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queenshelby · 3 years ago

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Pleasure & Pain

50 Shades of Murphy – Part Three

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: SMUT, Dom/Sub, BDSM, Edging, Impact Play, Nipple Clamps, Wax Play, Unprotected Intercourse

Words: 5,246

Over the past week, you had signed Cillian’s agreement and had arranged for all of your medical check-ups and, as expected, everything was in order.

You’ve had the implant for about a year already and pregnancy wasn’t a concern.

Cillian, in turn, did the same and it wasn’t until Saturday that you caught up again after Cillian had spent the week in London with his brother.

When you arrived at Cillian’s house, you were rather surprised to see that he had cooked dinner for you and everything started off almost like a regular date.

You got along well and never ran out of interesting conversation material. Nonetheless, that particular evening, you were nervous and a little bit worried about what was to come.

‘You know you can still change your mind’ Cillian said as he poured you a glass of wine, which you finished rather quickly despite the fact that Cillian made clear to you that he wouldn’t give you more than one glass until after your session in his basement.

‘I know, but I won’t. I want see what this is all about. I have been reading up on it and I am not quite so sure why people find joy in inflicting and receiving pain this way’ you said, trying to ascertain what exactly it was that he would do to you.

‘It’s not about the pain. It is about pleasure’ Cillian explained and you nervously bit your lip, unsure how to respond to his statement.

‘So, you think I will enjoy this, being whipped and god knows what else you will do to me’ you said.

‘I am certain that you will. Despite, it’s not just that. You will see’ Cillian said somewhat reassuringly before asking you to get up, get ready and meet him downstairs.

‘So, what do you want me to wear then sir?’ you joked.

‘Nothing at all’ Cillian responded firmly.

‘Nothing? No lingerie?’ you asked surprised and a little disappointed as you bought three sets of sexy lacy underwear with you for him to choose from.

‘Lingerie is overrated. I want you to wait for me on the bed, naked with your hair tight up’ Cillian instructed before giving you a passionate kiss.

‘Yes sir’ you simply said with a wink as your lips drifted apart, knowing very well that you didn’t have to address him like this until you entered the play room.

***

You looked up from where you sat on the bed, completely naked, just as Cillian had instructed, when Cillian entered the room.

He made you wait for at least 15 minutes but you hadn't wanted to explore the room without him. You were simultaneously excited, aroused and fearful of what you might find amongst everything else you saw during your first visit to his house.

Cillian looked gorgeous as he stood in the doorway watching you, wearing nothing but tight black Calvin Klein briefs.

‘I am ready sir’ you said quietly as you watched Cillian walk towards the other end of the room, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

‘No rope tonight?’ you then asked as he returned silently with four leather cuffs, two smaller and two larger ones.

‘Not tonight’ Cillian said and you willingly held out your wrists for him.

‘Not yet. Lie down’ he instructed and you complied, lying down and allowing him to encircle your wrists with each of the cuff before securing them to a leather string which was attached to the bedhead above you.

Whilst the string allowed you to wiggle, it also allowed Cillian to turn you around without undoing the cuffs.

Without words, his eyes followed his fingers as they trailed down your cheek and over your shoulder to your breast where his fingers found your nipple, pinching it gently between his thumb and forefinger and rolling the swollen nub.

Then, Cillian grabbed the other larger cuffs which he placed around your ankles before retrieving a metal bar and attaching it in between the cuffs, keeping your legs spread wide.

‘Fuck, you look so sexy like this, all helpless and at my mercy’ he murmured from where he was sitting.

You smiled and looked up at him, moving your shoulders slightly, trying to wiggle around to get more comfortable.

‘It's adorable watching you try to retain some sense of control in here with me’ Cillian then said before he placed his hands on your shoulders to stop your movements.

‘The moment you signed that contract you surrendered all control of what happens here to me’ he then reminded you as he moved away from you and you watched him as he seemed to be slowing himself down with the distraction of retrieving equipment rather than rebuking your actions.

You said nothing as you watched him take out two candles before placing them on a waist-high shelf beside the bed and lighting them. Almost immediately the room began to fill with a subtle sweet smell. You continued to watch him as he went to a different panel and took several items from the cupboard before approaching you again.

‘You said you would take it easy on me the first time we do this’ you said nervously as you observed him carrying a leather strap towards the bed.

‘If you are a good girl and behave for me, then I will’ Cillian smirked.

‘Hmm, alright, I will be good’ you said somewhat nervously and Cillian could see that you were slightly worried.

‘Do you remember your safe words?’ Cillian then asked and you nodded.

‘Good. How are you feeling, now?’ he asked.

‘Green’ you said with a smile.

‘Good, now close your eyes and keep them closed’ Cillian ordered, wanting you to trust him without him having to blindfold you.

‘Why?’ you asked before you could stop yourself and felt the sting of the strap catch your breast.

‘Because I told you to, and in here we play by my rules’ he said in a low dark voice. ‘Close your eyes and keep them closed’ he repeated his command.

His tone and forcefulness sent a shiver down your spine, and without thinking about it any further, you closed your eyes.

Cillian took a few moments to gaze down on you, still not quite believing that you were here in this room with him and allowing him to use you in this way. He ran his hands over your breasts, playing with your hard-pointed nipples and listening to the small moans of pleasure you emitted.

You took a deep breath a moment before you felt his lips on yours while his hands massaged down your body starting from your shoulders and lingering over your breasts before moving lower across your tummy and then the area of skin just above your mound. You heard him groan deeply as if the slower pace he was moving at was torturing him, and you allowed yourself a small smile that you affected him in the same way his actions were affecting you.

‘Roll’ Cillian almost barked as he took hold of your body and helped you roll over on to your stomach.

The leather strip attached to your cuffs was now twisted tighter towards the bedhead and your legs were still held wide apart by the spreader.

‘Keep your eyes closed’ he instructed and the bed sagged as you felt Cillian's weight beside you on the mattress. He moved further to straddle your thighs, and you felt his hands touch lightly on your shoulders and you tensed as if expecting the strap to land rather than the continued soft touch of his hands.

‘Relax, Y/N. It's important to relax’ he whispered into your ear, his hot breath caressing your neck. ‘Where are we on the scale?’ he then asked softly.

‘Green’ you whispered softly.

‘Good’ he said softly as his hands glided over your ass.

You felt a small thrill flutter inside you as you began to surrender to him while he continued to gently touch and caress your body for at least ten minutes or so.

The feeling was amazing and you began to fantasise as you felt his hands skate around your thighs to just touch at the inner sides, mere centimetres away from your mound. You felt his hands creep slowly closer but withdraw again, making you whimper at the denial.

Cillian very carefully avoided any contact with your already soaking pussy and, instead, began working his hands around to your outer thighs. You groaned in disappointment and you heard his faint chuckle.

You took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the movement of his big strong hands again and sighed as you let the breath out.

‘Did you just sigh at me?’ Cillian asked cheekily as, suddenly, he smacked your ass.

‘I am sorry sir’ you squeaked and felt the cool air once again caress your pussy, making you realise just how wet and wanting you were from all of his teasing.

The pull on your ass cheeks stopped and you heard him groan before the mattress moved and you realised he had moved from the bed. You groaned in frustrated need as he stood there gazing down at you for long minutes.

But then, unexpectedly, there was a blow. The blow, when it came, was light and not at all painful, but made you squeak and your head come up in surprise as you registered what had happened.

‘Too light?’ Cillian questioned almost to himself.

The next blow You felt immediately as it landed over the first and made you hiss between closed teeth and lips and became clear to you that it was the leather strip that was coming down on your ass.

‘How do you feel?’ Cillian asked.

‘Green’ you whispered breathily, the heat from the blow starting to warm your ass. Three more blows came on the other cheek, seeming to hit in the same spot and stinging you with their heat.

‘Y/N?’ he questioned.

‘Green’ you said in a whimpering moan.

‘This is going to be more fun than I imagined then’ he taunted your and let loose a barrage of blows across your ass and upper thighs, making you moan loudly.

‘That’s a good girl’ Cillian praised the louder moan that had escaped your lips. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked as he paused.

‘Green’ you moaned in a purring way as you settled into the heat and subtle pain of your ass and thighs.

‘Ready?’ he asked, adoring the way you had answered him and enjoying the moment more than he could ever remember in the past. He saw your body tremble in anticipation and raised the strap again.

The first few strikes across the cheeks of your ass seemed lighter to you, as if just reheating the marks already imprinted on your skin. The warmth and sensations they caused were more than manageable, and you never thought to warn him by changing your colour of answer when he asked again. As he continued the increasing intensity of the strikes against your skin, they began to overwhelm you a little more as he worked the strap back down your thighs, giving your ass a small reprieve.

Your head spun, and a deep, intense rush of adrenaline shot through you, firing your brain and numbing the burning hot sting of your ass. You barely heard the words as he demanded to know how you were feeling, and you groaned out green again, feeling your body react not only to the strikes of his strap but also his commanding voice.

Cillian paused and ran his hands over your now burning skin, feeling the heat radiating from it and hearing your soft whimpering as he squeezed the fiery cheeks of your ass.

‘Unbelievable’ Cillian groaned and started to massage the colourful flesh of your ass again, revelling in your ability to take so much from him.

‘Finally, you relax’ he chuckled as he rewarded you by sliding a finger through your slick lips to tease you for a minute.

‘And you are so fucking wet too’ he then observed as he watched your hips buck almost involuntarily as he finally touched your pussy. You felt the teasing finger travel through your folds and playfully teasing at your clit, making your let out a purring moan of appreciation and test the bonds that held your arms above your head.

‘You are something else Y/N’ Cillian murmured in a pleased light tone, and began to insert a finger into you, marvelling at how tight you felt like this and feeling your muscles clutch at his finger as if wanting to draw it deeper. The tension soon became to much for you and you tried to grind yourself against his hand.

‘No! Don’t move’ Cillian scolded, withdrawing his finger and smacking your ass again. ‘Remember who is in control?’ he murmured darkly. ‘Let's try this again, shall we? Cillian then asked as he reinserted his finger and curled it down, seeking out the rough area of skin within your that would push your over the edge.

You whimpered in high purring moans, and when he added a second finger to the first massaging your g-spot with force, you couldn't control the rock of your hips as you built up to what promised to be an earth-shattering climax. Once again Cillian withdrew his fingers and smacked your ass even harder than before, making you cry out even louder.

‘Think carefully before you move!’ Cillian growled. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, and watched your take a shaky breath as you thought about what was happening.

‘Green’ you whimpered again.

‘Good’ Cillian said as he moved back down your body to kneel on the end of the bed again and grasped your hips in both hands, raising them and encouraging you to pull your knees below you to hold the position while your ankles were still spread apart.

On your knees, you felt the muscles in your thighs and ass stretch and pull at your damaged skin, and you whimpered softly as you knelt with your ass high and your head low against the mattress where your arms were chained forward and in place.

You concentrated on these feelings of discomfort as he once again pushed his fingers into you and continued to massage your g-spot, bringing you rapidly back to the point you had been only minutes before. You desperately tried not to grind back against his hand, realising your mistake now, but as the muscles in your thighs and ass continued to burn.

Cillian watched you carefully for all of the tell-tale signs that you were close to coming. You were panting heavily, and your body seemed to shudder as you tried to maintain your position for him. The sounds you made became increasingly higher pitched and, as he saw the muscles in your thighs trembling, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you on the edge of what would have been an amazing climax.

‘Remember to ask me for permission if you want to come?’ Cillian said in a low voice as you cried out, your body moving to seek the renewed contact, and he smacked you, pulling your legs from under your so that you landed heavily back onto the bed whimpering softly.

‘I was so close’ you whimpered piteously.’

‘Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it? In fact, you should really be punished for trying to come without my permission’ Cillian then said.

‘Punished?’ you asked somewhat worried as you looked at him.

‘I had thought about spanking you and leaving it at that, but it seems you enjoyed that a lot more than I had considered you would’ Cillian grinned. ‘Which I am more than pleased about, believe me’ he added with an elvish smile before he hoovered back over you.

‘Hmm, what am I going to do to you?’ Cillian murmured, moving forward to whisper huskily close to your ear. The movement had his cock lightly dragging up your back and you could feel how hard he was despite of the fabric of the briefs separating your skin from his.

You tried desperately not to think about how much you wanted to feel him inside you right at that moment, and you closed your eyes, trying to relax, but the feel of his mostly naked body against you was almost too much to bear.

Again, you wiggled your body against him as he briefly ran his hand over your mound.

‘So wet and needy’ he commented as his hand skated down over the lips of your pussy. Inserting one finger in you, he murmured ‘and so tight.’

‘That is a result of all your teasing. Please just fuck me’ you purred, feeling your arousal build again as he slowly moved his finger in and out of your tight hole.

You then felt the finger withdraw from you again and his body lean over yours as Cillian unstrapped you from the bedhead and removed the metal bar in between your ankles, but leaving the cuffs in situ for later perusal.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘Green’ you sighed and gave a small smile.

‘Good’ he then said before pulling you up into his arms.

Your heart began to race and you looked into his deep blue eyes seeing your own need and desire reflected back at you.

Cillian stood and helped you from the bed before he led you to a waist-high padded bench on the other side of the room, and once again Cillian pulled your arms back and joined your wrist cuffs together behind your back as you stood perfectly still. He went to a panel on the wall and retrieved another slightly shorter metal bar and bent to your ankles, attaching them to rings on the cuffs before lengthening the bar and pushing your feet widely apart.

‘Fuck, look at you’ he groaned, finally standing in front of you. His hands cupped your breasts and he lowered his head to one nipple, biting it without much force but enough to make you whimper. His fingers worked at the soft flesh as his mouth continued to tease both nipples to hard points.

‘Do you know what these are?’ he asked, tilting his head.

‘Clamps?’ you questioned in return and gave him a concerned stare.

‘Yes’ he said with a husky voice, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Then, he attached one to your nipple, and you found that, to your surprise, it was easily bearable.

You looked down as he attached the second clamp and let the chain swing freely between your breasts.

‘Hmm’ you moaned, biting your lip just as he tugged on the chain slightly until he saw your grimace.

‘How are you feeling? Cillian asked.

‘Still green, just’ you breathed, not wanting him to tighten them any further.

‘I was hoping for amber’ he smirked and gave the chain a small tug again, causing you to whimper and clench your teeth.

‘Do we have amber?’ he asked in a deep husky voice.

‘Yes fuck, oh god…amber’ you shouted out as Cillian watched you bite your lip.

‘Your nipples are sensitive’ he grinned before telling you again to stay still as he walked away from you momentarily.

‘Oh god, no’ you huffed out, breathing heavily as he returned with the candles, he had earlier lit and placed on one of the shelves.

You had read about this and knew that the hot wax would soon be covering part of your body.

After sharing a passionate kiss, you reluctantly nodded and Cillian captured your eyes with his own as he tilted the candle, slowly pouring hot wax over the skin of your breasts, making you gasp and whine in a long-drawn-out sound.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked once both sides of your breasts were covered with cooling white dots of wax, making the skin around the dots of wax change colour and feed his arousal.

‘Amber’ you looked at him with teary eyes.

Cillian knew that it was the clamps that were causing you the most discomfort, and realising this was your first experience with them decided not to leave them in place any longer. He pulled the chain with a quick tug, making the clamps dig deeply into you before finally sliding free and making your cry out and rock in your stance. He moved to support you, his head lowering to capture and soothe a nipple in his mouth as he fingers gently massaged the other back to life. He spent long minutes going from one to the other as you whimpered softly, and when he finally stepped back he groaned deeply.

There were tear tracks in your make-up, and, where the wax had peeled and flaked away, large splotches marked your skin. Cillian was beyond turned on by the mere sight of you. So much so that he had to consciously get control of himself and breathe deeply.

‘How do you feel?’ he asked softly, reaching out to run a finger over your breast, flicking away some of the larger spots of wax.

‘Green again, I think’ you huffed and you couldn’t believe that, by that point, you were dripping onto the floor. To your surprise, the pain and Cillian pushing your limits turned you on.

‘So sensitive’ Cillian smiled as he played with your nipples again before he lowered his head and dropped a kiss on each one, still trying to regain control of his need to stop the game and just fuck you.

‘Please fuck me Cillian’ you begged, and every other thought about gaining control of his desires fled from Cillian's mind. He picked you up, turning you around and pushed you down over the bench you stood beside. He stepped behind you and thrust into you with a deep groan, stilling his movements for several minutes before pulling back, leaving only the head of his cock embedded in you.

‘You were so eager to have me finger fuck you earlier that you couldn't control yourself from pushing onto my hand. Let's see how well you can hold still now’ Cillian said, groaning deeply as he was all the way inside you and started to drip more wax onto your lower back, making you lurch forward again and turn your head, straining to see him and the candle he now held.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘Green’ you replied automatically and the wax thankfully cooled fast in the small trickle that had run over the top of your ass and down your thigh.

You were desperate for traction, but he gave you none. You felt his cock pulsate inside of you as he poured more wax onto you. You didn't pull away quite so much this time and, for your good behaviour, you were rewarded with several long and steady thrusts, causing you to moan loudly.

You caught on to his game fairly rapidly and, the next time the wax dripped onto your skin, you remained still so that he would continue to fuck you.

Cillian enjoyed your whimpers and jerky movements as he used the wax several more times before finally losing his battle against himself and pushing you forward and pumping into you hard and fast. Aware that he had denied you continually earlier, he used his fingers on your clit and felt you stiffen and arch your back against him.

‘Sir, may I come, please’ you groaned just before the first of your climaxes rolled through your body.

‘Yes princess. You did well’ he finally said and his free hand gripped one of your breasts and held you in the strange hard arch as he continued to fuck you remorselessly, and he felt you shudder and cry out as your orgasm ripped through you.

‘Oh god yes fuck’ you moaned and screamed as you climaxed in a way you never had before and Cillian was soon losing his own battle against his orgasm, but he continued on; one hand working your clit and the other mauling your breast as he pounded you as hard as he could.

Then, another climax rocked you physically, almost causing you to pass out.

By this point, Cillian couldn’t hold on much longer either and, with a loud groan and two more thrusts, he came as hard as you did, spilling his cum deep inside you.

‘Fuck’ Cillian cursed, and with unknown reserves he picked you up and staggered to the bed, freeing you from the bonds on your arms and legs. He felt your pulse and checked your breathing before climbing onto the bed beside you and cradling you in his arms.

‘How are you feeling?’ he then asked, kissing your neck gently as he did.

‘Fucking fantastic’ you murmured as you watched Cillian look all over your body, taking in the marks he had left.

‘I want to do this again…the orgasm after all this, it was out of this world’ you huffed out.

‘I told you it was about pleasure and not just pain’ Cillian said before he groaned deep in his chest as his arousal began to grow again. He didn't think he could ever tire of having you like this.

‘Oh my, eager are we sir?’ you giggled as your breathing had finally returned to normal after all this and you sat up, leaned down and kissed Cillian passionately.

Without giving him a chance to assert dominance over you again, you were quick to climb on top of him and lower yourself down onto his hard cock.

To your surprise, he didn’t protest as you began to fuck him and his warm hands soon found your breasts where he flicked his fingers over your nipples.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned as you rode him and felt the heat seep into your body and the tendrils of pain that radiated from your nipples spread out, helping you climb toward yet another huge climax.

Cillian dropped his hand and, taking careful aim, he spanked you, adding to the already bruised flesh of your ass. You whimpered and moaned, the combined sound once again coming out as a heated high-pitched purr as you rode him and ground down onto his cock. He alternated between the two areas, your breasts and your ass, and reached out to steady you as you arched hard, pushing down into him and shaking almost violently as you came again. The sight of you looking well used and trembling in ecstasy was enough for him to give into the milking muscles of your pussy. He came with you, coating your insides once more with his seed before pulling you down on top of him once your body had relaxed out of the hard arch, and he held you tightly, stroking your hair as you settled back down to earth along with him.

‘I never knew it could be this good’ you whispered as you stroked your hand over Cillian's chest and lay there listening to his racing heartbeat slow.

‘I must say, I never enjoyed it as much as I did tonight with you’ Cillian said gently before kissing you passionately once more.

‘How about we get some sleep, hmm?’ he then asked as he sat up and you momentarily thought that this is where you would be sleeping together.

To your surprise, Cillian was quick to pick you up and carry you upstairs to what clearly was his bedroom.

He then placed you onto the large bed, climbed in next to you and covered both your bodies with the large doona.

After spending aa good two hours together in the basement, you were exhausted and, after a few kisses it didn’t take you long to fall asleep in Cillian’s arm.

***

The following morning you both were woken up by the doorbell ringing at around 8 o’clock.

‘Are you expecting anyone?’ you asked still half asleep and Cillian shook his head before getting up and grabbing a t-shirt from his wardrobe.

‘Coming’ Cillian yelled out as the doorbell rang a second time and he was already on his way downstairs.

Unsure what was going on, you got dressed with whatever you found in Cillian’s cabinet and, when you heard the door for a second time after about ten minutes, you made your way downstairs thinking that, whoever came to visit, had now left.

To your surprise, this wasn’t the case when you saw two women stand in Cillian’s kitchen, making themselves a cup of coffee.

‘Oh hello there.... Cilly, you didn’t tell us you had company’ the blonde woman in her mid-sixties said with a wide a smile before introducing herself to you.

‘I am Leanne, Cillian’s mother’ she said as she quickly grabbed another cup from the cabinet for you.

‘I am Y/N, nice to meet you’ you said somewhat embarrassed before you recalled having seen the other woman who was standing in Cillian’s kitchen before. It was Cillian’s sister who he had dinner with at the restaurant that night he asked you out.

After Cillian introduced you to his sister, he mentioned to you that his mother likes to come and visit unannounced whenever she stays with his sister and the grandchildren.

‘Well darling, I just need to make sure my son is doing alright and has enough to eat’ she said with a wink as she unpacked a whole big rattan basket full of homemade scones, jam and some homemade bread.

‘I always told him that he needs a good woman in his life’ she then said as she walked over towards you and handed you one of the scones.

‘Scones for breakfast?’ Cillian chuckled as he watched his mother inspecting you.

‘Love, you have something stuck to your hair…may I?’ his mum then asked and you turned around which is when she pulled a bit of wax from the back of your neck and hair.

‘Looks like wax’ she then chuckled before putting the piece of candle wax on the kitchen bench.

Her actions caused you to flush with embarrassment and you hoped that she wouldn’t notice the marks on your legs and wrists from where the cuffs were affixed the evening before.

‘Well, Y/N does like candles’ Cillian smirked as he bit into his scone almost unbothered by his mother’s presence.

‘Oh Love, you should come to the farmers markets with us then. We are leaving at 10 o’clock. They have fantastic home-made candles for sale. Then you could come and have lunch with us. I always make a roast on Sundays’ Cillian’s mother suggested.

‘Mum’s roast is the best. Do you want to come? I might even come along to the markets, eh’ Cillian then said, catching you by surprise.

‘Yes, uhm…I would love to. Thank you’ you responded shyly.

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

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Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language and mild medical drama Warnings: Brief depictions of medical treatments for blood loss and its symptoms Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Bela has always wondered who her soulmate was, the person she was connected to by red string. When she finally meets them, she's devastated to find them hanging in her basement, being drained of blood. But her soulmate won't die- not if she can do something about it. Notes: Soulmate AU in which people have a red thread tied to their left ring finger (or elsewhere if missing the finger/hand), which connects to their soulmate. By default the string is taut/tight, only getting loose when the pair is relatively close to each other.

1: Stem The Flow

How long had she waited for this day? How long had Bela monitored the red string tied to her hand, waiting for it to be anything other than taut? A decade, at the least, if not two or more. For so long she had dreamt of her soulmate, albeit discreetly, wondering about every facet of their being. Entire days had been spent imagining them, and how they would come into her life. Sometimes, on those days, she would gently tug her end of the thread. Every single time, without fail, her soulmate had returned the motion. It warmed her heart more than she’d ever admit, to know that her excitement was not one-sided.

At times, it did worry her, the feelings in her chest reminding her of her youngest sister. Daniela was obsessed with love, dangerously so, to the point of being downright delusional. More than once her “affections” had gotten their family into some sort of trouble. No matter how mature Bela considered herself to be, there was a part of her that worried about repeating her sister’s mistakes. What if her excitement about her partner led her to overlook something crucial? What if the person in question posed a threat to her family? How easy would it be, then, for her to cut them off?...

Today, perhaps, she would find out.

The sun had set over the Romanian landscape, and with the moon rose the Dimitrescu household. First out of bed, as always, Bela wasted no time in getting dressed. Hazy visions of her fading dreams clouded her mind, tugging on her thoughts as always. Most days they felt more like memories than anything else. Today, they are quieter than usual, easily fading into the background. When the last traces of her grogginess disperse, Bela finds herself glancing at her left hand. It’s a daily habit, although discreet, that always leaves her with bittersweet feelings.

“Wait…” Bela whispered, as her eyes took in the unexpected sight: The red string of fate, tied to her left ring finger, loose as can be. It trails to the ground, coiled a single time, before heading underneath her door. “Am I dreaming?” She does not bother to pinch herself to check. Instead she practically jumps into her shoes, dashing out of her room with unfamiliar glee. Maidens in the hallways have to leap aside to avoid her, but she does not care, for once ignoring the standards her mother had instilled in her. If her sisters could be chaotic, we couldn’t she?

So she follows the thread, eagerly, without even wondering why it was so loose. No, she didn’t think about the implications of the situation. In her mind, it did not matter why her soulmate was finally within her reach, it simply mattered that they were. Soon enough they would be in her arms, safe, with nothing else to bother them. And then she’d be happy, finally having someone she was on equal terms with. Finally having someone to confide in, to cherish, to whisper sweet nothings to in the dead of the night.

She doesn’t hesitate until she finds the string wrapped around the door to the basement. At last the signs click together in her mind, like a conspiracy board bound with crimson ties. Instantly panic replaces whatever excitement she had been feeling. Then she’s abandoning all sense of caution, throwing open the door and rushing forward, dispersing into a swarm to cover more ground. Even if she could no longer see the thread in this form, she was certain that she’d know exactly who her soulmate was when she saw them.

And, well, she does. Something calls her to the far corner of the main room, where a body was suspended from the ceiling by its hands. An all-too-familiar needle was sticking out of the person’s arm, leading down to a large glass container, which was slowly filling with blood. The scent made Bela’s nostrils flare, and her eyes go wide, but she did her best to fight against her instincts. Quickly she gets to her knees, examining the jar to see how full it was. Most of the measurement lines were faded, having been worn out over time, making it harder to estimate the volume. In the end, Bela guessed that the container could fit just over six liters inside. Which meant that the person had lost close to… two and a half. That was bad- behind bad, really. Horrible, actually. Immediately life threatening to the point of having been life threatening before Bela had even woken up.

“Don’t die on me, please,” she half cried half shouted, jumping into action as best as she knew how. Not even bothering to turn the nozzle on the device, she pulls the needle out of her soulmate’s arm, cursing when more blood rushes out of the hole. Then she’s applying pressure, hard as she can, beyond glad that they weren’t awake for this. One hand goes to tear a piece of fabric off of their shirt. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind, all things considered. Next, Bela ties the cloth around the collection point, making less of a tourniquet and more of a generic bandage. “Shit, you need a transfusion, don’t you?... Fuck, fuck, what’s your blood type?”

Knowing that she wouldn’t be getting a verbal answer any time soon, Bela settled for dipping a finger into the jar, bringing it to her lips, and licking. The difference in taste among blood types was subtle, but she was nothing if not a professional at this point. Still, the type is not immediately clear to her, and she knows that she might have to go around licking more blood from other prisoners. Unless… could someone receive a transfusion of their own blood? Such a thing had never happened at the castle before, but there was a first time for everything.

“Hold on, I’ll figure this out, somehow, I promise,” Bela said, gently taking her patient’s hand in her own. Taking your hand.

When you wake, you find yourself among the softest sheets you have ever felt, as if laying on clouds themselves. But your vision is blurred, and your head is besieged by waves of pain. A whimper makes its way past your lips. For a moment all you can do is tense up, unsure of any detail of your situation, unable to discern anything around you. Then you feel a hand on your own, squeezing gently. Something about it sends a rush of comfort throughout your entire body. Still, you are more confused than anything, and you find yourself trying to sit up out of instinct.

Without warning the hand lets you go, only for the owner to shift their weight, climbing on top of you in an instant. They’re holding you down, saying words that don’t quite reach your ears. For how light they are, they manage to put an impressive amount of pressure on you, easily rendering you immobile. Unfortunately, this position does little to ease your anxiety. The last thing you could remember was a very, very tall lady sticking a needle in your arm with a cruel laugh. Based on how you felt, there was still a needle in your arm. But you had been standing, or hanging, before, and now you were on your back.

“Whathe… wha the ‘ell… can’t 'hink,” you muttered, stumbling over your own tongue. Whoever sits on top of you tries to comfort you, running a hand through your hair. “Who are you?” You asked, even though you couldn’t understand a word this person said. Their voice might as well have been in another language, with the way your addled brain processed it. Had you lost too much blood? Or maybe you had a concussion? “I just. I just wanted to meet them. Please, I jus… I just wanna see my soulmate.”

Again, you cannot understand what the person says in response, but they finally seem to understand this. One of their hands reaches out and grabs your left one, slowly tapping your fingers, one by one. When they reach your ring finger, they pause, gently holding it. For a few moments you’re left even more confused. Then, with a surge of warmth in your chest, the dots are connected. Whoever is with you quietly grabs the thread attached to your finger, before tugging gently. In order for them to do that… well, there was only one explanation. They were your soulmate. They were the one you had gone to this accursed castle to meet. Somehow they had saved you, and everything was finally looking up.

Mind clearing slowly, you’re finally able to understand something they- or she, as far as you can tell- say.

“Rest now, my beloved. You are safe in my care, this I promise.”

#bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #brought to you by this enby and their criminal hands #this is shorter than most of my chapters but its also a bonus #so take what you can get my dudes #pls enjoy

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jisungsmochi · 4 years ago

Text

i’ve got this friend - mark lee

based on the (unreleased) song by 5SOS

neighbour & friend! mark + a very oblivious y/n (female)

word count: 1.7k

summary: after a rumour stirs that you have a secret admirer, your neighbour and friend, mark lee begins to drop some, not so subtle, clues on who it might be. will his mission be a success?

mark hated lee haechan more than anything in the world right now. the little menace decided to spread the rumour that you had a secret admirer. mark was in panic mode, wanting nothing more than to roll up in a ball and cry.

“what the hell, man? what if she finds out?” mark groaned, holding the bridge of his nose, as haechan continued to giggle.

“would that be so bad? you’ve been pining over her since you became neighbours. isn’t it time for you to finally tell her how you feel?”

“what if she’s disappointed?” haechan immediately stopped laughing, furrowing his eyebrows at his glum faced friend.

“but what if she’s over the moon? you always look for the bad in these situations. you’re confessing to her, you have to” mark knew inside that he was partially right. it had been almost two years since he developed a friendship with you. although you weren’t attached to the hip, you were both friendly towards eachother and spent a fair amount of time together. haechan claimed he had a fool proof plan to ‘get the girl’ so let the games begin...

“hey! y/n, wait up” mark caught up with you as you exited your house.

“oh goodmorning mark” you smiled as you walked over to him, continuing to walk alongside him on your way to school.

“i gotta tell you something” he looks away from you, eyes drawn to the ground. you silently urge him to continue,

“i heard that someone likes you”

you immediately stop in your tracks, your face contorting into confusion yet also, excitement.

“really? do you know who it is?” you trailed slowly behind him, he didn’t even notice you had stopped briefly.

“uh yeah, i’ve got this friend, he doesn’t really want me to tell you who he is yet” you felt your heart sink, is this all some sick prank?

“mark, you don’t have to feed into these rumours-“

“no i’m being serious, you have an admirer” he softly smiled, making you feel slightly more at ease. mark had never lied to you before, why would he start now? you decided not to pry him anymore, wanting to keep this to yourself for the time being. of course you were curious as to who it was, but maybe keeping their identity hidden is giving them the courage to contact you eventually. you were hopeful, and so was mark. he wanted nothing more than for you to make your way to him.

“so is there anything else you wanna tell me about said admirer? is he tall? do i know him?” you begin to become impatient as you sat across from mark at your usual lunch table.

“um he’s kinda my size? i guess. you might know him, he does go to our school” you begin to turn around, scanning your eyes over the courtyard.

“don’t look now! he might be looking” mark hurriedly spoke, not thinking about his words.

“oh so he’s close to where we are?” you grew even more curious than before. you were going to get mark lee to crack, it was the only way.

‘oh fuck’ he thought to himself. what is he going to do now?

“mark, it’s honestly killing me! you really can’t tell me who he is? is he really that shy? or am i just intimidating?” you frown as you sit on mark’s couch in his basement. he invited you over sometimes whenever he was bored and needed someone to go over some of his song ideas with. mark was in a band with some of his close friends, they didn’t really have a proper name yet, and had barely played infront of people.

“you’re not intimidating at all! you’re one of the kindest people i know” he quickly jumps to your defence. he hesitates for a moment before continuing,

“well he plays the bass guitar, and oh! he thinks you would like him better if he had a car, kinda feels like a loser for not having one” your mind begins to wind, who do you know that can play bass and has no car...

well jeno was the official bassist of their band...and you remember him complaining at one of their practices that he was late because he had to take the bus. but really? did lee jeno have a crush on you? that seemed unrealistic. you barely had any interactions with him, only greeting him nicely whenever you tuned in to their practices. was mark trying to set you guys up or something?

“is it someone from your band?” mark froze, not expecting you to catch on so quickly. (not like he was being so discrete either)

“uh maybe, maybe not. i don’t know” he begins to ramble.

“i’m beginning to think you’re playing some weird prank on me, mark lee. i hope whoever this guy is, comes to me soon. the suspense is killing me!” and with that, mark knew he needed to speed up the plan.

“you gotta tell her soon, your stupid clues are probably making her stressed. and why the hell do you wanna make her stressed?!” haechan gave the older boy a hard smack on the back of the head.

“look, we need a new plan, asap”

“no shit, you’re lucky i’m the damage control” haechan huffed, putting on his figurative thinking cap.

“aha! you’re going to write her a song” mark raised an eyebrow at the younger boy as if he was insane, he can’t write a song in a day, not even a week sometimes.

“not an actual song! just a little snippet of a song describing your feelings, since you can’t seem to say it to her straight out. it’s a brilliant idea and you should thank me” mark understood where he was coming from. maybe if he sat you down, with his guitar and sang to you, it wouldn’t be as awkward or pressuring. lee haechan was in fact a genius.

“mark? it’s like 1am, what do you need me for?” you groan from your side of the phone call.

“i need to get something off my chest, meet me at the park in 10” part of you wanted to hang up and fall back asleep, but another part of you was curious as to why mark lee needed you so late in the night. you dressed yourself in a warm puffer jacket before making your way to the playground across from your and mark’s houses.

you saw him sitting on one of the swings, his guitar tucked close to him, his fingers strumming to a random tune.

“this better be good” you sigh, taking a seat on the swing next to him.

“the reason i asked you to come out here is because i haven’t been completely honest with you. i don’t want you to say anything until the song is done, it would really save me the embarrassment” he warned, making you slightly nervous. he took a deep breath, eyes focused on the strings of the guitar, before he began to play.

[ *cue ‘i’ve got this friend’ by 5sos hehe]

“I've got this friend who's crazy about you

I've got this friend who can't be without you

I've got this friend and I wish I could see

See what you'd say if I told you it was me

I want to tell you to see what you'd say

Before I jump in and I ask for that date

I've been that friend

I've been that friend and I wish I could see

How this would end if you knew it was me?”

your heart melted at each lyric. mark lee had been that ‘friend’ all along. the mark that always waited for you to walk to school together. the mark that always brought you home bubble tea when you were feeling down. the mark that always invited you over just because he enjoyed the company. it was him. it was always him.

you felt tears begin to fill your eyes, causing mark to place his guitar down and stand across from you, holding your shoulders gently.

“d-did i say something wrong? did i mess things up? i’m so sorry, y/n. i should have come clean so-“

“no mark, i’m not mad or sad! i’m just really overwhelmed. here i was thinking that this was all some silly joke when the whole time, you were my admirer” you slightly sniffled at the last part, making mark’s heart swoon. he wiped a tear that fell from your eye, as you leant into his warm palm.

“i don’t need you to say you like me back or anything, i just couldn’t go on with life without you knowing”

“i understand. and trust me, i’ve always seen you as my cute next door neighbour. and honestly, i’d be lying if i said that i haven’t thought about dating you” you felt heat rise to your cheeks, hoping he wouldn’t notice due to the cold.

“but all those clues! it must have been so entertaining to watch me struggle with piecing it all together! everything makes sense now, except for the bass guitar one. i thought you were just the lead guitarist?” you furrowed your eyebrows as mark began to chuckle.

“i kinda slipped up there, i can play both guitar and bass. i was actually the initial bassist of the band until we found jeno” mark explained, making you feel even more stupid.

“gosh, there i was thinking that jeno was my admirer” you saw mark begin to frown, causing you to stand and face him.

“but don’t worry about him, all my attention and focus will be on you now!” you smiled with glee, watching as mark copied your expression. he leaned down close to you, placing a small peck to your cheek, his breath slowly fanning your cheeks.

“so what do you say? go on a date with me?”

“of course, tell your little ‘friend’ he finally got the girl” you pulled him into a warm embrace, feeling him melt in your arms.

it was safe to say that you and mark didn’t remain friends for much longer.

#mark lee imagine #mark imagine #nct mark imagine #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct fic #mark lee fic #mark lee fluff #nct mark fluff #nct mark scenario #nct dream scenario #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagine #nct writing #jisungsmochi masterlist #jisungsmochiimagines

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Acts of Devotion

👀 i um 👉 👈 i hope this is okay...

Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

TW blood, gore, violence, murder, dub con, nsfw

Akaashi loves you.

He’s known that for a long time now, probably from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, back when you were both just wide eyed first year uni students, wildly out of your depths.

A lot’s changed since then. For one, he now gets to call you his, and it’s his arms that you return to at the end of a long day, his house that you both live in. It’d be a lie to say that it doesn’t bother him that he wasn’t your first love, but he’s contented himself with the knowledge that he’ll be your last. Your only great love.

The only one that matters.

But it hasn’t been without its challenges. He’s learned a lot about love since those early days, about what it means to truly devote yourself to somebody, to give everything you have for them.

Love essentially boils down to two things, Akaashi’s come to realise - sacrifice, and forgiveness.

You always look so beautiful when you’re sleeping. Of course, Akaashi thinks you’re beautiful all the time; when you’re smiling and laughing, when your face is screwed up in petulant anger, when those pretty eyes of yours well with tears and they glimmer and shine - but there’s something about the peaceful expression, so soft and unguarded when you’re asleep that inexplicably draws him in.

There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to stay, to reach out and brush away the hair that’s fallen across your face, pull you closer and let sleep drag him under, but he can’t.

Not tonight.

Instead he cranes his neck to press a kiss against your lips, a small smile tugging at his lips when you let out a quiet mewl in response. He loves you so, so much… that’s why he has to do this.

He’d forgive you anything. You know that, don’t you?

Sure, it hurt him when he found the messages. Scrolling back through your text history, it was like somebody had grabbed him by the throat and plunged a knife into his gut, twisting it for good measure.

Kaito i don’t know what to do

i love him but lately it feels like idk he’s being a little controlling i guess?

… but maybe i’m just being paranoid?

He knows it’s not entirely your fault. For all the amazing qualities you possess, you are remarkably naive and so very, very impressionable - which worked to his favour in the beginning, he’ll be the first to admit, but now…

Now it’s becoming a problem.

You haven’t realised yet that everything Akaashi’s doing - it’s all for your own good.

Your family wanted you under their thumb. They always asked too much of you, guilt tripped you whenever you tried to stand up for yourself or set boundaries. They’d never be happy for you, not truly. It hurts, he knows that, but some people don’t deserve to be in your life, especially when they treat you like that.

Your job was causing you stress, and your boss was an arrogant, nasty piece of work. His salary is more than enough to support you both, why put yourself through that if you don’t need to? Aren’t you happier now that you don’t have to trudge into that office every day and pretend that it isn’t making you miserable?

Your friends were bad influences. Jealous of your relationship for one, but they were also petty, self absorbed and vapid, always trying to drag you down to their level so you wouldn’t ever outshine them. You’re better off without them, why can’t you see that?

Akaashi’s the only one you’ll ever need.

And he really thought that he’d solved that little problem, but apparently not. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that out of all of them, Kaito’s the one who’s been the hardest to shake. An old friend of yours from high school, Akaashi had known within five minutes of meeting him that he was head over heels in love with you and had been for a long, long time.

He can’t blame him for that. You’re beautiful. Perfect. Entirely his. It’s painfully obvious that even before he came into the picture to sweep you off your feet, you’d never so much as looked twice at the guy. So Akaashi was more or less content to let his somewhat pitiful one sided crush on you slide. Considering that he had absolutely no intentions of letting him or any of your other friends remain part of your life for much longer, it was hardly worth wasting energy thinking about.

Until, that is, he read the messages that Kaito’s been sending you.

Leave him

I’m serious.

My sister had a friend who was with a guy like that. She had to get a restraining order because he wouldn’t let her go - it got scary… You can come stay with me. I don’t want you getting hurt :(

It’s that last one that bothers him. Not the attempts to lure you away from him under the guise of being a safe haven from your ‘dangerous’ boyfriend, painting himself as your knight in shining armour - mildly irritating if not a little amusing - but for putting the idea in your head that Akaashi would ever hurt you.

That he can’t forgive.

He won’t have you look at him with fear in your eyes.

Akaashi’s never tried to deny that side of himself, but he’s kept it from you, locked it away and buried it deep. The things he does… you’re too pure for that. He loves you, loves the way that your eyes still soften when you catch sight of him, the warm, trusting naivety that bleeds out of your every pore. If you knew what the hands that caressed you so gently had done, would you still beg for his touch?

You wouldn’t, he knows that just as he knows that even if you were to uncover the truth, he wouldn’t let you go. He can’t, you’re his.

Is it really so selfish of him to want to preserve that innocent naivety?

But it seems like now he’ll have to indulge once again, and Akaashi, really, truly can’t say that it bothers him. Killing other people has always thrilled him, made the blood in his veins race… Killing other people for you, oh, that’s going to be a whole other level of pleasure he can’t wait to explore.

The pads of his fingers trace the curve of your jaw for just a moment. “Back soon,” he whispers, gracing your cheek with a feather light kiss.

You’ve never asked why the door to the basement locks from both sides, he doesn’t even think you realise that the walls are soundproofed. Tonight he’s grateful. You won’t wake up, he’s almost positive of that, but Akaashi has no desire to be gone from your side for any longer than absolutely necessary.

He usually prefers to take his time.

His first kill was more of an accident than anything else, there was too much blood, he panicked and it was over in the blink of an eye. There wasn’t time to savour it, to really enjoy the sight of the light leaving their eyes, the weak, desperate struggles and whimpers, the tantalising fear that inevitably bleeds into the air, growing more potent by the second - even the strongest break eventually. He’s learned since then how to draw it out, how to have fun with his work.

But he doesn’t have that luxury tonight, and, as he keeps having to remind himself, this isn’t about his pleasure.

Guns are quick. Messy. Akaashi’s never really taken a liking to the crude, graceless weapon. He prefers his knives.

Waving a gun in somebody’s face gives them the idea that they’re going to die, and there are only so many times that you can shoot somebody before they just… bleed out. It’s not nearly as satisfying a death. A knife, on the other hand, brings with it more opportunities. It isn’t death that his victim becomes worried about, at least not initially, but pain. And as his hand glides over his collection, Akaashi decides that Kaito is due for a little pain.

I love him, you’d texted. I love him. I love him. I love him.

That’s what he’s trying to protect.

Long, pale fingers wrap around the handle of his chef’s knife, (eight inches, sharp - a familiar, comforting weight in his hand) and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

Kaito’s mouth is taped shut. Akaashi doesn’t want to hear a filthy word out of those lips. His hands are bound behind his back, his ankles tied to the old, wooden chair. He’s good with his knots, the more Kaito struggles, the tighter they pull. And judging from the ugly, purpling shade of his hands and the tears leaking from bloodshot eyes, he’s been struggling for a while.

Good.

Akaashi smiles as he strolls towards his captive audience, fingering the straight edge of the knife. Kaito doesn’t try to speak, but the muffled whines and sobs grow louder with every step closed between them. The fear and tension in the air is palpable.

His breath is little more than a frantic wheezing by the time Akaashi stops in front of him and drops into a crouch. Cool, gunmetal blue eyes meet Kaito’s deep brown ones, blown wide with terror.

“I’m not the monster you think I am,” he admits quietly.

Looking up at him from beneath long, dark lashes, a faint smile on his lips, Akaashi could almost pass for an angel if not for the gleaming kitchen knife in his hand. Kaito pales, his entire body going taut as his gaze slides from Akaashi’s face to the gleaming blade in his hand. He shakes his head in desperation, another muffled scream escaping his gag-

Akaashi strikes fast, like a viper. The blade plunges into the meat of Kaito’s thigh and without an ounce of mercy, Akaashi yanks it back towards his knee.

The scream that rips through the air sends a pleasurable shiver of warmth down his spine, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he feels the muscles beneath him convulse. The gash isn’t too long, maybe a few inches, but it’s deep and Akaashi’s smirk only grows as warm blood gushes from the wound, coating his hand in slick vermilion.

He tugs the knife free, rewarded with another choked howl from his captive as more blood sprays. Bound to the chair, there’s not a whole lot of room for Kaito to move, but it’s somewhat amusing to watch him try to thrash, escape the white hot agony radiating from his thigh through his entire body. It’s hard for the human body to comprehend that level of pain, and from experience, Akaashi’s well aware that it won’t take long for his body to go into shock and simply shut down from the blood loss, and once that happens, he won’t be of much use to anyone.

Kaito’s trembling, face pale, his skin clammy. Impossibly black pupils swallow his irises whole, erratically tracking his captor’s every movement as Akaashi pushes himself to his feet and takes a moment to study him. Tears and bubbles of snot leak in a disgusting mix down his jaw, dripping onto his lap as he sobs against his bindings. It’s pitiful, seeing a man reduced to a whimpering, terrified wreck, but as the hand still holding his knife grips at his chin and yanks his face closer, Akaashi can’t help but gleefully drink it all in.

Your would be knight in shining armour doesn’t look quite so strong and capable now, does he?

Akaashi doesn’t have much time left to make him suffer, but he can’t seem to resist trailing his fingers along Kaito’s injured leg, digging them deep into the ruined muscle - grinning wildly when he convulses and screams, arching up off the chair.

There’s still so much that he’d like to do. He toys with the idea of taking his tongue, of carving his knife deep into his skin just to watch him whimper and bleed… but no. This isn’t about indulgence. This is about you. He has to have more discipline than that.

Dangling on the edge of consciousness, Kaito meets his gaze one last time. Maybe he senses that his death is close, or maybe he’s just searching for a last minute reprieve, mercy from the cold blooded killer before him. Terrified, agonised, delirious from the blood loss, he tries to speak - a plea, he thinks, or maybe just incomprehensible babbling, but his eyes burn into Akaashi’s, desperate and hollow.

Akaashi’s never been one for theatrics. He won’t waste more time monologuing while your friend clings to the last vestiges of life. If Kaito hasn’t guessed by now the reasons he’s ended up here, at Akaashi’s mercy, he’s far less intelligent than he gave him credit for, but he supposes that he owes him something, at least.

“I love her,” he says with a small shrug, as if it explains everything.

And maybe it does.

It hardly matters though, as Akaashi decides to finally end it with a vicious slice across his throat. Blood sprays like a fountain, splattering across the room and drenching him, Kaito’s body slumps in his seat, the last flicker of life slowly snuffing out, and Akaashi revels in the pure, sweet euphoria that floods his system.

He’s never killed anybody while you were home with him before. Normally he’s methodical, quick to clean up whatever mess is left behind. Tonight though, Akaashi doesn’t have the patience for all that.

He should at least take a shower, rid himself of the blood that soaked him to the skin, but the call of your arms, the sweet, soft floral scent he longs to drown himself in beckoning is too hard to resist. He sheds his clothes, casting them aside haphazardly along with the bloody knife as he stalks down the hallway to the bedroom. His heart is still racing, excitement drumming through his veins as he crawls onto the bed and slides the covers off of you.

Dimly, he registers that this is a monumentally bad idea, but all he can think about is the vivid memory of the light leaving Kaito’s eyes and you. Tonight, he killed for you, and it was exhilarating.

He doesn’t think he could stop himself even if he wanted to, and why would he want to?

You’re perfect, beautiful - his. Nothing and nobody will ever be able to separate the two of you, he’ll kill anybody who tries.

You stir a little as Akaashi’s lips graze along your skin, his fingers sliding the silk of your nightgown up over your hips.

“‘Kaashi?” you sleepily murmur, trying to blink heavy eyelids open.

He wonders if you can feel the way his bloodstained hands are trembling as they ease your supple thighs apart. “Shh, baby,” he presses a kiss against your leg as he manoeuvres himself between them, “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”

Let me take care of you.

He needs this.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere akaashi #yandere akaashi keiji #yandere akaashi keiji x reader #tw blood #tw violence #tw murder #slasher-ish vibes #tw dub con #just a little #not super proof read because it's 3:30 in the morning

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flourgirl · 4 years ago

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Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you.

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time.

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.”

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

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

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it.

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face.

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

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

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you.

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat.

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.”

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

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

You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad.

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

��I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

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

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.”

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before.

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore.

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

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

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished.

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

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

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

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

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions.

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. ��You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

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

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

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

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago.

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

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

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 4 years ago

Text

Grey Socks

This apart came around quicker then I had expected and I’am working slowly on the next part, which I’ am excited about. Slightly based on season 3 but with my own twist. Shout out to my Bishop Beta @beccabarba for reading over it, thank you always lovely.

*Grey Leather*

*Grey Uniform*

*Grey Dress*

*Grey Vase*

*Grey Blanket*

*Grey Jeans*

Warnings: “What the f**k Steve” moment, swearing and of course smut.

WC: 2549

Enjoy x

The sun was starting to go down and a cold snap started sweeping through making your body cover in goose bumps. You picked up your grey socks from next to you, pulling them on your feet and wrapped a blanket around you, lifting your feet up to rest on the wooden rail of the porch. The silence that surrounded you should have comforted you, but it was so loud it was deafening. You watched as the waves crashed on the sand as the sun went down, when your burner cell started to ring,

“Hey Baby” Bishop’s voice came over the other end of the phone “You ok?”

“Hey babe. I’ am ok” you sighed. “You ok”?”

“I’ am ok. I promise, baby, not much longer. I miss you”

“I miss you too, so much. I’ am sorry I couldn’t be there with you today,” a tear rolled down you cheek and you sniffed.

“Don’t cry baby, it’s ok. Wish you were here.” You could only nod and you wiped the tears away with the back of your hand. “As soon as everything is sorted I’ll be up there to get you. Bring you home to me. I love you Y/N”

“Love you too.”

You hung up the phone just as Steve and Gabby walked out the back door carrying bowls of Chilli Con Carne and fresh bread that you and Gabby made earlier.

There was an all-out war with the club and things had started to get too close to home. You had ended up in tears when Bishop had ask you to get out of town with Gabby. It was lucky you had a lot of long service leave up your sleeve; Bishop had asked you to use a month. Rosa moved to her sister’s place just out of town for now and you had paid for your parents to go and stay with your Aunty and Uncle in New York for the same amount of time you were away, telling them they needed a break.

You packed everything that was important to you, locking it in your parent’s basement, and packed enough clothes to last. Bishop didn’t want you to leave the beach house at all. You and Bishop come to an agreement to shut off your social media and to turn off and leave your phone at home. He bought you and himself a burner cell to keep in contact, and Taza moved you and Gabby to a safe house. The club left Steve with you both just in case.

You had pretty much eaten dinner in silence, Gabby getting a call from Ez not long before your call from Bishop, both your eyes puffy from crying. It had been 3 and half weeks, you just wanted to go home. Steve took the plates inside and was tidying up, you sitting back on the day bed, feet up on the rail listening to the ocean when Gabby walked back out with a cup of tea for you and herself, sitting down next to you. You pulled the blanket off your shoulders and draped it over both your laps. You took a sip of your tea and you almost spat it out with how sweet it was,

“You ok?” Gabby looked at you worried.

“Who made the tea?”

“Steve, why?”

“What the fuck Steve! How many sugars did you put in it?”

“Sorry Y/N”

You and Gabby had a little giggle and then both fell silent, the sound of the waves filling the air again.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you looked at Gabby who was staring out into the darkness.

“Can we do this for the rest of our lives? Being in love with men that put us in this kind of situation. Marry them? Have children with them? Have a future with them?”

“You love Ez?” You asked. Gabby nodded “He treats you well?” Gabby nodded again “What else is there to think about? He isn’t a bad man. Ez is amazing, he will be an amazing husband and father.”

“You grew up with him?”

“I did. Our families are close friends. Gabby- don’t give up on him just because of the club. They are all good men. We all have two sides, they just can’t hide their other side like the rest of us can.”

“You love Bishop a lot” Gabby grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

“I do. He is the best thing that has happened to me. Even if I’ am in hiding because of him” you both giggled “No one said it was going to be easy, but really is any relationship?”

Gabby let go of your hand and lent over hugging you when revs of motor bikes ripped through the air and you both gasped, jumping up, fear pulsing through you, and running to the door just as Steve opened it walking out carrying a baseball bat,

“Get inside. Lock the doors”

“Steve” you grabbed his arm tears coming to your eyes.

“I’ll be fine. You know what to do. Go please”

You ran inside locking the doors behind you grabbing the baseball bat from next to the fridge and coming back to stand next to the door, Gabby huddled into your side,

“Go upstairs and hide in my room. If anything happens go through the doors to the balcony, climb down, run and call Ez. Just like we talked about,” Gabby nodded her eyes filled with tears as she ran up the stairs two at a time.

“Fuck Steve” you heard Ez’s voice “It’s just us”

Rage bolted through you. You unlocked the door, baseball bat still in hand storming out seeing Ez and Bishop walking up the stairs. You raised your eye brows at them and Bishop could see on your face that you were pissed,

“What the actual fuck?” you spat at them both “A heads up would have been nice” You pointed the end of the baseball bat at Ez’s chest “Do you have any idea what you just done to us?” you snarled. Ez held his hands up in surrender and a smirk on his face “Don’t smirk at me Ezekiel”

Ez pushed the bat away, it dropping out of your hand to the ground out of the way and he wrapped you in his arm kissing the top of your head, “Maybe we should patch you in, you’re scarier than Steve,” the 3 men laughed,

“Yeah she is actually” Steve blurted out and you rolled your eyes.

“Where’s Gabby?” Ez looked down at you.

“Hiding upstairs waiting to climb down off the balcony”

You pulled away from Ez poking your head inside the door yelling out to Gabby it was safe and Ez walked in followed by Steve. You turned around to Bishop standing on the second step down from the top. You rushed over to him wrapping your arms around him, his around you and he nuzzled his face into your chest while your fingers ran through his hair, scraping your nails over his sculp. Bishop pulled back slightly looking up at you. You dipped your head catching his lips with yours, kissing him deeply. Without breaking the kiss Bishop pushed you back stepping up to be level with you. Bishop finally broke the kiss, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks leaning his forehead on yours,

“I’ve missed you baby, so much. I’ am sorry we scared you. I wanted to surprise you”

“Surprise is an understatement” you giggled “I missed you too”

“It’s all fixed baby, I can take you home” Bishop’s lips came up to kiss your forehead “Got any beer around here?”

You went to the fridge grabbing a couple of bottles. You gave one to Steve who was sitting on the couch watching TV, giving him a kiss on the cheek thanking him for looking after you and Gabby. You picked up the other two bottles walking up stairs to find Bishop. Gabby and Ez locked away in her room. As you walked into your bedroom you seen the sliding doors open and Bishop was sitting on the double seater outdoor couch and you walked out to him,

“Here babe” you handed Bishop a beer.

“Thank you baby” He grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it and then patted his thigh so you would sit down.

You sat across Bishop’s lap, one of his arms going around your middle and his other that was holding the beer resting across your legs. Your hand that was around his shoulder’s came up to run your fingers over the nape of his neck and he sighed into your touch,

“You ok?” you whispered.

“Better now I’ am with you. I missed you baby”

“Missed you too” you lent down, your lips connecting with his.

The kiss started soft and tender and soon turned heated when Bishop’s hand that was around your middle started to slide up your back and into your hair pushing your head into him more deepening the kiss. You swallowed each other’s groans and whimpers. Without breaking the kiss Bishop reached behind, with his other hand sitting his bottle of beer on the table behind the couch and then did the same to yours.

Once both bottles where on the table, Bishop started to run his hand up your thigh and up under your shirt. His big warm rough hand ran up over your skin up to your breast groping it through your bra. You arched into his touch, your hand now threaded up into his hair and your other running over his solid chest down between you both to cup his hard cock through his jeans.

You broke the kiss and moved yourself to straddle his lap, both your hands resting on his bearded cheeks as your lips collided with his again, the kiss all teeth and tongues. You started to roll yours hips down on Bishop and you heard a growl rattle through his chest. You pulled back from the kiss giggling at his reaction, wrapping your arms around his neck peppering his face with kisses, both of Bishop’s hands rubbing the tops of your thighs and up your sides.

“I missed your noises,” You brushed your nose over his and he chuckled low.

You rolled your hips over Bishop again, your lips crashing on his once more, kissing him deeply. Bishop gripped your ass cheeks tight, pulling you down on him as he grunted into your mouth bucking up into you.

You reached down between you both undoing his jean button and zipper sliding your hand into his boxers pulling out his hard length wrapping your hand around him giving him a couple of quick pumps up and down. Bishop pulled back from the kiss, his head falling back with his eyes closed and mouth slightly open groaning. You lent forward kissing around his neck and he bucked up into your hand.

“Missed this?” you grazed your teeth over his bearded chin.

“Fuck yes” Bishop grunted.

You moved away to stand and pushed down your tights and panties, them hitting the floor and you stepped out of them. Bishop wrapped his hand around himself, stroking his hard cock lazily, looking up at you with hooded eyes as he watched you pull your shirt and bra off throwing them on the floor. You sat back on his lap, the coolness of his fully clothed body made you shiver when it met your hot skin and when your sensitive nipples brush over the rough cotton of his shirt, you rolled your hips down again, brushing your core over his jeans and you bit your bottom lip wanting more.

You lifted yourself up slightly lining Bishop to you moving to slid down on him, your wet centre wrapping around him. You paused for a moment to catch your breath. Bishop made quick work pulling off his leather vest and undoing a couple of his shirt buttons pulling it up and over his head, followed by his under shirt, throwing them on the floor leaving him bare chested. You wrapped your arms back around Bishop’s neck, your hands going into his hair, your boobs resting on his chest and he lent forward, his lips landing on your skin leaving a trail of open mouth kisses, his beard running along your skin made you groan as he went and you rolled your hips over him fast, he bucking up into you hard.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” Bishop breathed into your skin before looking up to lock eyes with you, both his arms wrapping around your middle pulling you down on him harder as he bucked up into you.

“You feel amazing babe” you breathed out before you dipped your head kissing him deeply, your tongues rolling together.

You broke the kiss, your forehead resting on his as your release raced through you and you had to remember not to scream so the others didn’t hear you. You choked out Bishop’s name and you rolled your hips through your high when Bishop bucked up hard grunting, his seed spilling into you and his head dropping back on the couch breathless. You stilled your movements, the smell of salty air taking over the smell of sex and your heavy breathing almost as loud as the crashing waves.

Bishop cupped your cheeks and pulled you towards him, his lips landing on yours for another deep kiss. You got up off him and walked to grab a blanket off the bed to wrap around you both as you both snuggled into each other on the couch, Bishop’s arm wrapped around you, his hand brushing through your hair as you rested on his shoulder,

“Baby, I want to ask you something” Bishop felt you go stiff against him and he tightened his grip around you and kissed the top of your head “Nothing bad”

“Ok, I’ am listening” You sat back slightly looking over up at him.

“I want you to move in with me” a grin pulled across your face “I have spoken to your Dad and Mum they gave us their blessing and Rosa is moving into the granny flat next door at the end of the month”

You looked out into the dark letting that all sink in as Bishop ran his hand up and down your back over the blanket,

“There is no granny flat next door” you looked up at him raising an eye brow.

“Will be at the end of the month” Bishop smirked at you and you nodded.

“You managed all this in-between everything else going on?”

“No. I started the ball rolling before all this shit happened. Your stuff can be moved into my place when we get back and Rosa has moved in with Coco till the end of the month”

“What if I say no?” you smirked at him with your eye brows raised and he laughed loud.

“Emily said you could move in with her” you both laughed and you nudged his side scoffing “If you don’t-“

“No” you almost shouted “I want to. I never want to be away from you again” you smiled reaching up to rest your hand on his cheek “I can’t wait for you to come home to me every night”

“Me too baby, me too.”

Tags: @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @withmyteeth

#bishop losa #bishop losa x you #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa smut #bishop losa x #mayans mc #mayans fanfic #mayans smut

116 notes · View notes

gureishi · 4 years ago

Note

Your writing is amazing, and all those prompts are great! :) Could I request number 17 for Saeyoung with a female MC? Hurt/Comfort, and NSFW, please. Thank you so much, have a great day!

THANK YOU! <3

So here, let me tell you what happened...

I looked at this prompt and I thought about Saeyoung (let’s be real, I’m always thinking about Saeyoung) and my brain screamed CABIN, CABIN, and I realized...oh my god, in all the thousands of words of Saeyoung X Reader fanfiction I’ve written, I’ve somehow never written my version of their (probably) canon first time.

So I DID IT! And it’s long af cause...well, of course it is.

seventeen: i came here for sanctuary

Saeyoung X Reader, E (M/F sex), words: 6930 (!!)

Smut warning, proceed with caution ♡

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The sun sinks behind the trees, the last streaks of yellow melting from the sky. Gravel crunches beneath the sleek little car’s wheels as it slows to a stop. The only light is from the phone in your hand—you can’t see anything outside the windows but dark, dark, dark.

“Wait,” Saeyoung whispers. “Just a minute.”

He turns off the car and without its rumbling the silence feels louder. You sit absolutely still and your heart pounds.

Saeyoung holds out his hand and, wordlessly, you pass him his phone. He pulls up a new GPS, one you don’t know how to read; zooms in; breathes a sigh of relief.

“Okay,” he says, louder. “We’re safe here.”

With that, he flings open the door, and you realize you must have absolute trust in him after all as you follow suit, stepping out into the unknown.

Outside, you can see a little more. There’s no moon tonight, but the stars are huge here, and by their light you make your way around the car, stand beside Saeyoung as he opens the trunk. He passes your backpack to you and slings the other, larger bag over his shoulder. He does this quickly, quietly, as if it’s a routine. Finding a safe house in the dark, unpacking the car in silence—for him, you suppose, it is a routine.

“Um, maybe we should—” He hesitates, awkwardly holds out a hand to you. You grin.

“Do you still need an excuse to hold my hand?” You slip your hand into his larger, warmer one, and he interlaces his fingers with yours.

“I’ll take any excuse I can get,” he says, winking, and you feel calmer. You’d follow this man to the ends of the earth, you think.

Hand-in-hand, you walk up the gravel path. You can see now that he’s parked beside a smallish cabin—it looks built by hand, the kind you’ve seen in reality shows (“fashionable young couple leaves it all behind for a rustic cabin in the woods!”) You weren’t sure things like this existed. Of course they do, you tell yourself. Stupid.

Saeyoung pulls a ring of keys you’ve never seen before out of the side pocket of his bag and spins it around, inserting a little, unlabelled key into the door. You raise your eyebrows.

“Come here often?”

He laughs and the sound warms you up from the inside: you loved his laugh the very first time you heard it, what feels like a lifetime ago. You love the way he giggles when you tease him and the way he cackles when he’s proud of himself and the way he laughs like this—bubbly, like he finds everything you do and say impossibly delightful.

“It’s actually an old agency hideout,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea at first, but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s been here for years.”

He pushes the door open and you follow him inside; you’re immediately hit by a wave of cold and a damp, musky scent. You don’t mind it—it reminds you of the basement of the home you lived in as a child.

“I think there’s…somewhere around here…” He pushes ahead, muttering to himself, and you wait in the doorway, keeping it cracked so he can see by the lights of the stars. “Ah-ha!” A dim light flickers on.

Saeyoung sighs, turning around to survey the room.

“This isn’t a place for someone like you,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the furnishings—it’s a single room, with an out-of-use fireplace and some boxes full of you-don’t-want-to-know-what stacked in one corner. There’s also a little work station and (you feel a little thrill dance up your spine) a single, slightly lumpy bed pushed against the back wall.

Nice bed. Plenty of room for…activities, whispers a voice in the back of your mind—it’s a gremlin, you think, a silly, horny gremlin, hiding in the recesses of your imagination. Shut up, you tell the gremlin.

“I like it,” you say aloud. “I could live here.” You shut the door and the click echoes in the little room.

You feel Saeyoung’s eyes on you and turn; he’s still standing in the middle of the room, watching you with a sort of reverence on his face.

“You’re amazing,” he says.

Leap into his arms and kiss him breathless, the gremlin says, and you bite your lip, hushing your inner voice. Your neck feels hot.

“You’re the amazing one,” you tell him. For some reason the air in the cabin is reverberating like a plucked string and you’re afraid if you get any closer to him the string will snap. You edge around the outer wall, drop your backpack on the bare mattress, perch on the edge of the bed. “You got us this far.”

He turns to follow you with his eyes, watching as you nervously fiddle with the straps of your bag. There’s a strange expression on his face and you don’t know what to do with your body.

He shakes his head as if to clear it and then abruptly turns from you, crosses to the little desk on the opposite wall, starts pulling things out of his bag with a little too much fervor.

“Will you be okay for a while?” he asks quietly, his back turned. “I just have to…” He waves a hand at the two laptops he’s set on the desk.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He turns to look at you now, and he’s still got that strange, conflicted look on his face. He starts to say something, stops himself. Swallows.

“You can try and keep yourself warm,” he says. “The fireplace would be too big a risk, if it even still works, but check the closet by the bathroom. I think there’s a space heater in there, and there should definitely be blankets.”

And before you can respond he’s all business again, plugging things into other things; there’s already a low hum emitting from one of the computers.

So you do as you’re told: slip out of your shoes, pad across the unfinished wood floor in your thick socks. Open the closet, start peering into the mysterious boxes there. Find, by some miracle, the old, dusty space heater. Get it going.

You wrap yourself up as tightly as you possibly can in one of the thick, stiff blankets you found neatly folded in the closet and curl up on the bare mattress. And you wait.

Time passes.

The sound of his keyboard is like a lullaby to you, nowadays, and you drift between sleep and wakefulness, your head swimming with thoughts of him: the beautiful curve of his cheekbones as he drives into the sunset, the buzzy delight of his fingers on your thigh, the cautious way he brushes his lips over yours on those brief, stolen moments of rest between driving, driving, driving…

The typing stops and your eyes fly open, blinking at him through the flickering light from the single lamp. His back is straight; his fingers aren’t moving.

You call his name. Repeat it.

“Yeah?” His voice sounds rough and you untangle your legs from the blanket. You want to ask if he’s okay but already know the answer.

“How’s it going?” you ask instead—vaguely, lamely. You twist the thick fabric of the blanket in your fingers. What a silly, meaningless question.

“We’ll definitely catch up to him tomorrow,” Saeyoung says hollowly. You consider going to him, wrapping your arms around his tense shoulders, but you don’t know if he’ll let you—the physical affection between you is so new, so tenuous.

“I’m glad,” you say, because it’s the truth.

He twists around in his chair to peer at you. There are familiar dark circles under his eyes, worry written on his soft features.

“You’re not scared?” he asks.

“A little,” you tell him. “But I trust you.”

He sighs, pushes his glasses up, runs one shaky hand over his face. “You have too much faith in me.”

“You’ve given me no reason not to have faith in you.” You unwind yourself more from the big blanket. The space heater has worked, filling the room with smoky warmth. “Are you scared?” you ask.

He cocks his head to the side as if he’s considering it and, with some surprise, says, “Yeah, I think…I am.”

“What are you scared of?” you ask, not sure if he’ll tell you.

He drums his fingers on his knee, looks around the little room as if stalling for time. “Disappearing,” he says at last.

Oh, how you want to run to him. Kiss the lines of worry off his face and hold him till he melts into you.

“I’m not going to let you go anywhere,” you tell him firmly. You’re not sure why, but you feel very confident about this.

“Thank you,” he says. “But…” He’s looking down at his lap now. “I set up my life so I could disappear without a trace whenever I needed to. So if I do…go away…there’d be nothing left of me. It’d be like I was never here.”

That’s it—you can’t take it anymore. You’ve got no more patience—not when he’s got that frightened, empty look on his face.

“Come here,” you say, and you open your arms. His cheeks immediately flush pink, and you’re relieved to see embarrassment take the place of hopelessness on his face.

“O-onto the bed?” he stammers, and you grin—because the capable, strong man who you trust with your life is also this hopelessly innocent, charmingly awkward boy, turning bright red at the mere thought of letting you hold him.

“Only if you want to,” you say in your sweetest voice, and he quietly groans.

“Who could say no to that?” he mutters to himself, and you try to stifle a giggle as he swings his leg over the chair and stumbles the few feet to the bed. You wait for him patiently, arms open—cautiously, avoiding your gaze, he crawls toward you, and as he nuzzles his head hesitantly against your chest you fold him into your arms.

“Better?” you ask him.

“Yes, and…no,” he says. You can feel his heart pounding through both his t-shirt and hoodie, and it seems like he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands. One rests just above your hip, just barely touching you, like he’s not sure whether or not he’s supposed to.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him. With one hand, you play with a stray curl that’s fallen over his face; his skin feels hot on your fingertips.

“I don’t wanna say,” he murmurs.

You brush the hair off his forehead and then, because you just want to, you press a single, soft kiss to his hairline. He shudders.

“Tell me,” you say. Saeyoung has been still as a statue this whole time; now, his hand shifts, putting just the tiniest bit of pressure on your hip. He’s still barely touching you but suddenly you know what he’s thinking, and it’s like an electric current runs through your body and sets your blood on fire. The gremlin chants its encouragement from deep within your mind.

“If…” he says cautiously, and you feel his lips through your shirt as he speaks softly into your chest. Your heart misses a beat. “If tonight is our last night, I just…want to do one thing.”

“It’s not our last night,” you tell him, and your voice sounds too loud, and somehow your focus is narrowing, narrowing so all you can feel is his hand against your hip. You continue working your fingers through his hair, a little more roughly now; he squirms against you and grips your hip harder, harder.

“I hope not,” he whispers. “But if—just in case—can I…be a bit selfish to you?”

You’ve got goosebumps.

“You can do anything you want to me,” you say, and as soon as the words are out of your mouth you feel you’ve gone too far. The gremlin is roaring.

His head shoots up and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the intensity of his eyes, his face mere inches from yours.

“Wh-what?” he stammers. His face is flushed and his pupils are huge; he’s looking at you like he’s never seen anything quite like you before. And maybe his shyness emboldens you, or maybe you’re drunk on the burning feeling of his fingers on your skin, but you take a deep breath and plunge ahead.

“You can do anything you want,” you repeat slowly, looking down into his beautiful, molten eyes. “To me.”

He audibly gulps. There’s a hard, desperate look on his face. You’ve caught glimpses of this expression before, when he’s kissed you, hands at your back, breathing hard against your lips—but he’s always pulled away, cut things off before they went too far.

Now, he’s not pulling away.

“I want to kiss you,” he breathes.

“So kiss me.”

And he does, slowly closing the distance between you, brushing his lips against yours with so much tenderness and care. He’s holding back, you can tell—wound so tight he’s barely moving, as if he’s terrified of whatever lives underneath his carefully curated exterior.

You part your lips and he trembles and—keep going, hisses the gremlin—you deepen the kiss, sweep the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip.

“Mmmm,” you hum, relishing the sweet-salty taste of him, and you weave one hand into the base of his messy curls.

This breaks him. He swivels abruptly, crashing his hips into yours, kissing you harder now—clumsy, rough, electric, wonderful. Delighted by his sudden ferocity, you mold into him, raking your hands down the back of his neck.

He pulls back a fraction of an inch, panting, a wild look on his face.

“I…s-sorry…” he pants. “I c-can’t…”

“Tell me what else you want,” you say. You run a hand up his chest and feel his muscles tensing, his body vibrating.

“I—I want to…” His eyes roam your body and he’s never looked at you quite like this before and—oh god, you think, you didn’t know you could want somebody this much.“I want to…touch you,” he says, his voice low.

The gremlin cheers.

“Touch me where?” you whisper. You roll your hips under his and he moans, grasping desperately at your shoulders with bruising fingers.

“N-not fair,” he hisses. Then he’s kissing you again, more confidently this time, lips parted and hands skimming down your arms, across your torso. Your shirt has ridden up and his calloused fingertips graze your bare skin, making you dizzy, so you wrap your legs around his waist, pull him against you—he groans, kissing you ferociously, breathlessly. Every point of contact between you burns icy-hot.

You break the kiss and gasp for air. Saeyoung looks totally undone, his eyes unfocused, pupils blown huge as he hovers over you. More, screams your mind gremlin, and you silently agree. Your fingers rove over his chest, under his unzipped hoodie.

“Can I take this off?” you murmur. He nods, looking dazed and a little helpless, and you slip it easily off his shoulders, run your hands down his arms. He’s got goosebumps, too. “Is this okay?” you ask him, fingers dancing over his torso now, under his t-shirt.

“Yeah,” he pants, following your questing hands with his eyes. “Um, can I…?”

“Please,” you say. You lean back a little and he cautiously slips a hand under your shirt. His fingers tickle—you giggle—his face breaks into a smile.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, exploring the sensitive skin of your belly with one tentative hand. You moan softly, encouraging him, and his hand slides over your ribcage—pausing when he hits the lacy bottom edge of your bra. He looks down, his cheeks reddening again. “I don’t…know what to do with this,” he mutters. It’s your turn to grin. The genius secret agent slash hacker, taken down by a bra.

“Here,” you say. You pull yourself into a sitting position and he rocks back on his heels; you grab your shirt with both hands and easily lift it off, toss it aside.

Saeyoung looks positively enraptured.

“Y-you are…” he stammers. His awe is adorable and charming but the gremlin yells touch me more, dammit, so you take his hand and guide it to your skin, stroking down from your throat all the way to your belly button.

“Now what are you thinking?” you ask him. You lean back and let him explore you with both hands—he is meticulous, running his fingertips over every inch of exposed skin.

“I’m thinking…” He’s red again. “To be honest, I kind of never thought I’d be in this position.”

You giggle. “S-sorry!” you say. “I just…looking at a girl in a bra?”

He chuckles awkwardly, his hands at your waist, his eyes lowered. “Yeah,” he says. “Exactly.”

“Oh, then boy do I have a surprise for you.” Before he can respond, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him again. He kisses you back hard, grasping at your sides as if holding on for dear life. You trust his grip and slip your hands behind you, unhooking your bra.

Saeyoung realizes what’s happening just a beat after it happens, and he breaks the kiss, pulling away as if he can’t help himself—eyes unabashedly roaming over your body. You slip the straps down your arms and toss the bra aside. For a moment, it seems as though you’ve rendered him speechless.

Then: “Wow,” he says softly.

You grin, propping yourself up with both hands and arching your back, taunting him a little. “That’s all you have to say?”

He chokes on air, lifts his hands to his hot, flushed cheeks. “You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.

His worshipful attention emboldens you. “Your turn,” you tell him, sliding your fingers up and under his t-shirt again. He lifts his arms—obediently, as if in a trance—and you pull the shirt over his head. It gets caught for a moment on his glasses and he absently tosses them aside.

“Careful—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says gruffly.

The shirt is off—at last—and you explore his torso with eager fingers. His skin is warm and malleable under your touch; you can feel where there were once defined abs, trademark of years of rigorous training. Now, there’s a layer of softer flesh over those muscles, evidence of his more recent lifestyle.

He winces a little as your fingers graze his belly.

“Not much to look at,” he mutters. “Especially compared to you.”

You shake your head vehemently, tracing the contours of his chest with your hands. “You are so beautiful,” you tell him in a reverent voice. And he is—the muscles in his arms ripple delightfully under his skin as he adjusts his position, sits cross-legged in front of you. His body is perfect, you think—firm and yet soft, sculpted and yet supple.

He looks sideways and down, made embarrassed by your scrutiny. You run your fingertips over a long scar you’ve never seen before, cutting diagonally across his chest and onto his shoulder.

“What do you want now?” you ask him, leaning forward to brush his neck with your lips. He’s breathing heavily and he’s got that look on his face again—like he’s just barely keeping it together.

“I want…you,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut, and you’re not sure if there’s more to the sentence than that—but you can’t stand it anymore, so you climb into his lap, wrapping both legs around his waist. “Oh my god,” he hisses as you adjust in his lap; you press your lips to his neck again and graze the gentle skin with your teeth. His hips shudder underneath you and the friction makes your head swim.

“C-can I…” he whispers throatily, “do that too?”

You giggle, because even with you half-naked and straddling him he’s still got that adorable naïveté and you just want to smother him with affection.

“Do what?” you murmur in his ear, and then you catch his earlobe between your teeth. He groans, low and longing.

“I-I want—” he begins, but then you grind your hips against him and his words crumble into another desperate moan. He grips your hips with both hands, tries again. “I want to…leave evidence,” he rasps, and he’s holding you so tight you’re sure there will be fingerprints on your hips and thighs in the morning. Good, whispers the gremlin. “I want to leave evidence on you that I existed,” he says.

Your breath hitches and you don’t miss the unspoken “in case I disappear tomorrow” and you lean back in his lap, baring your throat for him.

“Do it,” you say.

He kisses your lips and then, so slowly, flutters kisses across your cheek, your jaw. He parts his lips and you can feel his teeth on your skin.

“Tell me how,” he whispers.

“Lower,” you say, and you feel his lips drift down your neck. “Open,” you tell him, and his lips part. You stay very still, legs wrapped tight around his waist. “Suck,” you say, and he does, tugging your skin into his mouth. You feel the sharp pressure on your skin and you feel a swooping in your stomach, a neediness at your core. “One…” you count, and he sucks harder, his teeth against your flushed skin. “Two…three. Now.” He pulls back, panting a little, surveying his work with curious eyes.

“It’s red,” he says.

“Good,” you tell him. “Again.”

Without hesitation, he brings his mouth to your neck again, following the muscle that wraps around the front of your throat. He takes your skin between his teeth with more confidence this time and sparks fly behind your closed eyelids.

He meticulously progresses down one side of your neck and up the other, leaving a trail of tender, bruised skin in his wake. It doesn’t hurt much, but the gentle pain is enough to stir up something strong and mysterious inside of you. The gremlin in your mind swims in a sea of pleasure.

Saeyoung bites you just under your left ear and you can’t keep still anymore, your hips rocking against his, seeking new sensations.

“Saeyoung,” you hiss, and he licks your neck—you know he can feel the way your nails scrabble at his back—your longing has made him bolder. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Am I?” He nibbles your jaw and grins against your skin as you moan. “Should I drive you crazier?”

You are going to lose it, you think. You are going to topple off the cliff of sensations that are barraging your mind and you are going to fall apart entirely.

"You don’t wanna see what will happen if you do,” you mutter.

“I do, though,” he teases, and then he bites your earlobe—hard—and for a moment you can’t see straight.

You asked for it, you think, and then—before he can react—you slither out of his grip and dart off the bed. Too late, he reaches for you, but you’ve already found your footing, sliding easily to your knees. You grip his waist with both hands and pull him toward you and he follows, automatically, unthinking. It’s only then that he looks down and sees the position you’re in.

His eyes widen and his face flushes a shade darker than his hair. “You’re…that’s…uhhhh,” he manages. You loop two fingers through the waistband of his jeans and tug him closer to the edge of the bed and he goes with you, letting his legs dangle off the side. He opens his mouth as if to say something else. Swallows. Closes it again.

You run one hand over and around his thigh and then, achingly slow, over the obvious bulge in his pants. He makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a squeak.

“Will you let me do this?” you ask, fingers drifting up to the button of his jeans. He tries to speak but fails again. Instead, he nods frantically, and you undo the button, pull down the zipper. His erection springs free, now constrained only by the more forgiving fabric of his boxers. “Help me with these, babe,” you say, tugging at his pants, and he complies eagerly, pulling his jeans off his hips with shaky hands. You guide them down his legs and then you palm him again, through his underwear, thrilled by the way his cock jumps in anticipation at your touch.

“I wanna taste you,” you whisper, and he mutters a string of incoherent syllables, his hips shaking uncontrollably under your ministrations. You slip his boxers up and over his erection, down his thighs, and bend slowly forward, exhaling onto him. His cock jumps again as if seeking out your lips of its own accord. So you bend over further, bring your lips to his tip, dart out your tongue and lick all the way around.

He groans low in his throat and then his hands are tangled in your hair and he’s pulling your head back.

“No?” you ask, and he whimpers as if stopping you is taking all his strength.

“I…want you to, god I want you to…b-but…” His voice sounds weak and his eyes are shut, his head still tilted back. “If you do that, I won’t…uhhhhh, I won’t be able to…l-last. Very long. At all.” He finally opens his eyes and gazes down at you with such neediness it makes you tremble.

“You don’t have to, baby,” you purr, and he shuts his eyes again with a moan. “Trust me, you’ll…come back around, if that’s what you want.”

He mumbles something and your lips quirk upward as you feel him gathering your hair behind your neck with his hands.

“Then…please,” he hisses, and the gremlin jumps for joy. You round your lips, carefully taking his tip between them; you wrap one hand around his base and slowly, slowly pull him into your mouth.

He utters a totally indistinguishable string of sounds and you suction your lips around him and arch your back, taking him deeper and then slipping away, licking all the way up his length. You grip his base with your other hand and slide your lips over him, in and out, mouth and hand working in tandem. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t last long, you think—his hips have started to shake in a telltale way and so, back arching, you suction your lips around him tighter, rocking forward on your knees. You cup his balls with one hand and breathe in, pulling him further into your mouth—and he comes, hard and fast, wiggling beneath you as he relinquishes control. You open your throat, swallowing everything.

He gasps for air and, gradually, the erratic movements of his hips slow. You pull away from him then, licking the last of the saltiness from his tip, and he lets out a low, hollow moan.

The heat between your legs is almost unbearable now—there was something about making him dissolve in pleasure that completely overwhelmed you and now you feel dizzy.

You pull yourself back onto the bed, crawling to his side and stroking his cheek. His eyes flutter open and he looks ravished, you think, his gaze totally unfocused and his hair beautifully disheveled.

“I…that…” he pants. You kiss his collarbone. “Th-that was…”

“Better than when you do it yourself, huh?” You giggle against his skin and internally beg your gremlin for patience, trying to ignore the steadily growing need at your core.

“I…literally cannot put into words how much better,” he says. “You…”

“Give great head? Are impossibly sexy and cool? Deserve a blessing from God Seven?” You can’t help but scoot closer as you tease him, grinding your hips—still in your pants, dammit—against his side.

“God Seven isn’t worthy,” he says. His eyes rove over your body, and—yes—land on your still-clothed lower half. “God Seven has found a new purpose in life.”

“And that is?” you purr. You shamelessly rub your hips against his side again. You keep your voice level; internally, you’re at the eye of a storm.

He props himself up on his elbows. Maybe he can tell that now you’re the one who’s falling apart; maybe he’s just finally starting to relax (he certainly should feel relaxed, after that, you think)—but you sense that he’s taking control.

“Well.” His tone is commanding, almost intellectual. “The first step is to get you out of these pants.”

“Yes!” you cry, and he chuckles as you enthusiastically undo the button, already pulling them down your thighs. “Finally!”

He waits for you, sprawled sideways across the bed, looking for all the world as if he does this everyday. You wriggle out of your pants and throw yourself onto your back beside him.

There’s a hungry look on his face as he leans forward and runs one large, calloused hand up your thigh, parting your legs. Desperate for him, you lean back into the mattress, breath already coming hard and fast. “You’re so wet…” he says in awe as he reaches your panties and hesitates, his hand tantalizingly close.

“Of course I am,” you tell him. “It’s because I need you to touch me, Saeyoung.”

His eyes go wide.

“Teach me,” he whispers.

You rip your underwear off with one hand and he helps you, pulling it down your legs and over your feet with gentle hands. You catch his hand in your own and guide him up, between your thighs—separating out his long, flexible fingers, bringing the pad of his index finger to your swollen, needy clit.

“Like this,” you murmur, and you flick your own finger over yourself, hot and trembling, unable to repress a moan at finally getting some satisfaction. He watches you with thoughtful eyes and you can practically see the gears turning in that genius brain of his as he memorizes your movements.

Then he copies you, moving his finger softly against your clit—and it’s different when he does it, of course, his fingers nimbler, his skin rougher. He mimics your motions with absolute precision and you let your hand fall away, the mixture of pleasure and desperation and relief threatening to drown you.

He takes note of every response from you: the way you moan as he moves faster, the way your thighs clench around his hand as he experimentally makes a little circle with his fingertip.

“You are…amazing,” he says, and he’s gazing down at you in wonder, and—oh, he’s got a new toy to play with, you think groggily, your head swimming—he’s found another thing he can manipulate with his fingers, and that’s his speciality.

“Thank god for computers,” you gasp, not even sure what you’re saying, the room swimming around you as you forget to breathe.

“Thank god for…computers?” he asks, eyebrows knitted in confusion—but even as he speaks, his movements don’t slow, his finger flitting against you with the same precision and gentleness you’ve seen him apply to his keyboards, or the little cat robot.

You somehow manage to laugh through the blinding heat behind your eyes. “Because…” you gasp. “B-because you’re good at…computers…so you know how to…”

At that moment, he curls a finger inside of you, his eyes growing huge as he realizes he has another weapon at his disposal. You lose track of your words entirely, taken by surprise, stammering out his name as his index fingers continues its endless stimulation of your clit and his middle finger slides deeper inside you.

Your toes curl. He bends over you and his teeth graze your neck where it’s already tender from his earlier attentions and the heat is blinding, blinding you, and you swear your body actually levitates, the cold, scratchy mattress disappearing entirely as the pleasure swells within you. You come violently, shaking, anchored to reality only by his fingers at your core.

You hear yourself gasping his name as if from outside yourself, and he rides it out with you, pushing you deeper and farther into the bright, hot recesses of your mind.

And slowly, the feeling fades: the mattress is firm and steady beneath you and you grasp clumsily for him, stilling his fingers with your own.

“Fuck,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “Fuck, Saeyoung.”

You try to focus on his face. He’s hovering over you and he looks adoring and thrilled and—proud.

“Am I amazing at that, or what?!” he sings, and you burst out laughing.

“You’re a genius, babe,” you tell him. You still feel a little woozy.

“I know I’m a genius,” he crows. “But who knew I was a sex genius?” He’s all energy now, bouncing on his heels, rocking the bed a little. You push yourself into a sitting position, giggling.

“God Seven, God Seven!” he’s chanting—so you do the only reasonable thing and tackle him, knocking him flat on his back, snaking your arms around his neck.

“There’s still something I wanna try with you, genius God Seven,” you purr into his ear, and his demeanor shifts almost immediately, a little shiver running through his body.

“Yeah?” he murmurs—and all his bravado is gone, and he gazes at you hungrily. You maneuver yourself so your hips are hovering just over his, and you can feel that he’s hardening again, his tip grazing your belly.

“Choi Saeyoung, for the love of god, please fuck me,” you say. He exhales sharply, grasping at your sides with both hands. “I’ve only been imagining it since the day I met you.”

“You have?” His voice is low and throaty and you grind your hips against him, pinning his cock between you. He’s totally hard now, and shivering, that dizzy look returning to his face—like he doesn’t quite know where is or how he got here.

“You have no idea,” he mutters. “But…hang on…I have—” He pushes you off him reluctantly, and you sit back on the bed.

He has…?

It dawns on you, and you watch in wonder as he slides from the bed, practically runs to his bag which he’s left beside the desk. You’re a little ashamed to admit that you hadn’t even thought of it.

He rummages around in the bag and you watch—he has, you think, an excellent butt. Triumphantly, he pulls a little roll of condoms from his bag; you smirk.

“Why do you have those?” you ask, trying to keep the laugher from your voice.

“Don’t…read anything into it, alright?” His face is flushed again as he returns to you, crawls back onto the bed. “I just…you know, need to be prepared. For things. As an…agent.”

“As an agent?” You lean back against the wall, legs long in front of you. You can see little finger-shaped marks already forming on your thighs and the sight alone makes your head spin.

“Yeah, it’s…y’know…safety?” he mumbles, coming to sit beside you. He rips off one of the little packets, tosses the rest aside. His face is still flushed and the dim light from the lamp casts shadows over his prominent collar bones and you just want to bite them.

“Saeyoung, how long have you had the condoms?” you ask.

“Not…long."

“So not like, years, right? Cause they expire, you know.”

He growls playfully and nips at your shoulder; you squeal. “Not years, silly. Like…days.”

Ah-ha. You’re a little relieved to know you’re not the only one who’s been obsessing over getting him naked for the last few days.

“So,” you say, voice low.

“So,” he says.

You turn and kiss the base of his neck and he hisses in pleasure. You trail kisses down his chest, over his belly, his hip. Up the length of his cock, holding it gently with one hand.

“G-go easy on me,” he groans, and you laugh. You reach for the packet and he hands it to you; you tear it open and ease the sticky plastic over his tip. You roll the condom onto him slowly, caressing him with both hands, bending to pepper little kisses around his base.

“Ready, baby?” you whisper, looking up at him. He meets your eyes with his own, dark and dizzy and dazed.

“I-I just wanna…” he mumbles. “Just wanna remind you that I have no idea what I’m doing…so…”

You put both hands on his chest and straddle him.

“What happened to God Seven, sex genius?”

“He’s…still here, but I…ahh.” He moans as you position yourself over him, using a hand to guide him toward you entrance.

“I love you,” you tell him. And before he can answer, you slide onto him, slowly, gasping at the relief of finally feeling him inside you.

His hips stutter frantically against yours and you still him with a hand on his chest. His eyes are shut and his jaw is fixed, like he’s fighting desperately for control.

You wait for him to take a breath—and when he does, slowly, shakily, you start to move. You lift your hips and he moves with you, lower them and he follows you. You feel a sharp clenching inside you, a delightful explosion of sensations, as you fall into a rhythm together.

You moan and he reaches for you, grasping at your sides, your arms. He’s growing more confident now, rocking into you, and you clench around him, pulling him deeper.

His eyes fly open and you see something snap in him—do it, you think—and he does, using both hands to flip you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. His eyes scorch you as he slips back inside you, thrusting into you a little harder; you meet him halfway, lifting your hips, deepening the angle. He’s panting and you can tell he’s still trying to hold himself back and you want to tell him to let go, it’s okay, but there’s fog swimming in your brain and then a huge wave of feelings crashes over you, breaking around you before you know what’s happening. You come quickly and unexpectedly this time, rays of pleasure piercing your body as you lose control of the rhythm and fall to pieces beneath him.

And through the daze of pleasure you see his face shift as he gives in, lets go, thrusts into you faster and harder and with unbidden need—and so you throw your legs up around his waist and pull him into you. His eyes widen and then he comes, too, chasing you, rocking into you frantically, breathing hard through parted lips.

You come down together, trembling and panting, his beautiful faces inches from yours—and then he kisses you hard. You clench around him again and he whimpers.

“You just did that…on purpose,” he gasps.

“I did.”

He laughs a brand new laugh and this one, you think, is your favorite. He slides out of you and sits back, pulling off the condom with a hiss as his fingers brush the sensitive flesh.

“I don’t wanna be dramatic,” he says as he catches his breath. “But I think I just died and then was born again. So.” He giggles and you collapse against him, pressing a hot cheek to his chest. He wraps his arms around you.

“Do you think,” you murmur, “other agents have also done it in this bed?”

He squeezes you tight, still laughing. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“How could you not?”

He hums thoughtfully, combing his fingers through your knotted hair. “I kind of doubt it,” he says. “Secret agents have way less sex than people think we do.”

“You don’t,” you say.

“One time,” he mutters, nuzzling his face into your hair. “I’ve now had sex one time.”

You twist to look up at him: there are curls falling messily over his forehead and his face is flushed and pink and so kissable. You crane your neck and kiss the underside of his jaw.

“I have this strong feeling that you’re gonna end up having a lot more sex,” you tell him. “Probably kind of soon.”

He cackles and dips his head and covers your face with kisses; you squeal as he flips you over onto your stomach, tossing your hair to the side and nibbling the back of your neck.

“…didn’t leave…enough evidence?” you pant, giggling, squirming.

“Oh, I’m not worried about that anymore,” he says, pinning you beneath him and licking the back of your ear.

“You’re not?”

“Nope!” he sings. “I am one hundred percent confident that I won’t be going anywhere any time soon.” His energy shifts as he kisses across your shoulder, down your back. His fingers drift to your sides, caressing you slowly, making you tremble. “I am never,” he whispers into your skin, “going anywhere without you.”

“Promise?” you pant, squirming as his kisses drift lower, lower.

“I promise,” he whispers, his lips burning your lower back, “that I won’t ever leave your side.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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yikesharringrove · 3 years ago

Text

Show Pony

Chapter 6

Winds Change

Read on Ao3

Five days.

They had five days left together.

Billy tried not to think about it, but it was kinda hard to ignore.

Stalls were already being taken down, fair games being packed up into large shipping trucks to take across the country.

One of Max’s beloved funnel cake stalls had already met the way of the shipping container. She was pissed.

And yet, Billy and Steve did their best to pretend like the rodeo wasn’t coming down around them.

A perfect symbolism for their fling, or whatever, crashing down everywhere they look.

Billy spent days in Steve’s sweaty little airstream, brushing his fingers over that muscular body, calling him a hick and a horse girl and every other fake insult he could think of.

And Steve spent all that time lacing his fingers with Billy’s, winking at him from his place on top of one of his three gorgeous mares as he did victory lap after victory lap, roping calves in under ten seconds, slamming Billy against the walls of the airstream, adrenaline from the stunt still pumping through him.

The field saw them exercising Steve’s horses, taking a ratty blanket out there in the middle of the night to watch the stars.

And it was stupid, Billy pretending that this was more than just. A convenience.

Steve was on his knees, and Billy threaded his hands into that thick hair, tugging it this way and that, the way he’s learned Steve likes after some weeks of mewling whines.

Billy was backed up against the gate of the makeshift paddock, shielded by the prying eyes of the other rodeo workers by the long-set sun and the sounds of the day’s crowds filtering out of the grounds.

Steve pushed down, taking Billy’s cock all the way in his throat, breathing heavily through his nose, the nose currently pressed flat against Billy’s pelvis.

Steve was a champion at a few things: calf roping, horse riding, and dick sucking.

He pulled off Billy’s dick with a slurp, rolling his tongue along the head, humming slightly as he did. His eyes were dark, staring up at Billy, something like a smirk sparking in them as Billy fell apart.

He took a breath, ready to move back in and finish Billy off when there were footsteps.

“Steve! I gotta check Loretta’s hock.”

They both froze, Steve’s eyes going wide with shock, his lips still stretched around the cock in his mouth.

Billy had yet to meet Jim Hopper, the horse specialist that watched out for Steve’s three mares.

He guesses he was about to meet the man right about now.

Steve yanked his face off Billy’s cock with an unmistakable slurping sound that made Billy’s face go bright fuckin’ red. Billy fumbled with the fly on his shorts, and Steve took charge, roughly pulling the button closed and the zip up. It was a miracle he didn’t catch any skin with the quick action.

Steve was on his feet as Jim rounded the edge of the fencing, eyeing the two of them standing far too close, Billy’s face red and full of guilt. Jim raised a hand, his eyes closing as he breathed heavily out his nose.

“I don’t wanna know. Just let me take a look at your girl.”

Steve shrugged, acting like this whole ordeal was just another day at the rodeo.

Maybe it is, Billy’s brain supplied.

They were so fucking. Obvious. Billy could just drop dead right there on the grass.

Jim was a big dude. Beefy and broad, his face was clearly weather-beaten. Well, what of his face wasn’t covered with a graying beard and mustache. His left cheek pudged out slightly with what Billy realized was chewing tobacco when he spit casually at his feet.

“This is Billy. I told you about him,” Steve said with a smirk.

And Billy just about had a heart attack when Steve made a big show of wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, smirkin’ like the devil.

“Yeah, kid, I’m just here for Letty.”

The horses had been allocated to the horsebox for the night, as it was much warmer in there for them. Not that it was cold in San Diego at night, but still. Steve worried. Billy thought it was cute.

Steve led Jim off towards the box, clapping him once on the shoulder as he passed, making Jim groan and spit a dollop of yellow-brown saliva after Steve.

Billy felt like he was about to turn into some thick hot liquid shame when Jim gave him a bit of a once-over, raising one thick eyebrow at him. Jim’s mustache twitched, and he spit to the side before turning on his heel, following Steve to the horses.

Billy has never been more mortified in his life.

Steve’s mentioned Jim a lot. He always calls him Hop. Said Steve himself gave him that nickname. Billy has kinda sussed out that Jim is something like a pseudo-dad to Steve. The one to teach him how to really care for the horses. The one to teach him to properly tie a calf.

All the shit that Steve was made of, Jim taught him.

Billy had put together that Jim’s daughter was the one Max was scampering about the grounds with. Steve said he had adopted Elle when she was about seven.

His face gave something away when he said that. Making a look that said there was a story there, but Billy didn’t wanna ask.

It’s not his story to know.

Billy followed after them, keeping a wide enough berth from the pair that it was weird. He knew it was weird. But it was either this type of weird, or the weird of inserting himself into their conversation when Jim obviously knew what they had been doing seconds before he found them. Steve was about as subtle as a gun with those grass stains on his knees, wiping at his face like he needed to prove a point.

Billy lingered outside the horsebox.

Loretta had been lagging lately, and she startled whenever Steve laid a hand on her left leg.

Steve had just about sobbed when he told Billy he thinks she’s hurt herself.

Billy wished he had a cigarette right about now.

“Yeah, I think the poor girl’s just havin’ some inflammation. Probably tweaked her leg just right on the arena dirt.”

“Is she gonna be okay? What does she need?” Steve sounded more serious than Billy’s ever heard him. There was a weight to his voice that only reared up when Steve mentioned his father, a slight quiver in his words that made his anxiety palpable.

“She’s a tough one, Letty. Let her rest for about two weeks, only mild walking, and some ice at the end of the day wouldn’t hurt, either. We’ll talk after that and see if she needs anything more.”

There was something of a pause in the horsebox, and Billy held his breath, ignoring the fact that he was clearly eavesdropping now.

“You being careful with that boy?”

“‘Course I am.”

“Because I meant what I said last time. I’m not posing as your dad to get you an appointment at the clinic again-”

“ Jesus, Hop. I thought we agreed never to talk about that again, huh? And besides, I’m grown. I can make appointments for my own STD tests now. Plus, it was all fine.”

Billy nearly choked.

It’s not that he’s never had a scare before, and he and Steve were safe, but still.

“Good to hear, then. But you being careful ?” There was another silence from the box. One of the horses whinnied.

When Jim continued, it was with a much softer voice than before.

“I ain’t never seen you so attached before.”

The horse whinnied again, and Billy pictured Steve wrapping his arms around June’s neck and hugging her close.

“He’s under my skin now.” A scuff that sounded like Steve’s boot brushing against the hay-covered floor of the box. “First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.”

Those words crashed into Billy’s gut, knocking all the wind out of him.

He suffocated on them, drowned in Steve’s melancholy voice as he said them.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

It stung at the same time it made Billy’s heart soar.

It hurt and it healed and it made Billy wanna throw up and lock Steve in his basement so he could never leave him.

Or maybe something less totally wacked-out and creepy.

“You know I love you like my own, but you gotta manage yourself. I ain’t judgin’, I just don’t wanna see you all hurt again.”

“Jeez, that was some real sappy shit there.” The mood shifted with Steve’s deflection, and Billy could hear footsteps leaving the horsebox.

He scrambled over to Steve’s little airstream, pretending he hadn’t been listening and freaking out over what he was hearing.

There was just. There was a whole lot to take in there.

Jim said he didn’t want to see Steve all hurt again, but also said he’s never seen Steve so attached before.

When had he been all hurt before if this was, in Steve’s words, the first time he wasn’t ready for a fling to be over?

And Billy didn’t want to hurt Steve, but it kinda, in a real shitty way, made him feel a little bit better that he wasn’t the only one ignoring the oncoming end out of sadness and a need to prolong whatever they had left.

That, and the added little bonus that Jim had once pretended to be Steve’s father to get him an STD test from a clinic.

Billy feels like he’s been punched in the face over and over again by that short conversation he heard. And he would know. He’s been decked in the kisser too many times to think about.

He leaned against the cold metal wall of the airstream as Steve came into view, Jim heading in the opposite direction towards the fairgrounds and the rodeo being shut down for the night.

Steve smiled at Billy, this soft, calm little thing that made the warm summer air even sweeter in Billy’s lungs and the words keep ringing through his head.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

He could see something in Steve, now that he knew what to look for.

How carefree and easy he seemed anytime he was around Billy, but those devastating moments when he seemed to bite his tongue against saying something more meaningful, or shied away from a briefly intimate touch.

Billy could finally see his own anxiety in Steve at their dwindling time together, and it broke his fucking heart.

Robin had warned Billy not to get attached. She told him Steve slept around and played the field and left before anyone could get in too deep.

But he wonders if Robin had warned Steve against the same thing. If she had told him that Billy was going to fuck and run. That leaving someone behind can sometimes hurt just as much as being left behind.

He hopes that if she hasn’t, she’ll be there for Steve. That she’ll pick him up and won’t let him break his own precious heart anymore.

“So, how’s Loretta?”

“She’ll be okay. Poor lady just needs some rest and some ice, and she’ll be feeling her best in a few weeks.”

Steve matched Billy’s stance, leaning against the trailer and tilting his face to the starry sky.

It was quiet out in the sea of trailers. Now that the spectators had all gone home for the night, the cheering crowds and amplified commentators weren’t reverberating through the open grass.

Instead, they could hear the rodeo animals that had been put in their nighttime areas. The many whineys and brays from different horses spread through the place.

The rodeo seemed so fucking magic to Billy.

Something like Heaven.

“I’m going soon.”

Billy doesn’t know why Steve said it.

They both knew that fact.

He thought they were both aggressively ignoring that fact.

“Yeah. You are.”

Billy didn’t know what to do with his hands.

He really didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever.

Because talking about it makes it real.

And God fucking forbid Steve breaks it off now and not in the allotted five days they still have to laugh and fuck and be free .

He pulled out his slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one deftly.

Steve didn’t smoke. Said his grandpa died really horribly of lung cancer.

Billy knew this was going to be a serious talk when Steve didn’t make one of his usual snide remarks about Billy smoking.

“I just wanted. To be sure,” Steve trailed off, still looking at the spangled night sky. “We need to be on the same page.”

That we’re probably, most definitely, in love with one another but too stupid and too poorly timed and too tragic to say anything about it.

“I think we are.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. Because, I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, and, like, our arrangement’s been the same since the beginning.”

Arrangement.

That word.

Arrangement.

It was a fucking ugly word for whatever beautiful thing they had between them.

Arrangement.

It made Billy feel cheap, and used, and so fucking stupid.

And feeling like that only meant one thing for Billy.

He got fucking mad.

“So, that’s it then. You’re done with me. Onto the next poor sucker in the next shitty town that’ll fuck you through the mattress and hold your hand until you decide you’re sick of ‘em. Great. It was so nice being your fucking whore. Thanks for the. Opportunity.”

He wished he chewed tobacco like Jim. He would spit a glob at Steve’s foot. Probably make it land right on those stupid fucking red cowboy boots.

Steve finally looked at Billy, his face scrunched up and those beautiful eyes of his looking somewhere between lost and hurt and angry and confused.

“Billy, that’s not what I-”

“No. No, Harrington, I fucking get it. You go town to town, and feed these fuckers a sob story about how hard it is for you to connect with people, and that you’re lonely and your dad sucks, and all this other bullshit. When really, you’re just an insecure asshole with intimacy problems who’s too fucking stupid to get a fucking GED.”

Fuck.

The second the words were out of his mouth, Billy knew he had gone way too fucking far.

Steve’s eyes flashed, and his face seemed to morph right in front of Billy’s eyes. He was closing himself off right where they stood. Getting ready to chuck Billy away and never see him again.

And Billy fucking deserved it.

“You’re calling me an insecure asshole with intimacy problems? The only friends you’ve got are coworkers that only pity you because they can see how fucking pathetic you are. You beg for scraps like a fucking dog and the second things get tough you ignore it, or get angry at it, like a stupid goddamn child . You think you’re so tough. That you’re the only one with problems . You’ve got your head so far up your own ass that you don’t realize that shit sucks all over, and that everyone is just as miserable as you are, we’re just able to fucking make something out of ourselves instead of wallowing in self-pity.”

Steve’s little speech left Billy feeling dumbfounded.

He was seething with a rage he had never felt in his life before. Anger at himself, and anger at Steve for being so fucking right. For letting all of Billy’s flaws and insecurities tumble out of his mouth like they were nothing.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, leaning forward to put it out against the door of the airstream, leaving a tiny circular ash print on the painted cow. It looked like a bullet wound on the poor thing.

It’s how Billy felt.

“I hope your horse fucking dies.”

It was childish.

It was so dumb, and childish, and Billy really doesn’t hope any horse anywhere dies, especially Steve’s three wonderful mares, but he’s feeling something he thinks he could call jilted, and he’s hurt and upset and genuinely at a loss.

He didn’t let Steve get another word in. Just turned on his heel, and left the little cowboy behind.

#woop woop i like this chapter a lot please enjoy!#show pony #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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navalcriminalimagines · 4 years ago

Text

NCIS x SVU. Rafael Barba x Reader, dad!Gibbs x Reader.

request: Just want to ask if you could do a crossover where dad!Gibbs first meet the boyfriend and reader is dating Barba. Or something like that?

warnings: family lost

The first meeting

Being Leroy Jethro Gibbs’ daughter isn’t easy, for many reasons. On top is how he scares the shit out off the men you date. It happened with your boyfriend when you were 18. It took you months to make official presentations. Your father figured it out pretty quickly - that’s on being a federal agent - but waited until you told him. Then he met your boyfriend, it didn’t go very well. He never wanted to hang out at your place, and later he broke up with you, because “your father scares me so bad, I’m afraid if I do something wrong, he’s gonna shot me.”

His fears were legit. When your second boyfriend broke your heart, your father threated him so bad he moved from DC. Since then, you decided to keep your love life private, and barely tell your boyfriends about your dad. “He’s a navy cop” was well enough.

But your current boyfriend figured a few things, without you telling him. He knows your mum and baby sister were killed years ago, he knows the rules you go by come from your father. He knows your father is the love of your life, but for whatever reasons, you keep it to yourself.

However, Rafael was tired of that. He introduced you to his mother and grandmother - before she passed. He asked you to move in with him months ago (to which you agreed). Now, you said yes when he asked you to marry. Maybe it’s time for your father to meet your boyfriend—fiancé, actually.

You decided to surprise your father in DC. You and Rafael barely had entered the city when he saw you taking off your engagement ring. “Do I need to glue that diamond to your finger?” He said.

You giggled. “Don’t worry, I’ll put it back on quickly. It’s just that—if I show up with it around my finger, I won’t have time to even say a word,”

“It’s going to be fine, right?” He said as he extended his hand to your knee. You intertwined your fingers with his.

“Don’t be the smart ass you’re at work and we should be good,” you smiled and shoved the ring in your pocket.

*****

There was a whole plan. You picked up your grandfather Jackson at your father’s and dropped him and Rafael at the diner your father and you always go. Rafael already met your grandfather and Jackson loves your fiancé - although he doesn’t know he proposed yet. You had no worries about them staying together for a moment. You showed up at NCIS, to find Ellie and Nick working at their desks. “Evening, people!” You shouted, scaring Ellie off.

“Y/N, stop doing that!” She said, walking over to hug you. “Didn’t know you were coming this weekend,”

“Wasn’t plan until yesterday. Hi Nick,” you hugged him too. “Where’s Jack Sloane? I wanna meet the woman that confuse dad,”

You have a group chat with the team and it’s been weeks since they are telling you about the new agent and how your father is with her. They are convinced there’s something going on, you need to see it on your own. Unfortunately she wasn’t there.

A few minutes later, your father arrived in the bullpen and he was as surprised as Ellie and Nick to see you here. “Hey baby,” he hugged you tight, “Perfect way to end this day,” he said as he kissed your hair.

“Can you leave with me?”

Gibbs gave a few instructions and left with you. In the elevator, you turned off the engine. Your father looked at you, puzzled. “Wow, I do feel powerful doing that,” you stated.

“Is it why you did it?”

“No. I need to talk to you before we leave,” Gibbs saw your serious look. He turned to the side to face you.

“I’m not here alone,” you said. “Grandpa made the trip,”

“Y/N, you know your grandfather shouldn’t drive such a long ride by himself,”

“I know and I wanted to pick him up in Steelwater. You shouldn’t be surprised he refused,”

“Am not. I’m mad you gave him a choice,”

“Dad! That’s not the point, okay? He’s here and he’s safe. He’s waiting for us at the diner and he’s—not alone,”

Your father looked at you, waited for more information. “I want you to meet my boyfriend,” Gibbs didn’t answer, he just turned on the elevator. You switched it off right after. “Don’t go all overprotective, please. He’s nice. The best, actually. And he means a lot to me,”

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

“Three—years,”

“Years?!”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I hid it from you, but I didn’t want you to scare him away. I love him,”

“What kind of man do you think I am?”

“The one that breaks my ex boyfriend’s arm because he broke up with me!”

“I didn’t want to break his arm. He wouldn’t shut up,”

“Anyway! Be nice and open minded, please?”

Gibbs wondered why you said “open minded”. He figured it out pretty quickly when he saw your boyfriend through the diner’s window. “How old is he, Y/N?” Not that Rafael looked particularly old, but he’s older than you and that can noticeable, especially for your father.

“Open minded, dad! You like red heads, I like older guys,” Gibbs swallowed hard when you said that. “Pop likes him. I’m sure you will too, if you give him a chance,” you slided your hand into your father’s, “Please?” You looked at him with those puppy eyes of yours. He now knows why it always worked when he did it with his mother.

Jackson was the first to see you and your father through the window. “Are you ready, Rafael?” Your boyfriend followed Jackson’s stare. You were obviously talking to your dad. “She’s warning him,” Jackson chuckled.

“I’m honestly afraid. I know that—if your son doesn’t like me, my relationship with Y/N is in danger,”

“You got me in your corner, son. It’s gonna be okay,”

Rafael watched you until you entered the diner. He stood up and extended his hand to your father. He felt like a teenager, meeting the scary father of his first girlfriend. But he’s a grown man, he is a shark in court, he usually scares people. He surely can handle your father. So he hoped.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” he said. When you noticed your father wasn’t shaking Rafael’s hand, you hit him with your elbow and he did it.

“Hi son,” Jackson stood up painfully and your father hugged him. You sat next to Rafael, across your father. Under the table, you grabbed your fiancé’s hand and squeezed it softly. “About time you arrive, we’re starving,” Jackson said. Your father kept staring at your fiancé. “I feel like the outsider here. You all work in law enforcement and here I am, old marine, with his shop,” thank god for your grandfather.

“What do you do?” Gibbs asked his son-in-law.

“Lawyer. ADA for Manhattan’s Special Victim Unit,”

“Good kind of lawyer,” you told your dad.

The diner went as good as it could go and it was all on your grandfather. You knew he was fond of your boyfriend and that he would make it easier. A few times, you had to give kicks to your father under the table to remind him to behave. Not that he was giving hard times to Rafael, but he was searching for a smallest bad thing in your boyfriend.

“How did I do?” Rafael asked when you were in the car. Your father and your grandfather were in your father’s car.

“He agreed for us to stay at home for the weekend, so that’s good. That’s really good actually,”

“Yeah, well, thank god you invited your grandfather,” Rafael chuckled.

“Told you we needed the shield,”

“You know, baby—I understand him. I didn’t sleep much last night and I tried the empathy thing. I would probably be like him if I went through the same things,” Rafael had his hand on your knee and he gave you a squeeze. “Wouldn’t want anything around a diamond like you,”

Though you were driving, you put one of your hands on his. “Mum would have loved you. She would have made him behave,” you giggled to that thought but Rafael heard the tears in your voice.

“I hope she knows how much I love her daughter,” Rafael brought your hand to his lips and softly kissed your knuckles.

Later that night, while Rafael was peacefully sleeping in your old room - he made a move but you refused to do anything in that room and he understood - you went downstairs and heard noise from the basement. “Old habits die hard,” you said, walking to your father.

“Did I wake you up? Not used to have people at home anymore,”

“Don’t worry, dad. I just couldn’t sleep,” you grabbed one of the tools and started to work on the boat just like your father showed you when you were little.

“Something’s bothering you? Are you disappoint by my behavior?”

“Nah. You did better than I thought, actually,” you told him. “And for what’s worth, Rafael understands why you are the way you are,”

“And what way would that be?”

“Overprotective. Worried. Scared, perhaps?”

“All I want is for you to be happy, sweetheart,”

“I know,” you let go of the tool and got closer to your father, making him stop what he’s doing. “I am, dad. Rafael makes me happy,” Gibbs could see the tears in your eyes even though the light was dim. He watched you taking something from your sweater’s pocket. “That’s why—“ you put the ring around your finger, “I said yes,”

You knew it was a lot in one night for your father. You didn’t know what his reaction would be. But he surprised you with a tight hug. “You’re happy, I’m happy, baby. Rafael is—seems like a very good man,”

You were happy about your life. But something was still off and no one, nothing can’t make it disappear, “I wish mummy and Kelly were still here,” you cried in your father’s arms.

“Me too, baby. Me, too,”

Rafael felt you leaving the bed. He always knew you had sleep issues. Sometimes when you disappeared in the middle of the night, he followed you because he knows you’re not okay. That’s exactly what he did, until he heard you and your father in the basement. He heard the entire conversation. It warmed and broke his heart in the same time. He could never take away the pain of losing your mother and your sister when you were a little girl. But he promised himself he would do everything he can to make it less painful.

In the morning, Rafael woke up before you. When he got downstairs, your father and grandfather were already up and eating breakfast. “Morning Rafael,” Jackson greeted him with a warm smile, which he returned.

Gibbs didn’t say anything, but with his hand, he ordered Rafael to follow him downstairs. “I now know why Y/N’s good with wood, and building things,” Rafael said with a - scared - smile.

Gibbs sat on his bench and looked up to his soon-to-be son-in-law. “I need you to make me one promise,” he said. Rafael nodded. “Promise me that—whatever happened to me, to my father or even, between you and my daughter, you will always be there for her,” Rafael felt he wasn’t done so he stayed silent, “I never approved of her exes because I knew they weren’t up for it. I feel like you are, so—promise me that, and I will let you marry her,”

“I promise you. I would promise it a hundred times if needed. Your daughter brought me back to life, she has no idea how happy she makes me. She deserves the world and I will give it to her,” Rafael paused to take a deep breath, “I promise you, I will always be there for her. No matter what,” he said. “sí o sí,” he repeated in a whisper.

Gibbs stood up and did something unexpected for both of them. He hugged Rafael. Not in a million years, Rafael would have imagined his father-in-law would hug him. But he did and you saw it.

#law and order svu #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #law and order: special victims unit #ncis #jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs

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pregnant-piggy · 4 years ago

Text

Silver lining ~ one

George Weasley x fem!reader

masterlist // playlist

warnings: i believe none, but let me know if I missed something!

A/N: so here’s the official first part! I am quite nervous to post this, but also very excited to start this series! As the start of this series, this part is still without the angst. Fun fact: I actually wrote this with my copy of Deathly Hallows next to me as reference.

word count: 2.6k

Resfeber, the start

It was only ten minutes after closing time when George and Fred ran into the flower shop you worked in.

Your boss had just left, leaving you with cleaning and closing up. You had put all the flowers on water and were sweeping the floor while listening to the music that softly played in the space. It had been a good day; there had been a lot of people and for a moment it had seemed that the war was nearly to an end.

Little did you know that that was not far from the truth.

Years later you would still remember the exact words that could be heard on the radio the moment the Weasley twins stepped hurried into your store.

Our moments don’t last forever,

But I’ll always cherish them.

It was a lousy wizards’ band and you didn’t even know the name of, or the title of the song. But that line would stay in your mind forever, as the beginning of what would be the most terrifying moment in your life.

By the look on Fred’s and George’s faces you realised that there was something going on. They looked scared and energetic at the same time. And when they spoke to you, you felt the same.

‘It’s starting,’ Fred said, his voice quivering from the tension. ‘Lupin sent us a message.’

You didn’t need to hear more. That was it. The battle that would put an end to it all and change the world forever. Whether good or bad, you didn’t know yet, but you’d be damned if you didn’t put all your efforts in.

‘Where?’ you asked, running to your coat behind the register.

‘Hogwarts,’ George answered, his eyes scared but his posture full of courage.

‘How do we get there?’

‘Disapparate in the basement of The Hog’s Head,’ Fred replied, looking around suspiciously in the street as the three of you stepped out of your store.

You locked the doors with shaking fingers and turned to the two twins. They were looking at you and you could see the hesitance in their eyes.

‘Don’t you dare think you can leave me here!’ you said looking from one to the other. They nodded solemnly, but you could still feel they weren’t happy to put you in danger with them.

‘Ready?’ Fred asked.

He put out his hand and you and George grabbed it both. You felt the heat of the boys’ hands on your own cold hand. The nerves were rushing through your body and your stomach was turning upside down already. But you knew you could do this.

‘Ready.’

Diagon Alley disappeared and the grey stone walls of The Hog’s head built up around you. In flashes you saw faces around you and after a second they became clearer; you had arrived.

The basement was crowded. Apparently more people had been messaged about the happening. You bumped into a small witch with a big red head when you tried to turn around to look for Fred and George. Their two ginger heads were floating in the crowd of people not far from you. Squeezing yourself between strangers and familiar people you reached the twins. You grabbed George’s arm and he spun around quickly in surprise, nearly throwing you over. He swiftly caught you and placed you back on your feet.

‘Sorry, didn’t see you there,’ he mumbled with red cheeks as he kept his arm around your waist.

‘Don’t worry,’ you muttered, your attention shifting to the hand in your waist, that didn’t exactly help your nerves.

The basement was filled with excited chatter. Some people were begging their friends to stay safe, others were practicing spells, someone was walking around the room handing out healing potions, but most people were looking around curiously, trying to find someone or something that would lead them into the castle.

After three minutes, Aberforth Dumbledore walked into the basement, making it silence immediately. His face looked annoyed, like he was not happy so many people had showed up to help.

‘Okay, everyone. Shut your mouths please! Right,’ the owner said and he looked lost for words.

‘Is he gonna give a speech?’ Fred whispered, while he stared at Aberforth.

‘I really got nothing to say. In a minute this painting will open and a passage to Hogwarts will be revealed. Please don’t all run in together!’ And with that Aberforth Dumbledore disappeared back upstairs.

‘That was motivational,’ Fred whispered.

‘Well, I’ve always thought that that man was a little odd,’ you muttered.

You turned around in George’s embrace to the painting and his hand slipped from your waist to your stomach. When he realised he was still holding you he quickly let go and stepped back, on the feet of Kingsley, who happened to have just walked up to the three of you. He said nothing but grimaced, making George blush and mumble an apology.

‘Good to see you here, Fred, George, (Y/N),’ Kingsley spoke with his deep, warm voice. His voice had something soothing. It made the nerves in your body calm down.

‘What happened?’ Fred asked.

‘Neville informed us that Harry had come to the castle and that he had said he wanted to find something. He didn’t say what or-’

Kingsley was cut off by the opening of the painting. The small crowd in the basement sighed as one and then started to enter the portrait. This was it. There was no turning back now. Not that you wanted to, but the option would be nice.

‘C’mon,’ Fred whispered and took you with him to the portrait.

His hand was wrapped around your wrist tightly and you felt he was nervous. You were too. Though you had been a member of the Order for a year now, you had never actually been on dangerous missions. You weren’t that ‘deep’ in the organisation; your role was being prepared if there would be a fight. Like now.

The tunnel was long, dark and narrow. Fred was walking in front of you and warned you about the bumps on the floor, warnings that you passed on to George, who was walking behind you. The longer the tunnel lasted, the more nervous you got.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, there was light at the end of the tunnel. As Fred stepped out of the passage, giving you a better view, you found yourself in a space you had never been seen before.

The room was big and full. On the sides of the walls were bunkbeds and students were sitting on them. The middle of the room was decorated—if you could call it that, as there wasn’t much decoration—like a living room. There were a few big couches and three simple armchairs around a big table. The room looked cold, with the grey walls and no windows, but it was filled with people and the sphere was not cold at all. Friends were reuniting, there was excited chatter and it felt like it was a family-reunion.

Fred and George ran to their brother and sister and you sat down on the armrest of one of the couches. Next to you sat a boy that must be a student, but you didn’t know who he was. He looked young; he was definitely not passed his fifth year. As you looked around you saw that more of the people were as young as the boy next to you. Besides the members of the Order, the room was filled with… kids.

‘Where are we?’ you asked the boy next to you.

‘Room of Requirements,’ the boy answered politely. ‘We’ve been staying here since the common rooms aren’t safe anymore.’

Your gaze slid over all the excited faces of the students in the room. They were all so young. You knew you were young too, but they were just kids. They should be worried about exams and boy- or girlfriends, not about their lives. You were filled with an intense hate for everyone that tried to destroy those kids’ lives. The boy must have noticed it, because he slowly slid away on the couch.

On the other side of the room you saw Hermione and Ron. They were talking with Lupin and Shacklebolt. You searched for Harry but you couldn’t find him. You thought that Neville had said he was at Hogwarts?

‘How you holding up?’ Fred asked as he sat down next to you.

‘Fred, these are students! They shouldn’t be here! They are so young and…’

‘Innocent?’ Fred chuckled. ‘You haven’t spoken to Ginny yet. These kids have been terrorizing Hogwarts for the past year. I agree that they are not even half capable of fighting death eaters, but they are determined. It’s their choice.’

‘I know,’ you sighed, still wishing there was a way to protect these kids.

You looked at George on the other side of the room. He was laughing with some students that were even younger than the boy you had scared a few minutes ago. The students looked nervous, but George brought a smile to their face.

‘You would make a good couple,’ Fred said.

‘Fred!’ you cried out and hit him on his shoulder.

‘Oh, come on! There is chemistry between you! You make each other laugh and you have no secrets for each other!’

‘So? I don’t have any secrets for you either! Do you keep secrets from me?’ you asked with a smirk.

Fred looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes that made you laugh. ‘Just think about it,’ he said, while your gaze went back to George. ‘After this is all over…’

You shook your head and watched as the portrait that hid the tunnel opened again. Mrs and Mr Weasley stepped out, followed by more elder Order-members. Mrs Weasley immediately ran over to Ron, whom she hadn’t seen in so long. Fred walked over to her and his father and left you alone.

After just five minutes someone else entered the Room of Requirements. But not from the portrait. The wall on the other side shaped a door that opened. The room silenced as one and watched the door close again without anyone walking through it.

Ron and Hermione ran to the door, while everyone else watched it suspiciously. But while Hermione and Ron made their way, suddenly Harry and Luna appeared from nothing. Everyone cheered happily and the tension was gone.

‘What is happening?’ Lupin asked as he walked over to Harry.

‘What are you doing here?’ Harry asked confused; he had been gone while everyone had come.

‘Neville sent messages to the Order,’ Fred answered.

‘What are we doing, Harry?’ George asked from the other side of the room.

‘Well, the students are being gathered in the Great Hall by McGonagall. Snape fled away,’ Harry explained. ‘We’re gonna fight.’

There was a loud roar from everyone in the room and people started to leave the Room of Requirement through the same door Harry had entered. You were dragged along by the crowd and lost sight of your friends. You only managed to get loose after a while and by then you had already walked so far, you figured it would be easier to blend in with the students and go with them to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was filled with students in their pyjamas, all wondering what could be so important that they had to get up in the middle of the night. In front of the teacher’s table, McGonagall was standing, with all the other teachers behind her. Most of them you knew, but there were a few new faces—it had been a few years since you had been at Hogwarts. Even the ghosts had assembled. They were flying over the heads of the unknowing students.

You watched as the people that had come from the Room of Requirements as well filled the empty spaced in the hall. You tried to spot Fred or George, but you didn’t see them. Where were they?

McGonagall started to explain what was going on and when she mentioned Voldemort, some people wailed. Two first-years who were seated opposite of you looked terrified at each other. Their faces had gone white.

‘It’s gonna be fine,’ you whispered to them. ‘We’ll get you out safe. I promise.’ You received two little smiles from the eleven-year olds before they continued to listen to McGonagall.

Harry entered the Great Hall, looking just as lost as you felt. His gaze slid over the tables as he walked forward. Most students looked around and started to whisper to their neighbours as they saw him.

‘We are taking the most protective measures,’ McGonagall went on. ‘But they won’t last long. It is of great importance that we get you to the point of evacuation in as little time as possible. Please, anyone under the age of seventeen or not wanting to fight follow the Head boys and girls to-’

McGonagall’s voice was drown out by another voice. High-pitched, clear and dark. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. From inside your own body and outside the castle.

‘I know you want to fight. But resistance is useless. No one can defeat me and I do not want to spill the blood of so much pure wizard blood.’ The two first-years in front of you broke down in tears as the voice cut through their own thoughts. ‘Give me Harry Potter, and I will leave you unharmed. Give me Potter, and I will leave your precious school alone. Give me Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have till midnight.’

The voice stopped as abruptly as it came. Everyone in the Great Hall was looking at Harry, who was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, frozen by all the gazes.

Outside lighting stroke on the dark sky, waking up everyone from their haze. McGonagall ordered the minors to follow the teachers to the evacuation point. The Great Hall emptied until there were only a handful of students and the Order of the Phoenix left.

‘It’s only half an hour until midnight,’ Shacklebolt spoke calmly. ‘We have to be fast…’

While Shacklebolt explained the plan, the Weasley family entered the Great Hall. Relieved you sighed and a little smile broke on your face as Fred and George sat down on each side of you. You watched the rest of their family and noticed there were some changes.

‘Where’s Ginny?’ you asked. ‘And… is that Percy?’

‘Ginny’s in the Room of Requirement. Mom wanted to send her home, but Ginny refused,’ Fred spoke.

‘And Percy decided to come back just in time,’ George added.

‘…and we need someone to protect the secret passages,’ Shacklebolt said and Fred immediately volunteered.

‘Sounds like a job for me and George!’ Fred exclaimed and Shacklebolt agreed.

‘It does. (Y/N), would you lead a group of students?’ Kingsley asked, gesturing to a group of four seventh-year Ravenclaws.

‘Sure, I would,’ you said and got up. You turned around to Fred and George and looked at them strictly. ‘Be safe, alright? And don’t have too much fun without me.’

Fred just nodded, but George suddenly put his arms around you. Taken aback by the sudden embrace, you looked shocked at Fred over George’s shoulder. He laughed at you and shot you a smirk. You rolled your eyes and patted his back.

‘Be careful,’ George whispered in your ear.

‘I will, Georgie.’

- - - - - -

taglist: general HP: @harry-pottery-barn @potters-heart @kingalrdy @missswriter @figlia--della--luna @aspiringsloth20 @awritingtree @bi-andready-tocry @lilulo-12fanfiction @ananad1 @treestarrrrrrrr @your-hispanichufflepuff @thefandomplace @theeicedamericano @girllety @moonstarrnghtsky @swearingsolemnly @weasleydream @secretsthathauntus @amixedwitch @izzyyy-1 @gryffindorgirl @kitkatkl

‘general HP’ will be tagged in every part, but let me know if you want to be added to the series taglist!

MASTERLIST

#silver lining #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter #fred weasley #weasley twins #weasley x reader

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seaofghouls · 4 years ago

Text

Resident Evil Village WKM AU

PART 1

Taglist: Nobody. Comment to be tagged!

Warnings: Bullets, Guns, Monsters, Tranquilizers, Blood, Gore, Descriptions of serious injuries, ect.

The stuff you'd see in Resident Evil. ------

“Long ago, a young girl went to pick berries for her father who was hard at work. The forest greeted them with a dark, cold silence. The bushes empty. Yet, determined to find the berries, the little rascal broke free of mother’s grasp and vanished into the trees. Mother’s worried cries faded fast as the girl ran on, over vine and under branch and into the forest deep.

Feeling strange eyes upon her, the girl recalled mother’s scary tales and her throat became bone dry. Then the bat lord appeared. He greeted her warmly and bit his own wing. “Come child, quench your thirst.” He said. So she drank the thick dark blood and smiled with joy. Passing through the graveyard, menacing storm clouds loomed and the air turned bitingly cold. The girl was shivering in her thin clothes.

Then, a Dark Weaver appeared and with a click of his fingers, crafted mist into a beautiful dress. “Come child, warm yourself.” He coaxed. So she clothed herself and smiled with joy. Across waters deep and ominous she went, hoping a boat she found would take her home. But hunger’s grip tightened and her hunger grew heavy.

Then, the fish king appeared and offered one of his many fins. “Come child, eat your fill.” So the girl ate and smiled with joy once again. Continuing on, she soon entered the forest’s dark heart. Then an Iron Steed appeared, bearing a beautiful, golden gear. The creature said nothing as the girl approached.. And snatched what she thought was another gift.

The horse grew angry and summoned the other monsters. Terror filled the girl’s heart as a wild wind rose around the beasts. Suddenly, a witch appeared! Dark, yet regal. “Gift we gave, but more you took.” She snarled. In a blink, the girl was trapped in a mirror, forever.” “There, she’s asleep.” He finished, holding a baby.

“What is with the creepy story? She’s only six months old. Especially the part about being trapped in a mirror.” Y/N asked with a huff.

“The woman at the store said it was traditional. A local tale. Besides, Rose doesn’t seem to mind.” Damien gestured at the sleeping baby in his arms.

“Because she doesn’t understand it, thank god.” Y/N sighed.

“We moved here so she wouldn’t have to deal with that, remember?” Y/N frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with my memory.” Damien slightly snapped.

“Maybe I’m being paranoid. I’m just cautious, y’know?” Y/N said.

“Then, go cautiously take your daughter to bed.” Damien smiled, handing them the baby.

“I’ll finish dinner.” Damien gave Y/N and Rose both a kiss on the head.

“It’s alright, Rose. Your father doesn’t want to remember. I can’t blame him.” Y/N mumbled.

“Did you say something, dear?” Damien called out.

“Nope! I’ll put her to sleep.” Y/N called back.

Y/N carried Rose up the stairs and into her room.

Setting her into the crib, Y/N smiled. “Don’t worry Rose, I’ll be right downstairs. I won’t let those scary fairytale monsters get you.”

Y/N gave her a kiss and walked back down the stairs.

“Is she doing alright?” Damien asked as Y/N walked back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, she’s sleeping like a- well, a baby.” Y/N giggled.

“Mm, smells good. What is that?” Y/N asked, referring to the meal that Damien was cooking.

“It’s clorba de legume, a local recipe.” Damien said.

“Wow, you’ve gone full native, huh?” Y/N smiled.

“Local wine, too.” Damien smirked.

“If you’re going to be grumpy all evening, maybe you shouldn’t have any~.” Damien teased.

Y/N sighed as Damien poured wine into two glasses.

“You really need to stop worrying.” Damien said.

“It’s just.. Everything happened so fast, y’know? It’s a bit stressful.” Y/N frowned.

“Well, at least we’re all here together.” Damien gave a small smile.

“You, me, Rose, now everything’s going to be-” Y/N interrupted him.

“Seriously? You think we can just forget what happened in Louisiana?” Y/N asked.

“It happened so long ago. I just- I don’t understand why you are so-” Damien was interrupted by a bullet.

In his shoulder.

And then, what seemed to be hundreds more lodged into him.

“Damien!” Y/N cried. The lights were cut out, the blood was everywhere.

There was no coming back from that.

“Damien-! Oh god.” Y/N cried.

Hiding under the table, Y/N was covering their mouth as they looked up to see who did this.

“Abe?! What the hell?” They barked.

“Sorry, Y/N.” Abe shot at Damien’s body more.

“No! What?! Why?!” Y/N sobbed.

“Ghk-!” Y/N gasped out as they were shot with tranquilizer darts.

----

Y/N slowly cracked their eyes open with a groan as they heard a phone going off. They lurched over to unburry it and answered it.

“Is the package secure?” The other end asked.

“What the hell is going on here? Where is Abe and Rose?” Y/N demanded.

“You are not authorized to-” The phone cut out.

“Curses!” They spit.

They began to walk around, turning on their flashlight that they had.

Crows were hung from the trees and the van had crashed.

They found a house and decided to explore it. Nothing of use on the main floor.

Or in the house for that matter. Just blood stains and a trashed home.

“..What did all of this?” Y/N sighed.

By the time they got out, it was morning. They’d never been so happy to see daylight. God, that house was creepy.

“Where the hell am I?” Y/N questioned, looking at the giant castle ahead.

Walking into the town below, it was abandoned. It was utterly trashed and empty. They ran into a man hiding inside a house. He shoved a gun into their hands.

“It’s all I can spare.” He said.

“What the hell’s out there?!” Y/N pleaded, but got no answer before whatever was outside grabbed the man through the roof. They fell through the floorboards into a bit of bodies.

“Aghk-!” They cried.

“Oh god.” They cried.

Bodies littered the floor.

“..Jesus Christ.” They muttered.

“Agh-!” They howled in pain as a beast attacked them, tearing off three of their fingers.

They were thrown out of the basement into the open world, their hand bleeding out, missing fingers.

“What the hell was that?!” They cried.

“N-no! Stay back!” Y/N pulled out the gun the old man had given them and started shooting at the beast. It fell over and bled out after a few shots.

They realized they were trapped. They decided to look around the village for any keys to open the locked gates or ways out. They were able to cut the lock open on the gate blocking them with lock cutters and other various items they found around the village of death.

They heard a radio announcement about traveling to Luiza’s house for safety, so they decided to do that while picking up useful items that they ran into.

The beasts were everywhere. They were able to wrap their bleeding hand in bandages they found. They had quite a few close calls including the beasts.

They got cornered and tumbled into a lake while bleeding out surrounded by monsters before they all stopped all of a sudden and ran off when an old woman seemingly saved them.

“W-wait!” They tried to chase after the lady.

She went off on a tangent with a creepy smile. “The bell tolls for us all! They’re coming again!” She closed the gate.

“Damn it.” Y/N cussed.

The only part that Y/N was paying attention to was the fact that their daughter was in the village.

“I’ve got to find her.” Y/N said.

They continued to travel through the village, shooting at monsters. Damien’s death was still heavy on their mind.

They found a daughter and father in a shed. They found a way to get them inside and close the gate. Luiza greeted the three at the front door, albeit with a man pointing a gun at them before Luiza shooed him off.

“You’re not from this village, are you?” Luiza questioned.

“Uhm, no. I’m Y/N.” They said.

“If Elena trusts you, then so do I. Come inside, Y/N.” Luiza said.

Luiza led them to the main part of the house where the others were hiding.

They certainly did not get a warm welcome.

“There is no safe! Every sorry person out there has been ripped in half!” A man cried, his alcohol swishing from side to side from inside the bottle.

“That’s enough.” Luiza declared.

“Let us pray for those still out there.” She said.

They all joined in a circle, praying to whatever god there was out there.

Y/N started to get a bit freaked out when the old man they had helped inside started laughing and screaming in agony. The house was lit on fire after he knocked over a lit lantern.

People started to crowd the old man asking if he was okay or what was going on.

Y/N gasped as they realized. He was no longer human. He was one of the monsters.

“Oh no.”

He slaughtered almost everyone in the main room as Y/N took Elena’s hand and ran into the hall away from the fire and the beast.

“Elana, we have to go!” They yelled.

“Let them go!” Elana cried, shooting her dad in the head as he was on top of Y/N.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry father.” Elena whispered after she shot him a second time.

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. That thing wasn’t your father anymore. You did the right thing.” Y/N comforted Elena.

The beast groaned and garbled as floorboards fell on top of it causing more fire to spread. Y/N slammed the door he was in and comforted Elena as she cried.

“We’ve gotta get out of here. He was already gone.” Y/N patted her shoulder.

After looking for a while, Y/N found the truck keys.

“Damn, the fire’s moving fast. Elena, get in the truck with me.” They said.

They crashed through the wall using the truck.

The fire surrounded them, Y/N bit their lip.

Looking up, they narrowed their eyes. “Nowhere to go but up.”

They helped Elena climb up with them.

“..Elena..” A garbled voice called out.

“Father?!” Elena ran towards him. Y/N tried to stop her but failed.

“Elena, wait! That’s not him!” Y/N cried.

The floorboards were cracking.

Elena ignored them.

“Elena, take my hand!” They ordered, holding out their hand to grab.

“Y/N, go! Save your daughter!” Elena cried.

“Elena, please! Don’t give up! Reach for me!” Y/N said.

Elena fell through the floorboards into the fiery abyss below.

“Damn it!” Y/N cussed.

“Why is everyone dying on me?!” Y/N cried through gritted teeth as they climbed out of the burning house.

Y/N saw the old lady again so they ran up to her.

“Death. Death has visited them all!” She cackled.

Y/N disregarded that. They accidentally walked into the gate of the castle. Digging into their bag, they realized that they had the two keys to open the door. Artifacts, the keys were.

They were about to pull the lever to the elevator when a voice stopped them after they had walked into the castle.

“Well, well. Didn’t think anyone was left! You must be pretty tough, huh?” He had a huge hammer, Y/N observed.

“Who the hell are you?” Y/N asked.

“Oh! You’re not local! Even better.” The man smirked.

“Aghk-!” Y/N groaned as a spear was jabbed into them from out of thin air.

“Mother Celine’s going to love you.” He laughed some more as more and more metals were attached to Y/N until they passed out.

…

They came back to consciousness as they were being dragged and in chains.

“Quit your whining! We’re almost there!” The man assured.

They closed their eyes again, opening them, hearing voices.

“The person is of no real use to anybody else.. And my children do so love entertaining foreigners. Furthermore, I can assure you if you entrust the mortal to enter house Iplier, my children and I shall deliver the finest of blood to you, the finest cups of his slaughtered blood.”

“Out of my way, ugly! I wanna see!”

Y/N was certain there was some deep sobbing mixed in there as well.

“Oh~! They’re awake!”

More deep sobbing.

“Both of you shut the hell up!”

“..What..? Where..?” Y/N started.

“You mean you’ll screw around with him in private? Where’s the fun in that?”

“Give him to me and I’ll put on a show that everyone can enjoy.”

“Oh, so gauche. What do we care for bread and circuses? The person’s suffering is assured, regardless.”

“Yack, yack, the person’s privates are cut off in the castle, blah blah blah!”

“I’ve heard all of your arguments. Some less persuasive than others, but.. I’ve made my decision.”

“Benjamin. The person’s fate lies in your hands.”

“Mother Celine, I must protest! Benjamin is but a child and his devotion to you is questionable. Give the mortal to me and I will ensure they are ready.”

“Shut your damn hole and don’t be a sore loser! Go find your food somewhere else.” Benjamin growled.

“Quiet now, child! Adults are talking!”

I’m the child? You’re the one arguing with Mother Celine’s decision!” Benjamin defended.

“You wouldn’t know responsibility if it was welded to that hammer!”

“Oh, keep growing, one day your head might actually fit your ego!” Benjamin yelled.

“..Hey, don’t I get a say in this?” Y/N groaned.

“Fight fight fight fight!”

“SILENCE!” Mother Celine cried.

“My decision is final. There will be no argument. Remember where you came from.” Mother Celine said.

“Thank you.” Benjamin said.

“Lycans and gentleman! We thank you for waiting! Now, let the games begin!” Benjamin announced.

He bent down to Y/N’s level.

“Let’s see what you’re really made of, Y/N Winters.” He smirked.

He slammed his hammer down in front of Y/N and started counting down.

Y/N got up and ran as fast as they could, still handcuffed. Down the yellow tinted corridor echoing the screams of the monsters. They saw a hole in the ground. Looking around, it was the only option. So, they did the only thing they could. They took the leap.

They ran and ran from the monsters when they landed.

“Agh! Jesus Christ!” They cried.

“That’s right! Run for your life!” Benjamin cackled.

----

#resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil au #wkm #who killed markiplier #wkm au #damien #celine #wkm damien #wkm celine #wkm district attorney #fanfic #x reader

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spitpr1ncess · 3 years ago

Text

BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 2 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

(not my image)

Picking out a beautiful soft white linen dress you hum to yourself, Jools pulled through with your day off but had gotten himself roped into some business so was no longer free, not a huge loss because although you love spending time with him, it’ll be lovely to have some time to yourself. You ponder what you will do, whether you’ll read a book, draw or maybe even write something, you just feel in your soul that you need a break.

Pulling the loose dress over your head you pick out some white ankle socks, never being one to dress for anybody else but yourself, comfort is key and feeling good is the main goal. You glare at the reflection in the mirror staring wearily back at you, you feel more connected this time, yet you’re still unsure about who is staring back. Her eyes are sunken, her knees wobbly and her collarbones protruding in a boyish way. You wave off any ugly, intruding thoughts and slip your feet into the one pair of black shoes you own, you decide you’ll browse the shops before you finally head down to the local park.

Reaching for your shoulder bag you throw a couple of notes in, followed by a little pocketknife you had stolen from your father as a young girl, you can’t be too careful outside, especially wearing the branding of a working girl, everybody knows and nobody respects you except for a select few. You head out, closing the door and turning the key in the lock, you wear it around your neck with an old scrap of garden string.

You pass by Jools seat, occupied with one of the other men Boss employs whilst he was out with whatever emergency he was roped into, you notice that you miss him when he’s not here, the other stranger wouldn’t wish you a good morning on your way out.

Your mind wanders as you make your way towards the large, wooden doors in the entrance and you find yourself reminiscing over how much you’ve moved around, and how this has been your favorite base so far.

You’ve moved around a fair bit over the years as Boss has accumulated more money and has had more to spend on you. You’re currently located in a lard mansion, it has a sizeable forty rooms on each floor, with four floors in total, that’s without including the large ballroom, kitchen and diner rooms and a large lounging area. There is a basement too, full of rooms you’re forbidden from entering and a beautiful surrounding estate, it’s a secure, gated property, of course, so you can only leave with permission, given by Jools, with Boss entrusting him to be responsible with his decision. You’re allowed to freely roam the surrounding land; Boss even keeps a few horses that you and a few of the other girls happily care for. Hacking them on those gorgeous summer days and taking long afternoons just enjoying each other’s company, as an escape from your sad little lives.

You will often spend the summer evenings sat on the grass, allowing the sun to beat down onto your pale skin, allowing you to feel something, head buried in a book, escaping reality and taking ever-so-important time to yourself. The feeling of freedom you get is fleeting, but even that is enough to temporarily satiate your hunger to run away.

You look back over your shoulder and shout out to the man at Jools desk, “I’m going out into town, I’ll be back no later than six, you needn’t worry, I already have permission, it’ll say on my appointments tab on Jools computer!” he grunts, and waves you off, completely disinterested. You think back to the last time you were late home, true, it was an accident, you’d fallen asleep in the meadow and nightfall had come, Boss had sent out a search party, assuming that you had made a break for it and you could tell he was relieved more than angry when you were frog marched into his office and disciplined for your silly mistake. You shudder, thinking about Boss’s thick fingers coming into contact with your tiny throat, you live to please him yes, but it doesn’t mean you have like him.

As a direct result of your falling asleep and having a search party sent out for you, you weren’t currently a favorite between Boss’s men, with all of them being suspicious of you, expecting you to make a break for it at any moment. You were sure they’d had your face ingrained into the backs of their eyelids incase they ever saw you acting “suspicious”. You can hardly blame them but you do with they would stand down, it was exhausting having to calculate your every move, to stay out of the limelight as much as you could.

The streets are dotted with people, all busy and completely engrossed in their own perfect little lives, what you’d give to be able to live like them. A wave of sadness drowns you as you notice mothers and daughters, couples in love and shop keepers attending their stalls in the bright morning light. Your feet subconsciously decide your route as you make your way down the stone high street, enjoying the smells and sounds, the birds singing loud songs was like a beautiful music concert made just for you. You allow yourself to be completely immersed and wonder if you could slip away and never be seen again, if you could have that freedom one day, if you could be one of those mothers with daughters.

You swing a small glass door open and hear chimes ring as you step into your favorite hole in the wall café,

“Olive!” a voice booms from behind the bar as Mr. Benzo swiftly approaches you and pulls you into a bear hug, “we’ve missed you! Where on Gods given earth have you been!?”, you lean into the giant man and allow him to envelope you into a protective embrace, inhaling deeply, and imagining this to be what it is like to have a present father figure.

“Careful with her David! Hug her any tighter and you’ll snap the poor girl in half!” Mr Benzos wife stands a few feet behind, her aged and ring clad hands grasping together at her heartspace, “you’re wasting away my child! They cannot be feeding you! Come, you shall eat”, she gestures gently to a window bench, you are ushered over and take your seat, feeling utterly overwhelmed by the love coming from your favorite shop owners.

Mrs Benzo rushes herself around, building you a hearty spread, she grabs slices of bread, fruits, vegetables and slices of pies, laying them down at your table she grins, “whatever you don’t eat is going home with you”, she sighs, “and you shan’t pay a single penny, you’ll be blown away with the wind one of these days, think of it as an act of service. I mean look at you! Your eyes are so hollow that I’m afraid they’ll disappear into the back of your skull young lady!”. She brushes her finger against your protruding collarbone, you shudder, anxious at the touch of another woman, and at how maternal it was. She senses this and apologizes.

The Benzos know of your situation, they guessed as much after getting a glance at your brandishing. Mr Benzo had taken it upon himself to explain to his wife the full meaning. She had simply been heartbroken, set on spending every one of your visits spoiling and pampering you.

“Mrs Benzo, I cannot eat all of this, I might throw up, my stomach would not hold it!” You place a hand over your stomach and jokingly pat it, she tilts her head and smiles, letting out a small sigh.

“I’ve told you to call me Shirley, child. Enough with the Mrs Benzo. You are a friend here, remember that.” She sits quietly opposite you, watching you eat. Normally it might unnerve you, but her presence calms you today, you allow her maternal stares to engulf you, soaking in her care, allowing her to protect you, Lord knows you need it. David had gone back to serving customers, it was picking up into lunch hour, you hear his warming laugh as he makes conversation with them.

“Thank you… Shirley, it means so much to me, the way you treat me as a human, and an equal. You don’t see me for my brandishing, you see me as me. It’s refreshing.” You feel your eyes begin to ache as though they will cry again. She takes your delicate hand in both of hers, the warmth feels like a hug all over, you can see she has the same familiar feeling in her eyes. For a moment, you are the same. You feel safe. You feel loved. You are loved.

It gets uncomfortable for you to handle all these emotions and you pull your hand back, it’s too much vulnerability, Mrs Benzo understands, she knows it will take time for you to heal from your childhood trauma, and she has the patience of a lion, always willing to wait for you, you smile and continue to eat.

You leave Benzos with an abundance of food supplies, you’ll surely have enough to share with all the girls and Jools. Not that he needs it, he has enough supplies to last him a lifetime, after all. Smelling the air and closing your eyes, you turn and walk back towards the shops, enjoying the serenity of the early afternoon. You’re drawn into one stand in particular, a small jewellery stand, you approach quietly and notice a gorgeous emerald ring, it’s like it calls to you, you dare to reach out and touch it.

“You couldn’t afford that with all your life’s savings, silly whore.” A cold, harsh voice sounds from behind you, you turn, furious at the unnecessary comment directed your way.

“You really shouldn’t speak to wome…” you start.

“Do you know who I am? I will have you disappear if you so much as try to continue that sentence.” the cold voice shoots back. The voice grabs your wrist and pulls you close. It hurts, but you are used to being manhandled. You find yourself a little excited. Finally, something different. You slowly take in the voice’s harsh exterior. Smart black shoes, tailored black trousers, crisp and obviously ironed. A tucket white shirt and expensive cuff links. You inhale, expensive cologne, hints of pine and mint, you meet his eyes, staring into your soul, he licks his lips before continuing.

“You’re the little shit that missed her curfew. What on earth are you doing out here? Running away again?” his glare doesn’t falter, in fact, you’re sure it intensifies, your nerves are starting to get the better of you and you note that if looks could kill, you would be driving away in the back of a hearse right now.

“Speak.” The command is clear enough, yet a lump in your throat makes it impossible. You drink in his facial features, sharp and chiselled, like a God. His short black hair with a harsh undercut. It’s styled immaculately, not a single strand out of place.

“Are you a mute, whore?” the man continues, the grip on your wrist tightens, you whimper and plead with your eyes.

“No. You’re hurting me. I’m sorry, I’m allowed out now, I am. I have permission.” It practically falls out of your mouth as a measly cry.

“Do you expect me to believe that? I have half a mind to drag you by your hair back to Boss for questioning. You truly are moronic.” You consider arguing more, but deem it useless, this angry man is obviously set in his ways.

“Fine. Take me back, but I promise you, I can be out here.” You huff and stick out your bottom lip. It doesn’t go unnoticed, as the man slowly lifts his other hand, he rests his palm against your cheek and runs his thumb ever so lightly against your lip, you can sense his distraction and you curse your stupid, pouty lips. His eyes soften for a moment. Then he snaps back to reality.

“You will walk with me now, back to your house. Let’s go.” He loosens his grip on your wrist but does not let go. You begrudgingly begin the awkward walk back, nothing is said until you reach the gates.

The man buzzes the intercom and Jools answers, he must be back, internally, you relax, knowing that this will go a lot smoother than if the other man was still filling in.

“Olive? Is that you?” Jools questions, obviously anticipating your return, but not so early, his confusion is notable.

“It’s Levi. Open the gates.” The man answers back without emotion

Levi. You ponder on his name as you are practically hauled inside. You’re sure you’ve heard it before. Jools meets you at the entrance, he glances to Levi’s tight grasp on your wrist, you see the cogs going at maximum speed in his head and you know that he has assumed the worst.

“What have you done Olive?” His voice is flat but you hear the concern.

“She was out. Wandering around. Flaunting herself, like she is not on house arrest. Touching expensive jewellery, you should really pay more attention Wilkinson.” The use of Jools last name is alien, you’ve almost forgotten he has one.

“Levi” Jools begins cooly, he holds back a snort. “Olive is not on house arrest anymore, although I admire your commitment to your job.” You cannot make eye contact with Jools or you will be beaten for laughing, you are sure of it, Levi drops your hand like you have shocked him, he grunts and addresses Jools, “Wilkinson. Were you not one of Bosses favourites, I would break your nose. You are stupid to let her wander around alone. If I were in charge, I would leash her, like a little dog. A stupid, little dog.” you can tell this was one of his kinder name callings. “She has plans to get away. I can tell, and I’m warning you, she is not to be trusted,” Jools interrupts, his tone is equally aggressive as he bites back,

“Levi, Boss has not tasked you with worrying about the girls. You should go back to your real duties. Olive is my problem, not yours.”, You’re sure there is a little possessiveness behind his voice. For a moment, it is like Levi and Jools are facing off like two aggressive hunting animals, and you are the winning prey. Levi opens his mouth to say something, and then resigns himself, he sighs and turns away to leave.

“I will catch you when you try to run eventually, little puppy. And I will beat the living shit out of you for disrespecting Boss after everything he has done for you. Watch your back.”

He is gone before you can make a snide remark back, though you should know better, Jools would surely step in to protect you here, that you are sure of. You settle at sticking your tongue out in the direction in which he left, Jools laughs heartily.

“You stupid girl. There isn’t a person alive who has spoken back to Levi Ackerman, he is Boss’s right hand man, you should be more careful.” He ruffles your hair playfully.

“There is something about him Jools, that makes me want to provoke him. A feeling that he may not be capable of hurting me.” Jools snorts.

“You really are an idiot,” He pauses, “though there was something about the way he looked at you, like he wants to devour you alive,” he shudders, “creepy.”. Your cheeks blush, you would never say so aloud, but you might fancy the idea of being eaten by Levi Ackerman, Boss’s right hand man.

You breathe in and start, “I’m going to retire to bed Jools, I am tired. Give these pastries and pies to the other girls. Mrs Benzo sent them.” You hand the bag to Jools and smile. “What time is my first call tomorrow?” Jools looks at the screen of his computer, he clicks the mouse a few times and raises an eyebrow.

“10. Seems like Boss is set to be paying you a visit tomorrow. You’d better spend some time making yourself extra presentable tonight Ol, you want to remind him why you are worth keeping, and not discarding…” You shudder, Boss has made it abundantly clear that when you’re no longer deemed suitable as a working girl, he will send you away to be married off, or “dispose” of you, you don’t fancy either of the options and considering your savings are coming along nicely, you won’t have to endure this all for much longer.

“Thanks Jools. Love you.”. You turn on your heels and head back to your room. You spend the evening showering, shaving, sugaring and cleansing every inch of your body, ready for tomorrow, your mind keeps wandering back to a particular pair of sharp eyes and a chiselled jaw. How he would leash you and “beat the living shit out of you.”

You shake away the thought one last time and retire to bed. You close your eyes and pull your blankets up.

“Levi. Ackerman. Huh.”, you drift off to a comfortable slumber, something that happens once in a blue moon.

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