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melancholyhigh · 9 months ago

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CRUSH CULTURE.

ft. college au!leon x reader

synopsis. you fuck up at being leon’s wingman, ruining his chances of getting a valentine’s day fuck. he’s frustrated and takes his anger out on you.

tags. 2.8k words. smut. mean!leon, lowk angsty, reader is kinda pathetic, angry fuck, dry humping, cunnilingus, dom!leon, rough sex, unprotected p in v, degradation, name calling (bitch, whore etc.), happy ending (?).

note. i’m sorry for being so inactive and rarely being online. school sucks so bad. i hope you guys can accept this as a formal apology. (let’s ignore that this is 2 days late.)

masterlist. reblogs & comments are highly welcomed :3

You aren’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. You're sick of seeing everyone fall in love, watching lovers exchange cheesy gifts and bashful smiles. You’re sick of people pretending they love each other more than they actually do. No, you’re sick of being left out.

You were a hopeless romantic, chasing love only for it to fall flat. You were obsessed with finding your other half, the person who would cherish you as much as you treasured them. You didn’t know if you loved love or just the idea of it, but it wouldn’t matter.

You’re only hopeless as you help the man you liked hook up with someone at a shitty college party.

It’s pathetic, truly, chatting up some sorority girls and putting a good name out for Leon while he stood beside you. You didn’t get why he couldn’t do it himself. He was handsome, albeit a bit awkward, but so were you. It’s why you two got along anyway. Leon was watching as you tried to get the drunk girl’s attention on him. Throughout the night, your wingman skills had only failed. They either did not pay attention to you or paid too much attention to you.

You were sick of it. You would have preferred staying in your dorm room and rewatching one of your favourite rom-coms. But you were only a fool, trying to help your friend out. It hurt more being there with him as he lamely tried to pick up girls in front of you. You didn’t know what was more pathetic, his terrible jokes or the state you were, absolutely heartbroken that he wouldn’t give you the time of day he’d give to random girls.

Maybe it’s faith’s cruel way of commentating on your desire for love by making you play cupid for the only person you seem to care about more than yourself.

You and Leon had something special, or you had hoped so. You met in your first year of college. You were both fucking awkward that you had to initiate the first conversation. Majoring in similar subjects, you both had gotten along well. You would even say you were best friends, but you knew deep down you always wanted more.

Ever since you first met, you found him enthralling. It only got worse as you got closer. Learning more about him seemed to solidify your pining for him. You were the only person he talked to, and vice versa. You confided in each other, maybe more than what close friends should, so it was only inevitable that he would share with you that he wanted to lose his virginity.

You had looked at him perplexed. Leon was pretty attractive, and maybe you were biased, but how had no one fucked him? You’ve seen the way girls look at him, blushing when he even glances at them for a second.

That is when Leon told you he planned on trying to hook up with some girl at the party, and he wanted your help because he knew he would fuck up somehow. You had humoured him. Nothing more romantic than taking a random girl home on Valentine’s Day and fucking her brains out.

–-

“It’s not that serious, Leon,” you groaned for the umpteenth time. You were both walking back to his apartment after unsuccessfully trying to hook him up with some sorority girl. He was grumbling behind you, pissed and sexually frustrated.

“It was your fault.” You roll your eyes at his statement. When you reach the door of his flat, you observe as he clumsily takes his keys out, trying to open the door. He finally manages to open the door, and you enter, taking your shoes off before settling on his couch.

You watch him beyond amused at his predicament as he paces back and forth in front of you.

“Why did you have to mention that? They were so into me before you fucked it up,” he huffs, stilling his movement to glare at you.

“C’mon, Leon. I’m sure they couldn’t give a fuck that you’re a nerd,” you said, repeating the same word you had let slip when you were praising your beloved best friend. You peered back up at him, acting casual as if his icy gaze didn’t have your heart beating wildly against your chest. You rarely saw him angry, and when he was, he never directed it to you.

“You ruined my chances at finally getting laid. I don’t know how to talk to these girls. You’re the only person I have.” He’s frustrated with you for fucking up whatever chance he finally had at popping his cherry. Even though logically it’s not your fault nor your duty to get his dick wet, he didn’t want to take responsibility right now.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you sighed, standing up and moving towards him. You try to put a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder, and he shrugs your touch off him. You don’t take it to heart. He’s a few inches taller than you, head slightly tilted as he looks down at you.

“Yeah? Well, now I have no one to fuck tonight.”

“I can change that,” you quip, and you instantly freeze at your own statement. You part your lips lightly in shock as you observe Leon’s reaction. It was a freudian slip, and it seemed to be happening more often than you’d like.

He continues looking down at you with furrowed brows as he tries to comprehend what you said. He thinks this might affect your friendship if you even mean what you said. He was horny, being teased all night by pretty girls in skimpy dresses, only to be denied, fucking furious too.

“Really?” He responds, somehow stepping closer to you. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you try to back up, only to be pushed against the wall by him. His stare is still cold, piercing through you. He’s still pissed at you.

“Are you still mad?” You mumbled, your back flat against the wall of his living room. You knew the answer. You just wanted him to say it. Maybe you found his mean side more attractive than you’d like to admit. It was so rare to see him like this — a usually composed man so broken.

“Yes, I’m still fucking angry. Do you want me or not?” He seethes. You squeeze your thighs together at the tone he uses. You were so pathetic, getting wet at him berating you, but any attention was good attention.

He notices your reaction, grinning to himself. “You backing down?”

You shake your head no in response.

“Beg for it then. Beg for me to fuck you. That’s what you want, right?” He says, mocking you. It’s as if he knows how deep your desire burns for him, how badly you’d do anything for him if it meant he noticed you. His hands grasp your face, his fingers squishing your cheeks together as he forces your head back against the wall so you look up at him.

“Please, Leon. Fuck me. ‘M all yours.” You plead through pursed lips. Your eyes are glossy, and he’s laughing at your desperate nature. He would have never expected his best friend to be a whiny mess within his grasp.

He lets go of your face before leaning down, capturing your lips into his for a needy kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, and a surprised gasp escapes you. Teeth clashing, you’re whimpering desperately against his lips as you entangle your fingers into his soft golden locks. His hands trail down to your hips, gripping them as he moves his body against yours.

You let out a soft moan, and he pulled apart from the passionate kiss. Both your lips are swollen and covered with your shared saliva. He continues to grope your body eagerly as he pushes you further into the wall. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear you.”

Biting your lip, you try not to let any moans slip free while he toys with your sensitive body through your clothes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip while he explores your body. He grinds his hardening cock against your crotch, and the action does little to quell the ache inside you.

Your back arches off the wall, your head tipping back as you try to buck your hips to his. Digging your nails into his shirt, he hisses slightly, but your movements don’t get past him.

“So fucking desperate,” he moans loudly.

He continues to rock his clothed erection against your cunt. The rough fabric of your pants provides enough friction through your damp underwear to your clit. Your hand clamps around your mouth shut, suppressing your whines as you near your climax.

Leon’s eyes close while he groans lowly at the pleasure coursing through him as he ruts against you. He wants so badly to feel your dripping cunt against his throbbing length. Just as you’re about to finish, he pulls away, panting, and the feeling in your core dissipates.

“I want to fuck you properly.” You’re unsure if he knew what he had just done, but with the smug look he’s giving you, you’re positive it’s on purpose.

You push yourself off the wall of his living room, and with trembling legs, you follow him to his bedroom. You were familiar with the area and used to the messy appearance while you two were either doing work or binging shows. But it’s different now, he’s going to fuck you dumb in it.

You both begin to rid yourself of your clothes once you’re inside. You’re fully nude, lying flat on Leon’s mattress, and your skin feels tacky with sweat as it clings to his soft sheets. Leon is only in his boxers, precum staining the fabric, as his strong palms spread your bent legs apart to admire your bare pussy.

You realise that this is most likely his first time seeing one other than in porn videos he jerks himself off to. He marvels at how wet you are, your folds glistening with your slick. Leaning down, he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you.

His tongue teases your entrance before slowly moving to your clit. He alternates between sucking on your sensitive nub and lapping at it slowly. He looks like he’s concentrated as he focuses on pleasing your cunt, his brows furrowed and his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs.

You can’t help the moans and sighs that slip past your lips while he eats you out. The pleasure is nearly dizzying as you grip the sheets. Your hips are bucking against his tongue, and Leon groans as you use his face. He’s not so subtly grinding against the sheets, his cock painfully hard as he fails to relieve the sensation.

Tentatively, he slurps at you, drinking in your essence. The wet, sloppy noises your cunt makes are embarrassing, but he’s obsessed with it and your taste. It’s addictive. He sucks at your clit roughly, adoring the reaction you give him. Your tummy clenches as he pays attention to your throbbing bud. Your sounds are getting more frequent as your orgasm quickly approaches you.

When you finally come undone, your thighs are quivering around his head as he revels in your release. He parts from your cunt, his lips coated in your cum like lip gloss as he licks them clean. Trying to collect yourself, your chest heaves as you pant heavily.

Leon slips his boxers down, revealing his hard-on. His cock was flushed red and dripping with precum as he stroked it. It was average in length but quite thick and prettier than you had imagined. But you shouldn’t act surprised.

You let out a whimper when he slid the tip of his cock through your folds stained with your cum and his saliva. Your pussy was overstimulated, spasming as he teased your entrance with his head.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he groans, gripping your hip to steady himself. The heat of your cunt was welcoming as it tried to suck him inside you. His tip touches your overly sensitive clit. He was quickly losing his composure, desperate to fuck you open.

You both moan simultaneously when he fully enters his length inside of you. Your walls were sucking his cock deeping into you, filling you up to the brim with nothing but him.

You had not imagined your first time with Leon like this. You daydreamed of him taking you out on a cute date before undressing you and then fucking you slowly on a bed littered with rose petals. You did not anticipate that he’d split you open on his cock as a last resort taking his sexual frustration out on you. You can’t complain with how good he’s fucking you, even if it’s out of spite.

He begins thrusting his cock in and out of tight pussy, groaning. You feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks the shape into you. You sometimes forget how well-built he is, usually concealed by his clothes, sweat dripping down his muscular frame.

“Your cock feels so fuckin’ good, Leon,” you gasped out loud, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you out of his fat cock.

“This was your plan, huh? You wanted me to fuck you, whore.” He says as he punctuates each word with a thrust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock presses against you deliciously. You did want him all to yourself, but you wouldn’t go as far as to sabotage him. You’re unable to answer him, too drunk on his cock bullying into that one spot inside of you.

“Answer me, bitch.” He huffs, gripping your jaw and positioning your face to his. He looks into your eyes only to note how they can barely stay open. His hips stutter at your fucked out expression. He was so fucking close, his abs flexing, only holding out so you can cum first.

“Y- Yeah, Leon. Want to you all for myself,” you stammer incoherently, tears collecting at your waterline as he pounds into your oversensitive cunt. Your walls grip around his cock sporadically as you near your climax.

“You like me too, then?” he mocks through clenched teeth. Your pussy hugs him tightly, and he thinks he might never want to leave your warm embrace.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, your body squirming in his hold. Your peak was rapidly approaching as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“Answer the question then you can come,” he whines, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, leaving marks as he nears his peak.

“Mhm! Yes, I’ve always fucking liked you, Leon.” You cried out, eager to expose all your secrets to him if it meant you came. As you climax, your pussy milks Leon’s cock as it gushes around him.

“Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum,” Leon moans, his voice breathy as his orgasm crashes after yours. He doesn’t know if it’s the weight of your confession or the whimpers that escape your throat that send butterflies in him as he spills into you. He kisses you one last time, moaning into you as he rides his high.

Pulling out, he collapses right next to you. You’re both panting, covered in cum and sweat. A wave of exhaustion overcomes you, and you hope he doesn’t bring up what you said amidst fucking. You’re content pretending it didn’t happen if it meant you wouldn’t get to face your fears.

“Thank you for uh,” Leon trails off, and it's like a switch flipped. He’s bashful at mentioning that he had just lost his virginity as if he wasn’t calling you a whore a few minutes ago. Turning to his side, you come nearly face-to-face with him once again.

“Mhm, you’re welcome, I think.” You’re still unsure how you feel about the situation. Finally, you had fucked him, but what significance did it hold to him? Your eyes flutter shut, sleep finally overcoming your wrecked body. You expected the same would happen to Leon, but you were wrong. Leon was in deep thought.

Leon calls your name, cutting your sleep short. You snap your eyes open, sitting up, you await his question with your arms crossed. He looked uneasy, but you’re too drained to question why.

“Did you mean what you said? That you liked me.” His voice is quiet as he gazes at your form.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled in response. What was even the point of lying anymore? His cum was dripping between your thighs. What is the worst he can do? You think you can already guess his response. Guilt was eating at you. He wouldn’t be in this position if you did what he wanted. You added, “Sorry for fucking up your night.”

It’s quiet, and you’re nervously trying to gauge his reaction until he breaks the silence.

“I think I found someone better,” he responds. You laugh at the mere absurdity of the entire situation.

“It took fucking me to find that out?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #gender neutral reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil #re4 smut #idk how to do conclusions #✩‧₊˚ fics

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honeekyuu · 5 months ago

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stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

______________________________

tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you.

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse.

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough.

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying.

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling.

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

Fuck Tsukishima Kei .

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you.

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum.

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random.

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!”

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?”

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it.

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?”

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?”

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given.

Now he feels like he’s losing you.

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you.

That’s what this is about?

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much.

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -”

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down.

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh.

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ”

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning.

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest.

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him.

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard.

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit.

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?”

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly.

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.”

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe.

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message.

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?”

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further.

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath.

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut

1K notes · View notes

yapperblog · 3 months ago

Text

Thought you'd hate me

but instead you called and said I miss you

Tags: unresolved feelings, a little big of angst, she fell first but he fell harder, smut +18 only, softdom!joost, fem!reader, fingering, riding, unprotected PinV.

RPF below don't interact if you are not comfortable with that

You sigh as you find yourself in front of his door. Again. In the message he sent at 3:15 AM he told you the door will be open, but you still ring the doorbell. After no one opens it, you feel a slight nervous shiver down your spine. You decide to leave the dilemma of your weak morals for tomorrow, you are already here, might as well see where the night leads you. You reach for the handle and open it.

"Hello?" you say as you enter his apartment.

You turn to twist the lock on the door, a familiar smell envelops you. Not much has changed since the last time you've been here. More often you have been rushed past his front door, already tangled in a kiss, tearing at each others clothes. This time you weirdly want to look around and take it all in, you are still not sure if this is the last time you walk past his doorstep, but you want to remember it.

You and Joost have a messy history. It all started so simple, you met through a mutual friend and found out you two have a lot in common. As soon as you started talking, you knew something special could brew from this. It was so easy to be next to him, every bit of attention from him was intoxicating.

You also found out you live a walking distance from each other, which led to you two hanging out more often outside of the friend group. After one drunk night out, just the two of you, one thing led to another and you ended up on his lap, hands wrapped in each other's hair, having the best sex of your life. Your relationship turned into friends with benefits, never crossing into anything more even after a year. You did everything a couple would do together, but never put a label on it. Due to him traveling a lot and focusing on music, you felt he didn't want a serious relationship, so when he asked what you thought about dating, you just brushed it off, not wanting to be a burden to him.

You did this often. You were so overprotective of your feelings, you wouldn't let anyone near, in case they hurt you emotionally, which from your past experiences - they usually did. So you learnt to end things before you get too attached. You knew it was too late, he was the best partner you've had. So thoughtful, caring, funny, incredible sex, but you could just not open up to him the same way he did to you. It hurt, but gradually you made an effort to see him less, you would decline his invitations to hang out, until one day you just simply ignored his message to come over.

Until today, when you saw him again at a friend's birthday party. You knew he got back from tour already and would be at that party. You were nervous to see him again, but to skip it would be even worse. You immediately spotted him, even in a room full of people, somehow you could always tell where he was, your eyes just gravitated towards him. When eventually, after mingling with different people, you ended up in the same circle, he made it seem so easy to see you again, like it was no big deal. You felt a sting of pain, but you couldn't be upset, you were the one to push him away. So, you came to a conclusion that you made the right decision, if it is so easy for him to move on, it is better this way. You stayed until the end of the party, everyone got pretty drunk, your heart still felt heavy knowing he is close, but at the same time so far away, and it was all your fault for pushing away the one good thing you had.

You got back home around 3 AM. You were ready for bed, until you got a notification. You checked your phone and saw it was a text from Joost.

"Come in." his voice brings you back to your current situation. You notice a warm glow from the nightstand lamp coming from around the corner, where his bedroom is.

Your legs start walking as if by themselves, you don't remember making that decision. His voice just draws you in.

You stop by the doorframe, leaning against it. You take in the sight of him. Only one nightstand lamp is turned on, you remember your shared hatred of overhead big light. He is laying on the bed, his legs swaying off the side of it. His jeans are halfway unzipped, low on his hips, the belt undone and shirt half unbuttoned, like he couldn't decide what to take off first and gave up on both. He must be as drunk as you are now, he should look like a mess, but he doesn't. He always managed to look clean, one of the many things you liked about him. He turns his head to look at you and you notice a cigarette hanging from his lips.

He got into a bad habit of smoking in bed, you used to joke he would end up living in one of those houses that have yellow walls from the constant smoking.

"You should start locking your door." you say, your arms crossed, leaning against the door frame. You want to look nonchalant, like your heart isn't trying to get out of your chest.

"I don't usually leave it open." he says, his voice raspy, like it usually got when he was drunk. "Only on special occasions." he puts one hand behind his head not to crane his neck to see you better.

"Have a lot of special occasions?" you ask. You do wonder if he was with anyone in the time you haven't seen each other.

He huffs in amusement and turns to look at the ceiling. You think he looks so pretty, just laying there.

"Come here." his voice barely above a whisper, but he knows you will hear. You always do, sometimes he thinks you can hear his thoughts, his deepest secrets.

You don't move from your place, your hands crossing tighter on your chest. The distance you want to keep breaks his heart, he needs to stop this feeling and distract himself. He reaches for the lighter in the pocket of his jeans.

"Joost, open the window at least." you say softly before he lights the cigarette. It is not your place to tell him what to do, but you still care.

He smiles and remembers your joke about the yellow walls. Always so quick with a funny remark. He misses it. He sits down on the bed, his movements slow. He zips up his pants and puts the belt back on, his hands fumbling trying to put it through the loops. With his shirt still half unbuttoned, he stands up and walks past you, around the bed and heads towards the window. There is a chair next to it already, you notice a sketchbook you got him on the windowsill by an ashtray. You never saw this little routine of his, you imagine him drawing next to an open window, a cigarette in his hand. You want to flip through it.

He sits on the chair, lighting a cigarette. "Will you come in now?"

You finally walk in and head towards the bed. You prop yourself against the bedframe. His bed is as comfortable as you remember, you even bought the same duvet and pillow set he has, but you swear it still doesn't feel as good his. Maybe you expected it to come with that familiar aftershave smell, which of course it didn't.

"What did you want to talk about?" you break the silence.

"Us." he says quickly. Always honest and straight to the point.

"What about us?" your eyes focus on him. His legs are crossed, a light breeze coming from the window tussling his hair.

"You have been ignoring me and I want to know why. I really don't understand what I did wrong."

"I told you we should have ended this a long time ago." you did tell him this in the last time message you sent him. But he wasn't going to accept that, so he walked to your apartment, when you opened the door, you could barely even look at him. Very abruptly you told him you need to stop seeing each other, it's not healthy for the both of you. He was so confused at the sudden change, he couldn't even come up with anything to say in defence. He thought you must have met someone else, you haven't promised each other anything, but he felt betrayed. So he turned around and left.

"Why did you come then?" he asks, looking at you intensely.

"I knew you were drunk after the party and would pass out on the bed, I didn't want you to sleep with the front door open." you come up with an excuse. He has always been like an open book with you, however you are now doubting yourself if you've read him correctly. It was you who was scared of the relationship and deeper feelings, not him. You realise the huge mistake you made all those months ago.

"You know..." he takes another drag of the cigarette. "I really used to think I had you figured out. And then you pulled that surprise on me. Really took me for a spin." he points to his head with the hand that has a cigarette in between his two fingers.

"Have to keep you on your toes, you know. You always said you wouldn't like the simple life." you try to joke. The room is silent for a second, you are worried, did you overstep, will he find it inappropriate. But he laughs with his whole chest, the tension resolving a little bit. If you can joke about it, he feels he still has a chance to fix things out between you.

"So why did you come?" his voice more relaxed now.

You both know the answer, he wants to hear you say it, but you are willing to drag this game a little longer. "You've got a great view from your apartment. I missed it."

He laughs again. You realise it might be your favorite sound in the world. He blows the smoke out of the window, then turns to look back at you. "You missed the view?"

"Yeah." you try to keep a straight face.

"It is a nice view." he looks out of the window. "I don't think you see it well from the bed though." he puts a cigarette in between his lips. "You should come closer to enjoy it." he beckons you closer with his hand. He tries to act cool, to hide the fact that you also still make him nervous, like it's the first time you met and he is trying so hard to win you over, to see you smile at something he said.

You stand up from the bed, and slowly make your way towards the window, you cross your arms to shield yourself from the breeze and lean in against the windowsill admiring the view. You can faintly see your own window from here, you wonder if he ever tried to see you. You can feel him next to you even without looking at him, your legs almost touching. You can almost feel the heat radiating from him, always so warm, even on coldest nights. You miss the feeling of him under your hands.

Slowly as if careful not scare you away, like a cat, he stands up and comes to stand next to you. Neither of you speak for a while, enjoying a silent night, it feels so natural to be next to each other. The months apart and previous tension slowly melting away. He notices you shiver.

He stubs out the cigarette in an ashtray and stands up to reach for a hoodie hanging on the back of the chair. "Here, put this on."

You turn to face him and he puts the hoodie around your shoulders. His hands brushing your exposed shoulders and arms in the process. A sigh leaves you, which he catches.

"Better?" he asks.

"I think this is the first time you put more clothes on me in this room and not the other way around." you joke.

"You are probably right." he laughs and you feel him physically relax. Humour has always been a common ground for the both of you to get more comfortable.

"I missed this." he confesses, his voice quiet. "I missed us." he reaches to put a strand of your hair behind your ear. As soon as he touches you, he studies your face, trying to see if it's okay.

You touch his hand. "I miss it too." you say and turn to look outside of the window again, you feel so stupid for the way you handled things. He moves to stand behind you, slowly wraps him arms around your waist, giving you space to retreat if you want. You don't. It feels so good to have him close again. You lean into his touch. He puts his head on your shoulder, next to your face.

"How did it take us so long to find each other again?" he asks, happy you didn't deny his embrace.

"I'm sorry" you say and you mean it with your whole heart.

He moves to sit back down on the chair and you turn to look at him. "So, is the view everything you remembered?" he says with a smirk.

"It might have become even better." you say and walk up to him, he spreads his legs to let you in even closer.

He looks up at you, his eyes are so blue even in the dim light. You place your arms on his shoulders. He hugs you around your middle, and puts his face on your stomach. You slowly brush his hair, enjoying the closeness of him.

"Have you been with anyone?" he asks, afraid to hear the answer.

You tried, you had a date planned with this guy you met at work, but you didn't end up going. It didn't feel right.

"No." you say honestly. "Have you?"

He is still holding you close to him, "I kissed someone." he says.

You shut your eyes. Your confidence slightly falling apart, the self-doubt creeping back in, he can move on and eventually will.

He feels you go solid under his arms and continues "But all I could think was you. It was not long after you broke things off with me. I was mad at you, I kept looking for things to distract myself with. I was mad that you wouldn't leave my head. Mad at the light I could see coming from your window" he looks up at you, his hands on your hips. "So I kissed this girl, who seemed interested in me, and all I could taste was you."

You look into his eyes, he looks so vulnerable like this, all you wish for is to go back in time and change everything, but you can't. You wait for him to continue.

A small laugh escapes him. "I ran away from her. I ran all the way home. It's embarrassing, I never figured out how to forget you." he hides his face into your stomach again, you smell just like he remembers. If he could freeze time and stay like this forever, you running your hands through his hair and so close to him, he would.

"Joost" you let out a breath you were holding. "You don't understand how sorry I am. The amount of pain I caused both us" you voice breaks and he looks up at you. "I don't know how I can ever fix this mistake I made."

"Baby." his hands on your hips move in soothing motions. "Come here" he says and this time you do, he moves you to sit on his thigh, your legs stay in between his.

Your face is right next to his, you can't stop looking at him. His stubble has grew in a little. You put your hand on the side of his face, he immediately leans into it, chasing your touch. All the walls you both tried to put up, crumbling completely. You close the distance between you, your lips moving against his, he wraps his arms around your waist, your chest now closer to his. One of your hands is holding his shoulder, the other is on the nape of his neck. He licks your bottom lip, asking you to open your mouth, you do and his tongue explores your mouth. He missed you in his arms so much, now he can't get enough, he can still taste the cocktail he saw you drink at the party. You feel him groan into your mouth as you pull at his hair, remembering how much he likes it.

You pull apart to catch your breath. You smile and wipe his lips, shiny with your lip gloss, it makes you throb between your legs, that it is your gloss on his lips. You close your legs looking for at least a slight friction, he moves his hand to your thigh, squeezing the soft skin, which startles a moan from you. It makes him twitch in his pants, you sound so much better than the scenarios he kept replaying in his head late at night, his hand moving in a fast pace under the covers, wrapped tightly around his dick, trying to imitate the tight squeeze of your pussy around him.

He moves his hand under your knee, moving you to sit on his lap your back to his chest. He spreads his legs, moving yours apart too.

"I want you." he feels so warm against your back, you can feel an outline of his hardening dick through his jeans pocking at your lower back.

"You have me." he says leaning closer to your ear. He stays close and leans into your hair, kissing softly. You swear you can feel him sniff your hair and moan quietly. This is not the first time you notice him doing it, he denied it the one time you asked him about it, but it turns you on even more. He leans in to kiss your shoulder, placing open mouth kisses to your neck. He bites gently on your skin, you hold his bicep by your side. You need something to ground yourself or you feel like you will float away, his mouth feels so good on you. His hands move from your thighs under your top.

"Is this okay?" he asks, you feel his hot breath on your shoulder.

"Yes." you reply. He smiles and places another kiss, his hands continuing to move under your top caressing your skin. He hasn't done anything yet, but you already feel how aroused you are, your panties sticking to you. His heavy breathing so close to you, only making you even more hot. The open window next to you is of no help. You feel him everywhere, but also want to speed things up.

"Touch me, please." you plead. Your needy voice feels like music to his ears.

"A little bit of patience." his hands move to cup you through your lacy bra. He massages your tits, feeling your nipples harden, you moan and cover your mouth with your hand. "So sensitive." he murmurs. He wants to watch you unravel for him just by touching your nipples, but decides to stash this idea for another time. He hopes there will be another. He moves your bra down to reveal you fully to him and continues his ministrations twisting and pinching your nipples, squeezing your soft skin, until you are writhing on top of him. Your ass moving right against his now fully hard dick, but he can wait.

"Let me hear you." he moves your hand away, which was covering your mouth.

"But the window" your voice is weak.

"Everyone else can also know how good I am making you feel." his hands move to the plush of your thighs, makes sure to push them apart. "Keep them like this, love" he tells and you nod. He pushes your skirt up, moving his hands higher up your inner thighs, your head falls on his shoulder while you let out a soft moan. There is already a wet pre-cum spot forming in his boxers from all the sounds he is pulling from you.

He swipes a finger in between your folds through your panties. "So wet." he says quietly, sitting up straighter, pulling you up with him by wrapping a hand around your middle. He moved his neck to see his hand in between your legs better. He spreads his legs even further, your hips are so wide apart, you feel a breeze touch your wetness, as he moves your panties to the side.

"Were you this excited to see the view?" he says feeling how wet you are. You can't even come up with anything to joke back as he finds your clit and starts moving his finger in slow circles around it, applying slight pressure.

You moan holding his wrist, your head still resting on his shoulder.

"Feels good?" he asks, you can hear him smiling.

"So good." you say and he speeds up his finger pulling even more delicious sounds from you. He wonders if anyone can actually hear you, would the neighbours complain, but decides it is worth it seeing that you don't mind. His finger moves lower through your folds, collecting the wetness as he circles around your hole. He feels it clench around nothing and you whine at his teasing.

"Shh, I've got you." he puts one finger inside of you. You feel so tight around him, he puts in a second finger and starts to make scissoring motions to stretch you for him.

You start to feel the pleasure building, moving to hold his bicep for support. You turn your neck to the side trying to find his lips. He lowers his head towards yours and you collide in a heated kiss. He puts in a third finger in and speeds up his motions, swallowing your moans.

"I'm so close." you turn to look at his fingers disappearing between your legs reaching deeper than yours ever could. Your skirt bunched up, legs spread wide, his hand that is wrapped around your middle is now applying pressure to your lower stomach, you must look a mess, but this is the most beautiful sight to him. His brows are in a frown, focused on a task at hand, so lost in bringing you pleasure.

"Cum for me. Cum on my fingers" he says and you feel the band snap and release on his fingers. Intense pleasure spreading all over your body. Your back arches, as he lets you ride your orgasm.

He pulls out his fingers, shiny with your slick and brings them to his mouth, licking it clean. You hear him groan, as you are still feeling aftershocks from your orgasm. It has been so long, you forgot how good he is at listening to your body, knowing exactly what you need.

He kisses your temple, as his lips slowly reach yours. The kiss is not rushed this time, tender. His lips feel soft against yours. You leave his tight embrace to stand up. Standing in front of him you take off your top, as well as your bra, which is still pulled down, revealing your chest to him and kneel in between his legs. You slide your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles tense under your touch and reach for his belt. You quickly undo it, unzip his jeans while looking into his eyes, he is watching your every move. You reach to take off his jeans, he lifts his hips to help you and kicks them off, leaving them in a pile next to your top.

"Take off this too." he points at your skirt as he reaches for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the windowsill. You stand in front of him, placing your hands on the zipper of your skirt and pull it down slowly, making a show of shimmying it down your legs. Your panties are next. His eyes never leave you as he sits with his legs spread only in his half unbuttoned shirt and boxers, he lights the cigarette and takes a drag blowing smoke away from you towards the window.

"So beautiful." he can't stop looking at you.

Meanwhile you are thinking the same about him. You want to take a photo right now. He is leaned against the back of the chair, you can see an outline of his hard and waiting dick, the collar of his shirt reveals his chest hair. He brings a cigarette to his lips, the end of it glowing as he takes a long drag. You want to remember this forever.

You come closer to him, he leaves the cigarette hanging between his lips, as he puts both of his hands on the backs of your thighs and brings you flush against him and looks up at you. You can't help but giggle at how good he looks and all for you. You start to unbutton his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders. Once again you kneel in between his legs, your hands reach the waistband of his underwear and you look up at him for confirmation. He nods and you take them off, his dick springs up free and rests against his lower stomach, leaving a wet spot of his own pre-cum. He looks like a dream come true.

"Show me how much you've missed me" he says, his voice raspy from the cigarette and his arousal.

You move to straddle him. You take his dick into your hand, he sighs at your touch immediately. He needs this he needs to know you want him as much as he wants you. You spread his pre-cum around his length, moving your hand slowly up and down, twisting your wrist on his head, moving your thumb through the slit. He groans loudly. "Yes, just like this." You always loved how vocal he is during intimate moments. One of his hands is holding a cigarette, the other is on your hip, holding tight. You lean in to kiss along his jaw moving down to his neck, listening to his soft moans, as you keep touching his dick. You continue kissing his neck, he feels you start to suck on his skin about to leave a love bite, but you stop abruptly.

"Can I?" you ask unsure if he would want you to leave marks. You both know each others bodies so well, but this feels new at the same time.

"Please do." his head falls back, giving you more space. You lick up his throat and leave a few marks along your kisses. You smile at your work, this will be a fun reminder in the morning.

You decide not to tease him any longer, you want to feel him inside right this second. You lift yourself up using his shoulders for support, he is holding a cigarrete in one hand, and puts the other under your ass spreading your folds apart, helping you lower yourself onto him. You hold his dick and hover above him, swiping the head a couple of time to cover him in your slick. You are still wet from your previous climax, so it's easier to take him in. You both let out a moan as you start to lower yourself onto him, your walls stretching to accommodate his length.

"You are so tight." he puts a cigarette in between his lips and starts to circle your clit carefully aware of your recent climax, not to overstimulate you. "Relax for me baby." the words coming out funny due to the cigarette hanging from his mouth. You take the cigarette and take a drag yourself. You inhale, keep it in for a while and then blow the smoke in his face slowly. He watches you and you can feel him twitch inside of you.

You pass the cigarette back to him, when he is fully inside of you. You start to lift yourself up and lower back down, setting a steady rhythm, trying to bring him as much pleasure as you can.

His pupils are blown wide, the blue irises barely visible, he is so hard, he could cum right now. But he wants this to last. One of his hands leaves your hips, he leans on the back of the chair and smokes, enjoying the view. Your head is thrown back, eyes shut, tits bouncing, you reach to pinch your nipple and clench around him. He thinks you look so good right now, lost in pleasure, this is what heaven must feel like. He can't ever loose you again.

"Good girl. Making me feel so good." he praises you and feels you clench even harder, as you continue moaning and moving on his length. He moves his gaze from your face, down your body and watches himself disappear between your folds, a mix of your arousal pooling at the base of him.

"I'm so close, Joost." you whine bouncing on him.

He wraps a hand around your back and reaches to put the cigarette out in the ashtray. Now both his hands free, he takes hold of your hips to help you move on him. He starts kissing your neck, and matches your moves with his own thrusts.

You feel him so deep inside of you, you scream in pleasure, as he starts to move you faster on him, holding you by your hips.

"Fuck. You feel so good." he is breathing heavy against your chest, his own climax getting closer. He brings his thumb up to your lips, you open your mouth and suck on his finger. "The things you do to me" he sighs at the picture before him. He hopes he remembers this forever. You swipe your tongue around his finger and he pulls it out, wet with your spit bringing it to your clit and starts to draw fast circles.

He leans in to whisper to you. "I think you were made for me." Somehow he always knew what to say to make you melt under him. It's like he knows exactly what you are worried about in that exact moment.

Your back arches, he puts an arm on your back to hold you. He feels you clench around him rapidly and with a loud moan you cum on him.

"That's it. That's my girl." his own rhythm becoming more sporadic. "Just a little longer. I'm right there." he starts to chase his own release.

"Where do you want me?" he asks feeling himself getting closer.

"Inside." you feel overstimulated, but still it feels so good. "Please." your nails on his shoulders are bound to leave red marks from how hard you are holding on to him.

After a few more wild thrusts, he pulls you flush against him and you feel him release into you. Some of his cum spilling out of you. You put your forehead against his, breathing heavily into each other's mouths, trying to come back to your senses.

He holds you close to him. "I'm glad you read my text today."

"Me too. And I really am sorry, Joost. I hope you can forgive me."

"Let's talk in the morning. We will figure everything out, yes?" he asks bringing your face closer to him, to look into your eyes.

"Yes."

"Can you stay over tonight? or do you want me to walk you home?" he asks.

"I don't think I can walk right now, Joost" you laugh.

"That was incredible, wasn't it?" he laughs too.

You start to stand up with a wince when he pulls out. He cleans you up and you fall asleep on his bed. The pillow still more comfortable than your own. You will try to figure your feelings for each other in the morning.

#joost klein #joost klein smut #joost klein rpf #joost klein x reader #yapperwrites

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freak-accident419 · 5 months ago

Text

playing cards

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

(gif by @joshfutturman) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | More parts coming soon

Summary: When his mother hosts a party and expects him to bring a proper date, Derek is obligated to comply. Not wanting to disappoint her any further (mainly driven by the rumor of her cutting him off), Derek recruits his best friend to pose as his fake partner. However, the two have to keep up this lie when a series of constant, luxurious events are held, causing several shenanigans to ensue.

Word Count: 3.7k

Content: gender-neutral reader, swearing, reader is his best friend, Derek’s mommy issues, fake dating

Ao3 Link

(A/n: this is my first miniseries!! I will also be posting this on Ao3, so please show your support there as well. Thank you to everybody who showed me love and support. Special thanks to Skye especially :) enjoy!!)

“Uh, yeah, I’ll have a flat white with oat milk. You know, the usual.”

For the most part, Derek would go about his usual schedule, which deprived of responsibility and stress. In fact, his recent routine invariably consisted of privileged luxuries, little to no work tasks, and drunken parties every night.

Phone in hand, Derek skated through the office on his skateboard as he waited for the drink that he ordered at the coffee bar. He checked for any texts until he swiped out of the Messages app to surf through his social media. And as he tapped through his friends’ stories on Instagram, video footage that caused Derek to reminisce the events of last night’s party took over his screen.

It was a typical night out for him, actually. He would invite his group of friends to clubs or venues and indulge in the colorful strobe lights, bass-boosted music, and alcoholic drinks. You had always tagged along with him, as you were his best friend, getting drunk and partying together. Every night, he would get abysmally wasted and driven home by his employees. Ultimately, “reckless” was nearly an understatement to describe Derek Danforth—alongside irresponsible and hedonistic.

He smirked at the Instagram stories that his friends had posted of him taking a body shot off of a skimpy stripper. Ultimately, you took the best video of the scene because unlike the other posted videos, the camera was much clearer and barely shaking. Chuckling to himself as he hears your voice chanting for him in the video, he tucked his phone back in his pocket and skated back to the counter to retrieve his coffee.

“Flat white with oa—”

“Beautiful, thank you,” he replies dismissively, grabbing the cup that the worker handed him and continued to skate along the hallway, past several other employees.

Expecting the next hour to be full of pampering and Tibetan singing bowls, a stern, yet familiarly lavish voice suddenly stops him in his tracks.

“Derek.” The young billionaire stiffens at the sound of his name being called. “May I have a word?”

An irritated sigh left Derek’s lips as he stood still on his skateboard, neglecting to turn his head around to face the older man. He then rolls his eyes and finally got off of his skateboard, kicking it up in his hand.

***

“You have to clean up your act, young man,” Westwyld states as Derek slouches pettishly in his chair.

Great. It was just another one of his needless lectures again. Why did he even bother? From the moment Derek walked into Westwyld’s dreadful office, he already sensed that he would be given another ‘serious talk’ from the man who tries to act like his father after having a romantic past with his mom.

In response to his useless demand, Derek scoffs with a smug curl on his lips, taking a short drag from his vape pen. It was almost amusing to him that Wallace believed his lectures would give him the slightest motivation to “do better.”

“Isn’t your job covering up my ‘fuckups’? Keeping me out of the tabloids and the headlines, keeping my reputation clean?” He sneered, impatient with the predictable redundancy that Westwyld brought onto him. “Isn’t that all you’re good for?”

Westwyld sighs, not very keen on having to explain himself for the thousandth time. “Derek, my job is to keep Danforth Enterprises safe, to keep your mother safe. Her reputation, her name. For thirty-five years, I worked as the director of the world’s intelligence agency, but I chose this job as a favor to your mother.”

Derek rolled his eyes carelessly. It was the same, bothersome routine when Wallace would scold him and then run his mouth about how he could have had any other job, but chose security for Danforth Enterprises for the sake of President Jessica Danforth.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you tell me this for, like, a billion fucking times,” Derek retorts with a harsh scoff, “You know what, I don’t have the fucking time for this.”

He stood up instantly, storming off until Wallace’s next words made him freeze, bringing a chill up his spine.

“Your mother’s thinking of cutting you off, you know that?”

Derek processed Westwyld’s words for a second, sensing the threat behind it. His own mother wouldn’t do that to him. She completely adores him. Right? It was just another empty threat—everything had always worked out for Derek in the long run. So he kept his cool as always, scoffing in disbelief with a breathy chuckle. “Um, no. No, she’s not. She wouldn’t.” He turned around to face Wallace, walking back up to him.

“Everybody’s talking about it, Derek. A rumor, you would call it, but she spoke to her advisers. Money may play a big role in the grand scheme of things, but public image as well. I cannot keep covering for you, Derek. The endless social media posts of your immature, juvenile actions, the soirées, the strippers, it’s getting out of control,” Wallace spat sourly, evidently sick of Derek’s shenanigans and recklessness. “Even the tiniest information can spill, and your reputation will grow rotten. And your reputation is your mother’s. I won’t let you take this risk, Derek, you need to clean up your act now.”

***

Derek left Westwyld’s office slightly pissed, sipping his coffee as he rode through the hallway once again in his skateboard. Suddenly he felt his phone buzzing, so he grabbed it out of his pocket to look who was calling him.

Well, shit. Speak of the fucking devil.

It was his mother.

Taking a deep breath, Derek stared at the contact name and gulped nervously before finally clicking ‘accept’.

“Hi, Mom… What’s, um… What’s up?”

For the first time ever in Derek’s life, one of Westwyld’s lectures actually intimidated him.

Jessica Danforth was an incredibly busy woman. Hell, she was the President of the United States for fuck’s sake, there was no way she would call up her son for something casual. It had to be for something urgent, which inevitably provoked fear in him—all he could think about was getting disinherited. “Hi, Derek,” she says into the phone, sort of in a disappointed sigh. “I was just checking in, making sure you are able to attend the party on Saturday evening. You are able to come, yes?”

Derek let out a soft, gratified breath, relieved that his mother wasn’t calling him to discuss his reputation and financial situation. But either way, it seemed that he was still in deep shit; Derek forgot all about that party.

His mother spoke about it several times in the past, inviting him almost an entire month ago. She made it very clear about how important it was to her, but Derek was completey oblivious to it. It was either some kind of gala or charity event, but he’d been too baked recently to even remember.

“O-oh, um, party, right, that party…” he replies dubiously, the information barely coming back to his mind. “Yeah, um, yeah, of course.” He blinks for a moment, trying to remember the information about the party. Right. It was some kind of charity auction. Raising money for a good cause. Extremely tasteful and elegant, the kind of boring parties that Derek was never a fan of.

“Alright. Good,” she says briefly. Jessica bit her bottom lip hesitantly. “Derek, there’s something I also need to mention.”

Oh shit, here it is. The slight panic returned to him once again. He wasn’t sure how he was going to take it.

“Oh, and, um, what’s—what’s that, Mom?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and trying to sound calm.

“Your… your public image has been in a very rough state lately, especially with all of the partying posts that your friends shared online. The hard drinking and the strippers, Derek, it’s just… It’s affecting how your investors and all these businessmen perceive you. They won’t take you seriously with all of your recklessness. Just… Settle down or something. Find a really nice girl, or boy, or whoever, and take them out to dinner,” she urges. “I want you to stop partying and… hooking up with strangers so much. Please be presentable at the party, Derek. I’d—I’d even be pleased if you were able to bring a date.”

Derek didn’t process the words the moment they left his mouth abruptly, blurting out a blatant lie. “Actually, that’s what I was going to bring up. I actually have a date to the party.” Shit. No. No, you don’t, you fucking idiot.

“What?” She asks curiously, completely taken aback. “Are you serious, Derek?”

“Yeah! And, um, we’ve been serious for a long time, but uh… yeah, they are helping me become a better, uh, man, and I will no longer be reckless. My reputation will be restored, so no drastic measures have to be done,” he says, digging himself in a deeper hole as he tries to indirectly convince his mother that she shouldn’t cut him off. If those rumors were to be true, at least.

“Well… Derek, if you’ve been seeing them for a long time already, then what was that scandalous video clip of you and that… that stripper, posted everywhere online?” She questions, thinking to herself about the logistics of Derek’s situation.

“Oh yeah, that was—see, that was an old video. People have just been reposting it recently, you know the algorithm. I—Actually, I, uh, I met my partner on the day after that video was taken, and they, uh, yeah, they convinced me to be a better man, donate to charity, all that… philanthropy shit—uh, stuff.” Derek had attempted to simultaneously make his mother believe he had a respectable date to the party, as well as being a much better person than he was before.

“Which was when?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Uh, like.. gotta be a few months ago, give or take,” he answers briefly.

“Alright, and who is this date of yours?” She finally asks.

“Oh, right, that would, um, that would be my partner,” he answers in a mumble, nodding to himself with clarity.

“Derek,” she sighs exasperatedly.

“Oh. Their name? Their name, you mean? Their name is, uhh, umm… Actually, I would love to surprise you, Mom!” He answers immediately.

“Seriously?” She scoffs with a disappointed sigh. Jessica knew her son like the back of her hand. Hell, she birthed the kid, having to push out his dumb, big head out of her snatch. The point was, she could always sense when he was lying, or at least when there was something fishy. Sadly, she frequently expected very less of him, unbeknownst to Derek.

“Yeah, Mom! Trust me, they’re really kind and they’re a good person, and I am—I am just thrilled to introduce the two of you,” he exaggerates pridefully, hoping to eventually sell it.

“I worry about you, Derek,” she sighs softly. “Fine… Fine, whatever, Derek, I’ll see them at the party. Please promise me that. Just… Just be good, okay?”

Derek smiled to himself. “I will. And I promise. I won’t disappoint you. I love you, Ma.”

“I love you too.”

***

“I am so royally fucked,” Derek states bluntly.

Later on in the evening, Derek was hanging out with you as always, at the club you two would habitually meet up at. You were his best friend for many years already and earned the position of being his right-hand man ever since you first met in college.

“Why? What did you do this time?” You reply lazily, sipping your drink. You always expected bullshit from Derek. He always got himself into trouble that he would make other people fix. It wasn’t very bothersome to you, personally. You enjoyed hanging out with him and his privilege was just a big bonus.

“Well… So, I was speaking with Wallace—”

“Ew—”

“Yeah, I know,” he scoffs. “As I was saying… The guy pulled me into his office and, get this? There’s a whole fuckin’ rumor that my mom is going to cut me off.”

“What?” You perked up, sitting up from your previous slouching position and looked at Derek seriously. “No way. That—No, that’s not true. You’re—You’re a full-time Mama’s Boy, the fucking suck-up of the century, there’s no way she would do that to you!”

Derek shrugged as he sipped his bourbon, the blue lights in the bar beginning to give him a headache. “Yeah, well… Remember that… that super dope video of me drinking a shot from that one stripper’s belly button? What was her name?”

You bit the inside of your cheek in deep thought. “Vixen?”

“No, she was last week’s. Was it Trixie?”

“No, that was way back during the New Year’s Eve party,” you recalled.

“Candy? No…”

Enthusiastically, you slapped the wooden surface of the counter with your palm. “Tiffany!”

“Yes, fuck, it was Tiffany!” Derek exclaimed. “Okay, well, you recall all those videos of her and me posted everywhere, right?”

“Hell, yeah! I had the best fucking recording, man,” you chuckle softly, thinking about the wild night before.

“Yeah, you did,” he slightly smiled, “but, uh… It’s getting viral and well… I don’t fuckin’ know why Wallace can’t do more cover-up shit for me, but because I’m ‘ruining my reputation’ with this, it’s gonna give my mom a bad reputation too? So, like… Wallace said there was talk about her… cutting me off the inheritance or whatever.”

“Shit…” you blew a low whistle, raising an eyebrow. “That’s… That’s really tough, man. Look, I’m sure that there’s a reason why it was solely a rumor and she’s not actually thinking of that. She loves you, you’re the last physical form of proof of your dad, and ultimately, you’re a manipulative suck-up. You’re not getting cut off anytime soon, dude.”

Derek scoffs, pinching his eyebrows together. “Well, its too late because I sorta fucked up a bit more.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? How?”

“My mom was so insistent about me getting a date to the party this weekend and I think she believes that me being in an exclusive, healthy relationship or whatever would improve my reputation,” he explains, humming a small mutter of gratitude as a bartender walked over to refill his drink. “So… I lied and told her that I had a date already. And that I’ve been dating them for a few months already and they’re helping me improve so that she would have no reason to cut me off.”

“But like… the video of you and Tiff—”

“I know the video of me and Tiff!” He exclaims in frustration. “I told her that video was filmed a long time ago and people are just reposting it, or something.”

“Okay, right,” you nod, trying to get a sense of his train of lies. “So, what, did she believe you?”

“I don’t… I don’t fuckin’ know,” he mumbles, “I can’t tell. But I told her I would bring them to the party as a surprise and I couldn’t even come up with a name or anything.”

You groan, putting your head in your hands before taking another sip of your alcohol. “Derek, you are a total idiot. What are… So—so, who are you gonna pull up to the party with? A fuckin’ cardboard cutout of fuckin’… Margot Robbie and call it a night?”

“No, I’m not a dumbass, Y/n. I’ll just tell her that they couldn’t make it because they were sick or something. Better yet—they were doing some kind of modeling job in Europe,” he replies, wanting to give the impression that if he would have a romantic partner, they would be incredibly successful and beautiful. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

“That’s rich,” you scoff, wiping an eye with your finger. You were absolutely done with him. “You really think she’s going to believe that? Seriously? She’s your mom, Derek, I’m sure she can tell when you’re lying. And—and at one point, she’s going to ask for proof of photos and to actually meet them in person, and I’m sure that when she gets the news that you lied to her, she’d want to cut you off even more! Derek, you’re just digging yourself in an even deeper hole than before. You’re practically digging your own grave,” you argue.

“Fine, fine, then if she asks again, I’ll just say that they broke up with me,” he shrugged dismissively, leaning back and drinking from his glass.

“I thought the whole point was to improve your reputation, make you seem like a goddamn saint?” You retort, wiping your hand over your face in exhaustion.

He frowns. “Okay, you do have a point. Fuck. Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Why’re you asking me?” You whine with a frown.

“Because you keep correcting me on shit, clearly you must have better ideas than me,” he shrugs, looking at you expectantly.

“Well, I don’t. If I were you, I’d just cut your losses and accept that your fucking consequences have actions!” You reason fairly. “Might as well just get kicked out to the streets, having to con people for their money—oh wait, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the past few years! That’s all you do, man, I’m sorry, I can’t back you up! All you do is trick and deceive with all your lies, using people as pawns, it’s ridiculous!”

And after all that calling out, there was only one thing that the arrogant bastard got out from your outburst. His eyes lit up and you could tell that he had another stupid idea.

“Wait, Y/n, that’s it!” He exclaims brightly. “Using people!”

“Dude, I really fucking can’t with you—”

“I can get someone to pose as my fake partner for the night!” He grins.

“Yeah, I am really not liking the sound of this—”

“And get this,” he began eagerly. “You can do it.”

You feel your eyes widen as you hear Derek’s proposal. “Oh, no. No. Hell no. No, no, no, not in a million fucking years.”

“Y/n, come on,” he whines childishly. “It’ll only be for a day. You can pose as my partner at the party, impress my mom, deceive the press for a bit, and boom, I won’t even be considered getting cut off.”

You let out a prolonged groan, rolling your eyes and gulped much more of your drink than a regular sip. “Derek, she knows me. She knows I’m your best friend, she’s met me, there is no way—”

“That’s the point! I can pull some strings and shit, saying that we were friends until we, like, fell for each other or some other cheesy fuckass story. And if we want this entire charade to end after the party, a few days later I could just say that we broke up because we were more compatible as friends! No bitterness so that neither of us seem like the bad guy in the breakup. It’s the perfect fucking plan,” he explains, somehow more intricately than you would expect from him.

You pause, pondering deeply about his plan.

“Hell no.” You finally say, drinking more of your beer.

“Aw—come on, Y/n. Please. It’s only for a day. Look, my life is at fucking stake! I could lose all my fucking money, and—look—you won’t get to take advantage of my rich, privileged ass anymore. No more luxuries, no more rich parties. Come on, Y/n. Please.” His voice was pleading and you could tell he was heavily desperate. He wasn’t wrong. If the rumors were true and his mother was going to cut him off due to his recklessness and immaturity, he would lose so much money that you can’t leech off on. And of course you cared about him more than the money, he’s been your friend for years. But this whole thing seemed so complicated.

However, you were his right-hand man. His best friend since college. He relied on you. But hell, if you had to humiliate yourself for one night as Derek’s romantic partner, you should at least get something out of it.

“I wanna get paid,” you blurted.

He looked at you with an almost offended expression. “What?”

“Look, if I have to spend a night at a boring ass party, shaking the wrinkly, sweaty hands of old, ancient fucks, and having to pretend I’m your partner, I expect to be paid,” you reason, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding,” he scoffs distastefully, rolling his eyes. God, you wanted to stab a fork in them.

“No! This whole plan is so complicated and I hate you for involving me in it!” You growl, pointing at him accusingly. “What am I getting out of this? Nothing! So you might as well just pay me to do this stupid acting job.”

“You’re—You’re not serious—” he glances at your obstinate expression. “You’re fucking serious. Well, okay! Fuck, fine. How much are we talking?”

“How long is the event?” You ask, grabbing your glass up to your lips to indulge in another sip.

“Probably a few hours, I don’t know, it’s a whole fancy live charity auction event,” he shrugs carelessly, grabbing his vape from his pocket and taking a quick drag.

“Okay, then. I won’t burden you too much. Two hundred dollars,” you answer confidently.

“That’s it? Oka—”

“However,” you began with a small smirk. “If we have to be all couple-y and gross and romantic with each other, I may consider raising the price. Like, if we have to hold hands or I have to look into your eyes for more than five seconds.”

“Fine, that seems fair,” he sighs softly. “Do we have a deal?” Derek, like he always would when he’d negotiate, took out his hand in front of you.

You grimaced at it. “I really don’t wanna shake to that,” you whine, groaning to yourself. “Just one night, right?”

“One night,” he confirms.

“Staging a break up right after?”

“Yup.”

“Little to no PDA?”

“Hopefully.”

“And you’re gonna pay me five hundred bucks?”

“Yes. Wait, wh—”

Before he could protest, you shook his hand immediately, completely sealing the deal.

Having to pretend to be Derek Danforth’s romantic partner for a whole night?

Yeah, there was no way in hell that this was going to end well.

#derek danforth #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #derek danforth smut #derek danforth x you #mike schmidt x reader #clapton davis x reader #josh futturman x reader #peeta mellark x reader

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meiideryz · 8 months ago

Text

a ride home.

pairing: xiao dejun x reader

length: 1.48k

tags: alternative universe, friends <3, office au, post-celebration, rainy night, employee!xiaojun, employee!reader, fluff

warnings: implied vomiting.

dejun suppressed a laugh, waving at his intoxicated colleagues, their stumbling gait and woozy expressions hinting at the excesses of the poorly mixed cocktails they had consumed. while they stood there, his boss emerged from the scene, a briefcase in his grasp. "well done, everyone. you make me very proud of all of you."

he turned to face where their boss was standing. there was a smile lit up his face, conveying how much he enjoyed the party that everyone had meticulously planned and organized. those who remained sober, including dejun, expressed their gratitude to him for attending this special event for the company.

"i want each and everyone to get home safely, okay? see you all next week." the boss said, bidding farewell to everyone gathered in the venue before he headed out, leaving all of them behind.

dejun's other colleagues had just started undecorating and cleaning the area, and he eventually joined to help. his drunk colleagues unfortunately needed to get home before they vomit all over the place. after all, nobody wants to be cleaning up vomit at 11 o'clock in the evening.

when they soon finished, each colleague parted ways, leaving the building to go home. dejun however, had to stay behind to retrieve his valuables from the office as he remembered leaving it there, so he quickly dashed up the stairs, his steps echoing through the empty halls, climbing two floors to reach his destination.

before he left the building, he noticed that the windows were fogging up. he didn't even realize that it was raining by the time he got inside the office to get his things, and when he came down to head outside, it was still raining.

the air was cold, and dejun shivered.

he had to go inside to borrow an umbrella in the storage room before stepping back outside. the harsh downpour wasn't going to stop, and dejun had no choice but to walk to his car in the rain like this.

just when dejun was about to turn around, he noticed a figure standing in the shed. turns out it was just you, waiting for a taxi to come to drive you back to your residence. he watched you put your arms around yourself, trying to spread the warmth on your body.

there were no signs of taxis on the road, and dejun doubted that the rain would stop very soon, so gathered his courage to approach you under the shed. "hey..."

his voice filled your ears as you turned your head to see him in front of you with an umbrella in his hand.

"dejun? i thought you left already?"

"no, i left behind to get my stuff and i saw you here when i headed out," dejun responded. there was a hint of shivering in his voice because of the cold, so it made him sound like his voice kind of cracked in between his words.

"s-sorry." he cleared his throat, and he could see your lips lifting up into a smile.

"i get it," you tried to assure him from the voice crack, yet he could still see the suppressing smiles behind the hand that was covering your mouth. "it is really really cold."

to think about it, dejun also realized that you weren't wearing anything thick to keep you warm. he didn't want to be looking like a dick and leave you there under the cold hard and harsh downpour of the rain waiting for a taxi as well.

he moved closer to you as he looked into your eyes. "hey, uhm..." he paused, trying to build up the courage of approaching you like this.

"i don't think there will be taxis available in this hour and especially in this rain, so instead of waiting here, please, let me drive you home." it was a nice gesture, he wanted you to stay with him, otherwise you'd be all alone drenched in the cold rain, and he didn't want that to happen.

"really? thank you." dejun heard you say, and with that, he let his blazer gently fall from his shoulders as he placed it over your shoulders, the warmth of his blazer hugging your shivering body. he couldn't help but inhale of the citrus fragrance that lingered around him, but seeing the heat of waves rushed to your face, he quickly retracted back.

"what about you?"

"don't worry about me, dear. you're cold, and it's my job to keep you safe and warm."

after a long pause, he looked down at your hand. "may i?" he whispered to you with his hands trying to reach out for yours. when you gave permission, his own engulfed with yours, bringing you closer to him so that the umbrella could fit the two of you together.

"okay, now we run." dejun began.

he heard you laugh for a moment, and then he laughed too, both thinking that running under the downpour would be a bad idea. but none of you have a choice, it'll only get the two of you there faster.

"just don't let go, so you don't get slipped." dejun whispered. the hand intertwined with his seemed to hold tighter, he looked at you one more time, reciprocating the same tight squeeze on your hand before he counted down. "3...2..."

he watched you clutch onto the blazer he gave before you started running together towards the parked car. it didn't take long for the both of you to get inside the car in a swift motion, opening the door of the car as the two of you literally jumped inside out of fear of being drenched from the rain.

he laughed, gathering himself at his seat while one of his hands fixed the rearview mirror in front of him. "we're not gonna do that again anymore." a breathy exhale that also seemed to be a laughter escaped your lips, fingers combing your hair to fix it.

dejun kept quiet, staring at you in your passenger's seat. you looked so pretty, seeing your smile made his heart race a bit. he swallowed hard and looked away, avoiding to get caught before he turned the engine on of the car.

"you can rest while i drive, okay?" his voice filled your ears. when you gave a nod back at him, it was his sign to put his seatbelt on and drove off.

it was a very quiet ride. dejun's hand clasped around the steering wheel, and the other made its way to press the button for the windscreen wiper, to get the water out of the front window for him to see the road more clearly.

the only thing he was listening to is the static sounds of the radio, as well as the harsh pitter-patter of the rain dropping down on the far. he gave a glance in your direction, seeing that you were looking a bit uncomfortable.

he softly called for your name, only for you to furrow your eyebrows as you shut your eyes, short breaths coming out from you. dejun reached for your forehead before he let the back of his palm touch it. he pulled away quickly saying, "shit, you're burning up."

"w-what?" you weakly said. dejun needed to drive to your place as soon as possible, he needed to compose himself to avoid panicking while driving. "i'll drive there as soon as i can." assuring you to calm down, he kept one hand on the steering wheel once again, and the other reached for the glove box, fingers pressing the button to open it. " try to see if i have any cool fever patch inside there."

he watched you search from his peripheral vision before focusing back on driving, turning the wheel to move around to the corner. your place isn't that far from where you both are right now, and dejun soon noticed that the rain eased off as it turned into drizzle; the sight made him relieved.

dejun found you asleep during the rest of the ride, he tried to reach for your neck to check your temperature, but you were still burning. he was worried of course, he didn't expect that you would get sick this quickly, and he hoped for your fast recovery.

some time later, he slowly drove his car to the side to park. turning off the engine, he got off the car and walked around to the door of the passenger's seat to open it. dejun bent over to move closer to you as he gently shook you.

"we're here. come on, i'll get you to your room." his voice fluttered your eyes open, finding his. you didn't say anything and slowly got outside the car as well. dejun clasped his hand around your wrist, placing your arm around his shoulders, while the other was around your waist, pulling you closer and keeping you steady. "hang on, okay?"

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where-are-the-spooky-gays-2 · 7 months ago

Note

I actually have discovered I lack the motivation for a new fic so here's various blurbs for Punk Remus corrupting Christian Virgil that I like. Insert Blasphemy and Sacrilegious Activities tags here. And there are a few suggestive ones because it's Remus I don't know how else to form it. Basically I'm sorry in advance :3

- Virgil got that purity culture BS from his parents about like being a virgin before marriage. So like. Extra virgin. Remus changes these things. No details because I want to still be welcomed on this blog 🙏

- They actually meet in a church bathroom (it's really awkward Virgil walks out of a stall to wash his hands and Remus is just sitting in the window smoking) (he doesn't want to be there) (went with his parents and then ditched) (this is only like 50% of the time of me thinking about it tho) (didn't go outside bc they thought it was funny to smoke in church) (made a holy shit joke to Virgil. That was his first sentence. If you shit in a church is it holy shit) (somehow it fucking works) (romance is not dead, fellas, its hidden in the shit jokes)

- the first not Christian song Virgil years is Welcome To The Black Parade by MCR. That's why it's really special to him. Inspired the emo.

- I feel like no matter what Remus' bedroom is covered wall to wall in just. Whatever he wants. Pride flags, tapestries, posters, signs he's stolen, random shit he's thumb-tacked onto the wall, LEDs and fairy lights and lamps. There is no open wall space. This is all a bit overwhelming for Virgil at first (remember: sad beige baby) but he comes to love it and all the things he can look at

- every hickey Virgil gets pre-moving in with Remus is hidden underneath a shirt. Remus leaves ONE above his collarbones and Virgil literally has to tell his parents it was a bruise from how he slept. Remus gets HELLA scolded for that

- Virgil does smoke a cigarette with Remus. He does not like it. They also shotgun a cigarette. He has mixed feelings on that. Virgil does the devil's lettuce with Remus. He enjoys this. A lot.

- Virgil's first time drunk on something other than communion wine (half joking) is with Remus. They skip town thrice over in order to go to a bar where Virgil won't be known and tattled on. Remus is surprisingly very protective and good to him. Takes him home, takes off his shoes and coat, tucks him in, puts a trash can next to him for tomorrow.

- A lot of late night drives through the parks. I mean, it's late, Virgil doesn't have a curfew. They drive through the parks and find a cozy corner to talk where nobody will see or hear them. Maybe they smooch a little. A lot.

- SO many religious conversations. So many. Just. So many. Remus wants the communion wine and the little crackers. Virgil has to explain he cannot have the wine and crackers. Remus calls him wine and a cracker. Then asks if eating the wine and cracker is cannibalism. Then talks about cannibalism.

- my favorite one: Virgil asks Remus to come with him to church one time. Just once. Maybe Virgil is having a hard time (not religiously like externally) and wants to go for comfort but can't stand the thought of leaving Remus. So this like total punk walks into a church and sits with Virgil and... knows all of it? The prayers, the statements, the right times for everything. Virgils shocked. They leave the church later and he's like ???. Remus answers "what? Didn't think I was a church kid? Don't I look like a pastor's kid?" Haha yeah plot twist I love this.

- virgils parents want to meet his "new little friend." Remus can't hide all of the punkness but it tries. Virgil is surprised when he shows up with a clean mouth (swearing + brushed his teeth), long sleeves to hide the tattoos, plastic (mostly invisible) piercings to try and hide the ones he can, hair tied back in a respectable position (is a mullet ever respectable? /j /lh) It doesn't make them 100% like him but he tries and he may succeed a little.

There are definitely more but I also have a habit of sending in asks at 1am and it is 12:52 am and I need eep. I looooooove corruption fics where it's totally cool. Like yeah there's some concern but still that's the good shit. Also hi 🐸 anon (or anyone else) if you read this and any of these inspire you, take em :3

— 👑

V A L I D but I fucking L O V E A L L of this!!! Ree W O U L D make a holy shit joke in a church and of course it works on Vee manz is dorksexual XD /light hearted Poor Ree has to get scolded by his boyf for the hickey wear turtlenecks then Emo XD I seriously L O V E their bond and how carefree they are with each other and the fact that the chaotic Punk at least tries to put an effort to look presentable around Vee's parents to make a good impression is really sweet <3 (Also I'm O B S E S S E D with that plot twist of course Ree would know the church like the back of his hand but Vee's confusion makes it more hilarious XD)

#also no need to apologize i'm literally not bothered by suggestive stuff (i'm 21 i've heard worse XD /light hearted)#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #ts remus #ts virgil #sanders sides #thomas sanders #asks #answers #👑 anon #not a countdown #religion mention

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muniimyg · 2 years ago

Text

12 | three for three

series m.list

note: thank you all for all the love you send through interactions! it’s definitely been so fun talking and spending a few delulu moments with you <3 i hope you enj this written! we take a moment to dig deeper with the characters and their feelings... the fun truly begins after this! don’t forget to comment/reblog with your thoughts as i’d love to hear back from you! a special thank you to @floweryjeons for the mini concept !!! and @thealexalcala for “all i need is FLUFFFFFFFF” 😆 please forgive the minor typos/mistakes ... will be editing this when i have the time <3

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “your universe” // please DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

taglist: @yukiehyukie @tarahardcore @bbsantc @jeonqkooks-main @whoa-jo @ellesalazar @exhibitachol @pamzn @floweryjeons @boraength @4ksj @joonsjuice @taegijns @avtrns @taegix94 @bloopkook @jihopesjoint @firesighgirl @vantxx95 @damn-u-min-yoongi @yoongukie-ff @hopeworldjimin @thisisaburnphone @pb-n-juju

If Yoongi had to sum up his feelings for you... Well, it wouldn’t be a very long list.

It’s not because he dislikes you—no, he does like you! He just feels indifferent. Even if his friends are the definition of comfort and chaos, Yoongi remains indifferent.

When you confessed for the first time, his immediate thought was that it was too early. You two were only 4 months into being friends. Besides, you were a little too tipsy. Though aware of your confession, you asked him for a clearer answer the following day. With a pounding headache, Yoongi’s words left you feeling even worse.

“I think we would be better off as friends… We just met and I don’t want to ruin what we could be.”

What you could be?

Friends. That’s what.

By the second confession, a year or so passed. It was during a study session and you brought it up as casual as you could—too afraid of scaring him off but even more afraid of remaining friends with someone who you’ve completely fallen for. Yoongi was talking about the weather and the spring season transitioning in. You smiled in return before mentioning wanting to see the cherry blossoms. Before you could even finish your confession, Yoongi’s softened his gaze and sighed.

“___, nothing changed. We’re better off as friends.. I hope you understand. But, hey, we can see the cherry blossoms with the others if you really want to.”

No.

You didn’t really want to see the cherry blossoms. You just wanted to be with him. You just wanted to see something pretty with him.

Then, by the third confession… You couldn’t hold yourself together. You two were being teased at a party. Everyone was asking when Yoongi would finally ask you out. Everyone noted how often you two hung out or how clingy you were with him. Shoved closer and closer to him, he embraced you and laughed. To everyone, he professed; “I don’t like her that way. She’s just a friend. She’s my ace.”

That stung.

Even if everyone was piss drunk, you were completely sober and the feelings his words brought to you made you intoxicated with hurt.

That party was 3 days before the first game you didn’t attend. Yoongi clearly doesn’t remember it even though he walked you home. The confusing signals only made your heart ache and your head hurt. The following day, as you contemplated on going to his game; his words rang clear in your head.

You just had to take the hint.

You and Yoongi are friends. He wants to remain just friends... You rather not. In your heart, you can’t be friends with someone you’re in love with. It’s too messy. It’s too unfair. It’s too risky.

Then, the game happened and you were no where to be seen. Yoongi had gone outside the court before the game even began to look for you in the crowd. You weren’t answering his texts and he found it odd.

You never ignore him.. Even if you’re mad.

As time went by and Yoongi reflected on his feelings... He soon realized how his heart has begins to feel tight in his chest whenever you walk by. It has started to race and beat faster and faster every inch you get closer to him. How his hands would be sweaty all the time and maybe that’s why his handles when he plays are always on point… Because you were there making him nervous.

That’s the funny thing.. After all this time, him rejecting you for the sake of preserving your friendship; Yoongi abandoned his own feelings for you. That’s the plain truth. Yoongi has never processed the thought of having a crush on you back. He always figured if the timing would be better.. If he wasn’t such a coward... If there was one more chance with you; you were worth the shot.

It was love at first sight… On your end.

You caught feelings for Yoongi almost instantly. Within 1 month of knowing him, you couldn’t keep it together. Every slight touch, every time he said your name or walked you home… He had you. In every moment he tried and in every moment didn’t; he had continued to engrave himself into your heart.

You never tried to hide your feelings for him. If you were upset, annoyed, or in love with him more than ever—it was obvious. No one could read you better than him… But that was before.

Suddenly you don’t show up to their game.

Suddenly you’re ignoring him mentioning you in chats.

Suddenly you’re never around.

It’s so strange and frankly, it’s quite frustrating to Yoongi. He figured that if there was any time for you to feel offended or sensitive about him rejecting you.. It should’ve been the first time. Given that you’ve attempted 3 times in total—well, shouldn’t you be used to it by now? What were you expecting anyway? That one day, he would come to you? That one day, it would work out?

No.

There was so much pride you swallowed.

There were far too many nights where you lost sleep over him. Staying up with him to study, waking up early to walk to class to with him even when you didn’t have any scheduled… Not to mention taking care of the whole basketball team on his behalf. From baking cupcakes for their victory parties to helping them with car washes to help fundraise for their away games—sometimes, they were convinced you were the only reason Yoongi plays so well.

He plays well because he has you to take care of him.

He plays well because he has you to impress.

He plays well because he has you.

Had.

He had you.

To be fair, your sudden cold attitude from you took everyone by surprise as you have no problem expressing your sweetness through warm acts. Especially since Yoongi has always been your favourite... It was odd for you to pull away. Nevertheless, it was needed.

The truth is, no one has ever paid attention to Yoongi the way you do.

He knows that—everyone knows that. You don’t. To you, you see him as this tender-hearted man that just needs a little goodness in his day. If you could be that, why not?

Even if he can’t fully admit it now—let alone know it—you gave him a sense of peace and love. It’s something he has never gotten from others. It’s something that was only found in your presence and fades in your absence.

It’s rest.

In the same sense that you’re the first person to make him feel a sense of peace and love—you’re also the first person he is wildly unsure and unwaveringly certain of.

It’s the scariest part of being around you.

He’s afraid you’re a once in a lifetime kind of person. He’s afraid, he’s not that to you. Have you moved on already? The idea of loving you is natural. The idea of wanting to be good to you is second nature. The idea of you and him—is it inevitable?

“There you guys are!” Jungkook squeals from a far.

The next thing you know, he’s running up to you and Yoongi along with the other guys.

Yoongi, who has done nothing but stand by your side and make sad attempts of conversation with you since the bidding, smiles at his friends in relief. Was it that horrible being with you?

No.

He’s just nervous and you overthink.

You turn to Yoongi and pout. “What’s going on? I thought we were going to get cotton candy for Jungkook—”

Your crush shrugs as he shoves his hands inside his pocket. “Hmm.. Think this will be sweeter.”

Huh.

Before you could question what he means, Jungkook greets you with an overwhelming bear hug. You laugh and Yoongi sends Jungkook a warning look. Jungkook sticks his tongue out at him. It’s blue from the cotton candy.

As he pulls away, Jungkook immediately locks his arms with yours.

“You wanna get married, ___?”

Your eyes widen.

Never in a million years did you think you would end up friends with such out of pocket people.

It’s important to note that when they all first met you, they thought your kindness would wear off and you would reveal your true self. Yet, 3 years have passed and you are just as angelic as the first day they met you. With your pleasant presence, it became a blur as to how you all got along or how the friend group came to be.

It just happened.

It was suddenly you and 7 overprotective friends. Some, however, are more protective and entitled than others.

Therefore, their overprotectiveness, even towards Yoongi, was necessary. You felt secure with their love. Now, what’s happening? Are they supporting Yoongi? ... Since when?

“Pardon? To who? You?”

You love Jungkook and all.. But you’re loyal to the man who rejected you multiple times.

“Ew! You’re pretty and all but God knows you wouldn’t be able to handle all this...” Jungkook gestures to himself. Yoongi rolls his eyes and you let out a small chuckle before sharing a look between the two.

“I’m so confused—”

Jungkook groans, tugging you. “Arghh, just come!”

Your eyebrows knit into a frown at Yoongi as Jungkook drags you away. You raise your voice to be heard; “I thought we were going to hang out?”

Yoongi nods at you nonchalantly, heart melting from your words. Under his breath, he mutters: “silly girl, who do you think you’re marrying?”

The marriage booth is basically the new kissing booth.

Your school’s facility only approved of it since it promotes healthy family relationships and blah blah blah. Truth be told, it’s just a booth where friends drag each other to expose their crushes.

Hence, why your friends are doing what they’re doing.

Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok are standing on your side as your bridesmaids. They’re holding cotton candy like bouquets. Meanwhile, Jin and Nam Joon stand on Yoongi’s side. Taehyung stands in the middle of you and Yoongi as the officiant.

You have butterflies in your stomach but you’re doing everything to calm them down. Yoongi keeps looking forward, hardly even looking at you. It makes you nervous.

What is he thinking?

Should you just run away?

Would it matter if you did?

Just do it. Would he even stop you?

You bite your bottom lip and look side to side. Taking a deep breath, you sneakily turn away. Hosoek catches your eyes and shakes his head, warning you to stay put.

You don’t listen.

Just as your feet are about to move, Yoongi tightens his grip with your hands and holds you still.

You gulp.

Even then, he doesn’t look at you. Instead, you notice his jaw tighten. You take the hint and stay put.

Taehyung clears his throat before he wiggles his eyebrows at you. It’s obvious he is far too excited to be doing this. “Some say love is found in our every day. However, I believe it’s actually found once in a lifetime. With that being said, friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate the once in a lifetime of Yoongi and ___. Should anyone present know of any reason why these two should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace—”

“She’s too hot for him—”

Abruptly, you and Yoongi turn your head and see Hoseok and Jungkook covering a swimmer’s mouth and dragging him away from the crowd. Hoseok and Jungkook give innocent smiles as they take care of the interruption...

“Anyone relevant? No? Okay… Yay! You may now kiss the bride!” Taehyung smiles proudly, gesturing for you two to stand closer together. He leans in between you to two and whispers loudly, “... I said kiss!”

You stand still, unsure of what to do.

Kissing Yoongi—as silly as it sounds—never occurred to you. You’ve spent so much of your time falling for him emotionally—a kiss never crossed your mind. Now what? You’re supposed to kiss him in front of everyone?

Before you can say anything, Taehyung turns your body to face Yoongi. Yoongi takes a step forward and closes in on you. It’s then that you realize you’re still holding his hand and how… How nice it is to be doing so.

“No vows?” You ask, trying to stall.

Taehyung shakes his head and smirks at you. “Nah. I don’t give a shit about I do’s. Just seal it with a kiss!”

You look at Taehyung with pleading eyes. “K-kiss? Y-you want us to kiss?”

Yoongi scoffs, taking your attention away from Taehyung. “Yah, ___... You’ve liked me for 3 years and suddenly you don’t want to kiss me?”

“What? S-shut up! No, it’s just—”

“Are you not ready?” Yoongi suggest, half teasing and half aware that this may be going too fast. “We don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable with doing so. You don’t need to act all tough to avoid embarrassing me.”

You let go of his hand and cross your arms at him. Lowering your gaze, you frown. “I am tough. I don’t care if you get embarrassed—”

“Why are you stalling?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?”

He glares at you. “I’m not asking a lot of questions.”

“Yes, you are!”

Yoongi digresses.

“You want a question? Fine. Can you whistle?”

“Excuse me? Of course, I can whistle. What does whistling have to do with any of this—”

“Do it,” Yoongi challenges you. “Whistle. I don’t think you can..”

You give him a confused face for nth time today. He tilts his head at you and insists you prove him wrong.

Rolling your eyes, you give in to his odd request.

As you pucker up your lips, Yoongi swiftly wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you towards him. As your bodies crash together, he places his other hand to cup your chin and even squishes your cheeks together with his thumb and index finger.

His gaze softens as he looks into your eyes.

You blink.

You panic as you suddenly register what he has just done. What he’s doing... In front of everyone. Before you can even decide if you should lean in or push him away, he decides for you.

Yoongi lets you go and takes a step back. As you compose yourself, he purses his lips and nags, “you’re not ready. That’s okay. I’ll be right here when you are.”

By sunset, Jungkook’s sugar rush reaches it’s peak.

He’s jumping off trash bins and talks everyones ears off. Jin insists on taking him home while Nam Joon, Hoseok, and Taehyung decide to stay to help Jimin and the student council clean up.

That leaves you two.

After the marriage booth, you and Yoongi avoid conversing. The rest of the day was filled with playing games and mostly watching over Jungkook. Honestly? There wasn’t much to say as you two were practically walking on eggshells.

“Hey,” Yoongi approaches you shyly as the rest of the group goes disperse.

“Hi.”

“Are you staying behind to help Jimin or are you heading home?”

You look around and notice all the people tearing down the equipment. There’s plenty of them and the mess isn’t that bad either. Could you think of an excuse to get out of whatever Yoongi is about to pitch?

Or should you just face it? Feelings are feelings and people are people. You can’t keep avoiding him forever. Besides... He’s trying, isn’t he?

You digress.

“I might just head home unless the future president asks me to do something,” you nod in Jimin’s direction. “Let me go ask—”

As you’re about to leave his side, Yoongi catches the hood of your jacket and holds you still. You pretend to choke and even reach out your hands as if you need help. Turning to him, he lets go and you let out a small laugh to lighten the mood.

“You don’t need to talk to him. It’s me,” he says so devastatingly—so pathetically—no, so desperately. “You need to talk to me. ___, can we please talk?”

You aren’t too sure if it’s the way he pleaded or because your heart completely betrayed what your mind has been trying to commit to. You can’t get over him.

“You going to confess to me or something?” you tease.

Yoongi smiles at you softly in response. Then, he nods towards a direction before walking away. Sighing, you pick up your feet and follow him in silence.

Yoongi leads you to the middle.

It’s away from the crowd and near the beach side of campus. It’s not too far away from your place or Yoongi’s. You can hear the waves crashing from a distance and all your friends chatting on the other side. Sitting on the bench, you watch the sunset dissolve in the reflection of the water. As you swing your feet, you stay quiet and let this moment be it’s own.

When the colours of the sky dim and the streets lights flicker to be more prominent, you decide to suck it up. You should confront your issues now.

“So… What’s up?” You break the silence and it takes Yoongi a good minute to compose himself.

This is it.

This is his moment.

He shakily takes a deep breath before abruptly standing up. Yoongi has a bad habit of keeping his hands in his pocket... But who could blame him? It’s how he feels the most comfortable and truth be told; he needed something to keep him from going crazy.

Everything he feels for you is so new.. It’s unfamiliar.

“I don’t think we can be friends,” Yoongi confesses. He feels like he could burst from the relief he instantly feels. “... I want to be with you. I want to be more than friends and I understand my realization is late and I don’t deserve another chance—but I’m asking for one anyway. I’ll be better this time.”

His promise sounds bittersweet to you.

“You didn’t want me before,” you remind him. “I was finally trying to get over you… And then you started to care when I wasn’t around. Do you miss me or do you miss me tending to your ego—”

“You.”

“Yoongi… You say it so easily.” You try to pass off the hurt with a laugh. It makes your heart clench. How could he be like this? All of the sudden, he was finally saying the right things. Everything you’ve ever wanted to hear from him is finally being said… What are you doing fighting it? Perhaps you’re hurt. Perhaps you’re scared. Perhaps it finally feels difficult. “I don’t get it.. I’ve liked you for 3 years… Now? Now you want me? You lose a few games and suddenly you need me around?”

“Win or lose, it’s you,” Yoongi confesses. “I don’t get it either. It’s like… It hit me and once I accepted how I felt… It was the easiest thing to know. Ace, you need to know that I have always wanted you. I just… I didn’t want to ruin the friendship and the timing felt too off. You hardly knew me and I’ve always felt indifferent to so many things in life. You know me. You know the kind of person I am. You know the person I could be. I can be emotionally mature. I can be communicative. I can’t express myself as much as you do or as much as Hoseok can but I—”

“What?”

“Nevermind… That’s not the point. The point is; you know me better than anyone else. You know this is me trying. You know this is me being honest with my feelings for you. You believe in me more than anyone and now I’m believing in you.”

“Do you hear yourself? You rejected me.”

A beat.

“And I regret it. I’m so sorry for everything but I also can’t apologize for not knowing any better… Now I do and now I will be better.”

“What are you saying?”

“___, please date me and dump me over and over again—I don’t care. I want you in any way you’ll let me have you.”

You heart skips a beat.

For the first time, it does so when it should. When Yoongi is finally saying the right things and you’re in a position that doesn’t make you feel pathetic and hopeless.

Regardless, you need a moment to process it all. Yoongi takes your silence as just that.

He waits.

He wonders.

Then, he hopes.

You sit and contemplate everything.

Your feelings for him never left. You tried to dim them but it was no use. Every message, every shared look, and every moment that fleets between you two only makes your heart grow fonder.

But alas, you answer him.

“Three for three.”

Yoongi looks at you confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I confessed to you three times. You rejected me three times. I’m giving you three chances to confess to me which means I have three chances to reject or accept. If I accept, then we can be together. I’ll be your girlfriend since you want me so bad,” you tease. Yoongi rolls his eyes at you, trying to mask his hopeful feeling. “This counts as one. My answer tonight is no. You’re right... Back when you rejected me for the first time. It feels like we just met. I’ve never seen this side of you and I’d like to get to know you better. This also gives you the chance to get to know me... So, sucks to suck. Better luck next time, aki.”

Yoongi sighs in defeat but accepts happily. Who is he to argue with you? You just granted him the best wish. He takes his hands out of his pockets and reaches out for you. You stare at it and look at him blankly.

“Can I at least walk you home?”

The truth is, you have never considered yourself to be stubborn. You’ve always been forgiving and embracive with second chances. Maybe that’s why you give in to Yoongi’s request. Maybe that’s why you let your heart be it’s own and guide you once again...

Maybe that’s why under the cherry blossom trees, Yoongi holds your hand and walks you home.

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angelsdevils · 5 months ago

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Debt of the Heart

Taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @maraya-007 @shelly-ya @galactict3a @bontensbabygirl @thisbicc

*If you want to be added to the tag list you can fill out this form, or update it.

Ran has been distant since the dinner. Neither of you had talked more than a few words, which was fine with you because you had been missing your home. With you missing home, you began to get more irritable. That night was the last time he held you, and you always fell asleep with your back to him.

You continued your daily routines, but despite this, you began to feel trapped. You felt like a bird caged in. You never spoke to Ran about this, especially because of the distance that was created between you two.

You are currently laid in bed, the blanket over your head. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but you were wide awake, and so was Ran.

Ran buttoned up his shirt, staring at your reflection in the mirror. He kept his distance, afraid he would hurt you again, but he still did small things to show you he still cared. But he couldn’t tell if you accepted them or not, since you ignored him.

“Butterfly, when are you going to talk to me?” He asked, grabbing his tie.

You didn’t respond to him, and he sighed softly. He set the tie down and walked over to you. He gently tugged the blanket down, but you kept a firm grip on it. But he was stronger, so he was successful in removing the blanket.

He kneeled beside the bed and took in your features. He pushed your hair behind your ear and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

“I am going to head, to work. I will be home tonight. Maybe we can go on a date after,” he said, hopefully.

“Can’t. My friends want to go out tonight.”

Ran’s jaw clenched, but he knew you hadn’t seen your family and friends since being married tonight.

“Alright, text me if anything happens,” he said.

“Okay,” you mumbled softly. He stood up and put his tie on before grabbing his suit jacket.

Later that day, your friends came and picked you up. You wore one of your best dresses, that Ran bought you because you didn’t have any delicate dresses of your own. When you guys arrived at Eclipse. It was one of the popular nightclubs that was often talked about throughout the city.

Inside, the pulsating music and vibrant lights created a surreal atmosphere. Your friends quickly led you to the bar, ordering drinks and chatting excitedly. You tried to relax, but the thought of Ran and everything that happened filled your mind.

As you settled in, an employee of the club approached your friend group. “Excuse me, are you (Y/N)?”

“Yes, I am. Is everything okay?” You asked, and the employee nodded. Your friends surrounded you with the employee curious about what was wrong.

“We have a special VIP area reserved for you and your friends,” the employee said with a smile. “Courtesy of Mr. Ran Haitani.”

“Girl, you know Ran Haitani? How?” One of your friends asked, and you forgot you never told your friends who you were married to.

“I will tell you guys in a bit,” you said. You were stunned that Ran would go out of his way to do this. How did he even know you were here?” You weren’t sure, but you and your group followed the employee to the VIP section. Your friends were giggling and couldn’t help but try and pry more answers out of you.

Soon, the best bottles of champagne were brought to your section, and your friends cheered, toasting to a great night. You sipped your drink, looking around but the alcohol helped ease your mind. After about two or three shots, you were dancing with your friends, laughing. You felt free, and light. You weren’t drunk but tipsy enough to actually enjoy yourself.

“I hope you ladies are having fun,” a familiar voice was heard. You and your friends turned to see Ran and Rindou. They squealed, and Ran met your eyes. You looked away, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“That’s right, (Y/N), you never told us how you know Ran,” your friend said, suddenly. Ran looked insulted and placed a hand over his chest.

“I am her husband.”

The area fell silent beside the loud music. They turned to you, and you scratched your neck.

“Yeah, he is my husband. I didn’t know he owned this club though,” you said. They pulled you to a small corner, and you sighed. You knew this would happen. Ran was confused, and Rindou was laughing at his brother’s stake.

“You are married to a Haitani? You do realize he is part of Bonten right?”

“It’s fine, I am aware. He keeps me out of business, I have been adjusting so it slipped my mind to tell you guys sooner,” you explained.

“You are forgiven, but be careful okay?”

Before you could respond, they were chatting with each other giggling some flirting with Rindou who was eating it up. You sat on the couch, and Ran poured you a glass of champagne offering it to you.

“Having fun? You never answered my question,” he said to you. You took the glass and nodded your head.

“Yes, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Butterfly, I own many clubs with Rindou. So, when you said you were going out, I sorta figured you would be here. This is one of the biggest establishments and most popular.”

“I see, I didn’t even know exactly where we were going.”

He chuckled softly and held his glass up to you, and you clinked it with his. “The employees know who you are. So you will always have top-tier service, that I promise.” He said.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to.”

“What kind of husband would I be, if I didn’t give you VIP treatment when you come in?” He said and you sipped your drink. You looked away from him, but he tilted your head to him. He kissed your forehead, and some giggles could be heard. You blushed as he stood up.

“Ladies, enjoy your evening. If you need anything don’t be afraid to ask an employee, since you are drinking me and my brother will handle driving you guys home. So don’t worry about that,” Ran said.

“We will come and check in on you later, so have fun,” Rindou said.

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted, etc. I do not own the character or the fanart, but I own the plots of these stories. All fanart goes to their appropriate owners. The dividers go to their original owners.

#Ran Haitani #Tokyo Revengers #TR #Bonten #Ran Haitani x reader #Debt of the Heart

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mollyrolls · 4 months ago

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oh so this is real? this is happening?

DRUNK WALK HOME

introductions: roommates from hell

masterlist

extras!

yn has been on the brink of failing out her entire university run but has never gotten academic probation before (somehow) she's been gaslighting gatekeeping and girlbossing her way to a few passing grades

roommates from hell all met their first year of university and were in a math class together; they all hated their dormmates so much that they decided to move in together but then it turns out that they all lwky hate each other a little too

but its that sibling kind of hate. its a very special brand of hate-love; they would never say a nice thing to each other but would absolutely do a murder for each other

tendou got really popular on twitter and no one knows how or why

yn and matsukawa go out a lot together; they're both pretty popular on campus and have a lot of drinking/partying buddies

kenma never tags along but tendou does sometimes and he completely changes the vibe everytime he does; yn loves it

yn has a big fat gnarly crush on bokuto ever since she met him in an art class

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @crownj1min @frvppe @mollyrolls @karasyuu @ciderscape @phoenix-eclipses @s1ckntw1st3d @cnnmairoll @soobin1437 @worldgyu @snail-squasher @dragonictears @ferntv @reignsaway @Lisoozi @staygoldsquatchling02 @gsyche @yuminako @spicana @hermaeusmorax @shoyostar @whorefornoodles @hqsimprevival2024 @atsumuenthusiast @lemonocityyy @itsdragonius @robinphobia @aboveasphodel @savemebrazilhinata @lllaw @dreamingofyeo @milesmoralesluvs @miliondollagirl @kitnootkat @soulfullystarry @bows4life

#i’m out of breath #panting shaking vibrating #i know im fucked when it’s the introductions and AKAASHI HASNT EVEN BEEN MENTIONED #AND IM ACTING LIKE THIS #and the…. and the…. the bo….boku🤢… the bokuto 🤢…. bokuto plot line #oh my god you guys are never gonna look at me the same 😭😭#the real ones will stick around i guess LMAO #also this fic is gonna go even crazier bc ill end up liking tendou in some way #please god save me #or put me out of my misery #both work #i’m actually embarrassed thinking about how i’m gonna act when other chapters come out #i’m worried you’re gonna not want to be my friend anymore eggy 😭#is that insane to say #i don’t know #this fic makes me insane #i saw the notification and put my phone down and walked out of the room #had to come back an hour later once i was recooperated #also just know i’m gonna reach the taglimit for p much every single chapter #again if it gets to be too much lmk and i can dial back #but i’m just so fucking excited for this #i love everything you write and this is going to be so special to me and i cannot wait for it #forever in your debt #mollys book reviews #special tag for drunk walk home so i can revisit it often <3

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starlight-shades · 1 year ago

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Called Home to the Depths of the Forest Ch. 8

• summary – First date :3

• rating – E

• wordcount – 3.8k

• warnings – PIV sex, cunnilingus, words like "cunt" and "pussy" used for Ghost's genitals as well as "dick" and "cock," unsafe sex

• This is my first fanfic, so please let me know if there's anything I forgot to tag. Feedback is welcome and encouraged

Read on Ao3

Ch 1. Ch. 7 Ch. 9

There was something about spring that made starting something new easier. Maybe it was the warming weather that still smelled like snow on certain days. Or maybe it was all the new life that emerged.

Whatever it was, it gave Simon the courage to be sitting there, on an old blanket he had dug out from the closet, settled in a clearing about an hour’s hike from the cabin, just him and Johnny, surrounded by a veritable feast that he had put together.

“And this is supposed to be some fancy sparkling wine that Gaz told me was real romantic,” Johnny explained, oblivious to the fact that Simon was not paying attention at all.

It had taken them about a week or so to coordinate with Price and Gaz a good day for them to watch the children while Johnny took Simon on their date.

And there they were. On a date. Together. Him and the dazzling, charismatic werewolf he had somehow convinced to be part of his life.

He stared at Johnny, at the way his long lashes framed his eyes, making him look like a princess.

They were both wearing some of their nicer clothes, but it wasn’t anything fancy. Simon had put on a black jumper that he had bought from one of the local boutiques in town a million years ago. It had sat in his dresser mostly untouched because the woman told him it was some kind of special wool, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

Johnny had put on a button-down with the first three buttons undone, revealing a distracting bit of tanned skin dusted in brown hair. The only reason Simon knew that he had spent extra time on his mohawk this morning was because he had had to wait for his own turn to get ready in the bathroom. Now, a few hours later, it was back to its normally tousled state after he kept running his fingers through it. Simon was beginning to think it might be a nervous habit.

That made him smile. The idea that he was making Johnny nervous.

“What’s that about?” Johnny needled, poking Simon in the ribs.

“What?” He knew exactly what he was talking about. Simon smiled wider if only to watch the way Johnny’s face lit up.

“That smile, you cheeky fucker!”

“Can’t I smile now?”

Johnny tugged at his mohawk again.

“Do I make you nervous?” he teased. This time it was his turn to poke the other man in the ribs. Spring also made him brave, apparently.

“Awa’ an bile yer heid!” he laughed. “I just wanted to do this right. I wanted to proper romance you, wine and dine you, then walk you home with a kiss on your doorstep.”

“Oh you think you’ll be getting a kiss?” Simon dared. He couldn’t remember the last time it had been this easy with someone.

“I put this spread together, didn’t I?” Johnny gestured with both hands to the food spread between them on the blanket.

Simon leaned back on his elbow, propping his face up to watch him.

Johnny’s admission made it easier for him to allow himself to indulge in thinking how beautiful the other man was. Especially in the sun streaming through the trees. Grabbing one of the berries, he popped it in his mouth before taking the proffered glass of sparkling wine and sipping at it for a moment. He set it back down in a relatively safe spot (didn’t want to spill and ruin all of Johnny’s hard work) before he spoke again.

“There. I’ve been wine and dined, and I think you’ll remember that I own this land, so I’d say I’m home. This spot is just as good as the doorstep, don’t you think?”

The alcohol he had barely drunk couldn’t even be blamed for his boldness. Simon was just happy. He couldn’t help but grin, positively wolfish, at the stunned look on Johnny’s face.

But he recovered quickly enough. Johnny was crawling over to him in the next blink, looking every bit the predator he was. He leaned in, his mouth a hairsbreadth away.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed.

“Kiss me,” Simon pled.

His lips were warm, soft against his own. It was clumsy at first, as they learned each other. Simon reached up and tangled his fingers in the hair at the base of Johnny’s neck, tugging him with him as he leaned back down. They kissed, languid and slow, breathing the same air between their lips. He felt Johnny’s hand snake across his ribs, wrapping around his waist to anchor them together. His fingers pressed into his side, firm, but not so rough as to leave bruises yet.

If he could taste Spring, he imagined it would taste like Johnny. Simon already knew that he would remember the flavor for the rest of his life.

“Gods, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Johnny confessed against Simon’s mouth.

“Tell me,” he begged between each tender meeting of their lips.

“Years. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want you,” Johnny admitted.

They paused, letting the words hang between them.

“Years?”

“Aye,” he confirmed, pressing their foreheads together with unwavering eye-contact, as if ensuring his sincerity. “Maybe this is too soon, but I’ve known awhile that you’re it for me, Si.”

He felt his heart stutter in his chest before resuming it’s frantic rhythm.

Simon surged forward, crashing their mouths together again. Johnny gasped when he slipped his tongue against the seam of his lips.

After that it was a frenzy of teeth and tongue. He licked into his mouth, desperate to claim as much of it for himself as he could. Johnny groaned into his mouth when he took his bottom lip between his teeth, pulling harshly at it.

“Yes, Si,” he panted, “Bite me, claim me, take me. I’m yours.”

Simon pushed at his shoulder, rolling them so he was on top, straddling Johnny’s waist. He nipped at his stubble at the corner of his jaw, and soothed the nips with his tongue.

Johnny sunk his hands into his hair, holding Simon’s mouth to his neck as he continued, making his way down to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He tugged impatiently when Johnny’s shirt got in his way. As soon as he figured out what Simon wanted, Johnny was tearing at the buttons, getting his shirt off as fast as he could.

He laid back, splayed on the blanket, a feast for Simon’s eyes. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, but somehow this time felt holy. Dipping down, he licked a stripe up Johnny’s torso, pausing every few inches to kiss and bite at the skin. Simon had never been a religious man, but he could get behind worship like this.

“Please,” Johnny whined.

He moaned when Simon bit at one nipple, laving away the sting before repeating the treatment on the other side.

“I want to see you,” he begged, tugging on Simon’s jumper. “Need to feel you on me.”

Sitting back on his heels, he ground his hips down on Johnny’s growing erection he could feel beneath him.

“Please!” he groaned, hands scrambling to divest him of his sweater.

In one motion, Simon pulled off both his jumper and the shirt he was wearing underneath. And then he was back, mouth on Johnny’s, more of a saliva swap than anything that could resemble a kiss.

“Tell me what you want,” Simon prompted, moving away from Johnny’s lips to suck a bruise on his neck.

“Wanna be inside you,” he moaned.

“God yes,” he agreed, taking Johnny’s hands from his hips and moving them to the closure on his pants.

Simon sat back again, rubbing the heat of his core against Johnny’s cock before he rose to his knees so they could take his pants off. Taking advantage of their momentary separation, Johnny practically ripped his own jeans off, shoving them down to reveal thighs Simon wanted wrapped around his head.

“Fuck, your cunt smells divine,” Johnny said, voice drenched in his desire. He looked to Simon for permission before dipping his fingers between his thighs at the nod he received.

He had to laugh, but it was quickly cut off with a moan. “Because that’s what every man wants to hear.”

“Baby, I will say whatever you want me to if it means I can get your dick in my mouth.”

“You’re insatiable,” Simon gasped as Johnny laid back, tugging him by his hips, guiding him to hover over his mouth.

“Sit on my face, Si. Want to drown in your pussy.”

And he was nothing if not a gentleman, he had to fulfill such an ardent request, but Johnny didn’t wait for him. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his thighs and yanked him down to sit firmly on his face.

Soon enough, any and all thoughts other than Johnny’s clever tongue fled from his mind. Simon moaned as Johnny focused on his dick, giving it a few slow licks before he wrapped his lips around it and sucked. Alternating between lapping at his cock and dipping into and around his hole, Johnny left him feeling thoroughly ravished as the orgasm built.

He was practically doubled over, squeezing Johnny’s head between his thighs as he dug his fingers into his stupid mohawk, keeping him pinned exactly where he was.

When he hummed with Simon’s dick in his mouth, he swore he saw stars.

“Fuck, I’m getting close, do that again.”

And he did. Johnny slipped his fingers inside him while he was distracted, pushing him higher and higher as they pumped in and out.

Simon swore as he came when Johnny found that spongy spot inside of him at the same time that he sucked hard on his cock.

As his vision returned from the blinding white it had been, he looked down to where Johnny was sucking marks into his inner thighs.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured, kissing one of the bruises he had left.

Simon chuckled, still trying to catch his breath.

“Should keep you right here forever. You’ve never looked better than you do covered in my cum,” he teased.

“You wouldn’t hear me complaining.”

Simon slid down Johnny’s body so he could lean in and kiss him. He didn’t mind tasting himself on his tongue. As they took languid sips of each other, Simon reached back to slide the head of Johnny’s cock between his slick folds.

Abruptly, Johnny tore his lips away.

“I don’t have a condom,” he whispered, an apology written across his face.

“Shit,” Simon cursed. He was quiet a moment, thinking, but he didn’t move from where he lay plastered against Johnny’s chest. Making up his mind, he looked back at Johnny who looked like he was a second away from pumping the breaks.

“Are you clean?”

Johnny startled.

“What? Um, yeah? I haven’t been with anyone since I met you.” He looked confused.

“That’s like six years?” Simon noted incredulously.

The bastard had the gall to look bashful, a blush creeping over his face.

“I said you were it for me, Si. I meant it.”

“You’re something else, John MacTavish,” he murmured, dipping down to kiss him again. “I’m clean too. And if you want to keep going, I’d like to.”

Johnny swiped his fingers through Simon’s pussy.

“Pregnancy?”

“Is that something we have to worry about? Are we even compatible?”

“It’s unlikely, but it’s still a risk,” he explained.

Simon let out a frustrated breath. “How unlikely? Can you pull out?”

He snorted. “My sex ed teacher would skin me if she knew I’d be doing this.”

Grinding his cunt against Johnny’s dick again, he redirected his attention. “I’d rather you be thinking about me when you’re inside me.”

“Fuck,” Johnny groaned. “I’ll pull out, I’ll do whatever you want, Si.”

“Then fuck me,” he whispered against his lips, lining up Johnny’s cock once again.

In one thrust, Johnny was buried to the hilt inside him. They moaned in unison at the sensation. Simon swore he could feel him in his throat, the stretch just shy of painful. He would be feeling him for days.

Slowly he started rocking back and forth, finding the right angle to ride Johnny.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he gasped as Simon started to pick up speed.

The slap of skin on skin filled the air around them as they feel into a rhythm that had them panting. Together they chased that high.

“Right there, Johnny! Fuck, just like that!”

“Simon!”

He yelped as Johnny’s cock hit his cervix, pumping in and out of him hard and fast. Johnny reached down and pressed his thumb to the tip of Simon’s dick, rubbing in a rhythm that matched his thrusts.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby,” Johnny panted.

“I love your goddamn cock,” Simon gasped

At his words, Johnny pounded into him with even more fervor. If someone had asked him just moments before, Simon would have said he didn’t think it was possible for them to go any harder, but they matched each other with each thrust.

Despite having come not long before, Simon could feel his second climax approaching as he bounced on Johnny’s cock.

“Gonna come,” he warned.

Simon blessed whatever gods were listening when Johnny didn’t change anything, just kept up the same pace and pressure.

“Come for me, Si,” Johnny commanded, reaching up to pull him down to his lips once again.

And when it hit, Simon moaned into Johnny’s mouth as he clenched down on his cock.

Before he could catch his breath, Simon was flipped onto his back. Johnny chased his own orgasm, the new angle allowing him to find the speed that got him creeping closer to that edge. He swore Johnny felt bigger like this.

“Did so good for me, baby,” he praised, his voice ragged.

Simon moaned, clutching Johnny to him, no doubt scoring bright red marks down his back.

Then he was pulling out, pumping his cock in his hand as he came, coating Simon’s stomach in creamy white pearls. He collapsed beside him on the blanket, throwing an arm around his waist.

They laid there, catching their breath for a moment.

“Was that a fucking knot on your dick?” Simon asked after a few minutes of silence.

Johnny burst out laughing.

Later that afternoon, they were still sprawled together, naked on the picnic blanket. Some of the food had fallen victim to their activities, but enough of it was salvageable that they were still able to have a pleasant meal together. They took turns feeding each other between kisses and breathless laughter.

When Johnny licked his own cum off of Simon’s skin, they went for another round before settling down again, content to exist in the silence together.

Simon rolled over, slotting himself against Johnny’s side, and laying his head on his chest. Johnny had his eyes closed, enjoying the afternoon sunshine on his face, and when he felt Simon, he automatically slung and arm around him, running his fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. He was warm enough that Simon didn’t feel the need to put his clothes back on quite yet.

He felt safe.

“I had a nephew,” he whispered. “Joseph.”

Johnny opened his eyes, looking at him. He was quiet, giving Simon space to speak.

“I had a family. Before this.” They both heard the hitch in his voice.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Johnny whispered, raising his hand to stroke Simon’s cheek.

“I want you to know it all. I need you to know me.”

“Oh Simon, but I do know you. Knowing your heartbreak won’t change that. I know the man you’ve become, I don’t need to know the man you used to be.”

He kissed him softly.

“Will you listen anyway?”

“Always,” Johnny promised.

And Simon laid bare every corner of his being. There was nothing left unsaid. He couldn’t even fathom the idea that he and Johnny would be anything other than entwined for the rest of their lives. By the end, he was crying silently in Johnny’s arms. Salt flavored their kiss.

Slow kisses evolved into tender lovemaking.

When they fell still again, it was Johnny’s turn to look up at Simon from where he lay on his chest. He held Simon like he was something worth loving.

“Do you ever feel like we’ve lived a million lives? And we keep coming together in every one.”

“All I know is I never want to live another one without you.”

By the time they made it back to the cabin, the sun was hanging low in the sky. The good mood that had carried through the whole day shattered.

“And as I said—“ Price’s voice carried through the trees as they approached.

They emerged to the scene of Price taking up the whole doorway standing in front of Detective Constable Collins on their front porch. He looked more disheveled than the last time they had seen him.

“—they didn’t say when they’d be back. If you leave your information, I’m sure they’d get back to you.” He was practically snarling at the much smaller man.

“And as I said, Mr. Price, I’m perfectly happy to wait for them here. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if I waited inside for them.” He wasn’t much more cordial than Price.

“Captain! Price! Sir. It’s Captain Price.”

They were interrupted before it could escalate any further.

“We’re here now. I believe we arranged to speak at the police station later this week, Detective Constable,” Ghost called across the clearing.

“Yes, I’m afraid it couldn’t wait.” Collins did not appear sorry at all.

“That’s a pity,” Ghost growled.

Collins met them halfway, standing between them and the cabin.

“Could you provide your whereabouts on the night of March 14th?”

Johnny jerked at the question.

“I couldn’t tell you off the top of my head. I don’t keep a diary.” Ghost’s voice was icy.

“Did you know there are scavengers out in those woods?”

“Yes. It’s a forest.”

Johnny gripped his hand tight.

“We took the cadaver dogs out yesterday. Do you know what they found?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Nothing. They found nothing,” Collins hissed. “Even if there was an accident, we would have found my brother’s body. Even if some fucking foxes or some other animal got ahold of him, we’d still find something.”

That would be why the idiot was still poking around. A brother. People do crazy things for family.

“If you are insinuating either of us are involved in his disappearance, I will be calling my solicitor before we continue this conversation.” Ghost’s voice was hard, even.

“Keep your appointment for later this week,” Collins spat before turning and heading back to where his vehicle was parked.

No one moved while they watched the man disappear down the unkempt road of Simon’s drive.

After he was gone, Simon hurried across the grass, pushing past Price and Gaz inside until he found where the pups were huddled in the corner nest again.

He let out a breath as they practically tackled him when he opened his arms for them. Two little bundles of fluff snuggled as close to him as they could get.

“It’s alright. We’re here,” he murmured, soothing their whining cries.

He knew exactly when Johnny appeared in the doorway behind them.

“We cleaned it up. There was nothing left.” Johnny growled.

Simon stiffened.

“I know.”

Johnny was pacing back and forth across the room.

“But why is he after us?” he grumbled, musing out loud.

“He doesn’t have anything, we’re fine,” Simon spoke softly. He knew what raised voices could mean to a child.

“But the bastard is still sniffing around, Si! He knows something.”

When Duncan whined, he did his best to soothe him.

“It’s alright, Bug.” Simon pushed up to his knees, tucking Duncan and Ailsa in with their blankets. “I’ll be right back. Johnny and I are just gonna have an adult discussion outside.”

He gripped Johnny’s elbow as he walked past, dragging him into the hallway.“You’re scaring them.” Simon’s arms were crossed, putting himself between Johnny and the door.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to figure out what Collins thinks he knows,” he sighed. He started pacing again in the hallway, tugging at his hair. “Why is he so fixated on us? On you? Did you say something that made him think we were involved?”

Simon froze.

“I didn’t. You were there.”

Something in his tone must’ve caught Johnny off guard.

“Oh don’t be like that, Si. I just want to keep his nose out of our business, keep the pups safe.”

“And what exactly do you think I’m trying to do?” He could feel his shoulders creeping up, tension building beneath his skin.

“I don’t know! Sometimes it seems like nothing at all! You just want to hide away here in your woods and pretend like there’s nothing going on.”

Simon wasn’t sure where the day had gone wrong. All he knew was that the man who he had poured his heart out to just a few hours ago was standing in front of him, snapping accusations.

“Take a walk.”

Johnny seemed to realize the meaning of his words as soon as Simon spoke.

“Si, I—“

“Get out. Don’t come back until you’re ready to have a civil conversation.” He would never put the children through a screaming match. They would be safe with him.

Johnny gaped at him, searching for words, but Simon just stood with his arms crossed, unmoving. With a huff, he turned and left, pushing past Price and Gaz who still stood in the living room.

“Soap—“ Gaz started, but he was cut off when the door was firmly shut between them.

The silence seeped into every corner of the cabin. The other two men stood awkwardly, looking between Simon and the front door.

“Um, I better go after him,” Gaz muttered before ducking out after Johnny.

Simon let out a harsh breath, dragging his hands down his face.

“Do you want me to stay tonight? The boys’ll probably go for a run to cool off,” Price spoke quietly.

“Yeah. Don’t want to be the only one here if Collins comes back,” he sighed.

Price nodded. “I’ll get some dinner together, you go be with the little ones.”

That night, Simon lay awake in the corner with the pups squeezed in close on either side. Hours passed. The light from the moon traveled across the ceiling as he stared at it, waiting for Johnny to come home.

But he never did.

Simon felt the sting of tears, but he blinked them away. He wondered when he would learn that he couldn’t truly trust anyone, no matter what his heart said.

As if to remind him of his mistakes, his cunt throbbed with the reminder of their afternoon together.

A mistake he vowed not to repeat.

#soapghost #fic #my writing #ghostsoap #ghoap #werewolf soap #smut

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trappers-cloak · 11 months ago

Text

The Buck and the Fox: Chapter 3

"Men in Sheep's Clothing"

a/n: after months of me agonizing on how to finish this chapter, here it is! we last left off with Diana heading to bed with her husband Eugene. Now this is where things are starting to pick up.

Tags: slow burn, female!oc x Arthur Morgan, hints of pining. this is very plot heavy - while it is a work of fanfiction, it leans into creating a compelling story within the world/story of rdr2.

TW: incest, dubious consent, captivity

word count: ~ 4k

Diana Wegner

Diana hadn’t expected to see Arthur at the ranch, but it was a welcome surprise. She was also sorry not to have said hello, but it would’ve been too much of a risk with Eugene home early anyway. Still, the thought of Arthur kept her through the evening's chores.

Eugene, having arrived drunk with his new, unnecessary stallion, put Diana and Seamus to the task of stabling the horse and feeding him. The whole time, she thought of Arthur, knowing that such thoughts were folly anyway. For Christ sakes, she’d only met the man once, yet here she was giggling and blushing about him like a schoolgirl. She couldn’t place her fascination with him, besides the small fact that he was a dangerously attractive cowboy who quite literally had saved her life. It was something out of a storybook from her youth. Even Eugene’s new horse reminded her of Arthur - this new, frivolous purchase was the same color and pattern as the man’s war horse.

“Missus Diana?” a question from Seamus broke her from her thoughts.

“Oh, um…yes?” she asked Seamus, hoping he hadn’t seen her in her thoughts. His smirk told her he had.

“I just said that I’ve got the rest of this. You best get on inside. Mister Eugene said he…wants you tonight,” he mumbled. He knew better than to tease her after saying such a thing.

Diana’s heart sank. Here she was, fantasizing like she was Miriam’s age, and she had to go do her wifely duties with a man she near despised. She sighed, and handed Seamus the reins.

“Gimme some of that moonshine. The strong stuff, this time,” she said to Seamus. He handed over his own flask, a stolen engraved hip flask.

“This stuff’s got some poppy in it, if you catch my meaning. Absinthe, too,” Seamus said. Diana took a sip, and winced. She tried to give it back to Seamus, but he didn’t take it, and nodded towards her.

“Another sip. You’ve…well, you’ve earned it,” he said. He was gentler than usual. These nights brought out the kindness in him. Diana obliged, with a big sip. This moonshine, whatever special stuff Seamus kept, had a way of numbing the senses, more so than other moonshine.

The world seemed to float, and Diana's brain slowed its thinking. A bead of sweat formed on her forehead, and she giggled. It took more of her effort to walk, one step in front of the other.

Eugene was waiting for her outside his bedchamber. Months ago, it had been theirs.

“C’mon, darlin,” he murmured, drunk as a skunk himself. He clapped her shoulder and not-so-gently ushered her towards the bed. His “loving” demeanor was gone, and as she turned towards him, his eyes were dark. At the sight, he shoved her towards the bed.

“Now get undressed,” he snarled.

Normally, Diana would’ve slapped him. The moonshine and the memories of Eugene’s rage stopped her. That, and she’d forgotten her knife. So instead, she did as he asked, and laid on the bed. Prepared now, physically and mentally, she laid there. Bare. Vulnerable.

She fucking hated it.

But she had never been more grateful for the poppy-laced moonshine. It dulled the sensations, kept her calm. Instead of the task being a misery, it was more of a nuisance. Something she had learned to tolerate, even if she couldn't imagine doing it sober.

She looked down halfway through the deed. Her dear lord husband’s gut was swinging, and obscured any view she might’ve had. It wasn’t stopping him. She allowed her mind to wander.

It wandered where one might think it did. Towards the figure on the hill from earlier. She supposed Arthur could be her if she’d been born a man, but that wasn’t really why she thought of him so frequently. She conjured scenes from a dime novel, and put Arthur's face to them. It made her feel almost good, especially if she closed her eyes.

As Eugene moaned, her eyes snapped open again, startled. He moaned again, and she relaxed. Until it happened again.

“Oh,” he groaned. “Oh, Miriam!”

Diana froze. Not a single muscle moved. Her husband was finished, now, which haunted her even more. His face, inches away from hers, gave no inclination that he’d known what he’d said. She turned over as he laid down beside her, and stayed staring at the wall until morning.

When morning came and the roosters called, Diana was up and dressed in the same clothing from the previous day. Eugene still snored on his side of the bed, and she prepared herself for the early departure. Her husband was a monster of a man on a good day, and a hangover did nothing to improve the matter.

As she crept downstairs, she headed straight for the kitchen, nursing a hangover of her own. The smell of tea coaxed her like a siren song, and she wandered towards the edge of the ship until she came face to face with Miriam. The pair started in tandem, and froze. A moment passed, and Miriam rushed forward and embraced Diana in a hug so tight it took her breath away.

“Oh, Diana!” Miriam whisper-cried. “What are you doing out in the open?!”

“Your father was kind enough to take me to bed last night,” Diana replied, sighing as she said it. Nevertheless, she hugged Miriam with a similar enthusiasm.

“O-oh,” Miriam said. She wasn’t shocked, per se, but such a thing is never comfortable to hear. “Was it…” she probed. She didn’t truly want to know, Diana could tell.

“It was…normal,” Diana replied, still in a soft voice. “But-”

She was interrupted when a maid came in. It was Miriam’s governess, though she hardly needed one.

“I think that will be all, Diana,” she said, a cold woman with an equally icy delivery. “Now go on. Mister Wegner will be downstairs any minute now, and you wouldn’t want any trouble, would you?”

Diana and Miriam froze once again.

“No. I wouldn't want that. But I would like to say good morning to my stepdaughter and eat a meal with little interruption,” Diana replied, trying her hardest to emulate the same frigidity.

“Mister Cripps has prepared a morning meal, has he not?”

“At this hour, likely not. And that does not preclude me from saying hello-”

“Miss Miriam does not need such tidings. There is no reason for you to confuse her further with your…habits. Habits and ideas,” the governess said. Her face was unmoving. She was winning, goddamn it. Miriam remained silent, a type of silence that Diana recognized. Fear.

“Now, Miriam,” the governess said, turning towards the petrified girl. “Our lessons begin at nine. Go get yourself ready,” she commanded.

“Yes, Missus Carmichael,” Miriam answered in a voice quieter than a church mouse. She squeezed Diana’s hand once before leaving, and was ushered up the stairs to her glorified cage. Diana was alone. She took another sip of tea, still coming down from her fear of Missus Carmichael when the true reality of her situation slammed into her chest.

Eugene, her husband of years gone by, lusted for his own goddamn daughter. Not his stepdaughter, not his goddaughter, his own daughter, by blood.

Diana rushed out of the kitchen and ran to the barn, hoping to catch Seamus before his work had started. She was lucky enough to find him alone in the barn, where the only prying ears belonged to the cows.

“What in the-” he started, before Diana slammed the door behind her.

“You’ll want more of that Poppy-shine before I start,” she said, grabbing her metal mess cup from her belt. “Now pour.”

He poured, but stopped her before she could take a sip.

“I’m out of that good stuff - I gave the last of it to you last night. This is still strong,” he said. Diana rolled her eyes, and again went to take a sip. This time, Seamus let her, and the burn of the moonshine slid down her throat like nectar. The taste was rich, like a sweet plum.

Seamus took a sip as well, and grabbed a piece of paper from his coat.

“Look, Diana, there’s no easy way to say this, but-”

“Eugene wants to fuck Miriam,” Diana said quickly. She couldn’t bear holding it in another second. Seamus paused, his mouth agape.

“What?”

“He said her name last night. At first I couldn’t believe it, but he said it again.” the gravity hit her again, and dread along with it. For once, Seamus looked surprised.

“Well…shit,” he said, taking another sip.

“That's your reaction? Seamus, we have to do something!” Diana was close to shouting. Seamus moved again to get the piece of paper. Diana couldn’t believe him.

“Goddamn it, we need to do something-” she continued, and he slapped the paper down on the table.

“Look,” he said. “Just look at it.”

Diana unfolded the paper and unveiled a bounty poster. On the poster was a picture of the man who’d saved her. In big letters at the top read:

ARTHUR MORGAN. WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE $5000 REWARD BY THE STATE OF WEST ELIZABETH, AND THE COMMONWEALTH OF BLACKWATER. IF FOUND, DO NOT APPROACH. ARMED AND DANGEROUS. CONTACT THE PINKERTON DETECTIVE AGENCY.

After a beat, she spoke.

“Where did you find this?”

“Cripps saw it at the station this morning. Poster just went up.” Seamus tried to gauge the expression on her face, to no avail. The gears behind her eyes turned and turned and turned.

Seamus spoke up again, seemingly uncomfortable with the silence. Even the cows had stopped mooing. “Now, I knew there was something up with this feller when his old man came and started spouting nonsense about so-called ‘lost goods’. I’d guessed the pair were thieves, until I saw this.”

“Why are you showing this to me?”

“Well, I thought you’d just want to know–”

“That I’d had a savior delivered onto my doorstep?”

“Wait, what?” Seamus looked confused. “I was just gonna warn you–”

“That there are bad men out there? Seamus, you do business with bad men everyday. I’m married to perhaps the worst man in New Hanover,” she replied.

Seamus sighed.

“Listen Missus Wegner, I don’t think you’re thinking this through. I also don’t even know what you’re thinking of doing!”

This gave Diana pause - he was right. She knew for a fact that she was angry, that Miriam was a caged bird, and that her husband had said his own daughter's name as he found his completion the night before. She knew that she loved Miriam like something between a sister and a daughter, and that she had never felt something like that for anyone else. She also knew that the man who’d saved her, Arthur, was a good man. All her silly fantasies laid aside, he had saved her life at his own peril, without the expectation of money, sex or goods, or any combination thereof.

She sighed for what must have been the umpteenth time.

“You’re right. I-I just need rest, time to think,” she said. As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes felt like they’d been attached to lead weights. The sleeplessness of the night sunk in.

“Climb up to the hayloft and sleep there. I’ll tell you if something goes down,” Seamus said, and Diana whistled for Pluto. Diana climbed up as instructed to find a bedroll amidst the hay. Her sheepdog bound up the rafters to join her, and snuggled up against her instantly. Before Diana fell asleep, she was startled by Seamus climbing up to pass her waterskin.

“Here, Missus Wegner. Oh,” he said, reaching behind him. He pulled out the bounty poster, along with two others. “I think these fellers are all working together. If you have some harebrained plan hatched involving that Arthur fella, you’ll probably encounter these guys too.”

“Thank you,” Diana responded, sleep beginning to overtake her. Seamus nodded, and started down the stairs. She opened the other two bounty posters, revealing the faces of two other men. One, a dark-haired mustachioed man named Dutch Van der Linde, and the other, a gray-haired older man named Hosea Matthews. She pondered the posters, and turned again.

“Seamus?”

“Yeah?”

“We need to save her. I will save her - even If it’s the last thing I do.”

Arthur Morgan

The gift box proved harder to balance on Ares’ back than expected. Ares was a stocky horse, but impatient, and loath to slow to balance a parcel on his back, and Arthur had had to slow the horse to a trot the whole journey back to the Overlook. By the time he had entered the forested trail back to camp, the steed was still restless.

Suddenly, another surprise- an unexpected voice came from the trees.

“Who’s there?”

The voice asking that question usually belonged to Bill or Javier- sometimes even Charles. This time, the voice was a different one- harsher.

“Micah?”

“That’s right, cowpoke, I’m back!” Micah came into view, his gigantic blonde mustache dripping with what must have been whiskey.

“And here I thought they were gonna hang you in Strawberry,” Arthur said. He tried to hide his disappointment at his comrades' safe return.

“You ain’t getting rid of me that easily! I don’t go down without a fight,” Micah retorted.

“Certainly had us fooled. You damn near gave Lenny a heart attack- the poor kid was panicking when he came back with the news!” Arthur said. The memory was a vivid one - Lenny had interrupted a meeting with himself and Dutch in a frenzy, panting and saying Micah was in jail in some ‘vacation’ town west of the Dakota River.

“Ehh, he’ll be fine. One day you’ll have to learn to loosen up a little, Morgan,” Micah said.

Arthur rolled his eyes and rode into camp, hitching his horse and grabbing the box from its back. He tried to hide his impatience to moderate success, but inside he was itching to know its contents. As he plopped on his cot, he did his best to open the box without tearing into it like some wild animal.

The cloak he pulled out was thick and the color of snow and soot. Sheep’s wool, by the feel of it. It had the recognizable smell of leatherworking material and livestock, plus a slight floral - or was it blackcurrant? - scent. He almost got so caught up in it, running his hands over the woolen decadence, that he missed the note at the bottom of the box. The green ribbon on the note gave it away, and he gently set the cloak down beside him to read.

Dearest Arthur,

Please accept this gift as a token of gratitude for saving my life just one week ago. Not a day goes by where I do not think of you and the kindness extended towards me. I am sorry that I had to cut our meeting short that day, and would love to speak with you - or share a drink with you - another time in the near future. Mister Cripps informed me of how delightful you were to have as company. I hope to see you again soon at Emerald Ranch. If you and your compatriots are still in need of money to get back on your feet, there is ample work to be found at the ranch, and Mister Cripps will happily buy any hides, if you continue your career as a hunter.

Warm regards,

Diana Wegner.

On the other side of the paper was a small addition.

P.S., if you should be in need of other business opportunities, feel free to visit and ask after myself or our foreman Seamus. I hope to hear from or see you soon.

Diana.

“Arthur?” Mary-Beth’s voice, like Tilly’s, carried itself on the air like birdsong. Arthur cleared his throat and looked to her, hoping she hadn’t been calling his name for the past few minutes.

“Sorry, Mary-Beth, I- well I was miles away, I’m afraid,” he said. The girl giggled, and responded.

“Aren’t we all! I understand. What’re you reading?”

“Just a letter, someone at the ranch southeast of here, offering some work. That and…well, they sent me something as a thank-you for helping ‘em out a few days ago,” he said, sheepishly. Mary-Beth noticed his expression, and visibly took note of the delicate cursive on the page he was reading, the packaging surrounding Arthur’s bed.

“A new girl, huh?”

“Nah - well, yes but…” Arthur trailed off. “Not in the way you’re thinking, so no need to get all excited,” he said.

“Okay,” Mary-Beth said, with a smirk. Like Tilly, Mary-Beth was like a kid-sister, barely eighteen years old.

Arthur folded the letter neatly, placing it in a spare satchel hanging by his bed, and picked up the cloak, spreading it out before him. It was large and surprisingly light- when slung over his shoulders, it felt almost like a blanket. Its comfort, combined with the slowly encroaching nightfall, looked to lull him to sleep. He was just getting to lay down, the cloak still on his shoulder, when a voice emerged.

“Arthur, my boy!” Dutch’s voice boomed over the ambient sounds of camp.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Dutch,” he said, “How are we doing? Money-wise?”

“Not so great yet. Have you managed to find a score? Have you done any collecting for Strauss?”

Arthur had to hold back a groan at the mention of Strauss. Even Dutch agreed that it seemed more dignified to be a bandit than to do work for the Austrian loan shark, yet Strauss still remained with the gang for reasons unknown.

“Not yet,” he said, “nor have I found a score. You know me, I’m better at carrying out the robbin’ than I am finding the people to do it.”

“I know, I’ve already asked others if they’ve found anything,” Dutch replied. “I’m sending some of the boys out to sniff around Valentine,” he said, turning towards the main campfire. “Bill, Lenny, you two head into town tomorrow. Take some of the ladies with you, and start scoping some stuff out. Micah, John, you two head to that ranch and see what you can rustle up…take Uncle with you, put him to work,” Dutch trailed off, looking around the camp to see who else he could delegate.

Arthur cleared his throat, which had become oddly tight at the mention of the ranch. Dutch had to mean Emerald Ranch. He spoke before he could think.

“Maybe we should just try to find jobs, Dutch. I thought we were lying low. I’ve already run into O’Driscolls, Hosea showed me some good hunting around here, and maybe we can just hide until Blackwater blows over,” he said. Dutch responded by staring at him, wordless. He remained quiet, an unreadable expression on his face, until Hosea spoke up, lifting his face from the book it was buried in.

“He’s right, you know,” he said. “And it’s only what I’ve been telling you this entire time. We have a good contact at the ranch, both for selling our goods and he’s the foreman there. Townsfolk will buy our stories more if we start looking for work too - we can’t milk the “laid-off worker” angle for long if we don’t start working around here,” he continued.

Arthur could see the gears turning in Dutch’s head. The need for fast money, a way to escape from all of this, was the first thing on the older man’s mind - but so was not getting shot to swiss cheese by the Pinkertons.

Dutch’s voice went to a higher pitch, like it always did when he was stressed. “Fine,” he said. “Everyone gather round! Guards too, get over here!” he shouted to no one in particular.

The camp denizens, sober or not, began to gather in a semicircle around the front of Dutch’s tent. His lover, the redheaded Molly O’Shea, peeked out from behind the front curtain - Dutch turned to her and took her hand before addressing the lackluster crowd.

“My boy Arthur here…” Dutch began, gesturing to Arthur with his free hand, “has, along with Hosea, convinced me that what we need now is not only money, but honest money. Good honest work. So that…” he paused again. Arthur had once found the words “pause for effect” in Dutch’s speech notes, and had to stifle a laugh to himself. Dutch continued. “That…is what we shall do. Tomorrow I want all those able to start looking for good, honest work. There’s plenty of ranchers, drivers, railway men looking for hands, and we shall supply it. Keep an eye out for scores, but do not do anything unless you bring it to Hosea and I first!”

“We failed in Blackwater because we tried to do too much too fast, and didn’t coordinate,” Hosea continued off Dutch. “We will save lives with this - ours and the lives of others.” it looked like Dutch was going to keep on strategizing to the gang, but a member towards the back, cleared his throat. Karen and Abigail turned to reveal Micah, raising his arm. Where he was trying to make the gesture seem tough, Arthur conjured an image of schoolchildren.

“While honest work seems a good plan for the rest of you…” he started, “some of us haven’t the uh.. temperament for such things, right boss?” he looked towards Dutch, trying to appeal to him. Dutch looked firmly back.

“It’s like Hosea said, Micah,” he started, but a quick look exchanged between himself and Micah prompted a change in Dutch’s expression. Arthur watched their faces, trying to channel his inner Hosea - read them, their thoughts, their intentions. He came up with nothing. Dutch continued.

“Any of you have any trouble, see me, Miss Grimshaw or Mister Pearson. We always need people at the camp and hunting if they don’t find a job,” he said. The gang gathered still, grumbled their assent, and stood there for a moment. The silence was heavy until Miss Grimshaw spoke up, with an authority befitting the de facto camp mother.

“Well don’t just stand around, y’all, get back to whatever it was you were doing!” This spurred the camp back into motion, as if they’d frozen in time beforehand. Most of the men made a beeline back to the campfire, with a convenient box of whiskey bottles beside it. Abigail took the arm of the woman from the Grizzlies they’d rescued - Adler, was it? - who was crying softly. Little Jack, the resident 5 year old of the gang, took the woman’s other hand, and the pair led the crying woman to their tent, tucked behind the chuckwagon. For about an hour, the entire camp resumed it’s normal activities; singing around the fire, chopping firewood, playing poker, and, of course, drinking.

After three beers and four of Uncle’s outrageous stories later, Arthur grabbed a bowl of venison stew and took the steaming bowl of Pearson’s cuisine back to his tent. Sitting down, he could hear Dutch’s voice faintly behind him, speaking in whispers. He took a bite, and wished that he’d had the stew Cripps had offered earlier. That had smelled like apricots and berries - in fact, it smelled like the cloak, spread out on the bed. Blackcurrant. It must grow near the ranch.

Dutch emerged from the small wooded area behind Arthur’s tent-wagon, his whispered speech ending in a “we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Arthur turned, expecting to see Dutch walking with Molly. The pair often rendezvoused in the evenings away from camp, considering Dutch’s tent - and bed - were smack dab in the middle of camp. But, instead of seeing Molly with a messy red braid replacing her neat plait, Arthur saw Dutch emerge…with Micah. Micah instantly walked towards the chuckwagon, not even giving Arthur a second glance.

“Thanks, boss,” was all the cowboy said. Dutch nodded, and turned to Arthur.

“Goodnight, Arthur. Let me know how you make out tomorrow,” he said, and ducked into his tent without another word.

That night Arthur had a dream; a red fox wandered the plains, and disappeared into a forest.

Only once did the creature glimpse back at him.

#arthur morgan rdr2 #the buck and the fox #rdr2 oc #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x oc

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