.

"How scandalous," you mutter, too tired to censor your words.

"Be uncomfortable for all I care."

Mark busies himself with removing his tie and you stand and hobble to the bathroom to change. From the kitchen area he can hear you sniffle and cough, changing otherwise quietly before reentering the living room. His breath hitches when he sees you in his clothes. He can't remember the last time he saw you in something that actually fit but clothes always left plenty to the imagination. And Mark did imagine.

You rub your eyes and stumble to the kitchen sink, grabbing a coffee mug and filling it with water. He watches as your throat strains when you devour the water like you were born thirsty. You'd just had a soda, but of course you're dehydrated. You don't take care of yourself during your episodes. He knows it just kills Sam. He knows, because he feels the same way.

He can't understand why you and Sam never became an item, even for a brief time. He was proud to call Sam his son, the way he's smart and kind, and you're funny and intelligent when you decide to be, and beautiful. So beautiful. Whether you're made up and presentable or on his couch, in his clothes, looking like death.

He only realizes he's staring when he blinks and you're staring back from the sink.

"Mark?"

He squeezes his eyes shut and yawns. "Sorry. Tired. You know where everything is if you need it."

"Yeah," you say, but your voice is thicker than it should be. It's no mystery that Mark Hoffman is an attractive man. Gruff and grumpy and yet does everything in his power to take care of you. Sam does the same, but you're so scared of ruining him. You don't run that risk with Mark.

You can't ever pin down exactly what it is you like so much about him. Maybe it's his thick arms and large hands, or his dumb hair, or his asshole smirks and the way his praise and compliments light you up inside. How he talks to you like an equal, even in these times. Everyone walks on eggshells around you. He's a hardass. You love him for it.

Mark senses a shift and taps the counter decisively.

"Listen-"

"No," he shakes his head. "No, don't."

But you stand and he doesn't move.

"I'm not doing anything."

Except you are. You're moving towards him and he can't find the strength to move away.

"It's too late to do this-"

"Do what?" You ask in faux innocence. You're not the teasing type, but you're just desperate to know if he'll fess up or not. You already know you're screwed.

"You know."

You bite your lip and take a small satisfaction when the movement captures his eyes.

"Mark, no one sees me like you do."

"That's not true," he lies.

"It is, but it's okay."

You place your hands on his chest and he stops breathing. Doesn't move.

"So long as you know, I don't do it for attention. I've been this way before I ever met you or Sam."

"I know," he says breathlessly.

"Do you want to touch me?" You ask. He exhales and trembles. He's only thought about it shamefully in the dark of his bedroom or his office about a hundred times. To caress the sides of you that he suspects have gone untouched for too long. To hold you gently and yet assure you that no one else will be touching you for a long time.

He's quiet for too long. You take a hand and bring it under the shirt that swallows your torso, sliding his palm against your tummy. He exhales through his nose.

"I want you to touch me. And I want to touch you."

His hand burns onto your soft skin and you continue to move it up until his fingers grace the curve of your breast.

And just like that he yanks his hand back and stands, pushing away from you.

"Mark-"

"Go to sleep. Don't think about this anymore."

Easy enough for him to say. You both know that you'll go to your respective beds (well, bed and couch) and you'll be kept awake by the thought. But you don't argue. Only watch as he stalks down the hall and fights with himself, until he closes the bedroom door behind him. You sigh and lay down on the couch, grabbing a nearby throw blanket but deciding you're too hot for it right now.

And in his room, Mark paces the floor. He slowly removes one article of clothing after the other, ends up sitting on the edge of his bed in a shirt and boxers, fingers pressed to his lips, eyes glued to the door.

He's waiting for you. If you come knocking, he'll let you in. But he can't go to you. He can't. That would seal his fate.

But the thought of you so warm and ready for him, so inviting and strong willed...his resolve is wavering.

And it doesn't take fifteen minutes before he's walking back to the couch.

And you rise and meet him halfway, and there's only a moment's hesitation before his lips crash into yours and his hands are returning to where you'd placed them before. Mark will convince himself that you initiated the kiss. You'll let him have that lie. Whatever seals your fate together. Whatever keeps you both coming back together.

#mark hoffman #fanfiction #mark hoffman x reader #saw fanfic #reqs open

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i-arch-my-backula · 6 months ago

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Immortal Lovers chapter three

Hello everyone, sorry about the delay in getting this (and any) writing out. Everything with the election and also some personal family stuff got in the way. Anyway I hope to have another chapter for this fic out by Christmas or even sooner. Also this chapter has some smut at the very end that isn't super important. But otherwise the rest of this chapter is sfw.

Content Includes: Google translated French, anal sex, oral sex, M/M/M threesome, reader is a bottom

‘You don’t have to act around us cheri’ The words echo and bounce around in your mind, creating this endless chatter with all these other words filling your head. You visited Louis and Lestat four days ago but you haven’t stopped thinking about them since. They haven’t tried to reach out and you haven’t either. If they really could read your mind then they know by now what you are.

“Are you alright?” Mary Ann asks, looking at you from across the table at the restaurant where the two of you are sitting. You hum and raise your brows while looking at her. She still doesn’t know that you’re attracted to men, but you don’t know if you’ll ever build up the courage to actually tell her that. You just sip on your coffee and flash her a smile.

“Oh yes I’m fine. Just had to work late last night ironing all these suits for my boss.” You say with a chuckle. She smiles back and nods her head, sipping on her own tea.

“Well I heard there’s a performance happening soon. This wonderful singer is coming all the way here from New York. Well she’s going around the whole country but she’s coming here and performing for a couple of nights. She’s a jazz singer and I’ve heard she’s phenomenal.” Mary Ann says, setting down her cup and looking around at the people walking by this cafe during a cool afternoon.

“We should go see her perform then. What’s her name?” You ask, pulling out a pen and a small slip of paper. Mary Ann fishes inside her purse and pulls out a flier filled with tour dates and names of cities.

“Her name is Julia Scott. She’s coming here in a couple of days and I think they’re already selling tickets for her show, down at the theater she’ll be singing in.” Mary Ann says, handing you the flier. Taking it from her hand you write down the date and theater the show will be taking place. You smile and hand her back the flier. “We should probably get the tickets early so we aren’t stuck waiting in a long line for hours only to not get to see her or something.

“Can you buy tickets early? I wasn’t really aware you could do that.” You say, drinking more of your coffee, wiping off your mouth with a napkin. Mary Ann nods her head and folds up the flier, putting it in her pocket book.

“At least that’s what I heard you can do with this show. I’m not too sure about other things but for this you can get tickets in advance. But I think you can do that with other things too.” She says, sipping more of her tea before setting down the cup. “I think rich folks do it all the time with the opera and plays and whatever else they watch instead of working.” She says with a chuckle, making you chuckle too.

You feel a pair of eyes on you, ones that aren’t Mary Ann’s. Looking around the cafe you don’t see anything unusual. Some people smoking, eating, drinking coffee and tea. One man has his face hidden behind a newspaper. But he’s just reading it. What’s so strange about that? You look away from the crowd and go back to speaking with Mary Ann.

“We should go do that. Get those tickets for her show, maybe even see a silent film while we’re at the theater. I have some errands I need to run too and I don’t feel like doing them alone if you want to tag along with me for today.” You say, pulling out a couple dollars for your coffee and Mary Ann’s tea. She smiles and stands up, finishing off her tea.

“Oh that sounds great. I’d hate to waste today being alone. Being a librarian I spend enough time alone as it is. I’ve probably got more dust in my lungs than I do actual air.” She jokes, pushing in her chair as you push in yours, the two of you leaving the cafe, the man reading the newspaper folding it up and setting it down on his table.

Making your way through town you stop at a grocery store, picking up more razor blades for your shaving. You pay the cashier your couple of cents and Mary Ann keeps the razors in her purse as the two of you head back out into town.

“Do you need to get anything done today? Get your permanent wave set again or something?” You ask, giving her a small grin. She rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“Being a woman in today’s society is hard enough as it is. Can you really blame me for wanting to keep myself looking as presentable as possible? Especially when a friend of my mothers runs a beauty salon and she gives me a discount when I go in to get my haircut and nails painted and permanent waves? Getting these curls is such a difficult task, I don’t understand how anyone can do it on their own unless they’re a hair stylist.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest.

You just laugh and pat her shoulder, shaking your head a little.

“I didn’t mean to be rude, Mary Ann. I’m sorry that I made you upset. But can you really blame me for teasing you just a little bit about just how much you care about your appearance?” You ask, your tone is still light and a bit giggly. She shakes her head and slaps your arm playfully.

“I swear that you’re going to make my hair turn gray Y/N.” She says. But soon the two of you reach the theater you were speaking about earlier and you go up to the box office, getting two tickets for Julia Scott’s performance, and two tickets for a film. You walk inside and sit down together in the dark quiet theater, enjoying the movie.

When you emerge from the theater the sun is starting to set. But that doesn’t stop the two of you from keeping up this day of fun. So the two of you set out into a park, talking about the movie you saw. Then, once you two run out of things to say about that movie, you go onto talking about life.

“So not to brag or nothing, but you know that my father is a big business man. He’s business partners with this other man on this new automobile company. You’ve seen them being driven around town everywhere and stuff. And because he helped me get myself a job I’m thinking about buying myself a home.” She explains to you, pushing her scarf over her shoulder.

“Really?” You ask, she hums in response and nods her head. “So you’re really serious about buying a home here Mary Ann?” You ask again, putting your hands in your coat pockets. She beams widely and nods her head, slipping on her gloves.

“Why yes I am. Now I know they won’t exactly just let me buy it, because I’m a woman, but I can assure you that my father is going to help me with this. I’ve already found the most wonderful little house, nothing huge but for my first home of my own it’s going to be great.” She says in a chirpy tone, adjusting her gloves. You chuckle and nod your head, looking around casually at the park around the two of you.

“Well I wish you the best of luck with this little endeavor of yours. I need to save up for a couple more years before I can even start to come close to-” You cut yourself off, hearing something behind you. Footsteps, nothing wrong with that, nothing out of the ordinary with that. But it’s just you and Mary Ann out here, you haven’t actually seen anyone else out here for you don’t know how long.

“Is everything alright?” She asks, looking at you with raised eyebrows. You keep listening to the sounds of footsteps. You’re walking, you can hear that. Marry Ann is walking, you can hear that. Then there’s another person walking. It’s probably nothing, your mind is just telling you the worst case scenario or something. But to be safe you look over your shoulder and find someone walking behind you, someone whose face is hidden behind the brim of a hat. They seem oddly familiar to the person you saw earlier at the cafe.

Mary Ann looks behind you too and sees what you see. She grabs your arm in her hand and pulls you closer together with her.

“I’ve seen him lurking around your apartment. We should get back to town.” She whispers to you. You nod your head and link arms with her formally, walking together, trying to ignore the presence of the mystery man behind the two of you. But the silence between you and Mary Ann makes your ears ring so you start talking again.

“Did I tell you I bought a gun recently?” You ask, keeping your voice at a normal tone, not caring if this mystery man hears you or not. You need to let Mary Ann know at the very least. She shakes her head and keeps walking, her slightly heeled shoes clicking against the pavement of the park path as you two round a corner, seeing the shining lights of the city up ahead.

“You haven’t told me that yet but I think it’s a wonderful idea. You can never be too careful around here, especially with all this crime recently. But it’s not as bad as other places in this country I’ve heard about. So many big cities are always having trouble with crime.” She says, holding onto your arm tighter as the footsteps of the man following behind you can still be heard.

“Well it just comes with the territory I guess. More people means more things are bound to happen. But safety is important to me. Maybe you should look into getting one too. Just to be safe. I’m sure your father would approve of it.” You say, walking closer to the edge of the park until you finally reach the sidewalk outside of it. The footsteps of the mystery man behind you die off and you feel the pressure of held in air leaving your lungs.

You and Mary Ann turn the conversation over to who that man could be, what he could want from either of you.

“Maybe he’s after me since my father has that new business and stuff. You know, kidnapping the daughter of a rich man to get some ransom money.” She says, unlinking arms with you as you walk up the steps towards your apartment. You get to the door and see another note taped there. You look at Mary Ann who shares your anxious expression. You slowly pick up the paper and flip it open.

Dear Y/N,

We’ve been a bit disappointed at your disappearance after our conversation from almost two weeks ago. We hope that you’d like to join us again tonight, maybe bringing Mary Ann along if she’d like to come as well.

Sincerely, Louis De Pointe Du Lac and Lestat De Lioncourt

“Are you up for another little adventure tonight?” You ask, handing over the paper to Mary Ann, letting her read it. A smile creeps onto her face, soon blooming into a full, toothy grin. She takes your hand and leads you back down the stairs, heading out the door of your apartment building again.

After more excited chatter from her you reach Louis and Lestat’s townhouse. You ring the doorbell, looking over at Mary Ann who’s still grinning from ear to ear.

“I can’t wait to see how they decorate inside. Maybe I can get some tips from the two of them.” She says with a chuckle. You chuckle back and soon Lestat opens the door. He smiles at the two of you and steps aside, letting you both in.

“What a pleasure to see the two of you again. I’m so happy you could join us tonight, Mary Ann.” He says, leading you two inside. Louis is sitting on one of the couches in the parlor, smiling as the two of you walk in.

“I’m happy to see that you two have made it.” He says, getting up and shaking both of your hands. Lestat takes your coats before you and Mary Ann sit down on the couch across from Louis.

“Oh, your house is just wonderful.” Mary Ann says, crossing her legs as she looks around the parlor. “I love how luxurious everything here feels. All of the wood, and the colors. It makes me happy just being in a room like this.” She says with a beaming smile. Louis smiles back as Lestat enters the room.

“Yes, well Lestat is the one who did most of the decorating here. He has a keen eye for designs.” Louis says as Lestat walks around the room, moving over to the fireplace, a couple of logs burning inside.

“Some of this has come with me from Paris. Others have been acquired from my years of living here. All of it I enjoy.” He says, straightening a little wooden box on the fireplace mantel. You nod your head and lean back on the couch. You don’t pay much attention to what Louis, Lestat, and Mary Ann are discussing as your mind starts to wander. Their home smells wonderful tonight. Something warm and inviting. Like someone has just finished baking something.

Then your mind wanders to the suits that Louis and Lestat are wearing, perfectly tailored to their bodies, accentuating their builds. As your eyes move back to Louis, you can’t help but wonder what lies under his clothes. Your eyes glance at Lestat, then down to his lower half, wondering what lies under his clothes too.

‘Whatever you want and more.’ He says without moving his lips, giving you a wink while watching the conversation between Louis and Mary Ann. You’re brought out of your little daydream and return to what she is saying.

“But I never knew that so many talented artists lived so close to home. So I had to convince my father and friends to go out and support these people. I mean their art is just so incredible.” She says as Louis nods his head. Mary Ann clears her throat and stands up. “I need to power my nose, excuse me.” She says.

“The bathroom is down the hall and to the left.” Louis says as Mary Ann nods. She leaves the parlor and the sound of her heels on the floor grow more and more distant until a door shuts. Slowly, Lestat walks behind you. The room takes on a new tenseness that makes it feel like it’s one gentle push away from snapping in half.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Lestat says, his hands moving to rub your shoulders. Louis just looks at you with his piercing green eyes, slowly unbuttoning his waist coat. You just sit there, dumbfounded, totally unsure of what to do. “Oh come now chéri, don’t be afraid. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to talk with you. Find out why you’ve been avoiding us. Isn’t that right Louis?” He asks, both you and Lestat moving to look at the man on the other side of the room.

Louis rises from his seat and nods his head, sitting down next to you as Lestat’s hands move to play with your hair.

“If you’re worried about what we did together the last time you were here I can promise you that we didn’t mean to scare you. You’re just a very handsome man,” Louis raises his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb running over your bottom lip. “We just wanted you to know that we’re interested.” You can feel yourself getting drawn into whatever these two men are trying to pull on you. Whatever kind of thing they want from you, you can’t resist.

So slowly you open your mouth and let Louis put his thumb inside. You start to suck on it as Lestat unbuttons your waistcoat, that anxiety from before pushed aside for the pleasure you’re about to receive. You move your arms as Lestat slides your waistcoat off, his hands moving to his own coat and shirt. Louis’ thumb is replaced by his lips and you two begin to kiss, his lips cold and tasing a bit metallic. But you don’t mind as your hands undo your shirt and Louis undoes his.

Eventually, you pull away, looking up at Lestat, who’s now taking off his belt, then back down at Louis.

“What about Mary Ann?” You ask, Lestat drops his pants and undershorts in reply, exposing his body. But Louis’ answer is more verbal.

“Don’t worry about her. She won’t come in on us.” Then he leans in again and starts to kiss you. Lestat comes around behind you and starts to undo your belt, mumbling French into your ear.

“Tu vas le prendre comme un bon garçon, n'est-ce pas ? Soyez si bon pour Louis et moi. Vous pouvez le faire. Vous vous sentirez si bien. Nous avons de tels sites à vous montrer.” He says, the words vibrating in your ear as his lips move down to your neck. He bites you slightly, drawing a little blood. You grunt at the sudden prick but the pain quickly subsides as Lestat takes his teeth out of your neck.

Lestat slides off your pants and underclothes as Louis slides off his own, the three of you now naked together in their parlor. Louis is already hard, his hand pumping his length as you look down at it. Slowly you move your face towards it. Head down ass up. You look up at Louis as your lips hover over his tip. He gives a nod of his head and you move your mouth over his length, shutting your eyes. He lets out a grunt and puts a hand on the back of your head to guide you.

“Yeah~ Thats it~ Fuck~” He grunts, savoring your mouth on his cock. Lestat moves away momentarily before returning.

“Are you open for another tonight Mon cher?” He asks, slowly pouring a warm oil over your waiting hole. By the smell of it, it’s liquid coconut oil. You moan around Louis cock and Lestat gives you a small, sharp, spank. “Use your words.” He says, using his fingers to rub the oil around your waiting area.

You momentarily move your mouth off of Louis’ cock. “I want you to fuck me Lestat.” You say, looking back at him. He smiles and nods his head. As you go back to Louis, you feel two fingers penetrate you. You moan around Louis’ cock as Lestat starts with his slow movements, easing you in, getting you ready. What a gentleman.

As Louis’ grunts and groans get deeper Lestat slowly pushes himself into you. You moan again around his cock as Lestat goes slow and steady, making sure you’re comfortable as he slides in and out of you.

“My boys seem to be enjoying themselves.” Lestat teases, his words laced with his moans as he slowly picks up the pace, working into a comfortable rhythm with your motions on Louis.

“Il est très bon. Il faudra qu'il vous le montre un jour.” Louis says in a teasing tone to Lestat. The blonde chuckles and gives you another little spank, earning another moan from you.

“Je ne peux pas attendre.” Lestat replies, his movement as he works making you go weak in the knees, your mouth working harder around Louis’ cock. He groans and moves one of his hands onto your shoulder, the grip tight. You can taste his precum as his eyes shut and Lestat keeps up his movements. Soon enough Louis thrusts his hips into your face harder as he comes. Lestat slows his movements for a moment as you swallow and pull yourself off of Louis. Adjusting your position, Louis having it so that your face rests against his chest, Lestat starts up again.

You moan and pant, your eyes half shut as Lestat moves his hips forwards and back, his own arousal present too. Both men are cold to the touch, but to you, in that moment, they felt like a warmed blanket on a cold winter day. It’s not long before you feel your orgasm coming.

“Oh fuck~ Oh yeah~ Don’t stop~” You moan as soon enough you hit your peak and you come, Lestat following soon after. Louis slides some of your hair out of your face while Lestat pulls himself out of you. He grabs a rag and wipes himself clean.

“Relax your body now. You don’t want to pull a muscle.” Lestat says, lowering your ass to the couch so you lay with Louis. Lestat comes around to the other man. Louis adjusts for him and the three of you sit together, coming down from your highs.

#lestat de lioncourt x reader #louis pointe du lac #louis x reader #Louis x reader x lestat #interview with the vampire

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somehowmags · 2 years ago

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also honestly, girl at an all boys school has been such a common trope for YEARS like. i know not everyone is insane like i was and went through a gacha phase but the fandom was literally 1/5 built off a girl mc in an all boys school trope. obviously we were all kids when we made it so gacha mvs weren't the best for the portrayal of nuanced, gendered issues or specifically, proper handling of misogyny for the matter but like. the theme itself definitely not weird as bad as people think. yuu literally got their asscheeks yoinked to an alternate world them being a girl is the least of their concerns. if any thing, it can be more interesting to see how characters differently interact with yuu and come to build positive, intimate and meaningful relationships with her especially as guys who have had limited interactions with girls, so both yuu and the characters learn from each other putting aside the main character development in the storyline. adding onto the feeling of the divide yuu would feel at the beginning as someone who's both from another world and of another gender in nrc. these girl in an all boys school plots often end up as a harem story where the mcs are just a blank slate in the character drama. and i hate it cause most of the times it ends up perpetuating the notion that guys can never be friends with girls due to romantic or sexual interest electing the girls as either someone to possess in a relationship or someone not suited to them at all, just generally being misogynistic pricks, or actually being a decent friend to a girl is humiliating and a sign of inferiority. or girls just aren't as interesting. my best friend is the lesbian to my gay twink and building relationships with people fundamentally different than you can be so, so beautiful and fulfilling. i love seeing girls and guys just being HOMIES!!! seeing fem yuu's learn and stumble and grow with the nrc and just. overall people drawing and writing their yuu's with their favorite character is like fuck, speak your truth man. to be honest i was mainly speaking about the inexperienced first years but just any character. malleus, lilia, vil, etc etc. let's go yuu nation

tdlr its a really intriguing dynamic and allows for a lot of possibilities a fan could think of. masc yuu's are great, gn yuu's are great, fem yuu's are great. some twsties need to LET OTHER twsties just enjoy their whimsical thoughts.

YES YES YES YES EXACTLY AGREEING WITH ALL OF THIS!!!! having a girl in an all boys school or a boy in an all girls school has been a trope for years, and sure sometimes it is used for uh. fanservice. but when it is properly explored it can be a really interesting trope!

i saw someone say once (before yuuka came out) that there shouldn't be an official fem yuu because then the studio would HAVE to canonize a yuu ship which is soooooo. firstly why would having a fem mc mean that you have to ship them with someone, and secondly what about the studio implies that they would ever do that, and thirdly what an ass backwards misogynistic take, and fourthly you have to understand that f/m and f/f ships are not lesser than m/m. please LKAHSDFLKASDHFLKH the lengths people go to to justify not liking fem yuus. i laugh but it sucks going in the twst tags sometimes because people are so mean its depressing.

nyeah i feel like fandom is a bit like. too romance focused. people can do whatever the hell they want forever ofc! i like shipping also! i am known to enjoy an reader insert fic! i buy romance novels and play otomes all the time ajksldfhlakshdfasldhf but it sucks when its all that there is yknow. i love pushing dolls faces together to make them kiss but sometimes i would also like to play something else.

i also wish there was less disdain towards different yuus. like man we're all stuck in disney anime boy hell can't you guys suffer with dignity like the rest of us instead of being mean. we should all hold hands and imagine our favorite characters together.

#asks #everyone be fucking niceys!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!#twst #anyways if anybody reads this and wants to come in my inbox justifying why they don't like fem y*u (censored to not go into tags):#don't. i don't care and i'll delete your ask.

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period-dramallama · 1 year ago

Text

Tagged by @theladyelizabeth gratias tibi agoooooo

1. How many works do you have on AO3?: Under my main pseud, 48. My darkfic pseud, 9.

3. What fandoms do you write for? A scattering of fandoms. I specialise in worldbuilding and rarepairs. My main pseud is for Tudor fiction. My other pseud is for darkfic or more explicit fic.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? For main pseud:

C'est la (petite) vie c'est la (petite) mort

Love is a stranger who'll beckon you on

So you can sleep

love hid behind the shadows

The Pelican

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? i SHOULD. I don't always. I just feel... shy? awkward? i feel like a kid discussing their powerpoint. I reply if i have something to say. but i do thank people who leave comments on rarepair fics because i'm just so happy to meet another fellow shipper. And also heartfelt comments like people who survived horrible things and see themselves in the characters, I reply to those.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

So you can sleep. Reader-Y/N is left heartbroken and watchers of the movies know the man is on his way to becoming a serial killer. My other fics i would say are either bittersweet, or have a glimmer of hope, for the characters or their world.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Love is a stranger ends on a happy note, but with troubled times ahead (the death of Edward VI, the re-catholicisation of England, the illness of Don Carlos). C'est la petite vie has a depressing beginning but bounces its way chaotically to a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I don't write for popular ships, so i guess i don't get enough hits to find haters. Like if you read a rarepair, 99% chance you searched for that ship. And i'm a zealous tagger of dark content! The bookmark of 2/5 tho... I'd have preferred a comment saying what they liked and didn't like (because i still got a kudos and a bookmark so what gives????)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I dooooooooooo. My darkfic pseud for E, my main pseud doesn't go higher than M. I find smut a challenge to write, so I use it as an inciting incident or to explore a state of mind or a need. (Grief, guilt, power, anger, love).

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I have as a teenager on FFN.net. But I'm not a big crossover person. But i wrote a song Do You Wanna Be My Ally? To the tune of Do You Want To Build A Snowman?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? There's no incentive to steal rarepair fic. It'll only get you attention from like... 4 people. and those 4 people have probably read the original ANYWAY.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Alas, no.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I'd be down for it, but I've never been asked.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? My first OTP was Lupin/Tonks. They're how i discovered the existence of fanfic. But my all-time OTP is Jane/Rochester. Other ships wax and wane, but my enthusiasm for those two is constant.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have unfinished WIPs on my teenage FFN.net account, because i didn't know what ending i wanted. But i usually write oneshots. I have a WIP for a gothic novel that has been on the backburner for like 6 years. But one day I hope it'll reveal itself to me.

16. What are your writing strengths? I've been told I write fear and panic well. Which is good. Also comedy. Almost always a little bit of that in there. Also readers enjoy the characters, so that too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Let's ask the reader who gave me 2 stars transitional scenes. starting and ending the scene. setting the scene. I'm not big on description and location. I'm a dialogue-heavy writer, so if the dialogue isn't working for you.... Godspeed, reader.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Nah, i just say what language the characters are speaking in. But some of my chapter titles are in different languages.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter because i was a spotty kid with braces.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Usually the fic I'm writing at the time is my favourite. My longer fics like C'est la petite vie and Love is a stranger have a special place in my heart.

But I suppose the ultimate fanfic crown must go to Turn your back on the Hanging Tree, because it was a dusty old 80k word clumsy fanfic from my teen years that I cared about enough to rewrite as a 17k word oneshot. Murder, desire, women, scheming, BLOOD- all my favourite things.

Tagging @jurijurijurious @caesarflickermans @plvtarch @thefudge @natequarter @coryo @katniiss @astridbecks... i can't recall who else i know who writes fic.

#thanks for the tag!

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heechwe · 10 months ago

Text

GUILTY AS SIN | 최한솔

⟢ PAIRING: chwe hansol x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 7.5k ⟢ GENRE: semi-angst, semi-fluff, smut, ⟢ TAGS: coworker au, friends to lovers au, semi-unrequited love au, oral ⚠︎ WARNINGS: mentions of anxiety, some semblances of emotional cheating per se? ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Never in a million years did you think you would have a crush on your friend and best friend's boyfriend. But sometimes what is in your heart springs up at the worst times. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: holy shit it has been a thousand years since i wrote something? apologies i'm coming out of the woodwork with this one but finally decided to write something just to write and have fun which is awesome??

A dream should not have this much power over you.

Running into the studio, rehearsal clothes and all practically spilling out of your bag, you chastise yourself over and over at the scenario that has ran through your head since you woke up abruptly last night. Company personnel and coworkers stare at you while you sprint past them, mumbling yourself at your stupidity. You could barely get an hour of rest after the rude awakening. Every fiber of your being wanted to melt back into the dream. Of course, when you managed to stop tossing and turning, the alarm clock blared to life to remind you to get ready for band practice and head out.

It almost felt like reality was hidden in between your sheets, and the outside world was nothing but a false fantasy. And what was the best way for the world to remind you your dream was a figment of your imagination? Running into the subject of the imagery.

“Hey, watch out!” It takes little effort to be knocked back onto your ass. Your duffel bag explodes across the company building tile. You watch your belongings fall around you; clothing, sheet music paper, and emergency makeup flits in all directions. As an excuse to avoid looking directly up at him, you scramble to pick up everything. But all it takes to stop your frantic hands is Vernon’s voice speaking your name.

“What’s the rush,” Vernon says, a smirk on his face and a handful of your items in his palm. His sleeveless tank drapes across his chest, tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants. The top of his head is hidden in a one of his signature beanies, despite your warnings of his ridiculous head hair. “Cloud 9 can take a second for their keyboardist to make it.”

You hear some of the guys behind him laughing but continuing on their way, and you remind yourself to smack Mingyu upside the head the next time you see him. He may be stronger than you, but he deserves it. “Sorry, just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” you respond.

“Too long on the keys again? Jihoon needs to set a limit for late sessions, I swear,” he jokes.

“Nah, just had a weird dream,” you confess. What the fuck is wrong with you? You practically feel yourself smack your hand to your forehead. Vernon helps you up once all of your belongings are back in your bag. He places both hands on your shoulders, and the close-lipped smile on his face almost knocks you backwards.

“Just relax, practice is practice,” he reminds you, and you nod with a reciprocal grin.

You should not be thinking about him like this. And not when that someone is dating your best friend.

“Can you give this to Mina for me? She forgot to grab them from my room.” He hands you her keys once he swipes them from his pocket. The pink plush rabbit’s foot you bought her years ago that sits on her key-chain practically burns the words TRAITOR into your hand.

“Glad you thought to give them to her. She said this thing is the key to us getting good news today,” you say.

He sighs. “At least I remember things right?” Mingyu and Wonwoo almost out of view, Vernon motions to leave.

“See you later. Knock the big man dead!” He ruffles your hair before running after the boys, leaving you with a kaleidoscope of thoughts.

“Help me find a lifeline, in this heartbroken sea of mine,” Mina sings into the microphone. The words echo off the walls of the studio. Mr. Park keeps his focused gaze on the band until you play the last chords of the song. Unbeknownst to Vernon, your anxiety had nothing to do with Cloud 9’s evaluation. You could play the song and your entire album tracklist blindfolded. But now, seeing Mr. Park give nothing away makes your stomach turn.

Then, his face erupts in a smile as he claps his hands together hard. “Wonderful, girls. Absolutely wonderful!”

Mina and the rest of you breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Even Jeonghi, who’s perpetually stonefaced, displays a small smile.

“So we’re performance ready for the gala?” Mina asks for all of you, the thought on every bandmember’s mind.

“I believe so.” Mr. Park practically laughs as he says it. Everyone smiles wider and Jana, your lead guitarist, squeals in glee. Naejin, your new bassist, pats a hand on your back.

The Pledis Gala not only hosted the investors and higher-ups for the night, but the talent of the year were expected to have a performance during the party’s intermission. It was up to a couple groups and bands, but Mr. Park heavily endorsed Cloud 9 for the ticket. In spite of the first album not being scheduled for release for another three months, this would be the first time the band would perform and have live feedback.

It wouldn’t just be feedback on Cloud 9, but on all the songs you wrote. Mina would say it was 95% you and 5% her adding a lyric or two. You both created the band together, so you let her get away with the comment. And neither of you would discount each other’s hard work and influence on the group, anyway.

“Keep this fire for the next two weeks, and it won’t just be me who’s in love with you. Trust me ladies, I can feel it in my bones!” Mr. Park raises his hands in the air, almost to prove to himself he wasn’t wrong in where he placed his faith. He walks out of the studio, leaving all five of you to celebrate.

“Thank fucking god.” Jeonghi huffs before sticking her drumsticks in her back pocket.

“Not so fast, Heehee,” Mina retorts. “Like Park said, this does not mean the next two weeks are for slacking off.”

“Min, we got the gig. Breathe for a second.” You shake her, hoping you can force her out of performance mode. “We deserve to relax. And maybe buy a round of shots.”

“I second that,” Naejin says.

“I vote for that also.” Jana adds. “And maybe some food to go with that? You guys know I can’t drink on an empty stomach.” Her response makes all the girls laugh, including Jeonghi.

The studio door opens without warning. Vernon walks in with a tentative smile. “I see happy faces. Either that means you’re playing the gala or you’re all being very upbeat about not playing the gala.”

Jeonghi scoffs. “We got it, asshat. “

“We definitely did,” Mina yells out in glee. Mina runs towards Vernon and wraps her arms around him, an audibly happy sigh leaving her

A year in, Mina still loves to give Vernon physical affection, witnesses or not. She even confessed once that she believed Naejin had a crush on him and, according to her, “marking her territory” was only a bonus to PDA. If only she knew.

It takes Vernon a minute to react to her embrace, but he wraps his arms around her nonetheless. He kisses the top of her head when she lets him go. “Great job babe,” he says to Mina.

He turns his attention to you a second later, his eyes lighting up. “And how did they like the last song? I know you were messing with it for weeks.”

“Nothing a good brainstorm with you and Jihoon didn’t fix.” You nudge him in the hip with yours. His subsequent laugh on a normal day wouldn’t make you think twice, but now, the smallest hint of a chuckle kicks you in the ribs.

It’s a wonder how feelings can spring up without an iota of effort. It’s Vernon! The guy wears hats year-round. He stuffs his face with Oreos before offering any to anyone. The Saw franchise still scares the shit out of him, no matter how many times he’s seen them. And he’s Mina’s boyfriend. How could this person you have known for so long somehow worm his way into your subconscious like this?

The term “crush” has always bugged you. It’s more of a bug, honestly. A gnat that keeps reminding you of its presence and imperviousness to swatting.

The pestering feeling grows with the contact of your body and his. It even made your heart skip a beat if you were being honest with yourself.

“Congratulations, really. You guys deserve it,” Vernon says the words to all of you, but his eyes are focused on you alone. You brush it off with a polite smile, hoping somewill will take his attention away so you can focus on breathing again.

“Alright, back to the original subject,” Mina says, silently answering your prayer. “Drinks! As the oldest, Naejin should handle the tab.”

Jihoon was the only person you trusted with new material. Mina and the others usually saw your work after many rounds of edits between yourself and your songwriting partner. As you both put a lot of effort into your respective bands’ work, it only made sense for him to be your official sounding board. The other units kept their contributions locked tight from anyone outside of the group. Except for Vernon, but it was rare for you to swap material directly.

That being said, Jihoon would lose his built-up credit if he continued to emit grunts and humphs instead of feedback on your work.

“If I hear another ‘huh’ come from your mouth, I will chuck my shoe at you,” you warn, still playing the keys of Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing” on the piano.

“It’s just interesting, that’s all,” Jihoon says.

That word cuts your piano playing short. “You don’t usually use that vocabulary when describing my lyrics.”

“When did you write this?” He asks. He grabs some copies from his backpack, assorting them in a pile.

“The night before yesterday.” It had been a long night of witnessing Mina’s extremely public displays of affections and drinking too many tequila shots. When you were walking home with the girls, a melody suddenly sprang in your heard. You mulled over it for hours with your buzz until you opened Garageband and wrote some lyrics to go with it. It was nothing more than a few lines, but you wanted Jihoon to see if the idea had any potential. “Why?”

“Help me find a lifeline, in this heartbroken sea of mine,” He recites the lyrics to “SOS” from one of the papers he collected from his backpack. He pulls another one from the pile. “You see the shadow of my thoughts, if only you recognized the workings of my heart.” Jihoon looks up at you. “Not trying to be too deep, but I think I can smell a thematic coincidence.”

“Jihoon, stop it.”

“Ah! And here’s the pattern, folks.” He clears his throat before reading the scrap of paper you gave him this afternoon. “She may be the piece that fits you, but I can be the puzzle that undoes you?”

You rest your elbows on the keys, head in your hands as the instrument screeches in protest. You feel the cushion next to you sink with the weight of Jihoon’s body, and you turn to him. Eyes welling up with tears, you say, “It’s that obvious is it?”

“Based on this material, yeah.” He scoffs, a pout on his face. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know! One day I’m fine, sitting with Jana as Vernon is making jokes and the next I’m dreaming-“

“Wait,” Jihoon interrupts you. “Vernon as in Mina’s Vernon?” You nod, to which Jihoon huffs out a breath. “Now this makes a lot of sense.”

“I don’t want to feel this way, Hoonie. I don’t. And I’m not going to be the person who takes a person from someone else,” you assure him.

“And you said ‘dreaming’? About what?” The curious look on Jihoon’s face makes you feel even worse. But, you let yourself pretend that telling one person about your dream will make it easier to lay your crush to rest. So you do, but not in so much detail…

You sit side by side as you play the final string of keys for Vernon, mouth a hard line from your anxiety. The silence sits between you once the song is over, and you clear your throat after singing the lyrics you came up with.

“It’s obviously touch-and-go, but I wanted to know what you think.” You tuck a hair behind your ear, shy at this crumb of an idea being the first thing Vernon has ever heard of yours before anyone else. You usually hammer at it until it’s close to perfect, but in this most vulnerable stage of the process, you’re worried he’ll judge it harsher than ever before.

“I think it’s amazing.” He smiles. His response makes you smile in turn, but it quickly fades once he places a hand on yours. He guides it to the keys, his fingers lingering over your skin. “But what if you changed the minor chord to a major? The song sounds like it could be hopeful rather than sad.”

“Major and minor? Jihoon is teeaching you well,” you tease.

“Fuck you.” He bumps your shoulder with his. “I’m being serious though.”

“I just feel like it would change everything about it.” You blush, taking your hand back. The room suddenly feels too small, the space between the two of you crossing and invisible barrier. You should tell him to scoot farther away from you on the bench, keeping a friendly and professional level of distance. But you don’t. This is the first time you’ve ever been this close when being alone together. A part of you wants to cherish it.

“What’s wrong with change,” he asks, staring at you with a curious but heady expression that makes your breath hitch. Your faces are a foot away but you remind yourself nothing will come from the close contact. Neither of you would ever, even if you wanted to.

“The entire song would have to be rewritten. And maybe it’s fine the way it is,” you respond.

“What if that’s just what you think, but it would be better to give it a try?” You get a feeling he isn’t talking about the song anymore. But it’s foolish to think that way. He’s not yours, and you don’t expect him to ever be. So why are his eyes flickering with a challenge, his lips parted, his expression daring you to choose the words you can’t speak out loud?

“Then try.” The thought leaves your mouth before you’re aware of its existence. And without preparation, Vernon’s lips are on yours.

You’ve kissed boys plenty of times before, but this kiss is an electric current charging every nerve in your body. It wakes you up and reminds you this is real, he is here and kissing you like he couldn’t hold himself back for another second.

You blame the universe for how good it feels to run your hands across his shoulders and neck, the vibration of his moans against your lips only swaying you to explore further. Every instinct may be screaming at you for how wrong this situation is and how you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours. But if this is the only chance you have, the memories of it have to last a lifetime.

His tongue enters your mouth and you can’t help but moan, the feeling like honey gliding on your skin. He smirks and takes your bottom lip between his teeth. “We have to be quiet,” he whispers. The practice room may be soundproof to an extent, but you gasp at the thought of someone walking in.

“Can you be quiet for me?” Vernon asks, his hands roaming down to the hem of your graphic tee, raising it with his fingers to touch the skin underneath. The feeling makes you grab his mouth in a kiss to swallow the moan that threatens to leave yours.

You realize how good it feels to have all of him with reach. Not just the words, the laughter, the stolen glances. He’s less than a second away, and if he leaves now, it may just kill you.

Vernon’s fingers stop roaming once they sit on the waistband of your shorts. He looks deeply at you in a way that you realize is to confirm you want this as much as he does. You’ve already passed the point of holding back. What more could you lose by asking for more?

Soon enough, his fingers draw figure eights against the fabric of your underwear, teasing you with no intention of stopping. With your back pressed against the piano you bite hard on your lip to suppress your moans. Vernon kisses your neck as he keeps a steady rhythm, frustrating you in a way you’re not used to. Finding purchase on a nearby surface does nothing to help. One of your hands presses down on a scramble of piano keys that break the symphony of heavy breathing and whispered whimpers. And you feel the devilish grin on Vernon’s face, loving the writhing of your body and delicious frustration he’s putting you through.

The last thing you feel is a finger slipping inside of you before you find yourself awake in the middle of the night. You’re unsure whether it was the city below or a random sound in your room that pulled you from your dream, but you try your best for the rest of the night to steady your pounding heart.

“Dude that’s so gross. I did not need to know that!” Jihoon mimics vomiting on the laminate floor, and you chuckle in the midst of your tears.

“Shut up, man. I can’t control my dreams. And that was just the cliffnotes!”

“Dreams are one thing. Sounds like a soft core porn happening in your head to me,” he says. He gets up from the stool and shakes off his disgust. “And it was probably in one of our studios, you horndog.”

“I work here, so it may be gross but not unrealistic.” You sigh and close the lid of the piano, too deflated to play anything else. “So that’s that. I have a crush on Vernon that I did not ask for and it’s invading my entire thought process, even my fucking songwriting.”

“You know what this means right?” Jihoon smirks.

“If this means you think you can set me up on another blind date, you’re sadly mistaken.” You point your index finger at him as a visual cue to not push you further. “Not after the last date tried to explain to me the benefits of Scientology!”

“Okay, maybe that was a bust, but come on!”

You sigh, grabbing your belongings. What could it hurt to try again? Maybe the key to expelling your feelings was finding someone new. “As long as this one doesn’t try to convert me.”

Sunghoon turns out to be a complete gentleman, it makes you forget why you brushed off Jihoon’s suggestion a week ago. He opens the door to the restaurant and pulls out your chair. He talks about his love for playing professional baseball and remains engaged in everything you say about the music industry. On paper, it’s a perfect date with a man wrapped in green flags. But it isn’t with Vernon, and that gnat-like thought keeps pestering you, even as Sunghoon offers to walk you home.

Hand in hand, Sunghoon continues on his diatribe regarding American versus European football, a practically one-sided conversation that makes you laugh. “And why would they call it football anyway, am I right,” Sunghoon says. “Where in the game do they ever make contact with the ball by using their foot?”

“You sound like a comedian trying to come up with a skit,” you joke.

“I could see that…maybe if my day job fails. I promise to thank you when I blow up.” Sunghoon winks. He is all kinds of attractive, as Mina would say to you, wavy hair and a strong build to reflect his profession. He is perfect for you. So why don’t you feel a flutter in your chest when he squeezes your hand or any heat in your cheeks when he makes a flirty comment?

The answer comes in someone’s voice screaming your name into the night. You turn your head to find Vernon running down the street, a bag from 7-Eleven in his grasp and flying around in the air.

“Who’s this guy,” Vernon says when he finally catches up to you. His brows are furrowed and his chest is rising and falling quickly, but you blame the latter on his lack of exercise outside of practice. That and the thick material of his matching hoodie and sweatpants.

Sunghoon sharply lets go of your hand, a blush erupting on his face. “I’m so sorry, man. I didn’t know she had a-“

“No, she doesn’t.” You glare at Vernon. “This is a friend of mine. We work at the same company.”

Sunghoon breathes a sigh of relief, but Vernon remains indifferent as they shake hands and exchange greetings. “Glad to know I didn’t go on a date with someone already spoken for!”

You and Vernon look at Sunghoon in confusion. The speckle of interest you had in Sunghoon immediately sours, but only Vernon voices his disapproval. “This isn’t the 50s. She can speak for herself, man,” Vernon replies. His face turns from confusion to annoyance.

“And she thinks she can walk home alone. Thank you for the dinner, Sunghoon. You have my number.” You ignore the frown on Sunghoon’s face and turn to Vernon. “As for you, I’ll see you at work.”

You leave the two of them as you continue your walk home, but Vernon quickly catches up. “He seemed like a gem, huh?”

You scoff. “You didn’t really present yourself as a prize either, Vernon.”

“Do you blame me? The guy was a total neanderthal!”

“Maybe I like neanderthals. From experience, they seem to have great senses of humor. Especially in the misogyny department.” You crack a smile as he chuckles, but you try to hold onto your anger a smidgen longer. “You didn’t have to be so rude.”

“My rudeness was based on my intuition. And I was right, so you’re welcome.” Vernon ruffles through the bag and hands you a packet of sour Skittles. “And can you be mad at someone who got you your favorite candy?”

“How did you know you would even see me tonight to give me this?”

“I would’ve just saved them until the next time I saw you. You said sour Skittles always make your day better,” he says.

“Like three years ago,” you mumble, a gnawing pain suddenly within your chest.

“Well, as far as I could tell your candy preferences haven’t changed.” Vernon is blissfully unaware of how much his memory and the measly bag of candy splits your heart in two.

You look away from him to wipe a tear from your eye, but for the first time, he can tell something in your demeanor has shifted. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He puts both hands on either side of your face, his face suddenly becoming angry, a side he rarely shows. “Did that guy do something before I-“

You shake your head suddenly. “I’ve just been having a weird couple weeks. Just a lot of feelings before the gala, I guess.” You swallow and stare down at your feet, letting the lie seep in.

“I know you. This isn’t pre-show jitters,” he responds. His hands still sit comfortably on your cheeks. Despite the October chill, you wonder if he feels how hot your face has become since he;s touched it.

For the first time in a while, you look up at him and hold his gaze. You ask yourself a million questions as he stares back and the silence envelops you both. You hope they’re loud enough to reach him, to know if he shares the thoughts that have plagued your mind day after day. Do you know how easy it is to fall for you? Why do you make it so hard to deny this fucking feeling?

Someone calling both of your names pierces the quiet. Vernon immediately lets go of you and you step further away from him. You don’t realize you’ve made it to the company apartments until Mina steps out of the darkness, an accusatory glance in your direction. “What are you guys doing out this late?”

“Snack run,” Vernon answers immediately, pointing to the bag in his hand.

“Just coming back from a date,” you say quickly after Vernon.

Mina raises her eyebrows and gives a small smile. “Think he’ll be your date to the gala?”

“Time will tell,” you say in a clipped tone. You begin walking up the cobblestone pathway to the apartment entrance. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You don’t bother looking back at Vernon or Mina. You are sure if you do, every secret in your heart will reveal itself and the thought of losing both of them at once is more than you can take. Falling into a listless sleep, you do not know if there are any winners in this kind of fight.

The vibe as soon as you enter the studio is tense. The girls sit in a huddle around Mina, the subject of the attention bawling on Jana’s shoulder. You immediately run up to her, but Jeonghi stops you short. “I wouldn’t, kid.”

“What the hell happened,” you ask, concern flooding you.

“Like you don’t know.” Mina sniffles, dabbing at her eyes.

“What does it take for you to answer your phone,” Naejin says. She grabs a box of tissues to hand Mina.

Suddenly, you notice the girls’ accusatory glances and your concern nosedives into defense. “My phone was dead after I got back from my date. And I forgot to charge it before coming here so-“

“Convenient,” Jana responds.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“It means that my boyfriend—oh sorry, I should say ex-boyfriend now.” Mina says, standing up from her spot on the couch with Jana to tread closer to you. “My ex decides to tell me he has feelings for someone else right after I see the two of you last night way too close for comfort? You’re right Jana, that’s pretty fucking convenient.” Mina’s tone cuts you deep. Despite the pain and fear inside of you, all you can think about is how profoundly inconvenient it was of you to go wireless for 12 hours.

“One, even if you don’t believe me, I did not think I would see Vernon last night let alone you.” Mina scoffs at the response, but you continue anyway. “Second, I have no idea who he could possibly have feelings for other than you, Min. And that’s the truth.”

“You’re telling me you absolutely have no feelings for him?” Mina asks you, her bottom lip trembling. Up to this point, her voice has been clipped and angry, but the last words break by the end. You thought last night broke your heart, but this is true heartbreak.

You never intended to hurt her, not after all the work you both put into succeeding together. Music and the people you love mean everything to you, but how can both be so inextricably intertwined in this horrible predicament?

The silence screams louder than either of you ever could, and something in Mina’s face shatters. Your friendship? Her trust? You aren’t sure.

“You know what? Let’s just cool off until the gala this weekend,” Naejin says.

“We’re supposed to practice today,” you mutter. A tear escapes your eye, and Mina lets out a breath of disbelief.

“I get broken up with and you have the balls to cry right now?”

“Mina, lay off for a second,” Jeonghi interjects.

“We’ll deal with Park. Just, maybe lay low until then,” Naejin responds to you. She gives a parting nod. Jana barely looks at you as you leave, and Jeonghi says goodbye in her usual apathetic tone.

Only as you walk down the hallway and to the glass doors of the entrance do you allow yourself to sob. If only feelings could remain buried if you simply wished for them to. It would make the pain much easier to swallow if you never let them come up to the surface at all.

You think about how a nap may do you some good until you run into Vernon. He says your name, a breathless plea, but you shut him down immediately. “I can’t do this right now.”

“I was worried when you weren’t answering your phone,” he says. He walks forwards with his hands outstretched, visibly concerned about the tears falling down your face. But you refuse. You back away every time he tries to move closer. “Can we talk, please? It doesn’t have to be now, but—“

“Hansol,” you beg, the use of his given name startling him. “When I tell you I can’t, I mean it.”

He swallows. His head turns downward, recognizing he won’t get the outcome he wants. The push and pull between your feelings about the argument with Mina and wanting to tell him you want more than anything to talk to him—do nothing with him, even—makes your stomach turn. “I get it. Just please charge your phone.”

He walks away and in the direction of the Pledis building. It would be so easy to run after him, but the frailty of your strength forces you to walk forward. There is no timing worse than right now to discuss what’s happened in the last 24 hours.

And still, the feelings in his heart could be reserved for someone else anyway. The stupidity you’d feel would grow tenfold if this situation ended with him actually not wanting you at all.

When you crack open your apartment door, you see the Skittles bag strewn on your coffee table. The makeshift bandages you used to mend your heart on your walk home in silence rip off. I fucked this up so perfectly didn’t I runs through your head on loop, the perfect lyric to describe your pain. The laminate wood flooring’s warmth welcomes you as you fall apart.

The ballroom stage is cluttered with instruments. From your vantage point backstage, you see numerous suit and ties in the crowd at their assigned tables waiting patiently as well as the young trainees. You even see all of the guys at their own table from this distance, cracking jokes and whispering quietly. Except for Vernon, his expression unreadable. He’s never been too much of an expressive guy, even less so at events. But seeing him indifferent to the people around him forces you to close the curtain.

“Mina can’t just be AWOL right now,” Jeonghi says, yanking at the strings of her dress. “God, why did they have to make us wear these poofy babydoll dresses? I feel like a baby.”

The outfit doesn’t thrill you either, but it was nice the wardrobe team dressed you all in the same white attire. Save for Mina, who’s supposed to be in a blue version of the outfit due to her title as the lead singer.

“You look great. And I think the word you’re looking for is a cherub,” Jana says.

“Babies and cherubs aren’t mutually exclusive, J,” Jeonghi bites back.

“Anyway!” Naejin cuts in. “Let’s just focus on the positives. Mina still has ten minutes. She’s probably getting final touches on makeup.”

You nod, sitting on a stool an acceptable distance away. It’s bad enough you haven’t seen any of them since that day in the studio. It was another thing if Mina did not show up on purpose. You wouldn’t blame her, though.

The only people who tried to fix your self-isolation were Jihoon and Mingyu . And 90% of their discussions with you were about how much of a wreck Vernon was. You realized it was better to avoid talking altogether. No one could pick apart your thoughts or words in solitude.

Naejin sits next to you when she grabs a spare stool. “Can I just ask a question?” You turn your head in response. “Did you really not know?”

“Naejin-“

“I mean, it seemed a bit obvious to me they wouldn’t last.”

“Nae! That’s really fucked up to say.” Jana casts judgemental eyes at the both of you.

Naejin shrugs in response. “It’s not my fault if I noticed the kid’s eyes were elsewhere.”

“For your information, guys, no,” you interject. “No, I did not know that they’d break up. As for Vernon, he’s an oaf. He could like the checkout girl at the fish market for all we know.” Naejin shakes her head, a smug smile on her face. “What?”

“Nothing, just…it’s one thing to be oblivious. It’s another to willfully hide how you feel.”

Jana stops pacing and turns to you. “Do you actually like him? Like for real?”

You look down at your hands, trying to compose the right response. “I think I always have.”

The breath that leaves you once you confess feels like the lightest air you’ve ever inhaled and exhaled. It’s the first one in a while that comes out with ease. In the next second, feeling freer, all the words come out in a rush. “But I didn’t think I could act on it with the other stuff in the way. The band, the company, all that shit. Then it was him and Mina, and she was so happy. It seemed like a sign. Like there would always be other factors involved. But, I realized it was just an excuse to pretend I didn’t feel the way I did. It made it easier, until it wasn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me back then?” Mina’s voice makes you turn your head, and the tears immediately pool in your eyes. She looks beautiful, her makeup and hair in perfect precision. But the frown on her face tells you she feels anything but. You wish the source of this fracture between the two of you didn’t stem from you to begin with.

“Don’t ruin your makeup!” Jana screams.

“So not important right now,” Jeonghi says.

Mina lovingly huffs at them before turning back to you. “I never would’ve went out with him if I knew you were feeling like this.”

“I swear to you I didn’t realize all of this until a few weeks ago.” You stand up. “I’m a dumbass with timing, I guess.”

“You are,” she agrees. Her own tears begin to turn her eyes glassy. “But I’m one too, for not realizing you hid all of this.” She sighs. “I’m not saying I’m happy right now, but you’re not the only one who kept secrets.”

“I would’ve kept them forever if I could’ve. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”

Neither of you know what to do in that moment. Friendships have survived much worse. At least, you hope so.

Of course Mr. Park decides now is the time to run backstage. “You’re on in a minute beauties!” He wipes the sweat from his forehead and runs back in the direction he came.

The other girls get on the stage to start prepping. You hold out your hand to Mina, a silent request to work on your relationship. Mina immediately laces her fingers through yours. In that moment, you’re ready to see your shared dream come true.

As predicted, the performance went without a hitch. Mina, in spite of her obvious nerves, wowed the crowd with her stage presence. The instrumental sounded perfect, to the point executives commented on the smallest details. Each one you were introduced to was excited to see Cloud 9’s impending success. Some of the boys congratulated you when you made it off the stage as well. Even Jihoon had a tear in his eye. But the one you wanted and dreaded to see was evidently missing.

You saw him during the set, but Vernon’s absence is partially a blessing in disguise. You don’t want to talk to him here in a crowded room of people you barely know. And not with Mina in close proximity either, despite the tentative peace treaty you’ve both made.

You walk out of the ballroom, unnoticed. In the familiar hallways, you find yourself heading to the studio. Maybe the piano will have some answers for you.

Of course, Vernon is sitting at the piano waiting for you.

“Not surprised you’d come here.” Vernon chuckles to himself, He swipes his brown bangs from his eyes before standing to face you.

“You know I hate crowds.” You cross your arms. Even in one of your safe space, you feel unarmed.

“How’s it feel to be on the fast-track to fame?”

You take a deep breath, a smile lingering on your lips. “Like the hard work’s just begun.”

His grin is the only spotlight you want on you after the haze of pyrotechnics and shuttering cameras. And it feels good to see it after witnessing his somber mood earlier.

“Can I just say,” he starts, “you look beautiful.”

You put your hands in front of your face. A laugh bubbles up from deep in your stomach. “You can’t just say stuff like that to me, Vernon.”

“I’ve been wanting to since that night last week,” he confesses. “So I thought I’d start with that, seeing as the first time we’ve talked in forever.”

Willing yourself to still your frantic pulse, you say, “Well you still can’t say that shit without consequences, you know.”

“And what would those be?” The curiosity in his eyes and close-mouthed grin jumpstarts your heart yet again. How was there ever a chance you could bury your feelings when he looked at you like that?

Inside this room, in the setting of the dream that jumpstarted all of this, you take the chance to finally let the floodgates open.

“Because I’ll have no choice but to kiss you. And then tell you I’ve liked you since the second you taught me to tie shoelaces one-handed because you thought it was the coolest thing you’ve ever learned. And how I admire how much you care about others before yourself. And how effortless you are at performing even though when anyone tells you that you think they’re a big fat liar. And then I’ll say maybe after realizing all of this and saying it out loud that maybe I lo-“

You don’t know what you feel first: the pressing of Vernon’s palms to your cheeks or his lips against yours. But you’re sure the feeling of his touch in reality blows both your expectations and fantasies out of the water. If the kiss in your dream felt like the fire of electricity, this one is the calmest pool you’ve ever swam in. It mends all of your anxieties, quiets all of your fears. It could make any skeptic believe that the world’s greatest power is in two mouths crashing into each other.

When you separate, your mouths still inches away from each other’s, Vernon says, “Maybe I love you too.” In a millisecond he presses his lips back to yours.

You always wondered what it would feel like to touch him in this way, and now that you can, you’re a mess. You pull him as close as you can by the lapels of his suit-jacket before he rips off the article of clothing altogether.

“They’re gonna realize the both of us are missing,” you whisper, hands still roaming from his chest to the nape of his neck.

“It’s a big party. What are the odds they notice before we come back,” he teases. If the boy could bring you any closer, you’re hard-pressed into believing he would. You giggle into his mouth and motion towards the door.

“Just let me lock it. Or put a chair in front of it, at least?” He groans in protest but steps away from you to oblige your request. He ensures the door is inaccessible with the turn of the lock and jiggles the doorknob to prove it. “Thank you,” you say.

He stalks back towards you and hungrily pulls you in. He bites your lip as you clutch onto his neck tie. “You really want to see me shirtless, don’t you?

“Fuck you,” you joke. He instinctively roams his lips down to your neck, sucking the sensitive spot of your collarbone. You moan in response.

“Planning on it.”

Vernon guides the two of you to the grey leather armchair parallel to the grand piano. You wonder if he can feel the jackhammer replacing your heart as he kisses the top of your cleavage. The skin feels on fire in the wake of his fingers and mouth touching you.

He gently pushes you into a sitting position on the chair, but when you reach for the buckle of his belt, he stops you with his hand. “Not here.” A question marks your expression, but he chuckles. “Don’t worry. One of us is going to get off tonight.”

Sinking to his knees, he rests his hands on the outsides of your thighs. He kisses your skin softly, helping you relax. He travels further up your leg, his head centimeters from between your legs. The moment seems unreal, the boy you love seconds away from going down on you in the studio where anyone could pass by and hear the sounds coming from the room.

Not long ago, this was only the stuff of your fantasies. And you almost kick yourself for asking, but the words come out nonetheless. “Tell me this is real.”

He chuckles, lips still pressed to the inside of your thigh. “It’s real.” He looks up, part of his jaw obscured by the fabric of your dress. “And if it isn’t, I don’t want to wake up.”

With ease, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slides them off. He presses a tender, slow kiss to your clit. You moan, immediately grabbing onto his hair when he started weaving circles around your center with his tongue, the pace both too perfect and not enough. You wanted to feel him inside of you, but you knew as well as he did you didn’t want your first time in the company building.

But still, you mewl and raise your hips up to meet his face, loving the sensation of his lips bringing you closer. “You like that,” he asks, gently prodding your entrance with his index finger. “D’you want more, baby?”

You nod vigorously, yanking tighter to the ends of his brown hair. “Fuck yes, please and thank you.”

His laugh reverberates against your pussy, the feeling outmatched by the sudden press of his finger inside of you. You let out a breathless gasp, your head falling back into the fabric of the armchair. Fuck he’s too good at this.

If only you had confessed the way you felt to him earlier than now. Maybe then you would have known how good this feeling, both lust and love interwoven, could be. But that didn’t matter, did it? Now, you had this boy who said he thought the world of you appreciating you in the most carnal way possible.

“You’re incredible,” he grunts, adding a second finger. You let out a long moan in response. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

“Fuck, Hansol,” You cry out, his pace suddenly increasing as his tongue makes slow laps at your clit. “I want to come.”

“You will, I promise.” He suddenly works overtime on you, his fingers curling just enough. With the depth and speed alone, you feel your orgasm within arm’s reach.

When he tells you how beautiful you are again and with the fast flick of his tongue and pressing of his fingers, you unravel. In a sense of irony, it feels better than Cloud 9. He sees you through it beautifully, only taking his mouth away from you when you stop bucking into his touch.

Vernon pulls you into his lap, both of his lips glistening. He quickly wipes his mouth before kissing you gingerly. The look of shy glee on his face makes your heart swell. If only they made that smile for purchase, the universe would be a much happier place.

“Hi,” he says. He wipes at the sweat building up on your brow, looking at you with all the love a person can have for another person.

You giggle. “You eat me out and the first thing you say is ‘Hi’?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else, to be honest.” You both share a joyous laugh at his ridiculousness.

“Hi to you too.”

You barely remember the beginning of the day and all the emotions you harbored before walking into the studio, or all the frustration pent up inside of you from the past few weeks. The only important thing had his arms wrapped around you and all his attention on you, determined to conquer whatever happened next together.

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