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ckret2 · 4 months

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Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist.

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky.

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room.

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream.

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here."

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it.

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Note

Ethan is trying to do work and the reader distracts him which turns into more. Just Ethan being flustered and trying to focus while reader teases him. 🤗

I've done a version of this with Mindy

Warnings: nudity, teasing

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’Did you see my green highlighter?’’

‘’No. I have a blue one, here.’’ You fished it from your pencil case, but Ethan didn’t take it.

‘’I can’t use blue.’’

‘’I have pink, yellow and orange if you prefer—’’

‘’No. That’s not what I meant. I have a color code. Green is for the things I understand, blue is for what I don’t understand and the glittery gel pen is for underlining things that I think are gonna be in the exams.’’

Fondness filled your stomach. He was so precious and nerdy at the same time. You reached across the bed to grab the collar of Ethan's henley and kissed him sweetly.

‘’Eh…what was that for?’’ Ethan asked, a little dumbfounded. ‘’I love your kisses, it’s just that we really need to study—’’

‘’You are such a nerd.’’ You kissed him again, lingering your lips on his. ‘’But I love you.’’

Ethan’s cheeks flushed the cutest shade of pink. ‘’I love you too.’’

You went back to studying, reading pages of textbooks until your eyes burned. Why was there so much to read in econ? Maybe you should switch majors?

‘’Have you read the chapter about taxation?’’ Ethan asked, a pen in one hand and a highlighter in the other. ‘’My mind is literally going to explode from the amount of information.’’ His eyes were fixated on his textbook, concentrated on what he was reading.

A breath of air left your lips. ‘’I have not. Sorry.’’ You ran a hand through your hair, flicking through pages with your other. ‘’I’m like…two chapters behind.’’

Ethan snapped his head up. ‘’Two?! What have you been doing all this time? Mrs. Coleman is gonna question us about these chapters next lesson.’’

He was right, but you had been studying for over three hours and nothing was sticking to your brain anymore. Your learning batteries were full for today. Maybe you’ll bring your textbook to your shift at the campus library tomorrow. Thursday afternoons are always quiet.

Before you, Ethan had returned to his reading, pen cap between his teeth while he was underlining long paragraphs. Sometimes, you wished he wasn’t so serious during study dates. School was important, but it doesn’t mean you can’t take a few makeout breaks.

You tried getting back to reading, but the words were not sticking. So you threw a paperclip at Ethan. It hit his chest and you grinned amusedly.

‘’Hey! Stop throwing shit at me,’’ he scolded, throwing it back at you.

‘’Let’s take a break.’’

Ethan shook his head. ‘’Can’t. I have another chapter to read and then I’m meeting with a study group.’’ He checked the time on his phone, making sure he wouldn’t be late.

A study group? You thought you were going out for late dinner at the café right outside campus. They have this new breakfast all day menu and you couldn’t wait to have waffles for dinner.

You pouted in disappointment. Guess there won’t be any waffles tonight…

‘’Can we at least cuddle before you go?’’ you asked, impatient to wrap your whole body around Ethan like a koala and kiss his face while he holds you back with his strong arms.

Your question was left pending and you were tempted to chuck a pillow at the curly haired nerd before you — but you didn’t. Instead, you took advantage of focused attention and removed your shirt and bra without him noticing. You felt a shiver up your spine when the cool air of Ethan's dorm hit your warm skin, causing your nipples to peak.

Ethan was addicted to your tits. Maybe he’ll put down his textbooks for a few minutes.

‘’This part is really important. Do you think we should make flashca—’’ Ethan cut himself and you heard him make a little noise, his bambi eyes falling on your breasts exposed right before him. The pen he was holding fell from his grasp and you smirked.

You felt the weight of Ethan’s eyes on you, all the information he just read suddenly swept away. ‘’What is it you were saying?’’ You let your hand crawl up his jeans-covered thighs and a swallow bobbed its way over his adam's apple when you almost reached his crotch. ‘’Cat’s got your tongue, love?’’

Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but your hand was getting higher and higher. A whimper slipped from his lip when you reached your desired spot, feeling him growing stiff beneath your palm. It’s so good to tease him.

He reached for your breasts, his palms enclosed over them, kneading into them as his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store.

You sighed in pleasure, grazing your fingers along Ethan’s jaw. ‘’How many chapter do you have left again?’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x you #ethan landry imagine #scream 6 imagines #scream 6

2K notes · View notes

daydreamingyuta · 2 months

Text

[7:12 pm] | Mark Lee

summary: fluff, drabble, getting ready with bf!mark for a date to your favorite restaurant <3 wc: 685 a/n: Happy Mark Day!! 🩵🩵

You’ve been looking forward to this date for weeks now. You love it when Mark takes you out no matter what you end up doing, but going to a nice dinner has always been your favorite. There’s just something about getting all dressed up and having a nice meal with the love of your life that was irresistible to you. (and not to mention getting to ogle at Mark in a suit all night long!!) So when he told you he made reservations at your favorite restaurant, you couldn’t be more excited.

You spent the last hour doing your makeup, hair, and getting dressed. Mark spent that time watching a movie, already dressed except for his suit jacket that’s currently draped over your couch.

“You like my new dress?” You ask him, standing in front of the tv and posing for him.

Mark’s smile lights up but it’s his eyes that tells you just how much he’s enjoying the new view. “Yeah, I do.” He says, voice cracking slightly. “Did you buy that for me?” His head tilted to the side.

“No, of course not. I bought it for myself.” You walk closer to Mark as he sits up on the end of the couch. “Really?” He asks, sliding his hand behind your thigh pulling you in even closer. “Because it’s that light blue you know I love on you.”

Your cheeks heat up as you smile down at him because you did in fact buy it because you know he finds you irresistible in baby blue. Denying it was pointless anyways, he knows you too well. “I’m almost ready to go, I just have to put on my shoes.” You say ignoring his remark because you both know the truth. His hands slide back to his side as he lets you go.

You walk over to your big mirror to make sure everything looks nice. Your eyes shift from yourself to Mark as he comes behind you, wrapping his arms around you and you notice that he’s put his suit jacket on. “Do I not compliment you enough?” His head rests on your shoulder.

“I’m just making sure I look fine.” You say smiling while fixing a couple baby hairs that were sticking out.

His eyes scan you like maybe he might find a single flaw, but doesn’t. “You look more than fine, baby.”

You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and flashing him a smile. He absentmindedly plays with the hem of your shirt, not because it needs fixing but because of his habit of always having his hands on you in some way. You learned this about him very quickly from the way he always traced little hearts on your thighs when you sat next to each other and how he never can stop himself from periodically kissing your temple when you cuddle.

You loved this habit of his so much.

“You ready?” Mark asks, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah! Let me just put my shoes on.” Mark follows your gaze to where your shoes sit on the floor. He’s quick to grab them before you have the chance and motions to your bed. “Sit.”

You happily oblige knowing the buckles on your heels are always hard to put on by yourself. He kneels down in front of you and slips on both shoes making sure they’re not too tight or too loose. “You’re so sweet to me, Mark.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows and his eyes meet yours. He stands up only to cup your face into his hands, leaning in to give you an unexpected kiss. “Anything for you.” He says with a hint of shyness that he shouldn’t have after years of being with you, but does. His hands drop from your cheeks to your hands, pulling you off the bed. “You ready to go? I’m starving.”

You nod your head as you straighten his collar out. Once you're done he grabs your hand and you two head out the door, gushing about how excited you are to go to your favorite restaurant again.

#happy mark day!!#mark lee #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #fluff #k-pop #drabble #imagine #nct scenarios #fanfiction #mark lee x y/n #mark lee x reader #mark lee x you

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featherandferns · 1 year

Text

F.W.B. (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader

content warning: drug use; sex (protected; oral; p in v)

word count: 9k (o god)

blurb: friends with benefits (phrase) - a friend with whom one has an occasional and casual sexual relationship; no feelings attached.

The first time it happened, it was after a kegger.

Sunset had turned dusk on the beach. There had been the vague smell of smoke from the bonfire, sticking to everyone’s clothes, and beer, liquor and marijuana. Cigarettes and cider. The Boneyard was a free for all: Kooks and Pogues and tourists alike. If you wanted to let lose, maybe have a dance and shotgun a few beers, then you could. If you want to catch-up with your friends, make the most of the summer, then you could. And if you wanted a quick hook-up, be it a fling or otherwise, you could. That was usually the way JJ leaned. It seemed tonight, you had leaned that way too. That was how you had ended up in bed with him.

Now, you balanced on one leg, leaning against his door for support, wrestling on your trainer. You were already dressed.

JJ was watching you from the bed.

“You do this a lot?”

You frowned and looked up from your foot.

“What?”

“Like, do you hook up with people a lot?”

“Why would you ask me that?” you asked, somewhere between offended and confused.

“Just making conversation,” he shrugged.

JJ leant over to grab papers and bud from his bedside table, preparing to roll. His arms flexed when he did. It was already hard to remember how they felt wrapped around you; pulling you closer, tugging you nearer.

“Making conversation by asking if I’m a whore?”

“Woah!” he laughed, meeting your gaze again, wide eyed. “I never said whore!”

“What else could you mean?” you say, going back to tying your shoelaces.

“Just wondering,” he mumbled. When you looked back over, he was concentrating on laying the bud evenly in the papers. Sighing, you stood back on two feet.

“How about you?”

JJ looked up again, brows furrowed in question.

You held back your smirk, putting on an overly sweet, gushing voice as you went, “I bet you get like so many girls, JJ. Oh my God.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, going back to his rolling. “Touché.”

“That’s what I thought,” you grinned.

It was still dark outside. The crickets and owls made a symphony of the banks. Mosquitos hovered around the lamp that was on, having snuck in through the cracked open window. There wasn’t anybody else at the place. You’d followed JJ back to what you assumed was his house about an hour and a half into the kegger. Sighing, you glanced around the room and debated whether to head straight home or go back to the kegger. People would still be hanging around: it wasn’t too late. JJ hadn’t offered for you to stay over and you hadn’t suggested it. You knew that that wasn’t how these things worked. You didn’t mind that.

“You want a hit?” JJ asked, holding up the now finished joint.

You considered him a moment. Bare torso, abs proudly on display, basking in the orange hue from the bedside lamp. Hair messy and damp with sweat from the forehead, which still held a sheen like a freshly waxed board.

“Sure,” you shrugged, taking perch on the foot of the bed.

Crossing one leg under the other, you watched as he lit up and took a long drag. Taking it from him, you did the same, the vapour gently dissipating before your eyes. The smell consumed your senses, the drug slowly taking effect, mellowing you out. Handing it back, you rested back on your arms and took in his room.

“Where’re your parents?”

“Huh?”

“How come you got the place to yourself?” you wondered, looking back to him.

“I don’t. Not really. It’s my friend John B’s place,” JJ said. “I’m just crashing here.”

“John B…John B…Why do I know that name?”

“He goes to the same school as us,” JJ told you. That was something you’d come to learn when you first started talking to him, earlier that night. Gesturing with his free hand to his hair, he added, “brown hair? Kinda long?”

A picture came to mind, of someone you vaguely remembered from one of your classes. The name seemed to match the face well. Angular face and sharp cheekbones. Tanned skin and the strange memory of a bandana, always attached to him one way or another. You nodded.

“Ah, yeah. I remember.”

“We’ve mostly been hanging out here for the summer,” JJ said, taking another hit.

“Doing what?”

“Surfing. Fishing. Odd jobs to fund the necessities.”

With the latter sentence, he smirked and held up the joint. You smiled back.

“So, I’m taking you as a live-by-the-moment sort of guy?”

“I don’t know,” JJ thought. He studied the joint a moment. “I guess I am, yeah. Like a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda guy, I reckon.”

“Ah,” you hummed. When he offered the joint, you gladly accepted, taking another hit.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you a planner?” he wondered.

You took one more hit and handed back the joint. It felt strange, how easy it was to make conversation, and light conversation at that, as if half an hour ago you weren’t as close as two people can get. You didn’t much mind, though.

“Maybe,” you said.

JJ laughed, shifting further up the headboard and messing with his hair. “You always this secretive?”

Giving a small laugh, you shrugged and sighed. “Maybe…”

“Well, I like girls with a bit of mystery,” JJ grinned suggestively.

You chuckled at that. Getting to your feet, heading to his bedroom door, you replied, “don’t get your hopes up, Maybank. I’m not much for commitment.”

“Hell, neither am I,” JJ agreed, almost joyously. He tipped his joint to you as if he were a Victorian gentleman, tipping his hat in farewell. “But I have a feeling I’m gonna see you around.”

Something about that made you pause. You raised a brow as if in challenge. “Oh, you do?”

“Mhm,” he grinned cheekily, tongue pressing against his cheek.

The way he sat, half naked, confident in his skin and his charm: there are few people who hold that sort of aura around them. Noticing this, you began to smirk, eyes narrowing in something akin to suspicion.

“You’re a player, aren’t you? I bet you’ve got hoes.”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t know me like that.”

“Maybe not,” you said, walking towards him again. “But I know guys like you. Yeah, you like the chase. The feeling of getting someone to fall for you, to be weak for you. The thrill it gives.”

“You psychoanalysing me or something, sweetheart?”

“Wouldn’t be much to note,” you replied easily.

“Why don’t you try me on out? I know you wanna be friends,” JJ boldly said.

Licking your lips, you bit back your smile. Hands on your waist, you rocked on your feet in thought. The weed was giving your brain a nice buzz. Paired with the beer from the kegger (that had mostly worn off), it was a pleasant thrum running through your body.

You sighed, as if he’d twisted your arm and glanced around for a pen. When you found one (abandoned on the desk) you walked over to him and began to write on his forearm. He seemed taken off guard at first, before shamelessly looking down your top as you leant over him. You didn’t mind. It wasn’t like there was anything to hide now.

“You didn’t get a good enough look earlier or something?” you mumbled. You clocked his grin in your peripheral.

“If only I could take a picture. Think it’d last longer.”

“In your dreams, Maybank.”

“Every Goddamn night,” he smirked.

You’d be lying if that didn’t stir your stomach in the most delectable of ways. There was a reason why you’d ended up in his bed and not somebody else’s.

Finishing off the last digit, you capped the pen and placed it on his bedside table. Then, you stole the forgotten joint from his fingers and helped yourself to a drag. He watched you, mild surprise written on his face, and then full-on shock as you grabbed his jaw, fingers somewhat firm as you guided his mouth to yours. Exhaling into his mouth, messily falling into a kiss, you smiled as you felt his body go slightly slack under you.

He wasn’t the only one who liked making people feel weak.

Pulling away, you smiled down at him. His lips were still parted, wet from your spit. The image of it stirred something inside you.

“Text me, if you wanna prove me wrong,” you challenged lightly. With that, you gently patted his face, turned and left his bedroom.

You closed the door behind you, leaning against it a moment as you caught up with yourself.

The smell of weed was weaker out in the hallway. It was also darker, with no moonlight flitting through any windows. Instead, wooden walls, adorned with picture frames. You took the time to passingly inspect them as you went to leave. An older man (bearded and broad) with glasses, and a woman with pale skin and dark, nearly black hair. Another of a man fishing. Several of who you could now confirm was John B, some of which JJ appeared in, alongside a brunette girl and dark-skinned boy. One photo of this consistent gang made you smile. Arms looped over one another’s shoulders, hair wet and body littered with water droplets that twinkled under the sun and camera flash like glitter. Dopey smiles on all their faces. Maybe around thirteen or fourteen. For some reason, the picture stuck around in your head as you left the house, starting your walk home.

The second time it happened, it was after midnight.

“Is this seriously a booty call text?”

JJ was leaning against the doorframe of the porch’s netted fencing. Looking down at you, as you stood at the bottom of the stairs, he glanced at your upheld phone, open on his text message. Your conversation thread was phenomenally short. Impressively short.

You up?

Who is this?

The best sex you’ve ever had.

“Knew it,” he grinned.

You frowned, befuddled. “What?”

“I’m the best sex you’ve ever had,” he sighed casually, stretching his arms out. You finally caught on and immediately rolled your eyes.

“Seriously?”

“How else would you know to come here?”

JJ’s eyes scanned your body, head to toe, then back again. You felt a zip run down your spine, but you didn’t want him to think he was winning. You wanted to hold onto your dignity for a little longer.

“There’s only one person who I’ve hooked up with who’s shameless enough to send a ‘you up’ text,” you told him, beginning up the stairs. “It was pretty easy to figure it was you.”

JJ rolled his eyes and started down the few steps to meet you halfway. Standing over you, blue eyes staring down, he gnawed on his lower lip, slowly letting his smirk shine through.

“Well, it worked. That’s good enough for me.”

His lips on yours was now somewhat familiar. You had a sense for how he kissed. Strong at first, all consuming, and then tender as if he were pulling back, easing off. Then stronger again, possessive even. It was captivating and confusing and messy. When his hands traced around your waist, lower over your ass, cupping just beneath to let his fingers sink into the skin of your thighs, just light enough to avoid bruising, you felt yourself melt into him. Arms looping around his shoulders, tethering around his neck as if threatening to strangle. Grunts and moans and heavy breathing as it all become shamelessly obscene. JJ stumbled up the stairs, tugging you with him, and eventually the two of you were on the porch. He seemed to have a vague idea of where to bring you because soon he was tumbling backwards onto a sofa, and you were being pulled down on top. You chuckled, somewhat breathless, against his lips.

You fingers found his hands that had come up to your waist, scratching at your skin, teasing at your t-shirt. Looping your fingers into his, interlocking them sweetly, you didn’t pull away from the kiss. Not until you took your strength to push his arms above his head, holding them down. You moved to better straddle him, feeling him against your thigh, hard through his shorts.

When he opened his eyes, he looked intoxicated and spent. Wet, swollen lips. Pink cheeked. Muscles straining as you held his arms down. You knew he had the strength to push you off, to break free from your hold, but something about the fact that he hadn’t, that he wasn’t, turned you on even more. The thought made you grind back against him, and you relished in his groan.

“Fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

Leaning down again, your lips found the nape of his neck. It began with kisses. Light and sweet, like a child planting dainty pecks on flower petals. Then, you slowly, sensually, and ever so softly, dragged your teeth against the skin. You felt him inhale sharply beneath you. The way the muscle running up his neck tightened, was as if he’d clenched his jaw. You smirked. Working on a hickey or two, you let him free his hands, body almost sighing in relief as he began to touch you again. Your ass, your waist, your legs. Lasciviously coming to your chest, thumbs circling the underside of your breasts. Dragging over your nipples, sensitive through the thin cotton. You moaned against his skin, feeling yourself clench. This was good.

“You wanna take this off for me, pretty girl?”

“You want me to?” you ask back.

“Why’s everything a challenge with you, huh?”

You could hear the grin in his voice, crooning and sensual. Something right out of a fantasy. You leaned back, sitting back on his waist. As you pulled off your top, his hands came to rest on your waist, fingers skimming the skin patiently. Once off, and tossed to the side, you bit your lip as if pretending to suppress your smile, watching as he took you in. You’d once been insecure of your body, the way any girl had, but you felt unashamed to admit that after sleeping with your first boyfriend, that fear went away. They didn’t care what shape you were or what size. The poor suckers are just so glad to be in a position where a girl is willing to sleep with them, that they have no complaints.

That said, the way JJ took you in, hands carefully inching up your body as if teasing you, cupping your tits with just enough pressure to make you sigh, head starting to tilt back to the sky…You felt like the prettiest girl on the planet.

“Jesus Christ, thank God for that kegger,” he mumbled as if in a daze.

You laughed, shaking your head, and then leant down to kiss him again.

From there, no more time was wasted. His shirt joined yours, somewhere on the porch floor, and as the susurrus of the late night-early morning wind rattled the netting, making some wind chimes attached to a far tree sing-out hauntingly, you ended up on your knees on the porch floor between JJ’s parted legs.

The grin that came to JJ’s face when his brain catches up is enough to light up the night sky. But as you go to finish tugging off his boxers, he suddenly sits up.

“Wait.”

Your hands halt on the waistband, eyes flashing up in concern. He’s glancing around, bare chest rising and falling a little more than natural, out of breath from the antics. Then, he’s handing you a couch cushion that he’d somehow found. You take it slowly, confused.

“For your knees,” he explained, nodding down.

You followed his line of gaze and do as he suggested, shifting yourself so your legs were no longer on the splintering floor. It wasn’t that you’d been particularly uncomfortable before, but it certainly felt nicer. There was something weirdly sweet about it and it made you smile.

As if in thanks, you planted a kiss to JJ’s bare inner thigh. Then another, and another, closer and closer. His boxers join the pile and you take your sweet time going down on him.

On the fifth time, it was tryst.

It was a humid night. The air felt thick with moisture, as if warning of rain tomorrow, and you felt like in the chateau it was ten-fold worse. The sex in the air probably didn’t help the clammy feeling that came over you. JJ seemed to notice your discomfort because, once you were clad in your underwear again, he proposed the two of you go outside for a bit.

On the grass outside was a bench, a little old and wobbly. JJ tossed some couch cushions and blankets your way from the porch, and you barely caught them, chuckling. Once the bench was a little comfier, the two of you settled on either end. JJ pulled out a joint, as per tradition, and lit up. The two of you passed it back and forth, telling dumb jokes and proposing dumber philosophies. The conversation eventually died down, as did the craving for weed, and you stretched out your legs onto JJ’s lap, lolling your head back to look at the stars.

The weed made you feel lax and mushy, and you watched as the sky stretched on for miles. Constellations appeared from thin air, twinkles so dainty and brilliant that it put you in a trance. You vaguely registered JJ lifting your right arm, guiding your fingers to his lips. He pressed kisses against them, one by one, and then to your palm. It’s this that caught your attention; your eyes flitting down from the sky to find his already watching you. Against your leg, you feel him harden slightly under his shorts. A part of you considers teasing him about it and cracking a joke, but the thought gets pushed aside. Instead, you shift so he can climb atop. He kissed up your tummy, over your bra covered chest, up your neck, leaving a hickey. You sigh and go pliant like soft clay. Your hands seemed to find home in his hair and you gently rake your fingers through the messy blonde locks. Kisses to your jaw. Cheek. Earlobe. Lips. Then the two of you are making out. It’s different than the other times; there’s no rush to it and no definitive place it will lead to. There just is.

When you eventually broke apart, JJ rested his head on your chest. Your fingers find home in his hair once more, teasing through some nots, beginning to braid some longer strands together. For some reason, you want to ask him why he is always at John B’s house, and never his. You want a real answer. But you don’t. You know it isn’t the time and he won’t tell you. What should it matter anyway? You’re just hooking up. You preferred it that way.

Commitment wasn’t something that came easy to you. There wasn’t anybody to blame, necessarily. Your parents were fine enough and no ex had severely scarred you enough to traumatise you from another relationship. But those relationships had never lasted long. They’d been built on rocky foundations and delipidated rather easily. Maybe that was what put you off. The feeling that it didn’t matter; that it would all end anyway, with their face becoming another blur in the crowd, and their voice a laugh which could be recognised anywhere. That you’d end up alone, and you never understood why.

“What’s your favourite colour?” you asked JJ, trying to find an end to your thought spiel.

“Blue, I think,” he said against you. “Like the water. Kinda mossy blue?”

“Aquamarine?”

“That’s such a dumb word,” JJ sighed. You chuckled.

“Okay, so not aquamarine. How about turquoise?”

“Just blue,” JJ told you. “A very specific blue.”

“Okay, JJ,” you chuckled gently and began to undo one of the braids you’d made.

“What about you?”

“Green,” you say.

“What kind?”

“Forest green. Like…deep, cosy green,” you explained. JJ hummed as if he could picture the colour.

“Nice choice.”

“Why thank you.”

The two of you fell back into silence again, save for the common sounds of the banks. It’s the softest you’ve ever been with one another. Usually, the moment never strayed from sex and flirting. Sometimes the odd word passed back and forth as you got dressed or shared a joint. This was different. You liked it.

“What do you do for fun?” JJ asked.

“I box,” you reply.

“You box?”

“Mhm. I’m on the team at school. Been keeping practise up at the gym throughout the summer,” you say.

JJ shifts so he’s sitting up, and he meets your eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you laughed. “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“I dunno,” he said, chuckling a little. “I just had you pegged as a volleyball girl or some shit.”

“Like a tennis girly? With the little skirts and all?”

“You wouldn’t hear me complaining,” JJ couldn’t help but grin, laughing when you shove at his face. “Seriously, though. What kind of boxing?”

“Competitive,” you shrugged.

His eyes look pretty in the moonlight. You’d never really noticed before. It’s then that you realised you’d never properly seen him in daylight or spent time with him when it wasn’t night or dark.

“You on the team, d’you say?”

“Mhm. Second best.”

“Who’s first?”

“This bitch Samantha,” you muttered, making JJ laugh. “It’s not the best team but coach says he might be able to put me up for a scholarship or something.”

“You smart?”

You snorted. “God no. Thick as shit. But, if I can get into college on a scholarship, then it could be my ticket out of this shit hole.”

“You mean you wanna leave this paradise?” JJ joked, gesturing to the water. The falling-apart jetty and the horizon that had yet to warn of morning.

“Paradise on earth,” you mumbled the infamous tagline of the sign.

Sighing, you laid back down. JJ seemed to agree, resting on your stomach, legs tangled with yours.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you know that when you woke up, JJ’s comforting pressure wasn’t on you anymore. When you woke up, you were outside of the chateau, blinking against the morning sun, alone.

By the seventh time, it was a pattern.

It felt like you were seeing flashes of colour.

Clenching your eyes shut, your mouth was hanging open in silent, insurmountable pleasure. You hopelessly grasped around for some kind of purchase: the sheets, the headboard…You feel your hand being guided to someone’s head, and with that you knot your fingers through JJ’s hair. He groans at the pull. Blue. Somewhere inside of your empty lungs you find a moan, falling past your lips. It only spurs him on. Digging your heels into the skin of his back, just below his shoulder blades, you somehow drive him closer. Green. It’s not enough for him to be going down on you. It wouldn’t even be enough to have him in you. You need him in your veins, in your head, passing through every synapse and invading every molecule. You just need him, him, him.

Red.

When you come, it’s with a shuddering, hopeless, sigh of his name. One of his hands comes to splay across your stomach and hip bone, as if you had begun to lift off the bed and he was guiding you back down. The moans turn to whines and whimpers, lips trembling from the afterglow. Eventually, as your thoughts begin to come back to your head, you let out a small laugh, face burning hot. Lifting one hand to rub at your forehead, raking back your hair, you will your eyes open.

“Fuck,” you sigh through a chuckle.

Looking down, you see JJ falling back on his haunches, chest heaving as if he’d ran a marathon. As if he’d been the one being eaten out. The sight of him, wet lips and damp chin, a cocky grin gradually coming through, it makes you clench around nothing, driving your teeth into your lower lip. You coax him down to you by extending out your arm, smiling against the kiss, moaning quietly at the taste of yourself on his lips.

“Best you’ve ever had?” he asks against your mouth, barely pulling back.

You swat his face away with a tired laugh.

Since that second night, he’d made a habit of asking you it every time. You’d made a habit in doing anything but to tell him the truth: that yes, he was. Nobody needed a JJ with an ego that big, not even you.

“You got some water or something?” you ask him quietly, flopping against the pillows.

“Sure,” JJ says, getting up.

The bed shifts as he walks away. There’s the faint sound of a tap running from another room. You smile to yourself and close your eyes, sighing. The bed dipping with his weight tells you he’s back, and JJ helps you sit up, handing you the glass.

“Thanks,” you mumble before taking several long gulps. When you’re done downing the water, you look to see JJ holding out a t-shirt for you. You chuckle and take it.

“I gotta pee real quick,” you say, routine as always.

He nods and watches as you get up from the bed, pulling on the t-shirt. It’s his, of course. Says something about Kildare County on the back: proud to be from the homeland. You make the familiar route to the bathroom of the chateau. As you go, you make sure to keep the t-shirt tugged down over your modesty. You and JJ had made a habit of you leaving the bedroom in clothes after the infamous run in with John B. Whoops.

Once done, you wash your hands and brave a glance in the mirror. The sight makes you want to laugh. Hair a mess – unruly and untamed – and some leftover mascara smudged under your lower lash line. Swollen lips, rosy cheeked, the beginnings of a love bite already forming on your neck. You want to laugh as a thought comes to your mind: you look like some common whore. Running the water and digging about in the cupboards, you wet your face and hair, finding a random comb and trying to tame some of the tangles. It’s a little better.

When you leave and head back to JJ’s self-proclaimed bedroom, he’s sat atop of the sheets of the bed, rolling a joint. Now wearing boxers, he sits lent against the headboard, one leg bent and the other extended out leisurely.

Sighing, you collapse in a heap at the foot of the bed. You feel him prod at your waist and you bat him away.

“You good?”

“Mhm.”

“How good?”

“Stop.”

“I’ll just keep asking.”

“I’m not gonna tell you you’re good in bed,” you say to the ceiling. JJ snorts.

“Why not?”

“Cause.”

“Cause?”

“Cause it’ll go to your head,” you tell him. You don’t hear a rebuttal (because he knows you’re right). You turn your head so you can watch him. He lifts the paper to his lips and licks it, sealing it shut. “Sides. I feel like it goes without saying.”

“What does?” JJ asks, now searching for his lighter in the mess that is his bedside table.

“You know what.”

The blank look JJ sends you your way tells you no, he does not. Sighing, you clarify. “The fact that I keep hooking up with you. That speaks for itself.”

When the penny finally drops, JJ’s face twists into the most cocky, proud grin you’ve ever seen, and you immediately want to take it back. You tell him this with a groan, tossing your head back, but he’s laughing and basking in the indirect comment you’ve just given him. The comment that he’s pretty God damn good in bed, to have you falling back in it so many times.

“How come you never ask if you’re any good?” JJ wonders. The flick of a lighter tells you that he found one.

“Cause I know I’m good,” you simply say. “And the fact that you keep inviting me to hook up with you also speaks for itself.”

“Can’t argue with that,” JJ mumbles.

You smell the marijuana the moment he takes a drag. Sweet and crisp and only slightly overwhelming. Leaning down with a groan, you begin to lazily search around for your shorts on the floor. Eventually, somehow, you find them, and from the pocket you dig out your cigarettes. You steal the lighter JJ had used from the quilt and light up, lying on your back once more.

“You shouldn’t smoke those, you know?”

You open one eye and look at him. Exhaling out a breath of smoke, you ask, “are you seriously telling me not to smoke whilst you smoke?”

“Cigs, I mean. Gives you cancer.”

“I’ll be sure to tell the government,” you mumble, taking another drag.

“I’m serious. That shit is gonna kill you.”

You sort of smiled. Opening both eyes now, you take in JJ’s expression. You felt as if you knew him well enough to read his face. Something like concern lingered behind his relaxed demeanour. Sitting up, leaning towards him, you took another drag and exhaled it in his face.

“Well, now you’re gonna die too,” you grin.

JJ wafts it away and shakes his head at you. His smile tells you that he’s not offended. “It’s a good thing you’re hot.”

“Is that all I’m good for?” you fake gasp, hand coming to your chest.

“Wait, I thought that what’s all women were good for? Are you telling me women can do more than just be hot?” JJ plays along, gaping in mock horror.

You chuckle and break the charade. Pulling your knees to your chest, you continue to smoke, as does JJ. The floor is a mess. Piles of clothes – some yours and some his – mixed with shoes and hats and abandoned pairs of swimming trunks, probably still damp as he hadn’t hung them out to dry. Scattered around the room was empty cans and bottles. An empty box of condoms in the paper bin. As they catch your eye, a question comes to you.

“Are we exclusive?”

At first you wonder if JJ even heard you, as he doesn’t reply for a while. When you look over to see if he was off in his own thoughts, he’s watching you, as if you were the one who was supposed to answer.

“I don’t know,” he says noncommittedly.

“Okay, lemme ask it another way,” you mumble, putting out your cigarette on the windowsill ash tray. “Have you slept with anyone apart from me since we started hooking up?”

JJ looks away and out the window, as if he doesn’t want to answer. His jaw clicks tighter. You frown. Things suddenly feel tense, awkward even. It never had been that way between the two of you, not even after the first time you fooled around.

“Jayj?”

“Have you?”

When he asks, he’s looking you in the eyes again. There’s a bite to his words as if he’s proposing a challenge. But you’re not shy to talk about it.

“No,” you shrug. “No point, really.”

“No point?”

“Like, you’re not…terrible,” you eventually settle on, careful to avoid boosting his ego more than you already had that night. “And it’s easy.”

“Easy?”

“Are you gonna repeat everything I say?” you wonder sardonically, quirking a brow.

“Why’re you asking me this?”

“Just wondering,” you say, becoming uncomfortable as his tone seems to harden more and more. “Thought we should know who each other’s seeing and stuff.”

“Why? We use protection, it’s not like there’s any point,” JJ practically grumbles.

“Jesus Christ, it really isn’t that deep,” you half-laugh. You start to wish you hadn’t put out your cigarette.

“It’s not like you’re special or anything.”

And okay, ouch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’re just fucking. You’re good in bed. That’s it,” JJ tells you in an even tone.

You stare at him, waiting for the punchline; waiting for this cold façade to break. It doesn’t. He holds your gaze, unfaltering.

“Seriously?” you ask, voice weaker than you want it to be.

JJ doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes one last hit of his joint before putting it out. Then he’s standing up from the bed.

“It’s late,” he says, looking around his floor. He finds a t-shirt (gives it a sniff and seems to think it’s clean enough) and pulls it on. Then he’s searching again, and you watch as he digs out your clothes, holding them out to you. It takes you a moment to catch on.

“Are you serious?”

JJ shrugs. “It’s late, is all. Not like you were gonna stay over anyway.”

Any humour is gone. You knew you weren’t going to sleep over; you’d only done that once on accident. That wasn’t what offended you. It was the way JJ had gone about it, like you were some nameless chick in his bed who he needed to sneak out before his parents came home…It made you feel dirty. It made you feel used.

Snatching the clothes from him, you get up and begin to change. JJ doesn’t watch. Instead, he kicks about things on his floor in some attempt of tidying. When you’re back in your own clothes, his t-shirt now in your hand, you make a point to toss it on the bed.

“Fuck you, JJ,” you mumble, heading to his bedroom door.

“What?”

“I said fuck you.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” JJ snaps, glaring at you.

Something akin to a laugh comes from your mouth, but there’s a bitterness to your tone. “When you’re man enough to talk, lemme know.”

“Get out of my room,” JJ darkly says.

You shake your head. With a scoff, you tell him, “gladly”, and then you walk out of his room. The tears don’t come until you’re outside the house, as if the sting of the wind sobers you up to the situation.

For the eighth time, it was making up.

The house party some random Pogue had thrown was in full swing. Some Kooks had caught wind, naturally, and decided to join the festivities. For the most part, it was Pogues, with the odd, innocent tourist mixed amongst the lot. JJ liked it that way. He felt like he was amongst his people; could let his guard down more.

Kiara was sat outside on a porch swing with Pope, the two seemingly in light conversation. JJ wandered over with a beer in hand and snuck up behind the dark-haired girl. He grinned to himself as he suddenly grabbed her shoulder, shouting in her ear. She let out a yelp, swatting at him as he started laughing. Pope rolled his eyes, also a little spooked, and JJ gave a half-hearted apology through his laughs. He sat between the pair on the swing, encouraging it to rock with his heels dug into the dirt.

“How many are you on?” Pope asked, nodding down to the can.

JJ shrugged. “Who cares? It’s a party.”

“So this has nothing to do with you and your lover having trouble in paradise?” Kie wondered, voice teasing.

JJ rolled his eyes and took a swig. “She’s not my ‘lover’.”

“Hook-up?”

“Bed-pal?”

“Friends with benefits?”

“Alright, alright,” JJ groaned, waving away their synonyms. “Hilarious, guys.”

“What happened with that? I thought you two were hitting it off,” Pope said soberly.

“We were, I guess,” JJ admitted. He looked out to the garden with a sigh and then took another drink. “Doesn’t matter, though. It’s done now.”

“Done?”

“The ‘best sex you’ve ever had’ is just done?” Kie checked.

“Yep,” JJ said, flashing her what he hoped was an unbothered grin. He held up his can as if in cheers. “Use them and lose them, is what I say.”

“JJ—”

“No commitment, no sha-mittment.”

“Wise words, Aristotle,” Pope mumbled.

JJ finished his can in several large gulps and crushed it beneath his grip.

“Need a refill,” he announced. He staggered to his feet, swaying when he stood. He could see Kie’s concerned gaze from his peripheral and pointed at her - just. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’ll be sure to have the ambulance on standby,” Pope assured sarcastically, watching JJ walk away. He kindly flipped them off as he went.

“Assholes,” he muttered to himself.

The world was dragging, taking too long to catch up with him, and he struggled to find the kitchen. Had someone moved it? What the hell?

When he found himself in a hallway which he hadn’t yet been in, JJ knew he was both lost and hammered. Whoops.

“JJ?”

He spun around, blinking slowly and rapidly, all at once.

It was you, stood in a sundress, worn down with a grey zipper cardigan and trainers. You frowned at him.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked.

“How much have you had?”

“Just a couple,” JJ said, shrugging. “What’s it to you?”

“It…isn’t,” you say, looking off.

JJ suddenly panics - scared you’re going to walk away - and he finds himself grabbing for your wrist. You make a move as if you’re going to take it from his grip, but then you don’t. He aimlessly guides you into a quieter room, where the music isn’t so blaring and the chatter of others doesn’t bounce of the walls. It happens to be a bathroom.

He locks the door and spins around, immediately feeling green.

“You okay?” you tentatively ask.

JJ nods, but that only makes it worse, and in a matter of seconds he’s darting for the toilet.

There’s something so wonderfully humiliating about throwing up.

“It’s alright,” you say, rubbing his back. He feels the weight of your hand move up and down against his damp t-shirt. JJ cringes into the toilet. So. Embarrassing.

“Sorry,” he gasps, preparing for more to come.

“You don’t gotta be sorry,” you mumble.

He hears you shift around and notices as you sit down, back against the wall. You’ve taken your hand from his back and instead have placed it in his hair, rubbing his scalp soothingly.

“Feel better?”

“Maybe,” he sighs. You nod and lift your arm to flush the toilet.

After a few more bouts of vomit, JJ’s sure there’s nothing left. He leans his cheek against the seat of the toilet, the porcelain cold on his skin, and watches as you get up and head to the sink. You find an abandoned solo cup and rinse it out, filling it with water and offering it to him.

“Here,” you say. He drinks.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to help.”

“Sure I did. If you died, I would’ve been the last person to see you alive,” you tell him, making him laugh.

“Nice to know your heart’s in the right place.”

“You don’t sound so drunk now,” you say.

“Thanks,” he repeats, less grateful.

He sighs and sits up, leaning against the bathroom wall. The room’s spinning less. His ears aren’t rining as badly. There are the remnants of booze blurring the lines between what he wants to say and what he doesn’t.

Someone tries the door and you yell at them to leave. JJ’s never heard you yell before. It sounds unnatural.

“I’m sorry for the other night.”

His eyes shoot open.

Looking to you, wondering if he misheard, he finds you’re already watching him. You’re fiddling with your knuckles, picking at some scabbing, probably the aftermath of training. He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that you box. You’ve always had an edge to you but picturing you fighting someone…The thought was sexy as hell, he was unashamed to admit.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, as if worried he hadn’t heard, and he comes back to reality.

“About what?”

“About the other night. About asking if we’re exclusive. Like you even owe me that sort of explanation,” you say. “We had a good thing going. It worked for both of us, and I messed it up.”

JJ doesn’t say anything. You sigh, taking his silence as space to continue, and you look down to watch your handiwork as you go on.

“I’m not great at relationships. I mean, I don’t think I am. Every single one that I’ve been in ends up in flames, so…Not the best track record.”

JJ watches as you sigh again, tossing your head back to stare at the ceiling. Your throat is empty of love bites and it looks foreign.

“I try my best in them. Try to be the good girlfriend. Fun and unassuming and pretty and funny. Present and thoughtful. I think I’m doing a good job, and then…Boom. Another one in the shitter. Guess I’m just the common denominator.”

“Denominator?”

“I’m the common thread,” you clarify, looking to him again. You shrug. “But, all cards on the table, I felt like I didn’t have to try with you. I never felt like I was needing to put on a show or think about things as much. Maybe it was because we were only hooking up, but there was never any pressure to be the better version of me. Maybe there is no better version of me. Maybe I just…am.”

JJ stares at you for a minute and you seem to hear back what you’ve said, cause then you’re cupping your face and laughing, embarrassed.

“God, that was so cringey,” you chuckle beratingly. “I promise I’m not high.”

“It wasn’t cringey,” JJ tells you.

Your laughter dies down. You don’t make a move to remove your face from your hands, though. It’s easier for JJ that way, to tell you the truth without having you watch him. If you can lay all your cards out, then so can he. Thank God for vodka, he thinks.

“My mum and dad weren’t the best role models,” JJ admits, clearing his throat. It feels raw after throwing up. “She dipped and my dad’s…a mess. It’s a lot and I won’t bore you with it all but…I just don’t do well with relationships. I barely do well with friendships. Half the time I wonder why my friends hang around with me, and the other half I spend wondering when they’re gonna leave. When they’re gonna realise that I’m nothing special, or important.”

“JJ,” you whisper, going to lift your head. JJ panics and dumbly shoves your face back into your palms. You let out a bark of laughter, and then start nodding as if in understanding. “Okay. Go on.”

JJ takes a breath, removing his hand from your hair.

“I hook-up with people cause it’s easy and there’s no strings and all that crap, and it makes me feel good. But you’re different to the other people I’ve slept with. You’re funny and witty and would say these really nice things out of the blue. You’d do nice things, too. Like when you made me mac and cheese one time after we’d fooled around cause I said I’d been craving it for days. Nobody’s ever really done anything like that for me. I wasn’t sure how to react.”

Here it comes – crawling up his throat. The thing he was terrified to admit. The thing he was so scared to tell you, that he threw whatever thing you had going down the drain, and then apparently let you believe that it was you that steered them off the road.

“We were exclusive. I didn’t want to sleep with anyone else when I was with you.”

JJ doesn’t give you time to react or respond. The words are falling out of him now.

“I didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want you to leave, and it freaked me out cause I’ve never felt like that with a girl before. All my God damn thoughts were about you, like I was brainwashed. Fuck – they still are! It’s like I wake up and think about it. Think about what you’re doing and where you are. Think about getting you off. Think about how you looked when I told you to leave. How fucking scummy that was of me.

But I got scared. I got scared when you asked me cause it meant we’d have to actually acknowledge that there was something more there, and that things would change, and that terrifies the shit out of me because when things change, it’s usually for the worst. You’d see the real me and my life and learn about all my shit, and you’ll see that I’m nothing good. And I just start thinking about when it’s gonna end. How I’m gonna mess it up, cause I always do.”

He catches his breath. The words hang heavy in the air. JJ stares at you. You still have your face in your hands.

He leans back against the wall and looks down at his fingers, twisting some of his rings. He slowly lets out a breath, pressing his eyes shut.

“Sorry. That was a lot.”

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

“Can I look up now?”

JJ can’t help but laugh. Looking to you, he quietly tells you, “Yes, you can look up now.”

When you do, JJ immediately spots the tears on your cheeks. His heart clenches. It’s a new feeling. Strange and unpleasant, though not for the reasons he thought it would be.

“Not everyone leaves, JJ,” you say, wiping your face.

He shrugs.

“I mean it,” you affirm. He sees when an idea comes to mind, your beautiful face lighting up. “There’s this song I like. I guess it’s spoken poetry. It’s called Sunscreen. In the song, the guy says something. He says, ‘accept that some friends will come and go, but hold on to a precious few.’”

JJ frowns, unsure where you’re heading.

“And whilst I agree that you yourself have to hold on, there’s also the other person holding on for you. Sticking their feet in and telling you that they’re not gonna leave when things get just a bit tough. I mean, I feel like you and John B have been friends for ages. One of the pictures in the chateau is of you guys really young.”

“Since the third grade,” JJ quietly says.

Smiling back, you take a breath then say, “I can’t promise you that everyone’ll stay, but I can promise you that I want to. I want to stay, with you. I want to know all the ugly things and I want you to know the ugly things about me. Nobody’s whole and nobody’s perfect, and everybody’s shit scared of opening themselves up because the moment you do, you can get hurt. But sometimes to live, I think you’ve gotta get a bit hurt. So, I want to stay, but only if you want to me to.”

JJ slowly began to smile.

He did. He wanted you to stay. He wanted you to meet his friends and to watch him surf. He wanted to have you stay over and have the balls to be there when you woke up. He wanted to see you in the morning, eating breakfast, and after sex, spent and tired. He wanted to watch you train and box, and cheer you on and kiss the bruises. He wanted to know the things you hid about yourself, and the things that made you somehow imperfect. He wanted your smile and your dumb jokes and the way you like to have the control, the way you fight him for it. He wanted the way you made him feel and the reassurance just your company brought, that somebody wanted him too.

JJ wanted you.

“I want you to stay,” he said. He swallowed and smiled, properly. “I want you to stay with me.”

Your face glowed with your smile. Crinkles by your eyes and a slight girlish giddiness as you quietly laugh down at your hands, bashful all of a sudden. Bashful like you didn’t know that his dying wish was to be baptised in your spit. Like you didn’t get off on being on top; of having him weak under your spell.

“If I hadn’t just thrown up, I’d fuck you right now, right here,” JJ says.

You bark out a laugh, tossing your head back before smiling at him. “Oh really?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna toss me out on the streets after like a hooker?” you risk in a joke.

JJ rolls his eyes and tries to shove away the shame he feels for doing that. He knows it’s in the past now. Can tell by the way you bite your lip through your smile.

“Shut up.”

“Wow. Incredible come back,” you push. He laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m serious. Shut up.”

“Make me.”

The look in your eye becomes almost dark. There’s a quirk to your smile that makes his stomach clench and shrink. He gnaws on his lip. Somehow dragging his eyes from yours, he looks to the bathroom sink and cupboard. He forces himself to his feet and tugs it open, looking around for something – anything – that’ll get rid of the vomit taste stuck on his tongue. A toothbrush. Fuck yes. Maybe God doesn’t hate him after all. When you catch on to what he’s doing, you start to laugh. He quickly brushes his teeth and tongue, rinsing out his mouth.

“Seriously? Guys and their dicks, Jesus.”

“Shut up,” he gurgles, pointing at you with the brush. You laugh harder and JJ can’t help but smile. The best goddamn laugh.

Spitting out, he wipes his mouth, tosses the toothbrush to the side, grabs your hands and tugs you up to your feet. His lips are on yours in a second, clumsy and frantic, and your laughter doesn’t die off immediately. It does when he picks you up, lifting you onto the sink. You gasp against his mouth, somewhat caught off guard. Hands wrapping around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair, JJ feels as you wrap his legs around his waist and tug him closer.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pulling back. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavy. You open your eyes slowly and smile, sweet. You’re so sweet. “I missed this.”

“Damn right you did,” you smirk.

There you are.

As you start making out again, there’s something deeper at play. His hands move to your thighs, working up your sundress, and your fingers tug at his hair in the most delicious way. He groans against you. He’s hard and desperate and horny and still somehow a little tipsy. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything about this is just…

“You gonna eat me out or what?”

The words, whispered right down his ear…JJ’s surprised he doesn’t come on the spot. Somehow, he finds his control, enough so to reply, “didn’t anybody teach you manners, princess?”

When you kiss, it’s teeth and tongue, and dirty and messy, and fucking delectable. JJ begins down your neck, over your chest, finding enough space on your collar bone to suck a love bite. It was driving him crazy, seeing your skin unmarked. You shrug off your cardigan and lean back a little, hands scrambling to not slip on the damp sink’s porcelain. You watch him as he makes his way to his knees, shoving up your skirt, and lift yourself off the edge of the sink enough for him to slide your panties down your legs.

“You’re so pretty,” you tell him in a pant.

JJ’s eyes glance up to meet yours. Sees the way your teeth are sunk into your lower lip, a small smile adorning your flushed face. The beginnings of a love bite forming already. It’s the feeling of one of your feet digging into his shoulder blade, urging him to you, that spurs him on.

He takes his time eating you out. Savours the moans and bathes in your whimpers. The sinful sweetness of you on his tongue. His fingers dig into the skin of your thighs, trying to find some self-control. They’ll probably bruise. It’s a nice thought. It’s ephemeral, over too soon; you come with a near-silent moan, ankles locking around him, holding him against you. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“JJ,” you sigh, sounding desperate. He feels you shift and falls back on his haunches, wiping at his face. Licking his lips. Closing his eyes, he tries to level himself. He has to make it last, at least just a little longer.

The feeling of your hand prying at his shirt has him coming back to reality. JJ looks up at you, panting a little, and smiles lazily at the fucked-out look on your face. He helps you pull him to his feet, kissing you the moment he’s standing above you, smirking as he hears you moan from your own taste. You’re fucking filthy. And it’s only for him. The thought makes him desperate to fuck you.

It seems your mind is on the same track because your fingers start fumbling with his short’s zipper. He pulls away to help you tug them off, dragging his boxers with them.

“You got anything?” you ask, voice no more than a breath.

JJ scrambles through his thoughts and nods, shoving a hand through his damp hair and grabbing for his wallet; digging about with shaking hands, retrieving a condom. You take it from him and open it - giggling in a way that’s too sweet for the salaciousness of the moment - and put it on him, rubbing for longer than you need to. Somehow, he forces your hand from him.

“Can’t do that or I’m not gonna last,” he breathlessly chuckles before pressing a kiss to your lips.

Your arms loop back around his neck, tongue slipping into his mouth, and JJ’s hands slip under your legs and pull you to sit on the very edge of the sink.

The moment he sinks into you, both of you sigh against one another, body’s singing as if in reverence. The sex is rough and rushed and rapturous. Your head rests on his shoulder and your moans fall straight into his ear, as if coming straight from God’s mouth.

And once again, it’s all over too soon. You finish first, JJ soon after, gasping against your shoulder, damp and clammy with sweat. As he fucks you both through it, slowly coming to a stop, your fingers thread gently through his hair, rubbing soothingly at his scalp. He rests in you for a while. The two of you slowly catch your breath, arms tangled around one another, a head on the other’s shoulder.

You’re the first to move, and you do so only enough to kiss him. Tender now. Almost loving. JJ sighs into it, stroking your back gently. The thought of having you near again…It’s almost like he has air back in his lungs. It’s a strange feeling, a bizarre and new one, but JJ’s no longer scared of it like he was before. How can he be when you’re right there with him?

Breaking apart, your foreheads rest against one another, and JJ braves opening his eyes. You’re already looking at him. The two of you smile at the same time, and you begin to laugh.

“Not bad, huh?”

JJ grins.

“Best you’ve ever had?”

“Oh shut up.”

2K notes · View notes

lustfulslxt · 10 months

Note

hii can u do a smut femxmatt fic where they meet at a party and they like are kinda drunk and matt’s really flirty and touchy and they just end up fucking!! ty!!!

(kinda like ur party revelations one but maybe they’re both influencers or u could even do chris!)

Under The Influence - Chris Sturniolo

warnings : alcohol consumption, smut

a/n : i wrote this for chris bc as you said, i have party revelations for matt, and a friend of mine received a request just like this for matt. xx

—

Tie it up, put a chain on it

Make you tattoo my name on it

“Will you please come?” Sage begs, shaking my hand up and down, on the verge of a temper tantrum.

“You’re literally being ridiculous.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I don’t see what difference it would make if I were there or not.”

Sage has been asking me to go to this party with her for weeks now. However, my answer has been a constant no. I’m not a fan of parties, much less big influencer parties. Too much drama always stems from them; whether it’s so and so cheated, whoever’s beefing, they did this, they did that. They never fail to have some dumb shit pop off, hence why I’d just rather not go. I don’t need anyone attempting to ruin my reputation and career just for their own benefit, I’m good.

“Because you’re my best friend and I need you. You’re my hype man and wingman all in one. Please! Just this once! I’ll do anything!” She continues to plead.

I sigh, ultimately knowing I’ll cave, “This is the only party you’re going to convince me to go to. You know how I feel about being around a bunch of fake and dramatic fucks.”

She instantly starts jumping up and down, cheering whilst shaking my hands again. “We’re leaving in three hours, so make sure you’re ready. Also, we’re gonna uber so we can get fucked up.”

I just shake my head, not really looking forward to the night ahead of me. But maybe, just maybe, I can get drunk and enjoy myself. Dismissing my thoughts, I turn on some music and head to my bathroom to begin getting ready.

I take a long shower, thoroughly washing and exfoliating myself. I shave and do a hair and face mask, prepping myself for tonight. After getting out, I dry off and apply vanilla scented lotion to every part of my body.

Next, I slip on my undergarments and apply deodorant, then head to my closet to choose an outfit. It doesn’t take me long, before I choose a plain, black mini skirt and tube top with a long sleeve mesh dress paired over it that had gems scattered all over. I stick with a pair of black lace up pumps to go with my outfit. Sitting down at my vanity, I go through my makeup, debating on what kind of look I want. After pondering for a moment, I just choose a dark smokey eye with a basic beat. I line my lips with a medium dark brown and apply clear lip gloss, blending it all together flawlessly. For hair, I just stick with a basic blow out.

“Great! You’re ready!” Sage suddenly cheers from my bedroom door.

I look over and see that she’s fully dressed and ready to go, holding a bottle of vodka in her hand. Upon seeing that, my eyebrows raise.

“Why the face?” She asks, before registering it. “Oh, this! It’s for a little pregame. So, come on.”

I shrug and gather everything I need for tonight, placing it in my purse, then follow her downstairs. She already has two shot glasses set out on our dining room table, ready to be filled. Without another word, she fills both glasses to the rim with vodka, smirking at me as she raises her glass.

“Cheers to a great night!” She grins, clinking my glass with hers, both of us downing the harsh liquor.

My face contorts in disgust as the liquid flows down my throat, and I can’t help but cringe at the awful taste. Immediately, my chest is hot and I don’t want anymore. I’m not really a drinker, but I already know I can’t be sober in order to get through this night. We both take two more shots before our uber arrives and we’re heading to the party.

The driver talked our ears off the whole ride, so when we finally shut the doors of the black suv, we both sigh and fall into a fit of tipsy laughter. We’re not drunk, but neither are we completely sober.

Upon walking into the party, we’re met with a glowing red light, loud music, the smell of alcohol and weed, and a ginormous amount of people all chatting and dancing throughout the house.

“Y/N! Sage!” A voice calls out, directing our attention towards them.

It’s one of Sage’s friends, one I personally am not a fan of, but I know how to be nice. I shoot her tight lipped smile, leaving Sage to greet her.

“Hey! It’s been so long, how are you?” Sage asks, pulling her into a hug.

Before she can respond, I quickly interrupt, “Sorry, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

And with that, I’m making my way through the crowd of people, in search of the kitchen. It takes me about five minutes to get through everyone and I’m already slightly disgusted at the sweaty bodies and the lack of personal space. I’m not lying when I say parties aren’t my thing.

Finally being able to breathe in the less packed room, I deeply inhale and exhale, ridding myself of the building nerves. I walk over to the counter, grabbing a solo cup from the stack and browsing through the bottles of alcohol. I opt for an unopened bottle of vodka, not wanting to risk anything that may or may not have been tainted. I fill my cup up a little over half way, then turn towards the cooler to grab a chaser. More people have already piled into the kitchen, there now being less room to roam around. I reach into the cooler, grabbing the last can of pepsi, only for it to come up with another hand attached to it. My gaze trails up the veiny hand, following the arm it’s attached to, to observe who it is.

Bright blue eyes, pink lips, a sharp jawline, and wavy hair. A silver Vivienne Westwood chain hanging from his neck, sitting atop a white t-shirt that had a bear in a watering can, surrounded my grass and little flowers. Blue jeans and, last but not least, white air forces covering his feet.

He looks familiar. Hot, yet still familiar.

“Oh, hi.” He grins, snapping me from my thoughts.

That’s when I realize we’re both still holding the can, but I don’t let go.

“Hi.” I reply, my gaze set on his face.

“I think this is the last pepsi.” He points out.

I nod, raising my eyebrows at the obvious statement. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Pepsi’s my favorite.” He adds.

I can’t help the smirk that tugs on my lips, “Do you want a cookie?”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “I can’t have it?”

I only repeat his action and shake my head in return, pursing my lips to keep the smile from forming.

“Can we share it?” He asks, giving me puppy dog eyes.

And just like that, I’m folding. With a shrug, I pull the can from his grip. I open it up and dump some of its contents into my cup, then bring the can up to my lips, taking a drink all whilst holding eye contact. I notice him intently watching me, before grabbing the can and taking his own drink, licking his lips afterwards.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He questions.

I nod, biting my inner cheek, “And you are?”

“Chris.” He smirks, eyeing me and up and down. “Well, Y/N, we basically just kissed.”

I can’t help the loud laughter that falls from my lips, nothing less than amused at his statement. I can see the smirk on his face turn into a full blown smile as I try to catch my breath, recovering from the fit of giggles he put me in.

“That was corny.” I say, smiling at him with a shake of my head.

He tosses his hands up in defense, shrugging, “I mean, did we not?”

I don’t say anything, and bring my mixed drink up to my lips, downing all of it in one go. His eyes widen as he watches me. I don’t like alcohol, but I can manage. It doesn’t take long for it to take effect, on top of the shots I had earlier, I can already feel the warmth coating my insides. With a surge of boldness, I lean forward and place a small peck to the corner of his lips, swiftly pulling away and making my exit.

Just before I slip away, I turn back and flash him a smile, “See you around, Christopher.”

As the party goes on, I can tell the alcohol I’ve consumed has fully kicked in. The loud music is no longer bothersome, I don’t feel suffocated in the sea of people, and I feel good. It’s been around an hour since I’ve been here, and I’ve only ran back into Sage once. She’s off with her other friends, mingling around, and I’ve just been vibing.

I’ve seen Chris around, more times than I’ve seen anyone else. Unless I’m just fixated on him. It’s like every time I turn my head, my eyes are meeting his, and I never want to look away. Though, to save myself from embarrassment and humiliation, I force my gaze elsewhere.

After downing another shot, I make my way to the makeshift dance floor, and let loose. Under the Influence starts playing, and I can’t help but move my body to the beat, letting the rhythm flow through me. My hands make their way into my hair, my hips swaying in sync with the beat booming in my ears. Suddenly, I feel a warm presence directly behind me, causing me to spin around.

Hot and delicious.

Christopher.

“Hey, mama.” He slurs, a goofy grin showcasing across his lips.

He’s definitely invading my personal space, but I don’t even care. Especially when his enchanting scent is filling my nostrils, winding me in closer.

“Hello, Christopher.” I reply, my speech slightly incoherent.

“I knew you knew who I was.” He stammered, his body damn near pressed against mine.

“Mhm.” I hum in response, turning around and backing into him.

“You look good like this.” I hear his voice in my ear.

I grab his hands that were just barely grazing my waist, bringing them to fully grab my hips as I move into him. His large hands guiding me back and forth.

“You’re so pretty, it’s distracting.” He mumbles, his breath fanning my neck.

I can feel the goosebumps spreading, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“You’re drunk.” I softly say.

He shakes his head, “I’m not drunk. I’m just intoxicated by you.”

Again, I’m bursting into a fit of giggles from something he’s said. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m drunk or if he just makes me nervous.

“You’ve been stuck in my head since I first saw you earlier.” He admits, stumbling over his words a bit.

I turn back around, looping my arms around his neck as we continue rocking to the music. His hands go up to my waist, pulling me into his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him.

He licks his lips and shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping, “You don’t wanna know.”

Instantly, my eyebrow raises, “Try me.”

“I see you flipping your hair around and all I want is to wrap my hands in it while you’re taking my cock.” He states, his voice low and husky.

I immediately feel heat rush to my core, the sound of his voice and the words he’s saying, turning me on. I bring my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on it to prevent the large smile that’s close to taking over my face.

“What if I was thinking the same thing?” I ask, the grin breaking through.

“Will you freak out if I kiss you?”

Looking up into his eyes, I subconsciously scoot closer to him as I shake my head. His eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips, then he slowly leans in. The second his mouth meets mine, my eyes flutter shut and I’m savoring the feeling of his soft lips on my own. One of his hands reaches around me and cups my ass while his other one is wrapped around my throat, pulling me impossibly closer. As our lips mold together, I find my hands in his hair, my arms holding him into me. The kiss is desperate yet soft, passionate yet hot. He pulls away, his face only centimeters in front of mine.

“Follow me.” He says, his breath slightly heavy as he intertwines our hands.

I do as he says, following closely behind him. We walk through the kitchen, dodging everyone in our way. We round the corner to a staircase leading downwards. He pulls me in front of him, ushering me to go down.

“After you.” He says, holding his arm out for me.

I shoot him a look, before grabbing his hand and walking down the stairs, him following in suit. We get to a door that he opens for me, nodding to enter. It’s a large bedroom, quite tidy in itself, and I can smell his scent wafting through the air. Only now did I realize this is his house. As he shuts the door, I walk around, taking everything in. My hands trail across the edge of his bed, feeling his comforter beneath my fingertips.

“Do you like my room?” He asks.

I turn around to face him and he has a soft, innocent look upon his features. However, I can already see right through him. I know what’s about to take place.

“I do.” I nod, “It’s very neat, and it smells good.”

“Thanks.” He grins, strolling over to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was your party?” I ask him, sitting on the end of his bed.

He shrugs, “Why did you pretend you didn’t know who I was?”

I toss my head back, soft giggles pouring out of my mouth. I look at him with a cheeky smile and low eyes, shrugging my shoulders. He just grins at me, before kicking his shoes off and nodding towards mine. “You can make yourself comfortable if you want.”

Within seconds, I’m unstrapping the uncomfortable heels and setting them aside. He lays back on his bed, his legs dangling off the side. He grabs my hand and gives it a soft tug, so I copy his actions, and lie back. We’re both facing one another, drunk and happy.

“How come I’ve never seen you at any parties?” He questions, his fingers playing with mine.

“I’m not really a party girl. Definitely not an influencer party girl.” I admit, warmth building in my stomach at his soft gesture.

“Well I’m glad you came to this one.” He says, staring into my eyes.

“Why’s that?” I smirk.

“Because who knows if I would’ve met you had you not.”

I can’t help the blush that pools to my cheeks at his response. He’s flattering and he knows it. I don’t say anything, I just take in his features for the millionth time tonight. His hair slightly out of place from my roaming hands, his face flushed from the heat upstairs, his eyes lidded from the alcohol in his system, his pretty pink lips looking oh so kissable. He looks so good. Without a word, he pulls me closer to him, my body flush against his.

“Is this okay?” He asks me, trying to read into my facial expression.

“It’s perfect.” I nod, enjoying the warmth he’s providing.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers, his breath fanning my face due to our short proximity.

A smile sneaks onto my lips as I look down, attempting to hide the red color that’s now adorning my skin. His large hand grabs my chin and lifts my head so that he can see my face. Our eyes meeting in an intense gaze, holding it for what seems like forever. He only breaks the eye contact when he puts his lips on mine again. It’s only a soft, chaste kiss.

“So pretty.” He says again, his voice low as he continues to press gentle kisses onto my lips.

The delicate kisses turn into feverish ones, our tongues now gliding in and out of one another’s mouths, lapping each other perfectly. Our lips move together so well, like we cannot breathe without each other. My hands return to his hair, softly tugging it, eliciting low groans from him. One of his hands cups my cheek, the other one resting on my lower back, pulling me even more into him. He flips me over onto my back and hovers above me, staring into my eyes once more as a small smile takes over his face.

“God, I can’t get enough of you.” He groans, smashing his lips into mine again.

One of his hands rests on the bed by my head, the other one rubbing my outer thigh. Just his soft touches are enough to make my skin hot beneath his fingertips. My hands connect with the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly and running my hands up his torso. He breaks from the kiss and removes his shirt, tossing it on the floor, then reconnecting our lips. He’s positioned between my legs, his groin inches above mine. My hands continue roaming along his torso, feeling his hot skin. I bring my legs up, hooking around his waist, pulling him down into me. His clothed erection presses into my heat, causing a low moan to leave my lips.

“Are we really doing this?” He pulls back and asks, his fingers playing with the hem of my dress.

“Yes, please.” I answer, my voice soft and breathy.

He grinds down into me, his hard on hitting exactly where I need him, causing another moan to leave my mouth.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you.” He groans into my ear, leaving a wet kiss on it.

I shudder in pleasure as he continues down my neck, sucking and biting, marking me up. I reach down for his dick, palming it over his jeans. He lets out a low moan, bucking into my hand, before harshly grabbing both of my hands and pinning them above my head.

“You first.” He mutters, holding my wrists with one hand while his other one travels down my body.

His hand swiftly makes its way between my legs, my dress riding up as he kneads my thighs. Then, he’s rubbing my core through my underwear. Hums of pleasure come from me, and I can feel them growing wetter and wetter.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, his voice raspy as he looks into my eyes.

“Y-yes.” I answer, moaning louder as he presses harder into my heat.

“So good using your words, mama.” He groans, licking my neck.

He then pokes his fingers in the waistband of my panties and slowly pulls them down my legs, discarding them to the side. He spreads my legs again, my dress and skirt now sitting completely on my hips. He throws his head back at the sight of my pussy glistening with my arousal. Without another word, his face is hovering above my center, his warm breath hitting it. I can feel myself clench around nothing, desperate for any type of stimulation.

“Look at you. I haven’t even done anything and your pretty pussy’s begging for me.” He smirks, his fingers now prodding at my folds.

Now coated with my juices, he runs a finger over my clit, rubbing in soft circles. I’m physically writhing beneath him, so badly needing more. He then thrusts a finger into me, causing my body to jerk and my mouth emitting a loud gasp. He continues pumping it in and out of me, then adds another and doing the same with it. My hands squeeze the bed sheet beneath me, attempting to release the tension building. His fingers are moving so fast in and out of me, curling in the right places. My mouth falls open, my brows furrowing as pleasure overcomes me.

“You look so pretty coming undone like this.” He says, peppering kisses all over my thighs.

“Feels s-so good, daddy.” I moan out, clenching around his fingers, unaware of the name that slipped from my mouth.

His eyes are completely black as he stares up at me, watching me fall apart. His dick is rock hard, throbbing and impatiently waiting to be inside of me. Without a second thought, his lips are wrapped around my clit, sucking on it as his fingers fuck into me. That alone is enough to push me over the edge, my legs shaking as I let go, giving into the building pressure. I feel my cum ooze out of me, quickly being slurped up by Chris, tasting every drop of me as his fingers help me through my orgasm.

“Mmm, you taste so good, ma.” He says, licking my lips.

He pulls his fingers out of me, coming back up to hover over me, shoving them in my mouth. I moan around his fingers, sucking my own juices from them. He harshly grips my jaw, slamming his mouth onto mine, the taste of me lingering on our tongues.

Breathless, he pulls away and stands up, pulling me to the end of the bed by my ankles. His hand travels up my leg from my foot, tenderly squeezing along the way.

“Can you stand up?” He asks, softly rubbing my hip.

I nod and scoot to the edge, standing up on shaking legs and looking up at him. He cups my face, brushing my cheek with his thumb. He plants a sweet kiss on my lips.

“Take your clothes off.” He says, his tone firm.

I happily oblige, stripping from my clothes as he does the same. I watch as his dick springs from its restrictions, hard and throbbing. Just from the look of it, I know I’m in for a treat. He strokes himself as he looks over my body, licking his lips. He steps in front of me, his member poking into stomach. His hands run up and down my body, pressing kisses into my neck.

“On the bed, on your knees.” He demands.

I do as he says, and he follows behind me, holding me up with his hand on my throat. His lips meet my neck, sucking and biting all over it, causing soft whimpers to leave my mouth. He pushes me forward, laying me flat on my stomach. He leans over me, licking and nipping my back, leaving a warm trail of saliva. His hands part my thighs, squeezing himself in between them. I can feel him run his tip between my folds a few times, causing me to push back in anticipation. He pushes me back down, slowly sliding himself inside me.

“Ugh, fuck.” He moans, bottoming out.

“You’re so big, daddy. Feels so good.” I moan, feeling him slowly thrust in and out, filling me so nice.

His strokes start slow and hard, before the speed picks up. His hands are on my back, holding himself up as he fucks into me at a delicious rate. I can’t help the moans that continuously fall from my mouth, feeling nothing but never ending pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, mama.” He groans out, fucking into me deeper and deeper.

It doesn’t take long for me to feel the buildup in my stomach once again. His hand wraps around my hair, tugging back as he leans over me once more. His mouth comes to my neck again, leaving wet kisses. I can hear his heavy breathing and low moans in my ear, and they’re driving me insane.

“Feels like you were made just for me.” He whispers. “I knew you would feel good, but this is better than I imagined.”

“All yours.” I babble, ridden with pleasure.

“You’re so tight, I can’t take it.” He moans, his voice holding a rasp to it.

I clench around him, feeling seconds from giving into my orgasm. A string of moans and curses fall from my lips, pure bliss coursing through me.

“You’re about to cum, I can tell.” He says, “Let it go, baby. Cum for me.”

And just like that, I’m releasing all over his cock with the loudest moans. His thrusts start to grow erratic, indicating he’s close to finishing as well.

“Such a good girl. Taking my cock so well, mama.” He moans out, thrusting harder.

Within a few more strokes, his dick twitches and his hot load is spurting into me, lewd groans emitting from his mouth. He pumps a few more times, riding out his orgasm, before slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of me. He collapses next to me, breathing heavily, looking me in my eyes with a goofy grin. His face is flushed red and his hair is sweaty, sticking to his forehead.

“That was amazing.” He breathes.

Unable to form words, I nod in agreement. His hand interlocks with mine, gently squeezing as his other hand brushes my hair out of my face.

“God, you’re so pretty, Y/N.”

I bashfully smile, “Thank you.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” He asks, his eyes shining with hope. “We can shower and you can wear some of my clothes.”

I ponder for a second before shrugging with a nod, “That sounds perfect. I’ll just have to let Sage know.”

He smiles, brightly, pecking my shoulder over and over as he pulls me into him.

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

—

a/n : this took me entirely too long to finish, so sorry ab that!! also not proofread, as per usual. hope you enjoyed this!! continue sending in reqs and i promise i’ll get to them eventually <3

368 notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 7 months

Text

The Girl Next Door ~ Part 1

A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine.

Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… (I had to write something sweet for my mental health y'all 😆) Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮

You are the very archetype of The Girl Next Door. Well, literally. John Constantine lives in 202, and you in 204. You share a wall, and occasionally, he sort of smiles at you when you meet in the hall.

Like tonight, as your arms are full of groceries, returning home after work. You don’t know what he does exactly, but you assume it’s the same for him, though he is only clutching a brown bag that very poorly disguises a bottle of scotch.

“Hi, John,” you say brightly over a proud sprig of celery sticking out of your bag. It’s almost a running joke between the two of you, your sunny brightness aimed at him like a weapon.

There’s a long pause, like always, before he finally answers reluctantly in his deep monotone, “Hi, y/n. Bye, y/n.”

Before you can engage him any further he disappears into his apartment, closing the door hard behind him, the slam in the air like an exclamation point. You stare for a moment at the space where he’d just been, tall, handsome, his suit rumpled, that tie half undone around his neck. He looked like he’d had a rough day, whatever he does.

He dresses like a professional something, but imagining that man as a door to door salesman with his attitude is laughable, and so is the thought of him working amicably in an office setting.

You go inside and put away your groceries, then spread out what you need to make dinner. It’s Friday night, and you’ve had a long week too. You are making comfort food—it’s kind of a shame to eat it alone.

Half an hour later, while the sauce simmers, you find you just can’t stop thinking about that man next door. He seems lonely, every time you see him. There is something about him that just makes you want to wrap him up in a hug.

He’d probably push you off if you tried, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need a hug.

The thing is…you have this thing. He pretends like you annoy him, but sometimes in the hall, or down in the lobby when you’re collecting your mail, you catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not looking. And the look on his face is never exactly lecherous, like you’re used to with most men who eye-fuck you on the street. His look is more…just…lost, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

You’re sure he’ll say no, but your feet seem to carry you of their own accord, when you find yourself at his door, knocking loudly.

Some time passes and you hear him grumbling on the other side before he jerks open the portal just a crack. “Yeah?”

“I’m making my Nonna’s meatballs and marinara for dinner.”

“Good for you?”

“From scratch.”

“Sounds time consuming.”

“Want to join me?”

There is a very long pause, in which he just looks at you. You can tell he’s at least one drink in already; you smell the fumes on his breath. And maybe it’s stupid, and you’re asking for trouble you don’t need, but the thought that that will be this man’s only dinner squeezes your heart.

Finally, he answers with a question. “Why?”

“Why not?”

This, amusingly, seems to actually flummox him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. In the end he narrows his eyes at you, (those lovely brown eyes, you can’t help but notice), like you’re trying to trick him into something truly heinous.

It’s…kind of funny, truth be told, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning. “Come on. I know you can smell it.” Your door is wide open.

“Maybe I don’t like Italian food.”

“Everyone likes Italian food.”

“Maybe you’re a terrible cook.”

“Only one way to find out.”

He actually growls a little, which for some reason gives you a thrill to the base of your spine.

You really need to get back to stir the sauce. You didn’t anticipate getting this far in the conversation (argument?) with him, honestly.

“Well, door’s open,” you tell him, turning to go. You throw one last little come-hither look over your shoulder, to find he is definitely staring at your ass. Or, glaring, more like.

Maybe you have a screw loose, but you find this adorable.

You go back to your sauce, and lose yourself in the preparation of the other ingredients, watching the pasta to make sure it doesn’t boil over, checking that the meatballs aren’t burning. (Your oven is a dinosaur from the 1970s, and sometimes the temp spikes for no reason).

You are about to drain the pasta, when you find a tall, rumpled man standing beside your rickety thrift store table, looking a bit confused as to how he’d ended up there. He looks so big in your shoebox of an apartment, and if you’re being honest, maybe there’s a little bit of lust tied up with your desire to mother this man.

You offer him a welcoming smile, and for a moment, you swear he looks like he’s drowning.

“Glad you could make it,” you say somewhat teasingly.

“Can I…help?” He says the last word like it’s a completely alien thing to him.

“I’ve pretty much got it under control…” you say, which is mostly true. You peruse the sparse offerings of your 3 slot wine rack, picking a $6 bottle of Chilean red blend. “Want to open this?” The face he makes looking down at the decidedly weaker-than-whiskey beverage is almost comical, but he takes the corkscrew from you as you transfer the meal to serving bowls and put glasses of water on the table.

He removes his suit jacket at the table, rolling his sleeves up over muscular forearms that are, if you’re being honest, totally distracting. After you sit down you fill your plates, and the first few minutes of the meal goes by in semi-awkward silence.

Surprisingly, it’s John who speaks first. “This is really good,” he admits begrudgingly, and you utterly fail to damper your I-told-you-so smile.

“Thanks.”

You make halting small talk. You get the feeling he doesn’t chat much with anyone, of his own free will. When you ask him how his week was, his simple answer is, “Hell.”

You have no idea he’s being literal.

You ask him what he does, and he tells you he’s a sort of private detective, and he can’t really talk about it. He asks what you do, more to get the conversation off of him than anything. You let it go, for now, telling him that you’re a receptionist at an office building for a mega corporation downtown.

“Fitting,” he grumbles, you think because of your innate cheerfulness.

You feel the urge to tell him that half the time it’s just a thing you wear like armor—but you don’t know each other that well yet.

As you loosen up a little with food and more wine, he slowly asks more questions about you, where you’re from, what do you do in your free time, and maybe it’s stupid, but you feel like he’s actually kind of interested in your answers.

You enlist him to help you with the dishes, and as you stand together at the sink you bump him playfully with your hip. He peers down at you, his dark hair in his eyes. He is so tall, and there is a hint of a smile on his lips now. For him, it’s like a full-on toothy grin, and it doesn’t fail to quicken your heart in your chest.

Constantine can’t help but feel…puzzled, by you. Yes, you’re his cute neighbor, who teasingly likes to hail him in the hallway. And maybe he does look forward to the way your eyes sparkle, when he begrudgingly acknowledges you before retreating to the safety of the quiet solitude of his apartment. But you are so…nice. He can just tell, and he has no idea what a girl like you might want with a degenerate demon hunter like him. There are enough assholes in L.A. who would be happy to take you out. Why would you waste your time chasing him down?

And there is that smaller nagging voice in the back of his head. You are damned, and you don’t deserve her.

Fuck if it doesn’t make him want to touch you even more.

Later, he will look back on this as a moment of weakness. You, looking up at him with your big eyes, like you're old friends. You made him feel, for a fleeting moment, like he wasn't some doomed asshole with nothing to live for. Like he was an actual person. A man who could matter, to someone. Maybe even to you.

When you splash him with a flick of dishwater after he insults your favorite TV show he narrows his eyes down at you, and you get the fluttery feeling that he might like to eat you a moment before he cups your cheek in his big hand and catches your lips in a kiss. It’s everything you’d hoped for, even if you never actually expected it to really happen. Maybe the wine helped? Or maybe…he likes you? Luckily you get over your surprise, standing on tiptoe to meet him, looping your arms around his neck.

You yip with surprise when suddenly he lifts you to sit on the sink, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. “Was getting a crick in my neck…”

Your answering laugh is shaky at best. “Sorry.”

“Is this why you invited me over?”

“Sort of?”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, waiting for further explanation. You reach up to toy with his collar, tracing the line of his loosened tie, totally distracted by the shape of his collarbone and what’s bared of his neck. This man has a jawline that looks like it was sculpted from stone. There’s no shortage of beautiful people in L.A., of course, but you’ve never met anyone quite like him. He doesn’t seem vain, an oddity in this town, but underneath his rumpled suit this man definitely has the physique of a movie star. You try not to dwell on how odd it is, that he would choose to spend his Friday night with you.

“I mean, I’m definitely not complaining,” you offer with a sly little smile.

However, his answering expression is nothing less than stern.

“I’m warning you now, sweetheart. I’m not boyfriend material, and I’m not going to be your project.”

Even if both of those things may have crossed your mind, your thoughts are too hazy with lust from his lips on yours. Maybe he’s a grouch…but he’s a great kisser.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

He kisses you again, and you melt even more under his exacting touch. Those mitts for hands make you feel small, and you arch against him as they travel the ladder of your ribcage to your spine.

The wine was good, but you know you are mostly drunk on him.

Then he is lifting you again, like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the couch. You settle down into the worn vintage cushions and make-out like teenagers, all lips and teeth and pawing hands.

You’re the one who actually initiates something further, pulling off your shirt, and John blinks as he takes in the swathes of your bare skin. He glares at your lacy bra like it owes him money, and you can’t help but laugh breathily. You haven’t felt thishappy in a long time, truth be told.

“Something funny?” he asks, nipping at your neck. With a flick of his fingers your bra falls away, and your breasts are in his hands, and you forget how to speak intelligibly. With his lips on your nipples you manage to loosen his tie without strangling him, unbuttoning his shirt with an increasing desperation. You sigh when at last the bare skin of your torsos is pressed together, his weight pressing you down into the couch.

It occurs to you, how small your couch is, and this man is definitely over six feet tall. “Would you prefer…the bed?” you ask between kisses.

“Up to you.”

You nod, but find you can’t really stop kissing him long enough to move. You can feel the impressive length of him through his pants and yours, aligned with your center and you dry grind, thinking even that is wonderful. He, however, lets out a frustrated growl, and pulls you to your feet again.

Dizzy with desire, you lead him by the hand to your bedroom, and you make it there eventually between kisses and shedding the rest of your clothing. His thick fingers between your legs are a marvel. “So fucking wet for me,” he groans, and it’s too embarrassing to admit, but sometimes after seeing him in the hallway you’ve fantasized about something like this going down, and it always leaves you soaked.

“I…like you,” you admit, moaning as a second finger finds its way inside you, his thumb circling your clit.

“I still don’t get that,” he admits, but kisses you hard before you really have a chance to answer. It would be a little too crazy, to tell him right now that you’ve always just felt pulled towards him, like the Universe was giving you a nudge any time you saw him. He’d laugh at you, or he’d leave, and either of those at this point would be unbearable.

You are close already under his masterful touch, and you whine even as you flex your hips, all your muscles tightening in anticipation.

“Don’t make me cum yet,” you beg. “I want you.”

He groans in response to that, desperately pawing through the pockets of his pants on the floor for a condom. You watch with stars in your eyes, propped on your elbows as he rips open the packet and rolls it on that impressive length, your lip between your teeth. You feel empty while looking at him like this, longing to be filled to the brim.

There is a moment of raw eye contact between you that sears your soul, as he pulls you to the edge of the bed with those large hands on your thighs. For a fleeting second he looks almost vulnerable. It’s there and gone like a ripple in a pool, then his thick tip is at your entrance, and he is slowly pushing himself inside you.

It’s better than you ever dreamed, and you arch against him, moaning as he works inside.

“Fuck you are tight,” he pants in your ear, your walls clenching around him, seeming to fight him even as they crave the relief of his big cock stretching you out. You breathe deeply, easing him in. When at last he bottoms out inside you, your head rocks back behind your shoulders, blissed out.

“God, you feel good.”

This man actually snorts at the comment, though his voice is pure gravel, rough with need. “He wouldn't appreciate you saying it about me.”

Your laugh is half moan.

“What, are you on a first name basis?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

You're not sure what to make of that, and you're too cock drunk to even begin to reason it out.

He can tell you're a nice girl. Or at least, that's his perception of you. So he doesn’t bend you at impossible angles or whisper filthy things in your ear. Really, there's no time for it. Just pure vanilla missionary in your sweet little snatch is more than enough to slake his need tonight. He fucks you on your back, his thumb on your clit as he glides in and out of your tight little pussy, your legs wrapped around his narrow hips.

Your pleasure builds in the cradle of your hips, wound so tight you feel like you'll either die, or fly. Usually...alright, it's never like this for you the first time with someone. There's always fumbling, and awkwardness, and half the time, if you're honest, a faked orgasm because you're too shy or too embarrassed to ask for what you really need from a new partner, afraid he’ll think you’re too much trouble.

Well, that is not what is happening tonight. Tonight, John is taking care of you, and you can hardly believe your luck.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

“Yeah.” Your reply is breathy, and you almost laugh just for the pure, unexpected joy you feel in that moment. “Oh, John...” Your ability to say real words escapes you as your body erupts with scintillating pleasure spreading through your loins. You actually scream, and the fierce clench of your cunt around him brings him too. He loses himself with a groan, his face buried in the curve of your shoulder as he shudders against you.

Afterwards, you are laying against his broad chest, his heartbeat a steady drum in your ear. You don't know it, but this is not something John Constantine usually does. Snuggling. But you are sweet and soft in his arms, and he can't quite bring himself to vacate the premises just yet. In fact, he's so comfortable that he dozes, and you follow close behind him.

In the middle of the night you wake to kisses on your neck and caresses down your curvy side. You sigh, arching into him. You feel his manhood at the seam of your buttocks, his thick head kissing your hole.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he whispers with a shuddering sigh, rolling over to reach for his pants again. How many condoms did he bring? The fact that he's not careless with you, even in the sleepy haze of the early morning second round, is incredibly endearing to you. How many times have you had to insist, and been made to feel like an uncool bitch for not wanting to risk pregnancy or disease in the heat of the moment?

Maybe it's utterly insane, but you're half in love already as he hauls you on top of him, his cock freshly capped with a new Trojan Magnum.

You are still drenched from earlier, and it's no problem to impale yourself upon him.

In the blue dark of early morning your eyes meet his, and again you sense that fleeting vulnerability before he distracts you with that clever fucking thumb finding your sensitive bud. He works you just right as you ride his beautiful dick with your back arched taut as a bow, his other hand toying with your nipple. It makes you cum in record time, so quickly it's almost embarrassing, though he doesn’t seem to mind. Within a minute he's followed along with you, his big hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he reaches his own release. Your name on his lips raises gooseflesh all over your body, as though your lovemaking has invoked something powerful, something binding.

You collapse against his chest, and the both of you nearly fall asleep again, with him still inside you.

“Let me get this thing off,” he requests gently, and with a plaintive little groan you roll off of him, curling in at his side. He knots the condom before throwing it in the general direction of the bin. You are both too tired to care if it actually hit home.

Again, you snuggle close and the two of you doze tangled together until morning light streams through the window.

You wake to kisses on your forehead this time. It's a miracle you rouse. You're a heavy sleeper—and he worked you out.

“I have to go, honey.”

“Want breakfast?” you murmur, half asleep.

“Yeah, but I can’t. Rain check?”

“Okay.”

Through half lidded eyes you watch as he gets dressed, half way, at least. A good portion of his clothes are still strewn around the living room.

My god, what a beautiful specimen of manhood you bagged last night. Nonna would be proud. She was an appreciator of male beauty, and if you told her that her special recipe had gotten you the best sex of your life with the handsome boy next door she would have cackled with delight.

“See you soon?” you dare ask as he buttons his pants.

“Yeah,” he agrees, after a pause, bending down to kiss you one more time, with tongue this round.

“Careful mister, or you'll start round three.”

“Jesus, woman,” he teases with that heartbreaking almost-smile. “You've drained me dry.”

You look him over appraisingly.

“Doubt it.”

He huffs with laughter, shaking his head.

“Bye, y/n.”

You sigh.

“Bye, John.”

With a surprisingly heavy heart, you watch the best lay of your life slip out the door. You really hope you'll get to do this again, and not just go back to awkward acknowledgements in the hallway.

***

Maybe John Constantine had told you he’s not boyfriend material.

But earlier that day, while he was having a smoke out on the sidewalk, he found himself looking over at the wares of a flower vendor and wondering if you would like them. He didn’t buy any, of course.

He wasn’t a total sap.

But it’s possible as he scales the stairs to his apartment, there’s a lightness in his heart as he thinks of you, and the possibility of seeing you in the hallway.

That's when he finds your door ajar, and your apartment ransacked, and a note in red ink on the table addressed to him.

If you want to see your girlfriend alive again, come to this address.

It’s a place in L.A. that’s deep in vampire territory, and something black and heavy weighs like a stone in the pit of John’s stomach. He’d deported a few big players of the local coven not too long ago, and he’d figured the Master would want revenge, but this?

Fucking diabolical—and just their style.

Goddamn vampires.

Without a moment to lose, he goes to his apartment to get his kit, praying he’s not too late to save you.

#constantine 2005 #constantine #constantine x you #constantine x reader #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x you #john constantine #constantine x y/n #constantine fic #constantine imagine #constantine fanfic #the girl next door constantine x reader fic

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theemporium · 1 year

Note

Heyyyy, love all your works i’ve read so far, and i am still scrolling through your feed.

I wanted to request a Daniel x sunshine, where they have pregnancy scare, and daniel wasn’t in a right mood so he kind of had a bad reaction but then they end up alright because he apologises and tells sunshine how it was all because he had a bad day.

Thank youuuuu, take care💚

whoops this is a bit of a long one but thank you!! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

To be frank, Daniel had a shit day.

He had been dragged into the factory at an ungodly hour—far earlier than he was meant to be—and it started off his day in a grouchy mood. The meeting seemed pointless in his opinion, but he was still forced to sit through it regardless and fight the urge to doze off.

Then, it had been a day jam-packed full of media duties and sponsorship promotions that he was in no mood for. Everybody had their off days, even Daniel Ricciardo and the people on set could tell. Unfortunately, there was a deadline to be met and they couldn’t keep putting the filming off.

And to top everything off, you had been blowing his phone up all morning, forcing him to turn it off for the rest of the day when the team started to get a bit irritated at the constant interruption.

By the time he headed back to your shared apartment, he was downright exhausted, hungry and in desperate need to just sit on the couch for five minutes before he did anything. He expected you would either be in your office working, or in the kitchen whipping something up for the two of you.

He was surprised to find neither of those options.

Instead, you were pacing around the living room, lost in your own world as you muttered away to yourself. Your head snapped up when he shut the door behind him, your eyes wide like you were a deer caught in headlights. He waited for you to saunter over, press a kiss on his lips as you greeted him like you usually did.

But you just stood there.

“Can we talk?” you eventually blurted out, and a part of him sensed the heaviness in your voice. He knew it wasn’t going to be some silly story, and he didn’t think he had it in him to have the conversation right that second.

“Baby, I just walked through the door, at least let me shower,” he sighed as he shuffled further into the apartment, dropping his backpack near the door before he shrugged his shoes off and placed them beside the others.

“Danny, please—” you started but the exhaustion within him finally snapped, hitting the last dregs of his patience.

“Please, I’ve had a long fucking day at work, I don’t need to hear whatever you’ve been nagging me all day about right this second,” he muttered, his words a little harsher than even he intended. “Just please, give me like thirty minutes alone.”

You blinked before clearing your throat, your eyes instantly looking anywhere but him. He felt a twinge of guilt rush through him.

“Baby—”

But you just shook your head, making your way past him and towards the door as you shoved your feet into the first pair of shoes you could find. “It’s fine, I needed to get something from the shops anyways.”

Daniel sighed. “Sunshine—”

But you were already out the door.

Daniel ran his hands over his face, letting out a small groan before he started making his way deeper into the house. He would make it up to you once you returned, he would make sure of that. But right now, he needed a hot shower and a change of clothes, and maybe some food to help him feel a little more human.

However, when his hand reached out to flip the bathroom switch, the last thing he expected to see when the lights turned on was the plastic stick lying on the counter.

His blood ran cold.

He knew exactly what it was and he didn’t need to step any closer to know. It was a pregnancy test. You had done a pregnancy test. And then, just when he thought he could breathe again, everything started clicking in place.

The phone calls throughout the day. The messages that went unanswered on his side. The sketchy behaviour when he walked through the door and the insistence to have a chat.

You wanted to tell him you were pregnant—with his child—and he had snapped at you.

Daniel swore he could have thrown up there and then as he quickly exited the bathroom, his mind whirling with a million different thoughts as he made his way to the living room. He sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the door as the seconds ticked by like hours as he waited, as he waited for you to come back home, as he waited to say a thousand and more apologies the second you stepped a foot into the threshold of your shared apartment.

When you turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, the last thing you expected was to be ambushed by your boyfriend into a tight hug that almost made you drop the tub of ice cream you bought.

“Danny—”

“I’m sorry,” his words came out slightly muffled. He then lifted his head, his expression wary and his eyes glossy with tears as he continued. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have never snapped at you and I should have answered your calls—”

You gave him a sad smile. “Babe, it’s fine—”

“No, no, it’s not,” Daniel said with a shake of his head as he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m gonna be there for you, you hear me? I might have been a jerk earlier but that’s gone now. I’m gonna be here for you, to do whatever you need. I’m gonna be here for you and our baby and—”

“Daniel,” you repeated, gripping his wrists to catch his attention. “I’m not pregnant.”

He shook his head. “Sunshine, you don’t have to lie, I saw the test—”

“It’s negative.”

He blinked, feeling as though the air had been wiped out of him. “What?”

“It came back negative,” you told him, letting out a shaky breath. “I’d been feeling shit the last few days and realised that I was late. I started freaking out and panicking, and I tried calling you on the off chance that you’d be able to come back home.”

Daniel’s eyes softened. “Sunshine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered with a sheepish smile. “I was shaking so much, I couldn’t even drive to the shops. I walked, bought the tests and a litre of water and just…chugged it on the way back.”

His thumbs gently caressed the apple of your cheek.

“Those three minutes were the scariest three minutes of my life,” you confessed to your boyfriend, swallowing back the emotions you felt in the back of your throat. “I mean, I don’t even know if I’m ready to be a mother and I just—”

Daniel waited.

“I just wanted you there,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you close and tight into his chest. It was the comfort you had been seeking all day. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you, and I’m sorry for being a jerk earlier.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered. “You were stressed.”

“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Daniel retorted and pulled back so he could look at you again. “One day, I hope you will be the mother of my children, and I hope I will be by your side when we find out.”

Your lips twitched. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grinned softly. “I’m in it for the long run, Sunshine.”

“Me too, Ricciardo,” you whispered before giving him a teasing smile. “Even if you’re a jerk sometimes.”

He laughed softly. “I’ll make it up to you, Sunshine, promise.”

But you just smiled. “I know you will.”

#daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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animeniacss · 4 months

Note

Heya!

I just read your imagine about Wonwoo and became an emotional wreck 😭

Could you please write something angsty about Mingyu? Like maybe a failed arranged marriage...

Would love it if you could cook something up with the suggestion.

Thank you 💜

OMG so sorry it took so long! I hope you like what I have! It was fun to write! <3

Synopsis: It's your wedding day, and you remember the memories of how you were arranged to marry and fall in love with Kim Mingyu

Tags: NonIdol!AU, Marriage, Angst, Flasbacks, Arranged Marriage,

Length: approx. 3.8k words

Mingyu x Reader - Down the Aisle

“What do you think our wedding will be like, Mingyu?”

“Hm….something extravagant…something beautiful. Just like you.”

“You look so beautiful.” The female voice behind you made you open your eyes, staring into the lush vanity before you—the plush of the robe you had on pressed against your body, tickling your skin. In your hair, a brush offers a similar sensation through your scalp.

“Thanks, Jihyo,” you said softly. A moment of silence before you said. “I cannot believe that today’s the day….” your voice was soft.

“I know! It feels like yesterday you were going to meet him for dinner and now you’re getting married!” Jihyo’s grin made your heart thump in your chest.

“I know.” You watched Jihyo tug your hair into a tight updo, grabbing bobby pins to keep the hair in place. You licked your lips, watching as some strands of hair fell from your face. A quick brush of your fingers and the hair was tucked behind your ear.

“You have a hair falling from your ponytail. May I?” You watched with shaky eyes as a large hand reached across the table, tucking your hair behind your ear. You looked up at a humored lopsided grin, and a hand ran through his hair as he leaned back in his chair. “There. Perfect.”

You watched Jihyo take the piece of hair and tangle it into your updo, a bobby pin added to keep it in place. When she smiled you realized then your expression had been pretty neutral. Your lips quirked up in a smile.

“Nervous?”

“No,” you said, almost too quickly. Jihyo’s hands stopped in your hair. “...No.”

“Good, don’t be! What’s he gonna do, get cold feet? Arranged marriage or not he’s totally in love with you.” That comment made the smile on your lips soften just a bit, and you watched Jihyo head over to the side of the vanity, pulling out makeup. You turned in your chair, a fond smile on your face. Jihyo was giddy about this morning’s festivities. Being a part of something so wonderful, so memorable. It made any worries you did have quell.

Two hours left until you walked down the aisle.

—----------------------

“This is Kim Mingyu. His father owns L&S Entertainment in Seoul! We’ve been talking for a few months and we were hoping the two of you hit it off today!”

You thought your mother was crazy at the time, staring across the table at the broad-shouldered man in the navy blue suit with slicked-back hair. Apart from polite greetings, you’d yet to say two words to the man across the table - Kim Mingyu, you made a note to remember that - yet your parents were talking as if the wedding were mere days away. It was sudden, but not surprising. You were 17 then, and you knew this was coming almost as soon as the end of your academic career was. Your hands kept themselves busy by pushing food around your plate with a fork.

As you put a forkful to your lips, Mingyu leaned over in his chair, catching your attention with a hum and a quick call of your name. When you looked over, he smiled grinning, lopsided and nervous.

“I didn’t know about this until this morning,” he admitted. You blinked a few times, swallowing your bite before breaking into an amused grin.

“I didn’t know until my mother opened her mouth.” And Mingyu threw his head back to laugh, loud but warm in the way it hit your ears. He chuckled, sticking his hand out.

“This might not be so bad.” he stuck his hand out. “Let’s make the best of it for now, yeah?” You nodded, sticking your hand out as the both of you shook on it.

For now. Those two words never felt like they meant so little.

You felt your thoughts slip through your body as Jihyo tugged the corset of the back of your dress, gasping as you pressed your hands against the side of the bed. “Ah, Jesus.” you groaned. “I hate this. Why did I pick this dress?!”

“Because you look beautiful!” She laughed. “Besides, I’m almost done!” A few more tugs, a few more grunts, and Jihyo let out a hum of approval. “Nice job if I do say so myself. You look stunning.”

Turning your gaze to the full-length mirror on the side of the bed, you looked yourself over. Your dress was stunning, your breath would be taken from you if the corset was not already at work squishing your insides. Hands pressed against the corsetted bodice, running them along your sides as if to convince yourself that what you were seeing right now was real. It was happening.

“Your parents are already suggesting wedding dresses?” Mingyu’s eyes widened as he looked up from his textbook. You sighed, flipping lazily through your own, exhaustion on your features.

“They’re very excited.” You smiled.

“Are you not?” Mingyu pouted, and you covered your mouth to laugh.

“We’ve known about this for what? A month.”

“A month and three days,” Mingyu added, and you snorted. Mingyu giggled in amusement. “But no, that’s crazy. Is there anything I can do to make it a bit easier?” You shook your head.

“Nah. It’s bound to arrive sooner or later.” You lifted your pencil from the table one more time, eyes flicking down to look at your assignment once again. Mingyu seemed to stare at you from across the table, and you brought your eyes to his gaze one more time. “You okay?”

“Sorry,” he said.

Confusion came in the form of a furrowed brow and a tilt of your head. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagine when you think of your wedding and dress shopping and planning.”

“No, but I knew it would be something similar.” you smiled. “Besides, at least I’m marrying someone nice, like you.” Mingyu smiled, cheeks tinting pink. “Someone I tolerate, y’know?”

“Oh, thanks.” He snorted, covering his mouth with his hands.

Your name was called to the door, seeing it open and your mother stepped in. Within seconds she was tearing up. “Oh my God, you look beautiful. Just as I knew you would!” You smiled, watching as your mother pulled you into a gentle hug, careful not to wrinkle your dress or mess up your hair. She pulled away, scanning your silhouette as she wiped her eyes.

“Mom, please don’t cry,” you begged behind a small chuckle, fondness thumping in your chest.

“I know.” she sniffled. “I just…after everything we’ve gone through to get to this day it’s amazing it’s finally here. I’m just so happy for you.”

Another small chuckle, fondness morphing into something much harder to read. A small smile played on your lips as you held your mother's hands. She immediately pulled them up and kissed them. You turned to yourself in the mirror again, your mother slipping behind you. You felt your fingers curl into the fabric of your dress as hard as you could without ripping the expensive material. Your mother looked you over through the mirror as well, her own hands coming up to brush some stray hairs off your face and make sure nothing was lingering on your dress from its packaging. “I’m so proud of you, honey….”

“I didn’t do anything,” you whispered.

“You did enough. You’ve done a lot for this family, you’ve been a trooper….” You inhaled a shaky breath, offering a small smile as your mother ran a hand along your arms. “The guests are starting to arrive. I’ll go see if the photographer is ready.” With a gentle kiss on your cheek, your mother waved off Jihyo before exiting the room and closing the door behind her. You heard Jihyo messing around with some of the cleanup in the room, leaving you to your thoughts for a few minutes as you stared at yourself. Hair up, dress corseted, make-up done. Something sparkled, and when you looked down, you admired the rock sitting prettily on your ring finger. The wedding band encircling the actual ring sparkled almost as bright as the main diamond, decorated with beautiful stones and silver plating. It was a dream to have a ring like that sitting on your finger. A small smile formed on your lips.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of ring you’d like,” Mingyu said, turning his attention to you on the couch. You glance up at him, chopsticks stopping in midair with noodles hanging from them, dangling over your take-out box. The sight made Mingyu snort. “My father told me I could use an old family ring but I thought that was cheesy.”

Quickly, you slurped up your noodles and set the chopsticks down, turning your attention to him fully. “I think that’s kind of romantic, actually…”

“You do?” His eyes went wide. “Shit, I need to call my dad.” You watched, humor in your eyes as Mingyu scrambled for his phone.

“Mingyu,” you said. When he turned his head, you lifted your hand, wiggling your fingers in his direction. “You get me whatever you think will look best. I have to wear it forever, after all.” Mingyu took your hand, pulling it closer to place a gentle kiss on the knuckles. Fondness filled your eyes as Mingyu set your hand back down, rubbing his thumb over the temporarily empty ring finger.

“Then I’ll make sure it’s perfect for you and only you. Promise.”

“You ready?” Jihyo asked, pulling your attention back to your friend. She was fixing her earrings in the mirror, hair blown out and settling nicely around her shoulders. She looked beautiful, smiling in excitement for the event waiting just downstairs.

You felt your lips tug into a smile; what felt like two pins pressing into your cheeks to attempt to keep it there for the evening. “Yes,” you said. “I’m ready.”

—------------------------

“Mingyu, how do I look?” you asked, turning to him. Mingyu peeked up from his phone, smiling as he saw you walk over to the ornate, plush couch sitting in the middle of the large room. A photographer was standing across the room, setting up his camera. The taller male smiled warmly as you took your seat beside him, draping his arm over your shoulder.

“Beautiful.” He said. “Do you have lots of make-up on?” When he saw you nod, he nodded, offering you a kiss through the air to not smear it. You covered your mouth to hide your laugh.

“Oh God, you’re such a dork!” you said, slapping his knee. The sound of your mother stepping into view beside the cameraman made you both look up.

“Ready? We need to have these wedding invitations ready by the end of the week to send out.” she smiled, but you saw her eyes dart over her shoulder when Mingyu’s parents approached, pulling her attention. The photographer set himself up with his camera. With a nod of confirmation from both of you, he immediately got to work.

“Scoot together.” *Click* “Mingyu, sit up straighter.” *Click click*. “Stand up behind her with your hand on her shoulder.” *Click*

For thirty minutes you and Mingyu moved around the chair and its surrounding area like dolls, giggling and laughing as the photographer put you both in various poses.

“This is a bit ridiculous,” you said. “All this for one photo?”

“It’s kind of fun,” Mingyu responded. “I feel like a celebrity.”

“You’re the son of an entertainment company owner. You already are a celebrity.” Mingyu laughed a bit, leaning back in the chair and draping his arm over the back of it. You scooted closer, resting back as well and taking a deep breath. “I can’t believe it’s happening in less than four months.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s going to be amazing.”

“You think so?” You glanced up at him. Mingyu nodded. As the two of you took some time to relax while the photographer prepared the next round of photos, your eyes looked up in the direction of your parents. Your mother's back was to you, but it didn’t take a genius to notice she was tense. Something was on her mind as she spoke to Mingyu’s parents, her arms darting every which way as she continued to speak.

You just barely registered her piercing glance back to the scene before the photographer snapped another picture.

*Click*

The photographer was already snapping pictures as you headed down the steps from your room. Your family was already at the bottom, watching with tears in their eyes. You gripped your bouquet in your hands, each step a bit more hesitant than the last as you got closer to the bottom. Your eyes immediately fell to the closed double doors on your left when you had a second. The chatter of guests muffled the door making them sound more like buzzing bees than party guests.

“Alright, everything is ready.” your mother grinned. “Are you excited? Oh, I’m gonna cry…” she wiped her eyes with a napkin she pulled perfectly out of her sleeve. “We’ll see you in there, alright?” You nodded, waving your mother and Jihyo off as they went into the room with the photographer. You inhaled, feeling your father come to your side and offer his arm. As you stared ahead at the door, you saw a black suit being fixed, a hand running through black hair, and a familiar smile. You inhaled deeply.

“Everything is ready,” you said. The sound of music was heard through the doors, and they opened once again, allowing you and your father to head down the aisle. Immediately, the guests turned towards you, smiling at the beautiful bride as she floated down the aisle. Your eyes darted through the friends and family, smiling warmly and nodding your head as they gasped and waved you off. When you turned your head, you saw him, smiling his familiar lopsided grin in your direction.

“I’m so lucky I get to be the person marrying you. I never thought an arranged marriage would work out for me this way.”

“I love you so much!”

Kim Mingyu.

Standing at the end of the farthest pew in the building.

“Your engagement to Kim Mingyu is off!”

When the both of you locked eyes, even for a brief second, you saw his breath hitch, his eyes taking in your entire form. Time felt like it stopped in that moment, the both of you locked in on one another.

“Mom!”

“He and his entire family are nothing more than backstabbing narcissists! I was wrong about them the entire time. I should have known entertainment moguls would try to pull a fast one on us!”

“Mom, you’re not making any sense.”

“I already told them. The engagement’s off..”

“It’s in three months!”

“I don’t care!” She said. “No child of mine will be married to a son who will grow up to be exactly like their selfish parents!”

When your father tugged at your arm gently, you turned your head back to him. You could see the gentle, almost sympathetic look in his eyes. He leaned to the side, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead in hopes of easing your mind.

You had tried desperately to change your mother's mind at first. Then, you tried to see Mingyu despite your mother’s refusal. Despite his parent's attempts to keep the two of you apart. The two of them said it was over between you.

You were halfway down the aisle when you finally allowed yourself to look forward. A sharp sting was felt behind your eyes, but you managed to blink it away because you heard the photographer snapping pictures and you knew damn well you’d never allow him to catch you with runny mascara. With one deep breath, you gripped your bouquet and finally took a good look at the groom waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

“Honey, I’d like you to meet Lee Jihoon.” Your mother said over a similar dining table, motioning to the well-dressed and handsome male across from you. He ran a hand through his hair, offering you a polite smile. You could see the nerves in his eyes.

You were 21 now. Halfway through college, preparing to work for your mother, and still with no husband. Until now.

“His father runs the Lee Tech Company. We’ve been in contact for a few months and we’re hoping the two of you hit it off.”

You offered Jihoon a smile, eyes flicking down to your plate as you moved the food around with your fork. Your mother talked family with the Lee family, and you felt a disgustingly intense sense of deja vu. Especially when Jihoon leaned over and smiled, a gentleness in his eyes that worked to ease your nerves.

“I heard about what happened…” he said softly. “I’m sorry. My parents told me I had to at least come and meet you.” You offered a polite chuckle. “If you’re uncomfortable I can tell them-.”

“No.” You said softly. “No, it’s okay,” you said softly. “It’s…it is what it is.” Jihoon frowned a bit as he watched you take a forkful of food into your lips. You looked at him. “Even if I wanted to try and get back with him….He’s been put in another marriage….I think of an actress from his father’s company.”

Jihoon hissed, which made you cover your mouth to laugh. “Ah, I’m sorry!”

“No. It’s okay…” you said again. As your parents directed your attention back to them, you offered one more look at Jihoon before wondering if this one would end similarly to Mingyu’s. Loved and lost in six months.

That didn’t happen, and you found yourself standing in front of Jihoon, who fixed his suit and offered you a kind smile. When you looked at the man to your right, he offered you a smile, squeezing your hand in reassurance. It worked for a few seconds before the priest started talking and you zoned out the entire wedding.

—--------------

The party was just as lavish as the wedding, in the same building, decorated to the nines. You and Jihoon were put in the center, at a long table overlooking the dance floor and the guests surrounding you. Your eyes must have been darting left and right because Jihoon gently put a hand on your shoulder.

“Looking for someone?” he asked, a small smile on his face. You looked over at him, not needing to respond for him to know the answer. “I saw him go outside after we left the other room.”

“I see,” you said. Your eyes fluttered back to the tables where guests were mingling and drinking, happy in the union they got to witness. Jihoon leaned back in his chair.

“I’m-.”

“Don’t,” you said, finally offering a gentle smile. “It’s okay. You know that.” Jihoon’s eyes flickered in uncertainty, but you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “We should be celebrating. Let me get some fresh air, then let’s dance or something.”

Jihoon laughed a bit, sipping his drink and nodding. “I’ll be looking forward to watching you make a complete fool of yourself.” he teased. You scoffed, standing up and smoothing out your dress.

“I’ll have you know I bought my dress specifically to dance in,” you said. Jihoon laughed.

“Aren’t you corseted?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as he scanned your dress. You waved him off as you headed out the back doors, towards the balcony.

You rested against the balcony of the back patio, staring up at the sky. You could hear the muffled party through the glass doors, and you sighed, resting your chin in your hand. It wasn’t supposed to be this way….it just wasn’t.

It took a few seconds of being lost in thought for you to hear your name being called, and when you turned, you saw Mingyu resting against the door, even glowing in the moonlight. He smiled sweetly. “You look really beautiful.”

“Thank you…” you said softly. You watched him approach you, hands in your pockets. He stopped just beside one of the patio tables, keeping a comfortable distance between you. “I can’t stay too long but…I wanted to make sure I saw you.”

You looked up at the other and felt a genuine smile form on your lips. “Thank you. I’m glad you came. I didn’t think you would.”

“Jihoon-hyung told me I should,” he said. “At first I thought he was trying to rub it in my face but he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. I think he knew it’d mean a lot to you.”

“It does.” You said gently. A moment of silence fell between you and you shifted in your spot, rubbing your hands together. Mingyu put his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Mingyu looked at you, smiling a bit. “I’m sorry for my mother and…everything that happened….I could have done more.”

“I could have too,” he said gently. “But we were young…we were only 18..”

“I know,” you said softly. “And Jihoon is great but….you should be there with me.” Mingyu smiled a hint of sadness in the way his lips turned up.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered.

“It’s true.” You said quickly. Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. The silence returned, thicker this time. “I’m sorry…” you said again. Mingyu only nodded this time. “I hope…that down the line…we can work together without any arguments. Whatever happened to our parents has nothing to do with us.”

“I agree,” he assured. “I look forward to working with you.” he stuck his hand out. You hesitated, but took his hand and shook it. Mingyu hesitated, lifting your hand and placing a gentle kiss on the knuckles. You saw his eyes flash towards the ring on your finger and smiled. “That’s beautiful. Jihoon-hyung did a great job picking it out.”

You nodded, your hand dropping from his hold though the touch still lingered. “Thank you.” You said softly. “...I love you.” You said. “I always will. And I wish things could be different.”

“...I love you too,” he assured. Mingyu smiled, waving you off before heading off the patio, down the steps, and seemingly out to the front of the venue. You watched him for a few seconds, craning your neck to see if you could see him again.

The door to the party flung open, and your mother smiled in your direction. “Come on honey! You can’t miss your wedding! We’re about to do the cake!” A pause and her smile dropped a bit. “Are you okay?”

You hesitated. “Yeah Mom, I’m coming,” you said, before following her inside and closing the door. As you were led to the cake, you saw Jihoon fixing his tie while he waited. He smiled as you came to his side, offering you the cutting knife. As the party turned their attention to the both of you, you looked back out towards the balcony, now empty. You gripped the cutting knife, the knuckles Mingyu kissed turning white.

“What kind of wedding do you think we’ll have, Mingyu?”

“Did you see him?” Jihoon asked, making you look over. He glanced in your direction as you nodded.

“I did,” you said gently.

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gor3-hound · 8 months

Text

slice of heaven

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, religious themes, p in v, soft, fluffy sex and a little crying

a/n: i was gonna wait to post, but thought i’d drop this fic before uni starts up again so you guys could have a little something before my posting becomes more infrequent! hope you like it :)

word count: 1.1k words

“Are you sure you want this?” The words are whispered breathlessly against the skin of your neck, Leon's lips brushing you lightly, his grip strong on your waist. What he means to say is, are you sure you want me? But the words get caught in his throat. He can't ruin this moment. He doesn't want to scare you off. You nod softly, lips parted as your soft breaths fall from between them.

”Yeah… please.” You murmur, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access. A shudder of heat runs through Leon, his fingers tightening around you. He sucks marks into your skin, claiming you. A way to tell himself you’re really his. You’re not going to slip from his grasp and become lost. You won’t be another name on the list of the people that have left him. He wouldn’t survive it.

I’m not good enough for you. I’m a broken man. We can’t be together.

He forces that part of himself under wraps, ignoring the feelings you inspire within him. As gentle as possible, Leon lets his fingers drift away. I’ll hurt you. I’ll tear your life apart. I’m not capable of love.

He can’t keep his hands off of you for long. He’s never been able to. His palms slide up your arms as gently as he can manage before he cups your cheeks tenderly, tilting your face up to meet his. He holds you carefully, like you’ll break if his grip tightens even slightly. His eyes duck down to your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as he bends his head down slightly to meet your lips. You taste like everything he’s ever wanted. Like Heaven just opened its gates and bestowed its blessing upon him.

For the first time in his life, he can feel his heart pounding, his hands trembling, in a good way. You feel like everything he’s ever wanted. You’re so sweet, so… perfect. The only time his brain doesn’t try to eat him alive is when he’s with you. You make him forget. Nothing he’d ever do would be able to thank you enough for the brief reprieve you give him from his thoughts. Sometimes, he hopes the ground would open up and swallow him whole, put him six feet under where he belongs.

Maybe he belonged with you. Like this.

He pulls away hesitantly, afraid this is all a trick, that once more, his happiness had been snatched out from under him. But your lips curve into a smile, and your hand rests on his jaw. That tells him that this is real.

You are real.

”I love you.” He croaks out, his breathing shallow. He’s tearing up. God, is this what he’s come to? He’s already so pathetic that a simple kiss is enough to send him reeling. His thumb brushes the corner of your lip, the curve of it. All he wants is to make you happy, even if it means he’ll have to let you go. His innocence died years ago, ripped cruelly from his grasp before he had an opportunity to even appreciate it. You still have it - that light in your eyes. A sense of hope in this world.

He hopes that if he sticks close enough to you some of that will rub off on him. Make him whole again. He’d worship you gladly, spend hours on his knees buried between your thighs. He’s not good with words, but he’ll show you how much he loves you. How much he craves your presence.

“I love you, too.” God, your voice. It makes his knees weak. Those words alone feel like enough for him, like all his sins would have been forgiven. He didn’t deserve you, but you were here. With him. Maybe God was rewarding him for his years of suffering, the nightmares that still haunt him at night. His own tiny piece of Heaven, wrapped up in a pretty bow and presented right for him in his arms.

His lips meet yours again, more desperately this time. You kiss him back just as passionately, his tongue probing at your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth. His hands grip at your shirt, slowly tugging it off. It’s not long before the two of you are in a tangle of limbs, greedily tugging at each other’s clothes as you collapse onto the bed.

”Leon, please. Need you.” You pant, the sound of his name on your tongue is both torture and mercy all at once. Call out his name, and he’ll be baptised. Born anew, washed free of his sins. Never in his life has he found a more beautiful sound than how your lips say his name. If he could, he’d have it on a constant loop in his head. It drives him insane, festering in the depths of his mind. You’d cared your name into his heart, made a home for yourself in his head. He’d never be free of you, and he’s not sure he wants to be.

”I got you, honey.” He manages after a moment of just staring at you. He lines himself up carefully with your drippy hole, pushing himself inch by inch inside of you. He moves so slowly, his hands caressing your side as he continues to push until he’s buried fully inside your heat.

“Fuck, baby. So good.” He says quietly, his voice cracking. He grinds his hips against your momentarily, shuddering as he hears you moan. He pulls out and thrusts back in, a small sob leaving him. You’re so quick to comfort him, your hands on his cheeks, rubbing at his cheeks.

”God, ‘m so sorry. Just needed this, sweet girl. Needed to feel close to you.” He pants out, shaking slightly as he thrusts sloppily into your wet cunt. His hand slips down your stomach slowly, his palm resting below your belly button. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles into it.

”That good for you, baby?” He asks gently, his eyes finding yours as he increases the pace of his thrusts slightly. He’s not gonna last long this time. Not when he’s been away from his precious girl for so long. He smiles a little when you nod, increasing the pressure before angling his hips to hit your sweet spot with every thrust.

He relishes in the sounds of your moans, how sweet it sounds as you babble his name over and over again. He lets out a slight whimper at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock as you cum, your back arching as you gush all over him. He thrusts shallowly a few more times before he’s pulling out, cumming all over the inside of your thighs. He leans over to grab his shirt, wiping you off gently before chucking it to the side. He pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead and caressing your back gently.

When he dies, he doesn’t think he’ll go to Heaven. But that’s alright, ‘cause he’s found his own slice of it right here on earth.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #resident evil smut

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helloalycia · 8 months

Text

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

summary: when Jackie surprises you with a kiss, you're excited at the possibility of what it could mean, only to discover she's got back together with her boyfriend the next day.

warning/s: implied internalised homophobia i suppose?

author's note: and here’s the third and final part - i hope you liked this one, loved writing for jackie 🥰 i have amother jackie one done and another in the works bc apparently i was super inspired recently lol, and i’ve also got some other stuff in progress. But the next thing I post is gonna be an alycia debnam carey imagine (gotta stick to my roots haha)

one / two / masterlist / wattpad

I groaned inwardly as I looked all around the darkroom, my locker and my school bag for my lens cap, but I just couldn't seem to find it. That's when I wondered if it could be in the bleachers on the soccer pitch – maybe it fell out of my pocket when I was shooting recently.

Like the lazy girl I was, I went outside with tunnel vision, immediately searching the bleachers for my lens cap, but I still couldn't find it. As I paused, looking up for a moment to think, I realised someone was on the pitch, and upon closer inspection at the waving figure, I realised it was Jackie. Huh.

When I climbed down from the bleachers, she jogged over to me with a confused expression, but smiling nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly, a little sweaty from practice, and it was annoying because she still managed to look good.

"I lost my lens cap for my camera," I said with a sigh. "The last place I remember having it is here."

Her fingers played with her bottom lip as she glanced around. "Oh. That's annoying. Erm..."

"It's fine," I said, not wanting her to worry herself over it when it was my problem. "I'm just having a look around, but I don't think it's here. Might pick up a new one from the camera store. Anyway, what are you doing out here? Where's the team?"

At this, she rested her hands on her hips. "No practice on today, but I wanted to have some me time. Thought I'd put in some extra practice. I've finished now anyway."

I quirked a brow. "Isn't Shauna usually your lift? How you getting home?"

"Shauna is helping her parents with something," she said, before flashing me her signature smirk. "I was planning to flirt with some sophomores and get a ride."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Of course you were."

She winked playfully and, though I didn't doubt she could find some desperate sophomore to give her a ride, I couldn't just let her do that. Besides, it seemed she was getting lifts off me a lot lately, so what was one more to add to the list?

"I'm done in the dark room if you need a ride," I offered.

"Oh, I wasn't hinting at anything," she said, giving me a genuine smile, but I shook my head.

"I know, but still. I don't mind."

Appreciative, she nodded. "Thanks. Do I have time to shower?"

"You have all the time in world, darling," I said as I looked around. "I am still yet to find my lens cap."

She stifled a chuckle. "Good luck with that. I'll go clean up. Meet you at your car?"

I hummed in agreement, already mentally retracing my steps with my camera, and she left me to it. After spending half an hour more searching all around for my lens cap, I finally gave up and went to sulk in my car. It wasn't actually a big deal, especially because I could just buy a new one after dropping Jackie off, but it was the inconvenience of it all.

Not long after I got in my car, Jackie joined me, tossing her backpack in the backseat before sliding into the passenger's seat. Looking refreshed, she shot me a smile.

"So, where to?" she asked, pulling her seatbelt on.

"Your house?" I replied, thinking it was obvious.

"But I thought you wanted to get your lens cap from the store," she said with confusion. "Oh, wait, did you find it?"

As I started the car, I said, "I didn't, but it's fine. I can drop you off home."

"I don't mind going," she said, leaning her elbow on the door. "It's on the way anyway."

"You sure?"

She hummed in agreement, so I drove us straight to the camera store, knowing I wouldn't be long. Luckily, it was still open for the day, and when we headed inside, she immediately began to wander around the small store, intrigued by the cameras on display.

I began to talk to the shopkeeper about my lens size and what camera I had, hoping he had a replacement cap I could buy, and then he left to have a look in the back.

"Y/N, there's a photo booth!" Jackie suddenly called as I was waiting for the shopkeeper to return.

"Yep," I acknowledged, having seen it a million times so not sure what the hype was.

"We have to use it, c'mon!" she pleaded, already grabbing my hand.

I rolled my eyes, having gotten used to Jackie so much that I knew to just go with the flow at this point. She was grinning as she looked at the button and money slot.

"It's fifty cents," she realised, before elbowing me in the gut as she rushed to find some coins in her pocket. Eventually she pulled out a quarter and looked at me. "You got another quarter?"

"I guess? I don't–"

"Look!" she encouraged, and I grumbled to myself as I dug around in my own pocket, managing to pull out a quarter. Before I could even offer it her, she grabbed it from my hand and put both of them in the machine.

After fiddling around, a manual timer ticked to signal the first photo was going to be taken, so Jackie moved closer to me to fit in the lens.

"Smile!" she said, and I had no choice but to listen.

The photo was taken and, just as quickly, the next timer was going off.

"Funny face!" she instructed immediately, before pulling one of her own.

I rushed to stick out my tongue, managing to do bunny ears behind her head without realising, and then the final timer was ticking.

"Okay, a kiss on the cheek for the grand finale," she said with amusement, and because we'd been so rushed up until now, I didn't really think to question who was kissing who.

As the last tick went off before the photo, I turned to kiss her cheek, but she must have done the same, because for a brief moment, our lips touched and then the photo was taken. Embarrassed, I quickly pulled away, as did she.

"Sorry," we both blurted at the same time, and suddenly this photo booth felt too small.

"Y/N?" the shopkeeper called, and I was grateful for the interruption as I stepped out the photo booth and saw he was back at the counter. "Got your lens cap. This should fit like a glove."

I swallowed thickly as I approached the counter, acutely aware of Jackie stood behind me, looking as awkward as I felt. After paying the shopkeeper, the two of us left and returned to the car.

"Er, did you want the photos or–" Jackie started to ask when we got in the car, holding the strip that the machine gave her.

"It's okay, you really wanted them," I said quickly, before distracting myself with starting the car.

To say the car ride home was awkward was an understatement, even with the radio filling the silence. I wasn't sure why, since we both knew the poor attempt of a kiss was an accident, but my fear was that I'd made her feel uncomfortable. It was the last thing I'd wanted, but I couldn't bring myself to speak, and neither could she.

I barely got chance to put my parking brake on when she got out the car and avoided my eyes.

"Thanks for the ride," she muttered, before walking up the long path to her mansion of a home.

I would have left it there, but it felt wrong to, and then I noticed she'd left her backpack in the backseat, so I called her from the open window and grabbed the bag. Jumping out the car, I jogged to meet her halfway, glad she'd stopped.

"You forgot your bag," I said, holding it out to her, and she accepted it, expressionless but staring holes into my face.

Knowing I couldn't leave it like this, I started, "Jackie, what's–"

But she cut me off instantly – and to my surprise – with a kiss. I stumbled back as she grabbed my face, kissing me with such intensity that it took me a second to realise that Jackie fucking Taylor was kissing me. And she was really good at it.

I closed my eyes, reciprocating the kiss, breathing in every part of her floral perfume, tasting every bit of her strawberry lipgloss. There was a second where we paused to take in a breath, but she closed it just as quickly, desperate and sudden and surprising.

Finally she pulled back, and then as if realising what she'd done, her hands let go of my face and she avoided eye contact like I'd make her go blind.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly, before spinning around and speed walking to her front door.

"Wait, Jackie–!"

But she fumbled for her keys and was already at her front door, not bothering to turn around. I swallowed hard, my lips still tingling from the sensation of hers, and went back to my car. Did that really just happen?

All night I was thinking about it, replaying the afternoon in my mind. She'd made me question a lot about my feelings for her in the past, and at one point, I was certain I was just projecting onto her – maybe that flirting was just who she was? But no, it had to be real, because she'd just made out with me on her own accord, and I liked it. I'd liked her, sure, but she'd always been unattainable to me for obvious reasons.

Well, until now.

The next day at school, I was hoping I could talk to Jackie about everything properly, maybe get some clarification on what she was thinking. So, you can imagine my surprise when I walked past her in the hall and saw her standing with Jeff, her supposed-to-be ex-boyfriend, leaning on his shoulder as he had an arm wrapped around her.

As soon as I saw them together, my heart dropped, the surprise easily replaced by humiliation. God, how could I have ever thought Jackie Taylor and I could be a thing? Was I stupid?

Turning to walk a different way, I fought back the urge to cry, feeling used and stupid and like an absolute fool for thinking yesterday was anything special.

"Hey, Y/N, wait," Jackie suddenly called, and then she stopped before me with apologetic eyes. "I didn't–"

"So you're back with Jeff, huh?" I got straight to the point, glaring at her.

She avoided my eyes and nodded weakly.

I scoffed, feeling much better hiding behind my anger than my sadness. "Why did you even do it, Jackie? Why d'you kiss me?"

She frowned. "I don't know."

The longer she avoided my stare, the more upset I became. How dare she do all of this, make me fall for her, force herself into my life, only to throw it back in my face.

"Just wanted to test it out?" I muttered bitterly. "Kissing a girl?"

She winced. "No, it wasn't like that."

"Then what?" I asked, searching her expression for a clue, but she refused to answer, either not having the words or not wanting to upset me anymore. Too late for that. "You should figure your shit out," I said harshly. "And don't speak to me again."

Finally, she looked up, but I was already leaving, ignoring when she called my name. I should've known she'd go back to him, she always did.

Fuck Jackie Taylor.

It was impossible to avoid her and Jeff over the next few days, since they were in a lot of my classes and always on the way to my locker, but I tried my darn best to.

Unfortunately for me, I was out grocery shopping with my mum when I spotted a familiar blonde head of hair further down the aisle from us, standing with her best friend. I was hoping if we stayed put long enough, they'd just keep going and we wouldn't bump into them, but my mum, who was oblivious to our falling out, spotted Jackie instantly.

"Oh, Y/N, your friend is here," she pointed out, and before I could tell her to keep it down, she started to call out Jackie's name, earning her attention.

"Mum, no!" I whisper-shouted, but it was too late because Jackie and Shauna were already approaching us.

I considered walking away, finding somewhere else to busy myself, but my mum would have just found a reason to make it a big deal, so I stayed put and kept quiet.

"Hey, Y/M/N," Jackie greeted my mum in her usual chirpy voice, before I felt her looking at me. "Hey, Y/N."

I ignored her, suddenly interested by the handlebar of the trolley.

"Jackie, it's so great to see you again," my mum said, genuinely happy to chat with her, since the soccer player had made quite the impression on her. "And your friend, it's Shauna, right?"

"It is, it's great to meet you," Shauna greeted her kindly before shooting me a smile. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hey," I mumbled, giving her a quick smile before looking at the bananas on display.

"You know, it's a good thing I bumped into you," my mum said to them, particularly Jackie. "I wanted to thank you again for your help at the fundraiser! We raised over five thousand dollars!"

"That's amazing," Jackie said with disbelief. "I didn't know."

At this, my mum glanced at me questioningly. "Didn't you tell her, hon?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Must've forgotten."

"Oh, Y/N," my mum scolded lightheartedly as Jackie looked away uncomfortably.

She continued to talk the girls' ears off before finally realising she was holding everyone up and saying her goodbyes. Taking the trolley from me, she began to push it forward and I was about to follow, but Jackie suddenly grabbed my arm.

"Y/N–"

I pulled my arm from her grasp, not bothering to meet her gaze. "Don't you have a soccer game to practice for or something?"

She didn't reply, and I rejoined my mum's side, remaining quiet for the rest of the trip. Why couldn't Jackie just leave me alone?

I was making notes in my English workbook as the teacher continued to explain the variations and development of children's language AKA the topic of our next assignment.

"...and I think that, just like children, students like Jackie Taylor can't seem to focus when they're supposed to be," Mr. Collins suddenly said, pulling me from my focus. "Miss Taylor, is there something particularly fascinating about the back of Miss Y/L/N's head?"

A few students giggled to themselves as I flushed with embarrassment, too afraid to turn around to see what he was talking about, though it was pretty self explanatory.

Jackie cleared her throat, embarrassed. "Of course not, sir. Sorry. Continue."

"Thank you," he said sarcastically, before continuing to read through his presentation, but my face was still flaming and I was unable to focus for the rest of class now, aware of the hazel eyes staring a hole in my back.

God, she was seriously not helping with this whole getting over her thing.

About a week after the whole Jackie thing, I unfortunately couldn't seem to avoid her forever as I had to take photos at the Yellowjackets' away game. I told myself I'd just do my job and be gone to avoid any awkwardness, but of course, that couldn't happen.

The game happened to be at East Rutherford High which wasn't a big deal, but as I was setting up my camera on the side of the pitch before the game, Olivia found me.

"Y/N, hey!" she called, and I turned around before remembering she went here.

"Liv, hey," I said with a smile, before hugging her. "I totally forgot you go here. Big soccer fan?"

She chuckled. "Not really. But my friends are so I said I'd come watch. Don't know why we bother though, the Yellowjackets always kick our arses."

I tried not to laugh because it was true. "Way to support your team."

"As a school, we've kind of accepted our defeat," she joked, before nodding to my camera. "You're taking photos for the paper, right?"

I nodded, letting my camera hang from my neck. "That's right."

"Your photos are always so good," she complimented, and I was surprised she'd seen them, so she clarified, "Sometimes our school paper look at examples of nearby schools and whenever they show us yours, I always see your photographs."

I smiled with embarrassment, though touched that she'd noticed. "Thanks, Liv, that means a lot."

She shrugged. "Just stating the truth." She paused, glancing out at the pitch as the players started to file out. "Surprised your friend, Jackie, isn't here. Didn't think she'd like me talking to you."

At this, I grew embarrassed for a different reason. "Yeah, look, I'm sorry if she was standoffish with you last time. I didn't–"

"I'm teasing," she assured me, trying not to laugh. "But it's all good. I should go find my seat anyway."

I sighed, nodding, and she smiled sweetly at me before leaving. Rubbing my face, I tried to push any thoughts of the soccer captain out of my head, hating that she was still being mentioned even when she wasn't here.

Instead, I focused my efforts on photographing the game, actually quite enjoying that it was an evening match so the lowlight gave me something to practice with. During half time, Olivia stopped by again and I welcomed it, enjoying getting to know her a little more. She was actually really chill to hang out with, but Jackie's words were still in my head about her 'textbook flirting'. Either way, Olivia was fun.

It was a given that the Yellowjackets would win, and after the game ended and I snapped some celebratory pictures, I moved to the side of the pitch to pack up my things. Olivia approached me again and I smiled.

"Great game, huh?" she said with amusement.

"Always is when the Yellowjackets play," I said playfully, and she raised her brows with mock disbelief.

"Wow, you're already starting the soccer war? That's low, Y/N," she said, making me laugh.

"Gotta support the home team," I said with a shrug. "Especially when they're that good."

She rolled her eyes, suppressing her smile. "Yeah, yeah..." As I shouldered my camera bag, she asked, "You heading off now?"

"That's the plan," I said with a tired sigh. "Why? Aren't you?"

She locked eyes with me, smiling softly. "I was going to ask if you're free to hang right now. Could grab some food or something?"

"Oh," I said, realising she was asking me out. "I– erm–"

It sounded fun, and why couldn't I enjoy a dinner with a cute girl? Smile forming on my lips, I was about to agree, but then the devil's spawn herself decided to appear.

"There you are," Jackie said, looking to me, either oblivious to my annoyance or choosing to ignore it.

"Didn't take long," Olivia mumbled to herself, but I heard it. Clearing her throat, she said to me, "I'm gonna guess you're busy tonight?"

"Oh, there's an after game party," Jackie answered for me, making me clench my jaw. "Kind of a tradition."

Olivia forced a smile. "Right."

"I never go anyway," I said quickly, earning her attention, and receiving a glare from Jackie who I so desperately wished would leave. "I can–"

"The others are asking if you'll go tonight actually," Jackie interrupted, flashing a sickly sweet smile at me.

If looks could kill, she'd be toast right now. Who the hell did she think she was to step in right now? She'd shown me how she felt – she didn't have a right to do this.

"Never mind," Olivia said, already backing up. "Enjoy."

Losing my glare, I looked to Olivia, ready to apologise, but she'd already walked off to join her friends and I knew I'd only make it worse.

"Huh, I was right," Jackie mumbled to herself, which reminded me she was still standing there and very much the reason Olivia hated me now.

"What the hell d'you do that for?!" I shouted at her.

She raised her brows, feigning confusion. "Do what?"

I clenched my fists with frustration. "No! You don't just get to do that!"

She shook her head. "What?"

I scowled, looking between her eyes with annoyance. "Care. You led me on. Used me as– I don't even know what! Some sort of rebound? An experiment? Either way, it was horrible, and now you don't get to just come in and stop me from accepting dates. You're nothing to me, Jackie."

As I spoke, she began to frown, only serving to piss me off further. How could she act like the victim right now? I was the one who'd been played!

"I didn't use you," she said weakly, but I could only step back and fix her with a glare.

"Leave me alone," I warned her once more, not bothering to stay behind to see what she'd say.

The weekend passed and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking of Jackie the whole time. I wished I'd never found her crying after her breakup with Jeff because then I wouldn't have felt the need to check on her and she wouldn't have felt the need to be my friend. My life was a whole lot easier when she wasn't in it, and yet I still couldn't stop thinking of her. She was bad for me, so why did I still care about her?

I hadn't seen her since the game on Friday night, and despite the fact that she'd literally humiliated me, I still felt guilty for shouting at her. I wasn't someone who got angry easily, but truthfully, it wasn't anger. My heart hurt and who else to take it out on than the girl who broke it?

It was foolish of me to even feel that way, since we weren't anything. She'd never said she cared about me as more than a friend, she hadn't really done anything out of the ordinary except kiss me, which had clearly been a mistake. Her flirtatious behaviour was just typical Jackie. I knew what I was getting myself into. I guess this whole thing was my fault in a way.

Trying to take my mind off it, I stayed back after school to start putting my end of year portfolio together for photography class. I was grateful that nobody else was here, needing the quiet to simply get lost in my school work and nothing else.

I was considering some photographs on the desk when the sound of the door opening startled me. Nobody was supposed to be here, but when I turned around, my surprise faded into irritation at the sight of Jackie.

"Okay, seriously, do you need me to sing it you?" I asked with disbelief. "Write it down? Get a fucking sky writer?! Leave me alone, Jackie!"

"Wait," she said quickly, closing the door behind her and letting herself in, making me groan. "Please, I just– I have something to say."

I rolled my eyes, looking back to my photos with hopes she'd get the hint. "What? You finally figure your shit out?"

It was sarcastic, so I definitely didn't expect her to say, "Yeah. I broke up with Jeff."

My brows knitted together with confusion when I looked to her again. "You what?"

She licked her lips, grateful for the relief in tension. "After the game on Friday. I ended it."

I was certainly shocked to hear that she'd done that, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. Crossing my arms, I tried to appear indifferent. "So what?"

She exhaled softly, steadily approaching me until she was stood right in front of me. Her hazel eyes, looking brown as they met mine, held my gaze with determination.

"You weren't an experiment," she said guiltily. "You weren't a rebound either. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N."

I frowned, eyes flickering between hers. Both my frustration and distress were building up because she seemed to be telling the truth, and it wasn't fair. She still did it. She broke my heart.

"Then what?" I asked, hands trembling. "How else can it seem when you–" I paused, glancing at the classroom door which was closed. Still, I lowered my voice for her sake. "When you kissed me – which, by the way, you initiated – then, before I can even discuss it with you, you get back together with your boyfriend? How?!"

She frowned, shaking her head as she looked down to her hands. "It was horrible, I know. You have to know how much I regret it."

"Gee, thanks," I said bitterly, and she was quick to look up again, worried.

"Wait, no, that's not what I meant," she explained. "I regret getting back together with Jeff, not kissing you. I– I liked that a lot." She was unusually nervous, swallowing visibly. "I like you."

My heart was confused as I studied her expression, seeing nothing but honesty.

"I should've said something," she admitted. "I didn't know that I'd fall for you, Y/N. I've never even liked a girl. Especially not one who's so sure of herself."

I scoffed, meeting her confused look with a knowing one. "Seriously? You're Jackie fucking Taylor, the most confident girl in school."

"Not always," she said with a wince. "Clearly."

I watched her, struggling to accept what she was saying.

"I understand if you hate me," she said, straightening up and meeting my gaze with a solemn one. "And I'll truly leave you alone, as you wish. Just say the word."

I pressed my lips together, seeing the serious expression on her face. I couldn't just say the word, because no matter how hard I'd tried to hate her, I just couldn't. All I'd really wanted was for her to like me, too.

She stood patiently, probably would have stood there for the rest of the day, waiting for me to speak. And I hated it because she'd hurt me deeply, but now I understood why. And even after everything, I still wanted her.

"Y/N?"

For once, I stopped overthinking and just kissed her, eyes closing when my lips met hers. She breathed out and lifted her hand to rest on my neck, pulling me closer and sending shivers down my spine at the contact. It was desperate, I was aware, but I couldn't get enough of her taste, her floral scent reminding me of last time, the adrenaline rush.

Without meaning to, her back hit her the desk behind her, but other than a brief readjustment, we continued to make out, my head spinning with thoughts of how good she felt so close to me. Stupid pretty girls and their stupid pretty faces.

We pulled apart for air, but I didn't let go of her just yet. My heart was thumping in my chest as I caught my breath, lips tingling as they craved for hers yet again.

"I really like you too," I said without thinking, eyes flickering to hers. "That's why it stung when you did what you did. Why I was so angry."

She nodded slowly in understanding. "I'm sorry."

I sighed, closing my eyes as I tried to collect my thoughts, but it was pretty damn difficult when she was still invading every sense of mine and I welcomed it.

"I don't know how I can trust you," I admitted, opening my eyes and being met with her determined expression.

"You can," she promised.

"What if you decide you don't want this anymore?" I asked, not wanting to doubt her feelings, but not prepared to start something that could end in heartbreak. "What if you think you've made a mistake? Start to miss Jeff? Then what, Jackie?"

"That won't happen," she said with certainty, thumb stroking my cheek.

"But it could."

She frowned, eyes boring into mine as if trying to make me understand. Finally, she said, "I'll spend forever proving you wrong."

I got lost in her eyes, so full of conviction that I had no choice but to believe her. Maybe some things were worth the risk. She certainly was.

"I'd love to see that," I said after a moment, an attempt at a joke.

She paused, trying to digest my words, and then she cracked a small smile.

"I forgive you," I told her. "I know how hard it can be to admit your feelings to yourself, especially for the first time."

She was hopeful, and I was suddenly overcome with an excitement because Jackie Taylor was stood in my arms, telling me she liked me, and I wasn't dreaming.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked, making me smile.

A simple nod and then she captured my bottom lip between hers, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter a storm. Unlike before, this kiss was slower than the others, more considerate, and I knew then and there that I'd never get sick of her lips.

She pulled away after leaving me breathless, her eyes half lidded when they looked from my lips to my eyes. "How was that for proving you wrong?"

I let out a breathy chuckle, admittedly a little flustered. "It's a start."

A smug smile appeared on her lips and then she was kissing me again, laughing as she did.

Lil bonus scene:

This was the least peppiest pep rally I'd ever been to, producing the worst photos I could take because everybody looked bored. As the principal made a speech about how 'good' the baseball team were doing this year, I snapped a few photos but ultimately sat bored in the front row. Everybody was much more excited for the star of the show – the Yellowjackets.

And after what felt like forever, the school band began to play their instruments and the soccer team began making their way in. Like a switch had been flipped, all the students in the bleachers stood up, cheering and applauding and celebrating their favourite sports team.

A much better subject, I began to photograph the crowd, all dressed in the bright yellow and blue school colours, waving signs and beaming with painted faces. And then my focus shifted to the team themselves, who were lining up before the crowd, grins on their faces. Despite the principal trying to calm everyone down so he could make his speech about how great they were doing, nobody would listen, still cheering on the team.

As I was snapping photos of them all, Jackie caught my eye and a playful smirk was on her lips when she winked at me. Even after the month we'd been together so far, she still left me nervous sometimes, thought I'd accepted that was what came with dating someone as self-assured as Jackie Taylor. We hadn't broadcasted our relationship by any means, but students at school weren't stupid and they were beginning to put it together. I didn't mind though, and I hoped she didn't either.

Finally, the principal managed to quieten everyone down long enough to make a speech worth listening to, expressing his pride in the Yellowjackets and wishing them luck as they prepared for the game tomorrow which would determine whether they'd make it to nationals.

After he finished, the band played them out, along with the audience's cheering, and then everybody began to leave. I was one of the last few to go, making my way out of the sports hall, only to be pulled to the side suddenly, realising Jackie had been waiting for me.

"Someone took their time," she said impatiently, crossing her arms, now wearing her varsity jacket over her soccer uniform.

"Someone was doing their job," I reminded her with a smile, wiggling my camera in the air.

At this, she quirked a brow. "You got my good side, right?"

I laughed. "Jackie Taylor doesn't have a bad side. She knows it too."

She began to smile, flicking her hair in agreement, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"You look cute with your face paint on," I told her, referring to the little yellow jacket painted on her cheek.

"It's called school pride," she said, before giving me a disapproving look. "You didn't dress up."

"Again, I was busy photographing everything," I said, raising my camera for emphasis.

"Well, we can't have that," she said, tutting, and then she pulled off her varsity jacket and attempted to wrap it around me, but I stopped her.

"Wait," I said, realising what she was doing.

"What?"

I stared at her knowingly. "It's your jacket."

"Duh."

"Yeah," I agreed in a matter-of-fact tone, "but–"

"I'm giving it to you," she said simply, confused when I wouldn't put my arms in it as she held it open.

"You can't," I said, wondering if she was playing dumb or what.

She furrowed her brows. "What? Why?"

I amended my comment, "I mean, yeah, you can, but you know that people will put two and two together, right? You give me that and it'll be, like, an actual confirmation to everyone that we're dating."

Still, she wasn't following as she stared with raised brows. "Okay? And...?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. "You don't mind?"

Finally catching on to why I was questioning her, she relaxed and lowered the jacket momentarily. "That's sweet of you to ask, but no, I don't mind." She paused, before glancing at me worriedly. "Wait, do you?"

I sighed, before an amused smile formed on my lips. "No, I don't. I just didn't want you to feel like you had to."

Her expression softened, smile appearing on her lips and matching the sparkle in her eyes. "I want to. Now, come here."

This time, I let her help me into her jacket, immediately engulfed in her scent and warmth and not minding in the slightest. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork, eyes looking me up and down for several seconds too long and leaving me with a warm face.

"I should've given you this sooner," she said, impressed, and I rolled my eyes at her pride.

She chuckled before pulling me in for a quick kiss, and then we walked hand in hand down the hallway.

"You know that this means you have to be my number one fan now, right?" she asked, giving me a sideways glance.

I tried not to laugh as I said, "But I already supported the team–"

"No, not the team's fan," she cut me off nonchalantly, "mine. Me. Player number nine."

At her dead serious expression, I began to chuckle quietly. "Nine. My new favourite number, darling."

A smile crept on her lips. "Good."

#jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor imagine #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor #ella purnell #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets

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simplyholl · 1 year

Text

Out of My System Pt 3

Summary: Loki doesn’t understand Thor’s attraction to Midgardians. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Avenger Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smuttish but no smut. 18+ only. Minors DNI. Eventual smut.

W/C: 1K

See my Masterlist here

After the Thor incident, rumor spread throughout the tower. You had heard everything except the truth. The wildest one, and your personal favorite was that Thor had caught you riding Loki in the bathtub, and Loki kept thrusting into you while he talked to his brother.

That one made you giggle. How absurd. It was Scott’s favorite one to tell, so you heard it at least one hundred times. Your teammate’s hushed voices, speculations, and giggles didn’t bother you. What got under your skin was Loki’s reaction to the rumors.

You would tell the others that wasn’t what happened, that you were wearing swimsuits and just washing off the mess of your sticky popsicles. But Loki would loudly set the record straight, denying that he would ever touch you in that way.

He couldn’t be attracted to a Midgardian. Unlike his brother, who would stick his dick in anyone who was willing, Loki was more selective of his partners. You knew that. You had discussed former relationships and lovers with each other.

One night, Thor brought home two women and Loki told you he could never stoop as low as his brother, that Earth women didn’t compare to the beauties on Asgard. You had no doubt. You could only imagine what those women looked like since the only Asgardians you knew were like beautiful sculptures come to life. It still stung for him to reject you so publicly.

You were sexually attracted to Loki. You figured everyone was, he had the most fans of all the Avengers. When the team did press events, bras and panties were thrown at him every time. He had confirmed this week that he would never touch you, but you couldn’t help recalling how it had felt in that bathtub. It seemed like he was holding himself back to keep from touching you.

You had to be imagining it, the same way you made up how it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room when you were together. If someone struck a match you were sure the whole compound would go up in flames. You had to get him out of your mind, so you finally agreed to be set up with Tony’s nephew, Ben. He was handsome, but nothing like Loki.

Loki hated that he had to deny his attraction to you in front of everyone. He wanted to reject you before you could hurt him. As soon as someone asked him about it, he vehemently denied the palpable chemistry that bubbled under his skin and filled the air with tension every time you were near. But you never said anything hurtful about him. You simply told the truth of the situation, not that those idiots believed it.

Loki walked down the long hallway to your apartment. He was coming to tell you goodbye. He and Thor were leaving for Asgard in an hour. He would be back in a few weeks, but couldn’t leave without seeing you. He knocked three times on the door, waiting to hear the shuffle of your feet on the hardwood floor, but it never came.

Instead, he heard you call out “Come in.” He entered, looking around for you. “I’ll be out in just a second. Have a seat.” Your voice sounded like it was coming from your bathroom. You had been waiting for Natasha to help you get ready for the party tonight.

You were so excited when you heard her knocking, you quickly got out of the shower wrapping a towel around you before exiting the steamy room. “I can’t decide which dress I want to wear, Nat. Ben’s favorite color is red, so I thought maybe this one.” You reached for the dress you had laid out on the back of your couch when Loki cleared his throat, revealing himself as your guest, not Natasha.

You jump, your erratic movements loosening the towel you thankfully put on before coming out. It drops to the floor with a thud. You and Loki remain silent for a second, staring at each other.

Loki’s eyes moved from your face to your exposed body. If you didn’t know better, you could have sworn he was checking you out. He was probably comparing you to the women back home. That made your stomach hurt. He grabbed your towel, handing it to you. You covered yourself, wishing the floor would open and swallow you whole.

When Loki and Thor arrived on Asgard, Loki couldn’t hold back the one question that was on his mind. “Thor, who the hel is Ben?” Thor smiled at his brother’s question. “He is Stark’s nephew. I heard he wishes to court Y/N. I thought she was yours. Are you losing your touch?” Loki turned to Thor ready to unleash his fury when their mother interrupted them.

At night fall, Loki left his chambers in search of Fiona. She was his favorite lover. He often spent his nights during his visits buried inside her. They had slept together countless times over the past two hundred years. They never caught feelings for each other. It was just sex to both of them. That’s why Loki always went back to her. She didn’t cling to him or try to make it more than it was.

Fiona welcomed Loki inside her home without a stitch of clothing on. “I’ve been expecting you, my Prince.” Loki pushes her on the bed quickly removing his shirt. Her lips work against his moving to his neck and down his muscled stomach.

Loki wasn’t one to think of others during sex. He liked to be in the moment with his partners. Which is why he was surprised when he started thinking of you. How it would feel to have your lips on his. If you would be timid or eager with your affection.

The image of your naked body was burned into his mind. You were even more beautiful than he had imagined. He wondered what it would be like to have you writhing underneath him in pleasure.

“Stop” he nearly shouted at Fiona, placing his hands on her shoulders to still her movements. “I’m sorry if I have displeased you.” “It’s not you, Fiona. I…. I have met someone.” As the words left his mouth, he felt relieved to finally admit it.

Fiona listened to him talk all night. He told her everything from the moment you met until the towel incident. When he finished speaking, Fiona told him that he should sleep with you to rid himself of the feelings he had for you.

“You lose interest quickly, once you’ve slept with someone. You have only kept me around because I feel nothing for you. Perhaps once you take her to bed, all those feelings will fade. You’ll see it was all just curiosity.” Loki smiled to himself. What a brilliant idea.

Part Four

Tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @potter-puff007 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @anukulee @sheris532 @multifandom-worlds @lokixryss @javagirl328 @assemblingavenger @lilibet261 @lemonadygirl @joyofbebbanburg @bellajg21 @ladymischief11 @kats72 @evelyn-rathmore @innebulae @alexakeyloveloki @xorpsbane @itssomeonereading @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @navs-bhat

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki #loki x reader smut #loki x yn #loki x yn smut #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki x you #loki imagine #loki marvel #mcu loki #loki god of mischief #out of my system

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extremelyblackandwhite · 1 year

Text

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

masterlist

'cause when emma falls in love, she's in it for keeps she won't walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave

Y/N knew she shouldn’t care if Bucky wanted to introduce Sadie to her mother or not - after all, she had better and more important things to do such as trying to fix her apparently “unfixable” thesis. Nevertheless, she was worried. Sadie wasn’t her daughter but she cared for her and she couldn’t imagine how confusing things may be in her head, how she could cope with the question of why her mother was only appearing now. Yet again, as Bucky had made it abundantly clear, it wasn’t her place to give an opinion. So, she put it in the back of her head and focused on fixing the unfixable.

Maybe she hadn’t been clear enough. After all, she tended to go round and round to try to make a point and was know to get lost in narration. Or maybe she hadn’t used enough thousand dollar words, after all, she was at Columbia, a prestigious university, they required those thousand dollar words. Maybe she hadn’t put in the best references or ... or maybe her whole theory was just bullshit and she was about to become a street psychologist. So long dreams of being part of the academic board of a good university.

She sighed, burying her hands in her hair as she continued to re-read her thesis from the fake brightness of her laptop which was close to dying from the amount of times she had destroyed the battery with the continuous plugging and unplugging. Just as she was about to start crying due to pure desperation - not a first as a PhD student - her phone started buzzing against her pocket. Everyone in the library turned to stare at her, giving her gazes and side eyes which she couldn’t stand and followed by a string of mumbled apologies and hitting her hip against the table on the way out, she found herself a secluded place in the garden outside the library to pick up the phone.

- Stan? - she thought to herself as she answered the phone, holding her laptop and things on the other hand. - Hello?

- Miss? - his voice came from the other end of the call. - I am so sorry to be bothering you.

- That’s alright. Is everything ok? Is James okay?

- I think so, I’m not sure. Sadie is asking for you and I know it’s your day off but she’s insistent.

- Okay. - she sighed. There was no point putting another hour towards the 5 she’d already spent. Actually, if she spent another hour trying to decipher what was wrong with it, she may actually go insane. - Send me an address and I’ll be there.

Had Sadie gotten into trouble at school? Had Bucky gotten into trouble himself? She tended to lean towards the latter as Stan sent him an address to a law firm. Maybe they were meeting Anna there and Sadie was making a fit. She didn’t seem too keen on meeting her mother this morning and while Y/N believed she shouldn’t be forced to do so, if Sadie needed her then she was gonna be there. She got a taxi to the address, making a mental memo to charge Bucky for it as there was no way in hell she was going to pay for a taxi at midday in New York. She soon was dropped in front of a law firm, staring at the big glass doors for a while before Stan called for her attention from the car.

- What happened? - she asked as she got inside the car, Sadie immediately making a grabbing motion towards her.

- Daddy is sad. - she said as Y/N undid her seat belt to put her on her lap.

- She didn’t show. - Stan mumbled from the driver’s seat and Y/N didn’t know what to feel.

Part of her had to admit she thought it may happen, after all no one makes a complicated decision that fast and actually sticks with it. Not one as hard as meeting one’s estranged daughter at least. She had told Bucky just that and he chose not to listen and while her ego would like to say she’d told him so, truth was her heart was clenching at the mere idea of it. Sure she knew she was probably in the right but she wished she wasn’t. She wished Sadie’s mum had come despite Sadie’s objections. She couldn’t even fantom what Sadie was thinking or feeling at the moment. She didn’t think she would tell her either. She was too young to be able to articulate what it felt like and, maybe, too young the understand the situation in its entirety. She hoped the latter was true but she knew how observant children were.

- You’re okay, baby? - she caressed her face, moving her ginger hair away from her face. She didn’t looked to bothered, holding her Bingo toy against her chest. - Hm? Just squeeze my hand if you’re ok, yeah?

Sadie looked at her for a few seconds before squeezing her hand and leaning her head against her chest. She sighed, relief slightly taking over her worry which was quickly replaced by anger as she watched Bucky make his way to the door. She got out of the car angrily, holding Sadie against her chest like a wounded mother bear ready to claw anyone. How dare he? How dare he screw up like this and then just leave Sadie in the car with the driver? Was he insane?

Her blood boiled and she was ready to shout something that was sure to get her fired, but something stopped her. His eyes were rimmed red and he looked on the verge of crying, strongly holding it to continue showing his unbothered nature. The clothes which were always perfectly ironed and tucked were untucked and the tie which always sat well against his neck, tied to perfection, was loose and hanging from the side. For a split second, she wanted to comfort him, she wanted to cup his face, dry his tears and hold him as close as she was holding his daughter. For a split second, she wanted to tell him she understood where he was coming from, that the pain he was feeling wasn’t a punishment for his actions. But that was only a split second, he’d made it perfectly clear where they stood - she was his employee and he was the boss.

- You’re here.

- She needed me.

She needed her and Bucky needed her, he needed her badly. However, she merely got back into the car, buckling Sadie’s seat belt and turning her face away from his. Silence filled the car and Bucky swore that in all his years of running a company, of his years in the army, he’d never heard a silence quite this loud.

(...)

It was clear she wasn’t speaking to him. The drive back home was unbearable and even as they got back home, she continued as if he wasn’t there, instead devoting all her time to looking after Sadie from bathing her and feeding her. Bucky merely stood back, an observer in his own house. He wanted to be angry, he so much wanted to go and tell her he didn’t deserve this treatment, that she no place being angry. Except she did, and Bucky knew this. He knew she was perhaps waiting an apology but he’d been in his right as well. Sadie was his daughter, decisions regarding her first came to him. She didn’t make those for him. He made them and he didn’t care if she liked it or not.

At least he thought so. Truth was, he found himself outside his daughter’s bedroom, waiting for Y/N to be finished reading all her stories. She would have to eventually talk to him but if she wanted to be a brat, he could deal with it. At least he had ideas of how to deal with it, ideas which he probably couldn’t put to fruition - unprofessional ideas.

- Is she down yet? - he asked as she stepped out of the bedroom.

Y/N looked at him up and down as if he were nothing but a maggot, before shrugging and walking off to her bedroom. It made both his heart break and his blood boil. What did she even have to be mad about? She should be happy about being right. Yet, right now he had to look after Sadie. Opening her bedroom door, he found his two year old tucked into her sheets, Bluey playing lowly from the TV in her bedroom which was often turned off. He took a seat on the side of the mattress, leaning his arm over the bed rest.

- Are you okay, Sadie? - the two year old didn’t reply, too invested on the hijinks of Bluey. - I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, Sisi. I didn’t want it to go like that.

How does someone even explain to a two year old what had just happened? He could barely explain it to himself more less to Sadie who only saw things still in black and white. Y/N had said so herself, she understands who shows up and who doesn’t, not the nuances behind it. His lips pursed in a tense line as he moved a bit closer to his daughter.

- I love you, Sadie. - he kissed the top of her head. - So so much.

She cuddled next to her dad, her shining eyes which mirrored his, a permanent reminder she was part of him, looking at the low almost soothing sound coming from the TV. Bucky was sure he couldn’t do anything purer than her, anything better than her. She was his little miracle.

(...)

Y/N was still angry at him. She acted as if he didn’t exist, continuing on with her life as if he was merely a spectre she didn’t care much for. He had tried to make things better, sending her flowers and chocolates only to find them all delivered right back to him. She didn’t even complain when he purposely only sent her pay check a day late, instead finding an angry e-mail from her written in the most professional writing he’d ever witnessed. She wasn’t budging, stubborn as ever.

- Good evening, Y/N. - he said as he saw her the first time today, busy cleaning up the dishes from her and Sadie’s dinner. - Your hair looks different, you did something to it?

She rolled her eyes, turning the tap and putting on the bright pink gloves he always poked fun of. He had to give it to her, she would’ve been great in the army with that poker face.

- I have a charity dinner tomorrow and my mum’s watching over Sadie. I was thinking maybe you’d like to go as my plus one. A lot of Columbia alumni and staff tend to go, it’d be a great opportunity for you.

- No, thank you.

- You’d be doing me a favour if you went.

- Then definitely no. Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.

- What if I pay you?

- I am your daughter’s au pair, not your escort neither do I wish to become one. So once again, no thank you.

- Just let me do this for you. - he sighed, going after her as she continued with her nightly tasks. - Please. You were really great with Sadie when Anna didn’t show up and those people at that charity dinner can get you a job or something published in a good journal. I’m trying to repay you.

- I don’t need charity to know my value, Sergeant Barnes, neither do I need you to pay me back for doing a good job with your daughter as that is part of my job description.

- Just how many jobs do you think are in academia? In New York or a good college that can actually pay you a liveable wage? Or enough of a wage to even rent here?

- I’ll figure out a way.

- I’m trying to offer you a way to prove your value to someone face to face and not by a CV which will lay dormant on someone’s desk. You don’t even have to speak to me the whole night.

- Yes because what picture perfect that would be. Your plus one not talking to you, then they’d definitely think you picked the lowest price escort.

- I don’t need escorts. I can ask anyone in my office and they’d say yes. Being in my favour pays off either you like it or not and I know people at Columbia, Harvard, Yale and all those Ivys because I donate there.

- So does every rich person to get their kid in there someday.

- Point is, everyone will listen to you, to your opinions, if you go. It’s not an even playing field and you, cynical as you are, should know.

- I am not cynical, I am a realist. I’m sorry if I don’t believe that great things happen to good people.

- And what are you gonna do tonight, then? You gonna re-read your thesis for the 500th time? You don’t particularly have an active social life.

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. She really didn’t want to be next to Bucky, neither did she want to forgive him. She needed time to work through her anger and come face to face with the fact that someone who she thought was her friend threatened her job so easily. She knew Bucky was a hard pill to swallow, but she’d never had it directly thrown at her. Yet again, he did present a good bargain and she needed to figure out something if she failed her viva.

- What time is it?

- Starts at 9 but we leave at 8.

- Dress code?

- Black tie.

- What colour bow tie are you wearing?

- Why does it matter?

- It’s customary for someone’s plus one outfit to match but you’d know that if you actually took someone to these things.

- It’s black. Do you need to buy a dress?

- I have a dress.

- It was great negotiating with you, Y/N. - he winked, leaving victorious.

- Fucker. - she mumbled to herself and returned to doing the dishes.

(...)

Y/N knew this wasn’t Bucky being charitable. Not that he wasn’t charitable, he was, but he was also a master manipulator and usually did things with a purpose. He’d been educated in that manner, he knew how to behave and how to get people to like him, even though he didn’t particularly care if they did or not. For Bucky, it was all about the ability to do so. She knew this whole dinner invite was a ploy to try and soften her up but if he thought he would slip by without even a sorry, he was dead wrong.

Yet again, Y/N knew when to grab an opportunity so she did was she did best, look her best with the little she had. She had a black dress she’d worn for her graduation and with a bit of help from youtube she’d managed to slick her hair back in a bun, gold hoop earrings being the only thing that adorned her jewellery wise and Bucky swore he’d never seen such display of elegance as he saw her for the first time. Her dress cut was low, displaying the top of her cleavage and her collarbones which were sure to have been dusted with some sort of illuminating powder. She looked exactly like the type of person who’d sit next to a powerful one, equally magnetic and miles away from the cardigans she usually wore, sometimes stained with pen and markers due to Sadie getting to them. He almost forgot she was mad at him, gawking at her like a teenage boy.

- It’s 8. - she reminded him, effectively bursting him out of his bubble. - Are we leaving or not?

- Don’t be icy. - he offered her his arm but she refused, instead holding onto her heart shaped white clutch. - Car’s downstairs, you sure you don’t need help wearing those heels?

- I can walk in heels perfectly fine, Sergeant Barnes. Do you need help?

- I feel there’s an old man joke in there somewhere. - he helped her put on her coat, a tiny white chiffon bolero. - Shall we?

He wasn’t getting any close to her being any less detached from him, but he couldn’t help but admire her. She was a beautiful woman, that he knew, and she was definitely magnetic although she’d prefer to hide it. Yet, there was something about the way she looked tonight, so confident.

- You do look beautiful, Y/N. - he broke the silence that had been filling the car for the past ten minutes and for the first time in weeks, she finally looked him in the eye, a light dusting of heat covering her cheeks. - You do.

- You don’t look bad yourself. Except for the crooked tie.

- My tie is not crooked. - he fought back.

- Yes it is. - she turned her body to face him, her hands moving to undo his tie before she started to re-do it again. It was such a small action, such a simple and almost worthless action yet it reminded Bucky of some hopeless romantic notions he used to have. It was so simple, such a soft touch. - You can’t tie a tie to save your life. You never did.

- You’d been letting me walk around with crooked ties and you didn’t say anything? That’s cold, Y/N.

- That’s why you can’t braid Sadie’s hair to save your life.

- What are you talking about? She loves it when I braid her hair.

- If that’s what helps you sleep at night. - she smirked. - Do they have good food?

- Pardon?

- Do they have good food at the charity ball or is this an entree and champagne sort of event?

- Why? Are you hungry? Want us to drive by Five Guys and get you a burger or something?

- I know you’re joking but I actually would like that very much.

- They will be serving dinner at the charity dinner, Y/N.

- Won’t be as good as a Five Guys burger.

- Wouldn’t know.

- What do you mean you wouldn’t know?

- I’ve never had one. Not a fast food kinda guy.

- Urgh, you’re such a man. - she rolled her eyes in a playful manner. - Tell you what, after this is done I’ll buy you a Five Guys burger.

Bucky left the conversation there, happy to have gotten some smiles and smirks from her. At least he knew there was a chance for reconciliation whenever the time came for him to massively screw up in a way which made her forget the events which had made her mad currently.

He liked her company, she was never trying to suck up to him or sweet talk him into bed. She just talked to him as if he were anybody else on the street, as if he were someone she’d known forever, not caring for formalities or conduct. However, she knew how to be the right one for this kind of event. Bucky found that immediately as they walked in and he introduced her. Everyone was enchanted by her, complimenting her and questioning more and more about what she did. She hid from most of it, replying politely yet refusing to share more than surface level information but even so, Bucky had to admit she even managed to steal the spotlight for a bit, while she had to admit she wasn’t hating this as much as she expected to hate it. At least as long as he stuck by her side. His touch on her naked shoulder as he helped her take off her jacket, his hand resting against her hip as he introduced her to CEOs and CFOs as if she were more than just the nanny. It lulled her almost in a fantasy like state.

- Y/N, this is Delia. She works at marketing down at Saks.

- You didn’t tell me you were bringing a date, Barnes. - she smiled. - I wouldn’t have bothered coming if you were bringing a date.

- Y/N’s my plus one. - Bucky said. He wasn’t wrong, she said she’d be his plus one, but did he have to say it so fast.

- You’re still trying to impress her then. - she playfully put her hand on his arm making Y/N uncomfortable. She clearly wasn’t meant to be in the middle of whatever this is. She didn’t want to be in the middle of whatever this is. - You know, he can be very ... persuasive.

- Will you excuse me?

She made her way away from the two who were more interested in each other, at least as she saw it. She knew Bucky was a bit of a ladies’ man but it didn’t mean she wanted to experience it, or see it for any matter. It always made her somewhat uncomfortable, like her heart stopped for a second. Instead she just leaned against a wall, watching as the people walked by and stopped to chat to each other. When she was little, this was exactly what she expected these sort of events to be like - beautiful women and handsome men just walking hand in hand in expensive clothing, talking of the world and its affairs. She just never expected to be looking at it, instead of being part of it. Not that she wanted it, at least that’s what she told herself as she nursed a glass of expensive champagne. It was as if a dark cloud descended upon her as she watched from the outside, doing the best of her ability not to look at Bucky still in high talks with Delia. Why he bothered with Anna when he could easily find anyone else was beyond her.

- I thought it was you, Miss Y/N.

- Professor Anderson. - she straightened her back as if her mother had scolded her. - How was your holiday?

- It was great yet here I am back to work with a load of work on my desk. Yours being one of them. I have to say, I am very excited to see what you came up with.

- I wouldn’t be too keen. My other supervisor doesn’t seem to have taken a big interest but I’m working on another version. Making it a bit more succinct, easier to digest.

- But that has never been your forte, has it Miss Y/N? - she wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult, either way it was a correct observation, so she merely smiled nervously. Supervisors didn’t tend to disagree to a degree where she could just relax and not consider another year of expenses.

- Well, thank you for taking the time in advance.

- It’s what I work for. Bright people, new ideas. - she slightly raised her glass in a cheering manner. - Actually, I must introduce you to someone.

- It’s really not necessary. - last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself in front of someone important or see Bucky yet in another flirtatious conversation. His sex habits didn’t really interest her ... not right now, at least.

- Mr. Davis. - she approached a man who had equally found solace in the quietness of a corner. - May I introduce you to my PhD student, Miss Y/N?

- It’s nice to put a name to a face. - he extended his hand towards hers, smiling with an ease that made him look as if he had come straight of a fairytale book.

- Mr. Davis graduated top of his masters’ class in Psychology just a few years before you started at Columbia. It is a shame he didn’t stick with us for graduate school.

- Alas, I wanted to experience the real world.

- I should leave you two to discuss things. I’m sure you’ll find you have much in common.

She felt nervous around this man. He was attractive, attractive in a way which usually made her believe he’d want nothing with her. Attractive men usually didn’t yet he was eyeing her as if he’d never seen nothing like her. Perhaps he’d discovered that her dress was bought at a TJ Maxx for 70% the original asking price or maybe he’d noticed a scuff on her shoes.

- I saw you come in with Sergeant Barnes, I was hoping he’d introduce you.

- You know Sergeant Barnes?

- I work for him. - the poor thing. - Marketing division.

- What is a psychology graduate doing working in the marketing division?

- I believe you should understand your customer before you try to sell them anything.

- What? Like the colour pink makes people believe things are sweeter?

- You can’t sell someone something by portraying it as a fantasy. People turn against it eventually. - he quipped. - But you’d know that, considering you’re every males’ fantasy right now and every woman has made you the enemy.

- I hardly believe that’s true.

- You walked in by the side of New York’s most eligible bachelor, I’d say that’s true. Yet again, who can blame him? Smart and beautiful? I too would be parading you by my side.

- Would you?

- Actually, if you were my date I would’ve kept you home. God knows the things these men would actually do to get your attention.

- Like being a psychology graduate? - she smirked. - Sergeant Barnes is my boss. I look after his daughter Sadie. Helps pay for graduate school and it’s a rent free place to live. Besides, Sadie is just the most adorable girl I’ve ever seen.

- You mean to tell me I’m the first one to know that you are available?

- I wouldn’t say I’m available. Maybe just browsing.

- I do work in marketing, beautiful. I can sell myself pretty well, if you’d ask me.

- Huh, and how would you do that?

- You’re a Columbia student. I could maybe take you to the riverside park, we’d go on a walk, I’d woe you with my distaste of Freud’s theories and methods, and then we’d finish with a picnic.

- Maybe I like Freud’s theories, have you considered that?

- Nonsense, no smart woman would.

- I’m free Sunday night.

- So am I.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky/reader #bucky x y/n #bucky/y/n #bucky x you #bucky/you #bucky imagine #aud pair

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fukcnoplease · 4 months

Text

Things always go wrong pt5

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

The man immediately rushed to correct her, tripping over his words as his hands moved wildly, too fast for her to see. Dani knew this wasn't any kind of kidnapping or imprisonment. They couldn't catch her if they tried, not without ghost equipment, but it was kind of fun to mess with this giant of a man. Who clearly had super speed as his hands and words began to go so fast she couldn't understand either. Concerning, sure, but not enough to thwart her thirst for chaos or the urge to poke fun at this seemingly superpowered teddy bear.

“Am I gonna die here?” She asked, putting on her best scared kitten act. The man froze as he made an interesting set of noises in response to Dani’s question. She wasn't entirely sure they could be made by humans but she wasn't too worried. Her vague understanding of the superheroes around the world did mean she knew at least a few aliens existed in their ranks. She didn't know any of them by name though.

“I hope you understand that no one, no one, on this station would ever try and harm you.” The man said after taking a deep breath. A little rich since Batman had only recently tried to stick them in a lab but it was the thought that counted she supposed. He seemed to get more uncomfortable if she just stared at him silently though, so she kept silent in her scared little kitten act. Honestly it was kind of a riot seeing the man panic over things she knew were unimportant.

“Look! I’ll bring you to Batman and he can explain everything. How about that?” He said and Dani frowned. Batman likely wouldn't be as much of a help as Wonder Woman but if this guy wasn't going to bring her to the lasso lady then might as well go to Batman. Maybe she could even convince him to let her leave.

Dani nodded, shyly as she could muster, at the big man and he relaxed. He went to pick her up but she stepped away, not even as an act, and he fumbled with his hands before nodding briskly and turning towards a hallway. She followed him a little ways in a big meeting room, extra long dining table with too many chairs and another big, massive computer at the end of the room. It was a little scary how many way too fancy computers Dani had come across in only 24 hours.

Well, only two, but that was still more than the average person would in their lifetime.

Batman stood at the computer and typed at a raised keyboard. Dani had seen Jazz use a stand up desk, she said it was good for back posture and stress. She always talked about how posture was important and how it could affect you when you were older. Probably didn't mean much with ghost genetics so Dani never cared.

“BR-” The red caped crusader almost shouted as he walked in but was cut off by something hitting him directly in the forehead. He cried out when it exploded in his face as well. Dani would be lying if she said it didn't make her flinch, which is why she didn't say anything.

“Batman.” The man said again, rubbing his blackened forehead, “I wanted you to explain to- well, this child? That she was not in danger while on the station nor that she was kidnapped or imprisoned.”

Batman looked at the man then at Dani and scowled. Now that Dani was feeling better, and a little distracted from her brother dying, she started to notice how rude Batman was. He always scowled whenever they interacted and while she wasn't the best person in the world she certainly wasn't that bad. Well, not according to her anyway. “I want to leave.” She said. The caped man, she was really struggling not to just call him Teddy, looked shocked at her sudden firmness but Batman just stared her down. She racked her brain for a way to sound regal and vague when Batman cut her off with a simple answer. “No.” He said. “What?” She and Teddy said in unison. “No. Its been established that you are not safe on earth. We had medical bays if you need them and we have yet to confirm your royal status. There are heroes on the way to help with that. You will stay here.” He said. Dani could feel her ectoplasm churn and her core thrum with anger. “You don't have the right to refuse me passage back to earth. My allies can aid me more than you can and I will force my way to them if I need to.” She growled. Batman’s scowl only deepend. “There is no way we can confirm your allies are safe and until we can confirm your status you are as much of an unknown threat as they are. The Watchtower has all the facilities needed to help you. You will stay here.” Batman said before turning back to the computer. Dani was fuming, if Danny wasnt potentially withering away in another room she would have destroyed this place. “Batman, I know you feel the need to protect them but they are just kids. Can't we at least hear them out?” Teddy said and Dani felt immensely grateful for him. Maybe she would even lighten up on her bullying. Maybe.

“Kids can be more dangerous.” Was all Batman said and Teddy huffed.

“Yours, maybe, but we can't hold every kid to the standard of a robin, can we?” Teddy said and Batman finally looked back at him.

“Not every kid is a meta either.” He said and went back to work. Dani could feel Teddy flex as he grew more agitated.

“Batman.” He said lowly, and Dani instinctively took a step away from him. Batman didn't respond, but he did pause at where he was typing. There was a silence before the clack of keys started up again. Teddy took a deep breath before pressing something on his wrist, a light flashed red and he spoke into it. “Wonder Woman? Can you please come to the main meeting room? There is a young child who wishes to be escorted home.” He said. Dani looked as shocked as Batman did but she recovered faster. “Thank you!” She cried as she launched at Teddy and hugged his neck. He stiffened in shock but relaxed quickly enough to hug her back before she pulled away.

“Superman.” Batman said, he sounded angry but not enough to concern Dani. She did spin to do a double take at Teddy though.

“Wait, Superman? You’re superman?” She asked incredulously as she looked the man up and down. His costume made sense for the name, both the S on the front and the absurdity of it. “Yes?” Superman said, confused by why Dani was so surprised, “Did you not recognize me?” “Well, I guess I just expected Superman to look more… I don't know. Super?” She said. Someone laughed from the entryway and they turned to see Wonder Woman laughing at the doorway. “Praytell, how did you think he would look?” The woman laughed as she entered the room. Batman gave a grunt but was ignored in favor of the child now deep in thought. “I guess like, red skin? Fire hair? Maybe extra arms?” She said, “A cooler outfit?” Superman looked like a wounded puppy at her words and she felt a little bad. Wonder Woman started laughing again and quickly closed the distance between them, which Dani was surprisingly OK with.

“I suppose that truly would have been super,” She chuckled before composing herself, “Now what was this about a child wanting to go home?” Batman stepped forward this time. Dani felt the humor wash out of her as she glared down the man now officially holding her prisoner. “Until royal status can be confirmed both the metas will be staying on the Watchtower until further notice.” He said. Wonder Woman hummed as she looked at him, hip cocked in a friendly but challenging stance.

“And you?” She addressed Dani and Dani fumbled to find the right words. Batman couldnt look more sour if he tried.

“My friends are in Gotham, they can help more than you can but I need to get to them.” Dani managed as Wonder Woman watched her. It didnt feel as challenging or doubtful as it did when she was looking at Batman but it was still intimidating. “I see. And would you let us meet your friends?” She asked. Dani blinked. She hadnt thought of that. If they were in Gotham they would end up on Batmans turf regardless so the chances of him meeting the phantom gang was already pretty high. If they initiated though, maybe it would be easier when they eventually cause problems in the city? Or it would be worse because Batman would already know where to find them. “I can ask.” Dani said as she pulled out her phone from her torso, which shocked the heroes present. As Dani began typing, Wonder Woman turned to Batman. “I appreciate your desire to ensure there wasn't a dimensional war threat but there is an ill royal ambassador. Having an ambassador die under our care would have a similar effect to attacking them directly. Especially if we were denying them what could be life saving treatment.” She said. Batman grunted and stepped away from Dani, creating a small circle of just the heroes. Too far for normal hearing perhaps, but not for Dani’s enhanced hearing. “We have a medical bay on the Watchtower.” He grumbled and Wonder woman sighed. “Yes, but we cannot force them to use it. If they wish to use their own medicine that is their choice. Especially since we know nothing about them.” She scolded. Dani could have sworn Batman almost winced at her words. She sped up typing.

TravelerOfWorlds

Ok so 1) the heroes want to meet you guys

2) I think Wonder Woman is my favorite hero

3) Batman is my least favorite hero

EcoTerrorist

Why do the heroes want to meet us?

TravelerOfWorlds

Unclear. I think its just to establish you are real and not going to kill us.

EcoTerrorist

We are real. Depends on what Danny did to end up more dead.

But I am willing to meet a hero if thats what it takes to get Danny here.

TravelerOfWorlds

As in just one?

EcoTerrorist

As in just one.

And only if we get Danny first.

Dani squinted at the screen and sighed. She had lost where the heroes conversation was going but that just made it easier to interrupt.

“Excuse me?” Dani waited for Wonder Woman to hold a hand up to silence the arguing men as she turned to Dani and nodded for her to continue. “My… allies decided that they are willing to meet one hero. Just one. And only if my ambassador gets dropped off first.” Batman grunted but it was Wonder Woman who stepped up to talk. “Would you be willing to settle for a hero helping you drop off the ambassador?” she asked and Dani nodded.

“Yeah, I think that will work. They just need to get to the ambassador as soon as possible. I dont think they care about much more than that.” Dani said. Batman shifted behind Wonder Woman and Superman glared at him.

“Thats fine then. Do you know where you need to be dropped off?” Wonder woman asked and Dani sent another quick text asking for the address before nodding. “Somewhere in Gotham. I have the address if that helps.” Dani said. Wonder Woman paused thoughtfully before smiling, a bit too wide. “Well, Batman knows Gotham the best. Im sure he can help you and I think it would be best if he was the one to meet your friends. If your staying in Gotham, its probably best to know the local hero you can call upon.” She said. Dani scrunched her nose and Batman scowled. There was no way Dani was going to be asking Batman for help. Not if she had anything to say about it.

Except she didnt, because just as she was about to argue a crackling static filled the air around them. It sounded like tv static but layered underneath was the high pitch keen of electricity and a faint scream. Dani would recognize Danny’s ghost speech anywhere and was moving before any of the league had recovered from hearing the eerie sound.

Batman was first to recover, closely followed by Wonder woman and Superman as they followed the young, alleged monarch through the hallways of the watchtower. Dani didnt struggle to find her way back to the small room, Danny’s call for her being something of a homing beacon.

She slammed her hand on the keypad and the door opened to a tangled-in-sheets Danny who was face planted half off the bed. When he saw her the keen of electricity shifted into the pops and bangs of fuses blowing and he reached a hand for her.

She was quick to grab it and help him back onto the bed, untangling him as her own ghost speech layered on his. Her static overlayed with the sound of bubbles escaping liquid and splashes of something more viscous than water.

Once Danny had her in eyesight and her hand in his he started to calm down. The static dimmed and eventually stopped but he never stopped looking at Dani. It would be disconcerting if Dani wasnt freaking out about Danny using his ghost speech so publicly.

Some weaker ghosts used ghost speech regularly because it took less energy than projecting feelings core to core, distinct words were even more taxing, but Danny was powerful. He was the King of the Infinite Realms. He hated broadcasting the sounds of his death and he always had the energy to project entire paragraphs into someone's core.

“We need to get him to Gotham now.” Dani said and she moved to try to pick Danny up but was pulled back by Wonder Woman. She wanted to growl or hiss or something but Batman was already moving to pick up Danny, who was still carefully watching his little sister.

Dani moved quickly to stay with Batman as he made his way to the boom tubes. Behind them she caught the barest whispers between Wonder Woman and Superman.

“He is an impressive warrior. He never let his gaze waver, even in such a state.” Wonder Woman commented.

“Still worrying. With all the powers she has casually shown, I have to wonder what got him in such a state in the first place.” Superman added. Dani lost the conversation as they moved away and towards the metal cones.

The journey back was moderately better than the journey there, especially now that she knew what to expect. She still made sure to grip Danny’s hand tightly and send comforting thrums to his core as they passed through.

His eyes flashed a brighter green and he shuddered when they exited the swirling vortex but that was all and Dani was going to count that as a win.

The crazy batcar rolled up in front of them before they had even stepped off the boom tube platform and the doors popped open. Batman carefully put Danny in the back and Dani climbed in after him. The doors closed as Batman got situated in the drivers seat and they were off. Down the same path they used to enter, the crazy bat cave shrinking behind them until it was swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel.

Batman didnt pull up any directions for the address, didnt even give it a second look, he just drove in silence, which Dani was grateful for. She didnt have much choice but to go with him since Danny needed help sooner rather than later and arguing with Batman would have taken too much time. Time that Danny desperately needed. It didnt mean Dani had to be happy about it though.

They exited the tunnels into the dingy light of a clouded sky, blinding Dani. Huge gothic buildings towered around them, modern skyscrapers awkwardly built in between the historical stone. It was actually kind of endearing. The mish mosh of styles and buildings and the giant gargoyles on every building. If it was under different circumstances Dani might have loved visiting Gotham.

As it were they pulled into an alley next to a nicer skyscraper, one that was clearly trying to bridge the gap between modern and historic. Batman parked by the dumpsters and went to pick up Danny. “I can carry him.” Dani said, pulling the dazed halfa towards herself. Batman paused, a frown permanently pasted on his face, but stepped back. He moved to the nearby staff entrance and opened the door for Dani. After some cajoling and awkward shifting, she had Danny in a piggyback hold. It wasnt the most comfortable but after a few years Danny had stopped being the small teen and grown into a lanky young adult. Sure he weighed nothing to Dani but his awkward length made him unruly to carry with her smaller body. She still wasnt going to let Batman carry him though so she could suck it up.

The door was clearly a staff entrance so Dani was a little surprised it had been left unlocked but elected to not focus on that. Batman led them through the staff walkways and to the elevators, thankfully no one was around. Dani might have keeled over if someone had seen her getting into a fancy elevator with THE Batman.

She might keel over just having to be in the fancy elevator with the Batman. It was a long elevator ride to experience in complete silence, excluding Batman’s breathing. Damn, Sam’s parents for getting them a penthouse on the top floors of a skyscraper.

~~~ Hey gang sorry for how long this took, lots of stuff happening hopefully the next bit will be out sooner than later

thanks for waiting and for all the positive feedback this isnt beta read so sorry about the grammar

#dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc fanfic #dani phantom #danny phantom #batfam #for fun #long post #fanfic #creative writing #not beta read #We are making progress!#I dont think Danny will be lucid for a long while now #also ik batman looks like an asshole in this #he is #but he doesnt mean to #he is just shit at saying what he really means #we will get the rest of the batfam soon i promise

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