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rosewaterandivy · 1 month

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answer July— ah, said July—

summary: from Summersong Request-athon, inspired by "July, July!" as requested by marvelous Meg aka @courtingchaos 💜 || The soft pad of your index finger trails down the scar of his jaw, lingering there as you smile, a little different from before.

Softer, somehow. As if it’s just for him.

w.c.: 4700

pairing: e.m. x f!reader

themes: prosaic summer feels, the ephemeral nature of time, processing trauma, mention of previous bodily harm & its aftermath, insecurities and the like, body worship

a/n: long time, no see my fellow fiends. did i let this run away from me? maybe. do i care? not a wit! thanks for tagging along with the team, aka let eddie have a nice, normal summer for once - hope you enjoy! title from "Answer July" by Emily Dickinson.

Summer slipped by syrupy slow, lingering around the edges. All honey-coated and sweet, so much so in fact, that it struck one Eddie Munson as rather strange.

Granted, his spring had been touch and go what with being the town pariah and nearly bleeding his ever-loving guts out in the Upside Down and all. So maybe a slow uneventful summer was well-warranted after all of that.

May sprinted past with its final school bells ringing and a quick dash across the stage at graduation to snatch a diploma from Higgins before the school board could think better of it. He hastily threw together a quick campaign to welcome Will Byers back to town and only somewhat regretfully passed the mantle of Hellfire over to Henderson.

He got himself a job, nothing to write home about, but certainly something to pass the time and get him out of the house. Wayne insisted Eddie didn’t need to work and Eddie said the same for him, the never-ending cycle rearing its head once more.

The government hush money was, after all, nothing if not generous.

Still, he felt ill at ease in the new house. Liable to crawl out of his skin at times.

Besides, if it weren’t for the job, he’d have never set his sorry sights on the newbie behind the counter at the soda fountain.

Yes, of fucking course Hawkins, Indiana had an old-fashioned soda shop pharmacy combo.

Which did nothing to help his sweet tooth.

So, on the days he happened to close the record store, Eddie would peer across the street searching for a familiar head of hair, usually swept up onto a bun or ponytail by day’s end, and a smile that could melt the cockles of his cold, black heart.

The bell chimed as you rung up a sale for a customer at the register, the cash drawer grazing a bit of skin at your hip as you turned.

“Be with you in a sec!”

Eddie settled himself on a well-worn stool and drummed his fingers along the polished counter. He watched as you counted change for one of the old biddies who all but forced casserole down the throats of the Munson men after he’d been discharged from the hospital.

She thanks you and shoves a dollar in the tip jar as she makes to leave.

“Looking lovely as ever Pearl,” A low familiar voice says.

“Oh, you sweet talker,” The older woman swats at Munson still perched on his stool. She tsks and tugs at a lock of hair that’s fallen from where he’d tied it back in frustration. “One of these days I’ll come at you with my scissors, young man.”

Eddie sighs dramatically and swivels on the stool as she reaches the door, “Promises, promises. And yet…”

Pearl pushes the door open and says with a wink, “You’ll never see me coming.”

The door falls shut behind her, allowing him to return his attention to you behind the counter.

At the far end of the shop, you’re hefting open freezer doors and scooping out near perfect spheres of ice cream onto sugar and waffle cones, scoffing when someone requests a cup instead.

He’s surprised to see no one else behind the counter, there’s usually at least one person to man the counter with during the busier hours, the after dinner rush.

The door keeps chiming as people join the line, eyeing the offerings— campfire marshmallow, french toast, vanilla, strawberry, rainbow sherbert— the list goes on and on. Some lean over and whisper to their dates, earning a tittering giggle here and there. Sticky hands of children smack against the glass pointing out their selection as you shove another scoop onto a towering waffle cone.

And it’s then that Eddie decides he’s had quite enough of this.

Tossing his bag behind the counter and hopping over it, all long limbs and pointy elbows. His knees pop slightly as he passes behind you to grab a scoop from the water trough.

“What’re you doing?”

“Uh, helping out?”

And without another word, he turns to the next customer and takes their order, only stepping on the toes of your Keds once or twice before locating the correct flavor.

“God,” He mutters under his breath, the tendons of his forearm prominent as he scoops a glob of pink cotton candy ice cream onto a sugar cone. “People actually like this crap?”

You merely shrug in response before sliding the freezer door shut and opening the next. It goes like this for nearly half and hour before Vickie stumbles in from the service entrance, her cheeks tinged pink and accompanied by a dazed look in her eye.

“Sorry, sorry!” She frantically apologizes, clocking in with her punch card.

Tying on an apron, which Eddie never bothered to do, she greets the customers at the till and rings them up while you make what could very well be the hundredth shake ordered that day, the mixer revving loudly over your retort.

“I’ll allow it,” You turn with a knowing smirk to Vickie, “But you owe me big time, Little Red.”

“Details?” She squeaks.

“Oh, that and more Vic,” You laugh as the machine whirs to a stop.

Deftly, you pour the shake into a cup and shake the canister of whipped cream vigorously. Eddie tries and fails to hide the blush coloring his cheeks as your shirt rides up with the motion. The ‘JERK’ emblazoned on your chest pulling taut against the swell of your breasts from the movement.

He nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Shit,” He rasps as his throat pulls tight.

Passing the shake over with a polite smile to a customer, you thump him forcefully on the back.

Which would be all well and good, if not for the fact that he wasn’t expecting it, and, as a result, falls bodily into your chest, legs tangling with yours, and takes the pair of you down to the mat behind the counter.

“Ow.”

Peering open an eye, he finds Vickie, arms crossed and toe tapping the tile floor, looking down at the both of you with a bemused pull of her lips.

“See, this is why it’s employees only behind the counter,” You say with a grunt as you peel yourself from the floor. “You’re not OSHA certified, Munson.”

Eddie digs the heel of his palms into his eye sockets, hoping that maybe he can just sink into the floor and forget this ever happened.

Because you’re warm, what with having worked up a sweat manning the counter single-handedly and your legs are nice; too nice maybe, with the way his heart is kicking up in his chest, to say nothing of what’s kicking up in his pants.

“Sorry,” He sighs, coming to a seated position. “Are you okay?”

Dusting your hands against the denim cutoffs you’re sporting, you turn and give him a smile. “Never better.”

Legs still tangled, you unwind your limbs from his, crisp white Keds knocking against scuffed Reeboks. He takes the hand you offer and allows himself to be pulled up, only to be greeted by six beatific smiles and less than subtle winks or nods.

“Sooooo,” Dustin drawls, fingers drumming against the glass of the freezer, “Fun trip?”

The ensuing laughter and taunts from what was formerly his favorite group of high schoolers, is enough to make Eddie miss the solitude of Reefer Rick’s cabin.

If May was a sprint, then June was a dive into cool water.

Rope swings lassoed around tree branches, splashing into a placid lake from great heights. Blankets spread on rocks and grass for makeshift picnics. The hum of cicadas as lips wrapped around lifted bottles of booze from the Harrington’s liquor cabinet.

Nearly a month gone and Eddie still hadn’t worked up the courage.

Which is how he found himself perched on rock formation that bordered Lover’s Lake with the boys— Harrington, Byers, and Argyle— playing barely tipsy lifeguard as you swam circles around Nancy, Robin, and Vickie. The latter two had somehow wound themselves into a Gordian Knot of limbs and had earned an eagle-eyed glare from one former captain of the swim team.

“Go to the shallows!” Steve called out, a half-empty bottle of whiskey at his feet. “No, Rob,” He huffed and stood up, “You gotta use your arms, like this!” He demonstrated with a perfect backstroke that Robin seemed woefully unequipped to replicate.

“What?!”

Robin’s befuddled call echoed against the rocks lining the shore and spurned Steve into action.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, passing the bottle off to Eddie. “Stay there ya dingus!”

Steve’s body elegantly cut into the water and he surfaced to a smattering of applause from those still perched on the rock.

“Good form, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Eddie decreed before taking long pull from the bottle.

“Now way man,” Argyle piped up, “That’s at least a 9.The way he slipped into the water like that? Some top tier stuff right there.”

He elbowed Jonathan who was preoccupied with blowing rings from his joint.

“Huh? Oh, uh. 5?”

Steve merely rolled his eyes and swam toward Robin and Vickie, who where no closer to shore now than they were when this whole charade began.

“You’re shitting me dude. A 5 out of 10?”

“Oh, fuck.” Jonathan completed one rather slow blink in Eddie’s direction. “I thought it was like, out of five. My bad.”

Argyle called out the new score from the judges to Steve, who had his hands full with Robin and Vickie’s frantically kicking and thrashing limbs, so much so, that he was rather relieved when you swam up beside him to help.

Eddie placed the bottle between his feet and leaned back on his hands, face turned toward the night sky.

Stars littered the inky blue like so many twinkling lights. A few lightning bugs buzzed further along the edge of the wood, a soft yellow glow to guide through the dark. The lake grew calm again, small lapping waves skirting the shore as distant voices grew closer.

“Hey man,” Argyle nudged Eddie’s shoulder with his, knocking him from his reverie. “How’s our favorite soda jerk?”

He smiled despite himself, “She’s fine, I guess.”

“Hmm. And Operation Meatball?”

Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes, “Henderson got to you too, I see. That kid needs to get a hobby.”

Dustin, and the rest of his band of hellions, had gotten it into their heads that Eddie and you were destined to be. Had an entire notebook dedicated to plans and named the whole endeavor after a scene from Lady and the Tramp, which Eddie couldn’t even bring himself to protest.

“I dunno dude,” Argyle shrugged, “She’s schmokin and I may have seen her eye you a time or two.”

He was glad for the cover of night, because his face felt positively on fire.

“You know, if you’d—” Argyle began, only to get cut off by the sound of approaching footfalls.

“Hey guys,” You greeted, stepping onto the rock and dripping water onto Eddie’s arm. “Oh, shit, sorry Ed!” You take a step back and grab a towel from a nearby bag. Tying your hair up in the striped towel, you settle back at his side. “Ooh, got any more of that?”

He follows your eyes to the bottle at his feet, and stretches to grab it. Your damp fingers brush his along the neck of the bottle, and he, impossibly, blushes all the more.

“S’all yours.”

“Much obliged,” You say with a nod toward him.

Your lips wrap around the bottle, and Eddie can’t help but watch a rivulet of water trickle its way down your throat. His fingers itch to chase it, his tongue longs to taste it.

Jonathan deploys a well-timed cough and pointed glance in Eddie’s direction to excuse himself and Argyle.

“Catch you later chica,” Argyle promises with a grasp to your shoulder, “Lemme know when that horchata flavor comes in!”

You promise to do so with a laugh and a wave, before turning your attention back to the water. Eddie sits at your side, quiet, save for the movemnt of his fingers as he fiddles with his rings. There’s a few sounds from Steve dutifully pouring Robin and Vickie into the BMW with conferring with Nancy as she wrangles Jonathan and Argyle into the station wagon.

“You good?”

Turning at the sound of Nancy’s voice, Eddie can see your mouth pull into a smile, the white of your teeth bringing to mind a cheshire cat. Your elbow knocks into his as you duck toward him conspiratorially.

“Whaddya say, Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

Lightning bugs float around your damp hair that’s fallen from its turban, water slick waves drying slowly in the summer heat. A halo blurry gold around your head, Eddie loses all faculty of language, lost in the soft glow cast against your sun warmed skin.

“Take me home?”

He merely nods in response, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“I’m good!” You call back to Nancy and take another pull from the bottle.

“Call me when you’re home!”

The sound of car engines turning over fills the air, tires crunching over gravel and dried pine needles littering the forest floor. The heat of the day quickly dissipates, replaced with a soft breeze that alleviates a bit of the humidity. And it’s quiet on the shore, save for the clinking of the bottle as you take sips every so often.

For all his gregarious and dramatic antics, truth be told, Eddie didn’t quite know how to simply be. At least, not since spring break with the nearly dying and all of that. He’d returned to the land of the living a little more somber, recovering in the hospital between hushed tones from doctors and nurses, louder exclamations from Henderson and his brood, the comforting weight of Wayne’s hand at his shoulder.

Sure, he’d rallied.

Put on a brave face for the kids, found familiarity in a strained smile mirrored in Steve. Noticed his own body jerking in time with Robin’s at the sound of an unanticipated loud noise. Was quick to cover his discomfort with a joke buoyed by Argyle’s raucous laugh. Found himself helping Nancy plan outings to take everyone’s mind off of things. Sought out Jonathan to share a smoke when it all got to be too much.

But you—

He never minded the quiet with you.

Eddie could maybe, for a moment, let it fall away.

A clink of a glass bottle broke his reverie as it joined the others discarded on the ground.

“This is nice,” You said with a languid stretch, arms raised above your head and falling in a graceful arc as you settled back against the rock.

He had to agree.

“Can I uh, ask you something?”

Your voice had taken on an unfamiliar tone, almost as if you made yourself smaller and unsure. It wasn’t his favorite, he had to admit. Eddie preferred the unapologetic way you carried yourself, a royal flush of confidence which you bandied about with no inhibitions.

Timid didn’t suit you, at least, not in his humble opinion.

He knocked shoulders with you, tried to inject some levity into his voice.

“Shoot.”

“Well,” You squirmed next to him, “And you don’t have to answer this if like, it makes you uncomfortable— the last thing I wanna do is offend you, swear to God.” You take a breath to steel yourself. “I just, I noticed you weren’t swimming today.”

“Ah.”

“I mean,” You clear your throat, “You really never swim, not at Steve’s pool, not here. So.”

“Are you asking if I can swim?” He jokes, “Because, I’m definitely capable. Dear old Dad threw me into a creek,” crick, “And told me to get on with it.”

A hushed laugh falls from your lips, “So, you can but you don’t. Any reason why?”

“Well that,” He says, softer now, “Is quite the story.”

You hum, content with the response not pushing for more than he’s willing to share.

“Tell me someday?”

And oh, is he in trouble. Because the odds of that are more far likely than you’d think.

You’re quick to pack up after that. Eddie trails after you, tossing an odd can or cigarette butt into a trash bag and hauling it to the van. He scratches the light stubble of his jaw, nail catching along the scar decorating his cheek. It’s not as bad as it had been, mostly white with pink tinged edges, and receding into his jawline enough to slip most notice.

It’s not that Eddie regrets the scars, he did what he had to do— the whorls of pink and white puckered skin that now embellished him from hip to shoulder were a simple reminder of that.

Just not one that he’s keen to advertise.

He lets you fiddle with the radio, static crackling through the speakers before the opening riff of Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” sails through. An easy smile lights up your face as you lean back in the seat and sing along.

I’ll be with you my darling, soon, I’ll be with you when the stars start falling

His grip tightens on the wheel and he wills himself to focus on the road ahead and not the soft croon of your voice. Which is kind of difficult given how sweet you sound, how desperate he is for your touch.

He rolls up to your apartment complex by the song’s end, having had the pleasure of your signing for the duration of the drive. And Eddie’s probably biased, but he thinks you could give Jack Bruce a run for his money.

He parks the van in front of your building, letting it idle as you unbuckle your seatbelt. You’re grooving a little bit in your seat, and Eddie allows himself a moment to be selfish— gazing as you shake out your mostly dry hair and sway in time to the song, a secret smile pulling at his lips.

Opening your eyes, you meet his gaze. Leaning over the consol, your fingers caress his jaw, turning him to face you fully. The soft pad of your index finger trails down the scar of his jaw, lingering there as you smile, a little different from before.

Softer, somehow. As if it’s just for him.

I’ve been waiting so long, to be where I’m going in the sunshine of your love.

But July—

July passes like a dream, as delightful as the sugary syrup currently crawling its way down your arm. The bomb pop melting all too quickly in the height of the summer sun, trickles of red, white, and blue cascade down your sun hewn skin.

A screech pierces the air as Eddie leans over from his seat on the Harrington’s patio to lick the drips from your arm.

Loud enough to draw the attention of the kids and soon his soft huffs of laughter as replaced with a prolonged “Eeeewwww,” from the girls and an offended scoff of “Gross,” from Henderson.

“Can it!” Steve says, volleying a beach ball at his head, knocking his ever-preset baseball cap into the chlorinated water.

Eddie nods in thanks before continuing his assault of your arm.

“Shit, babe, no teeth!”

He ignores this and elects to dig his teeth into the temptation of your skin. You swat him away and recline back in your chair, Raybans affixed to your face, a pout on your lips.

“You’re no fun,” He grouses, kicking back in his recliner. “You use teeth.”

“Artfully,” You quip back in reply, “Poetry will be written about the exploits of my chompers, the deftness, the skill with which I decorate canvases of skin.”

And well yeah, Eddie would know. He has several bruises blossoming along his torso and thighs from said exploits.

So he really couldn’t complain.

He lets the clubmasters slide back onto his face, the blue polarized lenses giving the scene a cooler, dreamier tint. His hand falls to the side, fingers walking their way over to tangle with yours. You give him a quick squeeze before turning your attention back to your latest bookstore acquisition, The Handmaid’s Tale.

In fact, once Eddie got over himself and blurted out some amalgamation of ‘Can I take you out?’, you’d booped him on the nose in response, much to his horror, and waited a beat to say:

“Sure thing, stud,” — Eddie’s summer had only gotten better.

Was it annoying to have near daily occurrence of high schoolers singing “Summer Lovin’” at him? Yes. Were you worth it? Obviously.

Eddie had attempted to date, briefly and disastrously, in the past. In that respect, maybe he was a little gun shy.

But one night stands? Quickies? Handies after a deal at a party? Bjs in the back of the van?

Yeah, that he’d done. And was definitely the more enthusiastic partner in retrospect. And now, with you?

Well, suffice it to say that your first round in the sack wasn’t exactly picture perfect, and he’d nearly gotten a broken nose for all his effort. But, y’know, learning curve and all that, maybe some lighting was required so he could avoid getting socked in the mouth or something.

“Yuck, what is that?” Dustin says with thinly veiled annoyance, gesturing to your hand clasped in Eddie’s. “Hands Across America?”

“The fuck,” Eddie perks up, squinting as he flips his sunglasses onto his forehead. “Hands doing what now?”

“Pfft,” You blow a raspberry and lazily thumb over to a new page, “You don’t even know what day it is, or what’s going on.”

“Yeah, and I wish I knew even less.”

“Hands Across America was months ago, by the way.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

“Really and truly.”

“So, hey,” Eddie ignores Dustin’s gagging and turns toward you in earnest. “D’ya like sex?”

“Uh huh.”

“And travel, you like that, right?”

“Yep.”

“Well then, sweetheart,” He drops your hand from his, drawing your interest away from the plot.

You huff, perturbed by the interruption and glance his way.

“Then you can fuck right off.”

Eddie raises a solitary finger elegantly, aristocratically even. Something practiced time and time again until it became second nature. It’d be kind of impressive if he weren’t so damned annoying about it, flipping the bird every chance he got.

A trait that, unfortunately, the young Wheeler had adopted as his own.

Despite yourself, a laugh breaks from your lips, loud enough to draw the other’s attention from the pool.

“God, I hate you.”

“Really and truly?”

“Oh, you bet sunshine.”

Unbeknownst to the pair of you, Steve and Robin had corralled the kids out of the pool and lured them away with the promise of pizza. Nancy sidles out from the sliding glass door with the cordless in hand, tossing it over to Eddie.

“We got the usual— cheese, pepperoni, and cheesy bread. But I know you’re particular, so.”

“Right on, Wheels. Good lookin’ out.”

Eddie grabs for you again fingers twining with yours as he rattles off the usual to the pizza guy as Nancy makes her way back inside.

“Hey man, can I get an order of mushroom and black olive with the banana peppers and a shit ton of red pepper flakes? Uh huh, yeah.”

He pulls the phone away from his face, tucking it against his jaw to mouth something to you.

You watch his lips, red from one too many popsicles, form the words.

“Garlic sauce? Hell yeah.”

He returns to the call.

“And the— Oh, you heard that? Cool. Thanks, man.”

He hangs up and tosses the phone onto a rumpled pile of towels, tugging at your arm.

“Ugh, what,” You grouse, finally dropping your book on the patio.

“You’re so far away,” He whines, draping the back of his hand across his forehead to heave a woeful sigh. “Oh, when will my beloved return from the war?”

You roll your eyes and clamber over to his pool chair, straddling his hips. “Okay, calm down Scarlett. Tara is thattaway.” You hike a thumb somewhere in the general vicinity of what you’re pretty sure is south. You laugh and crawl your way into his lap.

And, here’s the thing:

It’s easy.

A foreign concept in Eddie’s life up until this particular point.

Which is to say, that since the advent of your relationship with him, Eddie found himself spending more time on his knees than he ever had amongst the pews.

While there’s no catechism for for this particular piety, he’ll take this act of communion for what it is—

His lips and tongue spouting devotionals as he kneels between your thighs. And he’d never been one for God, but maybe He’d made it so two bodies can fit holy wholly together.

After all, he’d been penitent enough.

You twine a streamer of his hair around your finger, head slotting into the cul-de-sac of his throat. His arms wind about your hips, anchoring you in place.

Steve sticks his head out to say he’s forcing the kids on a field-trip to get the pizza, Nance and Robin are grabbing some drinks from the store.

You hum in idle contentment and sink further into Eddie, as if he could consume you entire.

If my body is of your body and your body is of mine, can ever the two be parted? What lies in me now does in you, a reflection in kind.

The marks that decorate his skin, both intentional and accidental, fail to define him.

If they ever really could.

You’d traced their shape, plotted their paths, and transmuted them before his very eyes. The weight, the lead sinking and skittering and pulling him down was no more.

“If I could,” you’d said softly one night, a riot of arms and legs tangled against his own, a lone finger rhapsodizing against his ribs, travelling a familiar continent. “I’d paint you golden.”

No, not gilt.

But gold.

It still daunts Eddie how freely he fell— for you and the effervescent joy that flourished in your wake. It used to unnerve him, if he thought about it too much. For the longest time, he wasn’t sure if what he felt was real, or simply a facsimile of love.

He learned not to dawdle in his darker moods.

He’d hummed at your declaration, so much more accustomed to gloomier comparisons. You’d turned up at him, cleaving your chin across the ladder of his ribs, eyes big and brighter than any star he’d ever seen.

And he hadn’t known what to say.

Weeks had passed and he still hadn’t a clue how to respond.

“Hey,” Dustin yells, striding out of the sliding glass door. “Dinner’s ready!” He waits impatiently, striking a similar pose to that of Steve when he’s at his wit’s end.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, shooing him away and slinging a leg off of the recliner.

He takes you with him, much to your protest.

“Noooo,” you whine, “Eddie, the physical therapist said—”

“That I’m fine,” He reminds you, securing his grip under your thighs as he carries you inside the house.

Your petulant pout demands satisfaction, and he acquiesces, dipping his head to yours in a quick kiss.

“Y’know,” he says, voice rumbling and low as everyone fixes up their plates in the kitchen. He sets you on the island counter, his hands spread just past your thighs, arms loosely caging you in.

He smells like summer— sugar and chlorine and salt and the tell-tale wisp of a cigarette. His hair is loose and wild, sheltering you from prying eyes as he rests his head against yours.

It hits him like a thunderclap and descends as quickly as revelation.

“I’d follow you into the sun.”

It’s not a declaration, but a simple fact.

Love.

He’d tell you someday, but not quite yet.

For now, he’ll watch your lips kick up in that adorable smile of yours, the kind that crinkles the corner of your eyes from the sheer amount of joy packed in it. Allowing himself to float on the thinnest of air just for a moment.

This summer, you’ve been his North Star, always there.

And he hopes you always will be.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #cee's summersong request-athon

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 1 year

Text

Actions and Consequences

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warnings: implied sex (between reader and ex-boyfriend) past boyfriend being rough and mean to reader, eating, official set up of dynamic and rules, a little bit of spicy for you guys 💋(hint)

7 Years Ago

“Two more weeks… I can’t believe it.” Y/n sighs, leaning her head against the shoulder of the boy laying beside her. He smiles, passing a hand over the top of her head, smoothing down her static hair.

“We’re going to be graduates… fuck it’s crazy.” She cranes her neck, smiling as she meets green eyes. He leans forward, pecking her lips quickly. “Alright, let me up. My moms gonna be home soon.” Y/n rolls over, taking the black sheet with her as he climbs out of bed, searching for his shorts.

“Good, I need to help her finish the desserts for your party tomorrow.” After months of hopping from one house to the next, Y/n has finally been able to settle into the guest bedroom of her boyfriend’s family home with what little belongings she owns. She sits up, letting the sheet fall around her hips as she snags her t-shirt and leggings off the floor.

“Oh yeah? What y’all making?” He tugs on his tank top, running his hand through his spiky blond hair as he eyes the naked expanse of her back.

Y/n shrugs, pulling on her shirt before slipping into her leggings. “Um I think a lemon cake.” The young man flops onto the bed and she laughs, laying back down beside him, her fingers twining together to rest over her stomach.

“I do like lemon.”

She rolls her eyes with a smile, “Trust me, everyone knows Trever.” He nudges her with his elbow and she laughs, a joy filled sound she’s finally getting use to.

“God, I can’t wait, finally get out of high school and we can just… do whatever. Well I mean I’ve got collage next fall but still.” Trever sighs blissfully before turning to look at his girlfriend. “Gonna come be my secret roommate? Get me in all kinds of trouble.”

“You wish,” Y/n scoffs, nudging him back. “You know my classes start a semester before yours.” Trever stays silent for a moment, Y/n staring up at the ceiling unaware of the change in his once easy expression.

“You’re still serious about that?” The question catches her off guard, her head turning to look at him. His face is pinched, like he can’t believe her. Y/n sits up, turning to face him fully.

“Y-yeah… Trever I’ve been serious about this. It’s the whole reason I work three jobs and bust my ass in school every week.”

He pushes himself up, leaning against his head board. “Look, babe, I’m not trying to be mean here but… do you really think you can do it? You’re talking about the FBI here… they don’t just take anyone. Especially…” He hesitates and her temper flares, her eyes narrowing.

“Especially, what?”

Sighing he gestures to her with a splayed hand, “Ya know… little country girls who don’t really know what they are doing. If you really want to work somewhere that makes you feel like you’re making a difference, why not go for something you’re almost guaranteed a job?” His expression shifts like he’s had the most brilliant idea, ignoring the obvious hurt growing across Y/n’s features. “911 dispatcher! You won’t even have to waste your money on-.”

“Fuck you.” She spits, standing and marching from the room, anger filling her chest to the point it almost hurts.

“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that!” Trever follows her out into the hallway, grabbing her by the shoulder as they reach the top of the stairs. She spins and shoves him, but he plants his feet, gripping her painfully by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever fucking talk to me like that again. Not in my goddamn house. You’re lucky my parents are even letting you stay here and you’re gonna act like that?” He shakes her harshly, her teeth slamming together making pain shoot up her jaw.

“At least your parents fucking believe in me! Your moms the one that paid off the rest of my entrance fee last week!” She struggles against him, her hands pushing at his chest but his fingers dig into her muscles. His face reddens but before he can say anything the front door swings open. A short, black haired woman stares up at them in confusion, her mouth open slightly.

Trever steps back quickly and Y/n moves down the stairs, keeping her eyes on her so-called boyfriend. “What is going on? I could hear you screaming from the front porch.” She closes the door behind her, her many bracelets tinkling with the movement as she sets her purse down on the landing.

“Nothing, Mrs. Dwayne.” Y/n says quietly, moving down the stairs until she is beside the woman. “I need to go to work…”

“I thought you were going to bake with me dear?” The sad look that passes across the older woman’s brown eyes makes Y/n’s throat constrict, that hated feeling of pinpricks forming in her nose. In the past five months of her relationship with Trever, Mrs. Dwayne has been nothing short of a mother figure to Y/n. Teaching her to cook, to clean, showing her the basic skills of life without so much as a disgruntled look. She didn’t want to hurt her now.

“I-I will.. I mean I am… I just. I need to go get something for work, I mean. I’ll be back.” Before Mrs. Dwayne or Trever can say a word Y/n is bolting out the front door, towards her run down car, rage and devastation simmering in her chest so heavily she can’t think anymore. The need to be anywhere but here propelling the car into motion.

She wouldn’t break down here, not where anyone could find her, when she’s alone she’ll let the tears run freely and her sobs fill the empty space around her.

Present Day

The rest of Tuesday had crept by silently, nothing like the first half of the day. You had joined Aaron for dinner in the dining room, where he informed you he had a few conference calls to make in the morning and he would check on you when he was done. That was many hours ago.

You had been awake long before the sun rose behind charcoal clouds, listening to the rain pelt your window relentlessly. You sit propped against your pillows, lost in deep thought… shameful deep thoughts. Most of your night was spent tossing and turning, what little sleep you did get wasn’t filled with the usual empty darkness, or the occasional bad dream; instead Aaron had taken up every unconscious thought.

You had dreamt of his hands on your body, much like the day before, only this time there was even less in between his burning palms and your skin. You could feel the reverberation of unheard words from his chest into your back, his hands slipping up, up, up cupping your breasts through your bra. His hips ground against your back, the buckle of his belt biting into your skin as his erection pressed against the swell of your ass. Then his palm began to travel lower, straight to your-

You shake your head fiercely, before smothering yourself with a pillow, groaning loudly. You stay like that for a few long minutes, desperately trying to ignore the ache between your thighs until it becomes to much. Throwing the pillow across the room you climb out of bed and head straight for the bathroom, determined a scalding shower would set your mind right.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Steam billows out of the room after you, a scratchy towel wrapped tight around your body, another holding your hair in place atop your head. The skin along the tops of your shoulders and breasts glow pink, having used the hot water liberally. You make your way over to the bags you had placed on the floor last night, grabbing the closest one and rummaging through it.

Something smooth and soft slips against your hand and you grab it, pulling it free of the wadded up clothing. Realizing you should really organize everything before it all becomes a wrinkled mess. Dropping the bag you unfold a Champaign colored silk night gown. It’s simple, a trim of lace adorns the bodice and it reaches about the middle of your thighs, a small slit up both sides. You can’t remember Aaron ever placing it in the cart otherwise you’d of protested.

A large part of you doesn’t want to wear it, or any of the clothing for that matter. That part was called shame. Shame that he had so easily talked you into letting him buy you all of these clothes, better yet talked you into this whole mess in the first place.

But another part of you, the one that really did not want to wear the same sweats again for the 8th day in a row, won the battle. With a defeated sigh you change into the gown. It’s hugs your body, accentuate your curves and clinging to your damp skin. It’s soft, comfortable, and smells clean, that’s all that matters to you.

You grab your over night bag, pulling out your iPod and headphones before crawling back into bed. You set up your computer to finish working, before pressing play on the little pink device and popping in an ear bud. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand only once, but you ignore it, instead typing away on your computer.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning slowly rolls into lunch, a half eaten croissant sandwich lays on your nightstand as you dutifully work, bobbing your head in time to the music.

‘What’s in your head, in your head? Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie-ie, oh’

Something connects with your door, the sound reverberating through the room making you scream. You rip out your ear bud, holding your breath as a series of knocks rattle your door, making your stomach swoop and drop all at once. Slowly you move from your bed to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open a crack. Aaron’s usual hard stare greets you, but his cheeks are tinged red, his lips pressed into a thin line. A shudder wracks through your body at the intensity of his stare, your palms feeling clammy against the door handle.

“Um… hi?” He doesn’t say a word as he wraps a hand around the door, forcing it open and you out of his way as he barges inside. “Hey!”he stops in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip and the other rubs at his forehead. He’s dressed in a darker pair of blue jeans this time, paired with a black collard shirt, probably more appropriate for his conference calls.

“Does your phone not work, or have you just been-.” Aaron turns then and whatever annoyed tyrant he was about to go on dies on his tongue at the sight of you. You’re standing at the door, eyebrows raised and eyes a little wide in panic, but it’s not your expression that stops him. His eye dip to your body, noticing what you’re wearing and something in his stomach stirs at the sight. The dress is stretched around your body, specifically across your stomach, an indent where your belly button is. Your hips are accentuated and he realizes with a small thrill that the fabric is just barely see through as he gaze travels from your breasts to your face.

“Fuck.” He breaths out, and a shiver skirts down your spine at the rumble of his voice, blooming into something warm and fuzzy between your hips. Aaron slowly makes his way to you, and this time you stay rooted to the carpet, your chin lifting and the back of your head bumping against the door as he stops a few mere inches in front of you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Aaron reached up, dragging his knuckle across your spaghetti strap, brushing across your collarbone where it stops on the curve of your neck. He cups the side of your neck, half of his palm resting against your jaw as his thumb sweeps back and forth. That warm and fuzzy feeling has caught fire, burning with a demanding intensity that leaves you reeling.

“My… My phone?” You ask absently, anything to change the direction of what might happen, his dark eyes snap to yours and you wish you had never spoken, anger and lust swirl together in his irises, his pupils dilated.

“Your phone,” He repeats, head tilting slightly as if he couldn’t quite remember what he came here for. “Were you ignoring me?”

You shake your head, then rethink his question. “Well… no not outright. I was working and in my head space, I remember my phone going off a few times but I honestly didn’t think about it.”

Aaron can only find honesty in the doe eyed look you’re giving him. “That’s two, sweetheart. You need to be more attentive.” Your eyebrows furrow, your soft gaze shifting to something hard as you glare up at the older man.

“Be more attentive? If you really needed me you could of just called. I was busy doing work, I still am.” You snap, gesturing towards your bed. He keeps his hand firm on your neck as he turns, glancing at your open laptop and he can faintly hear your music playing. “And what do you mean by two? Why do you keep counting?”

His thumb presses against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head further back and the pressure makes you squirm. He turns back with a small smile, something impish laying behind it. Aaron ducks down closer and you go still, his breath fanning over your lips and you can smell the tingling scent of mint.

“I did. Twice in fact. I’m counting the amount of times you break your rules, how ever many that is will help us decide what your punishment will be.” Aaron watches the blush slowly form across your cheeks before it seeps down your neck underneath his hand. He would be a lier if he said the effect he was having on you didn’t go both ways.

“We didn’t agree on any punishments, and how can I break a rule I didn’t know about?” You utter, quietly, your eyes betraying you and dropping away from his stare. Aaron smirks, nodding as he smooths his hand down to your collarbone, feeling the wild thump of your heart through your skin.

“That’s why I’m here. We’re going to discuss everything. Over lunch.” He steps back leaving you glued to the door staring at him baffled. “What are you in the mood for? We’ll order something in instead of risking the weather.” And as if the sky could hear his wise judgment a roll of thunder shakes the building. You squeeze your eyes shut until the noise dies off and the only thing that can be heard is the rain splattering against the window once more.

Aaron watches you, gaining a new piece of information, before walking towards the nightstand where the muted green hotel phone lays. He notices your half eaten breakfast sandwich and mutters something you can’t quiet hear.

“Um.. pizza?”

“Pizza it is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Not long after a steaming pepperoni and sausage is sitting on your dresser. Aarons posted in the chair again and you’re perched on the foot of the bed, picking at the melted cheese glancing your boss’s way every now and again.

“You look like you have something you want to say.” Aaron says, taking a large bite of his slice. Your shoulder rises and falls, watching him openly now. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so… human. This is the same man you’ve witnessed stand his ground against men ready to kill, talk down others who are ready to end it all; protect his team with a fierceness that goes unmatched by any other. It’s hard to think of him as anything else besides SSA Hotchner, but right here… is just Aaron.

“I don’t know… I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.” You admit, biting into your lower lip. “Everything is just… it’s such a sudden change and hasn’t been easy to get use to.”

Aaron smile is pitying at best and you want to convince yourself you hate it. “I know baby. You’ll get there, though. We have the entire month to smooth everything out and come to understand each other better.” The loose use of different pet names makes your insides bubble with craved affection, shame tinting your skin. “Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“You do, at any point you can call it off, but you know exactly where that leads.” His tone is all to knowing of your decision and you huff, scrubbing your hands across your face. He takes your silence as reluctant agreeance, pulling out his phone. “Last night I came up with some rules, punishments and rewards that I think will suit you and I the best.” He taps away at his phone for a few seconds before continuing. “The first, simple, call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us. Second, don’t doubt me when I say I am buying you something or taking you somewhere. Money is not an issue. Third-.”

“Answer my phone at your beck and call?” The sarcastic question sort of fell from your lips, causing Aaron’s eyes to narrow as he sets his paper plate down on the pizza box.

“Third.” He emphasizes, drawing out the word. “Check in with me. I need to know you are okay, if you’ve made it where you are going, if there is anything you need. It’s important that you do so.”

“That’s going to be hard to do when we will be on cases and working.” You point out, picking apart your pizza and taking small bites of the greasy dough.

“That’s why all of these rules are moldable to how we live. Work is for work, but some things will still apply. Like making sure you are eating, drinking plenty of water, getting rest when you can. After hours, when it’s just us, I expect you to follow your rules completely.” He watches the way you pluck off the pepperonis, setting them off to the side. “Punishments won’t be a daily thing like it is with others. We can pick a day where we sit and go over everything you’ve done wrong for the week, then decide your punishment from there. I have a few ideas such as choosing your clothing for the week, have your write lines, have you kneel for an extended period of time.”

Your nose scrunches, the next thing your peeling from your pizza is the little balls of sausage. “That all sounds a bit childish.”

“You aren’t wrong. But you’d be surprised how childish a person can act when given rules.” You roll your eyes making him chuckle. “Just like that.” You shoot him a halfhearted glare that he returns with a smile. “But if you’ve been a brat all day, disobeying me and forgetting your rules multiple times, then I may need to resort to something a bit harsher. Putting you over my knee, bondage, collar.” He watches your face flush, eyes going wide like a full moon. “Even then. It’s more so about the embarrassment than it is ever about the pain. Some people find these things enjoyable.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Aaron’s smile takes on a more devious twist, letting his head rest against his fist as he props his arm on the chair. “Maybe you’ll just have to find out.”

You stare at him in shock, your half deconstructed pizza laying forgotten in your lap as your insides burn. Your mind betrays you, questions popping up like wildfires; what would it feel like? Would he leave marks on your skin? Would you enjoy it like he says?

Stammering you drop your gaze from his, his smile never fading as he searches the soft planes of your face, forcing himself not to look any lower than your exposed collarbones and the gentle slope of your shoulders. You set your plate to the side, crossing then uncrossing your legs, the bed creaking as you try to sort through your thoughts. “Can um… can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Does David know? And if so is there anyone else?”

Aaron nods, then quickly raises his hands at the look of panic crossing your features. “David is the only one who knows, and that’s not because I told him out right.” Your panic quickly melts into confusion. “David is the one who suggested I bring up a contract with you.”

Your jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted. “Wait.. David’s… he’s into this?” Aaron nods again, letting you piece together what you will with that crumb of information. “Oh… so… that means the two do you were talking about me.”

Aaron laughs, a deep pleasant sound. “I promise, it wasn’t anything like you might think. We are just worried, and he thought it would be more appropriate coming from me than him.” Despite his humor you can feel panic rising steadily in your chest.

“Ho- Aaron what if someone finds out?”

“There isn’t any reason for anyone to know.”

The iron grip of your blooming panic wraps itself around your throat, your body humming with a desperate need to move and open your lungs. You stand from the bed and begin to pace the small area, passing Aaron with each turn on your heel.

“What if one of us slips up? The amount of trouble we could get into is-it’s astronomical. I’d be forced out of my job because I’m suddenly a woman who sleeps with their boss. You would be forced to resign but of course they’ll go easy on you-.”

“Honey-.”

“-Even if it doesn’t get to that point, the entire team will see me differently. They will question the authenticity of my role and my job. Oh God, and Morgan would be relentless with the teasing.”

“Y/n.”

“He still calls me señorita after I messed up my order at that Mexican restaurant a month ago! He’d never let us-.” Aaron leans forward, capturing your wrist as you walk by with a sharp tug. Pain laces up your already tense muscles and on instinct you turn, your hand lashing out and connecting with the side of Aaron’s face.

Everything goes silent, both of you stuck staring at the other in shock. “I-I’m… I didn’t mean-.” Aaron pulls you down and you clumsily fall into him, knee banging against the chair; your free hand landing on his shoulder. Aaron wraps a hand around the back of your neck, squeezing and before you can utter a word his lips crash into yours.

A muffled squeal escapes the back of your throat, squirming in his tight hold but it proves useless as his other hand drops your wrist, circling the back of your thigh and pulling you fully into his lap. Thighs caging his hips, chest pressed tight against his you squeeze your eyes shut. Aaron depends the kiss, moving his lips against yours allowing a few whimpering syllables to reach the air.

Your heart hammers painfully, your hands gripping at his shoulders but to your surprise you find your body relaxing. Every panicked thought is eclipsed by Aaron as his tongue slowly traces the seem of your lips, asking for entrance that you hesitantly give. But once you get your first taste of him you know you’re gone for, a soft moan rattles through your chest and Aaron devours it, licking into your mouth like a man starved.

His rough hand slips up your thigh, mindful to stay over your dress as it rides up, to cup your ass, squeezing the fat making your hips jump. The involuntary movement makes you grind down against him, pulling out another moan that is quickly followed by one of his own. He is all you can focus on, the fingers in your hair at the base of your skull, the growing bulge pressing into your heated core, the way the side of his nose bumps into yours. His thighs shift, sliding you further into his lap with a ragged groan.

Slowly, almost unwillingly you pull back, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. He gives you the silent moment you need, his fingers scratching your scalp slightly as you try to compose yourself atop him. He can’t stop the way his eyes roam to your lips though, the short taste of you forever imbedded in his brain.

When you finally let your eyes flutter open you meet his half lidded gaze, you lick your lips. “I-I need some time alone…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two hours later your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you glance at it from where you lay, curled up on your side in bed. Your fingers keep tracing your kiss swollen lips, unable to stop thinking about anything else. Grabbing your phone you roll onto your other side, opening your texts.

A new message from Aaron pops up, and your thumb hovers over the screen, your stomach churning with anticipation. Clicking the screen a long message pulls up.

‘Let me know what you want to change, my sweet girl.’

A smile tugs at your lips without your permission, cheeks reddening as you read over the list of rules, rewards, and punishments that follow. At the very end, boldened followed by a question mark is the word:

‘Spanking?’

You take a deep breath, sealing your fate with a few clicks of your keyboard.

Thank you all for the amount of love this has received 😭 I can’t wait to continue writing the rest of this story. Please comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch smut #criminal minds aaron hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds

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faeriecourts · 2 months

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naruto university au

Sasuke’s mindless in the comfortable silence that settles, brain turned off from what was probably brain rotting TV, his hand reaching out before he can even process what he’s doing, one of his fingers sliding over Naruto’s bracelet. It looks like parts of a volcano were made into little pearls, metal loops in between them, tiny etchings in the metal.

“You like it?” Naruto clanks the bracelet off his wrist, holding it up for Sasuke to take. “My mom made it.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah, she has a jewellery company.” He runs his finger over the intricate markings of the metal. “Modern witchcraft calls these ‘sigils’, but back in the day, our family called them ‘seals’. They’re said to enhance things like power, strength, and concentration.”

Sasuke huffs at that, but Naruto just laughs.

“Yeah, yeah. Does it work or is it placebo? But the fact stands that some of my family were burned in the witch trials for it.”

Call Sasuke dense all you want, but he definitely feels the way he’s fucked up in this moment, jaw slack and stumbling. “I-I’m sor-”

“Don’t be,” Naruto waves his hand. “It’s not like I knew any of them personally. My mom’s big on tradition though, she likes to pass it down.”

“I get it.” Sasuke’s chin rests on his knee. “My mom used to tell stories about the Uchihas when I was a kid. She says the Uchihas used to be warriors, that they breathed fire and that their eyes would turn red under intense emotion. Usually from the death of a loved one, but once… once it happened in the name of intense love.”

Naruto smiles at that, heartwarming and brilliant, and Sasuke can’t help but let his breath catch at soft blue eyes meeting his.

“That’s lovely. Are you close to your family?”

At that, Sasuke winces.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to pry-”

“It’s fine.” Sasuke has been a lot of things, a coward about a lot of things, but Naruto hasn’t shyed away once from him, so Sasuke won’t either. He has to match him, after all. Has to be just as good, if not better.

“It is fine.” Naruto reassures. “Sakura’s not close with her family either. We both believe you fill it in with the family you create.”

The family you create. Family has always been a bitter pill in his mouth. Sasuke has never had a moment to create something, always on the tail end of the shadow Itachi creates.

It’s in the safe blanket of the night that he lets the words slide out of his mouth. “My brother and I are close,” he says tentatively. “He- Our father put a business test in front of me when I was 5, turns out Itachi scored full marks on it at that same age, but I didn’t. Not until months of studying later.” He doesn’t know why he’s admitting this, doesn’t know why he does a lot of things these days. But this is not his family, not the Uchihas. No one raises a fist in response, no one reprimands him for talking about it, for saying the truth.

“That’s cruel.” Naruto tries to meet his gaze, but Sasuke just stares at the bracelet in his hands.

“My brother asked me if I hated him, once. I didn’t respond. After that, he told our father he’d do it all. He’d take over the business early, take on all the responsibilities, as long as our father didn’t test me again. And then he graduated from here when he was 12, met sales quotas at 15, was leading board meetings at 17. No one trusted him, at first. Because who trusts a teenager with a company?”

Naruto doesn’t respond for a while, but when he does, he says all that matters. “He’s your brother.”

“He’s my brother.” Sasuke agrees. “So I have to help him.”

Sasuke hands the bracelet back to Naruto in the silence that follows, a simple and complicated exchange all at once.

“Or,” Naruto wiggles his eyebrows, the side of his mouth tilted in a sly smile. “You could do what my uncle Kurama did, and just fuck off to the wilderness.”

Sasuke finally meets his eyes at that. “What?”

“Yeah, his job used to be like, literally firing people. At some point he just got sick of it, saved up enough to get a house in the middle of nowhere.”

“You do realize there’s a reason why people don’t do that, right? It takes hours to get groceries that way.”

“Nah, man, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t give a shit. He’s out there with a vegetable garden and everything. It’s a self-sustaining house, he’s got a group he lives with too. Chops firewood barefoot, apparently it’s what god intended or something.”

“Oh, so running to the wilderness thing is genetic, then?”

“It was one year. Sometimes you just gotta- I don’t know, man, like, sit in nature! Build a tent, build character!”

“Build character? If I slept in the woods, my mom would call aniki to ask if he cut off my credit cards.”

“Well, if he ever does, we can both fuck off to the woods together and I’ll make sure we survive. Cook oatmeal over a fire and everything.”

There’s the slightest upturn at the corners of Sasuke’s mouth. Fucking off to the woods suddenly doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

ao3 | part one two three

#naruto #narusasu #uzumaki naruto #sns #sasunaru #sasuke #uchiha sasuke #naruto x sasuke #naruto uzumaki

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pedgito · 2 years

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𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. iii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: you and eddie settle into a routine, but nothing good stays that way for long, and eddie hates the sight of you with anyone but him, it’s a shame he can’t admit it to anyone but himself

cw: 18+ (minors dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink, oral (f & m receiving), protected/unprotected sex (they can’t make up their mind), lots of teasing, jason is a grade a asshole, use of tie as bindings, naughty acts while others are around, one degrading word made by the reader toward themself, eddie is a jealous baby who doesn’t know how to handle himself, tense arguments, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 10k - part one, part two, part four

The prospect of sneaking around enlightened something in Eddie—you couldn’t say you hated it, but it was a lot to take in all at once. After the agreement was settled, you both dove in head first. Eddie really couldn’t get enough, but neither could you—it was an endless sequence of sneaky note passing that would, no doubt, end in a late night hookup—sometimes pressed up against the back of Eddie’s van if he was getting too impatient, other times laid out in the back, spread out over Eddie’s lap with your hands bound behind your back by his tie; which was always tied properly around his neck now, whether by himself or by you, sneaking into his class early in the morning to make sure it was perfect—it helped him feel like he had his life together, which wasn’t the case at all.

He’d also, by some stroke of luck, had kickstarted a string of shows on the outskirts of Indians, away from Hawkins population and their prying eyes, their notoriety being spread by word of mouth until he was spending almost every weekend playing his heart out with his band—it’s what he always wanted initially, but life had other plans.

He had to grow up, graduate, get a job and force himself through college; make something of himself—and maybe he had, but it was never what he wanted. He enjoys his life now, the stability and the ability to help others, even if momentarily. It’s why he chose the course of study he did—it wasn’t throwing darts at a board and picking the one it landed on, it was always intentional. But at this point, he felt stuck.

No one knew he’d enrolled himself into being a professor, surprising even himself that he’d enjoyed it as much as he did, even if the entire concept and uniform drove him nuts—it helped keep him afloat, and more recently, led him to you.

It’s like, after a lifetime of horrible outcomes, things were finally starting to turn around for him—even if it was all only temporary.

You also watch all of us shows, never missing a single one, not in the two months string that follows your initial agreement—school, Eddie, more school, and more Eddie—it was a cycle that you fell into easily.

He was highly insatiable on the nights after a show, more handsy and needy than usual, propping you up in the passenger side seat, legs hung over his shoulders as went down on you—it was almost too much.

“Eddie,” You pant, one hand forced behind you to keep yourself upright, the other cradling the back of his head as he licked into your cunt, the shlick sound of your wetness so loud against the dim rumble of the music coming from the bar, “—fuck, what if we get caught?”

“They’re busy,” His bandmates—his friends, buried in copious rounds of shots courtesy of some eager women who latched onto them the moment they stepped off the stage, Eddie could care less, though—he had more important things to worry about, “yeah—use my face, baby.”

Baby. It was new, too new—but it had your stomach twisting in knots, a gentle throb in your cunt as the words left his lips. It sounded so sweet falling from his lips, almost like he meant it.

You whine softly, gripping his hair gently to arch yourself further into his mouth, letting him suck at you greedily, the tip of his tongue sliding against your clit, pushing you further into the pleasure high you were drowning in, your underwear wadded into his hand as he gripped your thigh with the other, pulling you wider and wider, massaging at the soft flesh.

“Louder,” He comments, mouth molding around your clit to suck gently, a jolt of electricity running through you as you gasped loudly, pulling harshly at his hair, “that’s it, good girl.”

You nod idly, arm giving out on you as you fell back, grinding absently against his face, allowing him to do most of the work—Eddie knew just how to work you up until you were breathless and exhausted, willing to let him take over, and you were, so he did.

“Don’t have time to fuck you like I want,” He tells you, mumbling against your cunt in a way that has you clenching around nothing—the heat of his breath was enough to nearly send you over the edge, “so I guess this will have to work.”

You didn’t care—it couldn’t get better than this.

You moan outwardly as his pace quickens, bringing you over the edge quickly, cunt spawning against his mouth as you come, the faint, teasing laugh he lets out as you fall over the edge was enough to drive you mad.

“You’re too good at that.” You comment idly, chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He points out, allowing you to slip your underwear back on, hands intertwining in yours to sit you upright.

“Oh?” You push, knowing who he was referring to, but only wanting to mess with him further.

“Yeah—“ His hands slide against the outside of your thighs, pulling your core flush against him, the hard line of his cock that showed through his jeans pressed perfectly up against your cunt, “she’s loud, the fucking mouth on her, and she tastes like honey—that pussy is so sweet, can’t get enough of it.”

“I think you’re drunk,” You laugh softly, letting Eddie pull you in for a light kiss that quickly turns into more, your thighs widening to let him grind up against you, his tongue diving into your open mouth, feeling you out, “or tipsy, at least.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, “Just wanna fuck you,” He pleads, nudging at you neck with his nose, leaving short, biting kisses against your skin, “gonna let me?”

You make a small noise of amusement, pulling him away to look at you, his head heavy in your hands as he bares the weight of it against you, “Not tonight, you remember the deal.”

“I know,” He pouts cutely, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you, “not before semester finals, I remember.”

It was the one thing you both decided on—after the incident in his van, you knew it was better to hold off and keep things less complicated—not that this was much better, but it kept you focused, and Eddie would hang himself over you all day if you let him.

“Time to go?” You suggest softly, catching the faint smile that graced his face.

Part of you wishes he’d take you back to his place, but he never offered—you didn’t try to pry either, it didn’t seem like a good idea.

“Yeah, get in.” He suggests quietly, waiting until you’re seated inside the van fully to close the door, jogging quickly to the driver’s side.

Eddie knew exactly what was in store for him, it was the best part about his weekend drives with you, off the adrenaline of performing and wanting nothing more to sink himself inside of you—he settled for your mouth, which was just as good.

“You focused?” You ask, watching as his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, leaving enough room between his body and the front dash for you to fit—you know, if you wanted to.

You absolutely did.

He nods, rewarded with the gentle glide of your hand over the crotch of his jeans, fingers finding the zipper easily, and unbuttoning his pants just as quickly, a great relief from the pressure that was constraining his hard cock, sighing openly when you take him in your hand.

“Easy,” He warns, knowing that if he got worked up to fast he would have to pull over and you were on a tight schedule—because despite how badly you wanted to stay out all night, you both had responsibilities, “go slow.”

You nod dutifully, leaning over the length of the console to rest comfortably, his right hand pulling from the steering wheel to cover the expanse of ass, squeezing lightly until you were mouthing lightly at the base of his shaft—finally, exactly where he wanted you.

He hums softly, the quiet hum of the radio drowning out the rough sounds of rubber against pavement, but not enough to overpower the sounds that you made as you worked him over, your tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his dick, mouth closing gently over the tip to suck, earning a small grunt of approval, his fist clenching tightly against your ass, the cold sting of his rings biting at your skin.

“Uh—oh, fuck—more, baby. You can fit more, can’t you?” He asks encouragingly. He knows you can, looking down at you briefly with dark eyes, glazed over with pleasure and a familiar sense of dominance. He didn’t let it out often, or by much, but you knew it was there. It was thrilling, but still secretly terrifying—you wanted to know all about him.

You nod obediently, your plush lips sliding against his ruddy tip, tongue poking out to swipe at the slit, tasting the small bead of precome, his heady scent from the earlier performance only urging you on, wanting to make a mess of him.

His hand grasps the back of your head gently, settling into your soft strands, pushing and guiding until he’s nearly settled at the back of your throat, you eyes closing in an attempt to focus, breathing deeply through your nose—it’s the soft nudge of his cock that has you gagging slightly, pulling back to take a breath, before diving back in, taking him into your mouth fully, a small whine tearing from his throat as your hand moves to his balls, cupping them lightly. He’s never been one to care much for the attention, but you treated him like royalty, making sure he was just as satiated as you were after your weekly hookups—it was only fair.

“God, I wanna fuck that mouth so bad,” He sighs, his hand coming around to pull at the edge of your mouth gently where your cock is stuffed inside, “hold your hair back and make you take it, that sound good?”

You nod weakly, willing to agree with just about anything he says. But, the idea isn’t lost on you—you wouldn’t mind at all.

“Shit, sweetheart—“ He says, hand flying up to grip the steering wheel as you swallow involuntarily, you pull back for a short breath, tongue trailing up the length of his dick until he’s cursing again, hips bucking up into your mouth.

You hear the engine rev slightly, car jolting forward unexpectedly, Eddie’s quick to grab you, though—his hand soothing at the back of your neck in reassurance, “I said slow, remember?”

“Sorry,” You mumble against his skin, the words only half true, “couldn’t help myself.”

The van pulls to a stop at some point, interior illuminated by red light, Eddie shifts the car in park unexpectedly, giving him full range and motion to grab at you, fingers twisting in your hair wildly, groaning out at the overwhelming sensation of your mouth as you swallowed him down steadily, thoughts too cloudy to focus on the road—he’s thankful that the streets are so empty at this time of night, dick twitching as you moaned, letting him guide your head down his shaft willingly.

“Fuck—gonna come, sweetheart.” He warns tensely, jaw clenched. He’s pulling gently at your hair, hoping you’ll get the message, but you ignore it, bringing him right to the edge and letting him spill into your mouth, the guttural groan he lets out shooting straight to your core, “shit—you didn’t have to do all that.”

You pull back with a satisfied grin, swallowing what remained of him in your mouth, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth innocently, his eyes melting at the sight. You were a goddamn prize, the rarest of the bunch.

His thumb pulls gently at your lip, rubbing the pad of his finger against the skin, your own eyes lighting up, “You can never hold out, can you?”

“It’s just too good,” He admits shamelessly, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh softly, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his lips—it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, tasting himself in your mouth, but the thought sends a tinge straight to his dick.

It takes another half hour to finally arrive at campus; Max is fuming when she has to open the door for you, key forgotten on the floorboard of Eddie’s van, unbeknownst to you.

☆.｡.:*

So, naturally, you wake up in a panic—thinking it’s probably lost on the dingy floor of some crappy bar out of town, never to be seen again.

“You two are ridiculous,” Max complains, rubbing at her tired eyes as she forces herself out of bed, “next time you show up after midnight with no key I’m ignoring you.”

“Max,” You plead, hoping she wasn’t as upset as she sounded, “I’m sorry.”

“No—next time: no key, no entry, you sleep on the floor outside.”

“You wouldn’t,” You counter, perched up in your bed as your eyes follow her around the room, her figure disappearing behind the bathroom door, “Max?!”

“I absolutely would,” She shouts back, “try me!”

And you know she’s capable, so it’s crucial that you find the key—rather than accepting your fate and begging her to make another copy. You just hoped that, by some miracle, Eddie might have it.

When you arrive at class, your usual seat is taken—it’s been nearly four months and not a single time has this happened, until now. You approach the individual hastily; despite the lack of assigned seating, it still felt like it was rightfully yours and you weren’t going down without a fight.

Eddie hasn’t even arrived yet, the classroom filled with the hushed conversations of other students. You clear your throat, tapping the boy on the shoulder, his thick letterman feeling sticky against your finger.

“Excuse me,” You chide, voice sounding a little harsh, “that’s my seat.”

He rounds on you, pale blue eyes staring back intensely, a small strand of his blonde hair falling over his forehead. He’s got the type of smile that would scare away who was shy, not willing to confront their problems, but that wasn’t you.

“I don’t see your name on it.” He smirks, leaning back in the seat, legs spread wide for good measure.

“Good one,” You say, forcing a smile, “move.”

“No.” He replies confidently, a smile turning into a tooth-filled grin, clearly enjoying how much it was bothering you.

“You’re new to class, right?” You ask, ignoring his scrutinizing gaze. “This is your first day?”

He nodded silently, eyes taking a noticeable glance along your body—he wasn’t unattractive or creepy, he was just infuriating and not at all the good kind.

“Then you don’t know that I sit there everyday,” You explain, voice calm despite that annoyance that flooded through you, “so I’d really appreciate it if you’d move.”

He laughs, head tilting up to make another snide remark, “Look, I—“

Eddie calls out to him, setting his bag on his desk, “Jason, right?” He asks curiously, staring down at the paper on his desk, “Up here.” He orders, fingers motion for him to move toward the front of the classroom.

You smile snidely, watching him remove himself from your desk, taking your rightful seat back.

Eddie only talks to him for a few minutes, handing him a small stack of papers, before Jason is returning to your row, claiming the seat beside you, much to your dismay.

“Actually,” He takes a moment, examining the desk, his eyes trailing over to your exposed legs before landing on your face, “I think I like this one better.”

“Sure, whatever.” You say nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze and you stared at the board, chin resting in your palm—at least there was your professor to look at, keeping your mind off of the constant gaze of your classmate, who despite being obnoxiously rude and condescending, still participated in the class.

He answered questions correctly, engaged in discussion, it was almost like he actually cared for the subject and wasn’t just forced here—still, you wanted to shove him flat on his perfect face, tired of the way he stared right through you; he was up to something, but you weren’t sure what. When class nears its end, he turns to you.

“Hey,” He calls out, your name lingering on his tongue weirdly—you hadn’t even told him, “hold on.”

His face contorts up in a look of confusion, almost like he’s battling with himself, confused on what he wants to say.

“Look—I wasn’t trying to be an asshole,” He admits, which falls on deaf ears, “I’m sorry.”

“Apology not accepted.” You snark back, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’ve seen you, around,” He states, “that’s how I know your name.”

Still weird, but you take the bait. Your eyebrow quirks up in question, urging him to continue.

“Your friend Max—I’m friends with Lucas, the guy she’s been hanging out with,” It makes more sense, but not much, “I just—I thought you were cute, so I was teasing, I didn’t think you’d take it so harshly.”

“You call that teasing?” You ask, amused at his horrible attempt to correct his behavior. “Gross.”

“I’m not used to, you know,” He does a back and forth motion between the two of you with his hand, “—girls usually just smile and laugh, they don’t really argue back.”

“What point are you trying to prove?” You ask desperately, tired of this pointless circle of conversation, “That you’re terrible at flirting? Is that why you took this class? For desperation, hoping that I would take one look at you and fall in love?”

“I mean—not fall in love, necessarily,” He says dismissively, “I am interested in the class, I just…thought it would be cool to get to know you.”

You were going to kill Max the moment you laid eyes on her.

You force a tight smile. “I don’t make friends easily, and I’m not nice—so it’s better if you just stay away from me.”

He doesn’t even get a word in before you’re scampering away, avoiding Eddie’s unknowingly heated gaze, averting right to Jason the moment you’re gone.

Unfortunately for you, Jason liked the challenge.

☆.｡.:*

“You did what?” You question tensely, eyes narrowing at your red headed friend.

“He asked if you were single,” Max explains, “I said yeah.”

“Why?”

Max throws her hands out in defeat, “I mean, you are? Aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then?” Max snarks back suddenly. “What’s the big deal?”

“Are we ignoring my complicated situation with Eddie?”

“You two are just screwing around,” Max points out, “who cares?”

You rub your hands over your face in frustration, allowing yourself a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. It was no better if you took any of this out on Max, who was just trying to help you out—her intentions were never meant with harm, but it had created a difficult and dangerous domino effect.

“He’s not that bad,” Max points out, “Lucas says he’s really cool.”

“He’s the captain of the basketball team—of course Lucas thinks he’s cool.” You point out obviously. “I’m screwed, Max—screwed.”

“Just go on a date with him,” She suggests, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head at the idea, “hey, don’t look at me like that—you might change your mind. Besides, you don’t owe Eddie anything. Didn’t he say that he wanted to keep things casual?”

You nod regretfully.

“So?” Max shrugs, “Fucking live a little, go on a date or two, you don’t have to sneak around at night with him, at least.”

“You are the one who pushed me toward getting closer to Eddie, don’t you remember?”

“I just want you to be happy, babe.” Max replies honestly. “Keep your options open, that’s all I’m saying.”

And you hated yourself for even considering it, but you definitely were.

☆.｡.:*

Jason propositions you the next morning.

“A movie,” He suggest, “just one, and if you hate it, I’ll never bother you again.”

It didn’t seem convincing, but you tilted your head, considering your options. You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever been treated to a proper date; doted on or showed off, engaging in genuine conversation or just being able to hold someone’s hand in public. Eddie always made you feel butterflies, but it wasn't because of gentle touches or sweet words of acknowledgment—it was the rough texture of his fingers as he pressed them inside of you, your cunt clenching around them like they were meant for you.

Eddie didn’t look at you out of love, it was all lust.

You’re startled out of your own thoughts by someone bumping the back of your chair—it was Eddie, unfortunately, forcing himself behind you to reach another student who was concerned about their assignment. His eyes didn’t linger on you, immediately tracking to Jason, who’s smile was beaming, inherently charming in a way that made you want to vomit.

“So,” Jason urges, voice covered in a saccharine sweet tone that made you sick, but you couldn’t help wanting to try it out—even if it went horribly, you could still rub it in Max’s face, “one date?”

Eddie’s head pivots immediately, eyes burning holes into the back of Jason’s head. You catch his scrutinizing line of sight, shooting him a confused look. He’s never reacted so openly in front of students, it’s almost startling.

Eddie catches himself though, reeling it back in like it never happened—but you knew it was going to emit something, you just weren’t sure what.

“I don’t know,” You say unsurely, watching Eddie’s shoulders shift uncomfortably, “let me think on it?”

“Can you let me know by tomorrow?” Jason asks, a small glint of hope in his eyes.

“Uh—I’ll try.” You tell him, turning in your chair to suffer through the rest of the period.

Eddie doesn’t glance at you once—but he doesn’t let you leave as easily, hand clasping around you arm after everyone has already departed.

Truthfully, you just wanted to leave—you weren’t even in the mood to be around him right now, not with his sudden, silent outburst at Jason’s question. You didn’t owe Eddie anything.

“Are you going to?” He asks, removing his hand after a moment, shuffling through a pile of papers on his desk to seem busy—watchful for prodding eyes.

“Going to what?” You ask dumbly, it wasn’t that hard to guess.

You feel the tension radiating off of him, a small tinge of jealousy in the way he laughs as a response, eyes flicking up to catch sight of your own.

“You know what,” Eddie decided, “you should.”

“Go on a date with Jason?” You ask.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to—you weren’t even sure if you did, either. It wasn’t a concern, but to Eddie, it clearly bothered him.

“Yeah, go,” He tells you, almost like he’s attempting to order you, which doesn’t sit well, “enjoy it.”

“Why are you acting like that?” You ask suddenly, slamming your hand against the stack of papers, the sound of it driving you insane, “Do you have a problem with it?”

You weren’t a thing. He shouldn’t have one.

“No,” He lies, “—but go, seriously.”

“You know what? No.” You decide, frustration flooding your body for the millionth time that day. “You don’t get to order me around, not like this.”

Eddie takes a step closer, face nearly inches from your own—it was dangerous, but he needed to get the message across.

“I’m telling you,” He orders, “go on the date.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask snidely, head cocking to the side.

“You will,” He says confidently, “you want to.”

It was pure curiosity really, a small bit of self indulgence—you didn’t even like Jason that much, but it still seemed harmless. And if that was what Eddie wanted, you’d give it to him.

“I’ll pick you up after,” He tells you, a reminder of your weekly weekend activities, “and you can tell me all about it.”

He’s got a smirk on his face, riddled with something you can’t quite put your finger on—it’s intriguing, sure; but his gaze is hot, like he wants to destroy you.

And honestly, you’d let him.

You rushed after Jason only a few minutes after leaving Eddie, still reeling from how intensely he’d approached you.

“I’ll go,” You pant out, grabbing at his crisp letterman jacket, “just once, that’s it.”

“Cool,” Jason nods, “Okay.”

“And I have to be back by nine,” Jason looks at you quizzically, “Max will lock me out of our dorm otherwise.”

And it dawns on you then, you’ve been so caught up between Jason and Eddie that you didn’t even think to ask Eddie about the key; but the day prior or today. It felt like you were losing your mind.

You didn’t need to be home by nine, either—Jason didn’t need to know that, but, like Eddie said—he still planned on seeing you afterwards, so it could wait until then. The chances were slim to none, anyways, so you tried not to focus on it too much.

“I can do that,” Jason agrees, his entire demeanor changing before you. He looked appreciative, happy—you didn’t know what to make of it, “I’ll pick you up at six?”

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile.

It was worth a shot—what’s the worst that could happen?

☆.｡.:*

The date couldn’t have been worse if you tried—Jason, despite his valiant effort, didn’t have much to talk about, other than his feeble attempts at trying to make a move on you. You should have expected it, really—all those boys on the basketball team were always the same, with the exception of Lucas. There was one goal in mind—sex. Jason was no different.

“If you wanted to have sex, you couldn’t just asked.” You snark rudely, forcing yourself away from where he’d pulled you against him in the front seat of his car, “It makes you look less desperate for it.”

“Would it have worked?” Jason asks curiously, clearly annoyed by his failed advances.

“No—not a fucking chance.”

“You’re all the same,” Jason remarks, “just get the fuck out of my car.”

You didn’t even have a ride home, but you had no other options. You leave him without a word, slamming the door for good measure, desperately trying to think up how you were going to find a way back to your dorm—no one was going to drive you home at this time of night, it was pointless even thinking that someone would be willing to do so.

But it dawns on you soon after, digging in the pocket of your wallet that was stuffed in your back pocket—you’d kept his number tucked away, just in case you ever needed it. You didn’t think you ever would, truthfully, but there was no better time like the present.

And even if he was upset with you, you knew he’d drop everything to help you out—it was just the type of person Eddie was.

There’s a pay phone a half a mile down the road, barely in working order as you stuff the coins in the slot, dialing his number desperately—praying, hoping that Eddie picks up.

“Who is this?” He answers initially, his normal and calm timbre of voice gone. He sounds upset, almost—bothered or annoyed, you couldn’t place which one.

“It’s me,” You answer quietly, “Can you pick me up? I’m kind of stranded.”

Left behind, pushed to the side, it was all the same.

“Where are you?” He asks, voice still caring that intensity behind it. You tell him the address, rambling off some other noticeable landmarks in hopes that he’ll piece it together.

“I’ll be there in ten, don’t move.”

You weren’t even thinking about it, perching yourself against the curb of the street, knees pulled to your chest as you sat, waiting—Jason a distant, fleeing memory; that was too good to be true and you should’ve seen it from a mile away.

Your naivety always got the better of you—constantly giving people the benefit of the doubt.

Eddie rolls up slowly—he doesn’t get out or roll his window down, thankful for the dark tint of his car, for once. You knew it wasn’t safe, even in this area, littered with several students—even if they didn’t take his class directly, they would easily be able to spot him.

“Thank you.” You mumble softly, a simple acknowledgment of appreciation. Eddie doesn’t respond, his fingers white knuckling the steering wheel.

He was upset, that was fine—though, could it really be justified?

He drives for what feels like eternity, missing his exit, passing it up without a thought. “Where—where are you going, Eddie?” You ask softly, glancing over at him wearily. You didn’t feel unsafe with him, that wasn’t possible, but he’s never gone this way.

“My place,” He answers softly, glancing over at your fidgeting hands, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt nervously, “you can stay there tonight.”

“Oh—okay.” You try not to let him see how your eyes light up the prospect, seeing the inside of his place or just the very idea of being allowed that privilege—seeing a small glimpse into his life.

“Besides, your key is there,” He adds, making the choice not to touch you, knowing that it would likely calm you and he wanted to keep you on edge, squirming, making you feel as anxious as he did about you date with Jason—even if it was for vastly different reasons, “I forgot to give it back.”

You nod gently, “I thought I left it at the bar last weekend.”

“It fell on the floorboard,” He admits, “—you okay?”

It’s a sudden inclination that he was still worried, even if he wasn’t trying to show it. And you were okay, in a sense, but you still felt off—Jason had managed to ruin a good night, something you had a lot of hope for, and now you were forced to sit in the car with Eddie, who seemed just as upset as you.

“I’m fine.” You settle on, wanting to melt into the seat and disappear, letting the silence overcome the both of you, riding the rest of the way without speaking a word.

Eddie doesn’t live far from campus, surprisingly—nestled into a small apartment complex on the edge of the busy, bustling college area. It kept him close, but not close enough that he’d run into students—plus, he’s never had a place to himself before, it was a weird experience for him.

You follow silently, up a couple flights of stairs, watching as he turned the key in the lock and slipped the door open, motioning you inside before him, the soft glide of his hand against your back as you brushed past—it burned like fire, but you tried to ignore it.

Eddie couldn’t not touch you, it was an inherent part of his nature now, but he can’t help the flood of jealousy that runs through his body at the thought of you being out with Jason tonight—entertaining the idea in general. You didn’t owe him anything, he knew that, but it drove him insane—you being with anyone else but him, regardless of how; it made no sense to you, but all the sense to him.

He needed to take his frustrations out the best way he knew how.

Eddie’s apartment is spacey but packed to the brim with tons of items he’s collected over the years and no doubt, probably brought with him from home—it fit with him perfectly; all over the place, but still managed to make perfect sense. You wanted to look around, familiarize yourself with the place in case you never saw it again, but Eddie doesn’t really give you a chance, his fingers coming to wrap around your wrist and pull you to him.

His hands roam the slope of your ass, gripping at your thighs until you wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to lift you to the top of his countertop, in the kitchen that’s squeezed just beside the entrance of his apartment. You squeal slightly, the squeeze of his hands on your soft flesh as he pulls you to him is enough to make you lean forward to kiss him in earnest, but you don’t make it.

Eddie leans away slightly, just out of reach. “What are you doing?” His time is accusatory, harsh. You frown slightly, confused at his words.

“Kissing you?” You say, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“You’re supposed to tell me about your date.” Eddie tells you, his hands traveling up to grip your face gently, thumbs rubbing tenderly at the sides of your jaw, his touch gentle despite his mood.

“It was—boring, I guess.” You shrug, “That’s why I called you. I wanted to leave.”

“So—why didn’t you ask him to drive you back?” He asks curiously, eyes narrowing on you, a small tilt of your head as he adjusts his hands back.

“He—“ You hesitate, wondering how Eddie might react, “He kicked me out of his car.”

“That's all?”

You shake your head gently, lips pulling together in a tight line, contemplating your next words. “Uh—he wanted to have sex with me.”

“And what did you say?” Eddie asks, fingers tentative and careful against your skin—your legs squirm at his sides.

“I—I said no.” You tell him honestly, “Why would I want to?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know—you went on the date with him, didn’t you?”

You pull back suddenly, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, thinking back to his earlier words. “You told me to—you didn’t really give me much of a choice, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs softly, a soft chuf through his nose. “Wasn’t what you hoped for it to be, was it?”

“Is that why you pushed me to go?” You asked, voice ticking up an octave, Eddie leans back with a faint smirk, enjoying himself too much. “You wanted me to feel like this?”

“You’re the one that entertained the idea, you know.” Eddie points out, pushing back into your space as you pull away. “I just had to make sure you knew it was a terrible one.”

“You’re an asshole.” Your words laced with venom, Eddie nearly laughs in your face.

“Yet—,” Eddie shrugs, tilting his head slightly to stare intensely, “you still called me.”

Your face scrunches up in frustration. “Fuck you.”

Eddie squeezes your face between his hands suddenly, cheeks squished until your lips are pushed out, the skin underneath his grip turning red. “Yeah, you should.”

Your cunt pulses at thought, despite your anger—it seemed like a horrible, running theme with Eddie. He was determined to fuck the hate right out of you, but you weren’t letting go that easy—if he wanted intense, you’d return it back tenfold.

“I thought we had an agreement,” You say tensely, voice muffled by the grip he had on your face, “are you giving in that easy?”

“We never agreed on sleeping with other people,” Eddie points out, but it seemed pointless; this wasn’t a relationship, “I guess you just couldn’t handle yourself, could you?”

“Are you trying to call me a slut?” You ask accusatory, shoving his hand away from your face. “Because one guy was flirting with me in front of you?”

Eddie stalks back slightly, hand curling at his side in a slow, rising flood of temptation and hate, wanting to put you both out of your misery—he just doesn’t expect to be called out.

“I thought you said this was casual, Eddie.” You remark, adding emphasis on his name as you step forward, shoving a single finger into his chest—he isn’t fazed, unfortunately. “I thought—well, I could fuck whoever I want.”

Your head tilts down, eyes narrowing in his direction.

“Does that bother you?”

Yes, he wants to say. But instead, he shakes his head.

“Prove it,” You challenge, slipping the jacket off your shoulders, throwing it directly at his chest, “fuck me like it doesn’t bother you at all.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could—he shoved that thought deep down.

Eddie wastes no time in picking you up, throwing you lazily over his shoulder, squirming against the tight grip he had on you, yelling from him to put you down—but he’s dropping you against the bed in his large studio apartment and it feels too intimate.

Maybe you should forget all of this happened—leave, close the door behind you and never look back, but Eddie’s pulling at your shoes, the edge of your jeans, panties disappearing with it until you're naked from the waist down, and his mouth is on you instantly.

You cry out at the contact, overwhelmed by the suddenness as he falls to the bed with you, spreading your legs as wide as they could go. “This what you want?” Eddie asks accusingly, voice a low rumble against your cunt. You shake your head profusely, mouth hung open on a silent gasp, hand fisting into the hair at the back of his head, using the leverage to grind against his mouth, his nose bumping against your clit in surprise.

“Want you,” You moan out, his mouth disconnecting from your cunt to bite at the inside of your thigh, sucking a deep, purple mark into the skin—he does it again, and again, until the inside of your thighs are nothing but a sea of reminders that he had you right where he wanted you, “—need you.”

Need you, he feels the internal tug at the words—how desperate you sound, how willing you were to let him destroy you, corrupt you; he could have his way with you and you’d let him.

He pulls away, eyes dark and intimidating—you almost can’t stand looking at him like this, his bangs flowing down over his forehead, slightly obscuring his view, mouth parted slightly but his lips flushed a beautiful pink from how intensely he was attempting to torture you, bring you to orgasm before he even had the chance to slip inside you—that wasn’t going to happen though, not if you had a say in it.

“What happened to your rule?” He teases, arms climbing up your body until he’s settled over you, the front of his jeans pressing against your bare cunt, grinding slowly, providing just enough friction to drive you mad.

“Fuck the rule, Eddie.” You retort, voice steady as you stare at him, tired of everything he’d put you through today, the past few weeks—and god forbid, making you start to like him, beyond the point of a meaningless hook up. “You wanted me to go on that date so I’d be miserable—you wanted me to come back here and grovel, tell you how much I hated it. You don’t get that—either fuck me or take me home, you choose.”

“Turn over.” He demands, leaning down to press his lips against the shell of your ear—he wasn’t sure if he could stand to look at you, right now. It wasn’t because he was mad or upset, but the idea of being able to look at you, willingly let him connect with you in such an intimate way, it was almost too much to handle.

He shouldn’t have brought you back to his apartment—he shouldn’t have, and even so, he didn’t want to accidentally cross another line—despite how badly he wanted to watch you fall apart underneath him; that was the part of him that wanted, so deeply, to keep from falling for you.

You flip onto your stomach, feeling his hands squeeze your legs, ass, settling on the dip in your lower back as he pulls you up, using one hand to wrestle with his belt, yanking at the front of his jeans until he could free himself, a small sigh of of relief as he slips his boxers down enough that he can palm his aching cock—you were getting impatient, rightfully so.

“Eddie,” You press, coming up on your hands to lock back at him—he presses you back down in an instant, face shoved against the pillow as his fingers slip inside of you, two fingers curling against your walls, an intense sensation that has you clenching around his fingers, desperate for him to be inside you, “—oh, fuck.”

“Be quiet,” He chides, “don’t say anything unless I speak to you, got it?”

It was all too familiar. You weren’t as good at following the rules though, unfortunately—if the situation you were in wasn’t already a testament to that.

Eddie doesn’t appreciate the silence, his hand fisting into the back of your hair to angle your head upwards—you grunt at the harshness of it, but it was far from uncomfortable, “I asked a question. Answer it.”

“Yes—yes, okay.” You stutter out, the mix of his fingers and his intense demeanor giving you whiplash, it was impossible to focus on one thing. He pulls again—he just wants to hear, even if it’s the last time. “Fuck—yes, yes sir.”

At this point, it seems like he’s doing it to demean you, humiliate you—but you weren’t even sure you cared anymore.

Eddie laughs softly, releasing your hair gently until your head hits the pillow, pulling his fingers away from you slowly, reaching over you toward his bedside, pulling at a long strip of condoms shoved into the drawer there—it made you wonder; how much sex was he really having?

Was it just you? Maybe it shouldn’t matter, Eddie could sleep with whoever he wanted—the thought crosses your mind, invades it, and you’re not sure why.

He tears the foil with his teeth, discarding the trash haphazardly on the bed, slipping the condom down his cock with ease, before pressing himself up against you suddenly, allowing himself to press against your aching center.

You want to beg, plead with him—but he can sense it, finally putting you out of your suffering and pushing inside of you, right to the base, your body remembering him perfectly, cunt molding to him like he was meant for you.

You muffle your moan into the fabric, the slight change of angle as he pulls your hips up, slamming into you in one quick, harsh movement—it was exactly what you needed in that moment. Quick, mindless, intense—you wanted to lose yourself in it.

Eddie’s groaning loudly above you, no effort to stifle how badly this was affecting him too, his hand traveling up to pressing against the back of your head again. He didn’t try to fist his hand into your hair again, the edge of anger he had in that moment had dissipated, replaced with need for release.

“And you wanted me to wait,” He laughs bitterly, “—that’s torture, sweetheart.”

You whine softly, his right hand gripping your hip roughly, aiding your hips in the desperate slap of skin and against skin, feeling useless against the hold he had on you.

“No one deserves this pussy like me.” He says confidently, “No one can take care of you like I do, right?”

You shake your head furiously, the small telling grip as he winds his hand into your hair is a warning. Answer, think.

“No, no—no one can.” You say brokenly, gasping at a sharp thrust of his hips.

“And definitely not some trust fund college kid,” Eddie spits back, “—you—you want to go out and find someone else to fuck, go ahead and try, but I guarantee you won’t find anything better.”

“Don’t want to.” You mumble quietly, low enough that you don’t even think he can hear it, but he does—it almost halts him completely, but he shoves the thought away.

He’s relentless in his thrust, attempting to fuck his frustration out through you—it’s almost too much, your hands griping at the sheets in desperation, begging for any type of relief, even a break, just a moment to collect yourself.

“Please, Eddie,” Your voice is soft, “slow—slow down, please.”

Eddie almost forgets what he’s doing, so lost in his own release of emotion that he doesn’t realize that you’re almost in tears, a hand flying back to grasp for his wrist, begging him to loosen his hold, slow down, or at least take a moment—and he feels horrible.

He hates how nothing you two ever do is out of pure enjoyment, always riding off of some estranged since of anxiousness or anger toward each other—and Eddie just wants to look at you, the softness in your face as you fall apart, even if he couldn’t admit to himself how badly it affected him.

He slows, almost to a dead stop, but that seems even worse.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks timidly, whatever emotion he was feeling earlier now gone, replaced with the Eddie you knew best, “I’m sorry—I just,”

“No, no—can I—maybe turn over?” You ask quietly, turning back to look at him. His eyes are soft, still dark, but less rough around the edges.

He nods, pulling away enough to help you roll over to your back—it’s almost a relief to see his face, void of everything but worry, his eyebrows furrowed into a tight line. “Better?” He asks, his hand pulling at your thigh until it’s settled high on his hip. You nod fervently, his head tilting down to aid himself as he guides back into you, the angle even more satisfying than before.

“Oh,” You sigh, feeling a sudden tinge of fear as you speak, remembering his earlier words, “shit—sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Eddie huffs a small laugh through his nose, his eyes scanning over your face, “I didn’t mean any of that,” He shakes his head, “I was just—upset, I guess.”

Your hand reaches up to touch his face, finger tracing over the curve of his lips, he frowns slightly, causing you to frown back. He can’t take the intensity of your stare, leaning down to tuck his face into your neck, forcing himself deeper inside of you, hitting a spot that can only be defined as euphoric, gut wrenching—you whined out into the quiet room, feeling him thrust into you once more, your arm coming to curve around the back of his neck, blunt nails scratching at his shoulders.

“I just—I just wanted to be shown off, you know,” You say with an immense amount of vulnerability, barely able to get the words out, “I know that isn’t what this is—I don’t expect that,” Eddie’s lips latch onto your neck, more careful about leaving marks, just admiring your skin and the sweet mewling noises you made in return, “it doesn’t matter, anyways.”

Eddie hates how you disregard it all, knowing it’s mostly his fault—filling you with unreal expectations, forcing you into a position, a situation; one that would ultimately end in flames. It was his own selfish indulgence that got you into this mess and he was fully responsible—but he’s stuck now, past the point of not caring, he’s fallen for you.

And maybe he had from the start, but none of that mattered.

“I didn’t know—that you wanted that,” He confesses, his voice even more wrecked than your own, building in the precipice of his own orgasm, “I should have—should’ve noticed.”

“It’s not your fault,” You assure him, forcing him to pull away to look at you, “this is all for fun, anyways. I don’t expect anything from you.”

It’s a painful reminder.

Eddie nods gently, moving his hand between you both to press against your clit, rubbing slow, heavy circles against the nub, “Oh, fuck—“ You sigh, mouth hung open in desperation. Eddie smiles, watching you fall apart by his own hand, the steady pace against your pulsing clit was overwhelming, but his gaze was even worse; nodding, almost egging you on as you keened against him, rutting yourself into his hand. “Please,” You beg for no apparent reason, “shit, I’m gonna come—Eddie.”

“You got it,” He encourages, slowing his own pace to focus on you fully, the slow grind of his hips and his fingers against your clit as you fall over the edge, “—that’s it, fuck—“ Eddie stalls at the feeling of you clench around him, orgasm hitting you unexpectedly.

His hand soothes you through, the soft praises of his voice as he watches you fall apart, mouth hung open, begging to be kissed. He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, messy kiss that doesn’t feel casual; it reeks of love and wanting, but you can't find it in yourself to care right now.

“Good girl,” He coos softly, fingers brushing your hair away from my face, “So fucking pretty when you come, you know that?”

You laugh at the absurdity, a drunken giggle as your eyes fall shut, barely enough energy to keep them open. Eddie leans forward to kiss you once more, quick and chaste, trailing kisses down your neck as he speeds up again, hips snapping into your roughly, his desperate hands pulling and gripping your thighs as he rides through his own orgasm, groaning against the warm skin of your chest, lips dragging against the dip between your breasts, the shirt Eddie couldn’t be bothered to remove was shoved up under your neck.

“That was—“ You say after a moment, a faint smile spreading across your face, “intense.”

Eddie snorts softly, pulling himself out of you to discard the used condom, tossing it in the trash can near his bed.

“I don’t want you fucking other people,” Eddie says suddenly, your eyes lifting up to meet his own, hands slowly working your shirt back down your chest.

“I thought you wanted this to be casual?” You asked, remembering his words from the beginning of all of it.

“I do,” He lies, it’s entirely too unconvincing and you can hear it in his voice—you don’t try to question him on it, “I just—I don’t like the idea of you messing around with anyone else, not while I’m with you.”

“And if I meet someone?” You ask curiously, “What then?”

“Then we end this,” He settles on, even though the words pain him to say, “—you don’t owe me anything, okay?”

You nod gently, “Do you ever think—I don’t know, what would’ve happened if I wasn’t your student?”

Eddie pulls at the hem of his jeans until they’re settled at his waist, unbuttoned as he climbs on the bed beside you, mattress dipping as he sat, “I would’ve asked you out—probably.”

You smile at the thought, still aware of your lack of clothing, though—Eddie tosses you a blanket to cover yourself, his hands resting on either side of your curled legs, knees pulled to your chest.

“It’s unfortunate,” Eddie says softly, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face, “maybe if we’d met under different circumstances this would be easier.”

“We’re still here somehow, aren’t we?” You challenge, watching his face scrunch up in amusement.

“I’m sorry if that was too much,” Eddie apologized, hurt glazing over his eyes, “—part of me enjoys it—I just couldn't get the thought of you and him out of my head.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, face pulled up into a cheeky smile, “Eddie—I think that’s jealousy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, pulling away from you.

“It’s fine!” You console him, “I don’t mind—but you could’ve just told me you didn’t want me messing around with other people while we were doing this—it would’ve saved me a lot of trouble and humiliation.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He says softly, leaning forward to press a quick peck to your forehead, “I should have just told you.”

He should have told you he was in love with you, but it never came. You hated yourself for feeling that way too, knowing that nothing would ever come of it—it was impossible.

You yawn, stifling the noise into the blanket as you raised it to your mouth—Eddie laughs, forcing you gently against his mattress. “You can sleep here,” He offers, “I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

You smile tiredly, eyes gleaming with adoration for the man sitting in front of you. “Good—Max isn’t too happy with me and I don’t feel like making it worse.”

Eddie tilts his head slightly, staring down at you in question.

“She’s annoyed—all of our sneaking around. I mean, she knows—of course she knows.” You couldn’t keep this from her even if you tried. “But, she’s also the one who told Jason to ask me out—I don’t want to make her feel worse knowing that it was a disaster.”

“Red’s tough—and really fucking persistent, actually.” Eddie comments, laughing at a far, distant memory, “I’m sure she meant well.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You shrug, hand wrapping lazily around his forearm. “Will you sleep here? With me?”

“If that’s what you want.

“I do want,” You laugh, pulling him toward you, “I want it a lot.”

It doesn’t help when you wake up to his sleeping face the next morning, void of any stress, inclination of his bad days or worse night, he was calm. And as much as you wanted him to, he didn’t touch you the entire night—despite your lack of clothing, almost like he couldn’t bring himself to do it—like he was scared.

You scoot closer, wedging your arm against his side and under his own, feeling the soft soothing warmth of his skin as he nuzzled against your neck, leaving a short peck against the column, mumbling, “Morning, baby.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it.

And it makes you breath catch, wishing that you could wake up to it every morning; the groggy morning voice, the tired and post-sex bliss in his eyes, it was everything.

“Careful,” You tease, “I might think you’re falling love with me.”

Too late, he wants to say. Instead, he changes the subject.

“Breakfast?”

It’s a wonderful way to kill the moment, but that’s what Eddie needed—and it gets both of you out of the bed without much complaint.

“You read my mind.”

Eddie turns out to be an amazing cook, a nice step up from the usual scrambled eggs and instant meals you indulge in on a weekly basis.

☆.｡.:*

He slips up again Monday, much to your own surprise and bewilderment, turning to point at you from where he’s leaned against his desk—Jason is a few rows back, thankfully.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Anyways, Eddie makes a small comment toward a student, turning to your raised hand, “Yes, sweetuh—ma’am?“

You choke on the dead air, scrambling to recover from his vital slip up, thankfully no one noticed—but, you definitely did.

And again a few days later—you almost think it’s on purpose, at this point.

It’s more intimate this time, Eddie huddled over your desk as you talked over the assignment—which truly was the entire reason he was here, but he just couldn’t help himself when he was this close to you.

You answer the question correctly, earning a soft smile from Eddie and a hushed, “Good girl.”

The sound you make disrupts the entire classroom, heads swiveling toward your direction—thankfully, Eddie is an expert at diversion, and you could live out the rest of the class reeling over Eddie’s slip up—though, that one was really just for his own amusement

You decide there’s only one way to seek revenge on him, punishing him for his endless teasing and antics—you corner him near the end of the school week, a Friday night. Eddie usually stays late to grade work in his office, which lends to a little too much downtime, and since your schedule was completely free, you ended up in his office that night—it was a first.

“We’re going to get caught,” Eddie says lazily, scribbling something down, “is that what you want?”

“Well,” You shrug, “guess I’ll have to hide, right?”

Eddie’s eyes pull up to yours, watching as you knelt and crawl underneath his desk, settling yourself in the space between his legs, feet curled underneath you. The rough, dingy carpet dug into your skin, but it was manageable.

“Are you serious?” Eddie asks, leaning back in his chair to stare at you from where you sat, looking entirely too mischievous.

In all fairness, Eddie is rarely interrupted during after school hours and spends most of his time in silence, getting his work done, and then leaving without much of a problem—unfortunately for him though, it wasn’t one of those nights.

A short, hard knock on his door has him scrambling forward, doing his best to seem casual—despite his student being tucked between his legs underneath his desk and—oh, that was definitely a hand pressing against his thigh. He slips his own hand underneath the desk, shoving yours away.

You let out a quiet laugh, ignoring his protests. Instead of going for his thigh, you go straight for the growing tent of fabric at his groin, squeezing gently. Eddie’s leg is bouncing nervously, his eyes trained on the Dean as he walks through the threshold.

“Edward,” He says curtly, attempting to remain a certain sort of professionalism, “hard at work?”

You smile at the double entendre, silently undoing the zipper and button of his pants, reaching into his underwear to pull his cock free, half hard and heavy in your hands.

“Just trying to get through these papers,” He replies calmly, “then I’ll be out of here for the weekend.”

A weekend spent with you, laid up in his bed.

“I just wanted to drop this off personally,” The Dean says, the sound of a paper hitting the surface of the desk. You lean forward to lick along the line of his shaft, the shaking in Eddie’s leg suddenly calming. It’s a small inclination to take things further, slowly fitting as much of him in your mouth as you could before pulling back slowly—you can feel the muscles of his thighs tense, rubbing against your shoulders as struggles to keep his computer, “it’s for my son.”

Eddie grabs the paper from his desk, looking it over, “Oh—Carver, yeah. He’s transferring out?”

You can’t see Eddie’s face, but his voice is all too telling. He was elated, relieved, excited—Eddie’s never hated a kid so much in his life, and he’s been around plenty of them.

“Yeah, he seemed pretty insistent about—that’s why I came here. I just need you to sign on the line to complete the paperwork.”

You lean down to mouth at Eddie’s balls, his cock still firmly in your hand as you stroked him—he clears his throat unexpectedly, gently kicking the side of your thigh.

He’s never been more thankful for the large radio shoved in the corner of the room, playing at a low volume—but still managing to muffle the ungodly noises you were making below him, silent to everyone but you and him.

Eddie doesn’t argue, signing the paper with ease, handing it back over.

“Thanks,” The Dean says, “Enjoy your weekend, Edward.”

There’s a few moments of silent footsteps, a closed door, before Eddie is pulling away abruptly, locking both of the looks on his door and pulling harshly at the string connected to the blinds on the window—you crawl out from underneath the desk slowly, coming face to face with Eddie’s shoes as they stop in front of you.

“Get up,” His voice is tight, his face even tighter as you finally look at him, “Are you fucking insane?”

You smile devilishly, “Oh, Edward,” Eddie hates it, hates how it falls from your tongue, “Yes—I am.”

Eddie crowds into your space, shoved up against the edge of his desk, ass hitting the edge as he moves up against you. He grabs at your face gently, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says seriously, “I mean it.”

You pout, eyes soft, “Fine,” You settle on, Eddie didn’t seem to be lenient on the idea and if it made him uncomfortable, you weren’t going to push it any further, “Can I leave, then?”

“Leave?” Eddie laughs, “You’re not leaving yet.”

You move to push away from the desk, but Eddie holds you there. You didn’t have anywhere to be—you wanted nothing more than to be here right now, but it was all a part of the game, riling Eddie up the best way you knew how.

“Oh?” You ask, voice lilting up, “So, you make a big fuss about me being in here and when I want to leave, I’m not allowed?”

Eddie’s face pulls up into a smirk, his thumb trailing along the line of your, squeezing at the base of your neck. He yanks roughly at his tie, losing it in one swift movement until it’s grasped in his hands.

“That’s exactly it,” Eddie answers, “—give me your hands.”

Your eyebrow raises in question, but you don’t make much of a fuss, offering your hands to him willingly. He smiles like he’s got a secret to tell, but he doesn’t want you to know—he moves your hands behind your back, leaning over to bind your wrist with the silk material of his tie.

“What’s this for?” You ask curiously.

“This if for,” There’s a soft tug, making sure your wrist are secured, “thinking it would be a good idea to come into my office, during work hours,” He leans back slightly, his lips a mere inch or two away from your own, “and put that filthy fucking mouth around my dick.”

You laugh in his face softly, tugging against the restraints—they weren’t for show, that’s for sure.

“I guess I really worked you up,” You tease, watching as he palm himself openly, he hadn’t even bothered to tuck himself back into his pants, still open for your earlier activities, “didn’t I?”

“Oh, baby,” Your heart jumps at the word, “you have no idea.”

Eddie leans into you, grinding himself against your core, his fingers slipping over the hem of your underwear to pull them down, pulling away long enough that he can toss them to the floor, his hands gripping underneath your thighs to pull you toward him, as close as humanly possible.

“Fucking me in your office?” You question with a sweet tone to your voice, “Sir, that’s against the rules.”

“Oh well,” He says offhandedly, taking no time to sink into you in one steady thrust of his hips, your hands settled behind you are the only thing managing to keep you upright, gasping at the sudden but welcoming intrusion, “I’m already breaking enough of them.”

Eddie didn’t care, anyone—he’d break all of them if that meant having you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic

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hxt1b · 4 years

Text

Let’s Just Let it Go

Doyoung x Reader

Genre: Angst, some fluff (it’s there I swear) CollegeAU (HockeyPlayer!Doyoung)

Warning: MATURE CONTENT/DARK THEMES, drinking (drink responsibly please), SMUT, swearing, TW sexual assault.

WC: 11k

Song Rec: when the party’s over by Billie Eilish

Accompanying Stories: As Long As I’m Here, Isn’t It Lovely All Alone.

Masterlist

Hockey AU Masterlist

A/N: You do not have to read all the stories to read this one. You can read this as a standalone, however reading the other two will give a better understanding of the backgrounds of the characters so if you do read all I’d suggest reading the other two first. However, by all means this can be read independently you will still understand the plot and everything without reading the other two. Lastly, please excuse the grammar, I read it over but still some things may have slipped through.

“You keep condoms in your wallet?” You asked looking up at him. Doyoung’s head was swimming, but then again that much alcohol would do that to you.

“Would you rather I didn’t have one right now?” he asked his words slurring. You shook your head. Doyoung smirked returning his attention to opening the packet and putting the condom on. He pushed you into the wall again, grabbing you from the back of your thighs forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he pushed into you.

“Fuck,” He grunted as he began to move in you. To be honest, Doyoung didn’t remember your name, he had asked, but he couldn’t recall. You’d met a couple of hours ago in the packed club, Doyoung was seeing double of everyone by the time his eyes landed on you, keeping his steps stable was a feat as he made his way over to where you were dancing, drawing you in however wasn’t that hard. You were just as drunk as him.

Your arms looped around his neck as you filled his ears with breathy moans. Doyoung was so far gone, his mind was empty as you tightened around him. A few more thrusts and he came, letting his head fall into your shoulder as he did. You stilled against him; he didn’t really know if you finished. But he was too drunk to care. After getting his breathing to even out slightly he pulled out of you.

“Well,” He said as he carefully took off the condom, “Thank you I guess.” He looked around the bathroom locating the garbage can and tossed the used condom into it. With that, he left the bathroom not looking back at you. He was still stumbling seeing two of everyone one that passed by him.

He laughed to himself as he ran into a chair. But it was better this way, he didn’t remember anything this way. Kim Doyoung could successfully say that he had just wrapped up the most unmemorable summer of his life. Unmemorable because he was drunk throughout the entire thing, but it was okay because not once this summer did Doyoung think about the girl that cheated on him. Not once did he think about Yuta, the man that he looked up to. The one that slept with his girlfriend. Nope, they didn’t even cross his mind.

But they did.

Every damn day.

---

“Get up.” The voice pounded in Doyoung’s head and a hand reached out and shook him. He grumbled. Slowly opening his eyes, he glared up at Kun. He watched as his friend rolled his eyes at him.

“We have practice.” Doyoung pulled his blanket over his head, he shouldn’t have drank last night. “Come on.”

What a new kind of hell he’d entered. He’d told himself that once the hockey practice started, he’d be fine. He wouldn’t drink, Yuta had managed to graduate, he’d avoid his ex, the campus was big enough. He could still avoid his ex, she wasn’t even on campus yet. Only the athletes were here a month before everyone. But the not drinking once hockey started, that didn’t happen, so he told himself when the semester started, and today after practice the semester started, he would have to stop drinking and his ex would be back.

He groaned again throwing his covers off of himself and getting up. His head ached with each step he took towards the shared bathroom. They had moved, this house was bigger but they still needed to share a bathroom, well at least Ten, Jaehyun, Jungwoo and himself did. Kun upon stepping into the master room with the huge en-suite pulled his new captain status on them and took the damn room.

“You’re just waking up?” Jaehyun asked him, as he passed the younger boy in the hallway. Doyoung didn’t respond just walked past him keeping his head down.

Getting into the bathroom he looked at himself, taking in his appearance, he had a huge hickey on the side of his neck, how he got it was a slight blur to him. He remembered flashes of the night only. His hair was sticking out into a million directions he looked awful, he looked sick. Looking away from himself he grabbed his toothbrush and got ready for practice, he was gonna need a gallon of coffee.

Hockey was an escape, he could be as brutal as he wanted on the ice, he was itching for a proper game so that he wouldn’t have to hold himself back he couldn’t bang up his teammates. He needed a game.

Well, it was an escape until the new guy opened his mouth.

“Hungover again Kim, why am I not shocked?” Doyoung sneered at the man lacing up his skates as he walked into the change room. His hands clenching into fists at his side, but he didn’t reply, because he was hungover, and this guy was the only one that called him out on it. Because he was the only one that didn’t know. Yet, it didn’t make Doyoung hate him any less.

What kind of a nickname was Winwin anyway?

Rolling his eyes Doyoung dumped his stuff into his cubby taking his gear out and getting ready for practice.

“Ignore him,” Kun said from his left.

“I am,” Doyoung replied.

On the ice, Doyoung couldn’t deny the new kid was an ace, why he transferred to their school he couldn’t say. He used to play for the team that they lost to last year, one step away from the cup. But that school had a killer roaster, this kid being one of the beasts on it, but here he was. Skating towards Doyoung with the puck. Their coach was ending this practice with a scrimmage, the hockey season would be starting in a few days and the coach claimed that this would re-charge everyone’s competitive sides because this was their season.

He let him get close before he began his chase, letting Winwin come to him before blocking his path he hit him into the boards. It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was a hit. They both lost the puck as Winwin bounded off the plexiglass and slammed his hands into Doyoung’s chest.

“What the fuck man?!” He asked. Doyoung shrugged, their coach was yelling as he skated over. Kun already there grabbing Winwin as he glared at Doyoung.

“What on earth are you doing kid?” The coach barked at Doyoung.

“Sorry I just got into it.” He said not feeling sorry at all. Maybe he wasn’t doing the best job of ignoring him.

“Apologize to him.” He mentally scowled, he didn’t appreciate being treated like he was a toddler.

“Sorry.”

“Okay get off the ice, shower. Practice is over!”

“Dude you gotta relax.” Ten said skating next to Doyoung.

“Why the fuck do they even call him Winwin?” Doyoung’s irritation was evident “I fucking hate the guy.

“It’s because he fucking Wins, they use to call him their lucky charm ‘Winwin.’”

---

Loneliness was a part of life that you accepted long ago, it was something that just came with your life. Your parents were rich, and they shouldn't have had kids, because they couldn’t give two shits about the two children they had. So, loneliness wasn’t an issue for you not until the reality settled in that this wasn’t loneliness it was abandonment and that was a hard pill to swallow. Looking around your dorm you took in your roommate's side it was decorated in whites, it kind of hurt your eyes but you weren’t going to say anything. It was better than being stuck in an apartment with your brother. You felt bad when you left him alone in the huge penthouse seeing as you were the reason that the two of you were here. But you couldn’t take it there anymore everything reminded you of the fact that your parents didn’t care about you.

Your phone rang pulling you away from the anger that was bubbling up inside of you at the thought of your parents. Being replaced by a growing laugh as you looked at the caller ID. Your brother.

“Hello.” You answered.

“Want to move back yet?” He teased.

“No, I do not I actually like it here.” You replied getting off your bed and beginning to pace your room. He laughed, the sound making you smile.

“I was just teasing. I called to ask if you wanted to get lunch together today?” He asked. You frowned.

“Sicheng, you aren’t eating with your teammates yet?” Your tone not hiding your disappointment.

“No,” he replied curtly.

“Be nice to them, be friends with them.”

He ignored you, “So are you going to eat with me or not?”

“No, I’ll be eating with my roommate.” You answered as she came into the room, she smiled at you having heard what you said, and you smiled back. Despite her obsession with white, you actually really liked her. “Speaking of whom, I gotta go now.”

“Fine.”

---

By lunch, Doyoung was starving, having not had time to eat after he showered in the change room. His stomach was grumbling loudly when he took his seat next to Kun at their table in the cafeteria.

“You know I’m shocked by how good the cafeteria food is here.” Mark, a first-year rookie, said drawing the attention of the table.

“Yo same, people complain a lot about cafeteria food I was actually stressed.” Hendery another rookie agreed.

Doyoung nodded, “We lucked out.”

“Yo Winwin, come sit here!” Kun yelled from next to Doyoung making him turn his head in the direction Kun was yelling in. Winwin stopped in his tracks and looked over at the table. Doyoung glared at the side of Kun’s head, but Kun ignored him.

“Be nice,” Kun muttered to him as Winwin sat down across from him at the only empty seat on the table. Doyoung did his best not to scowl. Doyoung retreated into his own brain as the table continued to chat. He focused on the broccoli on his plate. He didn’t dare look around the cafeteria.

Fuck looking at the insufferable cocky bastard in front of him, he was afraid he would see his ex. Ever since practice ended in the morning he was on edge; he didn’t want to run into her in a hallway again he was afraid because he didn’t know how he’d react. He wanted to say he wouldn’t care that he’d just walk by her and maybe he would, but he felt like he wouldn’t the risk was too high.

“So, the party is at our place on Friday to kick off the year, that way we can celebrate the four rookies joining our team, along with Winwin coming to us this year and our boy Jungwoo finally hitting the ice in a game,” Jaehyun said, as Doyoung finally tuned back into the boy's conversation.

“So, you’ll come Winwin?” Ten asked. Doyoung looked up at him frowning, the younger boy played with the fries on his plate as he nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll come by.”

“Cool bring friends if you want to.” Ten said smiling at him.

---

Doyoung made it to Friday without a drink, and then he thought about how he promised himself he wouldn’t drink when the semester started. He then re-evaluated his choice and edited his promise, he wouldn’t drink without cause this semester, and a start of the year party was cause. Was it not? The boy in the mirror smiled back at him as he held his cup up to his reflection in a cheers before downing it.

It was most definitely cause.

Leaving his room his body already buzzing he skipped down the stairs, straight into a girl. You. Doyoung looked you up and down, taking in the tight jeans you had on. He liked the way they made your ass look. He also really liked the baby pink top you had on. It was clinging to you like a second skin showing off your assets. Doyoung smirked down at you, for some reason you looked familiar.

“I’m sorry about that.” He said and you scoffed.

“Whatever.”

Doyoung stared at your back as you walked away confused at the reaction he gleaned. He’d never been bad with chicks or at least he thought he wasn’t. He looked over at your friend who shrugged at him before following you.

His house was full of people he didn’t know, and some he did. But he was at ease, this was one place he knew that his ex wouldn’t show up. So, with a quiet laugh to himself, he followed you into the living room. You were standing beside Winwin. He leaned against the wall and watched you interact with his teammate; the interaction was friendly. From the way you reacted to him it was easy to see that the two of you were close.

“What are you looking at?” Xiaojun, another first-year rookie, asked coming up next to him.

Doyoung replied by nodding his head in the direction of the pair, and Xiaojun nodded.

“His sister is hot, isn’t she?” Doyoung froze as the words left the youngers mouth. Sister.

And then it came to him, the image of you pressed against a bathroom wall, with your dress pushed up as he moved inside you. Doyoung mentally facepalmed as he remembered how he left you. Turning away Xiaojun, Doyoung moved out of the living room and into the kitchen. He went straight to the cabinet where Jaehyun kept his good liquor. Pulling out a large bottle of tequila Doyoung looked around for a shot glass. He turned around and straight into Jaehyun himself. Jaehyun looked at him with a ‘what are you doing’ expression on his face.

“I will buy you more.” Doyoung simply said finally locating the object he was looking for. Bringing the small glass over to his spot he poured some for himself. Jaehyun watched him as he tipped his head back downing the alcohol not even flinching at the burn.

“Whoa,” Jaehyun said as Doyoung went to pour himself another one. “Aren’t you trying to like drink less or something?”

“I slept with Winwin’s sister.” He quickly replied taking the next shot.

“Just now?” Jaehyun asked taking the shot glass from Doyoung after poured himself another shot.

“No. Last week.”

“Dude what the fuck.”

“Dude what the fuck indeed.” Your voice cut into their conversation making them both snap their head towards you. Leaning forward you took the full shot glass from Jaehyun’s hand and drank it.

“I didn’t even get to finish.” You said after the burn in your throat subsided. Doyoung flushed as the memory of how he left you in the bathroom flooded his mind. Jaehyun looked at him a shocked expression on his face before he broke into a smile. Doyoung could tell he was trying not to laugh at him.

He scowled in your direction taking the shot glass from you before pouring himself another shot. Jaehyun took it before he could drink it.

“Slow down,” Jaehyun said the previous laughter gone. Doyoung rolled his eyes and moved to walk away from you and Jaehyun.

“You know,” You said moving into his space. The two shots he’d just taken hadn’t quite hit him full force yet. “up until you ran away from me, I was actually having a good time.” Your chest brushed his as you leaned further into him. Doyoung narrowed his eyes but didn’t back away from you.

“Too bad you don’t actually know how to make a girl cum.” You pulled away from him taking the shot glass again. Doyoung glared at the side of your head as you poured yourself another shot. He looked past you meeting Jaehyun eyes again, the boy flat out laughing this time.

“I do, in fact, know how to make a girl cum.” He said. You scoffed.

“I wouldn’t know.” You replied and threw your head back taking the shot. You shot him a wink before walking away from him. Jaehyun only laughed harder when Doyoung looked at him again. Sneering at the younger boy he reached for the shot glass again.

“No,” Jaehyun said grabbing it before he did. “Pace yourself, Kun will slaughter you. You promised.” He regretted speaking to the new captain sometimes, he regretted telling Kun so much, but he did need help keeping himself in check. Doyoung rolled his eyes at Jaehyun before walking away.

For the rest of the party, he couldn’t get his mind off of you. You stuck to your brother and your friend for the majority of the party and Doyoung didn’t like to interact with him more than he already needed to. Taking his eyes off you as you laughed at something your friend said Doyoung looked around the living room, Kun and Jaehyun weren’t anywhere in sight. He could only spot the rookies as they played beer pong in the corner of the room. Getting up from his spot on the couch he made his way into the kitchen again not seeing any of his roommates. Taking his chance, he made his way to the cabinet pulling it open and grabbing Jaehyun’s Tequila again. Your words pounding in his head as he took a shot straight from the bottle.

“Getting shit-faced as usual,” Winwin said coming into the kitchen. Doyoung didn’t look at him as he took another swing.

“How about you mind your own business,” Doyoung said and brushed past him back into the living room taking the bottle with him. His eyes narrowed in on you as you swayed to the music. Doyoung wasn’t in the mood of arguing with Winwin but if he had been he would have claimed that this was nothing compared to how his drinking usually went. He hadn’t had more than a couple of sips of Kun’s drink after the shots he took in the kitchen until now. Walking up to you he caught your attention, your eyes landing on the bottle he held in his hand.

He let you take it from him as he leaned into the wall. He watched you take a drink some of the alcohol flowing out the corner of your mouth.

“Where did your friend go?” He asked as you wiped at your mouth.

“Home. She’s not really into parties.” You replied. Doyoung watched as you licked your lips passing him the bottle back. But he didn’t want the alcohol. His mind running as he took you in, his mind flashing to the night last week.

“That’s a shame.” He replied. Your eyes darkened as he reached out and pulled you to him. “So, you're just here all by yourself now. Hanging out with your brother.” His hand moving to the side of your neck as he looked down at you. You let him, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“There’s nothing wrong with hanging out with my brother.” You replied.

“No there isn’t except that you aren’t hanging out with him right now, are you?” You frowned up at him and then looked around the room. Doyoung followed your gaze, Winwin was still in the kitchen. Doyoung smiled to himself as you turned your eyes back to him.

“It’s a good thing I came when I did.” You snickered at his words.

“Is it though?” He rolled his eyes at you. That was it, he could not go down in history with this shit on his name.

---

You crashed into his door, your back stinging from the impact but you ignored it as his lips returned to yours. His lips were rough, moving against yours at a bruising rate, you loved it. His hands were roaming your body pulling at your clothes.

“Bed.” You breathed against his mouth. He chuckled at you as he grabbed your hands holding them above your head as he continued to kiss you.

“You don’t get to call any shots babe.” He said, his mouth moving from your lips to your jaw, leaving a start mark on your skin. You moaned tilting your head to give him more space, he took the chance to leave soft kisses down your neck towards your chest. His hands letting yours go as he lowered himself down your body.

He looked up at you as he got on his knees, his fingers grabbing at the buttons of your jeans before undoing them. You watched as he undressed you, leaving you naked from the bottom half as you stepped out of your jeans. Doyoung licked his lips as he grabbed your leg draping it over his shoulder.

He pressed a wet kiss to the inside of your thigh, your breath hitched as you watched him. Your hand moving to his hair. He moaned softly when you tugged on the strands pulling him towards your wet heat. He pressed a kiss to your clit, using his fingers to separate your folds, relieving some of the tension that was boiling up in your body. You moaned when he darted his tongue out, a short lick. Before retreating again and looking up at you. Your eyes glassed over as you pulled at his hair again.

He obliged again, licking up your slit slowly, dragging his tongue through your wet folds. He groaned into you, the vibrations causing you to shiver. Your head fell back against the door and he took your clit into his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue ghosting over it. You moved your hips against his mouth wanting him to add his fingers. But your words were lost on you, only nonsense flowing past your lips as he picked up his pace. Your moans grew louder as you drew closer, your eyes closed shut as you chased your climax.

His name rolled off your tongue as your back arched off the door. The muscles in your body tightened, as you clambered for a better grip on him. You felt his teeth gently nip at your hard nub and you crashed over the edge, your orgasm taking over your body as you pulled at his hair. He continued his ministrations, working you through your orgasm. Your body was in overdrive as you came down, a lot more sensitive than you previously were. You pulled at his hair again pulling away from you, he scowled up at you as you finally looked down at him. His lips were red and wet. He grabbed your hands as he got up. Pulling you to the bed.

He let you lay down, as he rounded the bed going to his nightstand. He pulled out silver handcuffs. Your breathing shallowed as you took in the steel in his hands.

“No more touching me.” He said as he placed a knee onto the bed leaning over you. He grabbed your hands bringing them up to his headboard. He closed one handcuff around your wrist the cold metal making you hiss as it came in contact with your skin. He looped the handcuffs around one of the metal rungs on his bed before bringing the other one to your other hand locking you in.

He took a second to look down at you, before leaning down and kissing your swollen lips. You moaned into him, his tongue brushing against yours, you could taste yourself on him and it was driving you crazy. Your thighs already moving against each other as your body reacted to him, more moisture pooling in between your legs.

“I probably should have taken this off first,” Doyoung said pulling away from your lips. His hands moving under your shirt pushing it up off you leaving it around your hands, he did the same with your bra.

“But then again, you’re not the most attentive to details, are you?” You teased, he narrowed his eyes at you pinching your nipple, earning a soft cry from you.

“I wouldn’t be saying shit like that right now.” He threatened, lowering his mouth to your breast. You gasped as he took your pointed nub into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple before letting it go. He glanced up at you before trailing wet kisses over to your other breast and doing the same thing there. You squirmed underneath him, clenching your thighs tightly as you got worked up again. He pulled back from your chest looking down at your closed legs, a chuckle leaving him as he looked back up at you. His eyes dark, his pupils blown.

Adjusting so that he was between your legs he hovered over you, leaving marks on your collarbone. You hissed moving against him, you could feel his erection through his jeans. You rolled your hips into him savouring the small amount of friction you were getting until he grabbed your hips and pushed them down into his bed. You groaned against his mouth as he pressed his mouth onto yours, his tongue pushing against yours.

Finally, his fingers connected with your core, he slid a finger into you using his thumb to rub your already abused and sensitive clit. A loud moan left you again as your wrists pulled against the handcuffs, the metal biting into your skin.

“Faster please.” You whined trying to move against his hand but not being able to, his hand holding your hip only tightened. You’d most definitely have a bruise there tomorrow. He picked up the pace. He kissed you harder as he added another finger, his tongue mirroring the actions of his hand as he propelled you towards another orgasm, your body seized up again, muscles tightening as you arched up into him. Your orgasm came faster this time, having already been worked up from the previous one. You panted against him as he pulled his fingers out of you, you watched biting your lower lip as he took his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“I’d say you’d agree, I’m actually great at making women cum.”

---

You walked into the cafeteria the next day for lunch, the hockey team as per usual was in their typical spot. Your brother sitting in the middle talking. You smiled as you neared the table coming up behind Doyoung. Kun smiled at you as you looped your arms around Doyoung’s neck. He stiffened for a second before turning his head to look at you, only relaxing when he realized it was you.

“Your dear brother is right there.” He said to you quietly.

“My brother doesn’t dictate who I fuck.” You replied pressing a kiss to his lips. Doyoung narrowed his eyes at you as you took the empty seat next to him. For some reason, you were really bold around this man, something you hadn’t been in a long time. You looked across the table feeling your brothers’ eyes on you. You smiled at him before turning back to Doyoung, but Doyoung was looking past you. Trying to get his attention but failing you followed his gaze, seeing a girl who was also staring back. You recognized the girl as your neighbour.

“Do you know her?” You asked finally getting Doyoung’s attention. He didn’t reply just pulled your chair closer before snaking his hand around the back of your head and pulling your lips to his. You kissed him back with the same desperation he displayed only pulling away when you needed to breathe. Kun whistled as you wiped at your lips, when you looked at Doyoung he was looking past you again. You threw a quick glance over your shoulder to see the girl gone.

“Doyoung?”

“My ex.” He answered you as he turned to his food.

---

Sitting in your room as Sena, your roommate and you waited for your next class you replayed the way Doyoung had reacted in the cafeteria.

“Sena,” you started looking over at her, “you said you stayed in this dorm last year too?” Sena nodded turning her attention to you. “Did you have the same neighbour?”

“Yeah, why?” She asked, now putting her pen down and turning her full attention to you.

“Her and Doyoung used to date, right?” Sena sighed her eyes moving around the room as she realized what you were asking.

“Yeah, they did. She cheated on him though. I would hear them sometimes, mostly Doyoung, but it was painful to hear. One night. He begged her to let him in for hours and she just left him out in the hall. It was all over campus too, she slept with his teammate. Yuta.”

You bit your lip as Sena turned back to her book, you didn’t know how to react. Being cheated on was a horrible thing but to have it happen with someone as close as your teammate.

“Fuck a teammate that doesn’t know the first thing about being a decent human.”

Your brothers’ words floated into your head. You were confused about how people could just so easily trample over others. You thought about Doyoung’s face at lunch, how quickly he shut off after seeing his ex. Your mind floating to the dark places you tried very hard to hide from as you remembered the last party you’d gone to at your old university.

“Crap Y/N we have ten minutes until class let’s get going,” Sena said as she scrambled to get her stuff together.

---

You saw Doyoung again after class, he was walking across the parking lot to his car. He hadn’t seen you yet but you smiled as you decided to make your way over to him, it was weird that you enjoyed his company only because besides fooling around nothing else had really happened. You made it to his car before he did. So, you took the extra free time to stare at him, you took in the way he scrunched his eyes against the autumn sun, the way the breeze blew through his hair.

“Doyoung!” You blinked your eyes away from him and moved your eyes in the direction of the call. You saw your neighbour again, you quickly looked back at Doyoung as he froze, stopping in his steps. You watched as his hands tightened into fists at his side and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. He ignored her and continued in your directions towards the car.

“Hey,” You said softly catching his attention. His head snapped to yours as he unlocked his car. He didn’t smile at you just nodded. “You going home?” he nodded again taking his bottom lip between his teeth in a manner that showed he wasn’t happy.

“Get in.” He said as he yanked open his door. You obliged, pulling open the passenger door. You threw a glance over your shoulder. She was still standing there; you couldn’t help but sneer as you ducked into his car.

He was silent as he pulled out the parking lot, his hands holding the steering wheel tightly causing his knuckles to turn white. You leaned forward and looked at the side of his face, you stared, because he wasn’t even turning on the radio.

“Uh, you're being weird.” He said as you tilted your head more and moved closer to his side.

“Am I?” You asked, he furrowed his eyebrows and pushed you back taking one hand off the wheel.

“Tell me about it.” You said settling back into your seat, “Just say what’s bothering you it’ll help and I swear I won’t judge you.”

He stayed silent and you sighed.

“It can’t be worse than not knowing how to make a girl cum.” You joked. He scoffed as he glanced over at you again his face fighting a smile.

“You know that’s not true.” He replied.

“So, tell me.” You insisted again, “I mean I do know that she cheated on you.” You added bluntly. His barely-there smile disappearing again pushing him back into his silence.

“She doesn’t deserve this much from you, you know that?” you said as he pulled into his driveway. “This much energy, and time.” He parked the car, but he didn’t move, both of you stayed in your seats not even unbuckling your seat belts.

“She didn’t apologize, not once.” He was looking down at his hands. “Everyone tells me that she doesn’t deserve my time. She once told me that I didn’t deserve this, but you get what you deserve right? People always say that, what the fuck did I ever do to deserve this?” You shook your head as he spoke. Unbuckling your seat belt, you reached for him. Letting your hands guide his head so that he was looking at you, his eyes were watery and red filled with angry unshed tears.

“The world does not give you what you deserve Doyoung, the world is unfair, and people are cruel. You did not deserve to be cheated on.” He stared at you, his hands shaking. He blinked his eyes forcing the moisture away before he moved, grabbing your chin and pulling your lips to his. You let him, getting caught up in the way his lips moved against yours, he stole your air. Greedily moving his hands to your hair and you let yours slip to his shirt, holding him close to you.

He pulled away; his breathing uneven as he looked at you again.

“Why are you here?” He asked, and you smiled at him.

“Because babe, contrary to my jokes you can make a girl cum.”

---

Doyoung enjoyed your company, he liked your weird bluntness, your lack of fear of the world but most of all he liked the sex. He liked that you looked at him like you wanted to eat him. He like that he didn’t feel lonely around you. He just liked you.

“So we're basically friends with benefits then huh?” You asked pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked over at you, taking in the fact that you were still naked on his bed even though you two had fucked over an hour ago.

“I mean because like if we are I just wanna know if we're the kind that don’t fuck other people or if we’re the kind that do.” He was perplexed by your rambling not expecting you to say this, and he wasn’t sure how to respond not that he got the chance because you continued.

“I mean I’m not the type to sleep with more than one person like that, not that there’s anything wrong with people who do, I just would like to know if you’re, like you know, sleeping with people other than me that’s all.”

He smiled at you as your cheeks turned a dark shade of red as you let words pour out of your mouth.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone else.” He said cutting you off. You bit your lip, trying to hide the painfully obvious smile that was stretching across your face. Doyoung’s own smile only grew as he got up from his desk chair and moved to his bed climbing on top of you. He pressed his lips against yours lightly.

“Want to go out somewhere today?” he asked looking down at you.

“Like where?”

---

“An indoor theme park?” You asked your eyes widening as you took in the rides and attractions. “You know in the month that I’ve known you Kim Doyoung, I did not take you for the theme park type.” He smiled at you as you continued to look around your hand reaching for his the more excited you got.

“Come we have to start with this.” You said and began to pull him in the direction of the roller coaster. “No, wait,” You paused and pulled him in the other direction, “That’s gotta be last.” Doyoung laughed behind you letting you pull him.

“Doyoung!” You exclaimed in amusement stopping in your tracks as you got excited again. “Look how big that bear is.” Your eyes moved to Doyoung’s face a huge smile taking over your facial expression. He looked down at you, his eyebrow cocked up as he looked down at you.

“What?” You asked, getting slightly self-conscious as he looked at you.

“I haven’t said a single word, yet you know that?” He teased leaning towards you. You rolled your eyes and pushed at his chest.

“Get me the bear, Kim.”

He didn’t get you the bear, turned out Doyoung sucked at these kinds of games because he tried five times and each time won nothing. You had to drag him away from the stall because if you didn’t, he would have stayed there the entire time. Hours passed as you went on ride after ride and played a couple more games where you did win a small bear, you’d passed it to Doyoung with a teasing remark that had him glaring at you.

Exhausted you settled into the bench as you waited for Doyoung to come back with something to eat. You smiled at him when he looked over at you as he stood in the line for mini donuts, he winked back at you. A warm feeling settled into your stomach, you didn’t have time to think about it though as your phone began to ring.

“Hello, brother.” You said happily.

“Mom and dad called,” he said getting straight to the point, “They instructed that we have to go back for a dinner.” Your heart rate picked up as you processed what your brother had just said to you. You were beginning to feel warm as anger bubbled up inside you.

“After they kicked us out?” You asked. Your anger coming out in your tone. Winwin didn’t respond. “Fuck them I’m not going.”

“We have to Y/N, you know we have to.” He said and you hung up on him. Fuck them all. Who did they think they were? Winwin called again and you ignored the call turning your phone off. You didn’t want to deal with this right now. First, they kick you and your brother out over a business deal and now, now they were threatening money. You knew that you and your brother didn’t have incomes you knew that at the end of the day you still needed them. But you hated it.

You tucked your phone away, looking up at Doyoung as he walked over to you and sat down, you took a mini donut shoving it into your mouth, your mouth burning with how hot it was. You swore as you opened your mouth and took in air to cool it down. Doyoung laughed at you, and just like that the anger from earlier dissipated and the warm feeling you had from before came back. You watched Doyoung as you chewed and he laughed at you, you couldn’t get enough of his laugh. He laughed around you a lot, and to be honest, you lived for it.

“You’re so dumb.” He said still calming down from his laughing fit. His hand reached out rubbing at the corner of your mouth, wiping away sugar, and you swore your stomach felt like you were on the rollercoaster all over again.

---

His hands were everywhere, grabbing at everything. Loud breaths filled your ears as he panted around you, your heart was beating a mile a minute in the worst kind of way. You opened your mouth to scream but you couldn’t as he pushed his tongue down your mouth. You couldn’t push him away he was everywhere.

You woke up with a startle, your body drenched in a cold sweat. You shivered as your mind went into overdrive, your pulse drumming loudly as you turned over in your bed. You took in large breaths to try and calm yourself, to distract yourself from the memory. But every time you closed your eyes that night would come back.

“No.” You said as Dae swarmed you, backing you into a corner. He was drunk insanely drunk, you pushed at his chest as his hands began to wander up to your thigh.

He shushed you, his mouth coming down to yours. You shoved at him again turning your head to the side.

“Why are you being this difficult?” he asked, his hand shooting out and grabbing your wrists. Your mind went blank as his mouth pushed back against yours his tongue pushing into your mouth. His knee came up between your legs. You screamed, and before you knew it, he was ripped off you. Your brother over him, fists were flying everywhere but you couldn’t hear anything over your own hysteria. Your hands were shaking as you pushed out the room and out the house, gasping for air as you tried to calm your breathing.

More hands were around you, pulling you towards them but you pushed them away.

“Hey, hey.” It was Winwin, “I’m here. Let’s go home.” He said. You looked at him, your vision blurry. His lip was cut and from the way, his cheekbone was swelling you knew it would bruise tomorrow.

You cried harder.

You opened your eyes again, reaching for your phone. You thought that was gonna be the worst day of your life, but the next day was worse.

Hitting the call button, you held the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” His voice was groggy, you realized that you’d woken him.

“Doyoung.” You said quietly, “Can you come get me?”

---

You weren’t shocked when he came, but that shocked you. The fact that you weren’t shocked. You could tell he was tired when he pulled up to your building.

“Sorry,” You said as you got into the car. He shook his head slightly shivering as he looked over at you.

“Are you okay?” You looked at your hands. You knew you could tell him, you knew you trusted him. You also knew that if you said you didn’t want to talk about it he’d just take you to his house and you’d sleep, but you needed to talk about it. You wanted to tell him.

“My parents called my brother today.” You started, “They want us to go see them for dinner.” You looked over at Doyoung taking in his reaction, he looked confused, but he didn’t say anything he just listened and waited for you to continue.

“My parents are complicated,” You continued, “they, well they kicked Winwin and I out at the end of the last school year…”

Your father was furious the next morning, you’d never seen him this mad. Your hands were trembling in your lap as you listened to him yell at your brother. Your anger rising.

“My deal fell through because you can’t keep your anger in check!” Your brother stayed silent as well, “Do you understand how much money we just lost, we’re all over the news our family name is ruined. They’re calling you a thug, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“He was coming on to me.” You finally said having enough, “H-he was trying to do things when I was saying no!” You yelled getting up. Your father turned his glare towards you. His eyes didn’t soften the way you expected them to.

“He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” He asked his voice cold. Shock ran through your body at your fathers’ words. A business deal really meant more to him? You looked up at your mother who looked away from you. You blinked back tears as the rage in you rose again, you looked over at your brother who looked equally as shocked. His anger on his face.

“You two need to get out of my house. I have to show the world that I don’t support your stupid behaviour and there will be consequences. You both are going to a different school and I will send you a fixed fund and pay for your tuition, but you will not stay at my house. I do not want to see your faces.”

Doyoung listened intently as you told him everything, your hands fisting into your sweats as your anger rose inside you as you spoke. You couldn’t look at him though, you looked out the window.

“And now you have to go see him because if you don’t, he threatens to not pay for anything?” Doyoung asked. You nodded still not looking at him. His hand reached out and grabbed your arm, but you flinched. His hand instantly shot away from you.

“Baby, look at me.” He said keeping his hands to himself. You slowly turned your head to him; his face was angry. “That motherfucker that did that to you can rot in hell and your dad’s a greedy bastard. I’d say fuck it and don’t go but I understand why you have to.” He hesitantly reached for you again, this time you leaned into his reach taking his hand and pulling him towards you. “I – I can go with you if that would make you feel better.” He said.

You’d done a lot of things to help you get over the incident, one of those things was trying to find a guy at the bar and fuck him, to prove to yourself that you had control over your own body that what happened with Dae, and your dad did not need to take over your whole life. That you did what you wanted, and you had control over what you wanted, you didn’t regret it either because somehow it got you to him. You pressed your lips to his kissing him slowly. You didn’t understand what you felt for him, but you knew that there was something because when you were around him you felt warm and safe, and free.

---

You didn’t take Doyoung with you, but he told you that he’d have his phone on the entire time and that you could call him whenever. Getting out of your brothers’ car you both looked up at the huge house that you both use to call home.

“I fucking hate him.” You mumbled to yourself and you both made your way up the few steps to the front door. Winwin pressed the doorbell and you both waited only a few seconds before your mother pulled the door open for you two.

“Hello,” She said a tight smile on her face. “Please behave today, your father has put a lot of effort into making sure this day would come to be.” You were confused, you looked over at Winwin who mirrored your reaction. Effort into getting the two of you here?

Your confusion vanished when you followed your mother into the sitting from and saw him. He sat there with a smirk, his body relaxed as he leaned back in a high back chair. His father sitting on a couch beside his mother. You looked around the room for your father, he was already looking at you with a fake smile on his face.

“Welcome home kids.”

---

You followed your father into his office, Winwin at your heels, he’d ushered the two of you to follow him as a deafening silence filled the sitting room for ten minutes as you all stared at each other. Your hands were sweating so much that you had to wipe them on your dress every few minutes. You were glad the dress was black.

Your mother had finally ended the silence by announcing that the dinner was ready. Your father had ushered you after him the moment everyone had gotten up.

As Winwin closed the door of the office you glared at your father.

“What is th-”

He cut you off, “You will apologize to them after dinner, both of you. They agreed that the deal could be back on if you apologize.” You both balked at him. He didn’t allow either of you to speak before ushering you out of the room again. Both of you were too shocked to move still processing what your father had just said to you. When neither of you moved, he did, swinging open the door and walking out. You stared at your brother as he glared at the spot his father was standing in.

“Fuck that.” He said and stormed after your father, you scrambled after him.

“I don’t know what you thought was going to happen at this dinner, but the last thing we’re going to do is apologize to that fucking rat,” Winwin said stopping at the head of the long table as your father turned around and glared at him. The room was silent everyone staring at Winwin with wide eyes, even you were shocked.

“And your inheritance? Your funds? Don’t forget your place kid. You will apologize.” Your father replied calmly. Your brother was fuming, taking a step forward until he was standing right in front of your father.

“Fuck you and fuck your money.”

Your father snorted.

“How do you think your gonna afford your life boy?”

“We’ll figure it out, we don’t need you.” You finally said taking your brother's hand and pulling him with you. You both left the large dining room, taking hurried steps towards the front door, both itching to be out the house. You pushed the front door open and walked out.

“Go to the car,” Winwin said unlocking his car for you, “I have to grab something.” You nodded not questioning him and made your way to the car.

You opened the door and got in, but someone caught the door as you pulled it. Dae leaned down into your space grabbing your face in his hand. His mouth a fraction away from yours, your nose was assaulted with the strong cologne he overused.

“You think that you won?” he asked, “You didn’t, now you’re a broke bitch with nothing to your name. You’re a nobody.” You shoved him off of you kicking his shin as you did. He swore and let go of you backing up. He chuckled. “I heard about your new toy. I heard you suck his dick like a real whore would. So, it’s just me huh? It’s only a little bit before he gets bored of you. You aren’t enough and you never will be.”

He slammed the door shut as Winwin bound out the house. You watched your brother as anger took over his features again as saw Dae

“See you on the ice motherfucker,” Dae said slamming into Winwin's shoulder as he passed him.

“What did he say to you?” Winwin asked as he got into the car. You shook your head and looked away from him.

“Let’s just go.”

---

Three days and Doyoung hadn’t heard from you he’d called and texted only to be ignored. His head was spinning, he was feeling crazy. You weren’t his girlfriend, but he was losing it. His head ached as he stared at your contact. He felt lonely again his mind drifting to every place it shouldn’t go, every insecurity he’d developed lapping at him as he sat at the kitchen table. What happened? Did he do something wrong? Was it a mistake to tell you that he’d go with you? You hadn’t taken him after all, you hadn’t called him after and when he had called you, you’d ignored him. That awful feeling of abandonment hit him hard, his heart hurt and he couldn’t explain why.

He got up stalking over to the cabinet and pulling out Jaehyun’s alcohol again. He didn’t need a shot glass he just opened the bottle and took a swing, the liquor burned as it made its way down his throat. He didn’t give himself time to think before he drank more.

He wasn’t going to go see you, one because he couldn’t do that to himself this time not again, he couldn’t beg like he had with his ex. He also realized that he didn’t have a single clue where your dorm was. That realization also hurt because he’d let you into his life every inch of it, and the moment he found out something dark about you, you shut him out. He closed his eyes as he took another swing, no rational thought entering his mind as he did so.

“Why do they ruin all my good places?” He muttered to himself as he grabbed his keys from the key holder, stumbling towards the door.

“Hey what the fuck, Doyoung are you drunk?” Ten’s voice caught his attention as he opened the front door, cold hair hitting him as he did.

“I mean I don’t know.” He replied, his words kind of slurring. Ten furrowed his eyes brows at him rushing to him as he did.

“Were you going to drive?” He asked.

“I mean maybe. I don’t know.” He replied.

Ten narrowed his eyes at him and took his keys. Doyoung rolled his eyes and glared down at the boy.

“Well fine then you gotta drive me, okay?” he said and grabbed Ten's arm pulling him out the house towards his car.

“Why are you drunk on a Wednesday Doyoung, I thought you stopped this.” Ten said, Doyoung could sense the judgement in his friends’ words. But he’d expected it. His vision blurred as he leaned back into his seat, his head spinning from the alcohol. He closed his eyes and laughed.

“Ten my man, it’s because I’m a fucking loser and everyone leaves me.” His head fell to the side as Ten started the car.

“Take me to the indoor theme park.” He said and then laughed, “because I’m a sucker for a bad time.”

A couple of minutes later Ten was parked in the parking lot, but the theme park was closed. Doyoung just nodded his head as Ten told him leaning his head into the window.

“Did you really like her?” Ten asked, his voice soft. Doyoung shrugged.

“Not that it matters now.” But he did, the answer was yes. He liked you around him, he liked your laugh, your smile, the ease you gave him. He liked that you spoke too much practically all the time and never really thought about what you were about to say. He liked how you made him feel, he liked that you didn’t make him want to drink. He liked you.

Ten frowned, staring at Doyoung.

“I’m not back to drinking like before,” Doyoung said quietly, he wasn’t able to look at Ten. “I just – I’m not back to drinking okay?”

“Okay.”

“Give me a couple of minutes and then we can go.” Ten nodded at Doyoung’s words and turned up the music.

---

Doyoung was pissed, it had been a week and honestly, he didn’t give a fuck anymore, or at least he liked to tell himself that. He kept his word and didn’t drink, but that just meant that he was always angry, especially angry whenever he looked at Winwin.

“We’re playing against your old school huh?” Doyoung heard Jaehyun ask Winwin. The other boy only nodded as he got into his gear. Doyoung ground his teeth and continued to get dressed. He wanted to be out on the ice bad, his blood was pumping, he needed to let the anger out one way or another.

Halfway through the game, Doyoung was drenched in sweat, but his anger was coming down as he let himself be taken away by the sport. Adrenaline pumped through him as the whistle blew starting the third period. The other team got possession and Doyoung focused on defence. He kept his mind blank as he played only thinking about the game, Jungwoo checked the player with the puck, the puck going astray. Doyoung took his opening and claimed the puck, skating as he looked around for an open teammate to pass to. Seeing Winwin open he sent the puck down the ice in the same second he was slammed into the plexiglass. His ribs ached from the hit he slipped onto the ice and looked up at the guy who’d hit him, for some reason he was hovering over him still.

“How are my sloppy seconds?” He asked, “The prude give you blue balls yet?” Doyoung’s head spun as he slowly got up, he was used to hits so his usual recovery time wasn’t this slow but, then again, he never was hit this hard. “But then again I heard that she sucks your dick like a prostitute.” But he wasn’t slow to understand what this fuck was saying. Taking his gloves off as he got up, Doyoung swung at the other man. His hands shoving him hard in the chest, before skating after him and grabbing his jersey. Doyoung didn’t think he just began to punch him, he was shoved back his helmet coming off as the other boy took his own helmet off.

“Fuck you.” Doyoung spat, as the boy charged him, he got one good hit in. Straight to Doyoung’s jaw, before the refs were on them. Winwin was in front of him in seconds grabbing him from the ref.

“Relax.” The younger boy said as the ref ejected both Doyoung and the other guy.

“Let me go.” He said and shook Winwin off of him as he skated off the ice and went straight to the change room.

---

He was under the spray of the shower when you walked into the locker room. The steam was filling the locker room, making the air hot as you quietly walked in his direction. He saw you before you spoke his eyes darkening as you leaned against the wall.

“Doyoung.” You said his name softly, earning a glare from him. You deserved it; you’d let Dae’s words get to you. But now looking at him, taking the way he winced under the hot water the darkening bruise on his ribcage, the cut on his lip. You frowned.

Dae was wrong. You looked at Doyoung, you knew whatever happened on the ice was because of you, and he’d done that even when you’d ignored him.

“I’m sorry,” you said and took a step towards him.

“For what? Ignoring me? Or fucking with my head?” You didn’t reply just walked towards him, slowly getting under the water and letting your hands trace over his ribcage, your fingers skimming over the growing bruise.

“For everything.” You said, letting your hand move up to his wet hair. The water soaked into your clothes as you pulled him into you, he let you. His arms looping around your waist. You looked up at him watching his face soften as he took you in.

“Why’d you ignore me?” he asked. His breath fanning across your face.

“Someone told me I wasn’t enough for you and I believed them.” Doyoung’s hands tightened, you closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against his. “I let my head get carried away with every insecurity I’ve ever had.”

“I’m glad you came to your senses.” He said, his hand moving your shirt up so that his fingers could trace your skin. He pressed his lips to yours kissing you slowly as he moved your wet shirt up your torso.

“Don’t ignore me next time.” He said moving his lips to your jaw, “Come talk to me instead.” You nodded and pulled out of his hold. Pushing him to the wall you ripped your shirt off over your head and quickly took off your pants.

“Promise.” You said, “but we don’t have that long until the game ends.” looking up at him through hooded eyes, you pressed yourself against him again, you kissed his jaw, before moving down to his collar bone, taking the skin onto your mouth you gently bit it before running your tongue over it as he hissed. You kissed down his chest to the side of his ribcage pressing hot kisses down his wet skin. Until you got to his erection, he was hard and ready for you. You squatted down taking him in your hand as you looked up at him, he looked at you through half-lidded eyes as you slowly moved your hand up and down his length before pressing a soft kiss to the head. He groaned before letting his head fall back as he tangled his hand into your wet hair.

“Babe,” He moaned as you took this tip into your mouth swirling your tongue around before moving him further into your mouth. Your hand working the rest of his cock as you continued to slowly move down on him.

You stopped when Doyoung removed his hand from your hair and grabbed your wrist, you looked up at him again. His chest was heaving, and he looked at you like he was ready to devour you.

“I love it when you give me head, but we really don’t have time for that.” He said moving himself out of your mouth. He pulled you up to him, his mouth joining yours again and his fingers trailed to your core.

“So wet.” He said dragging a finger through your fold. Pulling his hand away from you he turned you around before turning around himself, your front against the cold wall, you moaned at the contrast.

“Don’t take too long.” He said and lined himself up at your entrance. You moaned when he sank in his hands grabbing roughly at your ass before he started to thrust into you. You arched your back as you clenched around him, his cock twitching in you.

“You’re so tight.” He moaned, his hand grabbing at your shoulder as his thrusts became harsher. You heard the buzzer of the game, indicating that the game was over. Your moans grew louder as the idea of the entire hockey team rushing in hit you.

“Fuck,” Doyoung groaned his thrusts growing harsher, as you neared your climax. “You gotta cum now, pretty girl.” He said his arm winding around you so that his fingers could rub your clit. The added pressure pushed you along until your orgasm smashed into you. You moaned loudly as Doyoung continued to thrust into you, your muscles twitching around him pushing him to his climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He panicked as he pulled out of you, using his hand to reach his orgasm. “We forgot a condom.” You turned around pushing his hand away and working him with your own until he came. You pushed your lips against him, both of you breathing erratically as you kissed.

“What am I going to wear to get out.” You asked him pulling away from him. You both looked at your wet clothes.

“I have an extra hoodie here, and I can look in Ten’s cubby he’s probably got sweats that will fit you.”

He didn’t finish his sentence as the boys crashed into the locker room. Your eyes widened mirroring Doyoung’s. He quickly yanked you pulling you towards the line of toilet stalls. He shoved you in as the boys barked at each other not noticing the two of you yet.

“Sorry stay here.” He said shoving his towel at your chest.

“Dude why are you walking around naked?” You heard Mark ask as you wrapped the towel around yourself.

“Because I can.” You hear Doyoung mumble back, his tone irritated.

---

“You guys take forever in the change room.” You complained as Doyoung walked with you to the dorms.

“My coach would have killed us.” He stated as he pulled you into him. “I’m sorry though that’s the only thing I could think of.”

“Whatever it’s okay.”

“So, I finally get to go up to your dorm huh?” He asked, and you nodded.

“I would have brought you sooner, but I have a roommate who never leaves our room. I love her but damn is she anti-social. Getting her to that start of the year party was hard.” You explained as the two of you climbed the stairs. Doyoung looked at your ass as you walked up in front of him. It was hard not to. He was glad to hear that the reason for not seeing your dorm was because of something simple and not what he’d actually made it into in his head. You rounded out the stairwell pushing the door open into the hall of your floor. Doyoung froze as he realized what floor you lived on. A floor he’d been to many, many times last semester.

“Doyoung?” He heard her voice before he saw, and dread set into him again. He snapped his head towards her direction as your hand slipped into his. His ex was staring at him, her eyes slightly wide as she took in his profile. The cut lip, the slightly swelling jaw. He frowned at her.

“What?” He asked his voice cold.

“Uh, what happened to you?” She asked.

“None of your business.” He replied. She nodded. He watched her as she swallowed and hesitated again. He tightened his hand around yours again.

“Uh yeah. D-do you think I could talk to you in private for a second?” she asked glancing over at you.

“Whatever you have to say you can say in front of Y/N.”

“Yeah, okay sure, you know I – I realized I never apologized to you.” She finally said. Doyoung was shocked, he was silent for a few seconds. He wasn’t sure if he heard that right. He was only snapped out of his daze when you tugged on his hand lightly taking his attention from his ex to you. You looked up at him with a soft expression on your face, you looked so wholly his. The way you were looking at him his heart clenched as he looked back at his ex. Somewhere along the way, he realized that he didn’t care about his ex anymore, he didn’t miss her or want her back. He was hurt sure but that was fading too. He knew he wanted to hear this and here it was, and it felt like he was being freed.

“I forgive you.” She nodded her eyes filling with water. Doyoung turned away from her taking you into his arms.

“Now show me where your room is baby.” He said smiling down at you. You smiled up at him and nodded pulling him with you towards your room.

“It’s nothing special.” You said as you pushed the room door open. He didn’t look around as he closed the door behind him. Just pushed you onto your bed, kissing you.

He wasn’t gonna let you get away from him.

Not that you were planning on going anywhere.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this, I really hope you guy enjoyed it! Please let me know what you guys thought, any opinions or comments you have on the story are very much welcome I love to hear from you guys so please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think. Additionally if you have any constructive criticism don’t be afraid to let me know, I always want to get better so its welcome and appreciated.

The next part to this AU will be Winwin so please look forward to that! and once again thank your for reading I really hope you liked it!

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide.

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone.

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood.

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you.

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall.

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne.

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination.

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby.

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his.

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes. With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet.

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system.

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did.

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even,

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end.

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

#murder he wrote #j's haunted house 2020 #dark ransom #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn’t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #tlh #the last hours #fanfic #fanfiction #champagne problems au

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 4 years

Note

Hey I loved your imagine we’re readers thinks she’s a bad mom to James. It was so cute, maybe you could do a part two where he’s going into his first year of school and he’s a little scared and has a moment with his mom

mixed with this request: harry being a cute dad pls.

part two of this imagine

pairing: harry potter x reader

warning(s): pg, literally just cute

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this was not supposed to be this long at all but i just couldn’t stop. kids make me melt. also yes, i totally changed albus’ name to remus because i cannot stand that harry named his child after those two. sorry not sorry.

Ten and a half years later, it was finally James’ first day of Hogwarts. The day you would be boarding your eldest child onto the Hogwarts Express to the castle that you and your husband had met in all those years ago.

As you and your husband walked through King’s Cross with your three children, you kept a close eye on your eldest. He was pushing his trolley with his head held high, showing a bit of confidence and excitement for his first day, but you could sense the nervous energy radiating off of him. Your baby was scared and you knew it.

You could see it in the way he was holding the handle a little too tight, his knuckles turning white. The way he kept darting his eyes around, looking at everyone and anyone who passed. The way he would follow people’s eyes just to see if they were staring at his Dad, a person he assumed he could never live up to even if he never said it aloud.

When you got to the wall before 9 and ¾, James shot you a nervous glance but went to steel himself. You and Harry had done a good job of explaining to him what to expect, along with his older cousins from the Weasley’s, but it was always a little nerve wracking running at a brick wall.

“C’mon,” you said gently, holding a hand out for him to take while placing the other one of the trolley to help him push.

He reluctantly took it, giving you the true sass of an eleven year old boy. But when he gripped it, he squeezed tight as you began pushing the cart quickly at the wall.

Next thing you knew, you were on the other side and facing the Hogwarts Express, just as big and red as you had remembered it. You heard James give a small laugh of relief besides you and you turned down to give him a smile.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” You asked him, taking the trolley from him to maneuver it through the groups of families easily. You knew Harry would catch up to you eventually. He had the two little ones in tow after all.

“Yeah, yeah,” James mumbled, looking around with a mix of excitement and nerves. He was overwhelmed to say the least.

You came to a stop against a wall, a spot you deemed good enough for your husband to find you, and looked down at your son. “Are you nervous?” You asked him bluntly. You had always taught him to be upfront with his emotions, bottling things up was never good.

He didn’t reply, just looked down at his shoes as he scuffed them along the ground.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” you coaxed gently, a finger coming up underneath his chin to tilt his head up. “It’s okay to be nervous. It’s your first day. No one expects you to not be nervous. I was so nervous on my first day that I almost threw up. And Dad didn’t even know what Platform 9 and ¾ was, so you’re doing much better than either of us, honestly,” you told him with a small giggle, a smile coming to his own face.

“I just- I dunno- I just don’t want people to compare me to Dad,” he said honestly, the first time he had ever admitted it out loud.

“No one with any sense will compare you to your father. He’s told you before that everything he accomplished was pure luck. You’ll have so much more than that. That’s why he did what he did. We all did. So you could just go to school, and learn, and have fun, and be a kid. That’s all anyone wants for you, baby,” you told him. He scowled at the pet name, but you could feel the nerves leaving his body. “No one wants you, or expects you, to be your Dad.”

You watched as he took a deep breath, then suddenly he was throwing himself at you. His gangly arms flung around your middle and squeezed, his head buried into your chest. “I’ll miss you a lot, Mum,” you heard him say, muffled through your clothes.

You fought to keep the tears at bay while you wrapped him in your arms. “I’ll miss you too, sweetheart. So much. You can write to me anytime you want. And if it’s a real emergency, I’m sure Uncle Nev will let you use his Floo. We won’t be far,” you told him, gently stroking his back.

You were immediately brought back to all the days you had thought you had been a bad mother. Of all the days James had spent crying inconsolably, the days James would throw tantrum after tantrum, the days James would opt for his father over you. But at the end of it all, he was a mama’s boy and never hid it, living proof of the good mother you had become.

James pulled away just as Harry arrived with Remus and Lily following closely behind him. Harry shot you a look of concern, but you brushed him off with a smile, a silent sigh of letting him know everything was fine.

“Gonna help me with all this?” Harry asked James with a boyish smile, referencing his small hoard of belongings on the trolley.

James went with Harry, leaving you with the two little ones to answer all of their questions about the big red train. You told them stories of the lady with the candy trolley and the time you had bumped into their father in sixth year where he had subsequently, and rather nervously, asked you if you wanted to come to Hogsmede with him on the first outing of the year.

As you spoke, you watched Harry and James. So identical yet so different. You watched as Harry did most of the heavy lifting, leaving James to giggle at his struggle. You watched as Harry made him laugh at Merlin knows what, but it brought a smile to your face nonetheless. And you watched as Harry slipped a blank piece of parchment out of his jacket pocket and handed it to James, leaning close to share some serious words. James looked elated and you only knew that it meant trouble. You knew exactly what that parchment was.

Harry walked back over with James, an arm slung around his son’s shoulder as James struggled to quickly hide what his father had given him in his own jacket pocket.

You said your goodbyes and you couldn’t help but grow teary-eyed. You knew it would be like this every year until Lily graduated but you couldn’t help it. Not having your children under your roof just didn’t feel right, even if you knew they would be at Hogwarts. A place you had fought to assure was the safest place they could be.

“I love you guys,” James said, throwing his arms around the both of you one last time.

“I love you too,” you and Harry said at the same time, both of you pulling him close.

You clutched Harry’s hand as you watched James step onto the train, immediately catching up with his red haired cousins. A few tears you couldn’t hold back were streaming down your face, but Harry quickly brushed them off when he looked at you, realizing you couldn’t rip your eyes away from the spot your son had disappeared into.

“Why’s Mommy crying?” You heard Lily ask, finally ripping you away from your thoughts and back down to the two children in front of you.

“She’s just gonna miss James. We all are,” Harry answered for you, scooping your daughter into his arms, never once letting go of his grip on your hand.

“I want to go to Hogwarts,” Remus pouted as the four of you left the platform, bringing a small smile to your face.

“In a few years, darling. Until then you’re all mine,” you told him, squeezing his hand gently.

“What was that all about when we walked up?” Harry asked you quietly, noticing that both of the kids were distracted by all the sights and sounds around them.

“He was nervous. Talked him down a bit. Then he told me he’d miss me,” you said with a smile, a memory you would always cherish.

“I didn’t get an ‘I’ll miss you’,” Harry replied indignantly.

“Guess I’m the favorite after all,” you said with a giggle.

“We still have two more to settle that debate with,” he argued, flashing you a quick wink.

“Sure. Also, did you give him what I think you gave him?” You said, completely switching topics to talk about what you really needed to address.

Harry blushed and gave a subtle nod of his head, not wanting to admit it out loud.

“If he gets into trouble just know you’re handling any and all letters that come from McGonagall,” you told him with a roll of you eyes.

He only laughed and gave you a shrug. “I think I can handle that. I’ve gotten out of enough trouble with McGonagall before. I was one of her favorites after all,” he said cockily, forcing you to roll your eyes again. The Chosen One aura around him never truly went away even after all these years it seemed.

“Now who wants ice cream?” He asked the little ones, causing them to cheer.

He shot you a small smirk, a small victory in becoming the kids favorite of the day, but you knew you would win that fight in the long run. You always would if James was any proof of it.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter blurb #harry potter smut #harry james potter

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blueskrugs · 4 years

Text

Tim McGraw | Brock Boeser

ahhhh! this is the first fic of the swift series! I can’t believe I am actually going to try and pull this off for the next five months. I hope you guys like it and big shoutout to @broadstbroskis for being my sounding board throughout all this fic planning and then beta-ing this!

length: 1.6k words

But when you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think my favorite song

Falling in love with Brock was easy.

It was the summer before your sophomore year of college, on the precipice of both your lives changing, though neither of you knew it at the time.

Time seemed to move slower that summer, long sunny days blending into bonfire nights out by the lake, September nothing more than a distant day on the calendar. You watched as Brock’s hair turned more blond and his shoulders turned more tan, hours outside in the sun doing their job.

You remembered the first time Brock kissed you; you weren’t sure it was something you’d ever forget. You’d spent weeks dancing around each other, learning each other, had spent an entire Fourth of July party practically glued to each other’s sides. It seemed more than inevitable by the time it finally happened.

He called you late one night, woke you up and begged you to meet him down at the lakefront. You went, because of course you did, met him down at the dock, where he was waiting with a pile of blankets in the speedboat his family used. He tossed you one of his UND hoodies with a grin before helping you onto the boat. You settled into the nest of blankets in the prow as Brock carefully steered the boat out from the dock and into the middle of the lake.

It was a clear night, the stars and the full moon shining brightly against the still, dark lake, and a quiet one. The only sounds filling the air were the quiet hum of the boat’s motor and Brock’s country playlist playing quietly from his phone, neither quite loud enough to drown out the constant buzz of the cicadas.

Brock cut the motor and came to sit behind you. You rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He was warm and solid behind you, and you were both quiet for a moment, just listening to the music.

“This is one of my favorite songs,” you murmured, as Tim McGraw’s “Humble and Kind” started filtering through the speakers.

“I know,” Brock said simply. You didn’t remember telling him that. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear, steady and calm.

You were caught up in trying to remember when you’d told Brock your favorite song when he shifted a little behind you. You twisted in his arms to see what was the matter, but then he was kissing you, softly in the moonlight, and you didn’t get the chance.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted after he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. His breath fanned across your face when he breathed out a sigh. Tim McGraw was still playing somewhere behind you.

“I would’ve let you,” you said back.

Brock breathed out a laugh and kissed you again, one hand tangled in your hair, the other still wrapped around your waist.

And I was right there beside him all summer long, And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone

For all that that summer seemed endless while it was happening, it ended abruptly, shattering the peaceful love you and Brock had been building out on the lake.

You snuck out one last time, both of you dressed in something other than a swimsuit for once, spent the night in each other’s arms with your bare feet dangling in the lake off the dock, the stars and the moon lighting your way once again.

You weren’t sure you’d ever look at the summer stars the same way when you were older.

Brock went back to UND. Your family moved away from Minnesota. Summer romances were never meant to last, you told yourself, as you left yours in the dust.

Brock promised he would keep in touch, pressed a green UND hoodie into your hands and a goodbye kiss to your lips. You smiled at him, because you knew it would never last, and it didn’t. Brock had other things to focus on, hockey and his future. It was only a matter of time until he forgot you.

You spent a lot of time wearing that hoodie he gave you in the beginning, more time than you cared to admit. You spent more time crying than you cared to admit, too. You kept wearing it long after it stopped smelling like Brock and summer, until it was almost nothing to you and the comfort of it was gone. Almost.

Brock’s texts trickled to a stop before Christmas, but you couldn’t blame him. You’d always had a feeling that this– whatever this had been– had meant more to you than it had to him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop following him, though, not even when your friends and family gave you pitying looks, not when UND got booted out of the championship tournament. “He’s just a boy,” they’d say, but they also say you never forget your first love, don’t they? You watched his first NHL game, at home in Minnesota, his first NHL goal, too. And if you cried a little, well, at least there was no else around to see it.

Years passed, and, slowly, you moved on. Brock’s sweatshirt made its way to the back of your closet. You fell in love again, fell out of love. Stopped loving Brock. You graduated college. You never did go back to the lake, wondered if Brock ever had. If he’d waited for you, or if he’d moved in and found another girl to spend the summer with. For the most part, you forgot about Brock. Forgot about his laugh, about the way he’d roll his eyes when you teased him. How he knew your favorite songs. You did your best to, at least. It was easier said than done for a long time.

But in a box beneath my bed, there’s a letter that you never read from three summers back It’s hard not to find it all a little bittersweet...

You were cleaning out your old bedroom at your parents’ house when you found it. It was a letter you’d written to Brock after that summer, when you were confused and lonely, filled with all the things that you didn’t have the courage to say to his face. It was in an envelope, addressed and stamped, but you’d never planned on sending it. In all the chaos of moving that fall, it had gotten thrown in a box and shoved under your bed to be forgotten.

You remembered every word you’d written, but you carefully pulled it out anyway. You read that letter again and again over the next few days, always pausing on the last words you wrote before you signed your name: “I love you.”

It was another several days before you pulled out a clean sheet of paper and a pen, wrote a continuation to that letter. You’d loved Brock once, yes, but you didn’t anymore, not in the same way. There were no tears left in this story. He’d always be your first love, and you’d always want the best for him. You just no longer felt your heart break every time you thought of him, and you hadn’t for a long time.

You hoped that he was happy out there in Vancouver, living his dream.

And there’s a letter left on your doorstep, And the first thing that you’ll read...

“Brock, there’s a letter for you!” his mom called through the house.

“Who sends letters anymore?” he asked, which earned him a smack with the envelope. He took it from his mom anyway. The return address was unfamiliar, out-of-state, and there was no name, but he felt like he’d seen the handwriting somewhere before. He took the envelope out on the back deck with Coolie, carefully slid his thumb under the flap and opened it.

A picture slid out from in-between two folded pieces of paper when he tugged them out. It took only a quick glance at it to tell him exactly who had sent him this letter. It was a picture of the two of you at that Fourth of July party you’d spent together all those summers ago. Brock had spent the entire day trying not to kiss you right there in front of everyone.

Brock smiled at the picture for a moment. His arms were wrapped around your shoulders, your hands reaching up to grasp his. You were both laughing at some joke long forgotten. He didn’t even remember anyone taking the picture. He carefully set it aside to turn his attention to the letter. He read in silence as the afternoon sun slowly dipped lower in the sky. Coolie was off somewhere in the grass, having found a stick to chew on.

Brock read the letter, then again. He stared at your name on the bottom of each page for a minute before carefully refolding them. He whistled once for Coolie, who came running, still carrying the stick.

“Where are you off to?” his mom asked as he made his way back into the house and grabbed his car keys.

“For a drive.”

When you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think of me

The letter was tossed in his glovebox. Brock plugged in his aux, pulled up Spotify, and scrolled all the way down to his country playlist. There was a song on there he didn’t listen to very often, could never really explain why he always skipped it, but right now he clicked on it and turned the volume up.

“Always stay humble and kind,” sang Tim McGraw as he put his car and drive and allowed himself to remember, just this once.

#cait writes things #the swift series #brock boeser #brock boeser fic #brock boeser imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

The Art of Benefits

➜ Words: 9.8k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut, FWB!AU

➜ Summary: There's only one aspect of your life that's missing: sex. But you know yourself. You catch feelings as quickly as you catch colds. But when your friend arranges a meeting with a certain Park Jimin, you'll become inclined to learn the craft of detachment, aka. the art of benefits.

➜ Warning: sex, sexual discussions, toys, sucking dick, period sex, etc.

cr.

[2nd Year Fall Semester] Life as a sophomore wasn’t shabby. Assignments, papers and midterms came and went with decent grades that you eventually forgot about. Lectures, club meetings, and studying took most of your time too. But Christmas was arriving and that meant it was sweater weather. It also meant that snow was dusting from the sky and you were watching couples cozying up and keeping each other warm from across the dining center. It was unfair really. You were cold too. In fact, most of the time you happen to be cold. And while relationships were too much of a time commitment for you to take on, you deserved a cuddle buddy just as much as the next person. Or a fuck buddy. Either works really. You’ve never been opposed to a friends with benefits relationship. The only problem is, it would never work for you. But if you somehow learnt to detach your emotions, it could be the most efficient thing yet. After all, good sex with another warm body was the only aspect in your life that you were missing. “I mean it’s possible. A lot of people start friends with benefits relationships on campus,” Wendy says as she stuffs her face with her sub sandwich and muses mid-chew, “There’s actually a lot of candidates to choose from.” You’re exasperated at her nonchalance. As if it’s as easy as going to the supermarket and picking someone up. “Who?!” You need someone who would be on the same page as you, with the same priorities, a good sex partner who wouldn’t catch feelings either. But frankly, you don’t know that many people. “Well, what about that guy from your class that you were crushing on? Didn’t you say he was super smart? Might help you on your assignments too.” “Namjoon?” You shake your head. “He’s got a girlfriend.” “Okay. What about that older guy in your board games club?” “No. Seokjin’s graduating next semester.” Wendy hums, eyes flickering around the dining hall center as she contemplates. “How about Yoongi? From what you’ve told me, he seems pretty cool.” You loll your head to one side and stab your sweet and sour chicken. “I’m not going to sleep with someone from work. That sounds like a disaster waiting.” “Jungkook?” “That’s weird. We went to the same elementary school together.” You can still remember his bowl cut hair as clear as day, and not to mention, the two of you share a group of friends. If things go downhill, it would be a complete mess. The epitome of inefficiency. Which is counterproductive to your goal. “Taehyung?” At this point, Wendy’s just listing out random people that you know, but you play along just for amusement. “Nah. Yena has a crush on him.” She takes another clean bite of her sandwich. “What about that guy that works at that McDonalds that you find cute. What’s his name? Hugo? Howard?” “Hoseok,” you correct with a feigned glare that makes her smile. “And that’s a big fat no. He doesn’t even know I exist. What am I supposed to do? Waltz up to him and ask to be fuck buddies?” She grins. “Well, I mean—” “It wouldn’t work,” you deadpan before she laughs and in turn, makes you giggle too. The chatter of the room settles in your ears as background noise. You gaze out the window to the sparkling snow piles that reflect the lampposts soft, white light. The sun has long fallen even though it’s only six p.m. The low lights peeking through the somber clouds covering the horizon does little. You dread the thought of having to venture out into the cold and catch the bus home. You don’t notice how Wendy’s looking at you while she sips on her water. Not until she hums. “You know what? I know someone I could hook you up with.” Your brow cocks and the corner of your mouth twitches. “Is he a fuckboy?” Your long time friend shrugs with a glint in her eyes that makes you unsure if she’s serious or not. Wendy once joked that she had a boyfriend from Northern Canada and convinced you hard enough that you legitimately believed her for a good month. So you can never be quite certain when it comes to her. For all you know, she could just be making it up to entertain you. “Sort of, but he’s a nice one.” Wendy stays vague. “He was my lab partner.” You stare at her and when her expression remains blank, you scoff. “Sure, sure,” you draw out the syllables with a small laugh and bat the air with your hand just to end the conversation. And when it’s never discussed again, Wendy moving on to tell you a story about something she suddenly remembers, you’d one day come to realize that was a terrible, terrible mistake. // That one day is now. 3:50pm. Wendy: hey i set up a meeting what that guy 3:50pm. Wendy: third floor library 3:50pm. Wendy: he’s in a red hat btw The text comes right when you’re leaving your last lecture of the day. 3:51pm. Y/N: what guy 3:53pm. Wendy: your future fwb 3:53pm. Y/N: ?????????????????????????????????/ 3:53pm. Y/N: ???????????????? 3:54pm. Y/N: wtf i wasn’t SERIOUS 3:54pm. Wendy: wat 3:54pm. Y/N: I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING 3:56pm. Wendy: lmao too late 3:56pm. Wendy: at least meet him he’s waiting sis 3:54pm. Y/N: can’t you cancel????????? 3:57pm. Wendy: n a h You nearly burst an artery in your temple at the emojis and memes she spams to you. 3:59pm. Wendy: I already told him the gist btw 4:00pm. Wendy: don’t chicken out With no other choice, you make a u-turn and head towards the library with too many thoughts swirling inside your brain. Chances are this stranger is going to see you, think you’re ugly as shit and try to back out of it. It’s going to be awkward as all hell and you’re not sure you’re ready to have this traumatizing memory for the rest of your life. Then again, you wonder how Wendy even convinced this dude to meet up. If he’s really that easy going. If this is a typical thing people do now. Or maybe Wendy showed a picture of you on your insta and he agreed afterwards — it wouldn’t be the first time she did that, much to your embarrassment. But you hope it’s the latter case. At least that eliminates the possibility of him trying to backpedal his way out of it after seeing your face. You also wonder how the hell you’re going to find him. The library is full of students, the rowdy ones and the studious ones being disturbed by them. You wonder what he looks like, what he’ll be like. Third floor. Male. Red hat. You arrive at the appropriate floor and begin scanning the premise, walking around as your eyes sweep the area. Almost immediately you catch a brunette hunched over and on his phone by the table. He’s wearing a red cap on backwards, purple tee shirt. He has a frat boy aesthetic. Not really the type you go for. Looking over him, you round the computers, bookshelves and tables. But finding no one else with a red hat on the third floor, you sharply inhale and approach the boy with his fluffy cheek rested in his hand, arm propped up on the table lazily. Scrolling through his phone. “Excuse me.” Your voice is light and hesitant as if you were asking help from someone at the front desk and not seeing if this was a potential fuck buddy. It’s mortifying to say the least. His head lifts, brown eyes catching the lights. You clear your throat. “Wendy…” “Oh. You’re her, right?” He smiles and thankfully, doesn’t seem to be disappointed. “Wendy’s friend?” “Yeah. I’m Y/N.” “Jimin.” Now that you get a closer look, he’s kind of cute. But you don’t dwell. Or look him in the eye. It feels like a job interview. But worse. “You were Wendy’s lab partner?” “That’s me.” He pockets his phone. “I’m a kines major. You?” “I’m in the arts faculty. Political science.” “Cool, cool.” Jimin nods and then gets to business without any shame, “So Wendy already told me about it. You’re looking to have a friends with benefits relationship?” “Yeah….about that….” “I’m down if you are.” His hand opens up, gesturing to you. You’re not sure how you feel about how laid-back he is, but he remains upfront which you suppose is the right thing to do. “I have a dorm room in the Sierra building by the engineering faculty building if you know where that is.” “I’ve walked past it before.” “Cool. Anyway, my last f.w.b. ended two months ago and I kind of miss it,” he quickly clarifies, “The sex, I mean.” You’re speechless and contemplating if you really want to do this. You know if it works out, it’ll be fairly efficient. You’ve always gotten off by yourself and while it works, it’s not something you’d call completely satisfying. Having someone’s help— good help — is a change you’ve been considering. But a friends with benefits situation has always been one of those ‘what if’ scenarios. You've just never had an opportunity like this to make it actually happen. Jimin senses your hesitance and leans forward. He lowers his volume. “Are you a virgin? Cause I’m cool with—” You scoff. “No. I’m not. I just...haven’t done something like this before.” “Friends with benefits?” His question is answered by your body language. “It’s not bad. Safer than one night stands and more consistent too. You don’t have to go out and find someone every time you want to have sex. And it’s a low level commitment.” The corner of your mouth pulls and you agree. “It’s efficient. But...I need time to think about it.” “Sure. Tell me when you make up your mind. I’ll give you my number.” He opens his hand again and you pass him your phone. He quickly types it in. “Take your time.” // And you do. You weigh the pros and cons against each other, considering every possibility and all the consequences. Part of you wants to just go for it. The same part that once decided in high school at midnight that bangs would be a hot look on you. (It wasn’t). The part of you that dyed your hair blue that one summer on a whim. The part that doesn’t want to think and wants to jump head first into things. Jimin made a lot of good pointers too and you’re certain this would be a good outlet. An experience. It helps that he’s quite attractive too and seems to be trustworthy and rational. Yet, part of you wonders if it would be a bad decision. There’s a chance that you might catch feelings. For you, it wouldn’t be unheard of either. You have a tendency to catch feelings as fast as you catch colds. And you already know that’s the demise of these kinds of relationships. Once a party gets involved too deep, it’s game over. There’s nothing but heartbreak. The only way it would work is if you minimize your interactions with him. The less attached you are, the less likely you are to develop feelings for him since the only way you would like anyone is if you knew them. So the less you know, the better the outcome. It’s an equation. It’s the art of the benefits. And if that works, if you master the art, it would solve every potential issue. The dorms for sophomores are bigger than the ones for first year freshmen. Instead of a single room with two beds on either side by the walls, there are private bedrooms with just a shared bathroom, a main living space and kitchen. “Bathrooms are over here,” Jimin gestures. There’s one room at the end of the hall and another one beside his. “Both my roommates are out, so you don’t have to worry. They’re pretty nice.” You feel awkward lingering at the entryway with your backpack on. You clear your throat. “Can I get a drink?” “Oh yeah. There’s new water bottles by the sink, I think, and there’s orange juice in the fridge if you’d like.” “No, I mean, do you have anything alcoholic?” you correct and he blinks at you owlishly before smiling. You drop your bag and find it in the fridge, a whole vodka bottle. You fill a shot up with a glass on the drying rack. The clear liquid burns as it travels to the back of your throat. The bitter taste nearly makes you gag, but you feel your face warm and you ease even more, knowing it works. In the meanwhile, Jimin studies you, standing from across the kitchen island. His hands are casually dug into the pockets of his gray sweats. “We won’t have to follow through with this, you know. I’m fine either way.” “No,” you quickly refute, irrationally afraid he’s changed his mind. And the words spill out of you as you cringe, “I’m horny as shit, I’mjustnervous.” The guy smiles, eyes slightly crinkled when he does so. “Of what?” “A lot of things.” You don’t pour a second shot even though you kind of want to. But you have things to do tomorrow, so you can’t nurse a hangover and you most certainly don’t want to be drunk while doing this. “If you didn’t notice, I don’t do this often.” While you’re at it, you tell him, “I don’t know how to suck dick.” He leans against the counter, grinning. “Okay. I don’t mind.” “Also, if you haven’t noticed either, my ass is kind of deflated.” Jimin shrugs. “I’m more of a boob man anyway.” You narrow your eyes, not sure if he’s lying or trying to make you feel better. But there’s no time to dwell when he seriously asks— “Do you still want to do this?” It takes a second for you to muster your courage. And once you do, you know you won’t back down. “All right. Let’s do this!” You walk into his room like you’re about to go fight off a monster. Behind you, Jimin grins and it takes a good moment for him to calm you down. “Are you okay with kissing?” he asks, door shut and distance closed. He’s intimately close and you nod. Finally, your brain stops overthinking and you let yourself feel. Jimin’s lips are full and plush, and they’re good against yours. The soft smacking fills his room. The two of you kiss until your lips part and he begins to lick into your mouth, tongue entering without much hesitation. You fall back onto the mattress, noticing that the bed’s been made sloppily, but better than your own. The pair of you keep kissing and he hovers over you, capturing you against the sheets. Pathetically enough, you already begin to feel your center throbbing and it’s a relief when you both get rid of your clothes. He doesn’t talk much — doesn’t give much commentary or even dirty talk. But you don’t mind. All you’re offering after all is soft sighs and quiet moans. Jimin squeezes your breasts and fingers you for a good minute. He’s surprised to see how wet you are, even letting out an ‘oh shit’, but you make no efforts to come up with an excuse. The stretch feels good from his thick fingers, but you bet it’ll feel good around his girthy cock too. He goes to grab a condom from his drawer, but pauses. “Do...you want me to eat you out?” “I’m good,” you politely decline, afraid it might be too intimate. You’re not sure where the lines are drawn, but it’s something you’ll have to gauge while you go. “Do you want me to suck your dick? You might have to teach me though.” The corner of his mouth tugs. “I’m good too.” As Jimin rips open the condom package, you turn yourself around and get onto all fours. He doesn’t protest and when he enters you, it feels good enough for you to fall forward into the pillows. His cock is of average size, but he’s girthy and your cunt stretches to accommodate him. He groans in his throat when you clench — and the sound gets you off, making you squeeze again. Jimin pounds into you, his pelvis hitting the meat of your ass, cock drawing in and out against your tight, warm walls. You do your best to meet his thrusts halfway, jerking your hips back and you stifle your moans with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. The sloppy sounds of slapping and the creaking of his bed makes you glad his roommates are gone. And while the sex is not mind-blowing per se, it’s still good. Enough that you climax once he rubs your clit several times and he unloads into the condom too. It’s easier than you thought it would be. Not a big deal whatsoever. It took ten minutes in total and it felt good. It’s just sex — and that’s exactly it. Just sex. The very lesson of the art of benefits. You pick up your clothes off the floor, slipping them back on. “I gotta get going.” There’s no snuggling, no cuddling, no pillow talks. And it doesn’t seem like he minds whatsoever. “‘Kay.” Jimin picks up his phone off his bedside table to check his texts and waves goodbye without even looking at you. You leave, walking yourself out and humming as you stride down the hall. You’re glad you went through with it.

[2nd Year Winter Semester] You run there with your sandwich stuffed in your cheek. By the time Jimin opens the door, you’re still chewing while panting. It’s a comical sight by the way he smiles at you. You’re already winded before anything’s started. “I hadn’t eaten yet and I needed to get my blood sugar up.” Jimin’s lips are quirked. “We can always eat beforehand, you know. There’s food in the fridge.” “Nah, I’m good.” Having meals with your friends with benefits is the last thing on your mind. He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” You use his bathroom, releasing your bladder and rinsing your mouth thoroughly. You know yourself and you’re not a novice on how these relationships work. The less interaction and knowledge you have about him, the more you can keep your distance. “G-God,” he exhales shakingly, hand fisted in your hair. “You’re getting b-better at this….” Jimin watches through heavy lids as you’re slobbering over his cock. He tries his best to watch, but when you run your tongue over the weeping slit at the bulborous head, his eyes shut and his head naturally knocks back. You’ve gotten better at a lot of things in the few months that have passed, namely sucking dick, but your jaw aches and you wonder when he’s going to cum. It’s worth it though. You might be the one kneeling in front of him, but you feel powerful. It’s too easy to make him crumble. To make him moan like that. It makes you wet to hear him and knowing you could bite off his dick or make him lose a load, the sheer power eggs you on. Like you were taught, you inhale, ease your muscles and take Jimin as far as you can. He chokes as his cock hits the back of your throat. Your gag reflexes threaten your endeavour but you keep them at bay and Jimin’s hand in your hair tightens. Especially when you swallow. “Fuck. I-I’m going to cum.” Thank god. Finally! Usually, you let off so he can cum elsewhere (god forbid in your hair) or if he accidentally does it in your mouth, you spit it out on tissue. But this time, you made a commitment to yourself. You came here with a goal. So you inhale again and deep throat him, sucking as much as you can. With his curly pubic hair grazing your nose, Jimin cums. His groans staccato. His cock twitches. And you swallow the bitter, white fluid that comes out in ribbons. After a few seconds, you finally withdraw. Jimin opens his eyes, staring at you in wonderment. There are strands of saliva from between his softened cock to your lips and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Not gonna lie.” You clear your throat and swallow down the remaining taste. “That’s really nasty.” Jimin bursts out laughing. “Thanks.” “It’s the least I can do.” You stand up, shaking your left leg awake. It feels like pins and needles when you step around. “I’ve sat on your face like twice already.” You toss Jimin his pants off the ground and you get your cardigan back on. “You wanna come over on Friday?” “Uh…” You grab your phone from your jacket that’s also been discarded and check your calendar. “Sorry. Can’t. I’m busy on that day.” His brows raise, but he doesn’t question it. “How about Saturday?” you offer. “No. I have a kines exam scheduled.” Your face twists in disgust. “On a Saturday?” “Yep. I know. It sucks.” You sympathize, but you’re also surprised. “I didn’t know you were a kines major.” “What? I thought I told you.” “Guess I forgot.” You put yourself back together and a thought strikes you. Your eyes light up and you turn to your friend with glittering eyes. “Does that mean you can crack bones? I’ve always wanted to go to a chiropractor since my lower back always hurts. You should crack it for me.” Jimin grins. “Sorry, I don’t know how to do that. They don’t really teach you that kind of stuff.” “Oh.” Your eyes dim and you don’t try to hide your disappointment. You almost thought you could get a little more out of him, but you suppose decent sex is enough. As you grab your bag, you notice that his phone lights up. “You got a text from Victoria.” “Thanks.” He reaches over, but the curious expression on your face must be visible, since he says, “Don’t worry. She’s not my girlfriend or anything. She’s just someone I’m kind of into.” “Nice!” The corner of Jimin’s mouth quirks at your genuinely excited response even though he never looks away from the screen. You’re psyched though. If he has an interest in someone else, there’s less chance for anyone to catch feelings. Fewer connections. More distance. “If you ever want to end this, just let me know.” You throw your backpack on that’s heavy with your laptop and textbooks inside. “Yeah.” “I’m going now.” “Bye.” Jimin’s fingers fly across the screen to text the other girl back and neither of you spare each other a glance. The door shuts moments later and the noise echoes through the walls.

[3rd Year Fall Semester] In spite of being a junior now, things have relatively remained the same. According to course outlines, lectures are more in-depth in their content, but there’s still assignments, papers, and midterms. The grading schemes haven’t changed and you know there’s a shit ton of work waiting for you in the coming months. But you find pleasure wherever you can. The door opens, but it’s not Jimin on the other side. “Hey, Y/N.” Taemin, his roommate, is eating chips. “He’s in his room.” “Thanks.” You shuffle inside and after briefly greeting Jongin, the other roommate, who’s busy playing Animal Crossing on the living room couch, you beeline to his room. You find Jimin hunched over his messy desk, rounded spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he’s tapping furiously across his laptop keyboard. He glances at you. “Sorry. I need a second.” “Take your time.” You set down your bag and shed your coat, tossing it aside. You’re not sure what he’s doing, but you don’t ask. Instead, you pull out your phone and run through your usual apps. With no messages to answer or anything to scroll through, you check your email and find the words ‘emergency’ in one of the subject lines. After a minute, Jimin saves his document and closes the lid of his laptop. He stretches above his head with a groan and turns around, only to find you now hunched over your own device. “Sorry,” you mutter once you feel his gaze on you. “My manager needs me to fill out my timesheet and send it to her.” “I didn’t know you worked.” “Just part-time at the admissions office here on campus.” You go quiet as you skim over your email again to ensure it makes sense. “It’s a pretty easy gig.” He hums and you finish, shutting your laptop and sticking it back into your bag. That’s when you finally get a good look at the boy across the room — dark hair, blue shirt and gray sweats — and you notice how tan he’s gotten. It’s a good look. Your mouth tugs. “Did you travel over the summer?” “I went to the Caribbean with my family for like two weeks.” “Fancy.” “It was alright.” He gets up and re-stacks the textbooks on his desk into a single pile. Jimin notices the stack of flyers he was supposed to distribute. “Oh yeah. Do you want to join the crayon club?” Your brow lifts. “The crayon club?” “Yeah, you can come colour every Wednesday night and just hang out with people.” Jimin grins boyishly. “My friend wanted to make a club and he made me the communications executive. I’m supposed to get people to join. You don’t have to, but the first meet and greet is this Friday, and the more people the better. There’s gonna be free food by the way, if that helps.” You’re not sure that's a good idea. The two of you have never really met up outside of his dormitory, aside from the first time you met at the library. “Let me check my calendar.” You grab your phone again and thoughtlessly mumble, “Sometimes I’m busy on Friday. I’m part of the board games club and we meet up every other week…..don’t judge.” “I’m not.” Still, Jimin's smile widens and you feign a pout. You’re free this week. “I’ll come if you make me an executive too,” you quip carelessly while tossing your phone aside. “It’ll look good on my law application.” Jimin quirks his head. He didn’t know you were aiming for law school. “Okay.” “Wait.” You’re taken off guard, eyes as wide as saucers. “Seriously?!” He with a small laugh. Jimin gets up and closes the distance, making you lean against the headboard until he’s completely hovering over you, mere inches away. “We actually need a position filled anyway, so you just saved me some trouble.” “You better keep your promise, Park.” You end up showing with Wendy and Tiffany in tow — the former who wants to raid whatever food there is and the latter genuinely interested in colouring as a means of relaxation. It’s a bit awkward to meet so many new people at once and Jimin’s friends at that, but you can tell they’re nice at heart. Albeit, a bit rambunctious and too friendly. And you’re a bit horrified when one of them tries to eat a crayon to further advertise the club. “So, what’s up with you and Jimin?” Tiffany asks, peering up at you as she colours in the lines carefully. She’s unaware of your arrangement with the boy. It’s not something you’ve told many. You feign ignorance, not wanting to get into the details with strangers around. “What do you mean?” “Are you dating him?” You scoff. “I wish.” Immediately, Wendy’s brows raise to her hairline and the words that fumbled out of you thoughtlessly finally sink in. “I mean, no, we’re not. Not I wish.” Luckily, Tiffany spares you and doesn’t pry. But you’re mortified and you glance at Jimin from across the room laughing noisily with his friend. You turn away from him, trying to create more distance.

[3rd Year Winter Semester] With exam season here, you and Jimin hadn’t seen each other in a while. Luckily, Spring break was approaching, so you at least had something to look forward to. The idea of being able to lay in bed and sleep in automatically puts you in a good mood. Jimin, however, seems less than stoked. You watch from the bed as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up before you’ve gotten a chance to. He was frowning when he opened the door, greeted you with one word and in general, has been quieter than usual. “Is….everything alright?” You wonder if you did something to piss him off, but then he says— “I flunked my final.” Oh. That explains his bad mood. “The one you took this morning?” you ask. “Yeah.” Jimin deflates with an extended sigh. “I didn’t get the first twenty questions and then I fucking ran out of time….” There’s a pause that lingers. “Well, you’re not sure if you actually failed, right?” You lean closer to him, quirking your head to the side. “The marks haven’t been released and who knows, the prof might curve it.” “Maybe. I don’t know.” Jimin scrubs a hand over his face, uncertain and stressed. “This ruins everything. I’m trying to get an internship at a clinical rehabilitation facility and I want to apply for a masters and now...fuck.” You’re surprised. You didn’t know he had so many goals. “I’m screwed.” Jimin flops back onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling. You loom over him, blocking his view. “Does the internship look at your GPA?” “They want a three point o average or more.” “What do you have now?” “Three point five.” The corner of your mouth pulls and a rush of air leaves your nose in a snort. “Then you’ll make it! Even if you failed one exam, it wouldn’t tank past a three. It can’t be too bad, right?” “Yeah, I guess.” Jimin sighs and absentmindedly tugs on your strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face and is grazing against his cheek. “I just don’t know anymore.” “It’s going to be fine,” you reassure, slapping your hand on his shoulder. “You’re just overthinking it.” “Maybe,” he hums. A sudden thought comes across your mind and your small smile turns devious. “Let me make you feel better.” You shift to straddle his hips and instantly, his hands lift to your waist. Jimin starts to grin as you pull at his shirt, trying to get him to strip. And you do your best to pleasure him. It doesn’t take much effort considering Jimin’s hand is already tightening in your hair the minute you run your tongue along his shaft. But he doesn’t let you suck him for too long, eager to feel you inside instead and pleasure you just the same. It’s eager and messy sex. You’re on top until your thighs begin to burn and you lose your pace. Then he re-repositions the both of you, so you’re flat on your back and he’s doing most of the work. You end up cumming twice. Once around his covered cock and the other time after he coaxes you around his stiff tongue and eggs you on, even when you’re sobbing from the overstimulation. It feels good. Better than good. Over time, the pair of you have gotten to know each other’s bodies better, what works and what doesn’t. Your relationship with Jimin is an investment that feels worth it. “Hey…” You’re both facing away from each other as you put your clothes back on. Jimin turns his head and you cast him a glance. “I was thinking of maybe starting birth control…” He blinks. “If you go get yourself checked out and make sure you’re clean, we can do it without condoms.” You pull down your sweater over your head and you both stare at each other. He looks surprised and responds in a delayed manner, “Okay. Cool. I’m down. I’ll get myself checked out this weekend. I haven’t really slept with anyone else since this started though.” It’s your turn to be caught off guard. “Really? What...about that girl you were into? Vicky?” “You mean Victoria?” He jumps as he puts on his sweatpants, getting both legs through at once. “Nah. It didn’t end up working out.” “Oh.” He’s entirely nonchalant about it, so you merely nod. Jimin walks you to the door and you notice that he’s in a better mood than earlier. You hide your smile to yourself, glad that it was mutually beneficial. Two weeks later, he gets an email before the two of you get down and dirty, and you’re the first one in his life to know that he got the summer internship. His excitement is infectious and you genuinely feel happy for him.

[4th Year Fall Semester] It’s so close, you can taste it. A whole new semester and cart of overpriced textbooks later meant you were a senior now. It also meant that there was just this year left and you were out of here. Finished at least one degree. A step closer to making the big bucks and being a whole ass adult. The idea is both exhilarating and frightening. 2:20pm. Jimin: Wanna come over? The text mocks you, but the temptation is tangible. Like a carrot tied at the end of a stick that’s attached to a hungry rabbit. You’ve been sexually frustrated since last night, feeling it in your loins since morning, and fidgeting and rubbing your thighs underneath tables and desks. The thought of getting that sweet relief properly is enough for you to want to ditch class altogether, but you can’t. Not for the next few days. 2:22pm. Y/N: can’t. 2:22pm. Y/N: I’m on my period :(( 2:23pm. Jimin: I don’t mind 2:23pm. Y/N: really???? 2:24pm. Y/N: are you sure 2:25pm. Jimin: lmao 2:25pm. Jimin: yes You brace through the rest of the lecture, paying more attention as the anticipation swells. And when it’s all over, you race across campus to the dormitory building you’ve become familiar with. Jimin opens the door before you need to knock and he plants a chaste kiss against your lips in greeting. You’re taken off guard, but don’t pay too much attention to it. “How was class?” “Good. You?” “Same,” he hums. You drop your bag in his room and gesture below your waist. “I’m going to need to wash up. The nether regions are a bit…” He smiles. “Sure. I got spare towels I can set down too.” You self-consciously linger for a moment as he goes to his closet to the upper shelf. The towels are luckily green and not white. “I’m surprised you’re okay with it. Having period sex, I mean.” “Why wouldn’t I be?” Jimin pushes his blanket aside and puts a towel down. “As long as you’re fine with it, then I am too.” “I don’t know. Doesn’t blood gross you out?” “Not really? Most of the time I’m the one making the mess, so it’s actually nice to have someone else make the mess for once. Plus sex is sex. What’s there to complain about?” His brow lifts and he looks at you. You scoff and it makes Jimin grin. You wash yourself up and he fucks you in missionary position on top of the towels. The pair of you have only done so a few times before. Typically, you’re face down, bent over, on all fours or looking away from each other. But the change is welcome. Jimin hovers over you and you can kiss him when you want to. “F-Fuck.” A pitched moan unintentionally spills from you when he hits a spot at your walls that has your toes curling. “Ji...min.” It’s more lubricated than usual, making the strokes easier. He goes softer too. Deeper. Jimin presses your thighs to your chest and makes you feel him all the way to your throat. The boy smiles tenderly at your reaction in spite of panting himself. “Feel good, baby?” “Y-Yeah.” You nod, eyes shut tight. You grip his forearms when he bottoms out again. “Always does.” Your warm walls pulse around his thick cock and you end up cumming soon after. He groans into your neck at how you tighten around him like a vice grip and he thrusts into you one more time before his cum fills you. The pair of you jump in the shower together to get cleaned up and then you’re picking up your clothes while he tosses the towels in the laundry. “What were you working on, on Thursday?” You blink, realizing that you texted him vaguely about being swamped and unable to come over, and that’s enough for you to unload and go on a tangent. “God, don’t remind me. It was my fucking thesis. I barely managed to finish it but I don’t even know if it makes sense and now I have to edit like fifty pages by myself before giving it to my supervisor, so that’s fun.” It feels good to let it off your chest. Jimin smiles subtly at your venting. “I could always edit it for you.” “What? Seriously?” “Sure.” He shrugs. “I’m not in poly sci, but that might make me a bit more unbiased. I’m not doing much these days either.” “Oh my god.” There’s an overpowering urge to bow at his feet or suck his dick until you’re gagging or do both. “You’re a life-saver!” Jimin laughs and it’s the sound of angels singing. “Just send it over. I can get it done by tomorrow. You have my email, right?” “Of course I do. Duh!” Your grin is big enough that your cheeks hurt and he has one that matches it as well. // A few weeks fly by and things calm down enough that you can finally breathe. But that’s when you receive a little text from a certain someone that has you skeptical if you can rest easy. 6:48pm. Jimin: I have a surprise for you 6:48pm. Jimin: I forgot about it You’re not sure what it is, but asking would be like pulling teeth with him. Jimin hates spoilers and he likes surprises all too much. Lately, you’ve both been getting into some freaky shit. Buying toys, blindfolds, handcuffs. As adventurous as college kids with a limited budget can get. It was rather fun for the pair of you, and expectedly, some experiments work out better than others. It sends goosebumps all over your skin every time he talks dirty. You like it when Jimin spanks you too. Although, you’re still unsure about the whole candle wax on your body idea. But there’s one thing for sure — Jimin can most definitely not role play for his life. The whole school girl fantasy lasted a good five minutes before he started bursting into giggles and breaking character every other second. Playing doctor only made you realize how ticklish he was too. And the tickle fight that followed was definitely not something one would call ‘sexy’. Even if it did lead to the deed being done. “Hey.” Jimin greets you with a grin and a chaste peck against your lips. “How was studying?” “Fine.” You brush off the question quickly, too curious of what he has in store. “Jimin, I’m not going to use that twelve inch dildo unless you want to drive me to the ER.” He bursts out laughing. “That’s not it. Good try though.” Instead of going to his room like you usually do, Jimin leads you past the kitchen area to the table. It’s been cleared off and you give an inquisitive expression. He grins and then gestures to it. “Lay down.” “What?” “Just lay down.” He takes your hand, guiding you on it and you obey wordlessly. It doesn’t seem like any of his roommates are home and you hope they don’t come back any time soon lest they find you lying face down on their dinner table. You feel Jimin round the table and pull your ankles together. You tilt yourself up to peek at him, but then he barks— “Down.” With a pout, you return to your position, arms folded underneath your head. You hope he isn’t about to rub spices on you and roast you in his oven like it feels like he’s doing. You feel the gentle pressure of Jimin’s hands against your spine, his thumbs pressing into your skin and he hums, “Relax. Okay. Breathe in for me.” An inhale is taken and his hands suddenly press into the middle of your back. You hear your bones crack loudly. It catches you off guard and you turn yourself with wide eyes. “You know how to do it?!” He boyishly grins. “I might’ve learnt a thing or two during my internship.” “Keep going, keep going.” You flip yourself over again, gesturing to your back and he laughs, going down your body and cracking your bones. You become butter in his fingertips, lower back feeling better already. “Lift your leg for me.” You follow his instructions to a t. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you ask sleepily, lulled by his care. If he massaged you too, you might just cream your pants. “I got this, I got this,” he reassures with a bit of arrogance. “I’m not a professional, but I know what I’m doing. You trust me, right?” A noise is made at the back of your throat. “If you break a bone on accident, I’ll sue you,” you mumble as he turns you over. “God, feels good.” After a while, Jimin gets you to sit up and continues. He looks nice when he’s concentrating. Expression blank. Lips plump and in a line. Brows only slightly furrowed. “Considering you don’t have any ailments, you don’t need to get your bones cracked often. You should stretch and do some exercise instead.” You scoff. “Having sex with you is enough exercise.” To prove your point, you latch onto his arm and tug him towards you. Jimin smiles and the two of you break a sweat against each other on the table before either of his roommates come home.

[4th Year Winter Semester] It was an invitation that you would’ve called yourself crazy for offering a year ago. But if it wasn’t for him editing your thesis and taking a load off your mind, you would’ve had a harder time. You had him to thank for that. “So?” Jimin’s seated across from you at the restaurant booth. It wasn’t surprisingly difficult to ask him to grab a bite with you. For some reason, you thought he would reject. “What’s the big news?” Instead of answering, you reach into your bag and slide the envelope across the table. He’s curious and takes it, pulling out the letter to read. You sip on your water, watching his expression intently. He mutters the words and it takes him through the first paragraph before he realizes. Then, at once, Jimin’s eyes widen. His mouth drops and he looks at you proudly. “You got into law school?” “Three of them,” you tell with a cheesy grin. “T-That’s….fucking amazing. Holy fuck.” He reaches over and hugs you. It’s awkward considering there’s a whole table in the way, but you appreciate the sentiment. You’re giddy and giggling at how excited he is. It makes you feel like the first time you opened the letter yourself. Jimin presses a kiss against your hair before withdrawing. “When did you find out?” “Two days ago. I really thought I wasn’t going to get in since I got rejection letters last week from the other schools, but then three of them came in rapid succession.” He shakes his head, still in awe. “Congratulations. Seriously. You deserve it, Y/N. God knows how hard you worked.” “Thanks.” You smile to yourself, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. “I was thinking of maybe leaving the city to a different uni, but….I’m going to stay with my parents for as long as I can to save up on loans.” “Yeah, sounds good.” He nods. “Moving out can be expensive.” “What about you? Have you applied to your masters program yet?” Jimin laughs. “Actually, I was planning on telling you that today too. I didn’t bring any fancy letter with me though.” You lean closer, sitting on the edge of your seat. “You got in?” “I did. Yesterday.” His enormous smile causes your own to expand. “I’m gonna do it part-time while working at the same facility I did my internship at.” You’re happy for him and you can tell by his expression that he’s genuinely excited for you too. The pair of you were taking steps forward for your future and while it was a little scary, for now, you enjoy the victory and pig out at the restaurant with little restraints. At the end of the night, you’re both wine drunk when you stumble back to his dorm room and soon, you’re trying to muffle your whimpers with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. It doesn’t help when he presses the humming vibrator to your clit harder. “J-Jimin,” you sob, fingers twisting into his sheets. You’re slumped against the headboard as he surrounds you. “Louder,” he commands, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. The cold air of his bedroom made your nipples hardened, yet you feel hot all over, under his gaze and ruthlessness. Your hand curls around his wrist. “Your roommates are sleep—” You cry and keen against his chest when he plunges the toy into your swollen cunt that’s leaking down your ass and thighs. “It’s okay,” he murmurs in a low voice against your ear, “Let it go.” You feel the toy nudge against your cervix, the vibrations trembling through your body and you orgasm hard with your forehead pressed against Jimin’s shoulder. Even then, he continues to draw it in and out of you, studying how you’ve creamed around the vibrator, how your slick is dripping to his sheets that are already stained with the scent of your shampoo. “J-Jimin,” you whine loudly, not knowing if you’re trying to lean away from his touch or closer. “T-...too m-much!” “You can take it,” Jimin softly coaxes and you nod. You cum again after a minute and he immediately kisses you with a big smile before peppering pecks down to your neck. It makes you feel ticklish and winded. “Hey...Jimin…” “Hmm?” “Are we still gonna do this after we graduate?” you ask in a quiet voice, laying back in the ruined sheets. “I’m gonna be busy and you are too.” “We’ll figure it out.” He flops beside you and you both face each other. Jimin’s arm is draped over your waist and you stare at one another for a moment before he closes the distance. Jimin nudges you for a languid kiss, your noses brushing as his soft, plush lips press against yours. It’s unhurried. Slow. He urges your mouth to part for him and his tongue slips in as you whimper, giving you a chance to properly taste him. Sloppy, wet noises fill the room while heat rises to your cheeks. But you’re unbothered while swapping spit with Park Jimin. It’s lazy, yet it feels good. So much so that you’ve relaxed entirely. In the back of your mind, you know you should get up and put some clothes on. Any cuddling or post-sex touching has largely been unprecedented before this and it’s not good to make habits you’ll have to eventually break. You should get your sweater off the floor, or at least slip on his purple t-shirt…. But you give into the temptation and shut your eyes for one second. One mere second. That’s enough for you to doze off. When Jimin realizes you’ve accidentally fallen asleep, he smiles to himself and tugs the blankets up to your shoulders, securing you in warmly. // You stifle another yawn with your hand. It’s 9:30 in the goddamn morning and way too early for you. There’s a reason you pick afternoon classes, go to work afterwards and then go see Jimin to end your day off. There’s no situation good enough that warrants your alarm blaring before eight — but you suppose a graduation ceremony could be an exception. “There’s so many people,” your dad gasps in wonderment, looking around the vast hall. “Do you know them all?” “No.” You hold in your sigh. “I don’t.” For the past twenty minutes, you’ve been running around looking for your parents after they’ve wandered off and gotten lost. If they weren’t spamming their cameras on their phone and telling you to smile in front of the odd statue or the meaningless bulletin board that wasn’t even part of your faculty, it was calling your name as loud as they could to find you in the crowds. You’re happy over their enthusiasm but also burdened. It’s a lot of mixed feelings. “Y/N?” Dark hair and brown eyes — a certain someone who you weren’t expecting to run into is staring right at you with a boyish smile. “Jimin?” He looks good, a suit underneath and a black graduation gown over it that falls to his calf. His gown has a golden hood and tassel while yours is white — the colours symbolizing your different faculties and areas of study. “Hey.” His gaze is warm. “You look nice.” “Thanks. You too.” You don’t linger on him for long, not when his parents are right by his side. You divert your vision and greet them politely. Jimin surprisingly looks a lot like his dad and his mom has a kind face. They seem like sweet people and you’re suddenly breaking into a sweat. “Nice to meet you.” Your own parents make themselves known and you feel like your worlds are colliding as they shake hands and exchange names, congratulating each other on their child’s graduation. You’re about to get them moving along when your mom nudges you. “Is this your boyfriend?” Her voice is way too loud and you feel yourself burn in embarrassment. “No. He’s just a friend,” you whisper it sharply but much your dismay, they look unconvinced. You miss the way Jimin smiles to himself. “We should get a picture!” his dad declares and your own dad looks even more elated at the idea of spamming more pictures. You already had to delete a hundred blurry ones, but your mom ignores your groan and pushes you both towards some weird artwork on the wall. “Stand over here! Over here! Smile!” Your parents end up sitting next to each other on the rows and you have no words, forced to sit at the bottom with the rest of your graduating class. It’s a wonder that the Arts Faculty was scheduled right before the Faculty of Kines. Fate or coincidence, you’re not sure yet. But it’s still nice to see Jimin walk the stage and be able to cheer for him. “Congratulations, Mr. Park.” He grins. “Congratulations to you too, Miss L/N.” It’s certain that the numerous celebrations with family, friends and relatives will be chaotic, so you take advantage of the opportunity while you still can. You steal just a little moment for your selfish desires by standing outside before you’re both bombarded by your circle of people. “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you.” “Oh, stop it with the sappiness.” You can’t feign a roll of your eyes when your smile is so big. He swings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close and laughing. “Why? Don’t like it?” And the little shit slyly leans in to whisper, “You like it when I call you my baby though.” “Jimin!” He laughs and you sigh with a smile. You’re glad you ran into him.

[Post-Graduation] You open the door, welcoming yourself in. “Hey.” Jimin’s on the couch and glances at you, unfazed at how you’ve waltzed right into his apartment with little warning. You’ve always knocked out of courtesy for his roommates, but ever since he moved out of the dormitories, you find little need to make him walk all the way to the door. He’s watching a thriller and you flop down on his couch, leaning over to plant a quick peck against his mouth as a greeting. “How was work?” “It was okay. A bit busy. I met this nice old lady and we chatted for a bit. She called me handsome, so there’s that.” He grins and you scoff lightly, leaning your cheek on his shoulder as you watch the main character venture into an abandoned house on screen. Jimin loves his praises, so you’re not wholly surprised he’s kept a mental note of it. You’re not sure why it’s important though. Anyone with eyes would agree he’s good-looking. “How was class?” “Awful,” you mumble, feeling tired against him. You came over to get rid of some sexual frustration, but you’re not even sure you have the energy to do anything anymore. “Commuting was brutal this morning. Traffic was backed up on the highway and I was late, and yesterday I had to drive back at night. My parents are driving me nuts too. I can’t study properly.” Jimin hums a soothing note and slings an arm at the back of the couch where you’re sitting, letting you lean into him. It goes quiet as the two of you watch the suspenseful scene and then he absentmindedly pipes up after a minute, “You could always move in with me.” He continues, “It’s closer to the university and it’s quiet during the day, so you can study. We could always study together too.” It’s a good idea, but— “I can’t afford that.” “I don’t mind paying rent for a while. It’s the same either way.” It takes a second for the words sink in and then you’re peeling yourself off of him. Your gaze is met with Jimin’s, eyes locking into one another and the movie is left in the background. “As roommates?” He shrugs. “There’s only one bedroom, but sure.” A studio apartment. One bed shared. Two people. Watching movies. Having sex. Eating together. It doesn’t sound bad to you whatsoever, but you contemplate it. It swirls around inside your head and you murmur, “Isn’t that breaking the rules of being friends with benefits?” And you don't know why but Wendy’s words from the other day are echoing inside the caverns of your brain at the worst moment. “You know, your relationship with Jimin isn’t exactly normal.” You weren’t sure what she meant and you still don’t know. Not when she had advertised and encouraged this kind of arrangement all those years ago. When she had told you many people got involved in each other like this. But you’re starting to wonder if something is off. Did you do something wrong? Did your relationship with Jimin spiral out of control? But everything feels normal. After three years, you’d think you would’ve mastered the art of benefits by now. You sigh, getting a headache. Yet, Jimin merely shrugs. As if the definitions and boundaries don’t bother him whatsoever. “Is it?” “Kind of. I mean, living together, being mutually exclusive. It almost sounds like….” “Like what?” His brows lift. “Like we’re dating?” You feel hot in your face, skin toasted like a furnace. Maybe you’re being delusional or silly. Maybe he’s going to laugh at you. “This is what couples who are going to get engaged do.” “Maybe we should date then…?” The pitch of Jimin’s voice raises at the end, not necessarily a question but neither a statement. It’s questionable like he’s unsure how you feel. Like he’s playing a guessing game. And then he smiles at your shocked expression. Jimin turns to face you fully. His gaze is heavy, earnest. “Maybe we should date.” This time, it’s repeated as an assertion. Confident. Unwavering. Sincere. Jimin leans in to kiss you as if he can’t resist anymore. It’s tender, taking you off guard and you lean into him, finally allowing yourself to become surrounded by him. Mind. Body. And soul. When the two of you pull away, he smiles while catching his breath. “I-I’m down if you are. This apartment can be yours and you can study here and sleep here and whatever. We can eat together and I’ll buy you take out or cook. It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’m cool with anything. We can keep being friends with benefits, if that’s what you want….so…......what do you want?” You exhale lightly, feeling warm. “This...is a lot.” “Is it?” Instantly, Jimin appears panicked and you hold back a laugh. “We’ve technically been together for three years and...what we’ve been doing recently is basically dating. In my opinion.” “Did Wendy put you up to this?” “No.” He shakes his head. “Frankly, the person I talk to most these days is you. And I like it that way.” God, you hate him. You pull Jimin in for another kiss, an aggressive and eager one. Enough that you can feel the heat off of his own face. You move to straddle his thighs and when you break apart, you muster a glare at him. “You know, I’ve been trying so hard not to catch feelings. You’re ruining all my efforts, you know that, Park?” He grins. “Is this a yes?” “It is.” This time, he’s the one to kiss you, sealing your lips together as he smiles against your mouth and squeezes giggles out of you. Even if he doesn’t say it, even if he’s saving it for another day, you know from his tender touches that he loves you. And it’s mutual. No longer do you need to worry — leave right after the deed is done or be panicked when you’ve accidentally fallen asleep in his bed. You’re unashamed when he kisses you harder as a greeting, when he holds your hand, when you go out together. You can have pillow talks without needing to guard yourself, cuddle him, call him yours. And when Christmas arrives, meaning sweater weather and snow dusting from the sky, you have someone to keep you warm. Someone who you can come back to and call your home.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #jimin smut #bts scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #lol I can finally use the smut tag #I know this ain't sfw y'all but I really wasn't kidding when I said I was experimenting a bit more with smut #with that being said I actually really like this fic #IT'S FLUFF AND SOFT AF #I LOVE ME SOME CUTE CHIM DON'T FIGHT ME

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Co-written with @southerngracela

Part 1

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but not enough to prevent cold

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room. The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone. With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. “Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat “Window. It’s a window.”

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize” you bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Aalongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath.

And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

And now she was all his.

*****

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand.

His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

And you knew then, you were in for it.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you Princess? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

He could make out 3 vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** WIYPT Tag List:

Everything

@momobaby227 @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @nerdofthefandoms @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @what-just-happened-bro @jennmurawski13 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jtargaryen18 @redhairedfeistynerd @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @jhayes6984 @anika-ann @icanfeelastormbrewing @gigglegirl77 @princess-evans-addict @mes-2016 @theladybiers @void-hoechlin

Ransom Drysdale

@patzammit @icandothisallday @capsiclewinter @this-is-serenaa @alexakeyloveloki @perplexed3001 @twittytelly @kelbabyblue @maan24

If your name appears above but the tag isn’t live please let me know.

#halloween challenge #j's haunted house 2020 #jshauntedhouse2020 #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #murder he wrote #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out #knives out fanfic

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Omega Mine

TITLE: Omega Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 1/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Loosely based on: Imagine Loki discovers the Avengers have an omega who has healing powers living with them. He’s an Alpha and he wants her, badly.

RATING: M (eventually )

NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

“Nope, nope, fuck no. Why do all these companies suck?” You grumbled to yourself as you scrolled through job posting after job posting on your laptop. You were sitting on your bed absently eating a slice of pizza in your pajamas while you searched. You were hunting through the job listings looking for a company in search of an Omega.

That wasn’t at all atypical. Businesses that employed a lot of Alphas needed Omegas on staff to help keep the balance and the peace. Betas could only do so much against volatile Alpha tempers.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your current job, but it just wasn’t the right fit. You’d worked at a few different companies since you’d graduated from college. The companies were all glad to have you around, but none of them had felt like the right fit. That was also typical. It took a few tries to find Alphas who really fit and felt like safety and home. It took longer to find such Alphas in an environment where you could use your degree or your magic, or something that made you more than just a typical Omega.

It could take forever or absolutely no time at all to find the Alpha. The one who was your mate and meant to be your love.

You hadn’t had any luck finding your Alpha yet, just as you hadn’t found the right company to work for. You’d temped a couple places as an admin, even though it wasn’t anything to do with your degree. You were now working again as an assistant and getting pretty tired of all omega jobs only being assistants or menial labor. There was nothing of substance. That made sense. Usually, Omegas couldn’t hold higher level positions. Alphas ruled and Omegas were cared for, by nature and by nurture. On the other hand, Omegas were the balance for an Alpha’s temper. They cared for the heart of the people, while the Alphas cared for the physical safety.

Any of the castes could marry any of the others and Omegas finally had some rights in the US, but the world was still highly unfair toward your caste. Omegas couldn’t own a house, for instance, or rent an apartment in your name. You could earn money and have a bank account of your own, thanks to the laws that had passed, but a lot of the world was still stuck in the old ways of thinking Omegas nothing more than pets. Or glorified sex slaves. Thankfully, things were changing slowly, but surely.

You lived in an Omega-house with other unclaimed Omega girls and walked every day to the office nearby where you worked. There was a Beta who acted as house mother as it was determined that Omegas couldn’t be trusted to care for themselves, so you weren’t allowed to live on your own. Despite that you were a college grad with a job.

It was either the Omega-house or still living with your Father. And that wasn’t an option. Not after you’d finally escaped to go to college at one of the universities that had accepted Omega students.

There was a knock on your door. You weren’t expecting anyone, but that didn’t mean one of the other Omega girls didn’t want to come visit, or the Beta coming to check on you. “Coming!” You called and set your piece of pizza back on the plate, wiping your hands quickly as you got to your feet. You padded silently over to the door, your steps light, despite the interruption. You opened the door to see the Beta on the other side. Your new house mother. “Hello, Beta Ann,” you greeted her politely. She was new and stuffy and still old-school enough that she wanted to be addressed by her title every time anyone spoke to her.

She gave you a warm matronly smile. It was a bit condescending. “Hello, dear,” she always spoke down to the Omegas, as if you couldn’t understand what she was saying. “I received your message that you wish to look for a new position?” She made it a question. It was her job to help you find something. Sometimes she could have better connections than the websites that the Omegas could access.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am,” you replied politely. She really was stuffy and old schooled, but if she could help you… you’d be polite. “It isn’t that I dislike my position. It’s just… not the right fit,” you explained quickly, hoping she would understand.

She nodded sympathetically and looked over the clipboard she was carrying. “You’ve been in that position six months, I see. Yes, that’s plenty of time to realize it’s not the right fit,” she agreed. She looked up at you again. “I was actually going to speak with you regardless. A position crossed my desk that I thought you would be a good fit for, given your abilities,”

You perked up at that. A position for your abilities? Your skills? Not just because you were an Omega? “Really? What position?” You asked eagerly. You tried not to appear too eager. That would be impolite. It was a tentative balance.

“There is a group who is looking for an Omega. It’s a live-in position. All room and board is covered on top of a generous salary. They are specifically looking for someone with medical background and your healing abilities are very appealing to them,”

Medical background and healing?

And a proper home?

It sounded absolutely perfect.

“I’m definitely interested, ma’am,” you told her brightly.

She nodded her agreement. “Very good, dear. I’ll let them know and set up the interview for you. I’m sure it will just be a formality,”

Most Omega interviews were. The Alphas in charge didn’t need to interview, not really. They just needed to catch your scent or psychic scent and determine if you would fit in with their tempers and soothe their needs.

“Thank you, ma’am,” you told her politely. She gave you another condescending smile before she left you to set things up.

A few days later, you found yourself in front of your mirror adjusting your suit’s jacket for the billionth time before your interview. The suit looked good on you, and professional. Though you still knew that you had that Omega air about you. An Alpha or Beta could identify you on scent, on sight, even without the collar around your neck.

All Omegas were required to wear a collar once they presented as an Omega. Puppies (children) presented their secondary gender, their caste, officially toward the end of puberty, usually around 16 or 17 years old. There were usually signs before that of what a puppy would be when they matured and you’d heard that there was a test that puppies could take now to determine what they would present as.

The collar you wore was the generic collar every Omega wore until they were claimed by an Alpha. It was silver and plain, thin, not heavy at all, but you would never forget it was there, not since the day it had been locked on. Only an Alpha could remove it. And only your Alpha would, when you were claimed and mated, only to put his or her own collar on in its place. It was still a holdover from the old laws. You’d never gotten a good answer as to why. You always got some bullshit reason about knowing who to protect. Omegas were more rare than Alphas or Betas, so you weren’t surprised the law hadn’t changed.

There was nothing you could do about it. And it wasn’t ugly. But it did single you out as an unclaimed Omega. Especially at your age. There was no specific age to find your Alpha, but most Omegas you knew your own age were already claimed.

You knew it made you a target. You could be claimed against your will, mated against you will, if you didn’t already have an Alpha. That didn’t mean you were going to settle.

That was also why the company was sending a car to pick you up for your interview. Beta Ann had said that a Beta security guard from the company to escort you safely to and from the interview.

You made sure you had your phone in your purse as well as your resume before you headed out of the house. You said goodbye to Beta Ann and only left once the Beta security guard, a many named Happy of all things, rang the bell to collect you.

Your eyes widened when you saw the limo that was waiting to take you to the interview. What the hell kind of company was this? The information hadn’t been passed along to you. You didn’t know of Beta Ann knew or not. She didn’t deem it important enough information to tell you if she did know.

Happy opened the limo’s door for you and you thanked him softly and politely as you took the seat inside. He gave you the warm smile everyone gave Omegas. They couldn’t help it. Your presence was soothing to everyone. He shut the door behind you and got in the driver’s seat. Soon you were driving through the city, toward the city center. You watched out the window with interest, curious as to where this company could be. What this company could be.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t your limo stopping at the VIP parking in front of the Avengers’ tower. It wasn’t the press that were staked out to catch pictures of the superheroes and anyone who came to visit the tower. It wasn’t Happy parking in that VIP section and coming around to open your door again for you.

The Avengers.

You were interviewing for the Avengers.

You couldn’t believe your luck. This really was the perfect opportunity.

You understood immediately that this was a test.

An Omega who couldn’t handle the press, couldn’t handle the surprise of showing up at the tower, who broke down at any little uncertainty or surprise, wasn’t an Omega that would work out for the team and wouldn’t be what they needed.

Desperately in your soul, you knew that this was what you needed and you vowed to do anything in your power to make sure you got this job.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #Omega mine #chapter 1 #nekoamamori

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

Into The Wild

Chapter 1: Daisy

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

words: 2468

Willa Clary gets out of her car and shuts the door with a dull slam, sending up a cloud of dust and scaring off a lizard who had been sunning on a nearby rock. She surveys her surroundings with a grin, taking in the trees, the small clearing of wooden cabins, and the shiny blue lake in the distance. She pulls a faded brochure from her pocket and reads the words she’s read about a thousand times over the last few months:

“Camp Vesuvia: eight weeks of summer fun!”

The photograph on the front shows the same view she’s looking at, but the scene in front of her is far more beautiful than the photo. The trees are more green, the sky more blue, and the cabins around her look even more charming. In the summer heat the air seems to shimmer, giving everything a slightly magical quality. Willa decides that she loves the place already.

When Asra, her best friend and old college roommate, told her about the job opening at the summer camp he works at, she’d jumped at the chance. Asra has told her plenty of stories about what goes on during a summer at Camp Vesuvia and with every story she found herself wanting to be a part of it. He told her about the other people who work there and how fun it is to get to know all of the campers, he told stories of roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories around the fire. He’d also mentioned how beautiful the scenery is, but his description hadn’t done it justice.

All of Asra’s stories brought Willa back to her own childhood, spent in a tiny rural town where exploring nature was pretty much the only activity available. She’d moved away to the big city for college, where she’d hoped to find her way. But after graduating she’d found herself with a degree, but no job, and an aching feeling that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

And since Willa loves nature and children (and also really needed a job) she figured a job at a summer camp would be a perfect fit for her. So she’d packed her bags and driven out into the middle of nowhere, her home for the next eight weeks.

The door of the cabin closest to her opens with the sound of a bell, and Willa’s eyes are drawn to the tall woman standing in the doorway. Her height draws attention, as does her brightly colored purple hair. Willa takes in the woman’s perfectly styled outfit and heeled boots, she doesn’t look like she belongs in the middle of the woods, but something about her seems very welcoming.

“Welcome, Willa, we’ve been expecting you!” The woman calls, beckoning her over with a perfectly manicured hand.

“Hi! You must be Nadia?” Willa asks, moving to shake the camp director’s already outstretched hand.

“Yes I am, if you should require anything over the course of the summer I can be found here in the office. I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival, Asra has told me quite a bit about you,” Nadia smiles, shutting the door behind them as Willa follows her inside.

The front room of the cabin is small but well decorated. A large polished wood desk takes up the majority of the room and bookshelves and filing cabinets cover most of the remaining wall space. Nadia settles into the chair behind the desk and Willa takes the empty seat in front of it. She looks around as Nadia searches for a file, taking in the stylish furnishing and decor which looks surprisingly perfect in the wood paneled cabin.

Nadia finds the correct file and riffles through it briefly before pulling out a small stack of paper which she hands to Willa. “I’ll just need your final signature on some of the paperwork and we’ll get you all settled in. We expect the first round of campers tomorrow morning at nine, and things will only get busier after then.”

“How many campers do you expect in total?” Willa asks. She looks through the paperwork quickly as she signs it, standard onboarding and personal information, all as expected.

Nadia frowns slightly at the question and her forehead furrows, portraying a bit of the stress hidden behind her cheerful facade. “We have nearly seventy campers staying for the entire summer, the most we’ve ever had at one time. Which is precisely why I decided to take on more help. We have a small but reliable staff here but I thought it was time for some reinforcements.”

Willa hands over the completed paperwork and watches as Nadia carefully looks it over. “Wow, that’s a lot of kids, but I’m sure we can handle it!”

“That’s the sort of encouraging spirit we need around here,” Nadia smiles. “Asra told me you were an ‘eternal optimist’ and I hoped his description would prove accurate.”

Willa blushes slightly at the compliment and smiles back at Nadia, making a mental note to thank Asra later for his apparently glowing recommendation. “It’s easy to be optimistic in a place as beautiful as this.”

The sound of a bell alerts them as the front door opens and Nadia stands to greet the person entering, “Ah, here’s Asra.”

“Willa!” Asra calls from behind her and WIlla nearly knocks her chair over in her haste to hug him.

“Asra! I’ve missed you!” Willa takes in the familiar appearance of her friend. Asra wears a pair of overalls over a “Camp Vesuvia” shirt. A name tag pinned to one of the straps says his name, written in familiar handwriting and accented with a sparkly smiley face sticker.

“I’m happy you decided to take my advice and come to Camp Vesuvia, you’re going to love it here,” Asra says.

“Yes, I hope that you will, Willa,” Nadia smiles at the two of them before taking her seat again. She points to the wall behind Willa, “Your room key is hanging on that board, it’s the one with the red ribbon. I’ll leave Asra to show you the way. I'm quite busy with last minute preparations, but I hope you’ll find the lodgings comfortable.”

Willa turns to the board, spotting the key hanging all the way at the top. “Thank you, Nadia!” She stands on her tiptoes to reach for the key and Asra laughs, reaching up from behind her. He easily grabs the key and hands it to her, ignoring the annoyed expression on her face.

“Still as short as always,” Asra teases.

“Still as rude as always,” Willa frowns, but she’s too excited to stay mad.

“Let’s get you moved in. Did you bring that scarf you said you’d give me?” Asra heads for the door and Willa follows, laughing at his enthusiasm.

“Yes, and I brought extra yarn so I can make you another if you’d like—” Willa’s words are cut off as the door opens before Asra can get to it. A large figure stands in the doorway, and Willa and Asra step to the side to let him in. He has to duck a little to enter the room, and Willa looks up at him, noticing shoulder length dark hair and a park ranger’s uniform.

Nadia stands to greet him, “Ah, Muriel, excellent timing. I was just going to call you. We’ve had a few bear sightings around camp and I wanted to go over our safety plans, perhaps we can ensure all of the trash receptacles are in working order.”

The man nods in agreement, but his attention moves away from Nadia and over to Willa. When he notices that she’s looking back at him he swiftly looks away, clearing his throat as he takes a step closer to Nadia’s desk and away from Willa. In the near split second when they looked at each other, Willa noticed how bright his eyes were, green like the trees outside. Her eyes stay on him, noting the way his posture slumps a little as if he’s used to being too tall for a space.

“Oh, pardon me for not making introductions sooner. Muriel, this is WIlla, she’s our new counselor and the arts and craft director,” Nadia gestures at Willa, “And Willa, this is Muriel. He’s the park ranger assigned to our area. The ranger station is about a mile from here. if anything goes wrong he’s the first to call.” Nadia gives Muriel a warm smile and he flushes faintly, eyes resolutely staring down at the wooden floors.

“Muriel’s great, he’s the best at roasting marshmallows,” Asra says, finally pulling Willa’s attention away from the man. Asra raises an eyebrow at her in question and Willa looks away, brushing past him to move towards the door.

She turns to glance over her shoulder at Muriel, who still seems to be finding the floorboards exceedingly interesting. “It was nice to meet you, Muriel,” Willa says, giving him a cheery smile. Muriel looks up in surprise and stares at her for a minute before nodding in response. Willa turns to leave, Asra right behind her.

“‘It was nice to meet you, Muriel’” Asra imitates in a sing-song voice that sounds surprisingly accurate to Willa’s. She scoffs and fights the urge to shove his arm as if they were twelve, she sticks her tongue out at him instead— much more mature.

“Clearly he’s attractive, you can’t blame me for staring,” Willa says, rolling her eyes at Asra’s over-eager expression.

“True, I can’t blame you, and like I said— Muriel’s a great guy. He’s a bit shy and doesn’t like to socialize much as you may have noticed, but he’s saved us from quite a few scrapes over the years,” Asra recounts. “He repaired the roof of the main hall after a thunderstorm knocked over a tree last year, and he even put out a fire once when a campfire got out of hand.” “Well, he sounds like quite the man.” Willa hides her smile as she turns to open the trunk of her car. She hauls out a suitcase painted a bright blue color and dotted with daisies, she’d done the art herself one day when she’d run out of canvases and needed something new to paint on. Asra grabs her other bag and shuts the trunk, giving her another smirk.

“Let's get going, I’ll give you a full tour along the way.” Asra hoists her duffle bag over his shoulder as he walks. Willa follows behind, taking in all the sights as he leads the way through Camp Vesuvia.

Asra delivers on his promise of a tour, pointing out everything they pass along the way. “The building we just left is the office, but we all call it ‘the palace’ because Nadia’s the queen around here. Don’t worry though, she’s a benevolent ruler,” he laughs. Nadia seems kind, but she clearly expects the best from everyone and Willa would hate to disappoint her.

They pass the arts and crafts cabin, the main hall where meals are eaten, and each of the cabins for campers. Asra stops in front of a small building next to the main hall, it looks homey and a small puff of smoke comes out of its chimney. A wooden sign by the door is marked with a large pot and a spoon and judging by the delicious smell of bread emanating from the building, this is the kitchen.

“Here’s the kitchen, Portia works here along with Hestion and Selasi. You’ll meet them at dinner. I’m convinced they’re the best cooks in the world, and Selasi’s pumpkin bread is legendary.” For a minute it seems like Asra might go in to look for the aforementioned pumpkin bread, but he turns away from the door and continues on the dirt path forward.

He points to another small cabin to their right, “And here’s the first aid center. Julian is our resident doctor, he’s Portia’s older brother,”

“Ah, I seem to remember someone named Julian from quite a few of your stories,” Willa says, jokingly waggling her eyebrows. Asra grimaces and looks straight ahead, not meeting her eyes.

“Yes well, that was in the past. Those stories are old,” Asra waves a hand as if to show how unimportant those stories were. “Let’s move on, over here is where we store the canoes! Lucio is our recreation director, he’s kind of an asshole but the kids think he’s cool.”

The tour continues on until they reach a larger looking cabin tucked back into the trees. It has a wrap-around porch dotted with comfortable looking chairs and a bright green door. It looks welcoming, and there's a great view of the lake from the front porch. Willa can picture herself out there enjoying a cup of coffee or knitting.

“And here we have our final destination for the day, the counselor's cabin where everyone on staff here lives.” Asra shows her through the comfortable three story cabin, it’s more modern than Willa had expected. She thinks back to the well decorated front office, the palace, and decides that Nadia must be responsible for this cabin’s design as well.

Finally, Asra leads her to a closed door on the second floor and she unlocks it, entering a small but cozy looking bedroom. The walls are painted sky blue and a vase on the dresser has fresh flowers in it, she immediately feels at home. Willa sets her suitcase down by the dresser and flops down on the bed facedown.

“This is going to be so fun!” she squeals, her words slightly muffled by a pillow.

Asra flops down next to her, “You’re going to love it! The camp comes alive when the campers get here, and I bet you’ll be great at teaching art.”

“I hope so, but it’s been a while since I made a friendship bracelet,” Willa laughs, pointing to Asra’s wrist which is bedecked with half a dozen colorful string bracelets.

“Campers made these for me,” he explains proudly, lifting his arm up so Willa can see the bracelets better. “A lot of the same kids come back every year and most of the staffers do too. I think you’ll fit right in, this is going to be the best summer!”

Willa looks out the window next to her bed and catches a glimpse of Nadia and the park ranger, Muriel, out inspecting the grounds. Muriel looks up at the window as if he can sense her gaze and she smiles and waves at him. He doesn’t respond, quickly walking away towards the trees, but Willa thinks she might’ve seen a hint of a smile tug at his lips as he looked at her.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this summer, too,” Willa says, turning back to Asra with a giddy grin. “I can’t wait!”

✧

#here's chapter one!#willa wednesday #willa clary #muriel the arcana #milla #the complete cast of characters is as follows:#willa- camp counselor and director of arts and crafts #muriel- park ranger #nadia- camp director #asra- camp counselor #julian- doctor/ first aid #portia- cook #lucio- recreation director #me- overexcited writer

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sincerelyella · 3 years

Text

RAMifications Prologue - Breakaway

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella); Ella x OC

Song Inspiration: Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks and Ethan belongs to me

Summary: How Liam met Ella and their love story.

A/N: This entire idea came from Burnsy and her unBEARable series featuring her OTP Drake x Alyssa Devereaux. This is Ella’s backstory and how she met the love of her life King Liam of Cordonia. This doesn’t follow much of TRR books, there is still a social season but not all of the players are present. Throw canon out the window! If you have not read unBEARable by @burnsoslow (catch up here) I suggest you go and read that first. There are SPOILERS in this series!

Warnings: Except cursing? Not much.

Words: 1129

Ella Brooks was sick of school.

At 25 years-old, she had already busted her ass and gotten her bachelor’s degree in history and political science.. Her parents, however, were less than thrilled about her choice in majors. She agreed to go back to school and was almost done with her bachelor’s degree in nursing at the University of California in Los Angeles, just needing a semester of an internship for graduation. Ella had already told all of her professors that she wasn’t doing an internship abroad before graduation. It was the sudden break up with her long time boyfriend that made her change her mind and want to get the hell out of California.

A week ago

As Ella walked to her car from campus - she had put in a study session at the library - Ella heard loud laughter echoing from the outdoor bar next to where she parked. That sounds an awful lot like … she narrowed her eyes just as she saw that it was her boyfriend Ethan. He was laughing with a blonde haired woman, his arm around her shoulders, face close to hers as they held onto their drinks.

Unable to contain her anger she stalked over to the oblivious pair and tapped Ethan on the shoulder. He turned and the smile he had on his face immediately fell, his eyes widened in shock.

“Uh … Ella, hey! Wh-what are you doing here?”

Ella grit her teeth and tried to compose herself. “Ethan. I was studying, as you know since you were supposed to meet me.”

“W-well, something came up after the meeting.”

Ella’s arms were folded in front of her, her brow arched. There was an awkward silence and the blonde couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hi! I’m Madeleine. Can we help you?” she said, with an oblivious smile on her face.

Ella looked at Madeleine, then back to Ethan. “Actually no, Madeleine. I think I’m done here.” Ella turned and walked towards her car.

Ethan scrambled to stand up, leaving Madeleine at the bar with a perplexed look on her face. “Ella! Wait!”

She kept walking, absolutely seething and determined to get to her car before Ethan caught up with her.

“Ella!” Ethan grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “I’m so sorry, that’s not what it looked like. W-we’re just … friends, me and Madeleine.”

“This is why you flaked out on the study session and had me sit in the library alone for hours? She was your ‘quick meeting at work?’”

“I DID have a meeting!”

“Your meeting consisted of sitting at a bar with your arm around her? Your face was right next to hers! Oh my God, Ethan! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?!”

“S-she had asked me out for a drink and -”

Ella couldn’t stand there and listen to his bullshit anymore. She wrenched her arm from his grasp and walked to her car. “We’re done Ethan,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m sick of all your excuses about all these different women being ‘just your friend’. I’m throwing out all your shit in my apartment if you don’t come get them tomorrow.” She got in her car, turned the ignition and sped off, leaving Ethan standing in the street.

Present-day

Ella dragged her carry on suitcase and personal items past TSA and customs in the Los Angeles International Airport. She stood in line for an hour just for them to wave her throug; she rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her long dark hair in two braids, she sported a plain black baseball hat, a plain grey t-shirt, black leggings and Nike sneakers.

Once Ella made it to her terminal she saw people already lining up to board. She presented her boarding pass and went through to the walkway to find her seat. The flight finally took off after a couple stragglers hurried onto the plane and sat down. Ella’s noise-cancelling headphones were a game changer. Damn these were so worth the money.

Ella thought about her life in Los Angeles and how much things have changed. That was two years of my life I’ll never get back. She knew Ethan was never devoted to her, yet she stayed with him out of … familiarity? Complacency?

Time for a new beginning. Ella settled into her seat, waited for the snacks and drinks to be distributed before she fell asleep.

15 hours later

Ella walked through Cordonia International Airport and went into the customs line.

“Miss Ella Brooks?” the customs agent asked while looking at her passport and paperwork.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“You’re here for a study abroad internship?

“Yes sir, I’m with the International Medical Aid program with UCLA. I’ll be a nurse intern in the Children’s Hospital at the capitol.”

The customs agent nodded. “Okay and how long will you be here for?”

“Six weeks.”

“Alright,” he stamped her passport and wrote down the dates on her paperwork. “Just know that if you plan on staying longer than that you’ll need to be employed in Cordonia. You either need to extend the dates or file for Cordonian citizenship. ”

Ella chewed on her bottom lip. Stay? “Right, thank you.”

The agent handed Ella back her documents and she was shuffled off into a van with her classmates from the study abroad program.

Five weeks later

In the last five weeks, Ella fell head over heels in love with the little country called Cordonia. The people were friendly, they loved to hear about where she came from and were in awe that she volunteered at a busy ER five days a week. Ella had contacted her university in Los Angeles and requested all her transcripts be sent to Cordonia University. She still had a couple more classes to finish plus her licensing exam to take; she couldn’t begin working as a nurse until those were complete. According to the U.S. embassy, she would need to find a job in Cordonia that was at least two days a week. After six months of steady work, she could file for Cordonian citizenship.

Ella walked outside the Emergency Room of the Children’s Hospital on her lunch break. She loved walking around the capitol exploring the architecture and little shops in the area. There was even a large library next to a fountain of a naked ... person that she sat in for hours. The historical books on Queen Kendra Rys were so interesting, she found herself wondering what it was like to be royalty. The small country was one of the few that was still governed by a monarchy and her political science degree made her even more excited to read the stories.

Ella’s eyes stopped at a shop that sold cronuts and quirked her brow. What exactly is a cronut? She saw two men and a woman sitting inside at a corner table that had what looked like a dozen or more cronuts in front of them. One man had on a black t-shirt with dark jeans and scowl on his face; he was sitting next to a beautiful woman with dark hair and wore a Chicago Bears jersey with jeans. Nice, someone here that knows American football. The other man had on a blue shirt with squids all over it and dark jeans as well. The man with the squid shirt was chattering away with the woman, both seemingly oblivious to the other man’s glowering. Are they going to eat all of that? She shrugged and walked in to try one. Ten minutes later she had eaten two cronuts and had a to-go cup of coffee in her hands.

Time to head back. Ella crossed the street and started towards the hospital. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a small flower truck parked on the curb. A long line had formed right outside the window and whoever was working there looked frantic. She caught a sign on the window that said Help Wanted. Ella arched her brow and stood there thinking for a moment. Oh, why not? She walked over to the window.

“Excuse me! Are you looking to hire someone?”

#RAMifications #Liam x MC #Liam x Ella #Ella x OC #trr fanfic #trr fandom #choices trr #trr au #trr #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance au #choices liam x mc #choices trr au #choices liam #pixelberry #play choices

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withkun · 4 years

Text

visage | j. jaehyun

genre: enemies to lovers... kinda? with some fluff and smut :) word count: 5.2k pairing: reader x jaehyun warnings: graphic hetersexual sex (oral, penetration, etc), swearing, excessive world building summary: Your first day of work at your first real job began terribly. You hadn’t got enough sleep, you could barely eat your breakfast, and you managed to get lost on the way. Soon, you discover you’re working alongside serial charmer Jaehyun Jung and that he will stop at nothing to be the best.

a/n: this is a mess im sorry lmao. i somehow managed to use jaehyun 86 times in here ... girl...

You felt completely, utterly, and hopelessly lost – all on the first day of your first real job. That morning, you awoke two hours earlier than you had to. If you had a choice, you would’ve face planted into your pillow and died right there. However, your anxiety decided against it. And with that extra time, you managed to pull off an extended morning routine. A warm, long shower. Ten-step skincare routine. Eggs, toast, and black tea. Despite your attempts to regain your confidence, all was lost as you circled the office building.

The orientation guide you received hadn’t helped much. All you knew was that you should report to building B. Whichever building that may have been, you had no idea. Your feet grew weary and you cursed yourself for wearing heels. You rounded the corner of the office park for your fourth or fifth lap, only to be cut off by an overdressed jackass. Before you could sidestep him and continue your hopeless journey, the perpetrator turned to face you.

“Oh, no. He’s hot,” you thought to yourself, praying your cheeks weren’t stained red. Despite wearing a well-tailored gray suit, you realized that he was likely your same age. He took in your slightly disheveled appearance, probably noting your ruffled hair and askew skirt.

He tilted his head in the direction of the closest building. “Are you here for orientation, too?”

Of course he had to be in your hiring class. Twenty-two and already looking like he owned the building. You nodded, then turned on your heel to rush inside. Trailing your steps, you heard him chuckle lowly.

You finally joined the rest of the new hires in the security lobby, managing to fix your appearance before you reached the door. To your gratitude, they dressed similarly to you. Just plain business casual. The boy you met earlier definitely stood out, making the others wonder if they hadn’t dressed well enough.

Within ten minutes, you all received security badges and shuffled into your orientation room. You preferred the back, whereas the business boy sat directly in the front. Rolling your eyes, you realized his game. You met plenty of people like him in college, ruthless climbers that destroyed everything in their paths. He knew he had to make more than an entrance, he had to make an impression.

You grew to dislike him more and more as your training sessions progressed over the course of two weeks. An insufferable know it all, answering all the questions managers prompted. Volunteering for everything first, unafraid. You on the other hand, did not find his actions necessary. He left a glowing impression, yes, but you found it meaningless. Like hell the trainers cared about how well you completed your general training. Maybe he wanted everyone to relate this to his future performance, for you to watch out for his dominance. For you to fear him. Worst of all, he saw you struggle with the most simplistic task on your first day.

He easily made friends within the group, as there were plenty others like him. All recent college graduates, fantastic resumes, and working for one of the best companies in the field. You, on the other hand, did not have such luck. Your social circle consisted of yourself and another quiet trainee, a quiet finance major named Doyoung. The two of you kept to yourselves and became the outliers of the group, so much to the extent that you sat alone for training sessions.

Two weeks came and passed, and you finally received your team assignments. You found your name on the bulletin, right next to Jaehyun Jung’s. Of course. It had to be this way.

Jaehyun approached the bulletin board aside you, and grinned as he found his name. “Looks like we’re working together,” he commented, still wearing the same expression. You realized why he appeared so happy. People like Jaehyun would not recognize someone like you as a threat. You barely appeared on his radar.

You grit your teeth and forced a smile. “I look forward to it.”

With your whorish luck, you found that your desks were right next to each other and you’d be essentially working back to back. You already hated being watched, and Jaehyun could easily look over his shoulder and see you struggling to keep up.

Jaehyun settled into his seat with ease, already look at home in his new desk. You sat gingerly on your office chair, gathering your surroundings.

Your desks sat right in the view of your department lead’s office, likely to Jaehyun’s excitement.

Being on the same team, you and Jaehyun had the rest of your training sessions together. Just you two and your manager. He always seemed to grasp the new concepts immediately while you merely pretended and made notes to ask Doyoung later.

They assigned your first project sometime later, one that you and Jaehyun would have to complete jointly. You dreaded it, knowing he would try to take over the project.

That first morning, Jaehyun was already at his desk. You glanced at your watch, nearly scoffing as you read off 6:59. Despite having the ability to make his own schedule, Jaehyun chose to arrive before seven. You collapsed into your desk chair, jealousy eyeing Jaehyun’s full coffee mug. He already had time to help himself to coffee. Typical.

“Morning,” he greeted, fully awake and energized. “I set up a meeting for 8 today to start working on the project.”

You powered on your desktop, mentally groaning at the hundreds of emails present in your mailbox. “That’s…fine,” you murmured, praying that you could address all your client emails in a measly hour without the aid of caffeine.

He glanced behind him to see you hunched over and lifelessly typing. “I’ll make that 9.”

And yet again, you were caught in a moment of weakness. Great. “Yeah, okay.”

Those two hours passed slowly, but at least you managed to prepare a cup of tea. By 8:55, Jaehyun already settled into the conference room and wrote diagnostics on the whiteboard. All while you still went through your emails.

You joined him, a fresh cup of tea in one hand and your laptop in another. “All right, I see that you’ve already set up the basics,” you said monotonously, nodding towards the whiteboard. “I conjured up some of my own ideas as well.” Without prompt, you rose and added a few bullet points under Jaehyun’s “approaches” section. You scanned his ideas, noting that they weren’t bad, but not what you had in mind.

“I see,” Jaehyun commented, still standing. He put his hands on his hips, carefully mulling over the options. “They’re quite good.”

You felt ashamed of your satisfaction for his response, but also surprise. He sounded genuine enough, but you knew that his type always had some angle to work. Prodding you board at your second option, you decided, “I think this is our best bet.”

Jaehyun remained quiet for a moment, eyes flickering across the board. “What if we combined a couple?” he inquired. He pointed to your idea, then his. “It would streamline the process more holistically.”

“Holistically??” you thought. You hadn’t heard that word since high school English class. It was so painfully pretentious to you.

He went on to explain how it would work, but you were still caught up on the pure obnoxiousness of the word “holistically.”

“Y/N,” Jaehyun tried. “Hello?”

You blinked, finally hearing your name. “Sorry, I was thinking about how this will impact everything.” A lie, Jaehyun didn’t need to know how long you caught yourself on a single word.

“So, what do you think?” Jaehyun leaned against the wall, eyes searching yours.

Oh god, now you were thinking about his eyes. Pushing those thoughts aside, you answered, “So long as we put a heavy emphasis on my part, I think it’ll work.”

He agreed and you went on, mostly working quietly. You avoided asking him questions, even when you became desperate. Jaehyun, meanwhile, tried to engage you in small talk.

“Where did you go to college?” he asked, to which you gave him a one-word response.

“Are you from here?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“What was your major?”

You barely answered, but he failed to get the point until he finally inquired to something relevant. “Did I do something that offended you?”

You drew in a breath, fumbling for the right words. If you were honest with him, you wouldn’t have to put on a façade. If you lied, you wouldn’t get on his bad side. Even pretty boys like him could be ruthless if given the opportunity and reason. You saw it before, you knew you would see it all over again.

“No,” you decided, pulling on a tight-lipped smile. “I just want to do really well on this.”

That last part, at least, wasn’t a lie. You felt that you had to prove yourself, especially against the Jaehyuns of the world. If only briefly, you saw his relief. His face relaxed a little, and his shoulders lost some tension. “Me too,” he agreed.

The following month went on similarly. You completed the project quietly, only interjecting to make corrections and provide your input. When you finally reached the day of your presentation, your nerves caught you once more. You woke up far too early and arrived at the office at the same time as Jaehyun. A new record.

If he was on edge, you couldn’t tell. Outwardly, he appeared the same. Nothing could take away his quiet glow of confidence. Jaehyun worked, unbothered, sipping his coffee almost casually.

“Are you ready?”

Jaehyun turned to face you. “Never been readier.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if readier is a word.”

With a shrug and smile, Jaehyun returned to his work again. Odd, considering he was always chatty.

You attempted to mimic him, to work without doubts and review your notes. But your hands shook as you tried to type. You knew you couldn’t focus until you finished the presentation.

Although you hadn’t noticed him leave, you saw him approach your desk. Jaehyun gingerly placed a styrofoam cup on your desk. Your eyes met his. “Jaehyun?”

“Just some tea before the presentation,” he explained. “I noticed you like black tea with honey.”

You brought the cup to your lips, delighted to find that it was the perfect temperature. For once, you didn’t care about his motive. “Thanks,” you said. And you meant it.

He gave you wink. “We’ll be great today.”

You hoped he was right.

The presentation crept up on you suddenly, much faster than you had anticipated. Jaehyun found you outside the conference room, where you managers and team lead had already gathered, pacing and talking to yourself.

“Are you okay?”

He caught you again, there was no use in denying the truth. “Absolutely not.”

Jaehyun laughed lowly and put a hand on your shoulder. A part of you wanted to shrug it off, but you felt a strange comfort. “I’m nervous, too.”

You almost burst out laughing. Like hell he was nervous. But his concession, fake or real, made you feel some comfort.

Having reeled yourself in, you entered the conference room together.

And together, you made it through the presentation. You both had prepared excessively, ready to answer any question thoroughly. Management applauded your efforts, declaring that you had exceeded expectations. They rewarded you with a gift-card to a nearby steakhouse and urged you to celebrate together. Hastily, you attempted to invite the managers, only to be declined. They had work to complete in the office.

Your cheeks lit up red with embarrassment, but you agreed to make reservations for that night.

Jaehyun offered a ride over, to which you vehemently wanted to reject. Before the eyes of your manager, you took him up. You assured yourself that he was still the same person you knew. Nothing different. Nothing could’ve changed that. Seeing his car certainly helped. You never knew any recent college graduates that drove a Tesla, and yet…

Once you arrived at the restaurant, you quickly ordered yourself a martini. You didn’t care which one, so long as it had plenty of alcohol. Jaehyun simply ordered a beer, quoting driver safety commercials. “Just this,” he promised you, then proposed a toast. “We pulled it off.”

You drank your martini with gusto, and then prompted the waiter for another one. Jaehyun watched as you became drunk, consistently grinning as began to ramble. “You know I hate you, right?”

Your question caught him off guard. “You hate me?”

With a smile, you brought the martini glass to your lips. “You’re too perfect and try too hard.” His expression fell, but you forged on. For months, he made you feel inadequate and beyond anxious. You befuddled mind justified this bluntness. “Every day feels like a goddamn competition.”

Jaehyun reached across the table, taking your hand. “I had no idea,” he admitted quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s whatever. You’re no different from most in our hiring class.”

With a sigh, Jaehyun took an elongated sip from his beer. “They’re not all bad.”

Despite the alcohol coursing its way through your system, you realized that a few strands of hair fell out of place. He hunched over, brows furrowed, lost in thought. It wasn’t the first time you saw that either. Just out of your periphery vision, you saw him buried in work while you finished the project.

Jaehyun swept his hands through his hair. The way he bit his lip made you wonder if he was holding himself back. And the waiter arrived with your meals before you could muster a response.

You sat in silence, Jaehyun haphazardly cutting his steak. He refused to look at you.

As you absentmindedly twirled your pasta onto your fork, Jaehyun finally spoke up. “I’m not perfect, and you’re not easy to work with either.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t conceal your anger at this sentiment.

Jaehyun met your gaze, eyes determined. “You had to control every part of the project. Had everything your way.”

That, you had heard before. And you absolutely hated it. “We did well on the project because of me,” you said defensively. “Lest you forget.”

The two of you went on bickering like this, angrily finishing your meals and drinks. The waiter hesitantly approached your table, and you demanded the check. The sooner you could leave, the better.

Once paid, you managed to not storm out of the restaurant. But you wore a disgruntled expression and balled your fists.

You reached your work parking lot, and instantly ejected yourself from the Tesla. It wasn’t until you reached your car, however, that you realized that you didn’t have your keys. Probably left it in the passenger seat.

Angrily, you stomped back to Jaehyun’s space where he twirled the keys around his index finger. “I’m not letting you drive. You drank too much.”

You gritted your teeth. “I sobered up plenty.”

Jaehyun approached you and held a square device in front of him. “Well, then you can prove it.”

You yanked the breathalyzer from him, not bothering to ask why he had it. Made sense for someone like him. With a groan, you realized he was right. 0.1.

Not wanting to admit it, you continued your enraged march to the nearby retention pond where a lone bench sat in front of the water. You crossed your arms, and bitterly stared at the water from there.

Jaehyun followed you, leaning onto the back of the bench. “I didn’t know this place existed.”

You laughed bitterly. “It’s because you never leave your desk. You’re always working. Always networking. Always trying something.”

To your surprise, Jaehyun appeared to calm down from earlier. He regained his flawless demeanor. “It takes me a lot longer to do things.”

Well that, that took you off guard. “Doing extra work,” you said, making a weak attempt to correct him.

“No.” After a long pause, he asked, “Do you really hate me?”

His tone made you feel some guilt. “Don’t you hate me?” you shot back, remembering his comments at the restaurant.

“I don’t,” he affirmed. “I never have.”

You considered that. In your college career, you made plenty of enemies with the same behavior. Those times, you ensured yourself, were valid. Those classmates never completed their work and simply didn’t care about the performance. You had been left with ten-page papers to complete on your own. You turned poorly written trash into works professors recommended for publishing. But you knew Jaehyun wasn’t the same as them at least.

Behind Jaehyun, the sun had just begun to set. The sky lit up with orange and pink hues. “I shouldn’t have taken over the project,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. A part of you hoped he wouldn’t hear.

“Oh,” Jaehyun said softly.

You gave him a warning expression. “Do not let that get to your head. You came into this job with an agenda.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Jaehyun groaned. “Where the hell are you getting these ideas from?”

You couldn’t bear to look at him, imagining the smug look on his face as he basically told you that you were crazy. “People like you are always ruthlessly ambitious.”

“And what am I like, then?” Jaehyun mused.

Without skipping a beat, you explained, “Attractive, charming, overcompensating.”

You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head, and just knew his smug smile made another appearance. He chuckled and said, “Sounds like you.”

“Funny,” you mocked. “Last time I checked; I’m only overcompensating less outwardly.”

He joined you and took a seat on the bench, stretching his arm over the top of the bench. Only inches away from being on your shoulders. Disgusting. “You’re wrong.”

Without prompt, he suggested a game of twenty questions. Jaehyun clarified his intent, stating that perhaps you misunderstood each other. Sensing your doubt, he held his pinky finger out and searched your eyes. You hesitantly connected your pinkies and brought your thumb to your lips, both promising to be truthful.

“Do you think I’m good at my job?” you inquired first, eyes cast out to the sparkling pond.

Almost instantaneously, Jaehyun firmly answered, “Yes.” You concealed your satisfaction, biting your lip to prevent you to smile. “Do you think I’m good at my job?”

You replied almost as quickly, “Of course I do.”

The questions got progressively less serious, some among the likes of favorite movies and which books you were currently reading. Somehow, you felt relaxed. Jaehyun didn’t feel like competition, but rather just a normal stupid boy. He let you have another try at the breathalyzer, and you felt relief in the .05 reading before you. At the same time, you wanted to remain beside him.

“I don’t think I hate you anymore,” you conceded, accepting your words as truth. “If you stop coming off as perfect all the time.

He let out a laugh, a sweet sound of joy and relief. “Hey, you come off as perfect too. You were just quiet around me.” With a devilish grin, Jaehyun ventured, “Is it because you think I’m attractive?”

You glared at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you trying so hard because you find me attractive?” you challenged him.

Jaehyun turned his body to face you. “That depends on whether it’s working.”

Now games like these you didn't mind as much. A harmless game of chicken, testing your limits. Work had its difficulties, but boys? Easy. You cupped his cheek, amazed at how soft his skin felt to the touch. Your eyes met, beckoning the other to try something. "So, this is why you asked me if I was dating anyone?" you dared. "Under the guise of getting to know me and making small talk. I thought someone as perfect as you would have more...subtlety." You let the last word slip out of your mouth slowly. Registering his surprise, you continued, “I don’t forget things easily, hence why I’ve been able to hate you so long.”

Jaehyun grinned cockily, placing your hand on his chest. You felt defined muscles straining against his button-down. Already, you figured his body would match the rest of his veneer. “You really have nerve being out here like this,” Jaehyun overserved, gesturing the office park a short walk away.

“Oh, uncomfortable here?” you drawled playfully, then took his hand. “I know somewhere you may like.”

You felt a wave of confidence wash over you, and you realized this what you assumed Jaehyun had always felt. Then you decided that you’d make it up to him one way or another. He followed you, only letting your hands detach as you got closer to the infamous “B” building you worked in. You noted his nervousness and gave him a reassuring smile. “Trust me,” you urged.

Entering through the side door, you managed to avoid security. Your entry would appear on a log, but you could easily bristle over it and say that you forgot your laptop at your desk. Most of your coworkers avoided the stairs, so you led Jaehyun away from the elevator. Though, you had forgotten that you were wearing heels. You struggled up the steps by the second flight, clinging onto the railing for dear life. Jaehyun noted this, but said nothing as he swept you into his arms.

“I wish you did on the first floor,” you joked. “Or maybe I could’ve just taken them off.”

Jaehyun refused to let you down until you reached the fourth floor. Whenever you found yourself in a vulnerable state, you hid out beside the decommissioned wing. The unused nursing room featured its own bathroom and a small futon. Having visited the location so often, you knew that the cleaning staff rarely came by. You asked once and discovered that they only visit at the beginning of the month. No one else ever came by in your experience. It appeared that only you knew about this place, and now Jaehyun. “This is where you run away to,” he deciphered. “I always thought it was the café.”

“I prefer privacy.” You leaned against the door as Jaehyun took in his surroundings. “And I wanted to go somewhere you couldn’t find me.”

He fell back onto the futon, looking at you in awe. “Just when I think I know you.”

You fumbled for the lock behind you until you heard a distinct click. “Do you remember when you first met me? When I was so stupid and got lost?”

Jaehyun rose, appearing concerned. “I didn’t know. I just thought you were cute.”

He cornered you against the door, body close enough to feel your shaky breath. All that time just hating him when you could’ve been seducing him for the purpose of hindering his goals and ultimately find the truth much sooner. You wasted so much time, held so much resentment. In front of you, you saw a seemingly perfect boy study your movements, waiting. A position you would have never imagined yourself mere hours before. Yet, you saw it all in hindsight and perhaps always knew the truth. It was then that you decided that you didn’t want to play games anymore or mull over an agenda.

Jaehyun angled his chin downwards, gazing into your eyes with a mix of emotions. Excitement, fear, desire. You kissed him, gently and slowly. More carefully, you wanted to know him in this way. Feel the way his lips moved against yours, his increasing heart rate. He rested his hands on your hips, gripping them as if he couldn’t support himself without them. Soon after, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gradually deepened the kiss. These moments you shared felt like high school, so unassuming and simple.

You pulled away, resting your forehead on his. You caught your breath and entangled your fingers with his. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He idled, drawing kisses down your cheek and neck. “For what?” Jaehyun ventured.

“For not knowing you until now, and maybe still not knowing you.”

With his thumb, he drew circles on the back of your hand. “Do you want to know more?” he asked, his voice quietly sultry.

“Yes,” you whispered. With this admission, Jaehyun’s butterfly kisses became more daunting. He crashed his lips upon yours and held you closer. Your tongues soon met, messier and carelessly. Feeling daring, you ran your hand under his shirt, digging your fingernails against his abs. A bit lower, and you realized he was straining against his slacks.

Jaehyun bucked under your touch, gasping against your lips. You gripped his clothed cock with more certainty than before and Jaehyun fumbled to reach your breast. Still against the door, you held each other. “We’re lucky this room is soundproof,” you commented, noting your precarious position.

Not waiting for his response, you quickly undid Jaehyun’s belt followed by his zipper. You tugged his pants to his ankles and brought your attention to boxer-brief covered erection as you supported yourself on your knees. Laying a flat tongue against his balls, you drew a line from shaft to tip. He sucked in a sharp breath and watched you with hungry eyes as you finally removed the final layer of clothing.

His erection sprung upwards, precum already forming. Zealously, you took the tip into your mouth and ran your tongue over the wet slit. You leaned back, seeing Jaehyun absolutely desperate as he stood over you. Continuing, you wet his dick with sloppy kisses. You wanted him to have everything, feel every part of your mouth. With one hand on the base, you craned your neck to take in more of him from the tip. You used your whole body to rock your mouth further down his dick. When he reached the back of your throat, you gagged slightly but didn’t care. Gently at first, he began to rock his hips. Becoming restless, Jaehyun held your head and pushed his erection further down your throat with messy thrusts. You looked at him with wide eyes, conveying for him to continue.

Jaehyun instead picked you up as if you weighed nothing and placed you precariously on the couch. While naked from the waist down, you were still fully clothed. Wasting no time, Jaehyun ripped your blouse off - buttons and all flying wildly around the room. He pulled your bra cup down to reveal a nipple, to which he immediately pinched between his fingers. Already excited, he removed your black jeans and panties. Jaehyun lowered himself to your glistening pussy and brought a digit to his mouth before pushing it inside you. The penetration left you unwinding as he added another finger. He curled his fingers upwards, each push and pull hitting your g-spot. As you thrashed, he held you down with a firm hand, especially after he began sucking on your clit. In mere minutes, he brought you to your orgasm. You wished you had the words to describe the way you felt that immense pleasure, but nothing would ever be sufficient.

Breathlessly you beckoned Jaehyun to the bathroom. “I have an IUD,” you confirmed. With your new found trust, you knew Jaehyun wouldn’t even attempt to sleep with you if he had an STD. There, you gazed at him from the mirror. Watched him approach you and run his hands up and down your body. He positioned one leg so that you were half propped over the sink and still standing on the other. Jaehyun’s dick teased your aching pussy as he dragged it from your folds to your clit to your entrance. Both facing the mirror, your eyes locked as Jaehyun pushed himself fully in you. You both drew in strained breaths. Once he ensured that you adjusted, he fucked you. Neither of you ever watched yourselves have sex, but you were even more turned on watching Jaehyun clutch onto your tit and whisper obscenities in your ear.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, burying himself deeper in you.

Jaehyun slowed his pace, suddenly lifting you and pushing you against the wall. He supported your entire weight as he fucked you there.

“I’m going to ride you,” you said breathily, to which Jaehyun obliged immediately. He sat up straight on the futon, leading you to his cock once more. In that position, you put yourself to work. You bounced atop his dick, only stopping to grind your clit against his pelvis. You came unexpectedly, the sensation getting fucked and stimulating your clit becoming too much for you. Jaehyun and you both were surprised when a stream of liquid sprung out of you.

With his mouth agape, Jaehyun looked at you. “You can squirt?”

Before that moment, you would’ve answered that no, you couldn’t squirt since you never had. Until then. He registered your shock and turned you so that your back rested against the futon. Jaehyun hovered over you, hair askew and face reddened. You imagined that you appeared the same. He kissed you, breathing “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” on your lips.

Jaehyun unraveled quickly in this position, and you urged him to come on your tits. Following his orgasm, you attempted to clean yourselves up in the bathroom. “Everything smells like sex,” you observed, frivilously spraying Febreeze everywhere you could. Between futon cushions. The door handle, Jaehyun’s general direction. You didn’t realize you were shirtless until you saw a mess of buttons on the floor.

A weak solution, but Jaehyun offered you his suit jacket. You’d have to walk out of the building crossing your arms and praying a nipple wouldn’t escape, but something. Once the room was clean, Jaehyun and you fine-tuned your own appearances in the bathroom. Neither of you looked refined or polished, but human.

“I want more,” you admitted.

At the same time, Jaehyun asked, “Can I buy you dinner?”

You shook your head. This version of Jaehyun, the one messily fucking you in an office nursing room, you preferred. “I just want to spend time with you.”

Jaehyun smiled and agreed.

You left the room separately as to not arouse any suspicion. Jaehyun met you outside your car, once more carelessly spinning your keys. The sun had set by that time, leaving you both shrouded in moonlight. Despite the sun’s absence the air remained warm and inviting. “We’re going stargazing,” you decided. “After we change.”

Jaehyun arrived at the agreed upon park first, sporting a loose shirt and Adidas joggers. You never had seen him dressed so casually. He already set up a blanket at the top of the hill and rested on his back.

You wore a nearly identical outfit, and went without makeup. Normally, you hated it when your partners saw you without anything on. But you wanted Jaehyun to see this part of you, too. Despite living in a well-populated city, the stars appeared very clearly that night alongside a waxing crescent moon.

“Do you think the managers set us up?” Jaehyun pondered, wrapping an arm around your waist as you joined him.

“Without a doubt. And we’ll probably have to tell them about this at some point.”

And he kissed you again. How many times that night, you lost count. Looking at him, the image of the boy you met months ago flashed before your eyes. The one with the suit, the dashing smile, and dough-like dimples. You, a nervous wreck getting in her own way.

You fell asleep on his shoulder that night, head buried in his neck as he snored quietly.

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