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kissmyhandcallmedarling · 3 years ago

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happy hour

noel fielding x reader (smut)

notes:

tw: contains smut

set about the mid-late boosh era

its super fast-paced; wrote this in january, and didn't touch it until tonight; i added a tiny bit more but couldn't be bothered to expand it so it's pretty quick

enjoy ;)

You let out a loud sigh as you slumped down into the chair behind the dresser. You had just returned to your dressing room, after a long day of filming for The Mighty Boosh. You were so happy to be a part of such a quirky project, but by god, it was tiring.

Of course, the other upside to being an actress (well, not an overly successful one yet, but an actress nonetheless) was that you got to work with some of the coolest people; Noel Fielding and Julian Barratt were no exceptions - they were creative geniuses! And... you maybe also... had a little, tiny crush... on Noel. He was certainly very attractive - you couldn't keep your eyes off him in his red, Joan Jett jumpsuit during filming today. But nothing would ever happen between you two - you had become good friends. Nothing more.

As you began to gather up your things, you noticed a slip of paper under the door. It was a note. You picked it up and unfolded it. The note read:

Y/n,

I was wondering if you fancied coming back to my place tonight for a drink?

Julian's going out with Julia (I think?) and I could do with the company. Plus, it'd be nice to spend some time together outside of work.

See you later, yeah?

- Noel X

Without a second thought, you raced to collect your belongings from the room and made your way to Noel's dressing room, his note now crumpled in your hand.

You knocked lightly on his door, and a muffled "come in" was uttered in reply. Noel was standing over the bench, facing the mirror, fixing his hair. He turned to see who had entered his boudoir; his face lit up when he saw who it was.

You.

"Hey, Y/n! You get my note?"

"Yeah. I'd love to have a drink with you. My social shedule's pretty free at the moment."

"Great! Lemme just pack up my stuff and I'll be with you." He began to collect up his belongings - laptop, scripts, walkman with headphones, Nirvana CD... "Did you drive today?"

"No, I caught the bus."

"Ah cool. I'll drive us then." He winked cheekily at you while packing his last affects into a rucksack embellished with iron-on patches and badges of various bands. He zipped up the bag and swung it over his shoulder, gesturing to the door. "After you."

Soon, the two of you had arrived at Noel's apartment.

"Make yourself at home," he shut the door behind him, taking your coat from you and placing it on the rack. "It's not much, but we've tried to make it ours, you know?"

You glanced down the hallway, many a painting covering the walls like a mosaic.

"Are these all yours?" You asked.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"I love them."

He smiled gratuitously. "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

"You truly are very talented. In more ways than one, Mr Fielding." You smiled back. You may have been mistaken, but you swore a blush crept up his cheeks.

"Lots of people think they're shit. I don't blame them."

"Well then," you said. "Those people clearly have terrible taste."

"You flatter me." Noel chuckled. "Now, come. I believe I owe you a drink."

You followed the man into the kitchen, where he fixed the two of you a flirtini each.

"I had no idea flirtinis were a thing! I thought you guys just made them up for the show!" You reveled, taking a sip of the cocktail.

"Nah! The flirtini is a real drink, Y/n. Best cocktail in my opinion."

"Vince has good taste."

"I am Vince, darlin'," Noel winked at you, smirk forming across his face. Shit. There were those butterflies again.

Your eyes caught his, and you were immediately drawn in, unable to look away. He felt it too. Slowly, as if testing the waters, Noel's hand found your jawline. He cupped your face, before pulling you in, and kissing you. You simply melted under his touch, fully savoring the moment. And then he inhaled sharply, quickly pulling away.

"I am so sorry. I had no right to just-"

"Don't stop."

Noel blinked at you dumbfoundedly for a second, as though trying to comprehend what you just said. There was no way you felt the same as he? Was there?

Clearly, you did, as within moments, your lips were fused once more, hearts racing with every touch. The kiss grew wilder, more passionate. Noel began to trail wet kisses down your neck. The mere sound of his lips puckering against your skin was enough to send even the most puritan of women into madness.

Your brain was struggling to keep up with your body, to comprehend what was occurring. Moments ago you were having a cocktail with a friend and now...

Now...

Noel's lips were back on yours. He was rough, yet gentle. He was perfect.

He allowed a small groan to surpass his lips, simply stoking the fire that burned deep within you. One of his hands slid down your back, cradling your derriere, while the other entangled itself in your hair.

"Y/n?" He asked, still grasping your body tightly against his own.

"Hmm?"

"Do you wanna go all the way?" He quickly added, "Only if you want. I would never force you. It's completely your call."

"Yeah."

And then you were in his arms. Noel carried you, bridal style, away to what you presumed was his bedroom. He placed you gently on the bed, before crawling above you. He kissed you deeply, passionately. You needed him, and you could tell he needed you.

Soon your clothing was discarded in a messy pile on the floor, and the bedsheets loosely draped over the both of your bodies. When Noel was sure you were absolutely aching for him, he lined himself up and entered you. He allowed you a moment to adjust, before he initiated a gentle movement.

"I'll start off slow, okay, darlin'?"

You nodded, gazing up into his eyes. They were truly spectacular.

"Just relax. Let me do all the work." His hand reached for yours and grasped it tightly beside your head. Your free hand gripped his toned, hairless chest tightly. Noel sped up his pace; every thrust had you closer... closer... closer....

You fixated on his face. It was set in an expression of pure ecstasy.

"My god," he drawled. "You are so beautiful, Y/n."

You were so close. He was still going strong, speed increasing.

Your pleasure grew, and grew, and grew.

"You alright?" He whispered.

"Noel..." You gasped. "Keep going! Don't stop!"

"Are you close?"

"Noel..." You groaned, biting your lip, and tensing your neck. "Noel! Don't stop. Please!"

"God! You are so beautiful! You are so, so beautiful!" He craned his neck down to kiss you. His lips were ravishing yours, more fervid than ever before. That was what tipped you over the edge. You let out a strong gasp, as your head fell back into the pillow.

Release.

Noel's body collapsed beside you on the bed. You breathed heavily, catching your breath, as your lover pulled the covers over both of your bodies.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He raked a hand through his hair, propping himself up on his elbow.

You turned to face him. "Wonderful."

"I am so glad." He kissed your lips softly.

"Though I am rather tired now, I must say." You chuckled.

"Am I that exhausting?" He flirted. You noticed as his tongue scraped the inside of his teeth before he broke into a smirk.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"You're a cheeky little tit, you know that?" He teased. "But I'm all here for it. Come here." He held his arms out. You wiggled into his embrace. His skin was warm against yours.

Noel placed a loving kiss on your head, as his thumb lightly caressed your shoulder. Eventually, you fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.

It was pure bliss.

***

You awoke pleasantly; neither feeling groggy nor sleep deprived. You felt tranquil. As you registered your surrounds, the events of the previous night came flooding back. You wrapped the sheets tightly over your chest and scanned the room for him.

“Noel?” You quietly called out. “Noel?”

He was clearly not within range of hearing your voice, though as you listened closely, you could hear faint clattering coming from the kitchen vicinity. You could make out two voices. Two?

Oh shit! This was Julian’s apartment too! As much as you admired the man, you could easily admit that you were intimidated by him. Who wouldn’t be - that 6 foot 3 jazzy hunk of a man towering over everyone. You tried to ignore the fact that you were lying naked in the bed of your boss’s co-boss and best mate - you certainly weren’t going to show your face.

Noel’s POV

Rain pelted heavily on the roof, yet a glimpse of sun still peeked through the clouds. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light, before landing on you. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful, oblivious to all but the pleasant trance of sleep. He wondered what you were dreaming about? It had all happened so quickly last night. He hoped you felt the same way - he really cared about you.

Noel gently placed a hand on your shoulder, careful not to wake you, before kissing your head softly. He couldn’t help but smile - how did he get so lucky.

Still cautious not to wake you up from your slumber, Noel got up, wrapping a silk robe around himself. He made his way out to the kitchen, still smiling sweetly to himself.

“Good morning, mate.”

“Piss off, Ju.”

“Hey,” Julian smirked. “I’m not suggesting anything...”

“That’s a load of bs, you knob!” Noel retorted playfully. “I meant to ask, what did you get up to last night?” Noel poured himself a coffee from the percolator. “Get absolutely wasted, did you? Shag a couple chicks?”

“Don’t try turn this on me, mate.” Julian sipped his coffee. “And you’re one to talk about shagging. Who’s that in your bed?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Why you so interested in my love life anyway?”

Julian merely smiled knowingly.

“Fine! I slept with her, alright.” Noel sighed. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

“Afraid not, my friend.”

Noel punched Julian's arm playfully. “Right, I’m off to tend to my lady,” he poured another cup of coffee. “See you later, Ju.”

Julian wolf whistled, to which his mate simply replied to with a middle finger.

"Prick!"

Y/n’s POV:

You were seated against the headboard, reading through a script you found on the nightstand. Noel appeared, carrying two cups of steaming coffee.

“Morning, darlin'. How’d you sleep?” He sat down on the edge of the bed and handed you a mug.

“Very well, thank you.”

There was a silence.

“I had a great time last night.” Noel smiled.

“So did I.”

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

#noel fielding #noel fielding x reader #the mighty boosh #vince noir #mighty boosh #noel is such a sweetheart #julian barratt #howard moon #luxury comedy #gbbo #great british bake off

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i-used-to-wear-the-fedora · 2 years ago

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Stranger Things Egg Baby AU, Lessons in Love and Life

If there was one plus side to having a messed up leg, it meant Eddie didn't have to participate in gym that day. The metalhead sat on the bleachers with his leg stretched out (as ordered by the doctor note he'd faked in home room that day). While the rest of the class played dodgeball, Eddie focused on finishing the math homework he didn't have time to do the night before. Eggy Pop was thankfully with Harrington at the moment so he didn't have to worry about the anxiety trip that would he protecting and egg from stray dodgeballs. One of which had almost "accidentally" hit in the head.

"Hey Munson." Eddie looked up from his homework to see Tommy Hagan grinning as he took a seat next to the teen. "Sorry about your leg, what happened?" The fake concern dripped from his voice.

"What do you want Hagan?" Tommy Hagan was Steve's (now possibly former) best friend and a total douche canoe. The only time he ever talked to Eddie was either to insult him or buy poppers. Considering they were in the middle of gym class, it wasn't hard to figure out which the other teen was here to do.

"I hear you came to school with Steve this morning. "

"Yeah, and?"

"Well I just think it's kind of weird. Steve never let's anyone in his car...except his girlfriends."

"My van broke down." Eddie lied, trying to focus on his worksheet. He really didn't want to get in a fight right now. "We're working on a project together, it's no big deal."

"Really?" Tommy snatched the paper out if Eddie's lap despite the taller teen's protests. "See, I think maybe last night you hurt your leg sucking Steve's dick. He's so desperate after that Wheeler bitch he'd go for anything. Even a freak like you." There it was. The not so clever homophobic insults Eddie had come to expect from Steve and the other popular kids. The metalhead rolled his eyes as he snatched the paper back.

"Oh wow, you're so original Hagan. It's so funny I almost forgot to laugh." The school was well aware of Eddie's preferences after a party last year when he'd been caught making out with the Swedish exchange student by Carol Perkins. By the end of the next day Eddie Munson was somehow even more of a social pariah than before. At least Lars got to go back to Sweden without anyone knowing about him while the metalhead was forced to re experience his senior year all over again. Eddie had tough skin but man did he get tired of hearing the same stuff over and over again. "Trust me, if I sucked Harrington's dick, everyone would know about it by now. You two love to brag about that shit."

Eddie was surprised by the look Tommy gave him as the jock reached over and pressed his hand into Eddie's injured leg.

"You stay the fuck away from him. Steve's way too good for some druggie nobody like you. Hargrove too. I've seen the way you were staring at him yesterday. It's fucking disgusting."

Eddie winced in pain as Tommy finally let go of his leg before getting up and rejoining the game.

"Fucking asshole." Eddie muttered under his breath.

"-I'm telling you dude, these new miniatures are bullshit. They're not nearly as detailed as the old ones and the paint doesn't stick as well. Plus they're way too expensive!"

"But the redesign is so much cooler! Listen, I'll show you this beholder one I've been working on-"

Steve had fallen behind Dustin and Eddie as the two kept talking about the weird Dungeons and Dorks game. Initially the curly haired middle schooler had been pissed when Steve had brought the new guy with them to try and lure Dart out but as soon as he realized they both played the same dorky boardgame, they got on like a house on fire. Leaving a path of raw meat along the railroad tracks towards the junkyard to get the demogorgon to follow.

"Think daddy's ignoring us?" Steve jokingly asked the egg in his shirt pocket. The egg's happy sharpied on face stared up at him blankly.

"So, Stevie told me you tried to keep this thing to impress a girl." Steve looked over at the metalhead saying his name.

"Yeah, Suzie. She's super cool and like really smart but I don't know what to say to her. I mean how do you tell a girl you like her?"

"Well I'm not exactly versed in the girl department but maybe you could just tell her that. How hard could it be?"

"Ugh, yeah, gonna cut you off there Munson." Steve interjected. "You can't just say you like a girl. They want you to be romantic. Wait until you feel it."

"Feel what?" The middle schooler asked as his face scrunched up in confusion.

"It's like before a storm. You can feel it. Like electricity. "

"Electromagnetic fields in the air or-"

"No like a sexual electricity. " Steve clarified.

"Oh. Then I kiss her?"

"No, you don't just kiss her. Well with most girls. Some like that. "

"I like that. Sometimes people won't know what you're thinking unless you say it outright." Eddie eyed Steve as he said it. "Sides I don't think the Harrington experience is universal. Not everyone can hypnotize a girl with that magic hair of yours." Eddie leaned back and rustled Steve's hair with his fist until the other teen swatted him away.

"Hey watch it, this took me almost an hour to get it perfect." Steve said and Eddie slinked away from his partner.

"Just be yourself kid. If it was meant to be, it'll be. Weird intergalactic space lizard or not. You don't need three cans of Farah Fawcett hairspray to impress someone you like-"

"Oh my God, you promised you wouldn't mention that to anyone." Steve whined but Eddie just smirked at him as he teasingly poked at the taller boy's side. (To be fair, he was only taller because of the hair) Neither of the teens paying attention to the way Dustin was looking between them.

#eggy #stranger things #fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #egg baby au #eggbert pop #tommy hagan #dustin henderson

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calunasteria · 3 years ago

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please, xanny. | sanzu haruchiyo

"𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚."

- ever wonder how love will feel like if its with sanzu haruchiyo?

current word count: 2.3k

tw (throughout the series): mentions of drug use and abuse, manipulation (gaslighting) and toxic relationships, mentions of blood, death, and murder, rape (attempt), use of deadly weapons, slight nsfw (??) - kindly tell me if i missed one. thank you.

date started: 07/29/21 (wattpad) | 07/31/21 (tumblr)

date ended: -

02 ! please, xanny.

i still dont know sanzu's background/backstory so this might be inaccurate but i'll try to edit this out once i'm done with the story and once their backstory is out (akashi siblings).

note: not proofread

sanzu was never the type to associate and talk his feelings, emotions, and ideas out loud, not unless if it became too much for him to handle. he was never the type to play hero for someone he barely knows because his heart and mind can only let few people in. once he made up his mind about something, or fixated his loyalty for someone, it can never ever waver.

so for him to do such actions to help this girl infront of him, with tear stained face, ruined polo shirt, and ripped cardigan, under the hazy moonlight, with crisp consternation in the air - was definitely something he wouldn't do on normal occasions.

he doesn't know, his body, and his will just shifted and had a strong urge to help when he heard a familiar yet hoarse voice crying for help, when its literally 3 in the morning in a deserted area.

he and kasumi never shared a conversation before the incident, yet he always admired the way she carries herself with confidence, while her eyes says otherwise, for her ebony orbs were almost dead with dwindling light and maybe that's the reason why he, sanzu haruchiyo is somehow interested in her, inconspicuously.

bright, gleaming rays of the golden sun that passed through the transparent glass window woke kasumi up as it was another day, another day to deal with numerous shits with monotonous routines. but this time, she has an objective to go talk to someone. she has something to look forward to for today.

but was completely shut down when she can't get ahold of the man she was trying to find and talk to. he wasn't at his classroom. he didn't attend his classes either - he wasn't at the school.

why? did i do something wrong? kasumi cogitated. she was hopeful to bring him his jacket back and to formally say her thank you to him, but he wasn't even around. and after a few hours of thinking where he might be and why back and forth, she came to a conclusion that maybe he needs to do something else or that something came up that's why he was absent - but as another day goes by, she never saw sanzu haruchiyo again.

he was avoiding her. and she doesn't know what to feel. she was conflicted and amused because how can he avoid her when they literally study in the same school?

"if he doesn't wanna show himself to me, then fine. all i want to do was to say thank you." she sighed as she walked to their house. booming voices and gut wrenching sobs was heard inside, that caught kasumi's attention making her rush towards their front door, frantically opening the doorknob to see what was happening.

"man, she's still not here huh." kaoru pouted as she sat down on their usual place, but the only difference is that kasumi is not present. and its been days since kasumi stopped going to school and attending her part time jobs- and sanzu knows that something was definitely up. although he can't find any information about kasumi's whereabouts and he was somewhat frustrated so he decided to go on a local bar to drink something when he saw a familiar figure, face lying down on a table, multiple empty alcohol bottles found near her.

what the fuck is she doing here, haruchiyo pondered as he rushed towards the unconscious girl. "hey. wake up." he shook kasumi's shoulder making the girl grumble and squint her eyes towards the person who woke her up. her head was wobbly, and her vision was kinda blurry but she recognised the scent that was bewitching her system at that moment.

"sanzu!" she beamed, lifting her head up to see the man before her, eyebrows furrowing as he can now see her upclose - busted lips and eyebrows and an evident chestnut color with a hint of purple and blue bruise across her face. and he felt that again. he felt this urgency back then when he helped her on that night and here he is ushering and helping kasumi out to stand up, head empty just him following what his system is doing.

"stand up. can you walk?" he asked as he tried to hold kasumi up, her eyes unfocused and somewhat lost. "yep!" she chimed in trying to steady her movements as she was now aware that the person she was trying to find last week was now here in front of her.

"really?" sanzu lifted one of his eyebrows, as kasumi tried to shoo away his arms that was supporting her weight to keep her from falling down. "yes, now let me go." and sanzu did, making kasumi almost stumble down as her vision is still swirling, but sanzu caught her waist gracefully before she fell down.

"hold my hand, kasumi, or i'll carry you outside. you choose." sanzu offered and kasumi noticed the genuine concern hinted on his stern voice.

she took his hand all while sanzu swiftly intertwined their hands together, holding her closely, enough for her to feel his warmth that soothed her overflowing emotions these past few days.

he opened the door's car and guided her inside, setting her down carefully as he walked towards the driver's seat to go start the car.

"wait, where are we going? why did i followed you here?" kasumi blinked earning a small scoff from the man beside her.

"why don't you ask your alcohol intoxicated system, nakashima-san?" he was definitely grinning, but kasumi was too tired to argue and her head was wobbling around as if she's swimming in a tide pool.

"were sobering you up." was the last thing she heard from sanzu before car engine started and the scenery before her starts fading away into illuminated lights.

the car came to a halt breaking the deep reverie kasumi was in, and there she noticed that they were infront of a small coffee shop with a very people in, since its already midnight. "were here," sanzu spoke softly, as he grab another jacket on the backseat tossing it to kasumi who's still processing the things that are happening.

as she stepped out of the car, she was greeted by a sharp, cool, wintry breeze that hit her face gently. her vision is still whirling and she still feels lightheaded because of all the drinks she had but she's in a better state now than she was earlier.

the coffee shop was decorated with retro styled lightbulbs that hanged on wooden ceilings, walls with floating shelves that have books and two and tiny succulents, vintage designed portraits, landscapes, and paintings and the ambience tasted like vanilla and sleepless nights as the coffee's aroma permeated their sensation.

"what do you want to order?" sanzu asked, hands inside his pocket, eyes scanning the menu on the screen at the counter, still wearing his face mask.

"just hot chocolate." kasumi replied, as she fumbled with her wallet handing money to sanzu that just walked past her, quickly muttering her to just sit down and wait for him.

kasumi just stared at sanzu while she waited for him who was now at the counter, ordering and it was not long after he came back with a paper bag and hot chocolate on both his hands.

the paper bag contains a box of chocolate cookies that is freshly baked. "who's this for?" she asked, eyebrows raising at sanzu all while he just blankly stared at her.

"for you." he replied nonchalantly as he went outside the coffee shop, kasumi trailing behind him with so many questions pivoting in her head.

"but i only ordered hot choco? and here's the money. how much is the cookies though?" she protested, trying to keep up with his pace and she noticed that sanzu walked pass his car that was parked a few meters from the coffee shop.

"hey, where are you going? kasumi stomped her foot and sighed loudly because sanzu was ignoring all her questions and she doesn't even know where this man is going.

"sanzu haruchiyo!" she called out, still dizzy and frustrated because of how he ignores all her protests and actions and it was as if sanzu snapped out of his train of thoughts after he heard kasumi yell out his name, he then turned around to see her face tainted with color of crimson red, eyebrows furrowed, and a slight pout on her mouth.

"i'm sorry. just follow me, and you'll see." he went back to her with a few steps, taking the paperbag in her hand so she can drink her beverage while he walks towards the nearby beach. kasumi just followed silently, saving all her questions for later. the walk they shared was quiet yet comfortable even though the wind was all they can hear, and some car or vehicles driving past them.

once they reached their destination, kasumi's hot chocolate drink was long gone and the scenery before her got her awestruck and her breath was taken away.

there was no one on the beach except for them, the sound of the waves crashing was a melody in their ears, and the breeze that blew from the horizon tasted like salt and tranquillity. the sky was painted with dwindling gray, the darkest navy blue, and black ink, with the stars, constellations and crescent moon that adorned the cosmos.

they momentarily locked eyes before kasumi went ahead and ran towards the shore, the sweet and gilded sand soaked her feet was rough, yet the waves was gentle and caring.

everything was so beautiful.

she was beautiful, haruchiyo thought. as her raven hair rode through the wind current and her soft facial features was highlighted by the dim illumination of the moon.

kasumi was playing in the sand when she sat down and admired the sky's reflection on the ocean and it was not long after sanzu sat down too, his zircon gem colored eyes glimmering like the stars that hanged on the night sky. its a shame why he still has his face mask on though.

"thank you, sanzu. for everything," she smiled as she looked at him with adoration, their eyes locked with each other, both orbs filled with unsaid emotions, "but why? why are you being so kind to me? when you barely even know me?"

sanzu just stared at her, unable to answer.

because he himself doesn't even know the answer. why? why did he help her and why does he keep on involving himself with her?

"i don't know." he whispered, words getting lost within the soft breeze blowing from the horizon. "but how about you?" he spoke, as he look towards kasumi who's intently looking at him.

"what do you mean? i didn't do anything much." she replied, her heart getting heavier as the moment passes, being in that place now reminds her of the past she can never bring back.

"you have a bruise on your face. you have a busted lip. you weren't attending school and your part time jobs too. we came here so that you can atleast let go of all your problems." sanzu blurted out, making kasumi turn her head towards sanzu, eyes blinking with amusement while a soft chuckle escaped her lips, stretching it into a wide grin.

sanzu looked confused at her reaction, "no, its just that, you literally said a whole paragraph there, i was shocked. you never said anything more than 10 or more words." she explained, as she lay down on the sand, staring at the stars.

"its just, everything is so shitty. i just found out that my father cheated on my ill and sick mom and he raised his hand at her, and that everytime he'd go out he'll just go whoring around with his bitch downtown. and when i stood up for my mom? he beat me up too. god, when the fuck did it all went wrong?" kasumi ranted, tears falling down her eyes non stop as she let out everything that's been hunting her these past few days all while sanzu just listened intently, his heart sinking slowly in behalf of what kasumi had vented.

"there's no such thing as a perfect family, but that doesn't justify what your father did to you." he muttered, and kasumi sat up, wiping away her tears.

"say, sanzu-"

"haruchiyo." he corrected, voice unwavering.

kasumi was astonished. man, he was definitely full of surprises and as the moment they both share together, stretches on, she felt more and more comfortable with his presence. "haruchiyo, can you remove your mask, please?" she asked, and sanzu was taken aback by her request and he doesn't want to remove it yet his hands moved on his own.

why?

is it normal to feel so fucking connected to a person who doesn't even know you before what happened? to feel so comfortable to someone who barely knows you? to feel so secured with someone whom you only shared a few words and moments with?

he doesn't know.

he doesn't know anymore.

his long, slender, and veiny hands moved towards his face mask and finally removed them.

he thought that she might find it unpleasant, and hideous, just like what other people think, so he just hang his head low but then he felt her warm hands lift his chin up, there he saw her with genuine, fond smile, eyes full of affection.

and oh how sanzu fell in love that moment.

but of course he's not gonna admit it.

he just thinks that its the alcohol with her. yeah. she's still drunk, probably. the male mused, trying to convince himself.

both of them talked and stared at the stars for a long time before kasumi fell asleep. but then after that night, the girl disappeared. she never went to school ever again, nor to her part time jobs.

it was as if what happened that night was a dream.

#bonten #bonten tokyorev #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers kokonoi #toman sanzu #tokyo revengers fanfiction #sanzu fanfiction

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idjitlili · 4 years ago

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Hello there.

Kili x reader x obi-wan(slightly)

(Not my image)

Summary: Annoying the company with your 'sword' pretending it's not a metal sword, being unladylike. When in fact it wasn't a sword...it was a lightsaber.

Word count:6036

Warnings: Obi-wan , language, food stealing, dwarf nudity, put some clothes on!

Y/h/c= Your home country.

It was no secret, that you weren't from middle earth, with your strange speech, strange references, oh and the simple fact that you had fallen from the sky knocking Kili right out. Not just Kili but yourself before. You would've been quite embarrassing; if you were awake. Lucky you.

When you eventually you did awake, you were surrounded by below average height men , and man with a grey hair and wizards hat. One of the smaller men? Or dwarf you weren't sure if this was even real, it was strange to see such shorter men. His hair dark, shoulder length, not styled well compared to all the others, as for his beard..it was just stubble. The other men had long braided beards.

Yet there sat this man, very different to the others , barely with it, like he had hit his head, there you felt it , your head felt like your brain was going to pop out. You noticed , a smaller fellow jumping behind the small man to see, his curly blond her upon his head, was all to be seen.

The man that looked right out of a wrestling ring, glared at you , judging you, as did the one with ocean eyes and majestic hair. You hands behind you in the dry dirt, your heart beating heavily, shaking almost. "Uhm, w-what is h-" you didn't even get a sentence out before you were interrupted by the beardless short man.

"Well you fell out of the sky and fell on me, knocking me straight out." The man was not quite happy, "uhm, I guess I'm sorry? I didn't plan from falling from the sky, I'll try next time to see where I'm falling, but oh right, I never consented to be thrown from the sky, last time I was conscious I was- actually I do not remember." Blabbering on, even though really you should be terrified.

In the end , Gandalf and Thorin questioned you, as if they were Holt and Terry, Gandalf being Terry.

"Where do you come from, human?" The mans face frowning, the same as he had as you awoke, he spoke with sternly, as if you were a threat. Extremely intimidating. Now the others had left ,as you now sat in front of the two men.

"Uh, y/h/c." Their clothing didn't sit right with you, nor did you ever see anyone with such extreme hair styles. Maybe it was a cult? The old man , and the slightly younger man looked at each other , then back to you , clearly confused, well the younger one anyways.

"Tell me dear, have you ever heard of Erebor?"

Thus, for whatever reason you were apart of this dwarven company, as it were. No one was sure what in gods earth caused you to be here, well there's no 'God' in middle earth, not called God anyways.

Honestly, you didn't know what to do with yourself: no blankets, no spare clothes, no nothing except you , your thin graphic t-shirt, jeans and shoes. Thorin was definitely no help, oh yes and no money. Who would accept plastic notes as currency here? Nor were coins from where you lived were made from gold.

Oh wait you did actually have something other than you and your clothes , you had tiny little sword, which was in fact just an letter opener, you must've been opening the post before you fell out of the sky.

Not only was it awkward between you and all the dwarves, you did not fit in. Oh yes, Gandalf explained to you that elves and wizards existed, basically explained everything. Thorin had decided this was the place they would rest for the night, so you didn't have to do any travelling... except from falling out of the sky.

You could only think, it must suck to shit squatting, oh yes you'd have to face shitting the forest soon enough... without toilet paper too. It is not even like you can be certain that no one is going to walk into the forest and find you shitting or even worse no pads bleeding out.

You were definitely not looking forward to that, since there was no confirmation that you'd be getting home anytime soon.

So, now as the day grew dark, you sat against a large rough pine tree, the cold from the ground rising up your body. Knees pulled right up to your chest, your arms tight around, as goose bumps covered you like paint covers a wall. Hair dropping down your face as you leaned forward head on top of your knees.Staring at your feet, and the ground.

You thought on what your family must think, maybe it was like the labyrinth and they had forgotten that you had even existed. Bloody hell, Jareth, you didn't even wish for this to happen.

Not breaking out of thought when three pairs of boots, and a pair of overly large hair feet, were stood in front of you. "Lass?" Even then, you didn't realise, only noticing their presence when a hand was placed onto your shoulder.

Only then did you realise, looking up to see the the beardless man that you knocked out, somehow, another man with a hat , the other below average height man that looked like lion cross Seth rogen , and the jumping small fellow. "O-oh hi?" Strange that's the only way you could put it, the two brunettes grinning largely down at you.

"Excuse their bad manners, my lady. That is Kili, my brother , Bofur, and this little fellow is Bilbo Baggins... Oh right, and I am Fili at your service." Each of them doing a little bow, Bilbo's face redden a little , being called little. What did he expect, 'Oh yes, this giant fellow with the fat ass is Bilbo.' Them staring at you waiting for you to introduce yourself.

"Uh, I'm y/n." Standing up , daring to do a small curtsey, with a small blush, surprised really that anyone had even approached you.

"Beautiful name, perfect, I guess I'm falling for you already, miss y/n , you know since you knocked me out."

You almost blushed at the m-Kili's words, now blushing in embarrassment. "I didn't me-" "he's only messin' with yer, lass, don't yer worry," The hatted dwarf know as Bofur had smiled at you, only to get a jab in the side by kili, only for him to return it twice as hard.

"I'm sorry, miss y/n? I'm just wondering about your clothing-" Bilbo had began to questions your clothing choice, only to be interrupted, bad manners? Definitely. "Yes, those pants are very lovely, can you do a spin-" "OI," A big muscly man, the one that had glared at you earlier had smacked the beardless dwarf on the back of his head, letting out a Yelp of pain.

"What I was going to say, before I was rudely interrupted was, are you not cold? You are barely dressed!" You had choked out a snort, at the hobbit , who had glared at Kili, he really did not like dwarves interrupting, well anyone, he's not racist.

"I'm not dressed? You've got no socks on! My mum would have scolded me, even if I just got out of the bath. 'Y/n, where's your socks! You are going to get ill! Y/n, I don't care if you have just sat down, go get your bloody socks on.' " Starring back at you feet, now stretched across the mud, it was incredibly awkward, well until they had started laughing.

"That's just like our Amad, right, fee?" Kili had called to his brother, before sitting down on the mud near you. "Oh yes, remember when Amad told you not eat all that cake-" Looking over to Kili who's face flushed red, interrupting his brother.

"Don't you dare." Bofur , Fili and Bilbo sat down, you sat in a circle, Fili trying to hold back from laughing. "Well ye gotta tell us now,Fili." Bofurs hand supported his head eager for Fili to continue. Bilbo the same, he loved stories. Kili's pleading eyes, were no match for his brother.

"Alright, so he ate all the cake, this stuff was heavily creamed, sweets covered it, it could feed 12 dwarves, that's saying a lot. Our Amad strictly told us, mostly Kili, not to eat it."

Fili's moustache braids jiggled as he talked, very distracting, letting out a small chuckle while talking a breath. "Anyways, Amad woke up in the morning, she was not happy at all, she had yelled so loud, that me, Kili, and Thorin were awoken from upstairs. All three of us rushed down the stairs, to see the table with no cake, just the plate. Amad stood there with her face redder than a smacked bosom, hands on her hips."

Kili face now in his hands, Fili grinning larger and larger by the second. " She had looked all three of us done, before calling Kili towards him, and it was dreadfully obviously his hair had cake crumps throughout it, he got scolded so bad."

"Is that it ," Bilbo was disappointed with the outcome, he had thought it would've been more suspenseful. "No master Baggins, Thorin later took us for training with Dwalin as well as many other viewers. Basically what happened was Dwalin threw him over his head and he landed on the floor, when he finally tried to stand up he let loose the loudest wet fart. Then, he stood up and the back of his pants were covered, and out the ends of his trousers... he had to walk home like that."

Bursts of laughter had erupted through the circle, Kili just looked horrified with his brother, placing your hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up to you, with a sad smile.

"Don't feel bad, someone I knew yawned up to the sky and a bird shat in her mouth, to make matters worse she was afraid to tell anyone so she spat it out, and stood there with bird shit taste."

Looking at you wide eye, "T-they did what?"

"A bird shat in their mouth."

"Such crude language, yet suddenly I feel much better." Kili smiling up to you, the other three still laughing about Kili's shitty pants.

A friendship between you and the dwarf ,you knocked out, began. Over the months you had gotten more comfortable with the company.

Soon enough you were all captured by trolls, but you were sleeping so, you woke up and everyone was packing to leave. You were very confused indeed, Thorin had announced that you all were leaving for a troll cave.

Gandalf had merged after Thorin with two swords , calling you and Bilbo over. Wow, free stuff.

What Gandalf had not expected was your behaviour later on at Rivendell... Bathing and changing at Rivendell, eating some rabbit food, it was soon time for second dinner and after that bed.

Roaming the grounds of Rivendell the next month, you had bumped into Bilbo. That's when it started, you had already been messing with your sword. When Bilbo had approached you, seeing your cheeky grin he didn't know whether to run.

"M-morning ,miss y/n?" Speaking uncertain of himself, partly nervous, you had been pretty unpredictable, you know falling out the sky?

"Morning ,Bilbo! How are you feeling?" Swinging your sword in like it was baton or baseball bat, almost dropping flat on your face.

"I'm fine , thank you. Uh..." The sword now between your legs, swinging it around. "Bilbo look, it's my cock." Bilbos face now red, your crude language tended to fluster the poor hobbit, sorry the rich hobbit.

"Miss y/n, I do not think that's quite appropriate.." You head snapping towards the hobbit, your face dropped, instantly Bilbos mouth is gapped. "Oh- I didn't mean any offence." Taking a step forward, Bilbo had stepped back , another and another.

Bilbo had ended up sprinting , you chasing him, well until an elf had offered you pastry's. Continuing your walk around the grounds, munching on your pastry, distracted by your breakfast you didn't notice the dwarf in front of you until the last second.

"Where's your trousers?!" You had made eye contact with something other than his eyes, it was painfully obvious. Meeting his actual eyes, the smirk on his face, concluded that he had seen you check him out, flushed pink cheeks.

"Fili took my clothes."

"Why would he want to see you running around naked,-cover up gosh!" Your voice getting higher by the second.

"Well, my lady with what?" You had thrown your pastry at the dwarf, now quite put off; even though his size was quite large. Instead covering himself he began to eat the remaining amount of the pastry.

You had scoffed, walking around the dwarf, away from his naked body.

What did catch you off guard again was a man popping out from a pillar , his longish hair blond, his eyes ocean blue, his beard trimmed, his shirt beige , with a brown leather belt around his waist. You didn't know how to describe it, you jumped when he spoke.

"Hello there,"

How could be here? In a land of dwarves, elves and wizards? It was Obi-wan Kenobi, surely he should've been in the high ground? I mean, chopping some legs...so Anakin is leg a less, because his legs Aragorn.

"General Kenobi!" Kili had to turned around, to see you running at a strange man, who was General Kenobi, turning back round he had stomped off back to the company... to gossip.

"What are you doing here, Obi-wan?" His arms held behind his back as you two walked through Rivendell together, the truth was that you had never met before.

"I'm here because of you, y/n...the Council has sent me to help you. The universe is in great danger, again."

Then, you found out your real purpose was in middle earth; to save the line of Durin, With Obi-wan Kenobi as your master you as the pad awan. However, of course you did not have the force, he was just going to teach you how not to be damsel in distress.

You didn't know how this would bring you so close to the Jedi knight..

Obi-wan, had hid until half a day from Rivendell, when you had gestured him to come out, Kili had let out the most over dramatic gasp possible. "I told you he was real!"

That definitely caught the attention of the whole company, stopping, turning , drawing there weapons, Fili pulling you out the way.

"Why are you following us?" Thorins voice boomed over the winds, you couldn't imagine how your eardrums would certainly burst if he had a microphone. Getting of the grips of the dwarves again, standing between Obi-wan and the axes of the company.

Little Bilbo just watched the slope of the mountain with amusement. "What are you doing, y/n?!"

"You stubborn dwarves, if I was walking with him with no fuse, you'd think that he was with me, he's here to help me." Kili had scoffed, nor did any of other dwarves look convinced, Obi-wans hands on his hips, puffing his chest, revealing his lightsaber.

"I've had enough, I don't care what you say Thorin, he is my protection, he's not taking any of the reward, now let's go, he is not the enemy." Maybe you told a small lie, it would not go down well if Thorin knew Obi-wan was there to protect him and his nephews.

"At the front, both of you, now." And you were walking again, you and Obi-wan at the front.

Though, all together you were from three different universes, you from one which starwars was just a set of films, and series. It felt weird. Knowing he died, old, and he didn't look himself.

"Wait, so, Qui-Gon basically died of STDs, because he so many that it slowed him down? I thought it was a rule not have attachments; but he could sleep around?" I mean, if that's the case... you are very handsome, I'm not the best looking, nor have I ever.."

Your face felt hot, that was more than light flirting, really you had only known him for 27 hours, your crush on him though, that developed from watching him on screen.

Now concentrating on where you were going, surprised when Obi-wan had let out a laugh.

"My lady, you must be mistaken, you are absolutely beautiful." Your face flushed pink, wrapping your arm around Obi-wan's arm, his eyes watched you as you did, not hilding hands or anything just his arm. There are times in life when words are not needed.

Soon enough it was time to stop, when the company approached a large path on the mountain, so big that the company could sit in a circle if they desired. Along the way many of the dwarves had collected sticks and branches for a fire.

Right against the mountain wall you had set up your bed roll, and dropped your cloak from the elves on it as a blanket, you were sure to remember to share with Obi-wan later. Obi one had copied you, dropping his cloak neck to yours, as you both stood next to each other, the sky now dark, the smell of dinner lingered in the air.

The glow of the fire lit up Obi-wan's face, his beard now more orange, his blue eyes focused on you.

"Hey, um, Obi-wan...can I hold your lightsaber?" His hands on his beige tunic, eyeing you down, one of a second, before handing you the weapon.

The lightsaber, heavy in your hands, yet still you were swinging it like you were playing tennis on the wii. "Um, Obi, can I please..?" Turning to face the Jedi with pleading eyes, he just shrugged his shoulders casually nodding.

With that you had pressed the button, there stood the blue blade in front of your very eyes. Bilbo had noticed almost immediately spitting out his food, who in their right mind would give her a weapon?

Noticing Bilbos sudden uncomfortableness, grinning at him, as the saber made its way between your legs. "Hey Bilbo,Check out how big my dick is!" Bilbo had put his bowl of food down, and his behind Thorin, brooding.

"Uhm, lass? What is that?" Bofur wearily, spoke, eyeing the saber not blinking,like many other dwarves. Balin flinching as you waved it between your legs.

"It's a lightsaber, the weapon of Jedi's. Hey, Kili, sorta looks like your dick ,if it was a hundred times smaller. " Not that you were looking at Kili, his face flushed as he chocked out his stew, Thorins eyes burning into the back of the head, he would speak to him later.

"Oi, when did you get a look at Kees , lad?" Fili wan most amused at the situation, Kili knocking him in the ribs.

"Well , what happened was I got a pastry at Rivendell, and Kili almost whacks into me. Yeah, and he was naked, so, not that I like to give away food, I throw the pastry at him and Obi-wan appears and saves me. End of story."

Now swinging the lightsaber like it was a golf club, you wondered if Obi-wan had to charge his lightsaber. Kili now standing up , walking over to you as the dwarves forget about the story, simply because it wasn't rare that they went around naked.

"Oi, Kili , throw that stick at me, so I can hit it."

Kili had planned on telling you a piece of his mind, how his dick was not small, but there you were not a care in the world, waiting for him to pick up the stick.

His eyes searched the stone floor when his eyes catch, a thick stick not a twig. Without a thought he threw it, your eyes waiting, standing like you were going to play baseball or rounders. Swinging your arm slicing through the stick, causing it to slam to the floor in two separate pieces.

"I'm sorry, but what in middle earth is a Jedi and why do they have that, what even is that!"

Obi-wan just stood by you chest puffed, huge smirk on his face, as Kili ranted slightly , fear embedded in his eyes as he stood back as you swung the weapon around more, it was not surprising that the company were also in slight shock.

"This man is a Jedi." Pointing at Obi-wan before turning fully towards him, ignoring the others questions. "Okay, now teach me, master..." A grin across your face, as Obi-wan took the saber from your hands, turning it off, before standing behind you.

Turning your back into place, your feet in the correct stance, his back against yours as ushered you take your sword from his hands. His hot breath briefly against your neck. Once you had done, his back peeled from yours, and he had done the same.

Throughout the next months, Obi-wan had continued to teach you how to defend yourself

, Kili always disagreeing on Obi-wand methods, suggesting he would be better to teacher you.

That was until you were all captured at Mirkwood. Of course, Obi-wan tried to use the force on the elves, however , due to being immortal they weren't easily controlled. Somehow he did it still, only allowing you and him to escape, due to being human. What you didn't understand though, why was Obi-wan such a flirt.

The blond elf, the one that looked straight off like a princess, had stared at you and Obi-wan with his eyebrows raised. His light foot steps, couldn't be heard as he glided towards you both, standing close to Obi-wan, as the dwarves were search. Legolas excluding you two from it, using the side of your body to hide the lightsaber at Obi-wan's belt.

"Why are two humans travelling with dwarves?" Was this elf wearing tights? David Bowie could get away with it because that ass and overall god looks, but the colour scheme on this blond elf was not it. Wondering if his dick could even breathe, maybe it shrank.

Looking at Obi-wan, who was smouldering at the elf, his lips slightly pushed out his blue eyes sharp, his long hair flowing. But..there was no wind. His hand doing a weird gesture like waving.

"We are not, we are trying to get lake town, as I have finally decided to meet my darlings parents. You will let us go." You were surprised when Obi-wan had wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close to him. Your eyes wide, you really didn't think you were going to get out of this, how many times had you all been captured? Too many times.

"Go, follow the path, goodbye." Obi-wan had quickly let go of your waist , talking your hand, pulling you away, false smiles on your faces as you left. Trying not raise suspicion, Kili had watched the whole thing, scoffing in disgust, watching you and Obi-wan walking away.

You wanted to help the dwarves you really did;but Obi-wan had assured you they didn't need your help. You both waiting in the safe forest outside of the woodland realm, waiting for the dwarves.

Not only had Obi-wan had taught you basic defensive skills, but you had became extremely close. Here you were, stuck in a forest, no bedrolls no nothing, due to Azog. Nights were cold, so cold, as Obi-wan's duty to protect you, you both decided for your survivals there was only one way.

The fire low, so that you would not be detected by Orcs, Obi-wan and you snuggling up together, his arms around your waist, knees tucked under yours. Body heat being the only thing from stopping you both freezing to death.

During this week, what disturbed you the most, was Obi-wan's french accent...Considering there was no earth in the star-wars universe. If that matter you weren't sure. He'd pop the accent out at random moments, going to bathe in a stream?

"Do you need a chaperone, mon amour?" No, he did not go in the water with you, he just stood guard, holding his arm out to walk you to the stream and even back. Though you did have to wait by the stream while he was bathing , with his lightsaber in your hand, just in case.

However,one day when you you were bathing Obi-wan had almost had a heart attack when you let a gasp, running out of the hair all across your face, running smack into him. Your bare body against his robes, soon as he made eye contact with you he knew it was nothing life threatening.

"When I said 'You don't have time to be timid, you must be bold and daring' this was not what I mean." Obi-wan's stuck to yours , reassuring your privacy, even though his back was against the mud , your whole body pressed against him. Again with the accent, Obi-wan's smile small, your hands against his chest, as laugh erupted from your mouth.

"What is, Ma Cherie?"

"Only reason I'm laying on you butt naked is because a fish brushed against my leg." Obi-wan's once sincere face replaced with a grin you snuffled your laughter against his neck. Your cold skin against his , as vibrations travelled through his body, a laugh from his lips travelling to your ears. A few minutes passed, with you just against Obi-wan as you laughed together.

"This would be very embarrassing ,if the company found us now."

"I'll close my eyes, and you can go get dressed,"

That was it with that, Obi wan would never disrespect your modesty, it is not like when Kili had shown off on purpose.

The next day, you had caught up with the company and an injured Kili. However, the french accent was not lost...

Kili's faced laced with sweat, as you and Obi-wan made your way to the compan, his eyes met yours. He felt relieved that you had came back, yet anger still bubbled down in inside.

"I thought ye had left us." Bofur popping up infront of you two, his eyebrow raise.

"No, figured from I heard about that king , it was not the best if he had got a hold of Y/n, it is my mission to protect y/n." Bofur , along with Gloin, Dori and few others nodded in agreement.

Your eyes drifting from Obi-wan's face, back to Kili, his thigh seeping with blood,you had grabbed Obi-wan by the hand pulling him over with you towards Kili. Obi-wan meeting your eyes once again, confused with your actions. "Obi.. help him."

Letting go of your hand, Obi-wan had brought his hand over the wound, Kili tried to protest, only to be shut down by Fili. Kili felt tugging on his skin, the pain slowly disappearing, a few seconds late Obi-wan had remove his hand, stood up, made his way back to you. "W-what? H-how did you?"

This is what you and Obi-wan were sent here to do, save the line of Durin. After that, not even seconds Bard had arrived, the company was on their way again, no delays, except being caught by the master, which kind of annoyed

Obi-wan, getting to be called that without being a Jedi , disgraceful.

After that, it was one more boat ride away, and climbing more mountains. Within three hours , you feet began to blister, the knocks harsh, you wondered how Bilbo could do it, he was a happy chappy. Obi-wan next to you, had immediately picked up on you change. His eyes caught onto yours like a magnet, within seconds you were on his shoulders, hanging. Just like Anakin had carried him unconscious, he could've carried you anyway way but he decided on potato sack really?

"B-Ben!" The little shriek had erupted from your mouth in surprise, in reality it sounded like he had just made you orgasm. Your face flushed, as Obi-wan grip tightened around your thigh. "Yes, Ma Cherie?" Again with Obi-wan doing the french accent, letting out a groan.

"Never mind." For the next three hours you are carried on Obi-wan's shoulders, you couldn't imagine how his back feels. There's no negotiating with the negotiator. Your stomach ached from just being on his back. You did get to sleep for a while, which was great.

“Obi, I can walk now." Your face next the side of his face, softly speaking to him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." With that you were back on the ground, walking with the rest of the company, though you didn't speak to many of the other dwarves much, you found yourself away from Obi-wan and in the company of Fili, who had left the company of his brother. Your conversation had started out normal, Fili telling you about the Elves, and Bilbo saving them.

"Are you courting the man?" Eyes widening at the dwarves words, it was no doubt that you had liked him watching him on screen, but no way he had made advances, had he? He could not, it's not the Jedi way. Why did he flirt with you all the time. As you two grew close, you felt you chest tightening, you could feel that way. Just months ago you had felt the same for Kili, but then Obi-wan had appeared.

"No, why do you ask?" Your face felt hot, unbearably hot, embarrassed that you had been clearly flirting back to Obi-wan.

"It's just that my brother... don't know if you have noticed he has been not himself, and well I think it's because of you and Obi-wan." Fili whispered to you, you could barely hear him, but when you did make out what he was saying, why would Kili not himself because you and Obi-wan, had you offended him some how?

"What do you mean? Why would it be our fault?" It was not appropriate but a chuckle still left his lips, Fili could not understand how you could be so blind.

"You and Obi-wan flirt publicly a lot..." Then it hit you, the reason Kili could barely look at you anymore, you had not really ever have someone like you let alone possibly two. Blush upon your cheeks, "Oh.."

"Now, you must understand, y/n , if you don't feel for him, you must put him down, do you love Obi-wan?" Turning you face back to look at Obi-wan, who had been watching his steps, as he talked to Bilbo, who seemed to be deep into conversation. When Obi-wan's blue eyes had finally caught yours, his lips had turned up in a smile, before you turned back to the blond haired dwarf.

Fili's moustache braids jigging, as you all walked, waiting for your response.

"Jedi's aren't allowed attachments; it would never work out."

“Do you love him?” Repeating the same question, how could you know if you loved him, why would it matter it would never work out, Fili clearly didn’t want his brother heartbroken because you couldn’t decide.

“I d-don’t know, Fee,”

“Do you love Kili?”

“Really, Fili, I don’t know.”

Fili, had suggested to speak to Kili later, what if you only loved Obi-wan platonically?

Once Thorin had stopped the company for the night, and when the sky was dark. Only the glow of the fire upon your faces, Fili had left his brother on a log, making eye contact with you, gesturing for you to swap with him. Sitting upon the rough log, thighs touching, Kili had turned slightly jumping when realising it was you, his brown eyes now looking to yours with the flame of the fire reflected into them. His face with no expression at all, he didn’t even say anything to you. A string of pain, flowed through your heart, you hadn’t realised how you hadn’t spoken to Kili in months, properly anyways.

You had wrapped your arms around Kili neck, your cold flesh against Kili’s neck, as you pulled him into a tight hug, slowly he had accepted it. Wrapping his arms around your waist tightly, his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply, his dark hair, tickling your neck.

“I’m sorry, Kili.” Pulling away, Kili brows scrunched together, his dark eyes searching your face, he thought he had done something wrong, and was going you space, also think mostly that you and Obi-wan were courting. However, Fili had informed him that you were not courting, he wished he could scold his older brother, for being nosy.

“W-why?” He had been jealous of your behaviour towards Obi-wan no doubt about that, but you shouldn’t have to apologise for his feelings, you could like anyone you wanted, you are beautiful, bodaciously so.

“Because I haven’t spoken to you for months, it’s not because I don’t like you, it’s just...you promise not to repeat this to anyone, especially your uncle?” Kili knew it, you didn’t like him, but his uncle? Yuck, he couldn’t be mean to you though, you were nothing but nice to him. Instead he just nodded, with a small smile.

“Thank you..the real reason why Obi-wan and I were sent here, well is to keep the line of Durin alive, must have a big effect on all the universes otherwise, two people from separate universes would not have been sent. So, we’ve been keeping this secret, it’s been hard, that’s why I spend so much time with Obi-wan.”

Kili’s eyes never left yours, as you spoke, taking a deep breath before you continued on, you were scared for the safety of your friends, Thorin didn’t care what you were doing , because you and Obi-wan were quiet and kept to yourselves, he saw how effective in battle Obi-wan was and didn’t complain. He needed the man power, there was no doubt about that.

“If I am totally honest, I do love Ben, and if he was allowed to be with me, I wouldn’t be with him, it’s not the way of the Jedi. He is my best friend, that is a gentleman, I’m sorry, but his back must’ve killed carrying me like a sack of potatoes. Plus, when we were waiting for you... I was having a bath, he was on guard and fish brush against me, I went running, fell flat on him, that was definitely not a pretty sight for hi-“

“You what?” Kili was scared to know what you were getting and frankly disturbed that Obi-wan had seen you vulnerable. You had reached and gripped his, large dwarven hand, tightly, rough, yet so warm...

“ Doesn’t matter, he was very respectful. Anyways, what I was getting at Kili, is that.. I c-can’t live within you...I love you, not platonically either, I understand if you don’t feel the same for me. I wouldn’t if I was you.” Before you could blink , his soft lips upon your, your hands in you his hair pulling him close, his hands back around his waist.

You finally felt certain of something.

Bonus:

Kili was not the slightest happy when you accidentally cut a lock of his hair off with the saber.

“Hey, Ben, can I cut your hair too?”

“Fuck off, I’m the only Jedi left with good hair, you touch it you’ll become a baked potato.”

“Okay I’m sorry!”

“mon Cherie , I could never harm you, for I love you like a dog.”

“Oi, stop flirting.” Kili had interrupted, petting his burnt detached hair.

“He just called me a dog, that’s not flirting,”

#obi wan fluff #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #hobbit imagine #hobbit imagines #the hobbit imagines #Kili x reader #kili x you #kili imagines #kili imagine #kili x y/n #the hobbit kili #kili the dwarf #hobbit x you #hobbit x y/n #obi wan imagine #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #crossover

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limenysnocket · 4 years ago

Text

In The Dirt. . . Pt. I

Summary: Welccome to the life of a groupie. Booze, sex, drugs and violence follows you wherever you go, and wherever you go is with the band you're following. The Wilderpeople. You expected to be tossed around the group, but one landed his official dominance over you and made you his and no one else's.

Warnings: Immediate smut, swearing, smoking

Request: A bunch of people, but to name one-- @honorarytenenbaum

A/N: I'm actually quite excited to write this one... Don't be alarmed. There is a LOT of fucking in this series. Enjoy.

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Your teeth clenched and you wiggled your hips, pushing his cock deeper into your soaked walls. He pushed against that one tender spot now. Your moans get louder.

"Told you, if you keep moving, it's only going to get worse~," Taika hummed and chuckled deeply, adjusting himself, then continuing to jot down whatever lyrics came to mind, just from the feeling of your tight pussy around him.

"Well, are you almost done? It's been almost an hour, Tai," you groan, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

"Mm... maybe. Got a few more lyrics," He hummed, resting his free hand on your ass, beneath the shirt he let you borrow with his band logo on the front.

"Taika, I need you to fuck me sooner or later~," you begged and moaned softly, adjusting despite what he says.

"I'm sorry. Who's Taika?" He said, tapping the end of his pen against the paper again, humming. You know exactly what he wants you to call him, and he's made you call him it since the first time he pinned you to a wall, got you on your back, spread your legs and pummeled you until your insides were sore.

"Excuse me," You said quietly, the sarcasm hissing on the tip of your tongue. "I meant, daddy~."

The sound of your sultry tone must have driven him haywire, because he quickly shot you a look, bit his lip and scribbled down lyrics so fast, his handwriting turned to chicken scratch real quick. He threw down his notepad and pen, over on his nightstand, then his hand shot to your hips.

"You're a real fucking piece of work, you know that?" He whispered, his eyes glancing down to look at his cock sheathed in your walls, just beneath the t-shirt.

"Well, if that's a bad thing, it's your fault for making me this way," You teased him without a second thought, but you should have kept quiet, because, before you knew it, he was harshly bouncing you up and down, fucking the life out of you.

The room filled with moans of his name, nickname or complete lust driven gibberish. The sound of skin on skin was obvious and it echoed along the walls, like it always did in any hotel room you stayed in with him.

He was in the middle of giving you a rough, deep hickey to replace the old ones, which were fading out and healing with a disgusting yellow tint, when the bedside phone started to yell at the two of you. You whined and Taika put a finger to his lips while he reached for the phone. "Keep going~. I'll make this quick~," He smirked, placing his now free hand on the back of your head and pushing your face into his shoulder to muffle the delicious moans escaping your mouth.

He picked up the phone, then clicked it on speaker, before returning his hands to your hips, just so he could make your hips go at a slower pace so the squeaks of the bed wouldn't blow your cover. The risk actually turned you on.

"What?" Taika huffed to the phone while staring into your eyes and moving you ever so slowly along his glistening cock.

"Sir, your manager is here to see you. He requests that you come to the lobby promptly and immediately," A snobby, male, hotel employee said through the phone. It almost made you want to snort in laughter. Yeah, good luck getting Taika to go anywhere when he's in the middle of a good fuck.

"How about no," Taika snorted back rudely and smirked, your body was trembling beneath his hands and it was driving him half crazy to not just flip you over and start going ham on your soaked cunt.

"Sir, I'm afraid that--," the employee started, but Taika interrupted them again, by grabbing the phone, saying a loud and almost cheery, "Aaaand we're done," then hanging up the phone.

You were still going at the slow pace he ordered you to go at, during the call, but, as it turns out, just that speed had ticked him off enough. You promptly found yourself on your belly, face pressed against the warm sheets and ass up in the air, like a stretching dog. A pair of hands gripped your asscheeks, then yanked you back to where a hot, hard dick filled you up to the brim. You moaned again, and that fueled the fire. Taika wasted no time on thrusting into you and pounding you until you were weak.

Things were just starting to get interesting, but his phone started to buzz on the nightstand. The screen lit up and partially illuminated the room with a white glow. Taika let out a snarl and reached over to pick it up, his pace unwavering.

"What now?" He nearly spat on his phone. His aggressiveness leaked into his thrusts and made you go wild. You would have been screaming for him, if you didn't have your face buried in the sheets.

"Tai food! There you are!" You heard the sound of Taika's upkept agent over the phone and you could almost feel Taika's cringe when he called him 'Tai food.' Taika hated that name with a burning, undying passion. The only person who he lets call him 'Tai' is you. "Look, man, I seriously need you to come down to the lobby right now. We have some serious business to discuss."

"What's wrong with you coming up here?" Taika grunted, continuing to thrust in and out of you like a madman.

"Do you know how much of a mad house it is with all of you in a room at once? I once caught one of you fucking a groupie on the dining table!" His manager complained over the phone, but it made you and Taika snicker through the pleasure.

"I said it to that dickhead worker and I'll say it to you," Taika hissed, his tongue swiping over his teeth once as his thrusts got deeper and slower for a brief moment for the benefit of your pleasure. "I'm not coming down to the lobby."

"Why not? You can't possibly be busy at this time of day!" His manager sighed.

"I'll have you know, that I'm balls deep in my favorite groupie right now and I'm about to make this. Little. Slut--" He paused between each word to give you a rough thrust that slammed the pleasure into your very core and made you scream his name, despite being on the phone, "--cum all over my cock. So, yeah, I am kinda busy actually. And I would like to be left the fuck alone. Buh-bye." Taika took no shit from the complaints he was getting and all the yelling. He simply hung up and tossed his phone down on the bed where it started to buzz consistently, his manager always being the one to call him.

"God, I love this pussy~. Such a tight little pussy~," Taika groaned into your ear almost breathlessly as he fucked away until your walls pulsed around him. He wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied. That's how it always worked, from the very first night. He was a hard man to satisfy, and that's why he always came back to you. He used to have more groupies, but when you came along, they slowly drifted away due to the lack of attention they received and you became his only one. Morning, noon and night, he got you whenever he wanted and took you everywhere. Whereas the other guys who were apart of the band had maybe a whole plethora of fans and about a dozen groupies in their midst, yet it was strange to see the main singer and guitarist, who had thousands of fans across the world, would only have one as his only. There must be something about you, but you just couldn't see it. Not yet, anyway.

He slapped your ass quite a few times and elicited moans from you're precious little mouth, where he had dumped his load so many times and down the throat where it disappeared. "Such a good girl for daddy, aren't you~?" He groaned and another slap marked its place on your ass. "You know, good girls cum for daddy... right now~."

Drool dripped from the corners of your mouth and your eyes rolled back. His delicious six inch continued to press against every sensitive area in you that existed and drove you crazy, to the point where you burst on him. You watched his eyes slide all the way down where his cock was sliding in and out of your hole. Your thighs glistened in the light of the cellphone and your body untensed and quivered. Eventually, you felt his seed paint your walls and start dripping across your folds. His grip on your hips loosened and the two of you were too busy basking in the euphoria of it all to really notice that the phone had stopped buzzing.

Another smack to your ass broke you out of your post-coitus state and you lurched up a little to look back at the man who just made love to you. "Hope that pussy isn't too sore. Might have to go for another ride tonight~," Taika chuckled, this time giving your bum a softer pat, then he plopped down on the bed, right next to you. He never was much of a cuddler after sex, probably because he must have learned early on to never get attached to a groupie.

Funny, because you were already so attached to him, you wouldn't be able to lose him, but, in his perspective, he could easily flick you away like a pesky Junebug and not even have to think twice about it. You didn't like thinking about this much due to the fact that it left a big, fat dent in your heart, when you did. It always ruined the mood for you, so now, you just stuck with whatever came to mind, besides that subject.

You heard the flicker of a lighter and your drowsy eyes looked up to see Taika working on a freshly lit cigarette. Your bum dropped slowly from the air, until you were just laying on your stomach, hugging the pillow as if it were him in your arms just then, and staring up at him, dreamily. The exhaustion was settling in. This was the second fuck of the day, and it was only 2 PM. You couldn't help but wonder if Taika had any more plans for you tonight, or if you were going to spend the night in his room again, or sleep out in the living room in the groupie pileup. Luckily, Taika hasn't made you do that for months and you've had the luxury of sharing a room with him since then, since he claimed that the other groupies were too dirty for his tastes and preferred you stay away from them, as well as the other bandmembers most of the time.

You briefly stirred and grumbled softly as someone knocked on the door. You nuzzled in under the covers and Taika groaned loudly, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the floor and sliding them on, not caring that he was going commando. His hair was flying, looking like he had blowdried it and never bothered to comb it. It actually didn't look all too bad on him, but then again, there's hardly anything that looks bad on him.

You closed your eyes again as he opened the door and just listened to the conversation.

"Taika! My main man! Pad Tai--" Oh God, it's him.

"Don't call me Pad Tai or Tai food ever again. New ground rules are set and I want that in my contract, otherwise I'm dumping you," Taika put bluntly, leaning against the door to block you away from his manager's prying eyes.

His manager laughed for awhile, thinking it was a joke until he saw Taika's serious expression. You heard him clear his throat and continue on. "I think I got you a little side gig this week, for you and the boys," his manager went on, "you might like it. I heard it's a great place to pick up chicks."

Taika seemed disinterested and you could tell, just by the silence he expressed oh so well. "Fine," Taika breathed and took a drag from his cigarette. "Where's it at?"

"It's just on the other side of town! Real prestigious joint, I gotta tell ya! You and the boys'll have so much fun, and, hey! Maybe you'll expand you're groupie collection, huh?" You could hear the schmucky grin on his face and you knew he was leaning to try and peak at you, but you also knew Taika was constantly getting in the way.

"I'll think about it," Taika huffed, then slammed the door before the screw could say anything else. You turned over on your back and sat up on your elbows to see him running his hand through his curls and smoking the crap out of his cigarette. Once he saw you looking at him, he seemed to perk up and he walked himself right on over to you. He sat down on your side of the bed, just on the edge and caressed your cheek with the hand that wasn't cradling the cigarette between his fingers.

"Think you'll be able to attend the afterparty with me, babe?" He hummed, using the slang term 'afterparty' that just meant drinking with him on the balcony. You grinned and nodded as he took another drag. He grinned too, then leaned in. He parted his lips and soft smile wafted out like fog over a lake, and as he drew closer, it slipped into your mouth.

You had grown addicted to this, suckling on his nicotine flavored lip and you didn't think this was an addiction worth giving up. You didn't even know if this addiction was good or bad either.

#taika waititi x reader #taika waititi #what we do in the shadows #fanfiction #taika waititi imagines #Taika Waititi/You #Taika Waititi X you #Look mom another dirty fanfiction series

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lukasthemedic · 3 years ago

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Tactical Love

Part 1 - Day Zero

"F. Barron" A man in uniform calls out, beckoning you forward from your position in the rows of chairs. Down the line, you are handed uniforms, bedding, materials, even your pistol -- and the feeling in your stomach begins to turn into a fire of determination. Once everyone has been in the line, they take all of your fellow training team and sort you into dormitory style rooms where you have been given five minutes to get your exercise uniform on to begin the first round of testing processes.

Oddly enough, your roommate is one of your first and best friends from elementary school on. He had moved to Hawaii from California where you guys spend high school together when his parents were moved for their jobs in the FBI. You can't help but think that they maybe had some role in this, the two of you getting to stick together after all of these years, but you couldn't be more thankful to have a familiar face to help you along the way, especially friends who know each other so well.

"Come on man, let's so crush this shit." Tucker pulls his shirt down over his head, throwing an arm over your shoulder like you guys were back on the field together in high school. You both pull weighted vests on and strap your gun to your side, taking in a deep breath to steady yourself.

Sweat beads down the side of your face as you drench yourself in more water, realizing the last portion of the testing is just the mile and a half run. The gun fires and everyone begins the last stretch in the first day of training, no one leaving anyone else behind. You feel yourself huff, trying to maintain a steady pace the further along the course you move. The sun is blocked by clouds, small drops of rain beginning to form from the sky, hitting you in the face as you concentrate on the last stretch of the run, wiping the water from your sight as you continue on. Though it's behind dense clouds, the sun is still fierce with it's unforgiving heat that parades down over the faces of all the runners. A whistle blown as each runner crosses the lines is also marked by one of the trainers on the white paper attached to each runner, presenting the passing times on everyone so far. A pale and sweaty Tucker swats your back as he crosses the line after you, tossing water all over himself and clapping with pure enjoyment.

"Nice form." A deep voice, sweet like honey says, his breath hitting you in the forehead as you watch his toned arm write something against your chest. You finally allow yourself a second to steal a look at the familiar voice, realizing at once where you know it from as soon as your eyes clash upon meeting. A wicked grin spreads slowly across his face, carefully watching you.

____

His smile shows perfect rows of pearly white teeth, his scent of faint gunpowder and driftwood, there's something about him that you just can't pin into place. You're trying your best to be concealed, considering you start your Special Agent training tomorrow at five in the morning, and drinking in the bar the night before might not be the best place for anyone to find you, especially with such strict terms attached to everything.

"So what brings you to this area?" He asks, sloshing around the remainder of his drink in the glass, and gently setting it on the table between the two of you.

"Business." You say, clearing your throat, but still unable to completely take your eyes off of the stranger, his glance held with the darkness of your eyes.

"You're all business, aren't you Fletcher." He hums to himself, glancing between you and his glass. "Do you want to take a break?" His head cocks to the side, pure curiosity enveloping his face in a careful smile. You nod your head, feeling yourself lean over the table as Maddox does the same, pulling your chin into his hand, his lips meet yours and you feel yourself melt into him. He laughs into your mouth, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Let me give you a break." He moans hastily into your mouth and you feel short of breath. You taste him and you crave more, following his trailing hand from the crowd as you watch him take you behind him as he weaves in and out of people all around. He's all you can focus on.

____

"Miss me, Fletcher?" Maddox mumbles, intoxicating you with his proximity. Your breath catches in your throat and you feel his soft laugh vibrate around you. "You really are here on business, aren't you."

"Yes, sir." You say, staying level headed. You remember the feeling of his strong hand on your face and you keep your eyes directly under his stare. You remember how he felt under you, how he cried out your name. He didn't seem to be someone you could easily peg for working for the FBI, but then again anyone could probably say the same for you and here we are.

"Because I miss you." He growls softly under his breath, grabbing your arm on the way past you, giving it a squeeze before moving on to the next runner to be labeled.

"What the fuck was that?" Tucker says behind you, looking off into the direction that Maddox was, sticking his hands up in the air to mimic the trainer off in the distance. He growls at you playfully, rolling his eyes. "Do I even want to know how this happened?" He chuckles dryly, looking over to you.

"No, you don't." You say, running a hand through your hair, sweat pressing along the back of your head but your heart racing in your chest makes you think this is more due to Maddox and his superiority over you and less of the run you just finished. "You wouldn't believe me if I tried." You groan, tossing your face into your hands and taking in a sharp breath.

"Okay, try me." Tucker plainly says, crossing his arms. He gives a disapproving look, waiting for you to come up with something.

"Alright, fine. Listen, I couldn't sleep last night before we went out for breakfast after you called when your plane landed. Our Facetime with your parents about the training psyched me out. So I went out, I just wanted to catch some air. I ended up at some bar on fifth street and he was there. We talked, we hung out, and it was weird. He's so much warmer than I expected from someone who was going to be my fucking instructor for the most important part of my career to date." You shrug, defeated with the situation, and you hear Tucker trying to hold together a snort next to you, clearly enjoying this more than you are.

"It's worse if it was good, you know." He raises an eyebrow to you and you shove him further from you. "When you won't be able to deny him, always watching you sweat, waiting for a mistake." He whispers in your ear, trailing off with a laugh.

"Shut up, I don't need your bullshit right now, T." You scoff, wiping sweat from your brow as you take another drink of the water you've been assaulting in your fist the majority of the conversation. "This can't be happening, not to me."

"Oh but it is, my friend." Tucker kicks at the dirt on the ground around you as you glare against the sun in your face as more clouds move before the storm hits.

"I'll be back." You grumble, taking off before he can say anything else.

You make your way to the first building you come up on and swiftly navigate halls as you search for a bathroom, your stomach churning. Jumping up stairs two at a time, you make your way to the top and take a hard left, coming chest first into someone else. An arm straightens out in front of you, blocking you from moving as you back up a couple inches to look up.

"Maddox." You breathe out, watching him steady you against the wall. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." You stutter, clearing your throat as he gives you a once over.

"I'm not sorry. You're sorry?" He says critically, glancing down the hall in search of occupants. You shake your head, biting down against your lip as you feel him staring at you.

"No, I'm not. I'm not sorry." You breathe him in, longing to be back in bed with him, wrapped up together. Before he was your boss. His familiarity safe, but somehow something else lingered there too, a little bit of fear, you think. Maybe something about ruining the only job you've ever been interested in because of some new guy. Just some guy. Not, the guy. The one that you met without knowing your lines would cross in more than one way, that you felt something for immediately and now you're stuck trying to figure out how to piece this part of your life together. Yeah, no. Definitely not that guy.

He must feel something you feel and he pulls you aside into an office that he quickly locks behind the both of you, leaning against a large mahogany desk, scattered with ordered piles of paper, photos, and various other objects. "Hey." He leans into you, running a hand against your sweat soaked chest. "You okay?" He says, his lips pressing gently against yours as he comes back ever so slightly to watch you, his eyes gentle. The same warmth you saw when you first met.

"I don't want to get reprimanded, I can't lose this." You say, searching his eyes for something, for anything. He smiles, kissing you softly against the neck, humming. He breathes in, tracing the side of your jaw with his tongue.

"I promise, I won't let that happen. I can't lose you." He pleads with you, his facial features softening. "You're so special, Fletcher. That's why you're here, you know it." He says, kissing against your neck and you finally relax, turning to face him as he backs you up to the wall. You kiss him back, his hands searching all of your body as he explores every inch of you that he can take in.

He catches you off guard, and swiftly pins you against the wall, his leg between yours, putting you flush against the paint you breathe in, a gasp escaping your throat. "Welcome to training, Agent." He grabs your wrist in his hands, laughing against the back of your neck as he gives you one last kiss before heading out the door of his office, leaving you dizzy and out of breath. You straighten your shirt and walk down the hall opposite of where Maddox was headed.

You finally hunt down the door to your dorm again and find a napping Tucker. You quietly shut the door behind you and grab your things to shower. Your body loses it's tenseness the longer you stand under the hot water, your mind replays images of Maddox and you try to shake the thoughts off like the shampoo going down the drain.

The next morning, the sun is safely tucked away behind layers of storms that are passing by, but thankfully it's a classroom day anyway. You spend a great deal of hours looking at different types of evidence photos and crime scene investigation reports. One of the students breaks down as she recalls the murder of her brother thirteen years ago that stemmed her want to join something that could make her feel like she was working for her brothers voice. The group finds comfort in one another as they all give themselves way for a briefing with their friend. The class is something exceptional, that offers a perspective you didn't really think of until now. After a lunch worth skipping, you make your way out under the storm to the range, to begin some firearm training. More than half of the class has yet to have to fire or learn how to properly handle a gun. Though a short period, what feels like an eternity passes, and everyone is hitting right on target as you begin your initial training out here. It feels undeniably great.

Part 2 - Stay

The next few weeks go by undeniably slow, and training hasn't given anyone a break. You can feel yourself, as the others, getting worn out and tense, a leery aggravation atop everyone. They say this period of training is where each person is put to the test, and to themselves. It's a common breaking point where naturally those who aren't able to rise against it will give up, a threshold. You keep telling yourself that it's another hurdle that you just have to make it past, but you can't entirely shake away the shitty attitude that you have. You sit in the diner, dumping a mountain full of sugar into your coffee before dragging yourself to look out at the window. It's rainy, again, but it's the first break anyone has gotten since training started forty-two days ago. Two full days off without having to report, and you intend to use every second of it to catch up on your sleep. Your head rests gently against the table as you close your eyes and smell the cinnamon around you as fresh rolls are made, it's enough to lull you to sleep. The fraction of movement from air hitting your face is enough to bring you to open your eyes and find someone bending down to sit in the booth seat across from you. Your hand nearly hovers over your gun, something that has become natural.

"You look like you could use a good rest." Maddox says softly, taking a drink from his styrofoam to go cup and pulling out his phone to glance at the time before putting it back into his suit pocket. "My place is only an hour from the base, of course, you may recall that." He says, matter of fact. giving you a playful smirk. Your hand relaxes at your side.

"I recall, yeah." You groggily say, peeling your face from the table to take a long drink of your coffee. "You have the sleep number." You scoff, listening to his humble laughter in the background. It's hard to focus your eyes, you feel yourself becoming more tired than you've remembered being in quite some time.

"Come on, you were made for this." Maddox says to you, leaving a 10$ on the table and standing up as he waits for you to do the same. You huff, slowly standing up from your chair and following him from the cafe door to his car. You're too tired to worry if anyone is watching, and doubt you can even cover for yourself with a good enough lie at this point, so you just give up and slink into the warmth of the seat, your eyes melting closed as the soft growl of the air comforts you to relax. You feel his hand slide over to your thigh as he begins to drive, and you gently grip yours on top of his, running your thumb in a circle against his skin.

"I've been looking at your testing numbers." He says, playing with the radio dial, looking for nothing in particular.

"Oh, yeah?" You question, letting out a breath, softly rubbing a hand against your eyes.

"Fletcher, they're high. Maybe you don't understand what I'm saying. Your potential is significant"

You scoff, laughing, but mostly out of how tired you are and how ridiculous this conversation seems. "Alright, Maddox." You grumble, dismissing him and pushing yourself farther down into the seat.

"This is serious, Fletcher. It could put you in real danger in your future, trust me." He says, his driving becoming more swift, faster. You note he seems irritated, but you stare off into the distance, your eyes closing for a second as you start to drift off.

"Whatever." Your effect is flat, glaring over across the seat towards him, who, any other time wouldn't be this aggravating to you. "I don't need any more trouble than I'm already in at this point. I'm not something special."

"Goddamnit Fletcher yes you are, and I'm trying to keep you safe." He says, his tone deepening, his glance towards you quick but searing.

The rest of the ride to his house is quiet. You remember how you felt when you were here that night after the bar. You try to think of anything that seemed out of the ordinary, to be able to place him working with you, but nothing stands out. Your head pounds without a break, and you feel a cold glass press firmly into your hand, the tips of his fingers warm, touching yours.

"Hear, let me take care of you." He releases the glass and you watch him with caution out of the corner of your eye as you down the water. Your mouth immediately feels dry as soon as the glass is empty and he laughs into your neck, taking a deep breath in before he swiftly comes back with the glass again, full of more ice cold water.

"Thank you." You breathe into the glass. He takes his suit jacket off and watches you as he comes in and out of the hall after putting it away. He sets a dish of cat food down on the floor and you hear the jingle of his kitten rounding the corner, meowing gently at him as she rubs against his leg. He runs a finger down her tiny head as she begins to eat her food.

"Come on." He says to you, strong, but not commanding. You limply stand up, taking his hand as he pulls you behind him, a familiar pathway. He pushes you down carefully against his bed, and you fall back into the comfort of the mountain of pillows and comforter. You feel him pull at your boots, taking care to remove each one, before pulling you up to him to discard your clothes. He pulls your chin up to look at him with a finger and he softly presses his lips to yours. He hums, and you can't help but assume he feels the same warmth that you do.

"Sleep, Fletcher." He whispers into your neck as he pulls his blankets to surround you. He lowers his dark black curtains, a fan whirling in the background, and gently closes the door as you feel your eyes close with a heaviness that leaves you more relaxed than you could have imagined.

____

"Get the fuck back down, Fletcher" He slams your face down onto the concrete. "No one told you to move, you little dirty bitch." Someone kicks you in the face, and then the stomach, but you don't cry out. You hold your breath and keep bracing the impacts that come your way. They grab your head by your hair and slam your face into the car door before they throw you into the trunk. When you're awake again you can barely move your body, and your head strings. You hear laughing in the background, and can taste dirt on your face, trying to lift yourself up from the hard, cold ground under you. Instead, you feel your shorts being ripped off of you and you will yourself not to let any noise leave your body as you stay as still as you can, your lip trembling. "I'll always find you." He chuckles, dark and low, making your stomach churn, he slams your face back harder into the ground and you cough, blood trailing down your face as you fight to move with any strength you have left. "You're not getting away that easy, sweetheart." He smashes your head down harder against the cold, smearing your face against the wet grass patches. You feel him hover over you, choking you harder and harder until you feel your eyes roll back, feeling thankful for a moment.

____

You cough, choking as you sit up, gasping and grabbing for anything around you. You feel something moving around you, and you feel strong hands grab around your wrists at the same time that a lamp clicks on next to the bed.

"Fletcher, I've got you, it's me. It's Maddox." He says, hushed in the dark of the room around you. You feel dizzy, and sweaty all at once, overwhelmed with nausea.

"Maddox." You sign out, grabbing onto his arm for comfort, reassurance.

"You're right here." He says, pushing a glass of water into your hand, holding it with you gently. "Here, some water." He mumbles out, pressing his lips against your sweaty neck. Your stomach lurches, you heave, and the glass of water slides out of your hand, smashing all against his floor. In the same motion, he quickly holds a small trash can under your face as you begin to vomit, sweat pouring down your face. He moves your hair plastered with sweat to your face and rubs the back of your neck the more you heave. Tears slowly escape the sides of your face, you look down and shards of glass are stuck in your legs, slowly bleeding down.

"I'm sorry." You softly cry out, wiping sweat that drips down into your eyes, burning. He sets the trash down, scooping you up against his side, swinging your legs atop of his thighs where he holds you as he gently begins to remove the pieces of glass, dropping them in the trash can.

"Please don't be sorry." He plants a warm, reassuring kiss against your forehead, and he begins to remove more shards of glass. "Just let me in, let me be here for you."

You shake your head, snorting at yourself for how childish and weak you must seem. You sign, looking back up to his eyes.

"I have night terrors, or whatever now. Last year, I was assaulted while I was still studying at university. Some guys jumped me by the school and took me out in the middle of nowhere. I never reported it, so they never found out who it was. He said he'd always find me, and I don't have any doubts against that." You say, clearing your throat, composing yourself again.

Maddox grabs your face in his hands, pulling you up against his own, your noses touching. You feel a warm tear run down your face, and he pulls back, watching you. "I will never let anything happen to you again." He wipes his finger against your face, and you realize the tears are his own, you've never had anyone care about you before in your life. "The scar, on your face?" He questions gently, running a hand against it. You nod to him, that's one of many scars that they left you with that night.

"Don't tell anyone about it, okay." You say, your eyes concentrating on the ground, the fear in your voice makes your voice crack, you breathe in, trying to steady yourself.

"I want you." You rub a finger against his lip, pulling it down between your grasp, realizing the feeling overwhelming you right now is something that you haven't felt before meeting him, and each time it rears up even more stronger than before. "Please, Fletcher." He moans, deepening the kiss.

You grab his face in yours, his eyes searching your own intently, sensing each other's desperation. You pull his shirt off over his head, tracing your hand down his muscles, feeling him squirm under your grasp. You bit against his lip, trailing bites from his neck down his stomach. He pulls open a drawer, hastily shoving a lube you remember too well into your hand, as you begin to apply ample amounts of pressure prepping him beneath you.

"God, yes." He hisses, his head leaning back against the bed, while you take in all of him in front of you. He groans as you slide into him, feeling his legs begin to shake under you, you kiss him along the neck and he breathes out against your skin, his hot air trailing against your neck as you wrap yourself up in him. "Fletcher." He pants as you even out speed, beginning to chase your own orgasm, feeling the full of his cock against your stomach each time your momentum soars. You feel him grab you, his fingers digging into your skin as he meets his own release, and your pace picks up, hardly able to contain yourself as he pants under you, regaining back control. You collapse onto him, sweaty, tired, and weak as your mind tries to register your happy feelings with your traumatic past. You lay there for a minute, then he pulls you up with him, careful of the glass around the bed, and brings you to the bathroom. He begins the shower, hot steam wrapping around you, the sounds of sirens in the distance from the window as the city sleeps.

"So domestic." You joke, leaning into him as the water reaches the right temperature. He pulls you into him, and you watch him watching you.

He smiles. "You could say that." He hums into your hair, pulling you closer to him. You're so caught up, you couldn't stop this relationship if you tried. You have fear for knowledge of others finding out, for losing this job that you've worked your whole life to get to, for rejection mostly. But a new fear consumes you as you realize someone you are falling for is in the same dangerous career that you are, and now you feel the fear rising in your throat, it chokes you. You wonder how far you would be willing to go to risk your life for Maddox, and you realize that you'd go a hell of a lot farther than you would for anyone ever.

"Stay with me, Fletcher." He says to you, pleading with his eyes. "Stay with me." He breathes into you.

Part 3 - Partner, Partners

"Best two days of my life. Hands down, all I did was sleep." Tucker stretches next to you as you both walk to the range. You shake your head, rolling your eyes.

"Is sleeping all that you think about?" You pose, more so as an accurate statement over a question with an option to answer.

"I mean, no. Well, yeah okay, pretty much. Sleep is important, or maybe I'm just really lazy." He bends down to retie his boot string after stepping on it and nearly tripping.

"Really lazy." You dryly chuckle. As you stand, watching Tucker take his time, someone rams an elbow into your back as they pass by, and you figure you probably know who it is without having to even look. Elliot Rugger. He's had some problem with you since you've arrived and you can't seem to get down to what you've actually done to him, aside from absolutely nothing.

"Better watch where you go, fairy." He laughs out, looking back behind his shoulder to watch your reaction as he continues to the range entrance.

"What was that?" You scoff, grabbing him by the shoulder as he starts his next step, being pulled back slightly by your force on him.

"Keep your hands off of me." He turns around fully, standing right against you. "As if a priss like you ever would. I knew you were a queer." He makes eye contact with you, sneering and you smirk. You grab him with fistfuls of his shirt pulling him closer to you. "I wouldn't fucking try me if I were in your position, Rugger. I wouldn't touch you if you were the last piece of shit on the planet." You mumble up against his face, willing yourself with everything you have to keep your anger down. The second you let go of his shirt, he comes back around with a right hook to your face. You stumble back, reaching your hand up to touch your nose, busted and bleeding down your shirt.

"You, fucking..." You raise your voice, running at him with full force. You throw your shoulder into his chest and send the two of you going down a small hill near the range entrance. You end up on top of him, and straddle a leg on each side of his abdomen where you're sitting. Holding him down, you slam a fist down onto his face, before you reel your hand back to hit him again. A strong grip forces your hand to stop in its tracks.

"He's not worth it." You hear Tucker saying in your ear, trying to pry you back off of him. "Not worth your career, man. Let him go." He pulls you back as Elliot stumbles to come to a full stand, his face already swelling from your impact. Your breathing becomes more of a hyperventilation, your mind a blur. Your heart races as your memory tries to connect a situation of violence with an attack looming over you. Defense, you needed to defend yourself. You keep telling yourself, trying to regain what you've lost. To come back.

"I fucking knew it." Elliot laughs sadistically, wiping blood away from his lips and spitting on the ground at your boots. You look back to him, a fire in your eyes.

"You don't know shit about me." You lunge at him again, hitting him again and again as he tries to block your fists, someone pulls you back and up by the arms and you come face to face with...

"What in the hell is going on over here, Agents." Maddox grabs for Elliot's shirt sleeve and pulls him over to him after steadying you both on your feet.

"He attacked me." Rugger snarls towards you and Tucker, who quickly stands up to your defense but is interrupted by Maddox.

"More like provocation." Dox says sternly, but quietly to Elliot, raising his eyes to make contact, but not letting go of his grip on him. " Don't let me catch you again, you'll be out of here, and I don't think that's going to make your father very happy to hear from me." Elliot's demeanor completely changes, carefully watching him as he lets go of him, keeping an eye on him until he's inside of the range.

"Tucker, thank you. You can see yourself into the range." He nods to Tucker, who gives a small wave before starting on his way off. "And you, stay." He says to you, glancing at his watch.

"Yes sir, both of you say together." He leaves the two of you, and Maddox doesn't move from where he is until Tucker is at a faraway distance.

"You have a serious attitude problem." He says, matter of fact to you. "But I saw it in your eyes, too. The fear." He says, quieter. "Come with me, let me fix you."

You scoff, running your hand against your nose, trying to clean up some of the blood. "I don't need any help." You say, giving him a sideways look. "I can't be fixed."

"You see what I mean, why are you always trying to be so difficult." He calmly says, and starts to walk off back towards the buildings. He watches over his shoulder as he begins and you reluctantly follow him. "You have to stay level headed, people will always get under your skin if you let them. I know that this, of course, is something different." He treads lightly. "But nonetheless." Maddox trails off, holding the door open as you file in behind him. You slowly make your way back up to the office that you were once in with him, and he closes the door behind you, locking it. He opens cabinets, and withdrawals medical supplies. He runs saline over gauze.

"Sit." He orders, and motions down to a couch in his office. You sit, feeling more calm as Maddox sits next to you, your knees touching. He gently brings the damp gauze up to your nose and careful wipes and daps as he removes the blood. You stare at him, feeling airy under his touch, his hands sending electricity all over your body at the slightest touch.

"I need to talk to you, about...something." He trails off, almost looking like he's carrying around a bit of shame. You look up, his eyes meeting you and you feel a pull of connection, of warmth.

"What's going on?" You say, watching him calmly, his eyes having a mischievous glimmer to them.

He huffs out a slow sigh, then pulls away the gauze from your face and gives you a heartfelt look, but you can't help but also see the dread behind his look. "They're putting you on high profile crime cases. I told you some dangerous stuff could happen with your level of extensive knowledge and elusive ways. There's no telling what kind of stuff you'll be working on, it's an extremely high stress position that they offer. It doesn't happen often."

"What's the catch?" You say, crossing your arms in defense. But Maddox bends down to kneel in front of you and softly kisses your hands in his before standing up and walking over to put a book back on its place on the shelf.

"I don't want you out of my sight. The catch is, it's my team." He says, looking back to you, searching your face for some kind of registered emotion that he is desperate to see. A sly smile forms on your face, and you begin to laugh, out loud. Maddox looks away to the side, biting his lip.

"Wait, you're serious?" You say, the laugh echoes until it leaves the room, and he looks at you as to say if you're done, then he nods.

"You're my partner, technically." He says, his hand tracing against the line of your neck, lingering there for some time.

"I like the sound of that." You say, turning your face deeper into his hand as he holds you there. "But I can't help but feel that you somehow orchestrated this, for us to be together." You question him. He softly shakes his head, letting out a laugh that holds no true humor.

"No, I didn't do this to my advantage. I would never take advantage of you, or manipulate you in any manner. You have this offer based off of the type of agent that you are. I have had few relations in my life, due to the seriousness of my position. I would never purposely jeopardize my career, or yours. I know that this, us, sneaking around and stuff may not be for you, and I understand and respect that. You will still have a spot on my team, regardless of our relationship. Those decisions are completely up to you on your own." He says, very business professional. You can see the confusion spread across his face, and somewhere behind it you can see a softness.

"I want you. I want you more than this." You motion around the room with your hand. "I want you all of the time, not just here and there, for fun. I trust you." You say, swallowing hard, trying to clear your throat from the tightness you feel under his scrutiny. "I can't think of anything else aside from you when you're around, I crave you, Dox." You stand, putting your mouth gently against his, your tongue running over his teeth. You grip his wrists, allowing yourself to completely let go and relax finally. You feel a weight of a thousand pounds lift off of you, your secret out in the air for him, your feelings and your commitment. He laughs hastily into your mouth, running his hand against your back as he pulls you closer to him, you kiss his neck and hear him gasp.

"Dox? I like that." He questions his new given nickname, smiling back at you. As hard as you've tried to keep yourself from falling into this mess, you can't help it. Your connectivity intensifies each time the two of you are together and you can't deny it anymore.

"Now, let's get out to that range. Show me what you've got, partner." He whispers to you, biting gently at your lip before pulling back with a dark laugh.

Part 4 - Out

You look across the range, your boots softly crunching into the dirt below you. Tucker briefly looks up from loading his gun again, offering you a half smile and a shrug at your current condition. You sigh, shrugging back, and load your own ammo as you aim for the target in front of you while the range masters walk behind the class, giving pointers as they watch. You unload your clip, hitting the target each time seconds after the first, and load in another clip as you begin the next round.

"Excellent shots, Fletcher." One of the commanders says as she passes you, looking on to your target. "Everyone, weapons on hold." She yells, looking around as the class puts their guns down and disarms them. "We're going to do something a little different today, but a good effort on your warm ups." She continues, and the group circles around one another. You can see Elliot across the circle from you, glaring intently as you await instructions. His stare doesn't break from you, but you disregard him, shifting your weight from one foot to the next as you receive instructions.

"Everyone will grab a set of gear, you'll have ten minutes to get it on and get back to field 84. Once here, everyone will be given ammunition and weapons, but this time, we're going to paintball." Maddox says, looking down a clipboard as he goes over instructions and marks down his pages simultaneously. "This exercise is to provide team work for those you are working with, as well as to secure your skill sets, and learn how to evade dangerous situations where you will have to work together to avoid being hit, where marks can be taken against your team. There are a number of problematic complications that can quickly arise in this exercise, so be sure to discuss with your team tactics and preparation as you begin, and remain in close contact as you advance. The ideal learning experience is going to show you that with pain, injury, and many stimulations happening at once, that you have to remain vigilant and unwilling to compromise on your skills and understanding as you continue to solve problems. To the left, you'll see the gear laid out, grab your things and be back to field 84 in the ten allotted minutes." Tucker meets you halfway as you begin to grab your things, and smacks a hand against your shoulder, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry about that dickhead." He says, grabbing his own stuff. "I wanted you to beat the shit out of him, but I also want to see you succeed. Fucking prick." He says, looking behind him in the direction of which Elliot is.

"I get it, I need to have better control anyway." You say, walking off towards the direction of the dorms. "He isn't worth it." You grumble, glaring against the sun in your face as small drops of rain begin while clouds crowd overhead, trying to make yourself believe your own words.

"The least he could do is decide to fucking drop out." Tucker says, throwing water on his face as you suit up, feeling the ache finally hit your face from earlier. You touch your hand gently to your nose and feel the warmth followed by the sting as you withdraw your hand.

Once entering field 84, you feel the dread sink in as you look around at the vast space, covered with many obstacles and areas that are around you. Teams are in groups of six, and as you get closer to the board, you see your name in the same group of six. The same group of six with none other than Elliot Rugger. Your stomach drops, as you try and prepare yourself for professionalism.

"Can you believe these assholes are giving us the weekend off?" Tucker whispers to you, looking over the board to find his own name. "Shit..." He trails off, running his hand down to find yours, right above Elliot. You let out a soft huff, but find the rest of your group as the instructors begin going over the rules, determined to not let this interfere with your training.

"This isn't over." A voice trails behind you, but you ignore it, loading your gun, and moving off into another direction as the round starts.

____

By the sixth round, only a handful of people are left from your class. The rest of them line the wall, covered in paint splashes that will later envelope them in large bruises, but all taking away valuable learning skills from the exercise. Beads of sweat run down your face under your coverings, and it stings your nose. Heavily breathing, you keep rounding corners, looking for other players while remaining on high alert. You can only vaguely hear boots gently hitting the ground and your own breathing as you carefully calculate your steps. You are deep into the field when you catch an eerie feeling, stopping short where you are standing, feeling the rain dropping down around you.

"Fletcher." A voice booms from behind you, something hits you in the back and you sharply pull in a breath, your side stinging. You turn around, facing Elliot, who challengingly stands a short distance from you. His gun is pointing directly towards you, and for a minute you're thankful it's only paintball.

"What now?" You scoff, lowering your weapon to your side, looking at him as the rain begins to dance harder around you, turning the dirt under your boots into streams of mud. Thunder rumbles in the distance, the sun becoming blocked by ripples of dark clouds.

"You took my position, I should have been given the top clearance job, and instead I got a Washington job, because everyone thinks you're so damn special. You don't have what it takes like I do." He becomes louder, his voice taking a sharper tone of aggression. But under that, you sense fear. A laugh escapes your lips, your eyes tighten into a thin line.

You hesitate, unsure of what to do next, and realize your mistake almost immediately. Giving him an opening. "What are you talking about?" You question, becoming more assertive. "You didn't get a top clearance job because your'e a fucking mistake." You say, and as the words leave your mouth multiple rounds are fired one after another, so quickly you can't make a move worth taking to get out of his line of continuous fire. Every part of your body is on fire, as you try to determine how to best flee the area, but the hits continue to come from what feels like every direction you turn towards. The shots cloud your mind, and in seconds he crosses his position and stops the rounds, bringing the butt of the gun to your face, slamming it hard into the side of your face, knocking you to the ground. Disoriented, you struggle to catch your breath, unable to stand and coordinate, you try to crawl to put space between you. The ringing in your ears becomes louder, booming so heavily that everything else begins to lose focus as another hit to the same area sears pain into you that you can't fathom you have felt before.

"Drop the weapon, Rugger!" You hear one of your instructors yell, her voice faint against the ringing enveloping you. You groan, putting the effort that you have into army-crawling in the mud away from the attack. "Drop the fucking weapon, agent!"

"Who's the mistake now?" Elliot laughs into your back, pressing your face into the mud with forceful hands. There is a quiet moment where everything suddenly stops, only the rain splashing down onto you as you try to lift your head from the caked mess of blood pooling with the mud, your eyes heavy. The end of his gun rams down hard into the back of your head, dropping it to the ground again, and you lay there quietly unable to move as your eyes gently close.

____

"No, no, no, no. Shit." You hear Tucker stammering, you feel a breath catch in your throat as your face coverings are removed.

Sirens softly blare in the distance, your eyes peel open slowly. You start to feel hands all over you, and you realize that your head is in a lap, Tucker's lap, who is looking down at you, rain dripping from his head onto your face.

"Goddamnit." You hear Maddox sharply exhale in the same moment your eyes track to meet his own, looming over you as his hands quickly move around you. He tears open packages with his teeth, and you feel warm pressure against your head and you arch away from it, still dazed. "Fletcher, don't move." He gently puts a hand against your shoulder, relaxing your body back towards the ground and you focus on your breathing as you start to feel pain covering you, wrapping around you like a blanket. Classmates have circled you like a protective ring, and you realize the hands that you are feeling are all over, working to put more pressure on areas of your face and head. You relax into the pain, determined not to fight it, and taste blood -- coughing as it runs from the corner of your mouth. The sirens are becoming louder, deafening almost.

"I'm fine." You mumble, choking back on the blood that pools into your mouth.

"What's he saying?" Someone frantically puts gauze up to your mouth and you spit against it, trying to clear your mouth.

"Out! Get him out of my program, out of my sight, out of my fucking training zone now!" You can hear Maddox in the background yelling commands, who shoves Elliot up against a wall where other instructors are coming around to spread between meeting with him and with you and your classmates gathered around you. Maddox firmly holds Elliot up against the wall, struggling to keep himself composed, his nostrils flaring as he glares into him watching intently. "Take him up to the main offices, Saloman, Banner, you watch him until I'm back. Get his parents here, too. Emergency meeting, and make sure all of his shit is packed before they get here." He shoves Elliot towards the other instructors, and meets the crew coming out of the ambulance as Elliot is taken off the training field.

____

Your eyes open to a faint beeping, and to dim lights against the ceiling. You groan as you try to lift your head, but compromise to just being able to look slightly to the left where someone is sitting in the chair, intently watching you on the edge of the seat.

"Dox." You huff, relieved. A small smile cracks against the dry edges of your lips, but the smile doesn't get returned from Maddox. His chair scrapes against the floor as he reaches over and puts his hands on top of yours, which were instinctively reaching out for him. You feel vulnerable, but don't try to stop it.

"I'm so sorry I let this happen to you." His voice cracks, he looks away from you for a moment. "That I wasn't there when you needed me." He shakes his head, lacking composure.

"But you are here." You whisper to him, your head pounding, you close your eyes and reach a hand up to touch your throbbing jaw. His warm hand meets yours before you're able to make contact and he strongly holds it as he lowers it back down to the bed.

"Don't." He dryly says, swallowing hard. "Trust me." He grimaces as he softly rubs his hand over your leg resting under the blankets.

"Please, let me see." Your voice doesn't sound like your own as he stares at you for a long moment before he brings a small mirror over. He hesitates as you take it in your hands, holding it up to examine your face. Your entire face is swollen, bloody and bruised. Along your jawline runs a heavy line of stitches holding your skin together. The side of your head shaved as another line of stitches is carefully crafted along the side of your head towards the back of your skull and you can vaguely remember the force that was applied to you before the pain lulled you to sleep. "What happened?" It is your own voice this time that cracks, as a tear escapes and rolls down your cheek as you look back at the monstrous site before you that was once familiar. You grit your teeth together to control the flow of tears that seems determined to escape from your heavy eyes.

"Elliot, I should have known to be watching him closer, this is my fault. He hit you so many times with the paintball gun before Banner was able to get in view of what was going on, I can't even count how many times he was able to make contact. Then, he used the barrel of the gun to make an impact with your face, Banner said you were trying to crawl away..." His voice catches, he clears his throat, adjusting in the chair. "She wasn't able to get to you before he slammed the butt of the gun into the back of your head when you initially finally lost consciousness. I can't fathom what this was like for you, and I'm...I'm so sorry after everything we already talked about that I could let this happen." He stops, standing up and walking over to the window where the sun is starting to peek out from the clouds. His hand is in his pocket, the other bracing himself against the wall. You don't fully take him in until he turns back around and with your memory a little less clouded, looking him over with all of the blood that he's covered in, your blood. "I already, professionally, explained our relationship. Normally, it might seem a little out there for something like this to be so lightly accepted, but I have a strong pull in my professional life, and my teams as well as those above me know that I would not do anything that would willingly put my career at a cross with my personal life. Please know that this changes nothing, but I want others to be aware that I am taking an extended leave with you while you recover, and I hope you stand by my decision. This will not change your position in the academy, along with your position on my team at the end of the academy." He says, matter of fact.

You break into a smile so big your face aches, but you can't help yourself. "You mean, so like, we're actually finally...together together?" You softly question, watching him come back to his chair, nodding with his own cracked smile as he takes a drink of his coffee.

"Together, together." He says, searching your face with his eyes as he gently brings your hand to his face and plants a light kiss on each knuckle. "No hiding, just us." He hums, holding his lips to your last finger for a moment longer than the rest. "They want you to stay at least tonight, to ensure your pain is under control and that no surprises arise in your current state, before willing to discharge you. I know, it's not the sleep number, but to do what is best for you." He says, staying put next to you as a nurse comes in to adjust your medication doses and alleviate some of the tremendous pain that you are in. You finally feel yourself relax as the medications begin to work and a tenseness that you had been holding onto lessens.

"I want to leave now." You say, your voice becoming groggy as your eyelids warmingly close while you battle to keep them open to watch Maddox -- who softly chuckles into your hand that he still had a hold of.

"Is that so?" He hums softly, leaning against the bed. "I think you might want to reconsider, but don't worry, that sleep number will be there when you wake up. Get some rest." He whispers to you, his low, sweet voice lulling you to sleep.

#wattpad #fiction #writing #gayass #lgbtq #ramblings #writers on tumblr #writeblr #excerpt from a story i'll never write #writeblogging #bat writes

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

Text

(CLANDESTINE CHAPTER TWO)

ᗩᑭᑭOIᑎTᗰᗴᑎT, ᖇᗴᗪ ᐯᗴᒪᐯᗴT ᗩᑎᗪ ᗰᑌᖴᖴIᑎՏ

𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚

Rhythmically mellifluous waves of notes echoes after bouncing back from anile theatre's walls, the trill getting softer the more I firmly place my chin over the tail piece.

Eye lids slip shutting at the flurries of heart chasing the last cadences, pinky shivering as the middle and ring finger pushes the string down while the bow touches through the strings simultaneously producing the last chords.

Feels like a voyage over a baby leaf that's leading me through a pallid wind.

My chest heaving vigorously and lifting my jaw from the violin my head snapped in the direction of loud claps flowing. After a hectic performance the seats went empty and instead of going backstage I tried to play a melody for myself.

I was so lost finding my way through strings that didn't even noticed when Azi came. He's the owner of this old hideously beautiful theatre, his love for arts has this place still running without compliance knowing else it would have left baren just like the other popular theatres they shut years ago.

"Well done Harry, people seemed to love your performance last night and today." A smile quenching from my inners causing the bottom lip to tuck in between my teeth.

A feeling like no other spiralling around my ribcages, this's all I ever wanted.

"They were properly soused into your magic and we know what that means, shit loads of money." I remained quite putting my violin and bow aside while he spoke with a tobacco cigar rolled in between his lips.

I never wanted to play for money but nor do I've problem if we're getting it because half of the people in theater needs it. They deserve it.

It's not their fault they've to die in return of loving the devotedness that's gifted naturally.

Their talent and adroitness is the only thing keeping them in this world even though they've to remain veiled from the ordinary people.

Azi drags the stash of money on the table in my direction causing me to shake my head in refusal, "you know that I don't need this money. Save it for the renovation of theatre before we all get buried deep under it." He laughs lungs rumbling from his old age.

For God's sake the ceilings are about to cripple and chandelier might bonk my head one day.

"Or' maybe double pay our ballerina she was prepossesing last night." The twitch of his wrinkles at the corners of eyes smoothed down sadly and he sighed loudly piercing a hole in my stomach.

Anticipation wrapped around my head shoving me into the sea of worry where I'm finding it difficult to process, "what happened-" my words choking in my windpipes when he cuts me off revealing the horror information.

"She was abducted last night, her body was found shot near the suburb of where she lives." Everything's feeling claustrophobic around me and I keep on gawking him in astonished dread.

She was one hell of the great dancers, the only ballerina of our theatre. She didn't not deserved this; fuck it nobody does. I refuse to believe.

Fuck this government. Fuck this stupid world.

Gripping my hair from roots I looked him straight in the eyes, "Tell me if her family needs any help." Then the realization dawned upon me like a heavy dust she never had a family. This theatre, her skills were her only family.

"Harry my boy listen I know you'll take it as a hard toll but believe me we can't do anything for what has happened, go home have a rest you've a performance in the coming month." I was taken aback when he hugged me assuring me like a father would do, not utterly sure how to respond to interactions like these I raised my hands several times only to let them fall back.

Memories of her on tips dancing beautifully on the stage displaying infront of me as I stored my violin into case putting it aside.

We weren't close. But the few times we had exchange of words in the middle of lunch breaks and her full concentration on my foolish jokes was worth than any friendships I ever had; which I unfortunately never had.

Without even noticing the whispers let out of my chest, "I'll miss ya." Never thought you could yearn to have a single glimpse of people last time even though they were barely in your life.

I didn't changed into comfortable clothes letting the flashy suit stick to my skin, so the weigh of it will keep on making me realize that the world has no place for us.

A sacrifice for living praise.

The alley outside's pitch dark with the sun roguishly trying to dawn from the horizon.

Azi Theatre's situated at the most lifeless spot in the city possible, you've to walk through several hidden allies to reach there.

While, walking past the streets and avoiding to ruin my trousers by splashing my boots into puddle my brain havoced with unnecessary thoughts.

Thousand of faces with erastz beauty passing in mili seconds on these vast fulgurant billboards their mocks appearing like arrows to my already wounded guts; though it's all in my head it's still crawling under my skin.

A peek of cognisance from the day she made me ate her red velvet muffins dizzied around in my mind painting sorrow over me.

Even though I protested with my nonsical excuses she won ending up handing me one of her perfectly shaped muffin on my palm with a huge grin.

Just like that alot of people's smiles in my life petered out in the lost pocket of my mind.

In the littlest remembrance of her I made route to the small bakery situated two blocks away from the building I live in. The city's sleeping the only thing's shop's boards blinking and hazy bakeries showing through the thick fog.

It's open twenty four hours seven. The sky tweeked with ribbons of brume and the digital clock showed 5:00 sharp in the early dawn the large glass windows fogy from weather. The counter lady's wrapped into a comfy blanket trying not to fall asleep.

The bell chimed startling the cute old lady when I stepped inside passing by the wooden counter, "uhh..hi sorry to disturb. I'll look in myself." She nodded slumping back into her seat soon about to knock off.

Strolling in between the squeezy aisles my eyes roamed over empty refrigerators ceasing to the one at the far corner.

There in the transparent domed box are four cherry-red muffins attracting every dull view of bakery towards themselves. They're perfectly shaped and snow-flaked into red coconut shudders but failed to water my mouth.

I've no appetite to eat them. Her's used to be baked into undescribeable funny shapes but atleast I had a company while chomping them in one bite.

A reel of same memory binging and before it could permanently imprint in my brain I cleared my throat raising my pointy finger as a habit, "I'll have these!"

We said in a unison. Hold on. We? Am I that exhausted that I've started to hallucinate.

My head snapshoting towards the person from whom the feminine voice billowed in the dense warm air.

Resplendent. Florid and kaleidoscopic were the first words that striked my confused mind when my vision raked from the faux suede ankle boots richer in pigment than the red velvet muffins resting inside the refrigerator; then straight towards to meet their eyes.

Her gaze projecting warmth in this wimtertide and out of curiosity I met her eyes to recognize their colour.

Golden syrup. They're like the glassed honey pool that has squeezed the bee in the syrup lake as if it's greed for honey became it's trap, hazel speckles caged inside the rim of irises flickering with her slightest of eye movement.

We both keeps on looking at eachother the morning peace surrounding us too unsure how to break the spell.

She's wearing a cerise peach long trench wool coat a sweet rose enamel pin attached to where her heart is. Her nose and ears pink from the cold outside, but her lips plump from under the translucent violaceous bubble gum coloured gloss.

Burnette tresses of hair loose till her covered shoulders, the peach tealed beanie intact on her head.

The women standing infront of me is in abstract contrast to the pastels of the bakery and the luster of gray buildings out of these bakery walls.

The pastelish hues still prominent in her and crimson peaked up my neck at the fact that she caught me intriguing her by my peer.

Boldly her eyes remained fixated at my suit that's very exotic for strolling into a bakery. She might think so I'm a bellend idiot.

The cashier lady came to us yawning placing her hands on her hips done with two strangers just looking at eachother but she doesn't know that both of them are inquisitive of what the other is wearing this early where anybody's barely awake.

"We've the only box, decide it quick kiddos that who'll get it." The lady yawned for fiftieth time taking the box of muffins out of refrigerator.

"I came here first and I was the first one to ask." I frowned for an obvious reason and the lady was about to give me the box when a honeyed voice again melted in my ears.

Now I really wanna hear her talk for a long time, "but I pointed at it first!" She whines softly jutting her lower lip.

"But vocalisation matters the most." I quipped arching my brow at her and she glared me but her beatific personality radiating naturally from her is breaking the bitter demeanour she's trying to pull towards me.

"Kay. We can leave it upto the rock, paper and siscorss." She smirks mishveously raising her brows several times in a challenge.

Her tongue poking out from her glossy lips with her one leg straight and other bended perpendicular she placed her on foot over another balancing with only one leg like a flamingo.

The cute small lady groaned, "are you really gonna do this?" Our eyes widening and chuckles spiraling when we once again we said 'yep.' In unison.

She was ready to launch her hand in a paper and mine was stone so I quickly interrupted looking down at her legs, "why are you standin' like a swan?" Her eyes slitting into a squint and lips shrinking into a pout.

Tilting her chin towards me and standing in the same position as before just the difference now's that her hands are on her hips to convey the offend.

She ruched her lower lip inside her mouth to stop from giving a smile, so she's a buoyant person...

"Because maybe I am?" And she doesn't have simple answers to straight questions. Our fists still raised into air and the cashier lady hissed this time ready to throw hands.

"You kids are worse than my grandchildren!" She gasped comically at the words of short lady.

"That's very mean of you..." I'm clearly surprised that she isn't one bit influenced by lady's sharpness instead she's further engaging in a conversation that will result in the loss of time for all of us. "...and your daughter wouldn't be very happy to know."

"Kay. Back to where we left." She quickly turned her head towards me her complete concentration struck over me making my stomach go fluttery and funny.

"Uhm..yes- rock, paper, siscorss!" I never thought I'd play a game with some stranger who's looking so cozy and comfy in the early dew, for some muffins in the middle of empty bakery when I scarcely interact with people.

"Yes! I won." I punched the air when my siscorss cut her paper and her jaw went slack for a moment.

What the fuck you're doing Styles!?

Out of shyness and awkwardness I abruptly combed back my curls rubbing my hand down the nape of my neck not meeting her eyes.

The lady handed me the box with a boring expression while Hers stayed ticked to it, "anyway I don't even like red-velvet muffins." Yeah. Grapes are sour when fox can't get it.

She was about to walk away near to step out of shop. I want to call her but don't know her name; so out of sheer rampage I blurted out the only word that the department of my brain could manage at the time.

"Swan!" She halted in her tracks torso turning and with her chin atop of her shoulder she looked back at me smiling coyly.

"Yes. Sparkly?" She's probably calling me that because of my glittery black suit and I'm sure my ribcages did something at the name. Getting made fun of doesn't sound very good; but it is at the time.

Today's an odd day.

"Um..we can share if you want to?" Her grin etching to the corner of her lips and she jumped excitedly clasping her hands together,"Really!?"

A timid smile crawling over my features watching her get delighted at the littlest of fact. "Yes. There are two pair of muffins we both can have one pair if you like to?" I told her and she bobs her head while going towards the cash counter, patting the counter with a huge grin indicating me to put the box down.

"Your total's $8.25." We both payed half of the total price and I shoved my hands into my trouser's pockets scrutinizing my surrounding while the annoyed cashier lady packed two muffins separately for one of us.

And she rummaged through her wallet which has alot of ebullient key-chains hanging from it, who's this girl?

Why I've never seen her here before? and I've never seen a person this cheerful in the crowd of prosaic people of city.

The lady handed us our respective delights with a roll of eyes and I was the first one to take mine and quickly sprinted out of there, because I didn't know what else to do.

A whiff of pungent vanilla, mulberry pomegranate sprouting with cocoa made it's way in my nostrils when I passed beside her. Her fragrance's divergent.

You know a scent that addictively clouds your senses but it's so rare you never get to smell it again; but if out of nowhere you get to it brings back nostalgia for no reason, she smelled like that.

When I glanced back the two women were still watching my weirdness in amusement through the glass windows of bakery.

It appeared like her rose enamel pin winked at me from far.

Mick was tangled up into cassette tapes when I stepped inside my flat, the tiny bugger he is jumped atop me straddling me to the floor.

"You're lookin' like a disco ball. No need to be so proud." Instead he gave a long slicky lick to my cheek woofing at me.

He's being too cheeky but it wouldn't last long when I'll take him for a checkup. He fucking envy his doc. I'm already sensing sympathy seeking whining from him, happens every year.

Shaking my head I grunted skiding from underneath him but he's fast and climbed up in my lap while I struggled to open the box.

The minute red hilly muffins were infront of me it reminded me of honey the ooze of golden, treacle eyes. Her eyes.

Shit. It's getting hard to get rid of her delicate image that's playing like an aesthetic reel in the back of my mind.

I was jerked into reality when Mick lurched greedily eating the delcious muffin from my hand in one bite, leaving his slickness at the tip of my fingers. Before he could attack my muffin too I quickly grabbed it.

"Mick you wouldn't believe what happened today!?" I spoke in an animated voice scratching his sweet spot under his ear my mouth full of red coconut and he looked up at me with his sick puppy eyes.

"We wouldn't have been able to eat these if I wouldn't have won from...." I stuttered pondering over the fact that the nameless peachy coat girl's too stubborn and wouldn't leave my fuzzy thoughts alone, "...from swan."

Mick just barked at me going to his sleeping pillow and I practically rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms to bring myself to some consciousness from that bloody bakery fantasy.

When the proper morning hit I made myself breakfast and the longer I stared it the more it impeded my appetite.

With one hand offering Mick treats to deceive him into the idea that I'll take him to the park for a walk which instead will end up in a clinic's room and other hand diligent in searching word puzzles over the newspaper my jaw worked to chew the sandwich.

Throwing a sweater over my head and slipping into white washed jeans quickly I got ready to take Mick with me.

I had to scoop Mick up in my arms when he sprawled onto footpath of veterinary clinic the second he realized what was about to happen.

The kid leaning against the wall giggled loudly watching me practically drag my dog across the floor because he's too socially akward, fucking wow.

The waiting area's already full of pupils alongside their pets, someone stood up from the last bench and taking the advantage of opportunity I strided towards it sitting at it's edge.

Fifteen minutes passed since I've been caressing and comforting my scared bud, tucking his crown under my chin to make him at rest.

There's loud raucous noise when the elevator doors to the floor we're at opened wide gaining everyone's attention and when the person in tizzy strided inside the corridor I had to look at her twice.

What the fuck she's doing here? She never owned a pet and the one for whom she'll get this worried about.

Lyida's exactly same, her eyes bright as always and she has become more striking from when she was with me.

But she's not mine now, she never was.

She lurched over the receptionist with the box in her hand and distress of having to meet her eyes creeped inside me. The girl beside me threw daggers at me when I stood up hastily causing the whole bench to shake. I apologised for the disturbance.

My hands fumbled with the knob of nearest door right beside me and I had to shush Mick sternly when he kept on whining.

Heavy puff of breaths escaping my lungs when I stumbled inside some empty doctor's room shutting the door behind me, back meeting against the wooden plank of door, cold sweat breaking under the nape of my neck and I blinked several times taking in my surrounding.

I'm a weak son of a bitch.

It's fuckin' gruelling to be in her presence. It's hellish to meet her sympathetic gaze for me and I'm a bastard who's pathetic as hell.

I have to be away, I've to go right now. Trotting towards the large window panes I uncliped them stepping outside the shared balcony of room.

There's a drain pipe so I can climb it down to the ground and get the hell away from here.

Maybe, Mick was right it was a bad day and idea to come here.

Adjusting Mick inside my armpit I threw my one leg over the rail and then the second, my breath wavering as I gripped the rail tighter taking baby steps towards the plastic pipe.

The smack of air stinging my eyes while the cars are being parked infront of me at the parking lot.

A delucet voice clamoured from inside startling me to death and Mick barked lowly in reaction, "Whoops! Sorry to interrupt your suicidal mission." I turned my head steadily to see who's it even though I can comprehend the sherbet similarity.

Her voice has melted like a hot maroon stamp into my ears since the dawn hour and with the corner of my eyes I watched her leaning against the stretcher.

"But let me tell you Sparkly this height would cause you nothing but two broken ribs, one fractured thigh and you might loose your brain memory. No more than that." I gawked her appalled while she remained peacific arms folded infront of her chest, into different cardinal clothes now.

Again a replete splitness to what every other person's wearing outside.

Even though my intentions are nothing like that but saying this to someone who's about to take their life doesn't seem very pleasing.

I was about to speak something into my defence that she misinterpreted things but she cut me off popping her chewing gum and capturing the ropes of sticked bubble around her lips with her teeth.

Fuck.

A/n; Please lovies. Reblog it and gimme feedback alot of kisses!

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boyfriend-vernon · 5 years ago

Text

s t u d y b u d d i e s

g e n r e - s m u t

w a r n i n g s - h i g h s c h o o l a u, v i r g i n r e a d e r, u n p r o t e c t e d s e x, e x p l i c i t l a n g u a g e

o r i g i n a l c o n t e n t - i did write this and the original that can be found on wattpad at the user ong_seunguwu

o r i g i n a l i d o l - k w o n j i y o n g

a u t h o r n o t e - i do not condone underaged or unprotected sex. by writing that they are seniors in highschool i am implying that they are 18 years of age. the reader is on the pill (mentioned briefly at the end). please do not engage in unprotected sex unless you are in a long term relationship with a trustworthy partner. that being said please enjoy sex as much as you want with the use of aforementioned protection!

A paper ball hits you in the side of the cheek and you roll your eyes. Seriously? We are fucking seniors for crying out loud. You pick it up off of the desk with a sigh. As your economics teacher drones on and on about monopolies and societal revenue, you quickly and stealthily open up the wadded piece of paper.

"Pssssst Y/N,

I need your help studying! I know the test is tomorrow and I can't fail it! PLEASE!

-Call Me Mr Fuckin' G.O.D."

You roll your eyes, not at the request, but at how he signed the letter. You smooth out the paper and grab your pencil.

"Vernon,

Of course, I'll help you study, but you'll owe me! And if I call you anything it'll be dipshit...

-You're Saviour."

You gently fold up the paper into a neat little square and hand it to your neighbour.

"Pass it to Vernon." You mouth at them. They nod and pass the message until Vernon is the one holding the note in his hands.

He opens the letter with little to no discretion, causing you to fight the urge to facepalm. He smiles happily to himself and rolls his eyes before grabbing his pencil to reply. A few minutes later the once again balled up piece of paper is laying on your desk again.

"Y/N calling someone older than you dipshit is disrespectful... Maybe you'll tutor me in the ways of economics and I'll tutor you in the ways of mannerisms. I'll walk home with you mkay?

xx- Vernon"

You bite back a light grin and when the teacher isn't looking, turn around and flip him off. He glares at you and you stifle a giggle.

Later that afternoon as the bell rings for the last time, signalling the end of the day, you walk through the crowded halls quickly. You finally make it to your locker. Unlocking it you shove the textbooks you don't need inside with a sigh. Shutting it allows you to finally see the goody boy leaning against the locker beside your own.

"Hey there pumpkin." He says cheekily.

You roll your eyes and turn towards the exit. You begin walking, with your backpack over your shoulders and Vernon beside you. Once outside of the large high school he links his hand with yours.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You ask him incredulously, a dark blush flowing over your cheeks.

"Shut up loser. I'm only holding your hand. You won't die." he replies slightly annoyed.

"It's just weird! Since when do we hold hands?" You question.

"Hush, I just wanted to hold your hand, but if you're gonna whine about it then never mind." He says sounding embarrassed.

"N-no... It's fine. I was just surprised is all." Your blush grows darker.

By the time that the two of you reach your home, he is swinging your hands back and forth cutely and your chattering is nonstop. Once inside you both kick off your shoes and drop your bags by the door.

"Snack first?" You ask, making your way towards the kitchen. You two had been friends since you could barely walk and so this obviously wasn't his first time in your home. Before you could make it more than a few steps away he grabs your wrist and pulls you back. You yelp as you stumble back towards him. He chuckles and pins you up against the door.

"Is everything okay down there Y/N?" A masculine voice calls out from upstairs, making both you and Vernon freeze.

"Sorry Mr. Y/L/N! I accidentally bumped into her and scared her!" he calls out.

"Hansol is that you? It's been a while!" The voice calls out again.

"Yes sir it has been a very long time," he begins shooting you a look that gave you chills, "Y/N invited me over to study for our big economics test tomorrow!"

"Oh that was a great idea on your part honey!" your father calls out to you this time.

"Yes sir, he is pretty good at the subject and I figured it would be v-very b-beneficial to m-me." You stutter out as Vernon licks up the side of your neck before beginning to suck on it.

"Well, I'll leave you two be! I have a big presentation tomorrow so I'll be up here in my office working on that! Knock if you need me!"

"Will do sir!." Vernon responds all the while looking at you with a smirk. You both here the door to your father's office close and you look at him incredulously.

"What are you doing?" You whisper sternly.

"You asked if I wanted a snack." He replies with a shrug looking you up and down hungrily, "I figured I'd help myself to what your parents made."

"Not only was that extremely cringe, it also isn’t on the fucking menu."

"When you tell me to stop I will, but for now..." He trails off as his mouth returns to your neck.

"Verns, s-seriously. My d-dad is l-literally right up the stairs." You say biting back moans.

"But your daddy is right here," he replies with a cocky smirk, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around him.

You protest in harsh whispers as he walks you to the kitchen and sits you down on the table.

"Oh hush Y/N.," he says darkly, spreading your legs.

You push down the hem of your skirt to cover your crotch. He chuckles before grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling it back. It hurts a little, but it turns you on more. His hot breath fans over your ear.

"Y/N I'm going to count to three. You better have your skirt lifted up and your hands above your head by the time I'm finished counting. If you don't this will be a lot harder for you."

He lets go of your hair and squats down until he is eye level with your crotch. All the while counting slowly to three. His voice has never seemed so sexy to you. You proceed to lift your skirt and raise your hands obediently. He smirks up at you as he hooks his fingers into either side of your panties and gently moves them down your thighs, then down your calves, and onto the floor. You are looking down at him nervously, as he pulls your hips to the edge of the table, his mouth centimetres from your heat. He gently kisses your clit and you shudder. He smiles and proceeds to lick it. You gasp loudly and he looks up at you.

"Your father is upstairs." he reminds you before licking your clit once more.

You bite your bottom lip and drop your hands to his hair. After assaulting your clit numerous times he surprises you by dipping his tongue into your dripping hole. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out, just a face expressing extremely pleasure.

"You're so tight Y/N and this is just my tongue. I can only imagine what you'd feel like around my fingers... Or better yet my cock."

"I-I wouldn't mind finding out..."

He sticks his tongue back inside of you and hums lightly before pulling it out again to look up at you.

"You're still a virgin aren't you Y/N?"

You look away embarrassed by the obvious fact. He chuckles, "Let's change that."

You look at him wide-eyed as he stands up and unzips his pants quickly. You try to look everywhere but at his obvious erection.

"You're so wet I should be able to just slide in. I'll be gentle with you Y/N, don't worry." He looks at you, but this time you see a lot of love in his dark eyes, not cockiness.

You nod lightly, a dark blush painting your cheeks. He pulls down his boxers and you finally give up on trying not to look at his erection.

"My eyes are up here ya know?" He questions jokingly, cupping your chin in his hand and lifting your head. He stares deep into your eyes before kissing you lightly. You are the one who deepens the kiss, with a cross between passion and aggression. He raises his eyebrow in a shocked but doesn't protest. As your kiss continues to heat up, you feel his tip brush against your core and you moan into his mouth. He slowly pushes his tip into, while lifting you lightly off the table. He slowly pushes his entire length into you and you tear up. You bite his lip harshly. He groans both at the bite and how tight you are around him.

"F-fuck Y/N." he groans out quietly.

"P-please move Vernon," you mumble.

He nods, pulling out and pushing back in. With just the first thrust you are already weak. He is surprisingly vocal; whispering out profanity and a slur of compliments to you. Eventually, his thrusts get faster and his grip on your hips gets tighter. You begin to meet his upward thrusts with downward grinds and when he hits your spot you connect your lips with his harshly. This quieted your moans significantly.

"Vernon, I th-think I'm g-gonna... Ahh." you moan out and he smirks thrusting harder and faster.

"Do it baby girl. Cum around my dick." he groans into your ear.

Right after he says these words you do and he groans. He tries to hold his orgasm in, to let you ride out your high, but he can't hold it for long and cums. Some inside of you and some on your stomach. You are both panting and sweating. He chuckles and so do you.

"I never thought you'd be my first," you say in between heavy breaths.

He smiles widely, "Can I be your last too? And every time in between?"

"Are you asking me out you asshole?"

"Is that a yes loser?"

"Well, no shit! And you’re so lucky I’m on the pill," you say as he sets you back down on the table and he nods knowingly.

As you try to stand up, you stumble forward and he catches you.

"So, what you're saying is I have to carry your fat ass?"

"Shut the fuck up! You didn't have a problem holding me up just a few seconds ago!"

He laughs as he pulls his pants and underwear back up. He rolls his eyes and picks up your underwear from the floor and then you. He lugs you over his shoulder and you yelp.

"TO THE BATHROOM WE GO!" he calls out loudly.

"Did you kids say something?" Your father calls out from up the stairs.

You tense up and Vernon answers, "Sorry I yelled in victory. I won our little economics game review!"

"Oh okay! Well, congratulations!" your father calls out once more and then the door is heard closing once more.

"Nice save douche-bag."

"Don't make me drop your ass." he replies.

You both laugh as he carries you to the bathroom and helps you clean up.

#vernon #Seventeen #seventeen kpop #hansol vernon chwe #vernon smut #seventeen vernon #chwe vernon #hansol #highschool! vernon #chwe hansol #hansol chwe #seventeen smut #hansol smut

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hannie-dul-set · 5 years ago

Text

(thirteen times) i love you— 05

— wherein y/n (a hopeless romantic) seems to fall in love with nearly ever guy she meets. so, she writes letters for them to compensate. these letters weren't meant for them to read, but what happens when they all end up receiving them?

05 // you put flowers to shame

word count: 1.9k

a/n: hnnn yn is dumb and a mood

next part will be on July 23rd, 8:00PM EST!

<<prev | next>>

masterlist

The walk towards the garden went at an agonizingly slow pace. You were supposed to meet Joshua there according to Seungcheol (whom arranged the meeting without your consent— the male is gonna receive a beating from you later, for sure). To say you were ready to face Joshua would be a gigantic lie, but you can't back out now.

"I swear to god, the next time I see Seungcheol's face— he's gonna fucking get it." You continually muttered, passing through the hallways filled with numerous students. You could see a few weird looks thrown at your direction, causing your mood to sink down even further. Try being in my place for a day, will you?

A faint buzzing interrupts your incessant curses. Pulling out your phone, you let out a groan.

[seungcheol: psst hey hey

seungcheol: joshua's already there hehehe]

[you: 🖕]

A myriad of green foliage and blossoming flowers came into view. You pause for a while, letting out a long sigh. Alright, Y/N, you can do this. Joshua is literally one of the nicest people you've ever met. If anything wrong happens— there's a well nearby. After mustering up the slightest amount of courage you could manage to conjour, you made your way to the garden's entrance.

The smell of fresh flowers drown your senses. A few feet away, you could see Joshua sitting on one of the benches, arms crossed and eyes closed. He blends perfectly with the greenery; as if he belonged in the center of a painting scenery. The air around him is nothing but serenity— your previous foul mood dissolving into thin air upon seeing the sight.

You shake your head, snapping you out of your trance. Focus, Y/N. You're here to retrieve your letter, not to gawk at this devastatingly pretty boy without his consent no matter how tempting it could be— there's always a time for that. Focus.

Repeating the mantra in your head, you inched towards the resting male, careful to not disturb him on your way (the rocks on the ground made it quite a difficult task). Once you've reached him, you weren't sure what to do next. You pondered whether or not to say something to wake him up. A few seconds of silence pass until you finally decided to say something, but a low groan stopped you from doing so.

"Oh, Y/N. You're here."

Well shit. Goodbye, focus.

"Um, y-yeah. Have you been waiting long?" You stammered. Dear god, why did he have to say your name with that damned morning voice— it isn't even morning for fuck's sake. Your mental scolding continued until the male managed to stifle out a response in his half-asleep state.

"Mm, not too long," Joshua placed his palm over his mouth, letting out a yawn. "C'mon. Take a seat," he scooted over to give you room to sit on the bench. Slowly, you sat beside him. Despite being seated next to the male, you refused to look at him; your focus was entirely on the purple patch of forget-me-nots in front of you. You placed your hand on your chest in the hopes of calming down your erratic heartbeat. Y/N, you dumb bitch. The letter— you're here to bring back the letter, not to bring back your buried feelings for the damned male. Absolutely not, you reminded yourself once more.

Neither of the both of you say a thing. The once peaceful air was replaced with an uncomfortable touch of awkwardness. You decided to spare a quick glance at the male. But upon turning your head towards him, you were met by a pair of eyes as well. A flush of pink covers your cheeks at the sudden eye-contact and you instantly turned away. You could hear a slient cough coming from beside you and the sound of him shuffling in his seat.

Y/N, go say something, for god's sake.

You bit your bottom lip, thinking of the proper words to say to break the chilling silence.

"So, about the letter—"

"About the letter you sent—"

You slap your hand over your mouth, preventing you from saying anything any further. You cheeks began to flare a bright red even more. A small smile forms on Joshua's face as he lets out a gentle laugh from the exchange. "You go first."

Holy shit—. You mentally smacked yourself. Keep it together, Y/N.

"Um well," you bit the inside of your mouth, raising your head to look at the male (which was a really bad idea). He stared down at you, the corners of his mouth slightly lifted upwards and his eyes filled with nothing but a soft glint of attentiveness. In short, he almost murdered you with that stare.

You stifled out a cough, trying to get yourself back on track. "Actually, Joshua. That letter was written like, four years ago."

"I had a feeling it wasn't recent," Joshua smiled, his attention turning towards a nearby rose bush. "Your way of words in the letter seemed different from how you currently write."

"How—how would you know?" you gaped, eyes widening from the males remark. Joshua lets out a chuckle, still not facing you.

"Well, you are in the school paper. I read your works, sometimes," he hummed. He gives you a side glance, mouth still in the form a sweet, gentle smile. "It's hard not to, you know."

This guy is really out to kill me.

You wanted to punch yourself, but you couldn't do that without looking like some sort of weirdo in front of the male. Lightly slapping yourself in the face (without Joshua seeing, of course), you made yourself recall what you came here for.

"A-anyways. If you don't mind, Joshua, I'd like to have to letter back," you sputtered out. "Everything written there is all in the past so you don't have to worry about anything— I, uh, I don't like you anymore. At least not it that way."

Joshua remains silent for a while, pressing his lips together tightly. His expression is unreadable and you started to grow anxious by each passing second, staring at the male with an evident nervous look in your gaze. Did I say something wrong?

"Ah, is that so?" he spoke out and you nodded in response. Joshua hummed and reached for his pocket, pulling out the familiar yellow envelope. "Here," he handed it over to you, a slight smile plastered on his face, causing one to bloom on yours as well. You slowly took the item from his hand and held it tightly, giving him a grateful look.

"Thank you so much, Joshua."

"It's not a problem."

The male gave you a close-eyed grin, sending a surge of warmth all throughout your body. Time to yeet out of here, Y/N. Dont give into the devil's tempation.

You readied yourself to stand up and to take your leave, but a sudden but firm grip on your wrist prevented you from doing so.

"Y/N—," a flustered look shrouds Joshua's face and he immediately lets go of you. "Sorry, my bad," he scratches the crook of his neck and bashfully looks away from your direction.

"It's fine, Josh. Is there something on your mind?" you inquired, raising your brow at the male. He hesitantly opens his mouth but closes it once again. Your mouth forms into a slight frown. You don't know what was going inside the male's head, but as far as you've known him, he's always hesitated in doing things for his own self-satisfaction— he's always done what the people want, even at his own expense.

"Joshua," the male snaps out of his trance upon hearing the sound of your voice. "You don't have to be afraid to tell me anything— whatever it is, I'll listen."

Surprised at your sentiment, Joshua's eyes widen. He then trails his attention to the ground, taking in a long and deep breath. Slowly, he pulls his head up, eyes taking you in entirely.

"Y/N, if you don't mind," he pauses for a while, one of his hands playing with his sleeve. "I hope this won't be the last time that we talk to each other— of course, unless if you don't want to."

Joshua's eyes scan your face for any sign of discomfort and seems to relax just the slightest bit when he sees none. You weren't gonna lie— you nearly passed out because holy shit is he asking to my friend that's so adorable fuck. You breathed deeply, trying to calm your racing heart (courtesy of Mr. Hong Jisoo) and Joshua patiently waited for your response, anxiousness evident in his features.

"I'd like that, Josh," you tell the male, eyes gleaming and mouth smiling. Clearly, Joshua didn't expext that to be your answer. He was taken aback at first, but that changed almost immediately. Eyes formed into small crescents and the corners of his lips turned upwards, Joshua's blooming expression nearly puts the dozens of flowers in the garden to shame.

The sun was starting to set, giving everything a beautiful, orange warmth— and making Joshua look even more breath taking than before (in your defense, you could still admire people without harboring feelings for them, duh).

"It's getting late, isn't it?" Joshua mused, eliciting a soft hum from you in response. "Shall we get going?"

You gave him a quick nod and started to head over to the garden's exit with the male trailing behind you. You took your time taking each step, admiring the numerous blooms that are present in every corner (and maybe because you wanted to stay with the male a little longer, but you'd never admit that). Distracted by the gigantic patch of sunflowers on your left, you didn't notice a rather big rock right in front of you.

In short— you tripped.

You let out a high-pitched yelp, closing your eyes and waiting for the painful impact to come— but it didn't. Rather than being pulled straight into the bumpy ground, you were somehow pulled away from it, and with a faint thud, your head landed on a smooth and hard chest.

"Y/N are— are you alright?" Joshua questions, worry evident in his tone. You opened your eyes, raising your head to see the male who was only inches away. His hands landed on your shoulders, gripping you with a firm yet gentle hold. A light flush of pink spreads on your face and you scrambled away from the male.

"I—I'm fine, Josh, thank you" you coughed out.

"Are you sure?" he asks once more, brows furrowing with concern. "Do you want to go the infirmary?"

Infirmary? You nearly choked. Memories of last times mishaps surfaced inside your mind. The nurse pretty much hates you now, and going in with the same fucking guy you were literally hiding from would end up being absolutely awkward to the point that you could literally drown yourself in the awkwardness— that's not something you'd like to experience (you've had enough, thank you very much).

"No!" you exclaimed, surprising the male a little bit so you immediately toned yourself down. "I—I mean— it's not like I'm hurt or anything and it's all thanks to you, Josh. You were there to catch me on time so I didn't end up slamming into the ground or anything."

Joshua remains silent for a while, his eyes focused on you. You could feel your blush resurfacing and you averted your eyes from the male. He let out a sigh and spoke, ruffling your hair in the process.

"If you say so."

112 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

How Far I'll Go - Chapter 1 (Nina West/Monet X Change) - Meggie, Mia Ugly

A/N: Nina West gets the redemptive musical love story he deserves.

Chapter 1 - chase anything that glitters

The finale is over, and Nina West is drinking alone.

Well not - alone alone. Clearly. He’s in a bar that’s packed to standing room only with queens from all the seasons, as well as the World of Wonder and VH1 employees that managed to get tickets. The after-party and the after-after-party have been going strong for hours, and Nina has been bubbly and humble and as charming as he possibly can be after spending this long in a corset. (He has a bit of a meltdown when he meets Latrice but that was a long time coming. Like ten literal years in the making.)

But eventually the day catches up with him, and the constant smile starts to crack like a windshield, and Nina finds himself sitting at the bar alone. Which is okay. He’s exhausted, and the arches of his feet ache, and if he has to answer one more question about Branjie he might clench his teeth so hard he cracks a molar.

So he may not be alone alone, but he’s alone in a way he can feel (in his hands, his ribs, his heart).

Even then, he’s not alone for long.

“Hey there, Miss Congeniality.” Monet X Change slides up to him at the bar, looking like he was dipped in honey. “Werk. Congratulations girl.”

“Thank you.” Nina would ordinarily be beyond intimidated to meet the latest AllStars winner, a dream of his ever since Monet was crowned. But tonight, after the finale and the hours of making small-talk, Nina’s feeling so much that there’s no room beneath his skin for anything else. His whole body is vibrating. “You look fantastic.”

“You too. Giving me paper doll realness, honey. And I am living for this colour.” Monet’s smile is a bit soft around the edges, and there’s a glass of champagne in his hand. He sings a line from that Janelle Monae song Nina loves: “Pink like the holes in your heart… So how you feeling?”

“Good,” Nina says, even though that word does not come close to the truth of it. “Great. It’s been such an honour -”

“Listen to you, all congenial. Miss me with those sound-bites, girl. How you really feeling?”

“Nina - we’re taking off,” A’Keria interrupts before Nina can answer, hand resting gently on Nina’s shoulder. Slightly behind him stands Vanjie, arms crossed protectively around himself. He’s smiling at Nina, but it doesn’t quite match his eyes.

“Gotta get my beauty sleep,” Vanjie mutters. “Plus I ain’t see no trade in here - present company excepted, course.”

He comes forward to kiss Nina on both cheeks. “Tell your girl not to go home with no serial killers.”

Vanjie nods toward the far corner of of the crowded bar, and he and A’Keria walk off to where Silky is waiting for them by the doors. When Nina follows the direction of Vanjie’s nod, he sees Brooke with a cocktail in his hand, close-talking with a lumberjack-looking hipster that Nina doesn’t recognize.

Shit. Poor Vanjie.

It’s one thing to be cool with each other, to be friends. It’s another thing entirely to watch Brooke move on.

Nina winces out a smile. His heart aches for Vanessa. His heart aches for absolutely no other reason.

When Nina turns back to Monet, the other queen is watching him closely, eyebrow raised.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“What? Oh! Them? Yeah, too bad it didn’t work out. They were basically adorable and the fans -”

“Nah, nah, not that.” Monet finishes his champagne. “What’s your deal with, uh - tall, blonde and emotionally constipated over there? You and Brooke weren’t ever -”

“God, no. No. Not like - that.” People that look like me don’t end up with people that look like him, he hears a voice in the back of his mind whisper. He hates that voice, paper soft and sinister. He’s heard it before, thought he’d kicked it to the curb and left it behind after his college days, but it followed along in his shadow. (Sometimes Nina feels like no matter how far he’s come, there are stories that travel with him.) “We like - once.”

“Once? Once what? I fucking knew it by the way.”

“Just kissed. Messed around. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Monet snags two new glasses of champagne from a passing server. He puts one down in front of Nina, and drains half of the other in one swallow. “I see you, girl. You might be pretty in pink but those shoulders don’t lie. All slumped over.”

Deny, deny, deny. That was Nina’s first rule. The whole Brooke thing was years ago, anyway, and that particular wound has long scarred over. Maybe there was a moment on that first day of Drag Race where Nina thought that this was some sort of sign (he does that sometimes, forgets that this is real life and not a romantic comedy or Disney film) but - it’s in the past.

“We’re friends,” Nina says simply.

“Great,” Monet says in a tone that clearly states he doesn’t believe a word Nina is saying. “Well then. Tequila?”

They end up shutting down the bar. That’s not something Nina does often - or, like, ever. When he’s at the club he is at work, he is fundraising, or shaking hands and making connections, or getting petitions signed, forcing all the trendy apolitical gays to give a damn about something.

He is not sitting with queens in sunshine-yellow dresses, ignoring the rest of the world while getting slowly wasted on tequila and laughing so hard his makeup runs.

Monet is fucking funny. Nina knew he was funny, loved him on both seasons, but it’s different up close. When Monet starts reading the queens in the room Maya Angelou-style, Nina almost falls off his stool.

At some point Brooke and whoever he’s going home with come to say goodbye (Brooke wraps his arms around Nina, says “I love you, love you, love you,” three times against his jaw). Nina can smell the cigarette smoke on his breath, the whisky on his mouth.

“Love you too,” Nina says, only a little bit worried.

As Brooke drags his skinny lumberjack away, Nina hears him slur something that sounds like “gotta find Vanjie before we leave.” That’s going to be a long and fruitless search, but Nina leaves him to it. He watches the pair go (pretends that he isn’t).

It may be an old scar, but old scars still ache from time to time. This one does. Smarts. Worms its way into Nina’s heart like tendrils, squeezes tight, compresses. He knows it’s platonic love he and Brooke share, but there was a time, before Vanjie but during Drag Race when maybe for a minute he thought— Stop.

If Vanessa Vanjie Matteo wasn’t good enough for Brooke, then the rest of the world hasn’t got a hope in hell.

“What are you doing after this, Nina West?”

All thoughts of Brooke aside (still rolling just under the surface), Nina likes the way Monet says his first and last name together. He likes that kitty-cat wig with the finger waves that Monet is wearing, looking like Clara Bow in some black and white film. He likes a lot of things right now, but unlike Brooke, Nina is drunk.

“What am I doing? Back to Columbus for a bit. Hosting a finale party and then… and then. Then the tour! Yes, that.”

“Did you just forget about your own tour?” Monet laughs, low and delighted. “Girl, you’re in trouble.”

“So much trouble,” Nina confides, reaching out to put a hand on Monet’s arm. “Just - scads of it.”

“‘Scads?’” Monet laughs again, “You age one-hundred years every time you drink?”

“Every time!”

Monet shakes his head, rolling his eyes a bit (but not in a mean way. In kind of a charming way. Nina likes a lot of things right now.)

“I didn’t mean after the show is over. I meant - like tonight. What are you doing after this?”

“Oh.” Nina blinks. This can’t be - “Oh.”

“You want to get out of here?” Monet is watching him with dark-lidded eyes, no laughter on his face any more. His lips part, and Nina stares at his purple lipstick and thinks yes and then a beat later please. Because he is a gentleman.

“I’m drunk,” Nina says in the spirit of full disclosure.

“You think I’ve got some miracle liver? Me too. I’m fine with it if you are.”

“Okay.” If they’re both drunk it’s fine. As long as they - talk about it first. It’s fine. “Um. Okay.” Nina realizes he hasn’t moved his hand off of Monet’s arm. Now that he notices, it’s all he can think about.

How does someone do this? Should they leave at the same time? Separate times? The lights in the bar are coming on, and the last few stragglers are starting to go. Most of the girls from Season 11 have already left, God knows how long ago. Nina didn’t even notice.

“I’m in room 1518,” Monet thankfully interrupts Nina’s panic. “You should come by.” He moves his arm out from underneath Nina’s fingertips, and Nina instantly misses the warmth of his skin. Monet grabs his clutch, weaves out of the bar without a backwards glance, and Nina takes a few moments to jump headfirst back into that panic spiral.

He hasn’t done something like this in - a very long time. He isn’t really a casual sex kind of person. He won’t say no to it, obviously, but - it’s been awhile.

He’s been busy.

Come on, girl, he tells himself, just act like people proposition you in bars everyday. Just act like this is a totally normal thing that you do, because you are a normal person.

Nina waits and panics for another ten minutes, before he gets up from his stool like a normal person would. He casually, elegantly (not at all unsteady on his heels) leaves the bar. Normally. He takes the elevator alone, in silence, to the fifteenth floor.

His knock on room 1518 is so hesitant that it’s basically inaudible. No one hears it and he’s forced to knock again. He waits in the brightly lit hallway, feeling like a football player in pink, until the door opens.

Monet’s holding a makeup wipe, and his face is shining, paint off. He’s changed out of his dress, taken off his padding. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Nina immediately feels like an idiot.

“Oh,” Monet says, “You’re still in - all that.”

Shit. Fuck. “I - yes. Sorry. I should have -”

“No, I -” Monet takes a step closer. “Told you I was living for that colour.”

Then he puts his hands on either side of Nina’s face and kisses him.

It’s a good kiss. Warm and tasting a bit like mint (Monet must have brushed his teeth). Monet’s lips are soft and gentle, grasping Nina’s own as if he doesn’t mind the taste of tequila and anxiety. He doesn’t make any attempt to deepen things - keeps the kiss sweet, keeps his hands on Nina’s face. His hands are warm too.

“You wanna come in?” Monet asks when he pulls back, and Nina has forgotten how to make words happen. So he just nods. Lets Monet pull him forward gently, close the door behind him.

They start kissing again right away, just standing there in the middle of the room. Nina loses himself a bit in it, closes his eyes and lets the tequila do the thinking for him. He sucks Monet’s tongue into his mouth and Monet lets out a soft gasp that - yeah, that’ll work. Now that tongues are involved, the kissing gets harder, nothing tentative about it. Teeth pull on Nina’s lower lip, the edge of his jaw, tease their way down his neck. It’s good. It feels good, and he has to bite his mouth shut to stop himself from saying as much out loud.

Monet pulls away suddenly, and Nina just stares at him. He wobbles slightly, and steps out of his heels before he falls down.

“You’re probably still all - strapped in, hey?” Monet’s eyes are a bit unfocused, moving over Nina’s face. “Do you want to change? Take your paint off? I should have asked.”

Nina feels like an idiot again. Why the hell didn’t he go to his room first?

“Thanks. I’ll just -” He gestures to the bathroom, and Monet gives him a look.

“I’ve seen it all, girl. Let me get your zipper for you.”

Nina’s lips sting and his heart is racing. Getting out of drag in front of someone kind of kills the mystery. Not that Nina feels his body is any great piece of artwork to be slowly revealed but it’s not really a sexy process. Maybe it’s different when you look like Aquaria or Yvie or something but - Nina’s album is called “Drag is Magic” for a reason.

Despite all of this (blame the tequila just - always, for everything) he turns around.

Moves his wig to the side so that Monet can slide the zipper of his dress down his spine. It makes goosebumps break out all over Nina’s arms, and the dress falls to the floor. When Nina turns back around to pick it up, Monet is still standing there, a bit closer than before. They look at each other. Monet reaches forward to take off each of Nina’s massive crystal earrings, putting them carefully on the nightstand.

Nina just - stands there. Stands there as Monet unhooks his cincher, rolls his hip-pads down his legs, takes his tights along with them. Stands there as Monet drops to his knees in front of Nina, gently pulling down his underwear.

The dress was loose enough the Nina didn’t need to tape anything or do much of a tuck, and he’s fucking grateful for that. Still, as he glances down at himself, he sees a body covered with angry red lines, places where shapewear dug into his skin, all the illusion of his silhouette stripped away.

“You’re so hot,” Monet murmurs and Nina cannot hear that sort of thing right now, is totally not ready for it.

“Thanks?” he says and Monet breathes a laugh against his thigh before dragging his tongue across Nina’s hip.

“This okay?”

Nina nods, can’t speak. He’s harder than he thought he could be after the amount he had to drink, and Monet’s hands (tracing up his thighs, moving between his legs) are so warm, and strong, and soft. When Monet bends forward and sucks him into his mouth, Nina gasps, back arching as he tries not to come immediately. Everything is impossibly tight and wet, and he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to remain upright. He puts an unsteady hand on Monet’s shoulder, and Monet reaches up, moves Nina’s hand to the back of his head. There’s stubble under Nina’s fingertips, and the soft sounds of Monet swallowing around him fill the room (along with Nina’s own frantic breathing).

“You taste fucking amazing,” Monet murmurs, dragging his tongue up the length of him and moaning. “Christ, I - bed, the bed, please -”

Nina stumbles backwards, falling onto the scratchy hotel comforter in a graceless sprawl. Monet is pulling off his shirt one-handed and then quickly climbing on top of him. His hand is on Nina’s cock and he’s grinding his hips into Nina’s thigh, and he’s kissing him again, hard and deep, like he’s starving. Nina can’t remember being with anyone who wanted to kiss him this much. It’s intoxicating, makes him feel something - he can’t put a label to it but it takes up too much room inside his chest.

“Can you just -” Monet bites out against Nina’s lips, and Nina pushes his hand past the waistband of Monet’s sweats, finds his cock hard and wet against his palm. Monet makes such a delicious noise at the first stroke of Nina’s hand that Nina can’t be blamed for the sounds he makes in response.

It goes like this for awhile, the two of them fucking each other’s fists and breathing into each other’s mouths. It’s quiet in the room except for cut-off moans and huffs of breath, and Nina lets his body take the lead in this, lets himself move and feel without thinking about it (tequila is a godsend).

When Monet comes it is nearly silent, just a stutter in his breath and a few sharp jerks of his hips and Nina’s hand is suddenly wet and trembling. It’s the hottest thing that’s happened to him in - in a long time - and he buries his face in Monet’s neck, goes somewhere else for an orgasm (“okay - okay - Oh fuck -”) that lasts longer than he expects it to, almost on the edge of too much.

Breathe.

In. Out.

“Fuck me up, Nina West,” Monet says against his neck, with a low gorgeous sigh. Nina lies back against the pillows, and realizes that Monet’s mouth is smeared with pink lipstick. It makes him huff out a tipsy laugh, which makes Monet smile with his eyes closed.

“Did you know you’re still in your wig?”

Oh my fucking God.

Nina is - still IN HIS WIG. His fucking bubblegum pink wig. He doesn’t know how to react to this knowledge, so he makes a mortifying sound that might be a laugh and might be a cough and might be someone choking.

It’s okay (he thinks) because Monet laughs too, covering his face with his hands, hiding that gorgeous smile. When Monet’s recovered himself, he leans over and starts to take the pins out of Nina’s hair, and Nina blushes for God knows what reason. As the wig slides off his head, Monet kisses him right above the pulse point in his jaw.

Things get foggy after that. The room is spinning slightly, and Nina isn’t sure whether that’s exhaustion or alcohol or the absolutely boneless and beautiful feeling that follows excellent sex. He thinks he hears fireworks going off outside, but when he cranes his head towards the window, expecting a shower of fiery glitter, the sky is dark.

Nina closes his eyes for a moment, thirty seconds tops. When he opens them again the sky has gone from black to misty blue, and Monet’s mouth is between his legs.

“Oh my God, you’re -”

Nina stays awake just long enough to come down Monet’s throat and then suck the taste off Monet’s tongue as they make out messily afterwards. At some point Monet loses the rest of his clothing, and the silk of his skin against Nina’s is utterly unfair - how could anyone possibly live through this? How do people ever get out of bed if Monet is in bed with them? The pressure of Monet’s mouth is something criminal; Nina feels like he could kiss him for hours. Maybe he already has been; time is all messed up in this hotel room, unravelled like bad knitting (just ask Nina’s gran, she’ll tell you about it).

He falls back asleep with Monet’s face pressed against his collarbone, murmuring nonsense to his skin. Nina tells himself in five minutes he’ll get up, gather his clothing, and go. It’s not dawn yet, five minutes won’t hurt.

“Yousmellnice.” Monet’s words are slurred together and soft, mouth damp on Nina’s skin, and Nina only closes his eyes for five minutes.

He wakes with a pounding headache and a sense of regret that he’s pretty sure is caused by more than just the copious amounts of tequila he drank last night. And this bed… Is not his own, he’s pretty sure, at least not the hotel bed he’s been in for the last two nights while they got ready for the finale and the reunion and-

Oh.

An arm wraps around his waist, tightens around his midsection, pulls him close. Beside him, Monet sighs.

Monet.

Shit. Fuck. Jesus. God.

The night returns to him in flashes: Monet’s hands soft on his stomach, back, and thighs; Monet’s lips ghosting over his own, teeth against his lip and hip and-

Nina squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up in his own bed, in his own room, even back in Columbus surrounded by dogs and not a man would be preferable at this exact moment because this cannot have happened.

Casual sex with random trade in bars is okay. It’s - different - like he said before, and it’s been awhile. But he feels things too deeply, gets too attached - for it to be the norm. One kiss and he’s ready to tattoo their names on his goddamn wrist. (Hyperbolically speaking. Mostly. Except for that one time. But it was college and he was much younger, and thank God it had just been Sharpie.)

But this is… This is less than good. Monet is a Ru girl. A winner. A fellow Miss Congeniality, and one of Nina’s favorites and this… This is bad. (Potentially.) Probably. He’s almost sure. So he was feeling some kind of way about Brooke because of something that happened a gazillion years ago (and wasn’t going to turn into anything anyway, Nina, Jesus) and Monet had been there, golden yellow and luscious in those finger waves and that slit so high it should have been against the law, and he’d… Taken advantage of the situation. Too much tequila, not enough common sense. Isn’t that how every bad decision starts?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and expels it in a long, measured stream through his pursed lips because his heart is speeding up, and it won’t be long before he starts spiraling again.

And another. In. Out.

Another. In. Out.

“Hey.”

Nina’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of Monet’s voice and he coughs a little. Very cool. Very how you want your Drag Race-winning hook up to see you first thing in the morning. He prays he had the sense to take all his makeup off before… Whatever.

“Hello,” Nina says cautiously, like the situation isn’t real, ceases to exist if they just don’t acknowledge it. He grips the sheet tightly to his chest.

Monet chuckles, low and deep, sends rumbles through the mattress. Then he turns over and presses his glasses to his face, peering at the clock on the nightstand.

“Shit, girl,” he mutters, sliding the spectacles over his nose. “It’s noon. We already missed breakfast.”

Then Monet is out of bed, perfect ass on full display in front of Nina - and even bleary-eyed and hungover he can appreciate that - but he closes his eyes tightly. (He still sneaks two or five more peeks while Monet gets dressed, if he’s being honest.) It’s not going to happen again - can’t happen again - and he wants to remember it. Only so he can fully regret it later. He went to Catholic school after all. He’s very used to metaphorical self-flagellation. Yeah. It’s very that.

Monet steps into the bathroom, and Nina takes the opportunity to fully assess his clothing situation. He’d come in drag, which meant he has to leave in drag, which is not… Ideal. Because a hotel at noon on a Tuesday afternoon is going to be far more bustling than a hotel at five on a Tuesday morning, and he looks a lot different as Andrew in a dress than he does as Nina in full drag.

He drags a hand across his face and his palm comes away streaked with black. Fantastic. All this and he’d managed to sleep in his makeup.

So. He figures this is the bed he’s made and now he has to lie in it. If his room weren’t all the way down on the fifth floor, he’d just take the stairs. He’s far more likely to run into people on the elevator than on the stairs.

“You wanna grab lunch?” Monet asks him, toothbrush in hand, working back and forth across his impeccable teeth, white foam at the corner of his perfect mouth.

Everything about Monet is perfect. Which is half of why Nina can’t figure out (or believe) last night. It just doesn’t - work that way for him.

People like Monet (and Brooke, that nasty little voice in the back of his head reminds him) can have anyone they want. So why did Monet choose you, Nina West? Why Nina West? Fifth-runner up, pushing 40, pudgy, soft-spoken. He could have left with anyone last night and yet here you are. When does the other shoe drop?

“Look, I don’t know where you went just now,” Monet says after rinsing his mouth. “But no pressure. I just figure we both gotta eat and I know a place.” He shrugs.

If this had been - something other than what it had been - Nina would think this was a date. But it wasn’t. Because it was… Whatever it had been. He’s still not really sure of that. The tequila’s still making everything a little fuzzy. It’s not a date. Monet’s tone is too casual, too easy.

And people like him don’t date people like you.

“Um, sure,” he says before he can stop himself. Because he meant to say no. He was going to say no. Why didn’t he say no? Because he wanted to say yes, damn it. “But I should probably…” He gestures between the pile of pink on the floor and his face.

“Right!” Monet laughs, and Nina thinks he almost hears a hint of nerves in it. Like maybe this is awkward for him too. “Yeah, probably not the best idea to go out in day drag and last night’s makeup. Not the most comfortable…” Monet runs a hand over his bald head and sighs.

Oh, it’s awkward. Lovely. “Well.” Nina’s sitting up, still clutching the sheet to his chest, waiting, but for what he isn’t sure. It’s not like Monet hasn’t seen him intimately, so why is he acting like a fourteen-year-old undressing in gym class for the first time?

“I think I’m going to shower.” Monet points over his shoulder to the bathroom. “What room are you in? I’ll just come down and meet you.”

Nina nods, grateful. “Five-oh-nine.”

“Great.” Monet smiles and it looks genuine. The light reaches his eyes, his shoulders relax a little. “I’ll, um… Thirty minutes?”

“Sure.”

Then Monet waves a little and disappears into the bathroom, and Nina bolts out of bed and pulls on that damn pink dress faster than he thought possible. He grabs his wig in one hand and his heels in the other and takes off out the door. The whole thing probably takes less than a minute, and his dress isn’t zipped; but honestly he couldn’t care less. All he wants to do is get in the shower and scrub his body raw of the regret and shame and scent of tequila coming from his pores.

Monet’s room isn’t too far from the elevator - thankfully - and Nina jabs the button approximately eight times, even though he knows it won’t help anything. It makes him feel better.

The doors finally slide open and Nina wants to die. Prays for a chasm to open where the tiny slit between elevator and wall is so he can just step into it and bid his painful existence farewell. Because lined up along the back of the elevator, is the entire cast of the Dream Girls: Vanjie, A’Keria and Silky. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Vanjie’s texting frantically on his phone but his mouth gapes open as Nina steps into the elevator. The doors slide closed with a soft whoosh and Nina faces forward instantly, does his best impression of someone that doesn’t exist.

“Hello there, Miss Nina!” Silky is much too loud, and much too cheerful for the throbbing in Nina’s head. “Ain’t you looking well-rested this morning?”

Nina gives him a small, awkward salute over his shoulder, but can’t make himself turn around. Maybe the cable will snap, that would be okay. Death, at this point, would be a welcome distraction from the heat in Nina’s cheeks and embarrassment roiling in his stomach. Or maybe that’s the tequila again. Yeah, that’s the motto. Blame the tequila - for everything.

“We were going to lunch,” Vanjie says gently, “if you want to come.”

“You can shower first, we’ll wait,” Silky continues, “Gotta get that stank off you. We’ve all been there, walking back down to the room after getting some trade in the hotel—”

“Silk,” Vanjie hisses under his breath.

Nina just shakes his head and tries to focus on the numbers ticking by. “No, thanks,” he says as the numbers land on five and the doors slide open. “I think I’ll just order in.”

He’s out of the doors and feeling like he’s over the worst of it, when Silky’s parting comment hits him right between the shoulder blades.

“You walking funny, Miss Nina?” Silky whistles after him. “Must have got that good D.”

And that’s when Nina decides that he absolutely, positively cannot go to lunch with Monet. It can’t be done. Can’t happen. Cannot continue.

Whatever happened between them last night was fueled by alcohol and angst and they have to leave it there in the hotel. He makes his mind up definitively as he scrubs at his face under the shower spray.

If they’re going to work together (which Nina very much hopes they will because Monet is amazing - might be one of the funniest people Nina’s ever met, actually, as well as a brilliant musician and - and anyway that’s enough) they have to forget about last night.

So he will. And that starts with not going to lunch.

When Monet knocks on his door and calls his name, Nina doesn’t answer. It isn’t the most mature way to handle the situation, but he isn’t feeling incredibly mature in that moment. So he remains silent for the entire five minutes that Monet stands at his door (heart beating like a snare drum in his throat, shame burning across his cheekbones.)

Later, when he steps out in the hall to collect his room service (because he does have to eat, Monet wasn’t wrong), Nina finds his jewelry atop his neatly folded shape wear just outside his door. Monet’s phone number is printed neatly on a square of hotel stationery, speared through one of his earrings so it can’t get lost.

And maybe, Nina thinks later as he enters the digits into his phone illustrated with the yellow-heart emoji (so what if he’s sentimental?), he wishes he had been just a little more mature.

Or a little more brave.

He blames the tequila.

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momo-de-avis · 5 years ago

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Do you have any writing tips for someone that is definitely not a writer but wants to be better at writing anyway? That might be too vague so I'll say this, I have a lot of trouble getting an idea that isn't either something really small that doesn't make a narrative or something gigantic and complicated that I dont have the will to take on. No middle sliders in my life.

You have an issue my boyfriend has, he has great ideas but either believes they’re just something too small for a long narrative or so long and complex he doesn’t know how to plot them.

I can’t tell you what the right way is, because everyone is different of course, but I think there’s two ways you can go about it to try and figure out which might help you best.

First of all, take notes on every idea you have. I’m serious. However small it seems, just write it down. Even if it’s something as trivial as ‘man eats an apple while staring at a tree’, whatever. I find that, when something really tiny like that pops into my head with that thing of ‘dang, I need to write this’ but it just seems way too trivial for me to care, it’s because of how I’m visualizing it. I’ll tell you this, this one time I was having a cup of coffee near the library after a break and I saw this woman in the gardens looking at a tree, and that’s what gripped me in that moment. It was really stupid, but the thing I saw was what made me explore that for some reason. I thought she looked sad, I don’t know why, it just looked really sad, and it looked like that sad woman just casually looked up at a cypress tree like she wanted to see something pretty on a shitty day. Later on, must have been years, I was trying to write a scene where a character was supposed to compose a text for school about why she mattered and the only thing that came to mind was that woman looking up at that tree. I’m telling you this because the littlest thing can really help. If you get that unexpected pang of ‘damn, this is cool’ or ‘wow, this is really pretty’, take the chance to write down the what and why at least. Because you never know!

Now, as for development, there’s two ways to go about it that might help you. You can explore the character-driven side of narrative, or the plot-driven. These are, I’ll be honest, two things I have a hard time distinguishing but I mostly follow character-driven.

Plot-driven stuff generally has people planning beforehand (hence why I suck at it lmao). Some people follow the 3 Act structure, or other ways to go about it with planning (this is a good place to check out a few). As the name says, the plot is the star. There is a narrative you want to develop. There’s a central plot with probably very little sub-plots, but that one plot is the main goal. Most likely, one protagonist or two, both with goals that they will achieve or not at the end.

Character-driven, though... the characters make the story. It’s really hard to explain, so I’ll explain how I do it. I essentially have to have the characters very well established. Who they are, psychologically. Once I know them, I let the story flow naturally.

This has helped me a lot because most of the times I have a premise, not a plot, and on my first draft (not even a first draft, more like preliminary exercise lmao), I just try that approach to try and understand who these characters are or what I want them to be, so that they can move the story. Eventually, what happens is I have the inciting incident settled, the lowpoint as well or just something in the middle that is a plot device, and the ending established, but as I progress, since I know the characters, new things emerge like, completely new conflicts and reactions that just occur to me as I progress. But this is my method, it’s how I work.

For me, personally, sitting down just TRYING to find a plot, or an extra for the already existing plot, is tiresome and it drains me. So I just go ahead and do something and see where it goes. I follow the character instead of the plot (ask stuff like “what would she do if a stranger bumped into her on the subway, what should do if she witnessed this or that, what would she say if someone asked her this and that”, and go from there).

Another thing is: find your voice. I mean mostly style. I find that most of the times people struggle with this because they are struggling with finding their style, because once you get your voice established it might become easier in developing your story. For example, I always loved bullshitting my way through stuff if it involves words lmao, and when it came to creating long stories, I had an issue with planning. I remember at school my teachers would have us write a detailed plan of our story before the actual story, and we were forced to turn them both in for grading, which fucking sucked, because I don’t plan.

Then I read Virginia Woolf and learned about this neat little thing called ‘stream of consciousness’ and thought, fuck you, 9th grade teacher. Stream of consciousness is essentially a style where the author focuses on one small detail, seemingly trivial, and then develops an entire fluid string of throughs that interconnect with each other however contrasting they are (why the sentence “Mrs. Dalloway thought she’d buy the flowers herself” is so remarkable, because for the WHOLE BOOK, Woolf debates about many things, seldom being flowers. Hell, one of my favourite short stories is her meditating on a fly that lands on a bowl of milk).

So what I learned with this was: bullshitting your way out of purple prose has an academic word for it! Great! This also validated a lot my lack of planning, meaning that every time I drivelled instead of following a step-by-step plot I was actually building something worth a damn, because that exercise of developing a string of thoughts that are born from one shitty thing is something that can happen inside a novel.

So you see, finding my style, in this case, helped me find my voice and it became very easy ever since to juggle my methods with my ideas. This is my experience, of course, and it’s worth what it’s worth, but this little thing is what helped me establish that, I might have an idea, but if I let it flow, it might grow into something.

Of course, there’s that last advice: read more, watch more TV shows and movies within the genre you’d like to explore, etc etc, but I think it always goes without saying.

And one more thing: no story, for me, is too small or too long. It has its own natural length. Sometimes, we have ideas that are naturally shorter. It just means they’re short stories, or novellas, or novelettes. When my boyfriend told me he had that same problem -- that he had ideas he just didn’t know how to develop into full books -- I told him: then they’re short stories. And that’s fantastic.

The thing is, being a writer isn’t like something immutable, you’re not the same always, you know, you’re not always in this place, with this style, writing about this thing. You keep changing, keep finding new voices, keep exploring new angles, just continuously growing, as with any other artistic field. So maybe right now, those might be short stories, but who knows in the future?

I was reading American Gods and Neil Gaiman apparently republished it a second time, a much longer version his former editor had told him to cut down, and at the beginning he quotes Stephen King on why he did it: cause there were small bits in it, sub-plots if you will, editors are keen on thinking they don’t add to the main plot, but they build the story as a whole, paint the colours needed for the setting, the ambience, the narrative outside the main plot, and both authors felt their concepts, their ideas, weren’t complete without them.

My first advice when someone has an idea is always this: write it down, however it is, with whatever you have. It might be one paragraph. It might be 400 pages. Whatever you have, it’s just a first draft, and the goal of a first draft is getting it down on paper, not turning it into the finished work. It’s the first step.

And if it’s gigantic? Make it gigantic. This is Miss Only Writes Gigantic Shit speaking. I mean monstrous. Especially first and second and even like, third and fourth draft (man I have a lot of drafts), it’s so brutally long I seriously have to take a step back and think “bitch, slow down”. Eventually, I chop down stuff. Scenes that don’t add anything, repeated stuff, scenes that establish what is already established -- just stuff that misses the eye.

Just to say, let the story have its natural rhythm in the beginning stages. Writing is like baking, as I say: you need to set it aside and let it settle for a while, and then when you come back to it with a clear head, you’ll be able to compose it better. Eventually, it drives you down misery road and actually have to do the dreadful thing of leaving stuff out -- it’s sad, I won’t deny, looking at this one character and saying “goodbye, you were a good one, but I have to put you into the Unused Character Pile, maybe one day you’ll find your light, but not today, and I’m so sorry, but where you are right now, you’re useless lmao”. It’s a step that comes eventually, but it’s not needed in the early stages.

But in the end, it all comes down to motivation, I think. So first and foremost, I would say... find your motivation to write whatever you have. You could read more into the genre you’re thinking of, or you could try and write small vignettes of the story you have in mind (just pick a scene and try writing it down, just to see). You could try a challenge of sorts, like picking up a concept, a word, a sentence, and try developing it. Create a habit too -- don’t mind that “write every day” stuff, do it whenever you feel like it, whenever you get that tingle of ‘damn I feel like writing’, just answer that call. And always believe in your ideas, and I say this because I find that a lot of lack of motivation comes from ‘my idea sucks’ or ‘it’s been done before’. Your ideas are yours alone, so explore them as much as you can.

I used to have a website saved that I lost and this is the closest thing to it I found, but try this out for like a first plot, or just to generally get an outline of your idea. It has HELPED ME TREMENDOUSLY when I have a new idea that just makes me think “Great! now what the fuck do I do with it?”

I hope this helped, anon!! And sweet, sweet writing, my friend!

#Anonymous

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