#then the one underneath the top left corner is the first design i introduced in khoc week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maeve-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Heroes

Pairing: Stripper!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Stripper!Steve Rogers

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings: Adult situations, alcohol consumption, allusion to mild cheating(??). More to be added later.

Summary: It’s your friend’s birthday and you’re dragged to the Heroes club. You’re not one for that kind of place, but you quickly change your mind after you get to play the damsel in distress for a pair of Brooklyn babes.

a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. This is the second story I’ve written in a while. Forgive me?

You normally don’t go to these sorts of places but it was your friend’s 30th birthday and it was on her bucket list. Luckily, you weren’t talked into planning any of it, just had to toss in some cash for the fee to get in and the never ending flow of drinks, plus the very special Birthday Girl Dance package.

It took you three years after the second Magic Mike movie came out to watch the first one. The idea of male strippers seemed odd. But, when you really thought about it, so did female strippers.

Nevertheless, the night ultimately wasn’t about you, it was about your friend and her birthday. You were happy to be there with your friends, enjoying the celebration and drinks, seeing hot guys take off their clothes was a weird added bonus.

Heroes was the club to go if you wanted to see buff dudes bare it all. Tara, the birthday girl, had been raving about it for months. She found videos of it online and shared them in your group chat. That, of course, had your other friends looking for more videos and all of them started to have their favorites.

“Girl, some of them even give private shows,” Sonya, the oldest and who was supposed to be the responsible one of your group, mock-whispered excitedly.

You tried not to roll your eyes as your gang was escorted to the front table near the stage. It was a semicircular booth where small round tables came up from the floor, big enough for drinks, but small and spaced out enough to allow for bodies to move around and in between.

Your host was a slender built guy on the younger side, barely old enough to be allowed in. He had a baby face and a boyish smile, but his muscles were well defined as the club forced him to be shirtless save for the small bow tie around his neck with a spider in the middle, and the tiny pair of shorts that cupped his rear which stayed there by what you guessed was his will or magic. Maybe both.

“Here you are, ladies,” he guided, instructing Tara to take her seat near the middle. “The name’s Peter- uh Spider-Man. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

That set off a fit of giggles from your friends which caused a full body flush from your waiter. His embarrassment tugged at your heartstrings. “New at this, Mr. Spider,” you asked.

His flush darkened and he rubbed absently at the back at his neck after he passed out the menus. “It’s Spider-Man,” he corrected you, “but is it that obvious?” You tilted your head and scrunched up your nose, parting your pointer and thumb a small ways apart. He laughed in return, his shoulders relaxing a little. You gave him a wink and a smile before the rest of your friends attacked the poor kid with their drink and food orders.

You felt sorry for the guy, but he seemed to have loosened up a bit since your small, playful banter and your friends ate up his boyish charm.

While you waited for your turn to order, you looked around the club to find its sleek design, not something you thought a strip club would offer. The walls were painted black, accented by silver framed posters of the dancers. Above each were white neon lights that spelt out their Hero name.

The rest of the booths were like your own, made of soft black cushions, black metal bases which were illuminated underneath by white light. The tables that sprang from the ground were polished silver necks with textured tempered glass tops to keep drink slipping and spilling to a minimum.

Of course, all of the booths surrounded the stage, which was mostly closed off by a thick black curtain, save for the large catwalk that split half of the sitting area in two. It was wide enough to fit three large men comfortably across it, shoulder to shoulder, and from some of the videos your group shared, they had done so before.

When Peter- there was no way you were going to refer to him by his Hero name- got to your order last, you could hear other rowdy groups start to file in. A couple of bachelorette parties, a girl’s 21st birthday, and a Happy Divorce Finalization Day were all joining you. Your friends quickly became friends with everyone in the room, so even if the show sucked, at least all of you could get drunk and have fun.

“Excuse me, ladies,” a voice rang out above you. Cheers burst from the crowd and every light in the room popped out and stayed out until the room fell silent. “Now that I have your attention…” A tall, dark man walked out from the split of the curtains. He wore a wireless microphone over his ear, an eyepatch over his eye which rested just above a self assured smile. Dressed in a fitted pair of leather pants and combat boots, he strode to the center crossroads of the stage and catwalk, “My name is Director Fury. I will be introducing you to your Heroes tonight.” He paused for another round of catcalls. “And hopefully we can save you from the Villains, too.” That drew out louder screams from the crowd.

“Now, what do we do to the bad girls like you,” he paused, looking pointedly to the crowd, “we contain,” he pulled a piece of rope from the back of his pants and tossed it into a group nearby, “detain,” he pulled out cuffs and twirled them around a finger before he threw those out as well, “and entertain.” With that, the bass dropped and the curtain flew open, behind Director Fury were the Heroes (and Villains) in all of their sweat slicked glory.

Once the Director stepped aside, the seven dancers on stage began their opening routine. Dressed in black vests and tear-away leather pants, the men paraded around the stage and catwalk to the thump of the music, pulling off pieces of their clothing as they went. The women around you went wild, snatching at whatever was tossed their way, fighting playfully for it. While it seemed incredibly silly, Tara was having the time of her life and you absently sipped at your Tequila Sunrise while you scrolled on your phone.

The dance number finished not two minutes later with a screaming cheer and standing ovation from the rest of the already slightly tipsy crowd. Director Fury came out while the dancers disappeared into the back to get ready, he worked the crowd, mentioning the brides-to-be and promised them a very special wedding gift before the night was over. “But I heard there were a couple of birthdays here,” Fury said, looking between your group and the one behind you. “Now, I’m going to get the young gun back there in a moment, but… a little bird told me that you,” he pointed to your friend, “are a very big fan of our first Hero of the night.”

Tara squealed and stood up, “Fuck yes, I am. God bless Captain America! ...and dat ass!”

It was obvious that Director Fury was trying to keep his composure, but the corners of his lips twitched like he wanted to join in on the laughter from the crowd. “Well, he is certainly blessed,” he replied, “and ladies, you will be, too, when you see him at full salute.” He winked and started to walk off stage, “Captain? Duty calls…”

Some sort of abomination of the Star Spangled Banner started to play, remixed with drum and bass. You looked up to see what kind of horror show would come from something treasonous as what bled from the speakers around you, you were met with over six feet of muscle covered in a fitted blue suit, fingerless leather gloves on his hands, and a round metal shield on his back painted red, white, and blue.

The Captain’s background was what looked like a large war ship with painted ski-masked bad guys spread throughout the levels. His stage allowed him ramps and poles to move up and down, which he used freely. He used a mixture of acrobatics and dance to move across the stage, tossing the shield around, “fighting off the bad guys” and losing his clothes in the process. By the end of the song he was left in just the leather gloves and a very tight pair of shorts, much like the ones Peter wore, except the Captains had the same pattern of his shield printed across the backside.

Tara’s screams knocked you out of your daze and you realized you hadn’t stared down at your phone at all during the Captain’s dance. You watched all five minutes of it and couldn’t tear your eyes away. Heroes wasn’t about getting drunk women horny, they wanted to put on a show, too. You clapped lightly, though it was drowned out by the cheering around you, but unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t unnoticed.

Fury was out once again and he brought up the first bachelorette of the night. He put her in a chair on the catwalk and gave her a candy-garterbelt. Then he asked her waiter, a guy named “Ant Man”, to remove it with only his tongue, which he happily obliged.

Peter cut off your view with another drink, one you didn’t order. “On the house,” he said with a lopsided grin and placed the red, white, and blue layered drink next to your nearly empty Sunrise. Before you could ask him who ordered it, the candy garterbelt was being tugged between the bachelorette and her waiter. It ended in a tongue-y kiss and the ladies went wild.

“Let’s hope her future husband doesn’t mind,” you muttered and turned your attention to your phone once again. Director Fury, thankfully, broke up the awkward scene on stage and began to introduce the next dancers. It was a pair, brothers, apparently, and they worked on the good versus bad troupe. Thor and Loki were opposites in every sense of the word. Thor was a large blond with a commanding presence. He had a bright smile and sun kissed skin that looked great in his red and gold trimmed briefs. But his brother was slender, graceful - almost cat-like, with dark hair and a mischievous grin all wrapped in flawless alabaster skin. They didn’t look like brothers, but they moved around each other like they had been together all of their lives, and knew each other’s moves.

You only caught half of their story, as you were already halfway done with, what you found out was called the American Glory drink, and half wondered if that was what Captain America tasted like. Fury was up again and had the young lady celebrating her 21st birthday take two shots and lick the salt from Thor and Loki’s still sweaty chests.

Peter found his way in front of you again and said that someone needed to talk to you about your card being declined. You frowned and excused yourself from your friends to find out what was going on. There shouldn’t have been a problem, you got paid the day before, there was plenty of money in your account.

You were taken to a hall that connected what seemed like offices, the dressing room, and the route to the backstage. “Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly, “they said this was the only way to get you back here. Gotta go.” He waved and jogged back out to the lobby.

Confused, you were about to shout out after him when you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you turned, you faced that wall of American muscle beaming down at you. “Hey there,” he greeted, a smile almost blinding you from its perfection. “Don’t be too mad at the kid, I asked him to get you back here.”

“What,” was all you could get out. He was thankfully dressed, but his muscles were straining against the white tshirt and the gym shorts did not hide the package he carried. Even with all of that, what mesmerized you most was his eyes, sparkling blue and bright with amusement.

“This next bit requires audience participation and he had someone in mind,” the Captain replied like he explained everything.

“We had someone in mind,” a voice corrected behind the door you two stood near. You tore your eyes away from the blond and eyed the wood barrier suspiciously.

“Don’t worry,” Captain America laughed, capturing your attention once again, “it’s nothing too dangerous or embarrassing. You just have to sit there, pretend to be tied up, and me and Buck will dance around you.” He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head in thought, “Well, actually, you really will be tied up, but we promise we’ll let you go once we’re done.”

“Or not, if you don’t want us to,” came the voice again, which made the Captain laugh.

You blinked up at him and frowned, “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch,” he shook his head. “We might dance on you a little, if you don’t mind, the crowd likes it. But if not, we can work around that.” The thought of Captain America in those tiny shorts grinding on you was a very nice thought.

“‘Sfine,” you shrugged.

He beamed and reached out to squeeze you on the shoulder, his touch lingering and his thumb running along your collarbone. “I’ll let the stage team know.” Reluctantly, he dropped his hand and knocked on the door next to you both, “Five minutes.” When he heard a ‘yeah, got it’, the Captain motioned you to follow him.

The stage crew took over and the Captain disappeared to get ready. You were told about the chair you’d be sitting in, the rope that would be tied around your chest and if you would be okay with it. There was some hesitation on your part, but ultimately you agreed. They brought you on stage, a winter wonderland of sorts and placed you on a log-like chair. The rope wasn’t tight, but it was obvious you were the damsel in distress.

“One of you was taken,” Director Fury said from the other side of the curtain in front of you, “by The Winter Soldat. Will she survive? Will she be saved?” All of the lights turn off once again and an industrial heavy beat thrummed through the speakers, rattling your bones. Red stage lights shone down on you when the curtain pulled open and your friends lost their minds.

To your right you saw a figure stalk out of the dark, red light bouncing off a silver metal arm. A mask covered the lower half of his face, but his eyes were trained on you like you were prey. His black muscle shirt clung tightly to his chest, one sleeve missing to show off his arm, and his black tactical pants stretched against his thick thighs. You could feel the shaking of the stage from the stomps of his booted feet.

Eyes wide, you stared at him until he stopped short of your chair on cue with the music. His nostrils flared lightly before he moved again, the music flowing with him. He slung one leg over the side over your chair, straddling you. The metal arm clamped the wooden back rest of the chair and he narrowed his gaze. Lights flash around you, strobing from red to white and back again until they settle on the house lights.

Soldat began to roll his body with the tempo, blue eyes locked with yours. You could hear the screams behind him as he dancing, but neither of you were paying attention.

His hips circled until he’s seated on your lap, you’re practically nose to nose. He brought his flesh hand to the side of your face and you could feel it trembling against your skin. With him that close you could hear him mutter in some other language that isn’t English, you’re guessing Russian, but you’re not sure. Either way, you felt crushed by his weight and you liked it. You didn't want him to go.

But the music changed and the lights started to flash again, red, white, and now blue mixed in. Captain America joined the two of you on stage and Soldat slipped from your lap. Just as Thor and Loki had before, these two moved around each other like they were made from the same mold.

During the fight, pieces of clothing were tossed aside and at one point you were freed from your bonds. Soldat pulled you up from your chair and up against his chest, your backside pressed so tightly against him you could almost feel his heartbeat. He moved you with him as he continued to fight the Captain.

Until seconds before the song ended and the music swelled, the Captain landed one good blow to Soldat and sandwiched you between them. The Winter Soldier recalibrated and recognized his old friend and you. He pulled the Captain into a big bear hug and then picked you up bridal style, taking you off stage with cheers from the crowd.

Once you’re all off stage, he sat you down with a hearty laugh. “You did a fantastic job, sweetheart,” the Soldier praised, running his metal hand through his chin length brown hair. “Couldn’t have asked for a better dance partner.” Flushed from embarrassment and arousal, you continued to stare at him until you were joined by the Captain. “I told you she’d be great, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, Buck, you know how to pick ‘em,” the blond agreed with a smile.

“Thanks,” you replied breathlessly, finally coming out of your stupor. “That was… fun. I’m just going to go back to my seat now, I guess.”

“Wait,” the one named “Buck” jumped to stop you, “we were wondering if you wanted a private show?” You heard about those from Tara. You knew that they were exclusive and very expensive… and sometimes had happy endings. They seemed to sense your hesitation because they both added in unison as they eyed you up like you were a four course meal, “For free.”

“I never turn down free anything,” you shrugged. The pair turned to look at each other and their smiles turned to wicked grins. You aren’t sure what you got yourself into, but you’re pretty sure you were going to enjoy it.

a/n: Part Two coming soon... with smut!

#bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes x you x steve rogers #bucky barnes x y/n x steve rogers #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x you x bucky barnes #steve rogers x y/n x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stripper!bucky barnes #stripper!steve rogers #stripper!au #heroes au

270 notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

smoke and fire (11)

word count; 12,58

summary; following the tragic events of your last call, Vince has given the team a few days off, covered by other shift rotations, and coping alone can be hard.

notes; prepare for a few tears, but a lot of smiling and blushing.

warnings; reference to death, mentions of a funeral service, mentions of panic attacks, reference to injury, fire & arson.

The first tear fell the second your front door closed behind you. It was like a weight had been sitting on your chest, crushing you slowly for hours, from the very second you’d woken up this morning.

It had all been numb, seeming detached from who you really were, meeting members of Chuck’s family, introducing yourself, answering questions from the medical side of it all as they all stood confused as to what had happened to their son, and having to remind yourself on a mantra that you hadn't been at blame, as the unwarranted guilt threatened to topple over you at any given moment.

A beautiful ceremony of life, words that made the back of your throat sting as you sat in the church pews and listened to tributes, and the slight smudge of mascara under your eyes that you’d tried to clean up as your eyes watered, but you’d held strong throughout the entirety of the funeral. The dress sticking to your body felt too tight, like it was clinging to every inch of your skin, pushing in on you and crushing you from the outside.

He’d had a fireman’s funeral, the team deciding that despite never getting the chance to pass his exams, he would be sent off the proper way, and Vince had offered no argument. The morning started at the firehouse, nine o’clock sharp, the lights on the van flashing silently with the sirens turned off. The hurst had guided the pathway, lines of firemen along the edges of the cemetery as his family had arrived, and Newt’s hand had found your own to squeeze tightly as the black car had rolled to a stop.

His father, his uncle, his brother, a childhood friend, his best friend, and Thomas. Those six men carried the wooden box holding your friend to the front of the church for the gathering, respectful and calm, his mother offering a speech dedicated to the team, and you’d almost broken on the spot. There was something mentioned about all of you, about how proud Chuck made them all every day, and how much he loved what he did. Apparently, he spoke about you all to his family, at every chance he got. You felt like they were an extension of the team by the end of it.

Your social battery was drained; the simple small talk and polite exchanges you’d shared with everyone, but it had been overwhelming. You were no stranger to funerals or death, but you’d never lost someone so close to you before. It was utterly terrifying, to care so deeply for a group of people, to allow your walls to come down and let them in, only for the ever-looming threat of losing them to always be hanging over your head, and yet, somehow, it only made you stronger.

You suspected Chuck himself had something to do with that.

You’d placed a rose the same shade of red as the fire engines down on the top of his coffin, and whispered your thanks to him, for being your first friend in firehouse ‘21. You wouldn’t be who you were without him, you weren’t even sure whether you would have been able to stick it out there without his support, and without him, you certainly wouldn’t have the family you did today. You had him to thank for all of it, and you’d never be able to repay him.

You were invited out with them all, the family had booked a small conference room to go to, to share memories and chat, but the idea of it seemed like it might throw you over the edge, and you didn’t feel like having any more public breakdowns for a while. Your team had seen enough of you crying in recent weeks, and you felt like you’d done enough of that. You knew that Chuck wouldn’t want you to cry, he’d want you to make a cup of herbal tea - something stolen from Gally - and to watch a movie with Adam Sandler in or a rerun of Brooklyn 99, and he’d want you to smile, because that’s what he’d encouraged every other time you’d been sad.

He had never wanted anyone to do anything but smile, he was a ray of pure sunshine, warm and friendly and enough to light up any room or mood. You’d been sure to tell his mother that, and she’d held you in a tight hug that left you feeling weak, like you were being pulled down to the ground, the emotions overwhelming.

And so, you’d denied their request to join them as respectfully as you could, because you didn’t want to mourn surrounded by people. You didn’t want to do your mourning in a formal black dress that was smart enough for the occasion and heels that made your feet ache, watching as Newt pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, and the rest of your team wander around in the formal firemen’s uniform that was usually reserved for special occasions with a happier undertone, breaching on being tarnished, and you wouldn't let that happen.

So, you’d driven yourself home, eyes blurring a little and the clock tickling just past midday before the dam finally broke and you were slamming the front door shut a little harder than necessary. One gasping breath as you stood still, a second to follow, and then you were kicking off your shoes. The tears fell freely, hot and salty and unending as you sobbed, shoes abandoned and soles aching as you reached up to try and roughly jerk the zipper on the back of your dress down.

As you peeled it away from your body, you felt like you could breathe again, the pressure having been the opposite of soothing and you worry you were going to tear it in your haste to get it gone. It was chucked across the room, haphazardly into the laundry basket in the corner, and your stockings did rip as you tried to shed them from your skin. Elegant and professional, your appearance had been perfect, but you had felt the opposite. You felt broken, damaged and wounded and messy, like your emotions and inner feelings were leaking out for everyone to see, your deepest and darkest fears on display to be gawked at, your innermost worries open for public viewing.

It was a churning pool in your stomach, one that chilled you from the core, blood running cold in your veins, and you shivered a little. The smell of your perfume felt wrong where it lingered on the air from where you had sprayed it before, and you collapsed down in the seat at your dresser, hating the face that was staring back at you in the mirror.

It was wrong, you looked so professional, pointed eyeliner and a flick of lipstick, more makeup than you’d worn in a long time, but it was a mask, a shield to hide behind as you put up your defences against the pain you were experiencing, armour to wear to hold the pain at bay for long enough, but now it felt heavy. You grabbed for a makeup wipe, two coming loose and then a third, before you were scrubbing at your face. Flawless skin and artful designs were scrubbed away, your flesh blotchy underneath and flushed from the day’s events already, and it was only growing sorer as you scrubbed your skin clean.

The tears kept running, silent and slow as they flowed, and you struggled to even find the strength to push yourself back to standing up. The cold air in your apartment made you shiver, the simple but comfortable underwear was already feeling uncomfortable on your skin, everything did, now. Your fingers were shaking as they turned on the tap, trembling as you washed your face free of any remaining grime until you felt fresh, and you managed to get a handle on your tears.

They stopped somewhere between brushing your hair up out of your face and rubbing some moisturising cream onto the skin that was red and raw from salty tears. Tugging on your sweats and rolling them at the ankle away from your feet. Unclipping the bra from behind your back, it felt like the final restricting garment that was binding you to the pain of the day. It was left dropped to the floor, alongside torn stockings, kicked into the corner. You were fishing out a long-sleeved shirt from your dresser, the comfortable maroon coloured one with the hole in one sleeve for your thumb to slip through, when there was a knock at the door.

Nothing too startling, it wasn’t too quiet with the traffic outside, neither was it dark as light poured in from the sun outside, but you were one edge, and so the sudden intrusion on your quiet was shocking. Tugging the fabric over your head as you walked, and adjusting it across your front, you stuck your thumb through the hole and wiggled your fingers a little to grow comfortable, before you were opening the front door.

You were a little surprised to see who was on the other side. You had expected a neighbour, possibly the grumpy woman that lived a floor below, but you hadn't expected the towering frame of a familiar firefighter. He’d changed too, smart navy uniform swapped out for some jeans and an oversized jumper that would make him look smaller than he was if it wasn’t for broad shoulders and tall stature you knew lived underneath. Soft brown hair was freed from a white cap, and his face held equally as much sorrow as yours did.

“Thomas.. what are you doing here? How did you even know..?”

“I remembered. From the night we went to the vets. You pointed out which window was yours, I counted the floors, and tried to work it out. The resident two doors down told me where to find you.” Pink tinged his cheeks at the confession, and you laughed lightly, his hands rubbing together as he moved to stand up fully from where he’d been leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “I thought you might need a friend right now.”

“You didn’t want to go to the little get together his family arranged?”

“Absolutely not.” He grimaced, shoulders sagging a little more. “I loved Chuck, I did, but I don’t think he’d be mad at me for not being able to handle another few hours of his crying relatives looking at me like I was the one who failed them, because I was supposed to be his lieutenant.”

“You’re not allowed to blame yourself if I’m not.” You whispered, his eyes sparkling a little in amusement as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, before his gaze was dropping down again.

“Look, I know my presence is unannounced, and that I am crossing all kinds of boundaries right now, but you were the first person I thought of when I got home and started feeling alone, and so I got changed and drove here without really thinking about it. I know it’s wrong, and you probably need time for yourself, and so I can go if you want me to, b-”

“Don’t go.”

He let out a relieved sound as you cut off his rambling, rubbing a hand over his forehead, and daring to look you in the eye. “Are you sure? I mean, my company right now, are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure about ninety-nine percent of the things going on in my life right now, but I’m pretty sure you’re one thing I’m absolutely certain of.” He smiled a little at your words, something soft and adoring flickering over his features, and he held his arms out a little wider for you.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

You didn’t wait, letting yourself topple forwards into his grip as your hold on the door to keep you steady and upright in your weakened state moved to him, letting him support you as your arms wrapped around his neck, his around your waist to pull you flush up to his body for support, and you felt like you’d finally found your comfort as his warm breath washed over your cheek, before his face was burying in your neck, and a sweet kiss was being pressed to the skin there briefly.

His hands dipped a little lower, no doubt feeling you tremble against his hold, knees buckling as you relinquished the last of your self-control and stability to him, to hook under your ass, and lift you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him hold you a little tighter as he stepped blindly into your apartment, kicking the door shut and leaning back against it as he held you, and the presence of wet tears and muffled sniffles against your shoulder wasn’t missed.

You raised a hand, brushing through his hair gently, and taking the time to comfort him this time. You pressed a kiss to his temple, and again, before squeezing yourself around him a little tighter and letting him reciprocate the actions in silent acknowledgement of your comfort, as he let himself break down now he was behind closed doors, much like you had.

Your feet slipped back to the floor a few minutes later, when his heart had slowed and breathing calmed, and the moment of insure weakness had passed, leaving you to lean against him, staring up at red-rimmed eyes as his hands rubbed circles onto your hips, silence being all that was needed.

“Thanks for letting me in.”

“Thanks for coming over.” Your words were barely even audible, shared into the space between you both, and he nodded his head, licking over dry lips, and clearing his throat slightly.

“It was really no trouble. Like, at all.” You smiled, forehead bumping against his chin as you leaned forward, before your cheek was pressing to his shoulder, and his arms were circling more fully around you for the hushed conversation. “I was hoping you’d let me take you to lunch, or something? We could hang out, try not to think about it all for a few hours.”

“God, it is lunchtime, isn’t it?” You rubbed at your eyes, gaze flickering to the clock on the wall overhead the open-plan kitchen counter. “I haven’t even had breakfast, yet, I felt too nauseous this morning to even consider eating something.”

“You’ve not eaten yet?” He pulled back a little further, his hands coming up to sit over your jaw, allowing his thumbs to sweep gently over your cheeks as he directed your eyes back to meet his own, and you shrugged, a smile on your lips.

“Oh, c’mon, Tommy. It’s not exactly anything new for us to miss meals in our line of work. I swear, that siren waits until I make something to eat to ring.” He chuckled, nodding his head, before pulling you forwards to press a kiss to your forehead, your hands bunching up in the fabric of his jumper around his waist, holding onto him tightly and hoping it conveyed what you couldn't say with words, a silent offering in gratitude for simply having his presence. “My body would probably be more shocked at a regular eating and sleeping schedule than it would one missed meal and a day without needing to nap to get through it.”

“Well, I guess we’d better start with breakfast, then.”

“You haven’t had breakfast?” You questioned, hopping up onto one of the bar stools beside the kitchen counter, and you watched with some form of amusement as Thomas moved across the room to open your fridge, clearly making himself comfortably at home in your home as he rooted through the contents.

“No, I’ve had breakfast.” He hummed, beginning to pull things out and stack them on the counter. “Well, kinda’. I picked up coffee on the way to the.. on the way, and I got a couple of muffins to go, too.”

“Muffins do not count. I bet they were chocolate chip ones, too.”

“Only one of them was chocolate chip!” He defended himself, the fridge rattling a little as the door closed and he turned to stare at you from the other side of the counter, eyes narrowing a little, before a teasing smirk was appearing on his face once again. “They only had one chocolate one left, the other was blueberry, which is fruit, so it’s basically like eating an apple.”

“You’re so full of shit, I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong that is, and how unhealthy that is, for a lieutenant of a fire station, no less.”

“Yeah, well, I have to live life a little unhealthily. If I didn’t how would I get cute paramedics to fuss over me?” He winked, the moment slipping away from you both for just a second as you gaped at him, feeling a warm blush race over your skin to find a home on your cheeks, and he chuckled to himself cheekily at his ability to make you so flustered, your eyes rolling but it was out of fondness as your head dipped. “So, pancakes? I’m really good at making pancakes.”

“You sure? Something about you just screams ‘I-cannot-cook-for-shit’.”

“I take that as a raging insult. I’m an excellent chef. An excellent and usually healthy chef, actually. I mean, I’m a lieutenant at a fire station, I’ve gotta’ stay in shape.” You scoffed, your words used against you again, and your eyes trailed along broad shoulders and arms for a second, taking in the muscles you knew to exist there that were hidden under a baggy jumper. “Are you checking me out right now?”

“No.”

“You totally are, you’re checking me out.” He gasped the words, reaching up to grab at his pecs like a woman would grab her tits, and you grinned at his actions, lips pursed together to try and contain it as your heels ached, and his jaw dropped, as though he was utterly modified and disgusted at the idea. “I feel so violated right now. Take your eyes off of me, this is disrespectful, my eyes are up here, you know.” He pointed up to his face, and you raised a brow, hopping down from your seat to around the counter, his gaze following you as you moved past him.

Pressing the button on the small countertop coffee machine and placing a mug underneath, you turned back to him, hands wrapping around his wrist to bring them down, your eyes dragging purposefully slowly over his chest, up to his face, and he there was a more serious look on his face as you did this time. Leaning up a little, his breathing hitched, eyes fluttering to sit hooded as he leaned in enough to bump his nose against your own, and you let out a breathy laugh. “It ain’t nothing I haven’t already seen, big boy.”

You pulled back, laughing at the shocked look on his face as he blinked to clear his mind, and you turned away to face the coffee machine, the man behind you stuttering a little bit. “You little tease.”

“Not a tease, maybe I’m just playing hard to get.”

You replaced the mug, making him a freshly brewed coffee too as soon as yours was finished, and Thomas was rooting through your cupboards to find the equipment he wanted. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or excited. Insulted, because, after all we’ve been through, I figured I’d at least have a place in the runnings, but excited, because you just admitted that I at least have a shot.”

“I thought you already knew you did.” You blew the steam from your coffee mug gently, and he found the mixing jugs he was looking for, his eyes twinkling a little as he glanced at you, turning back to the pile of ingredients he had made.

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”

“Hm.” You took a sip, settling yourself back in your seat, and watched as he began to crack eggs, clearly working on mental estimates rather than an actual recipe as he created a batter. “Well, for the record, you have a really great shot. Good ranking in the runnings, or whatever. Go for the gold.”

“Are you my top prize?”

“I could be.” You tried to convince yourself the blush on your cheeks was simply a bodily reaction to the heat steaming from the mug.

“Then I’m in it to win.”

“I hope so.” You whispered, the coffee machine beeping again as another cycle came to an end, and you nodded towards it, letting the moment be carried away, left on a high note, and not allowing yourself to overthink it or start to become doubtful of your decisions. “That coffee is for you, I made you a cappuccino.”

“I love cappuccinos.”

“I know, you like the foam on top so you can lick it off your upper lip.” He paused, glancing up at you, something you were unfamiliar with flickering across his features, before he was nodding his head.

He didn’t say anything, and for a second, you worried you had messed up somehow, that you’d done something wrong or freaked him out, or made an error, but you were certain you were right, you remembered Thomas telling you about his love for the frothy drink a few months ago when the station coffee machine had broke and you’d all had to make coffee from a kettle, and you’d seen him lick the froth from his upper lip with a grin every time he had one of the drink, when he thought nobody was looking, and he could be a child again for just a few seconds.

Then, though, you caught sight of the smile he was trying to hide, the way his face was lit up a little as he stared into the recipe, beating the eggs with a fork, a variety of other utensils laid out before him. He turned, placing a pan over the hob and starting it up on it’s lowest flame, before dropping a large wedge of butter into the pan to start melting, the lump sliding across the metal surface slowly as it began to heat up.

“So, these pancakes might be a little off. I normally use protein powder instead of flour, so, go easy on me.”

He added a large scoop of flour to the mix, milk being splashed in by eye-measurement only and some butter added, the pan popping a little behind him as it heated up, and you raised a single and slightly judgey brow at the unusual mix of quantities he was adding before mixing it. It seemed to work out for him, because somewhere along the line, it had formed a decent batter, and he was scooping out enough to slowly drop into the pan.

It sizzled at it cooked, his back to you as he worked at the hob, and you twisted a little more in your seat, facing forwards to the counter and resting your elbows on it, to be able to balance your chin on the top of your hands. Scanning your eyes over Thomas slowly, your cheeks flushed with heat a little as you realised you were very definitely checking him out, but you couldn’t help it.

His broad shoulders couldn't be hidden, no matter how big his jumper was, filling his frame widely. The muscles of his back became evident occasionally as he moved, the soft cotton of his jumper pressing to them but never becoming stained, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to cook as butter and oil in the pan popped, the veins along his forearms becoming a little more prominent each time he flipped a pancake over, or served it up onto a plate.

He was humming a song to himself, hips swaying a little as he occasionally mumbled a word or two, barley even audible to you as you listened in and you didn’t recognise the song but it sounded like something that would have been made in the 70s, your lips sneaking up into a soft smile. It was unusually domestic, it had been years since you’d ever had anyone to cook for in your own home, and you couldn't remember ever having anyone cook for you.

Well, bar when you’d been living at home, and a child, but that didn't count.

You weren’t blind to how attractive Thomas was; he was attractive in a beautiful kind of way. Soft chocolate-coloured locks and golden eyes that seemed to change shade with his mood, skin imperfect with constellations of pretty moles that only made him seem more like a piece of art. Of course, being the lieutenant of a firehouse team had its perks, he was often fitting in workouts at the firehouse on slow days between calls and you’d seen the stretch of his shirt across biceps and lean pectorals, and you’d been caught staring when he had comforted you after Chuck’s death. You’d been close enough to him so many times now that you were no stranger to the hard muscle under his clothes and soft but warm skin to cover it, or the long fingers on calloused palms that often found their way to you.

You’d just never really allowed yourself to be affected by any of it before now, putting up walls meant shutting out anything that might cause you to connect to someone, including physical attraction. Now, though, you’d been forced to take those walls down. You were happy about it, even if you weren’t happy today, but it meant noticing the more intimate things. It meant you noticed the scar on the side of his nose, almost indistinguishable until you’d been allowed close enough to see it, or the way the moles on his face continued all the way down along his flesh, but were more heavily grouped on his left side.

He turned, a plate for both of you in hand as the heat had been turned off, pan sitting there to cool, and he wandered over, pushing the condiments he’d assembled from your cupboards into the middle of the table, and you chuckled at the small collection of fruits he’d chopped on a separate plate; strawberries and apples, all you had, but he’d slipped something healthy in there.

“You want me to get the cutlery?”

“I found it. Third drawer across from the fridge.” He smiled, turning, and grabbing a matching set of knives and forks for each of you, before settling himself on the opposite side of the kitchen island, and you were already reaching for the syrup as he placed a piece of apple into his mouth, a satisfyingly loud crunch sounding out as he chewed it. Grabbing the knife and fork from the counter, your hands hovered over the plates, holding in mid-air before your first cut, and you could feel Thomas’ eyes on you. “Is it okay? I can make something else.”

“It’s perfect. Nobody has ever really cooked for me before.”

“You and Fry cook at the house all the time! He’s always making you meals.” He looked confused, brows pulling together and he sliced off a piece of pancake, stabbing it through a strawberry and sweeping it through some syrup, before chewing happily, and waiting for you to explain.

“No, that’s different. I mean, nobody has ever cooked for me before. Just made me food, in my own kitchen, for the sake of it. When I cook with Fry at the firehouse, that's cool, but we’re making lunch for everyone and he’s testing recipes. This is different. You didn’t have to come over and see me, or cook for me, or comfort me, but here you are.”

“Here I am.” He whispered, a sweet expression on his face as he chewed, eyes flicking between you and his food, and you finally chopped off your first piece, bringing it to your mouth.

You didn’t need to thank him, he already knew, just from your words, how much it meant and the message you’d been trying to convey had been shared. Every experience you made with Thomas was like something entirely new, you weren’t sure why or how it had happened, he was never someone you thought you’d end up in such a situation with, and if someone had told you six months ago that he was the person you’d be turning to in your grief, you’d have laughed.

It was good food, the two of you sitting quietly for a few moments, a grin on his face as you approved of his cooking, warmth spreading over his cheeks at the compliment, and it was well-deserved. You wondered why he didn’t cook at the house more often. The fruit between you was dwindling, though he had eaten the majority of it, and you were at least a third of the way through your food before he spoke again, this time, his eyes fixed on his plate, voice barely above a whisper, but it seemed to fit the delicate mood. “You looked beautiful today.”

You paused, swallowing your mouthful thickly, and Thomas’s fingers were tapping at the counter as the other one navigated his fork around his plate, watching it intensely as though it was the most intense action in the world, but he seems to sense your gaze, his lips pursed as he looked up, one shoulder rising and falling in a shrug.

“I think you always look beautiful, even right now when you want to cry, but you looked really beautiful today. Sad, heartbroken, but beautiful, too. In an epic Ancient Greek tragedy kind of way.”

“So did you.” You murmured, heat washing over your face and burning at you as his brows raised a little, and you let out a frustrated exhale through your nose. “Handsome, I mean. You looked really smart. And good. In your formal suit.” The word vomit was starting again, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his lips as he stared at you, but the hole was already being dug and you were just falling deeper, unable to stop it. “Not that your normal fireman stuff doesn’t look good, you look really good in that, too. Fuck, are you going to shut me up any time soon or are you just going to let me continue embarrassing myself?”

He grinned, toothy and wide, a sight that made your guts twist a little, and your stomach feel like you’d lost gravity for a second, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “I think it’s cute when you ramble.”

You were even more flustered now, cursing a little under your breath, and staring back down at your half-eaten meal, poking the top pancake angrily with your fork like it was to blame for your embarrassment.

“I also think it’s pretty cute when you get embarrassed about rambling, and you blush, and you get all flustered because of me. I like knowing I can make you flustered.”

“Shut up.” You scowled, and he chuckled, but gave in, quieting his laughter with another mouthful of his food, and silence took over again.

It was a few more minutes before the heat bled away, and you were able to look back up to meet his eye, finding the amusement in the situation now that it had passed, but the dark cloud of the day was still hanging over you both.

You poked at your food, stirring it around the plate for a while, and eventually, you had finished your meal, moving on to snacking on what was left of the fruit in the middle of the table. You appreciated the gesture, because you were certain that had you been left to your own devices you wouldn’t have eaten, you probably would have spent the whole day moving around in some kind of daze, wallowing in your pity before eventually dropping into bed. Tomorrow would have been a mess, and yet, it was looking a little more promising now.

“So, do you want to talk about how you’re doing?”

You paused mid-chew, looking up to face him as you felt more like you were choking down the bite of apple, rather than swallowing it, and you sighed, your bottom lip finding itself being worried between your teeth as you thought about it, before eventually shrugging. “There’s not much to say.”

You stood, moving around him, breaking away from the bubble you had created together in order to start loading up the dishwasher, any kind of menial task to avert yourself from the conversation, but he clearly wasn’t letting it go that easily. He stood, his empty plate following, slipping it onto the rack beside your things, and reaching for the pan next. “I know you’re not okay, but you’re not alone, because I’m not really okay either.”

“Tommy, it’s different.”

“No, it’s not. Don’t shut me out.” You closed the machine, loading it up with a capsule and pressing a series of buttons, the machine humming to life, and you turned around, leaning against it, arms crossed as you stared at the floor. It was more like a glare, as though the tiles of the kitchen had personally offended you, but it softened considerably when a finger hooked under your chin, dirty sneakers filling your vision as he stepped in front of you, forcing you to look up at him. “Stop blaming yourself, sweetheart. You can’t, because it’s not your fault. It was a whole load of unfortunate incidents that all came together, and you couldn't have known any of them. You did your best, you did everything you could, and sometimes even when you try your hardest, bad things still happen, but that's not your fault.”

You sniffed lightly, a soft sob leaving you before tears were beginning to slip free, and he wiped them away gently with his thumbs, both hands now cupping your cheeks, and you allowed yourself to once again be weak with him. Your hands were shaking, finding his forearms, smoothing along until you reached his wrists, the back of his hands, pulling his touch away from your face until you could wrap his arms around yourself and press your face into his chest.

He didn’t resist, instead, he lifted a hand to cup the back of your head, his cheek coming down to press softly to your crown as the other slipped around your waist to hold you close, and your cries were muffled as you clung to him. As you did, as you sought comfort from him and let your pain out, you couldn’t help but settle, decide that you were far too comfortable in his arms and with this team, too comfortable at this house to ever let it go. You’d always wanted a family, the bond that came with finding a group of people you could bare your very soul to, to find someone who would see you in your worst state as well as your best and still stick by your side, and you’d found it all.

Holding him a little tighter, you found the tears were slowing, misery was still weighing heavy on your heart, but it was a little easier to carry when you let them help you.

“Can you stay?”

“Stay?” He echoed, letting you pull back to wipe at damp cheeks, before you were nodding, and giving him the best smile that you could muster in that moment.

“Like, here, with me. If you don’t have anything else to do today.”

“Only thing I have to do today is you.” He smiled, and you knew there wasn’t supposed to be an innuendo in the words, but he seemed to realise the same moment you did, a laugh breaking free from your lips as his face flushed with a pink blush, sitting up on his cheekbones and spreading right to his ears, a shocked look forming. “That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.”

“I gathered that.”

“What I meant to say, is that I don’t have any plans except being with you, for as long as you want me to be here.” You smiled, letting the moment go rather than teasing further, because the colour on his cheeks was already too much.

“Wanna’ watch a movie? I’m pretty sure we could get all the way through one without any distractions, there’s no alarm going off today. Hopefully.”

“Knowing our luck, your building's fire alarm will go off.” He teased, his arm lifting up to tuck you into his side and settle back over your shoulders, guiding you through the space to the couch and living room only a few metres away.

“Well, if it does, I know that I’m the safest I could possibly be since I’m here with you.” You tapped the tips of his nose as you settled down, Thomas slumping into the cushions and spreading out a little as you sat beside him, legs crossed under yourself as you reached for the remotes, trying to reset your emotions as you scrolled through the comedy section, deciding that it was definitely the time for something light-hearted and fun. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you want is fine by me.” His hand found a place on your thigh, just above your knee, casual and relaxed, and you paused for a second. Glancing down at it, you realised your pause hadn't been from insecurity or anything unsure, but simply from the overwhelming shock of being so comfortable in the action. You didn’t feel put on edge, or tense, it just felt right, and you rested your hand over the top of his, his fingers spreading out to lace loosely with your own, and turning over to hold onto you properly. Pulling the appendage a little closer, your joint hands sat connected in your lap as you scrolled the movies.

You settled on something easy, something with a lot of laughs and giggles, and enough to boost your mood without even having to think about it. You shifted, spending a while sitting up, playing with the fingers of a hand that didn’t belong to you, before he’d seemingly had enough of that. Thomas lifted that arm about thirty minutes in, forcing you to settle back into the couch but wrapping that arm around your shoulders and pulling you backwards, tucking you into his side.

His fingers played with your hair, and you let a hand splay out over his stomach, and he felt like he was a permanent part of your life. It wasn’t a comparison to a piece of furniture, he wasn’t an essential but taken-for-granted piece of house-ware like a frying pan or a kettle, but instead, he was a comfortable addition that you didn’t feel like letting go of.

He was like a throw pillow or a blanket that went on the end of your bed, something for comfort and accessorising, something you could live without but would fight to have taken away if someone tried. He’d wormed his way in, you weren’t sure when or how, but he’d gone from hating you, to tolerating you, to accepting you, to caring for you, to something else. His nose brushed along your hairline every so often, soft smiles and muffled laughter as he kept his voice low, like the comments he made would shatter the mood if spoken above the whisper.

You never moved away from him. He never made you.

Rather, he held you close, and if there were a few times when the emotions all became a little too much, when the tears came again, when the crushing guilt you were working on dismantling threatening itself again, you would let the edge of his jumper soak up the tears and he wouldn't say anything, simple holding you close, and tracing patterns onto your skin as his fingers ran up and down your arm or held onto your shoulder, and if he got a little emotional partway through, or if at the only point in the movie when his arm unwrapped itself from around you, it was to wipe at his cheeks, or cover his face as he tried to protect what he had left of his emotional stability, you only squeezed him a little tighter.

You watched a second movie, one that you assumed was supposed to be a sequel to the first one you had watched, but you hadn't been able to follow the plot that much. Your mind was spinning, your thoughts like a tornado, ricocheting from every side of your brain.

You wondered how Newt was doing, whether he was still with Chuck’s family, whether he was sick of having his cheeks pinched and shoulders squeezed in a tight hug by older family members and swooning relatives. He had a way with words, he had a way with charming people; charismatic and cheeky. He was able to find a joke or a story for any situation, and something about him put you at ease just to be around. He was like medicine for the soul, patching you up from the inside out and making flowers bloom in spaces that had been cold and frozen. Maybe he’d had enough, maybe he’d gone home, or perhaps he’d called Derek for support. You hoped it was the latter, you had high hopes for the two of them.

Your mind also brushed over Brenda and Minho. You had no doubt that the two of them were together, that they were comforting each other. You would see her soon, you made a note of it. Calling people up and asking them to hang out wasn’t something you were used to, but you’d make the effort for her. You’d take her for coffee, or lunch, or simply show up with a bottle of wine and her favourite snacks, and take a girl’s night that you were in desperate need of.

You were picking at a loose thread that was dangling from the inside of his hoodie, a different colour to the pal jumper, it was more of a khaki green shade, and you suspected it wasn’t a thread from his jumper but from the t-shirt he wore underneath, and you jumped a little as you realised that there was a voice in your ear, closer and sharper than the television, which seemed or have been turned down and had become muffled, and you startled slightly, a chuckle following it as you moved to sit up.

Your eyes had been drooping a little, you’d been close to nodding off, not having even realised it as you absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread and let your thoughts take over.

“You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said, have you?”

“Not even one.” You mumbled, glancing around, before rubbing a hand over your eyes, and noting the late-afternoon sun that was beginning to lower towards the horizon, fading light as the hours ticked on, and you sighed, shaking yourself down a little and his arm slipped free from around you to let you stand as you wobbled a little on legs that hadn't been used in a while. “I was thinking. I got wrapped up in my thoughts.”

“That’s okay, I wasn’t saying anything important, I was talking about the movie.”

“I’ll be right back, just, hit rewind. And pause. I’ll focus, I swear.” He nodded, legs popped up on your coffee table and you weren’t aware of just when he’d made himself at home, an air of domesticity that he seemed comfortable in. The image was burned into your mind as you wandered away, closing the bathroom door and taking a deep breath. The cushions were spread out around him, he was nestled among them, head lolled back against the edge of the couch, feet popped up on the table, shoes kicked off by the couch somewhere and an obviously wrinkled patch on his jumper where you’d been leaning.

You didn’t want to let it go.

You flushed, the sound drowning out the occasional shuffling noises Thomas made as he adjusted himself, the squeaky springs in your couch, and then the sound of the tap to follow, lavender overwhelming your senses as your hand wash flooded the room with the pleasant scent.

You caught sight of yourself in the mirror, red-rimmed eyes and cheeks a little raw from salt, and you switched hot water to cold, cupping your hands under the faucet and bringing your hands up to your face as you leaned over, trying to ease sensitive skin and wash your eyes, wash away where eyelashes were still clumped together, washing away the residual pain. Like a cold shock, waking you up from the hazy slumber you were threatening to fall into once again, and the emotional turmoil of the day had been just too exhausting.

You snapped the scrunchie from your hair to sit around your wrist instead, the dull ache on your scalp eased as you ran your fingers over it, your hair sitting in odd shapes that only a hairbrush would be able to truly tame, and Thomas was looking at you already. “I want to take a nap.”

“I can head out.” He rubbed his hands along his jeans, reaching from the remotes as he lifted his feet down from the coffee table to the floor and switching the television off. You padded your way across the polished wood towards him, taking his hands in your own, and his brows furrowed a little. “What?”

“I want us to take a nap.”

A myriad of emotions moved across his features. He started with confusion, before he was moving to something between bashful and shy, a sweet smile following that and his expression smoothed over until he was simply staring at you, nodding his head slowly and twisting his hands more to lace the fingers of one hand together, and letting you guide him through the halls.

He followed after you, feet scuffing on the floors, and sliding in his socks, and he paused outside of the bedroom door as your fingers found the handle, pulling you to a slight stop, and there was a nervous look on his face.

“Are you sure?” You weren’t sure what he meant, and he seemed to sense it from the shifting in your expression, because his eyes left yours, flicking up to the closed bedroom door long enough to signal what he meant. “I just, well, I mean.. your bedroom. It’s a private space, y’know, and I know there’s this thing between us, but I just want to be sure you really want it.”

You only pushed the door open, stepping into it backwards and taking him with you, and his lips inched up at the edges into a fuller smile, gaze leaving yours to take in the room. It was still a little messy, you hadn't bothered to properly tidy up from before when he’d arrived and the blankets on your bed were still pulled haphazardly tidily from when you had crawled out of bed this morning with barely enough energy to face the day. He took it all in, observing the space that was so intimate to you, taking in every detail, and he watched as you pulled the curtains shut, blocking out some of the light to cast a darker atmosphere over the room.

His fingers were running over the books on your shelf, and you settled down onto the bed, edging your way up it and tucking yourself down underneath cold blankets, shuddering a little and peeling them back to make a space for him when he was finished observing. He took the hint, turning to see you, and stepping a little closer to the bed.

He rested a knee on the edge of the mattress, a hand reaching behind his head to peel his jumper up and over his head, and you didn't even bother to hide the lingering of your eyes on the skin that was revealed, before you were watching him shake his hair free and throwing his jumper away to rest on your dresser chair.

He crawled his way up towards you, pressed a prolonged kiss to your forehead, before flopping down onto the mattress beside you. You lifted the blankets up, tucking them around him as he made himself comfortable, one hand resting under his pillow beneath his head, and facing you as his legs crooked, and he adjusted the blankets more securely around himself. His eyes found yours once he was settled, something that was both awkward and comfortable at the same time, and he sighed as the feeling washed over you both.

You waited a moment longer, his other hand resting just above the edge of the covers that were sitting around your middle, before you gave in to the temptation swelling within you, and you reached out. Smoothing your hand over the top of his own tentatively, he smiles, turning his hand to weave your fingers together once again, like magnets, your hand now only having a home as long as it was wrapped with his own.

“Was Chuck your first loss?” His words barely reached your ears; they were spoken so quietly, and you were certain that in the entirety of the day, you’d yet to actually use your voice at the volume it usually was, in fear of damaging an already fragile aura.

“No.” You mumbled, swallowing thickly, your eyes sliding shut to hold back fresh tears that may threaten to rise, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter in support. “He was the first friend I lost, though.”

It went silent for a moment after that, enough time for you to get a handle on your emotions, before you were opening your eyes back up to meet swirling honey-brown that were watching you through a somewhat sleepy gaze. “The first loss of someone I really cared about was hard. His name was Ben.”

His voice cracked a little as he spoke, and you dared to shuffle an inch closer across your pillow towards his, the bedding barely even making a sound as you moved minutely. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to. I want you to know about me.” He let out a shaky breath, and you realised that this was perhaps the first time he’d spoken about it since it had ever happened, and so it was just as therapeutic for him as talking about Chuck was for you, even if you didn’t want to. “It hit hard, I liked him, he seemed like a cool guy. He was a lieutenant candidate with me, we were training together. It was competitive but all in fun and games, nothing serious. He was better than I was, he’d been preparing longer, he was definitely going to get the promotion when our house lieutenant retired. He’d been there years, I’d only been there for three months, but it felt like three days.”

You chuckled a little at his words, his expression brightening a little at the sound, seeming to perk up just slightly, and he tugged you a little closer, your cheek pressing to the end of your pillow as his own head remained firmly planted in the centre of the opposite one.

“We got trapped, burning building, it was all coming down. Nothing new. I was trained for the situation, and I tried so hard to get to him, but I couldn’t, he took a piece of debris straight into his abdomen, he was dead before I’d even made it across the room.” He choked down a lump in his throat, and your heart cracked a little in your chest at the broken look that flicked across his features. “I blamed myself for so long. I kept going over the moment, so sure there was something I could have done, that I could have run faster, asking myself if I hesitated just because of the job I wanted that he would have gotten.”

“Tommy..”

“I did all I could. I did my best. I know that now, and I don’t feel guilty, but sometimes it just hurts to think about it.”

“Thank you for telling me.” You could see that it was hard for him, and that he was reopening old wounds just to make you feel better, and it was a silent promise, something more permanent and solid, a confirmation that he was here for you, and that he wouldn't let you fall. That he was inside of those walls now and that he didn’t plan on leaving any time soon, his thumb playing gently with your own as you fell quiet once again.

“Newt’s first loss was a guy called Alby.” He eventually spoke, and you looked up to him again, brows raising slightly. “Before I even joined this firehouse. I remember Newt telling me about him, though. It took Newt a long time to get over it. He was new, basically a candidate, if they have that thing for paramedics. Do you? Have that kinda’ thing for paramedics?”

“We call ‘me greenies. Because on their first few cases, they usually look a little green, and throw up.”

“I like that. Greenies. That’s good.” He chuckled, and you shrugged one shoulder, letting him continue when he was ready. “He was the greenie, I guess, and Alby was the house chief. He took Newt under his wing, fresh outta’ the academy, early graduate at just twenty, and they became good friends. About a year in, they got in some trouble, Newt never really told me the full story, but Alby died on the stretcher to the hospital. Newt tried to pump his heart all the way there, he was sure that if he just kept pumping, his heart would start beating on its own again. It didn’t.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, a pang of sadness for your best friend racing through your veins, and your eyes flicked over the edge of his pillow, contemplating getting a little closer, but he seemed to make that decision for you, shuffling himself up further toward you until his face was balanced on the edge of his pillow like yours, the soft pants he let out occasionally able to felt against the tip of your nose.

“Then, of course, there’s Brenda.” Your heart sank at the mention, and you knew she had to have lost someone along the line somewhere, but you hated the tone in his voice. “Arguably, the worst of them all. She really was the candidate, at a firehouse a few miles over, with her brother. He was a couple of years older, his name was George, he inspired her to become a firefighter. Apparently, they played firemen together ever since they were little, she followed in his footsteps.”

“I never even knew she has a brother.”

He lifted your hands up, instead of stretched out between your bodies, they were folded up near your faces between you both, resting on the mattress and holding tightly. “He was on Squad, she was on Truck - of course - and the Squad team got trapped on an upper floor. Everyone but her brother made it out. She finished her candidacy, passed her exams, and transferred to a new house, our house, she needed a fresh start.”

“Not that I don’t want to know, but, why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I want you to know that you’re not to blame, and that everybody blamed themselves after a loss, but we all moved on, because we found each other and we let ourselves grieve without holding onto it.” He lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, and you watched his lips move slowly along your hand, dragging along your skin.

“My first-ever loss on the job was a patient, in my first month. A stab wound victim, he died on the way to the hospital, while I was trying to hold the wound shut. I considered quitting, it hurt, not like this does, but it hurt because I felt like a failure.” Your smile only widened as his kisses moved as far as your wrist, his face inching ever closer to your own, able to taste the sweet syrup still on his breath from your shared late-breakfast hours ago.

“I’m glad you didn’t, because if you had then I wouldn’t get you now.”

His nose bumped against your own, his lashes tickling your cheek as lids lay closed and your own followed, darkness surrounding you as every other sense went into overdrive on him. The smell of his cologne, the feel of his nose brushing against yours and his breath tickling your lips, the tingle that shot along you at the barely present brush of his lips that you wondered if you were imagining it as so light when he adjusted himself on the cushion, but the connection you were waiting for never came.

Instead, you caught the sound of a soft sigh, and his hand squeezing a little tighter around yours, before he was letting go, and begging his hand up to sit over your waist under the covers, fingers spreading out until they reached your spine.

“Tommy?”

He hummed, nose nudging a little more roughly against yours as he’d begun to fall away. “Yeah, angel?”

“You’re not gonna’ kiss me?” Something breathy resembling a chuckle left him, and the hand from your waist ran up along your body, evading goosebumps in his wake until he was cupping your cheeks. When your eyes opened, it was to find he had already taken that step, watching you fondly, pulling away enough to rest on his pillow once again.

“No.” He eventually gave in, seeming to be lost in thoughts, and you felt your features rumple with confusion and disappointment. “Oh, sweetheart, I want to. I really, really want to. Have for a while, actually, but not now and not like this. You’re sad and I’m sad. Every moment we’ve had so far that brought up the chance to kiss you has been stressed, depressed and near-death.”

“But you are going to kiss me, at some point?”

A sleepy smirk, that had way more of an effect on you than it should be allowed to have, and he seemed to know it too, because it only got wider. “Oh, definitely. But when I kiss you, it’ll be amazing, and breathtaking. When I kiss you, you’re going to feel it. It’ll make you a little weak in the knees, but that’s okay, because I’ll hold you up. It’s going to be perfect, it’ll be a kiss you’re never gonna’ forget, so I don’t want our first kiss to be when we’re sad.”

You didn’t know what to say, a long beat passing, before your lips were pressing together, and you were unable to contain your grin. “Well, okay, then.”

You moved forwards, his laughter only increasing as your face pressed into his neck, rolling him onto his back as you let your full body weight fall against him, his arms wrapping tightly around your back. You pressed a kiss to his neck, any spot you could reach, and the deep and rumbling laughter he let out was replaced with something softer and cracking, lighter pitch as he bordered on giggling, squirming a little as you kissed just above the patch, sensing a weakness in him.

You moved up, before eventually, he was giggling without restraint, squirming at the tickling feeling over the featherlight kisses you pressed to his jaw.

“Alright, alright, cut it out, before I lose all of my masculinity.” He was pink along his cheeks when you propped yourself up over him to get a better look at his flushed face, sparkling eyes peering up at you with messy hair and a dopey smile to match, and that sight was definitely something you could get used to seeing.

This was all new to you, it was ever-changing and constantly evolving, it was unsteady and unsure and it made you feel nauseously anxious and yet ecstatically excited all in one, and you leaned down, the promises he’d made were you giving you the confidence to so so as your forehead pressed to his. “Nap?”

“Cuddle?”

“Yes.” He beamed, twisting his body like you weighed nothing until you were on your side against the mattress again. He pulled you over, adjusting you on your side to face away from him, before pulling you back into his body.

His arm wrapped around you, one spread out under the pillow to support your head, and you weaved your fingers with the other, bringing it up to your mouth to kiss the back of his hand like he’d done for you. He was resting behind you, legs tangled together as your bodies sat snugly to one another and he held you tight in a gripping hug, and you were able to drift off to the steady beat of his heart against your back and the feel of his body surrounding you.

“You know, it’s rude to text when you’re having dinner with someone.” you jibed, his gaze flicking up from his phone as his elbows rested over the empty plate on the counter, lamps making his skin look more golden and highlights in his hair seeming to stand out as the light outside had faded, the evening meal being the next thing the two of you shared; chicken nuggets from the bottom freezer drawer and homemade wedges as he refused to eat curly fries.

“It’s not my fault you’re taking ages to eat.” You scoffed, swiping another nugget through some of your tomato ketchup, and lifting it on your fork to take a bite. He picked up his discarded fork, stabbing it into one of your nuggets, stealing a smear of ketchup that left a mess on the plate, and putting the whole thing into his mouth at once, winking as you protested weakly. “Besides, I’m talking to the group.”

“How are they all doing?”

“They’re good. As good as they can be. They want to meet up for drinks in a little bit, they’re headed down to the bar we like.” You finished your food, placing your knife and fork down to match his, and chewing the rest of your mouthful, considering it all, and his attention was back on his screen as he typed away.

“Can I come?”

He paused, looking at you over the device, before turning it off and putting it down on the counter, the buzzing and lighting up going ignored as he stared for a second. “Seriously? I just, I mean, you’re up for it?”

He stumbled over his words a little, he didn’t mean to come off as rude and you knew it, and so you let it slide, shrugging and smiling a little as you hopped down from your seat to put the plates in the sink to be washed later. “You said that everyone else got past their sadness by being together. I’ve never had anyone before, but I would like to be with you all now.” His seat scraped along the floor, and a second later, arms were wrapping around your waist from behind in a tight squeeze, shocking you a little as he did, and you straightened up, twisting in his hold to face him. “Is that really so shocking?”

“A little bit. We’re kinda’ used to being shut out. They’re all going to be surprised.” He tapped the end of your nose. “A good surprise, though.”

“Well, I can go change into something that isn’t sweatpants, and we can go.”

His eyes dropped down, taking in your outfit as he let you go, seeming like he’d only just noticed your attire, and you wandered away, leaving him to whatever he was going to do, confirming his arrival to the rest and getting his shoes on, while you tried to find some suitable clothes.

Once you had pulled on a pair of jeans and a more comfortable and bar appropriate top to replace your pyjamas, you folded them, resting them on pillows that had only just gone cold, before straightening the sheets out, erasing all evidence of the nap you’d taken as your bed was reset. A pair of shoes came next, hopping about a little bit to get them on, before running a brush through your hair and checking you looked presentable enough to go out. There was no doubt that Brenda would look like a supermodel, she always did, grieving a friend or attending movie night, she could put everyone else to shame, but it was just another thing you loved about her.

As soon as you stepped out of the room, there was a whistle meeting your ears. Thomas had found his jumper again and pulled it back on, his shoes too, phone tucked into his pocket as he beamed at you, and you rolled your eyes, walking straight past him to the coat rack to find your belongings as you got ready to go.

“Oh, shut it.”

“Why? You gonna’ get all cute and flustered, blush for me a little bit? Sweet and shy?” He was teasing now, and you scowled, pulling on your coat and hiding your face from him as you grabbed your keys, batting yourself down for everything you’d need and finding it already in your pockets.

“I’m kicking you out.”

He laughed, wandering past you and into the halls of the building, letting you flick the lights off before locking up, and he offered his arm to you for you to link your own through, before guiding you down the corridors to the elevator.

A short car ride, Thomas holding the door of his car for you to let you in before opening it for you again when you arrived, commenting both times about something gentlemanly, before his hand was finding yours as the car lights flashed to signal it’s locking, and a fresh wave of anxiety was washing over you.

You wanted to see your friends and be with them, you truly did, but that didn’t make it any easier to take yourself into a crowded place when you were in such a vulnerable place. The opening of the door made muffled snap into sharp surroundings, the bar filled with people, crowds weaving among one another, and Thomas took the lead, shouldering through the people milling around the entrance politely. The cold air of the outside was overwhelmingly different from the stuffy inside, the smell of liquor and sweat overwhelming your senses, but it wasn’t a smell you were unfamiliar with. The music pumping through the floor was vibrating right up along your bones, pooling in your gut, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter as the crowds cleared once you passed the high tables and the dance floor.

You could just about see your friends, gathered around the largest booth with extra chairs pulled up, bodies constantly weaving in and out of your sights, blocking them from your view. Lips brushed your ear, a jolt of electricity making you jump, before you turned to find Thomas, his head ducked to speak to you but eyes flittering over the scene.

“I’m going to go buy everyone another round. What d’you want to drink?”

“Uh..” Your words died out, a little overwhelmed at the sight before you, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Just something cold and refreshing, maybe fruity. I don’t know.”

“I got you, don’t worry. Why don’t you head over to the table?” He gave you a final lingering stare as you nodded, before the two of you were parting, and you were left to try and make your way toward the table. Luckily for you, it was only a few metres upon leaving Thomas’ side that Brenda spotted you, her entire face lighting up and glass slamming down onto the table, before she was practically climbing over the men to get out of the booth, and all but pushing people out of the way to get to you.

A tight hug as she rocked you from side to side, clearly tipsy as she spoke faster than she normally would while mumbling into your ear about how happy she was to see you. The story Thomas had told you came back to mind, and you didn’t mention it, but you wrapped your arms around her just as tight and held her to you, a show of your love for her, belated sympathy for the tragedy, and comforting her as she needed it, weak inside even if she didn’t show it right now.

Newt followed, cheering a little, hair messy and cheeks flushed with warmth from the drinks he’d had and the temperature in the bar, and you were already beginning to grow overheated. He hugged you next, walking you backwards to the table as you giggled, and settling back into his seat as several other welcomes and greetings echoed in their place. You couldn't help it, the smile that broke free, the way you fitted in so perfectly, your anxiety melting away just from being with them.

“You’re here!”

“Is that okay?” You teased, Brenda shuffling back into her seat at the back of the booth, nodding avidly as she sipped at a glass of gin through a thin straw.

“Of course! We just didn’t expect you, you haven’t been answering your phone all day.” Your brows furrowed, hands digging into your pockets to find it. “I was worried about you.”

You located it, metal cold to the touch from where it had been abandoned for so long, and you realised that the last time you’d checked it had been before turning it off as you entered Chuck’s service, not having a chance to turn it back on before Thomas had arrived, and stole all of your attention solely and unwilling to share.

Turning it on at the side, the device flashed back to life, and you waited a few moments, before it reset itself, and all the notification you had missed began to flash through one by one. Multiple missed calls from various members of the team, the oldest of which begging Thomas, probably calling to let you know he was coming over, before alerts from only a few minutes ago, the groupchat you all had with recent notifications, and you chuckled at the volume of them all.

“Sorry, my phone had been turned off all day. I wasn’t ignoring you, I swear.”

She shrugged it off, and you placed your phone down to be able to shuck yourself of your coat, the heat growing stifling with the extra layer on.

“How’d you know where to find us? How’d you know we were here?” Newt piped up, and you let your cat hang over your arms, turning to face him.

“I, um, Thomas. He told me you’d all be here.”

“But I thought your phone was turned off, so-” He cut himself off, brain seeming to catch up in his slightly inebriated state, and you were grateful that the heat in the room would hide your blush as your skin was already flushed. “Were you with Tommy today? All day?”

An undeniably cocky grin split his face open, matching expressions following gasps that echoed around the table, and you scoffed, placing your coat down on the heap that had been built. “Maybe. It’s not a big deal.”

“He told me he was going to check up on you. I figured he meant, like, call you or something. He came to see you?”

You shrugged, the questions suddenly being shot at you, among teases and winks that made you stare at the floor, bombarded with gentle humour from your team. Newt was through the roof, Brenda was yelling louder than all of them about her ‘ship’, some gazes being given over to her from strangers, and Minho was trying to shush her while laughing. Gally was simply grinning like the Cheshire Cat into his beer, and your head was spinning too much to even process anybody else’s questions or remarks.

“Alright, well, I’m not drunk enough to start this conversation with you all.”

“Well, where is lover boy, anyway?” You rolled your eyes at Newt, before tipping your head back towards the bar.

“He’s getting you all a fresh round of drinks.” Your retort resulted in a cheer from them all, hands banging on the table in excitement; empty bottles, glasses, and cans rattling as the surface shook. “I’m going to go and see if he needs any help.”

“You spent the whole day with him, can’t we keep you for a little while?” Newt pouted, and you stepped away, sticking your lower lip out to mock him a little, before flipping him off, and making sure to wave the gesture at the rest of them for good measure, chuckles taking up all around.

“No, because you’re teasing me, and I need at least two shots to handle that.” He raised a brow, a mumble of ‘touché’ spoken into his beer and he smirked, before you were turning and weaving to the bar.

He wasn’t hard to find, tall and messy hair unmissable once you were set on him, and as you got closer, you realised it wasn’t the bartender he was talking to. A woman, not too far from your own height, dark curly hair and tight jeans, a blue eyes that were piercing as she spoke to him, and it seemed to be a hushed conversation as she leaned on the bar against him, two trays of drinks stacking up beside Thomas, his wallet sitting out on the bar.

You considered turning back, letting him have his privacy with whoever he was speaking to, and you paused in your path, ready to turn before his eyes were moving from her face to you, lighting up a little as he smiled, and there was no way you could backtrack now. He’d seen you, you had to at least go over and explain yourself, his attention moving back to the woman.

Her words went silent as you approached, and you smiled politely, her gaze dragging over you, before she was offering a polite smile herself upon realising you were stopping by their sides, and not just passing by.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just realised you might need a hand with the drinks.” You pointed to the two trays building, an empty laugh leaving you all, but the atmosphere was still tense. “You want me to come back in a few minutes, instead?”

“Yeah-”

“No, now’s fine, we’re pretty much ready,” Thomas promised, the woman by his side frowning, and you grimaced at the tension continuing to rise, gaze moving between them for a second. Thomas turned, paying for the drinks with a swipe of his card, and nudging a try toward you, while picking up the other himself. “I appreciate the help.” He mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple as you tried to balance the drinks, and you smiled softly, eyes catching his, hoping the affection was returned without you having to lean up and actually return it, risking toppling all the drinks you were holding. “I gotta’ go. I’m sure we’ll catch up or something another time.”

You stepped away from the pair, at least trying to give them a second's privacy without lingering, slow steps away from them and back to the table. “My number is the same, still. Call me, alright?”

He didn't reply, not verbally at least, Thomas falling into step with you a second later, and you couldn't bite back the curiosity on the tip of your tongue as no introductions had been made. You didn't know many other people in town, and if you were going to stay, it was probably wide that you got to know your neighbourhood; “She seemed polite. Who was she?”

He glanced at you, a complicated look on his face, and you realised it must be deeper than you thought, a list of names and suspicions moving through your mind, before he sighed away his worries and shook his head lightly. “Nobody important.”

You placed the drinks down on the table, accepting his answer, and the group shuffled up to make room for you all, greeting their lieutenant and thanking him for the refills as they grabbed their drinks. A bottle of something fruity and fizzy was placed in front of you, and it seemed satisfying enough, you weren’t overly picky about it, and it tasted fine as you took a sip. Perching on the leather booth, an arm you had grown familiar with throughout the day returned to sitting over your shoulders, and you settled into him without hesitation.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile, feeling at home as you sought comfort with your friends, moving on together, and letting your burdens be carried by friends and not just yourself for the first time in a long, long time.

#thomas #thomas the maze runner #ff!tommy #firefighter!tommy #the maze runner #thomas/reader #thomas x reader #smoke and fire #SAF #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut

221 notes · View notes

hangovercurse · 4 years ago

Text

Why Are You Here?

What happens when Y/N and Colson catch each other in a lie? And what could possibly happen on the bathroom counter at 12:05 am?

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), unprotected sex, cursing, probably some more idek.

A/N: I know people have done this before, but I fuckin love this song and this plotline

Word Count: 3444

The harsh light coming through the blinds woke you up, your eyes instinctively closing. You groaned as you came to realize where you were, the arm laying on your hips your first clue. You threw the tattooed arm off of you, sitting up and dangling your feet over the edge of the bed.

The man in your bed groaned, reaching out for you. You chuckled, finding the shirt you wore last night on the floor and throwing it on, pulling your panties up your legs. “C’mon Colson, it’s 10:45, you know the rule.”

He grumbled again, rolling onto his back. “The rule says I still have 15 minutes.” His arm reached up to cover his eyes from the light as you chucked his shirt at him.

“If you want to walk out of my house naked, be my guest. But if you’re still in here after 11 the deal’s off.” You walk into the bathroom, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. You hear the blond man follow behind you, seeing him in the reflection. He had his boxers on, which was a start at least.

He came behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and dipping his head to connect his lips to your neck. “So,” he started, pressing a kiss to the skin, “I’m not gonna-“ another kiss, your eyes closed, “be in town-“ you let a small moan fall from your lips, “tonight.” His lips paused at your ear, his hot breath hitting the sensitive skin. “So, I guess you’ll have to find some way to entertain yourself.” He smirked, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

You smiled, your eyes darting to the watch on his wrist. “7 minutes.” You whispered, walking out of his arms and back towards your bedroom. “I’ll probably just stay in again tonight, without you this time.”

You sat on your bed, watching him struggle to pull his jeans up. You giggled as he searched for the shirt he wore the night before, finding it hanging from your lamp. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then?” He asked, walking over to you.

“If you’re lucky.” You grinned. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, and letting you go with a smirk. “2 minutes.” You whispered. He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing up.

He let go, biting his lip and walking backwards towards your door. “Tomorrow night. My place.��

You nodded, a small smile on your face as he turned, his shirt still in his hand. You watched the way his back moved as he strutted out of your room, the toned muscles accentuated at every step.

Hours later, you got a text from Matt, better known as blackbear.

Friend of mine is throwing a party tonight. Come with?

You and bear had been friends for a couple months now, meeting, surprisingly, through Colson. You were just friends, but you loved partying with him. He was fun. And if Colson couldn’t be with you tonight, maybe he could be.

Yeah! When and where?

He answered quickly.

Pick you up at 10

It was 8:30, so you decided you could start getting ready. You went to your closet, looking at the pieces in there. The first thing your eyes landed on was an elegant white 3-piece lingerie set. It had lace designs all over it and straps for days. It was your favorite piece of lingerie you owned, and Colson’s favorite too.

Your finger ran along it, your head tilting. What would be the harm in wearing it? You’d feel sexy as hell.

So, you did. You hid it underneath an oversized T-shirt and baggy jeans, high heeled combat boots and a chain belt to match. You knew bear’s friends weren’t the fancy party types.

You walked into the house, the smell of weed and alcohol hitting you immediately. You intertwined your fingers with bear’s, his eyes glancing up at you, questioning you. You ignored it, dragging him through the crowd to the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen.

You downed two shots before grabbing a vodka sprite cocktail. Bear followed suit, dragging you to the middle of the crowd to dance. His hands grabbed your waist, you both swaying to the music and laughing at nothing.

Unbeknownst to you, Colson had walked in a few minutes later, hand in hand with a girl who looked a lot like you. He spotted you almost immediately, and then he saw the hands around your waist and the drunken smile on your face. He was so busted if you saw him.

“Want a drink?” He half-yelled over the music to the girl next to him.

She shrugged, “I don’t really drink.” Colson tried to keep his shoulders from visibly slumping. He nodded, grabbing the girl’s hand, and leading her to the opposite side of the dance floor as you.

He was hoping that going out with someone that wasn’t you would help him let go of you, but this girl was not gonna be the one to do that. Luckily, he ran into Rook and Dub, both raising their eyebrows at the girl on his side.

Rook and Dub introduced themselves to the girl, who looked like she would rather be anywhere but here.

You and bear decided to take a break from dancing and headed to the wall, wanting to just talk. As you leaned against the concrete, your eyes caught a familiar face. You tilted your head, taking in the blond man that had woken up in your bed this morning. You chuckled, shaking your head before you saw the girl on his arm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“What’s up?” bear asked, leaning over you with his hand supporting his weight.

“Nothing, just saw someone I wasn’t expecting.”

Bear nodded, turning his head to follow your gaze, still stuck on Colson. “You and Colson?”

You laughed, trying to hide the jealousy running through your veins. “Hell no.” You stood up straight, your faces very close to each other. “I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”

Your noses were almost touching, which seemed to stun bear, as he was holding his breath. You stepped back, waiting for his answer. “Uh- no. I’m good.”

You bit your lip, heading towards the bar and closer to Colson and his arm candy. If he wants to bring other people around, then why not have a little fun.

Colson watched your interaction with bear, saw how close you got to him, how the man instinctively leaned in closer to you. His jaw clenched at the sight, eyes darkening.

“Dude, you good?” Dub asked, bringing his attention back to the conversation in front of him.

Colson nodded, trying to get the picture of you and bear out of his head. “Yeah, I’m good.”

The girl on his arm rolled her eyes and sighed. “This party is fucking stupid, let’s leave and go do something fun.” She whispered the last part in his ear, trying to turn him on. Colson was too distracted by you at the bar, chatting up the bartender, knowing he was watching.

“You can leave.” He mumbled to the girl; his gaze held on you. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, walking away from him. As she left, you turned to catch his eye, a smirk on your face. You were definitely doing this on purpose, the way you placed your tits to lay on top of the bar, a smirk on your face as you spoke to the bartender.

Rook laughed as the girl left, “Colson, are you sure you’re good, man.”

Colson brushed his concern off, “Yeah, I’m gonna go take a smoke.” He headed off towards the back door, pulling a joint and lighter from his pocket.

You looked over your shoulder, expecting to see Colson still staring at you, only to find him and his girl gone. You sighed, picking up your drink and heading back over to bear, who was waiting on the wall for you.

“Sorry, the bartender’s an idiot. He screwed up my drink twice.” You lied through your teeth, your free hand reaching up and resting lazily on bear’s neck. You were definitely a little drunk, but only enough to make everything around you a little euphoric.

“It’s all good.” The man leaned down, face very close to yours. He was definitely trying to kiss you. And honestly if Colson hadn’t been there you would’ve let him. But you had another target for the night.

You smirked, “let’s dance.” You grabbed his arm, pulling away from him and leading to the dance floor. You glanced at the clock, reading the numbers 11:35.

Colson came back 20 minutes later in a much better state of mind. If you were trying to make him jealous, it meant you wanted him to take you home, not the other guys you were with. But boy oh boy was it working.

He leaned against the counter, getting a cup of straight rum. You had strategically placed yourself on the outer edge of the crowd closest to the bar. He could see you swaying your hips to the music, bear’s hands dangerously close to your ass.

You looked up, catching his eye and smirking. You glanced up at the clock on the wall. 12 am. Midnight.

Finding his eyes again, you mouthed “Five minutes. Bathroom.”

Colson smirked, knowing he was right.

A few minutes later you told bear, “I gotta pee, be right back,” before heading towards the hallway, passing Colson. His eyes watched you, feeling like he was watching you in slow motion. He stood up straight and followed you to the hallway.

You had disappeared into the bathroom by the time he rounded the corner, so he had to try every door to find the bathroom.

When he found you, your clothes were off, leaving you in just your white lingerie. He bit his lip, eyes raking your body up and down. You were leaning against the wall opposite of the door, watching him through your eyelashes.

Colson locked the door, taking slow, calculated steps towards you. His left arm landed on the wall above you, his face leaning into yours. The pointer finger on his right hand traced the lace that covered your upper body, landing on the garter that wrapped around your thigh. He smirked, pulling the fabric away from your body and releasing it, the material meeting your skin with a pop.

“You didn’t know I was coming tonight.” His voice was low, his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel his breath hitting your lips and you wanted to swallow his words.

You shook your head as the hand near your thigh moved up to your hip, gripping the skin tightly and pulling your body into his. “Then why,” he breathed, his head dipping down to run his nose up and down your neck, stopping at your ear, “are you wearing that?”

You breathed in through your nose as you felt his dick through his tight pants, spreading a warmth through your body. You could already tell you were soaking. “Maybe I was hoping to find someone who could fuck me as good as you do.” You whispered into his ear as his lips made contact with your neck, biting the supple skin.

He pushed his hips up into you, his hard on pressing even harder against you. “You know you won’t ever find anyone else as good as me.” He growled, pushing away from you, and throwing his shirt off, his jeans coming off shortly after.

His hand came back to your skin, this time grabbing your breasts and massaging through the thin material. His other hand dragged its way down to your clothed pussy, massaging circles against your clit. You bucked your hips into his hand, moaning a quiet “I know.”

He chuckled, his face moving in front of yours as you bit your lips, trying to keep your moans of pleasure quiet. “Don’t be quiet baby, I want everyone to know how good you feel.” His lips met yours in a rough kiss. You brought your arms around his waist, nails dragging lightly across the skin. He smirked into the kiss as his hands moved to unclasp the top two pieces of your lingerie.

Your breasts fell out, and Colson wasted no time in grabbing them in his hands, taking the small buds in between his fingers and squeezing. His lips left yours and attached to your nipples, biting and sucking, leaving an array of hickeys across the skin. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue circling your nipple. “Always love sucking your tits.” He moaned, sending vibrations through your body.

He moved further down, reaching the top of your white panties. He bit his lip as he unclasped the material separating the panties from the garter. He pulled the former down, leaving your pussy exposed. His face was inches from your heat, and you fought the temptation to buck your hips into him. Colson’s eyes were trained on yours as he blew a stream of cold air at your clit. You rolled your head back, resting against the wall as you sighed in pleasure.

His lips connected to your clit, sucking the sensitive bud, sending flashes of pleasure through your body. Your hands tangled in his hair, pushing him further into you. You could feel him smile against your cunt, his arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders one at a time.

With the easier access to your heat, Colson licked up your slit with a moan. “Fuck you taste so good.” He muttered, before darting his tongue into your pussy. He curled his tongue inside you, your body reacting to the feeling.

His hands moved up to your ass, squeezing and massaging your cheeks as he continued his attack on your cunt. You moaned, you hips rocking against his face as he ate you out. Your hands tightened in his hair, “Colson, I’m so fucking close.”

The man smirked against you, his tongue in your hole and his nose pressing against your clit. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, your hips bucking into his face as his pace sped up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You were so close.

“Want you to come on my face baby.” His voice sent you over the edge and you obeyed, your orgasm ripping through your body.

Your juices ran down Colson’s chin as he licked you up, a smirk playing on his lips. You moved your thighs off his shoulders, letting him stand up. Your hand reached up, wiping the cum off his chin with your thumb and then sucking it off, staring straight into his eyes as you did.

“Think you can take another one, angel?” His voice was soft but you could see the outline of his hard cock in his boxers. You nodded, biting your lip cheekily. Colson lifted you up and onto the bathroom counter then pulled the last bit of clothing off himself.

You took his length in your hands, pumping a few times. His head rolled back in pleasure at your movements as you relished the feeling of having him in the palm of your hand, figuratively and literally. His head came back up, connecting your lips as you continued to pump him.

He brought your lip in between his teeth as you lined his cock up to your entrance, teasing him with your slit. He smirked, knowing you thought you were in control, a thought that disappeared when he thrust into you, his length filling you up.

You both let out a string of moans, your legs wrapping around his waist. He pulled out of you almost completely before slamming back into you, causing another moan to fall from your mouth. Colson continued to slowly thrust into you, until you muttered, “Just fuck me already, Colson.”

His lips were at your neck again, leaving marks anywhere he could find room. He obeyed your command, picking up his pace but still slamming into you forcefully. His hand reached to your tit, grabbing the skin, and massaging it.

“Harder.” You whined and he smirked.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, baby.” He growled against your skin. “You know how to beg.”

“Oh fuck, Colson, please. Fuck me harder.” You whined, his pace not changing.

“Even better.” He was gonna make you work for this.

“Please, sir, fuck me hard like the slut I am.” You begged, your eyes closing in pleasure as his pace sped up, his cock hitting the spot that had your toes curling.

He could feel you clench around him, “You like that, you fucking whore?” He kept thrusting into you, hitting that same spot. “You like it when I fill you up with my fat cock”

His hand came up to wrap around your throat, pressing just lightly enough to stimulate you further. You nodded, eyes rolling back in pleasure as you felt yourself getting closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“I can feel you getting closer, you want to cum around my cock?” You hummed out, nodding your head. He removed his hand from your neck. “Use your words.”

His thrusts were getting faster and sloppier, and you knew he was close. “Yes sir, wanna come around your big, fat cock.” You whined as his dick twitched inside you. His hand moved to massage circles into your clit, driving you right to the edge.

“Then cum, slut.” His thrusts sent you into bliss, warmth spreading through your entire body as your pussy clenched around him, his hot seed spilling into you. He dragged your orgasms out as long as he could, thrusting sloppily into you.

When he stopped, you were both breathing heavily, your head resting against the mirror behind you and his on your bare chest. When he finally got his bearings, he reached for the box of tissues on the counter, cleaning up himself and then you.

As you hopped off the counter, pulling your top back on, you looked at him, head tilted. “So, what happened to your plans out of town?”

The man in front of you paused as he pulled his pants up. “I didn’t know how to tell you that I was going on a date.” He answered truthfully.

You looked down, his answer disappointing you. “Oh. How did it go?”

He chuckled, giving you an “are you serious?” look. “She left and I ended up fucking you in the bathroom of some dude’s house.”

You nodded your head. “I thought you were gonna stay home tonight?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“I was.” You paused, pulling your shirt over you. “bear invited me out after you left so, here I am.” You shrugged.

He struggled with his pants, “Was it a date?”

You shook your head, pulling your own jeans up your legs. “Maybe he thought it was, I dunno. Just wanted to have some fun.”

“And you wore that because…” Colson trailed off, expecting an answer.

“In case I had fun.” You bit you lip, a smug look on your face. “You’re not mad that I went out tonight, are you?” You secretly hoped he would say yes.

“No, you can do whatever you want. You don’t need my permission to fuck other people.” Colson’s shirt covered his tattoos as he shrugged it on. “You don’t care that I went on a date tonight, do you?”

Yeah, I really do. “No, I don’t care.” You shrugged, moving to the mirror to fix your hair and makeup. “Just tell me when it gets serious so I can find someone else…” You trailed off, knowing that sentence wouldn’t end the way you wanted to say it.

Colson nodded, making eye contact with you in the mirror. You giggled, grabbing a tissue, and facing him. “You have lipstick on your nose.” You wiped it off as well as the smudges near his lips. Your hand stayed close to his lips, holding his face. Every bone in your body told you to kiss him for real, but you knew he wouldn’t kiss you back.

But he was thinking the same thing. He tried to laugh it off before he actually did kiss you and mess up what you had going on.

“So, we’re all good then, still just friends with benefits?” He asked as he turned back towards the mirror, fixing his hair.

You smirked at him, “Oh, Colson, we’ll never be friends.” You grinned as you walked out of the room, leaving the door to close behind you.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk smut #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly smut #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker angst #colson baker smut

231 notes · View notes

mrwinterr · 5 years ago

Text

Slippery, Smooth

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky gets a different kind of massage.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual but still unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, oral [male receiving], thigh riding, titty fuck, cum play).

Disclaimer: I want to put it out there that while nuru massages aren’t legal in the vast majority of the U.S. or the world, I’m not condoning the underlying motive of selling sex and/or prostitution. I apologize if this may offend anyone or the culture. I did my best to read about the origins and some modern experiences. A girl just watched porn and wrote this – that’s it.

** Author’s Note (8/13/20): Read a snippet of Part 2! **

“We’ll just need you both to fill out the paperwork for some information. Please check any of the services we offer then sign the waiver on the back and when you’re both done, we’ll show you to your rooms,” the young female receptionist answered with a friendly smile on her face.

Sam returns the gesture with a smile of his own and grabs the two white clipboards with the paperwork attached to them, carefully balancing the pens placed on top so they don’t roll off. On his left, was Bucky sporting a resting bitch face, clearly showing he was dragged into this before heading to a pair of unoccupied seats. The woman unbothered by his sour demeanor pays no offense believing he’s come to the right place to relieve the stress he isn’t aware he’s been harboring.

Except Bucky really doesn’t want to be here at the spa. He just happened to be caught while walking by some of his colleagues and apparently, Sam had been asking around for someone to check out the raving massage parlor on the market with him, but mostly because it was much more of a discount to book for two than one.

With some convincing from his more levelheaded companions, suggesting Bucky continue to go out and experience more modern things while also participating in the act of self-care, he begrudgingly agreed.

“Man, hurry up. Did you forget how to spell your name?” Sam nudged at him seeing as Bucky hadn’t even filled out the first line before putting the cap back on his pen, signaling he had completed his paperwork.

“Shut up. I don’t even want to be here.” Bucky mumbled enough just for Sam to hear. It wasn’t the establishment’s fault that he felt bothered.

He let out a big sigh, filled out the basic information and skimmed at the options of the services provided. His face scrunched. There were all kinds of massages that he hadn’t heard of and some were even in different languages. Luckily, this place offered a brief description of each type.

“Barnes!” Sam, who was standing in front of the receptionist desk again, said with a now firmer tone and sending Bucky a hard look. He was getting impatient. Bucky shook his head and looked back down at the paper. Try something new. He reminded himself.

Feeling slight pressure and the practical idea of the sooner he got through with this part of the process the sooner he’d be out of this place, Bucky hastily checks off something near the middle, a different type of massage he thought sounded nice. They all sounded nice, but there were so many, he didn’t bother to finish reading through or retain any significant aspects on each of them as they all became a jumbled mess of terms in his brain. Afterall, a massage is designed to make one feel good anyways. How far south could the option he selected go?

A few more minutes went by until another woman from behind the desk emerges and calls for the two men. The receptionist bids them a good time and carries on with the next guest. To both of their relief, Bucky and Sam are placed in separate rooms.

Guess he picked a different massage. Bucky thought to himself and looked around the dim lit room. Its walls adorned with tasteful foreign artwork, different sized candles and infused with a refreshed yet soothing scent that began overtaking his senses. The place was pristine.

The employee who escorted him to this room sets the clipboard on the nearby table and instructs Bucky to prep himself with a shower that was located in the corner. Before he could ask why that was a significant part of the massage, she told him once he was done washing himself, to lie on the massage table with only his towel on and to wait for his actual masseuse, who would arrive shortly, then she left closing the door behind her.

Not wanting to think too much into it, believing perhaps it was part of the experience or this place was just super hygienic, Bucky doesn’t waste time. The masseuse could walk in any moment, so he proceeds to undress, open the clear shower door and step in.

A few months ago, aside from the people he worked with or the ones he fought against, no one would be caught alone with Bucky – especially in a vulnerable state such as being half naked and with his metal arm on display. It took a lot of self-therapy and confidence and just plain not giving a fuck anymore mindset, but now here he was letting a complete stranger touch him and take more than a peek and gander at his body. If the doctors could see him now. On top of that, there had to be a level of professionalism here anyways, he was in good hands.

Once he’s thoroughly clean, he wraps the white, fluffy towel around his waist before hopping onto the massage bed. It was big, almost like it was built for two. That was a strange thought, but nonetheless he chose to also not dwell on that and was grateful it was big enough for his burly body. He scoots around a bit to find the center and lies down, trying to relax.

He turned his head to the side, eyes wandering at the counter full of supplies – massage oils, rocks, towels, soap, a box of condoms, gloves, more towels…wait. A box of condoms? What the hell? Bucky thought now a little puzzled before turning his head back to stare at the ceiling in front of him. He closes his eyes and tries to calm his nerves once more.

Just before Bucky dozed off, as if on cue, he hears the door open and quietly close with an extra click. You finally arrived. He peeks an eye open to see the back of your figure, hair tied loosely and in a short white robe. It clung on your body different, it had to be of silk. He opens both eyes just as you turn around.

You quickly glance at his clipboard before finally fixing your eyes on your next client. His metal arm certainly didn’t go unnoticed, but that wouldn’t be a problem at all. It might sound mean, but it was one less limb to work on. All that shoved aside, he was athletically built and geez, was he a sight. Keep it together. You began telling yourself over and over. You’re a professional.

It wasn’t likely you did these kinds of massages, nor did you partake in paid sexual services just strictly intent on the art of touch and healing, but this type paid handsomely, and the lights didn’t have to be on all the way to let you see that handsome was indeed right in front of you too. You introduced yourself to the man on the massage bed but got no response.

A quiet one. You thought, but quickly shrugged it off and decided to get right to it by pulling at the end of a tassel in the knot tied around your waist to begin disrobing.

Bucky, not anticipating interacting or to be touched intimately by someone so pretty was gravely distracted, it wasn’t until he saw the skin of your cleavage that he snapped out of it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bucky exclaims sitting up, “what are you doing?”

With a confused expression, you simply replied, “disrobing?” Then wearily proceeded to part the material to the side, but before you could reveal anything else, you heard another plea to stop.

“Wh-why?” Bucky was having a hard time trying to formulate words with the swell of your breasts peeking from behind your robe now in his view.

You turned and cocked your head a bit, still perplexed by his questions, “because it’s part of the massage.”

“Wha…what? Isn’t the person getting the massage supposed to be the one that’s…naked?” His mind was in a frenzy and that was kind of annoying you.

“For a simple massage, yes.”

“What are we doing then?” He asked incredulously.

“A nuru massage.”

“Nuru massage?”

“Yes. A nuru massage is when one massages the other person’s body with their own.” You explained as calmly as you could. He was getting increasingly agitated and your job was to help others relax not add onto the stress.

Bucky shook his head frantically and looked away from you to stop his eyes from wandering too long on your body. He could tell you didn’t have anything else underneath. “This has to be a mistake. You must have the wrong room.”

You scoffed, covering yourself up again and snatching the clipboard on the nearby counter. “Aren’t you…James B. Barnes?” You skim over it before asking and turning the clipboard to prove to him that you were in the right room assigned to him.

He craned his neck forward to inspect the piece of paper he held not too long ago, his messy handwriting complete with his illegible signature staring right back at him.

“Well, yeah…”

“Then I have the right room and you checked off for a nuru massage.” You say crossing your arms as he took the clipboard from your hands to read more about what the massage actually entails.

“This-this can’t be legal though.” He said shaking his head and thinking about how it could even be acceptable for this kind of service without eliciting some sort of sexual stimulation from the other party. Bodies gliding against each other? It just couldn’t possibly go smooth or well…work.

“It’s not…” you replied like it’s a known fact but then were quick to respond seeing his eyes widening in overreaction, “in most areas of the world but it’s absolutely legal here!”

“But it’s basically pros-“ he didn’t even finish that last sentence catching himself when he saw your now offended expression.

Does this asshole really think he is going to just sit there and get away with downright calling you a prostitute?

“You don’t know shit about me,” you spat. Handsome or not, deciding he wasn’t as openminded as most people and harshly tied a new knot to the robe you were still wearing signaling you were about to walk out. He wasn’t worth the few extra digits to your paycheck.

“No! Wait!” He pleaded; guilt ridden. As he let out a deep sigh, you stayed put to hear him out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. You’re right! I don’t know shit about you, but I also don’t know what a nuru massage is. I came here with a friend to help him get a good deal and I clearly wasn’t paying attention to what I signed up for.”

You nodded and decided to be civil since he was owning up to his mistake. “Okay. Apology accepted. I see why you freaked out, but you’re clearly not comfortable with the idea of this,” you responded while your hands helped convey your words, “so I can see what I can do to get you a refund,” and walked over to him to retrieve the clipboard.

It would’ve taken a significant blow to your pay – losing a client for the day – but you weren’t going to put anyone in a situation they weren’t familiar or comfortable with.

“Well…” He spoke up, placing his right hand on top of yours causing you to look up at him.

Wow, his eyes. They held the same color that reminded you of the kind water in a pool could reflect. The soothing kind of blue. You felt like you were glued to the spot, almost hypnotized.

“I mean I’m already here. I don’t want to take any business away from you. Again, I’m sorry I overreacted. What’s life without experience, right?”

And that deep voice... Shit, snap out of it! Remember, you’re a professional.

You gave him a small smile for his change of heart and willingness to try something new.

“Right,” you said forcing yourself to look away. Fuck, I hope I wasn’t staring for too long, “but I’m letting you know now, this isn’t a normal massage,” daring to look back at him for reassurance, “if at any moment you’re uncomfortable, we can change things up. Afterall, I’m very good with my hands.” You hoped to regain your composure with that last line. It wasn’t a lie though.

Bucky sends you a smile of his own before letting you go to lie back down properly, waiting for the next move. You cautiously disrobed without any protest from him. You noticed Bucky visibly swallowed the thick lump in his throat now that you were completely nude in front of him.

“Are you okay?” You were going to have to be patient with this one. He wasn’t going to be like any other you treated. It was easy for you to just stand there naked and you weren’t bothered by nudity at all, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is.

With a nod of his head, you reached for the towel to untuck the bunched-up portion at the side of his waist, mindful to not expose him of the slightest to spare him some modesty, while asking him to move just enough to let it rest on his body and cover his lower half like a blanket would.

You decided to let him keep his towel on for the time being and focus on his upper body. Next, you instructed him to turn and lie on his stomach, you’d start with his back first. You lifted the towel in a modest manner like you would for anyone so he could maneuver with ease. Once he settled in a comfortable position, you began the treatment.

“The word nuru stems from the Japanese term for slippery or smooth.” Talking to your clients was a technique most in your line of profession use to help distract or relax them to get the job done – that and it’s just good customer service showing that you care and know just what the fuck you’re doing.

You expertly jumped up onto the small space left on the bed to get into a straddling position on your knees hovering just over the small of his back and covered ass. Judging by the hump, it kind of looked nice to sit on.

“I’m going to start by applying nuru gel all over your body and mine, but we’ll start small, alright.” You carefully poured a generous amount of the warm massage gel in the palm of your hand lathering up your arms, chest, torso, thighs and fortunately you were flexible enough to reach parts of your back, but for parts you couldn’t, would transfer off his body to yours later on.

Scooping up a bit more, you watched as the gel dropped in a fine line and pool onto his back before beginning to spread it all over the expanse of his toned body in soothing motions. You started to gently press with your knuckles on the surface his muscles.

“The gel is actually made out of natural Nori seaweed,” you started explaining the colorless and odorless substance while progressing lower on his back with both hands, digging your thumbs near the lumbar region and compressing some of your weight down. You paid attention to specific areas of the body that draws the most tension. His body became visibly lax and less strained the more you worked your magic; soon enough Bucky was sure he would be putty in your hands.

Still perched up on your knees and not wanting to slip, you took initiative and just plopped down onto his plush yet firm backside. Even if a towel remained as a barrier between you both, you felt his glutes tense up underneath you, most likely having startled him. Trying to find a way to help him relax again, you tried to comfort him with more facts.

“It has other healthful benefits such as providing great moisturization to the skin,” you leaned down on your forearms and started an up and down repetition.

Your hands then travelled to his sides and you hoped he wasn’t ticklish before they met at the back of his neck to perform the simplest of massages ever. However basic as it might’ve seemed, felt like Heaven’s touch on Bucky’s end as he couldn’t help but let out a moan of satisfaction.

You were so good at it, working out all the kinks in his neck using your skilled fingers, he had to let out an approving moan after moan with each touch that hit the spot. The elicited sound racked through his body that you felt it reverberate all the way down to your core. You were crossing over a forbidden line, but that wasn’t letting you up. You had wanted to hear and feel that again.

“You’re really tense aren’t, you?” You comment continuing your handy work into the knots around his lower neck, slowly adding more pressure and testing his limits. His response was an even louder and deeper moan. Unknowingly, it caused you to shift, more like ground, your hips against his lower body. You mentally patted yourself on the back for keeping the towel there to absorb your juices. He didn’t need to try and figure out if it was the nuru gel or the sudden wetness pooling in you that his skin was swimming in.

Then you lowered your entire body, your chest now pressed against his back. Your head was close to his, you could smell the scent of the soap the facility provided for the massage prep mixed with his own and you swore he smelled more relaxing than any stress-free candle or burning incense ever could.

Due to the close proximity, you spoke even softer right next to his ear, “the combination of the nuru gel and full body contact or the touch of another human help to release toxins from the body and boost the feelgood chemicals in the brain.”

You paired that piece of knowledge with sliding up and down his back, your hands trailing up his arms that were bent but sprawled above his hand, grasping at the front of his hands to briefly interlock them before letting them go to repeat the actions.

Deciding enough time was spent on the upper area, you carefully swung around, gathered a bit more gel and snuck your hands underneath the towel to glide up the hill of his ass. Without protest, you seized the moment and experimentally grabbed a handful of each cheek before releasing the flesh and sail further down to his muscular thighs. Oh, you wish you could see them, but reminded yourself to approach each step with caution with him.

The towel still restricted you from attending to his calves, so you pulled your hands back out and scooted up to pull the towel up from the other end and treat them with the same amount of attention. After that treatment was done, you had him revert to his original position on his back.

As he settled, you reached over to pour some more gel and help slicken his front half.

“Interesting fact, nuru massages originated in Japan as a disguise to pay for sexual services,” you say as your hands spanned across the planes of his pecs, “but nuru massages are much more than an erotic massage.”

“How so?” Bucky asked genuinely curious because he was having a hard time trying to strain his cock from hardening. Thankfully for him, you were seated on his lower abdomen and barely inches away from his member.

“Think of them as more so sensual than sexual.”

Accepting that outlook, Bucky had to ask, “how did you get into…this?”

You knew he meant performing nuru massages and not your career in general, “I took a trip to Japan during a break from studying,” you replied and now tracing the lines of his abs. That sort of action, so close to his dick, created a ghostly tingle to run down Bucky’s lower region.

Counting each one of his abs to help distract you from the twitch of his cock that he thought you probably didn’t feel hit you, you continued your story, “like you, I also didn’t know what I signed up for either.”

With your breasts out in front of him squished between your upper arms as you continued to rub him and all slick from the gel, your skin seemed ever so inviting for him to touch, but he refrained from doing so. There was really no way to avoid getting aroused with this kind of massage. He was about to give up the fight. He needed to relax, right?

“Um, how-how was…he?” He asked trying to not ask awkwardly. You smiled noting he was having a hard time trying to look at your face and not your boobs. A guy like this at your fingertips? What woman’s ego wouldn’t be boosted? You had control.

Keeping in mind he is new to this, but also that the vitality of full body contact in this massage, you treated his front half to the same tactic you used on his back by laying your body flat on his.

“She was amazing,” you answered, your face now close to his you could feel the warmth of his breath puff out as he tried to regulate his breathing. The close proximity allowing you to feel the beat of his heart. You noticed the bob of his throat to that reveal, two women all oiled up.

“She taught me a lot of moves actually.” An innocent anecdote produced a whine from Bucky that he felt ashamed of slip out. Okay, maybe you got to bring it back down. “The first time I ever performed a nuru massage, I almost slipped off the massage table!”

What you hoped for was to lighten the mood, you didn’t expect was for him to bust out laughing at you. The sudden outburst took you by surprise that you almost reenacted the shared memory, but Bucky was quick to catch you with his left arm before you fell. His arms encased around you as he turned on his back with you now lying parallel, legs between his now parted ones underneath the towel that still managed to stay on.

“Oh my God,” you said burying your face into the crook of his neck, not giving a damn that the massage gel would get on your face. That first fall from your past was one of the most embarrassing moments of your career and here you were about to relive it or perhaps create one that would top it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said tucking you in his arms as his flesh hand ran up and down the curves of your slick back, the metal one resting just above the curve of your ass. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that you’re so poised and professional, having to imagine you being that clumsy took me off guard.”

Your eyes drifted down and noticed the scarred tissue of his skin that divided the metal from him. He probably ached there sometimes. You made a mental note to fit his arm somewhere in your routine.

“I’ve never told anyone that story before,” you admitted looking at him. Your eyes lingering at his pink lips that were parted. He brushed a strand of your hair away and cupped your face. You leaned into his hand and if he didn’t know it, you were the one that was putty in his hands.

Earning yourself another beautiful smile from him you got back into position. “Do you mind?” You ask referring to the towel. Having spent some time with you and seeing a more vulnerable side, he shook his head and let you rip the towel from beneath you and drop it to the floor.

“It’s okay to get hard,” you said trying to address the elephant in the room. You watched him stammer with his words, “it’s perfectly natural. Remember, this massage is designed to tease your senses and bring your body to full ecstasy.” Your now pressed against him again, rubbing your body up and down, hands trailing upwards to let your fingers intertwine with his again.

Feeling your breasts glide up just enough to stop under his chin, he kept tilting his head back as if he was neck deep in water, but if he was being honest, he would rather just drown in them at this point. Bucky tries to remain calm even if you assured him that getting aroused during a massage was a common occurrence.

“Relax, James,” you said releasing one of his hands to cradle his head and set it in a regular position. You just made it a point to not practically motorboat the poor guy.

“It’s Bucky,” he said, “please just call me Bucky. James is too formal.”

“Okay, Bucky,” you confirm by pressing your forehead against his.

Not taking your eyes off each other, you glided down a few inches so you’re face-to-face with the junction of the skin and metal and began leaving light feather kisses to the sensitive area. Adding a little squeeze to the flesh hand that was still in your grasp, Bucky felt his heart soar a bit. You, so unperturbed by the once traitorous appendage, were so gentle and the level of intimacy you carried, he wondered if you were like this to your other clients. He felt like a damn fool for falling for your every move.

“Are most of your clients men?” Bucky wondered.

“No. I don’t limit my services to just men. Most times, my favorite are the women. Nuru is open for anyone of any gender or sexual orientation.”

You slithered down again until you trapped one of his thighs between your legs. Lord, give me the strength to not cum. You prayed and begun rocking your hips almost sinfully.

Fuck, was this part of her normal routine? Bucky asked himself but wouldn’t deny the combination of her wet pussy and its soft lips gliding along his thighs felt good. Not to mention the way your hands grip at the grooves of his Adonis belt, nails slightly digging into his skin, watching your hips move. He didn’t miss the look on your face, eyebrows knitted in concentration and your plump bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

“Do you enjoy this too?”

You knew what he was going for. Did you get a rise out of this? You regained control of your body and shrugged, “I mean, touch is therapeutic in some cases, but if you’re wondering, most places or depending on the masseuse have modified nuru massages.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Not everyone gets a happy ending.” You were a masseuse specialist and not in a line of sex. It was the most misconstrued thing about it. Noticing the look on his face, you concluded that he must’ve not known the term “happy ending.”

“Sex. A happy ending is what usually culminates from a nuru massage,” you cleared the air. It was adorable to see the surprised look on his face. Yet, underneath the sheen line of sweat that had built up on his forehead, Bucky was internally relieved to hear that you didn’t actually partake in any sexual penetration or acts from this type of massage.

Okay, maybe that number on his thigh wasn’t part of your routine. You’d never been that needy. Before you could fly off the edge, you didn’t even peg yourself to be a sadist and actually edge yourself. You wondered if you could fully set ethical standards aside and go through it.

You set that same leg between your breasts and strategically slid from up his thigh before stopping just below the waist to keep his rather endowed member confined.

“You know, it’s a shame the reputation that nuru massages have,” you started, pushing your boobs together with your hands. You felt his cock jolt at the contact, “the first thing that comes to people’s minds in terms of nuru is fucking porn, but nuru has its benefits.”

“Like what?” Bucky asks breathily as you started practically titty fucking him. Is she serious? Are we in a porno? He thought seeing as there’s no way he was going to not cum any second.

“Yeah. Believe it or not, it’s proven to help couples spice up their love lives and even repair them.”

“H-how?” He tried to keep up with conversation, but it was so hard, he was so hard, as he watched his cock disappear and reappear from between the depths of your breasts. He hoped you hadn’t noticed that his pre-cum had been aiding in the slickness as it mixed in with the nuru gel. You were warm and soft and slick…and he wasn’t even buried deep in your pussy.

“I think you can guess one of the factors, but it’s more than just a physical connection, really,” you explain and release him. You move back up, body once more parallel to his, your hands smearing more of the gel around his chest, “it allows for one to feel more comfortable in their own skin and even create new sensations.”

“Almost sounds like a spiritual journey,” he said with seriousness his eyes meeting yours.

“It can be,” you responded with. You were so close to his face again. Not sure how long you sat there staring at him, but as ironic as it was, the setting in a massage parlor, one with a purpose to help the other, you both seemed to create a new kind of tension. A tension that was almost too thick you feared it wasn’t something your hands could resolve.

You stared down at his enchanting features, soft, pink lips that were parted, cute nose, the half-lidded eyes but that still shone from the blue that managed to peek out. Your hands trailed up to touch his face. He was so tempting.

Fuck it. All caution thrown out the window, your lips crashed against his. It wasn’t bruising nor soft, but enough to cut the tension that had built up in the room. To your astonishment, he didn’t object to your advances and pressed his lips back to yours and opening up wider to let you slip your tongue in. He caught your tongue in his mouth with his lips and enclosed around the muscle, sucking on it, causing you to gasp and pull away breathlessly.

You push yourself up just enough to get a full look at him with your hands on his chest. A slight nod of his head was all you needed to dive back in. Your lips massaged against his as you both kissed with such fervor, your hands threading into the short locks of his hair slightly pulling at what you could grasp in your fingers. The echoes of his moans and the light tap of his cock that had twitched in response against your lower abdomen was a dead giveaway sign that he liked that.

However, the continue rocking of your body against his, wasn’t going to help alleviate his raging hard on. It was pressed so hard in between you, it almost felt embedded into your skin. You slithered back down, leaving a trail of kisses from the column of his neck, chest – even managing to teeth at one of his nipples tauntingly – the line between his abs until you were met with the tip of his cock, which was unashamedly leaking.

You jeered around his head, placing lightweight kisses down the side of his cock, purposely avoiding the large vein on the underside, to his balls. Your eyes never leaving Bucky’s, who had his head propped under his flesh arm to watch you. Your hands still slick with the gel, you started to fondle him before taking them, one at a time, in your warm, wet mouth to gently suck on.

You weren’t sure who lost the staring contest this time between you two, but his head lulled back at the sensation and yours closed shut, full of him and savoring the taste of his skin. Pulling away with a pop, you wrapped a hand around his shaft to let his cock stand at full attention.

Bucky finally opened his eyes and picked his head back up to look at you just in time to watch you smear his pre-cum all over your lips and swallow him. You downed as much of his cock as you could before hollowing your cheeks and coming back up with your tongue dragging across the underside of him, bobbing up and down.

Without a warning, you pull away for a brief moment, a string of mixed fluids leave a web trail from him to you, “It’s okay to touch me, Bucky,” you say stroking his cock but also noticing his hands had been gripping onto the edge of the bed and hoping to encourage him to fully give in to his desires.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice as his hands found purchase in your hair pushing you back down his cock. He let out a loud groan when he felt the tip of your nose bury in the soft hairs of his happy trail. You weren’t expecting that kind of aggression from him, it caused you to involuntarily gag around him. Your throat constricting around his cock only caused him more indisputable pleasure he jut his hips up, lodging himself even further.

When you pulled away again, this time with your own saliva and his cum dribbling down your chin, your eyes were slightly red and tearstained. Your ragged breathing, lips glistening and swollen, hair matted against your face. You looked so fucked, so raw.

He pulled you up to him once more, your legs instinctively setting on either side of him, your dripping cunt hovering just over his cock that lied resting on his stomach. He wiped at your chin before kissing you, his tongue darting all around the wet cavern of your mouth and tasting himself. Something about that was so filthy yet so erotic.

Your legs spread further apart, and you pressed yourself against his cock. The contact causing you both to draw out loud moans. You did your best to drag your sopping folds along his stiff member, but the bed had become so slippery, you were finding it hard to pull yourself back up on your knees. Bucky must’ve picked up on the small struggle as he grabbed handfuls of your ass to help aid you in sliding your pussy up and down his cock.

You could feel just how hard he was and the underside and ridges of the head of his cock scraping against your clit, pulled all sorts of tremors from your body. You were a whimpering mess, clinging onto Bucky’s body trying to find your footing, but your senses were on overdrive.

“I know, it’s your job to make me feel good,” he said continuing to rut up against you, “but go ahead…just let go.” Oh, how he would love to watch you unravel and you weren’t one to deny him. You wildly came undone, from the buildup of riding his thigh and now this, you gushed all over his cock.

Wrecked, you knew this was far from over. Once you reclaimed control of your senses, Bucky at your full attention, you snaked a hand between your bodies and lifted yourself up to position his eager cock at your entrance.

“Tell me, Bucky,” you said trying your best to dominate the situation and started teasing yourself, “…do you want a happy ending,” you asked seductively, licking his lips and your eyes never leaving his.

His heartbeat accelerated with each running pass of the tip of his cock made through your folds. If his ending was right here on this massage bed, he’d take it because you were a fucking tease. The string of curses that flowed out his mouth caused a smirk to form on your lips.

You felt his metal hand grab yours shoving it away, enough of your teasing, he repositioned himself at your hole, gripped your hips and slid right in you with ease. You internally applauded the designers of the building for making each room soundproof because let’s face it, no one wants to hear how good the person next door is feeling – especially not like this, not the sounds you and Bucky were producing.

Each slide up and down his thick length, Bucky found himself almost fully engulfed by your breasts again. He stopped you for a moment so he could finally get his mouth on them, but you weren’t about to catch a break. No. Bucky instead planted his feet on the bed and began thrusting up into you almost too vigorously, but you sucked it up. Letting him use you to work out his frustrations.

Then you sat up, hands sprawled on his chest and started grounding your hips. The way his cock swiveled with each rotation you made, had you reeling as the tip just barely kept hitting that spot.

Bucky straightened out his legs from behind you and managed to sit up, cradling the small of your back and gently laying you down.

“Slow down, baby,” he says trying to contain the relentlessness drive you had on fucking him by keeping your hips at bay, so he pulled out resulting in a displeased noise to come out of you.

He just needed to get into a new position, on his knees, your right leg hoisted up on his shoulder while he pushed down on the other to spread your legs further apart, just for him to easily plunge back into your wet heat and drawing out long and satisfied moans from you both.

“Fuck, it feels so good. You’re so good, Bucky,” you whined.

“I’m supposed to be saying that to you,” he chuckled almost breathlessly, coming down and placing his lips on yours with a kiss that had your head swimming. He pulled back to take a look down, loving the sight of him snug inside your warm walls. With his flesh hand, he pressed his fingers onto your clit, rubbing harsh circles, you grabbed and clawed at his forearm at the immense pleasure, eyes widening because it was proving to be too much.

The twisting coil that was settling in you suddenly snapped. With a loud rough moan, you were uncontrollably quaking beneath him, you knew Bucky couldn’t be far away from you. His bruising grip on your thighs and the faltering thrusts of his hips from your walls squeezing at him repetitively, he finally let go, emptying himself until he was sure he was completely spent. Fuck, and you loved feeling his cum shoot deep in you.

Watching his abdominal muscles contract with every breath, he pulled out and tried to regain his breathing, but before he could collapse, he used his last remaining ounce of strength to pull you up and back down with him on the other end of the massage bed.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks you this time short of breath. You managed to let out a tiresome laugh and pathetically slapped his chest, but knew it was to no avail with what little energy you had left.

Several moments later, you both had calmed down and were prolonging the inevitable end. Bucky watched as you absentmindedly traced the outline of his metal arm. He longed for someone that was raw in nature, confident and there you were – walking into his life by mistake. He wasn’t sure where you stood aside from a physical standpoint, but he strangely craved for more.

You managed to stand back up on your own feet and drag Bucky back into the shower to clean off. You helped each other wash off the gel and mixed juices, with a few kisses shared here and there riddled along with soft sweet praises.

After helping you wipe down the bed and tidy up the room, Bucky couldn’t help but realize he felt good. Gone was the grumpy man that came against his own will. He definitely felt refreshed and his body felt great. This place really was all that it cracked up to be and he was just lucky enough to be assigned to you.

“What?” You asked catching him starting just as you slipped your robe back on.

“I want to see you again,” he says getting up from the bed.

You smiled at that. No one has ever made you feel that good. Your bodies seemed to be in sync with one another. Plus, during that last shower, you deduced that he could be a big softie when he wanted to be.

You wanted to see him again too and you would let him.

Once Bucky stepped back into the lobby, his peace of mind was shattered when he heard Sam yell. “Finally!” He watched as his friend threw the magazine he wasn’t really reading aside and stand up with a loose smile on his face. “How do you feel, man?”

“Amazing.” Bucky’s tone was audibly smoother and calm as opposed to earlier.

“Good! You were in there for a long time. I don’t know what massage you chose, but whatever they did on you...I’m glad it knocked out that attitude of yours,” he says as if he didn’t have one before his massage.

“Whatever. You’re exaggerating.”

“I even left to get something to eat and you were still in there!”

Shit. Were you both really that long? Was that normal? To Bucky it didn’t seem so. In fact, he wanted more time with you.

They both approach the same receptionist from earlier, who now donned a subtle smug disposition seeing the change in complexion on Bucky.

“Would you like to leave a tip?” She asked Bucky politely and just before he could say yes, he was interrupted.

“Oh, he’s good! He’s all taken care of,” you quickly interjected, popping out of nowhere and effectively grabbing Bucky’s attention one more time with a sweet smile. You wanted to be the last thing he saw when he walked out that door. Bucky didn’t even hear Sam ask how in the world he got you as his masseuse.

Your co-worker nodded understandingly before turning to Sam to ask if he’d like to book another visit.

“Yeah…when is she next available?” Sam asks the receptionist while looking at you. You hadn’t managed to only grab Bucky’s attention, but also his friend.

How Bucky hadn’t noticed it before everything was beyond him. You had a certain glow that was very alluring. He wondered if it was possible for anyone to look away from you or not smile in your presence.

Something Bucky failed to conceal was the rising discomfort he was feeling hearing the suggestive tone in Sam’s voice when speaking about you mixed with a small bubble of anxiety on if there was a possibility that he’d get to be alone in a room with you.

Before Sam could get a definite answer, you looked to your co-worker at the front desk, grinned at each other and then back over at the two men.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m booked,” sending a wink towards Bucky and disappearing to the back.

A/N: I work in digital marketing and what with all the searching I did I’m now paranoid that I’ll be targeted for a massage…even though I could use one. I did my best to proofread. Let me know if you liked it!

#mrwinterr writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #slippery smooth

2K notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanon - when he sees a ring on your finger

This work, 当你手上多了一枚戒指, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

It’s a common occurrence for you and Kiki to drift into jewellery shops when the visiting the mall together. Most of the time, it’s mostly to buy items like necklaces or ear studs - things that don’t hold much significance.

This time, however, your attention is captured by a ring.

It’s a silver ring, the brilliant 99.9% pure silver has a blooming rose at the top. It isn’t big, but it’s exquisite. At the heart of the rose rests a tiny gem.

You slip the ring onto the middle finger of your left hand, fitting you like its as custom made. Kiki comments at the side, “Since it fits so well, just buy it, Boss. It can also announce how you’re being courted by him.”

What Kiki says makes sense. This ring happens to suit your tastes as well, so you take out your wallet and purchase it.

In the evening, Victor picks you up for dinner as usual, and takes your left hand into his out of habit. When he feels something different, he worries that you’re injured, so he flips your hand over to check. The silver ring enters his view.

“This is?”

Only now do you remember that there’s a ring on your finger. You show it off. “Does it look good?”

He doesn’t answer your question, but scrunches his brows as he looks at the silvery light on your finger. “Who gave it to you?”

“I bought it for myself, of course. I saw it while shopping this afternoon. Wearing it also tells others that I’m in a relationship, so it saves me some trouble.”

After hearing your explanation, his expression returns to its usual calm. “...it looks nice.”

Victor’s lips turn up slightly. “Keep it on. I’ll replace it with another ring next time.”

[ GAVIN ]

Everybody thinks you should get together with Gavin - even you.

Minor has revealed more than once that Gavin’s interested in you, but you just haven’t seen him making any moves. Heeding Anna’s advice, you wear a ring on your forefinger as a hint that you’re ready to get into a relationship.

You initially thought everything would go according to plan: When Gavin brings you out to eat, you’d deliberately show him the ring and place it on the table in plain sight.

As you wished, Gavin quickly notices the ring. His pupils constrict, and he clenches his right hand into a fist underneath the table. His lips are pulled into a thin line, as though he’s holding back something.

Sensing that the development is going awry, it suddenly occurs to you that this honest, simple man could have thought all rings convey the same meaning.

Ah, this is a problem.

“Your ring...” Gavin asks quietly, a troubled expression on his face.

It’s happening, it’s happening - this wolf cub is finally on the attack!

You twist the ring on your finger. “I bought it. I’m ready for a relationship, so I’m wearing this to attract attention.”

After hearing this, Gavin visibly relaxes. But once he hears that you’re going to attract attention, he tenses up again, cutting you off.

“There’s no need to do that. What I'm saying is - could you consider me first?”

[ LUCIEN ]

It’s been said that wearing a ring can prevent unwanted attention. Without hesitation, you pick a ring you fancy, wearing it on the fourth finger of your left hand.

Returning home, you see that Lucien is cooking in the kitchen. You plan to sneak up behind him with a back hug, but the moment you touch him, he greets you.

“Welcome home.”

You hug him fiercely. “Tch, I even thought I could frighten you.”

Lucien sets down the ladle and turns around, planting a kiss on your cheek. “I’m familiar with my little butterfly’s footsteps. Wanting to frighten me is a difficult feat.”

A glint of silver flashes into Lucien’s eyes as you reach out to cup the sides of his face. “All right, I’ll try a different method next time.”

He takes your hand, kissing the ring gently. In a tender voice, he says, “Wash your hands. We can have dinner soon.”

You comply obediently, washing your hands and preparing bowls and cutlery. Once you’re done, you wait at the dinner table for Lucien to bring the final dish over.

After dinner, the two of you go for a stroll to aid with digestion. Suddenly, he pauses in his steps, and you turn to him questioningly.

He gets down on one knee, a felt box in his hand. In it sits a diamond ring.

“Lucien...” you breathe.

“I originally wanted to propose to you in a proper manner. But I think my little butterfly can no longer wait, and has worn an engagement ring on her own.”

Dumbstruck, you peer at the ring on your finger. “Doesn’t this just mean I’m in a relationship?”

Lucien laughs. “So my silly girl wore it on the wrong finger. But that’s fine. This time, I’m helping you put it on, so you won’t wear it wrongly again.”

[ KIRO ]

Ever since Kiro saw the ring on your finger, he’s been casting you meaningful and expectant glances.

“Miss Chips, your ring looks really good!” He exclaims exaggeratedly.

Giving him a polite smile, you respond, “Thanks, I think so too.”

Kiro tilts his head. Has there been a decline in his tacit understanding with you? Why can’t you understanding what he’s hinting at?

He launches his second round of attack. “Miss Chips, where did you buy the ring from?”

“I got it from a shop of course. I even specially picked this. I like it a lot~” You emphasise on the word “specially”, gauging his expression.

“Miss Chips, do you really understand the meaning of his ring?”

Does she really not care about me? Kiro wonders.

“I do.” You lift your hand up. “The staff told me what it meant when he introduced the ring to me.”

Kiro looks deflated. “Since you know that this is the couple edition from Bvlgari, do you not have one for me? Miss Chips, do you not love me anymore QAQ”

The small sun is wilting, so you give up and pat his shoulder. “All right, all right. You’re the one who hasn’t seen it. I even placed it in such an obvious place.”

Kiro glances at you, eyes lighting up. “Where is it?”

“The dark corner of the third drawer in your computer room.”

“...Miss Chips, are you sure that’s an obvious place? Why do I feel like you’re toying with me...”

[ SHAW ]

From what you remember, Shaw has worn all sorts of beads, bracelets, gloves etc...

The one thing he hasn’t worn is a ring.

For this reason, you decide that he doesn’t like wearing rings. It doesn’t surprise you, since even married men don’t wear their rings nowadays.

A brand you frequent just released a set of couple rings which suit your tastes. Since the rings can be sold separately, you buy the female band for yourself.

“Your ring...” Shaw quickly notices the new ring on your finger.

“It looks good, right? I bought it right after it was released. I love this design so much!” You flaunt the ring in front of him.

“This is a couple set, isn’t it?” Shaw grips your hand to take a closer look at it.

Your eyes widen. “You know about it!?”

He turns away. “I saw the magazine you left lying on the table.” He raises his volume for emphasis. “It was just a coincidence!”

You release your hand from his grasp, then cast him a glance. “Tch, what are you doing?”

He stretches out his palm. “Since it’s a couple edition, where’s mine?”

Your eyebrows twitch upwards. “You wear rings?”

“Who says I don’t?”

He grabs your bag from the sofa, pushing you out of the door. “Bring me to the shop immediately. Right now!”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #cheri shortcake

436 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Kurtbastian fic “Always and Forever” Chapter 3

Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3.

Chapter 3 (4753 words)

Kurt stares out his studio window at the neighborhood below. It’s 10:15 a.m. and a Tuesday, so it isn’t as if the place is teeming with activity. Everyone living on Colony Lane seems content to stick to their own spaces, abide by their own schedules, and go about their lives without much interference from the world outside.

Kurt hates to hand it to Sebastian, but that’s what he wants as well. Isolation in a quaint fixer-upper is precisely what he needs.

Another point for Sebastian.

Damn.

He seems to be racking them up lately, while Kurt…

Kurt can admit that he’s not trying as hard as he should be, but he’s giving himself permission to be selfish. There shouldn’t be a timetable for bouncing back from loss, and Kurt got the double-whammy.

Sebastian gave him betrayal to get over, too.

Kurt knows that he should deem repairing his marriage a priority, but he also needs to do what’s right for him.

He hasn’t figured out what that is yet, but it'll come to him.

Underlying childhood guilt has him believing that he should introduce himself to the neighbors. Etiquette and all that. It’s what his mother would do. Every time his family moved, and there had been a handful of times, Kurt’s mother would bake a batch of cookies for the neighbors. She'd put a baker's dozen into colorful cellophane bags, tie the tops with curled ribbon, and take them door to door to say hello. She wouldn’t wait for people to show up on their doorstep with a casserole and a smile. She believed in being proactive. She would tell him, “New neighborhood, new life. Go out and be a part of it.”

But Kurt doesn’t want to, and the neighbors seem fine with that.

It’s been three days, and Kurt and Sebastian have only gotten one visitor – the technician who came to fix the heating. Of course, the neighbors could be waiting for them to get settled. Then they’ll pounce over with perfectly iced Gingerbread Bundt cakes and Chicken Kievs, church invites, and Girl Scout cookie order forms, like a swarm of Stepford Wives.

Kurt doesn’t care about being proactive, and his mother isn’t around to scold him for behaving like a hermit.

That may sound harsh, but it's true.

The clouds pulling together in the sky overhead, threatening rain, give Kurt an excuse to shut himself away and work on the house - an excuse he can ply without the assistance of a tragic backstory. With his laptop open on the floor in front of him, he browses those websites that feed his design fetishes: Ethan Allen, Neiman Marcus, Anthropologie.

But he's not the least bit inspired.

He’d decided to start small, take things room by room instead of attacking everything at once. But he gets stumped, staring at the screen in front of him, unsure whether the chair he’s been mulling over for the past half hour is gorgeous or gaudy.

He should focus on bringing the living room together since it’s where they do the bulk of their entertaining, provided they ever start entertaining again. And he should do something about the master bedroom, which, for the moment, houses a bed, a TV, and a dresser within the confines of four ashy walls.

Opinions on the topic vary, but Kurt has always felt that the bedrooms are the heart of the home. They’re sanctuaries where dreaming, planning, and affirmation happen. He only has the one to worry about, so he should put extra effort into making it comforting, relaxing, sensual on the off chance he ever plans on touching his husband again.

The jury is still out on that one, unfortunately.

The kitchen, he’s not looking forward to decorating. Aside from his studio, he and Grace spent much of their time together in the kitchen. They baked daily: cakes, cookies, bread, and anything else they could slop onto a baking sheet and shove into the oven. They also made jam, pickled fruit, and taught themselves (using YouTube videos mainly) to prepare various types of cuisine. Some were a hit, others a miss, but it was always an adventure.

Kurt had done something similar with his mother and her collection of vintage cookbooks, congregating around the kitchen island in the afternoons to shed the angst of public school, and spread the wings of his stifled creativity. He and his mother discussed everything in the kitchen while sifting flour and creaming butter. It was a tradition he had so looked forward to continuing.

Now, he’d rather not be bothered going into the kitchen again.

He could pick a page out of the IKEA catalog and recreate it. That should offend him. It did when Sebastian suggested it the first time Kurt redecorated their penthouse. But Kurt hardly cares. It doesn’t matter as much as it did. He can’t remember the last time he stepped into the kitchen and prepared anything more elaborate than toast and coffee, maybe dry scrambled eggs. Sebastian took over cooking duties after Grace died, which, nine times out of ten, means ordering out, if for no other reason than he gets to leave the house to pick up the food.

He knows Kurt appreciates the time alone more than he does a home-cooked meal.

Then there’s Sebastian’s office, which Kurt is decorating for the first time. He has tried to start a shopping cart for it numerous times, but, unlike the windfall of ideas he had for his studio, he can’t get into a groove. He remembers a time when thinking about decorating Sebastian’s office put a hundred ideas into his head.

Currently, he has only one.

The cheap, vomit-worthy, knock-off furnishings of the no-tell hotel room he pictures whenever he thinks of Sebastian sleeping with another man.

Kurt shivers in disgust. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

The room or the infidelity.

But how would Sebastian react if Kurt decorated his office to look like the business suite at the Marriott?

Kurt snickers, envisioning the sitcom-worthy shock that would erupt on Sebastian's face if he presented that to him.

"As you can see," Kurt would say, strolling through the room with his head held high atop the straightest spine pettiness can deliver, "I have chosen the most flame-retardant carpet available in subtle hues of tan and beige, a color combination well suited for concealing cum stains. This ergonomic, curved leather loveseat, for when you want to get adventurous with your afternoon romps, which, at your age, requires plenty of lumbar support. Plus, it cleans up in a snap with just a Clorox wipe, so that's a useful feature. Faux fireplace, faux aquarium, faux chandelier... are we sensing a theme? And in the corner, I've provided you a foldout of your own, for when you bring... ahem... work home."

The grin on Kurt's lips slides when Sebastian, wearing a gutted expression, pops to mind. It's an expression that Kurt didn't believe possible for Sebastian till their daughter died. He's only seen it once. He doesn't want to bring it back.

He sighs.

Revenge-dreaming isn't helping.

It isn't as satisfying as he thought it would be.

He’s not breaking through his creative block anytime soon. He puts his plans for the other rooms on the back burner and decides to spend time picking out furniture for his studio. With the exception of his sewing machines, he didn’t bring anything from his penthouse studio here, so he’s starting over fresh. He switches tabs and starts filling his online shopping cart with the basics: a new drafting table, a cabinet, a chair he’ll have to custom-upholster, a bolt of drapery fabric he can repurpose to make a bedspread (if he goes through with his plans for a foldout), and a few other miscellaneous odds and ends, nothing worth wasting too much brain-power over.

The clunk-clunk of Sebastian stacking cans in the kitchen cabinets reaches Kurt upstairs, as does the water running in the sink while he washes dishes and the squeak of the sticky pantry door when he fixes it. Kurt plans on redoing the kitchen and giving the entire room a facelift. Sebastian knows that. But repairing the door gives Sebastian something to do.

Sebastian has been considerate enough to let Kurt do his thing undisturbed for the morning. Kurt’s reluctance to talk to anyone extends to Sebastian, which Sebastian understands. He’s keeping his distance. But it’s nice to hear him puttering around the house. It gives Kurt comfort, the same way listening to his father snore in the middle of the night helped Kurt feel less alone after his mother died.

He may want to be left alone, but it’s nice to know that he’s not alone.

Especially not today.

Today did not start out good for Kurt.

Kurt woke up later than he’d intended, and when he did, he couldn’t remember where he was. Sebastian had woken up and gotten out of bed hours earlier, leaving Kurt alone to sleep in. Kurt climbed out of bed and wandered around frightened, hands crawling along the walls, searching for something familiar. Footsteps passed somewhere underneath him, and he froze. He didn’t want to venture downstairs because he didn’t know who could be there. Maybe someone had broken in, or worse - this was somebody else’s house, and Kurt was the intruder.

His heart raced. He started hyperventilating. He went from room to room, trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. It wasn’t until the second time he went into his studio that he began to remember. He saw his bag on the floor and, beside it, his sketchbook. He remembered sitting in there the day before, making plans. He remembered the wood grain of the floor, the dusty glass, the tree outside, the wallpaper, and that ripped corner by the window, which Kurt refuses to acknowledge any more than he has to.

He feels it behind him, like the sun on his back, trying to get him to turn his face to it, but he refuses. Of all the things he needs to deal with, that ripped corner and the word beneath it don’t make the list. It isn't doing the palpitations in his chest any favors.

It confuses him.

It angers him.

It saddens him.

It makes him consider what could have been, forces him to face everything he's lost. He didn't succeed in running away from his problems. He ran headlong into brand new ones.

But this is his house. He has to get used to it.

These episodes aren’t uncommon. They crop up whenever Kurt needs to adapt to change. They’re unexpected, like mines in fields he discovers he’s been running through when a second ago he was picking flowers in the park or strolling down the street.

It's their unpredictability that is the true torture.

They show up even on his good days.

His life for the last ten years revolved around his daughter. When she was a baby, he adjusted his work schedule to match her sleep schedule. They had the money to afford the best nurses in New York, but Kurt didn’t want that. He didn’t want his daughter raised by a governess. He was as hands-on a parent as there ever was.

As Grace grew, her schedule changed, and Kurt adjusted: daycare, Gymboree, kindergarten, ballet, elementary school. He dropped her off in the mornings, then picked her up in the afternoons. They spent the rest of the day going over her homework until it was time to make dinner, which they did together.

That was the great thing about being a designer and freelance editor. Kurt could work from anywhere, and, aside from doing consultations at Vogue, he could work any time.

When Grace became sick, her doctor visits and her medication regimen dictated Kurt's schedule, then her chemo.

Towards the end, there was only one item written in Kurt’s schedule - lie beside his daughter in her bed, holding on to her for dear life.

And not just her life.

His, too.

In sickness and in health, Grace kept Kurt’s life regulated.

Things flipped drastically when she died.

He felt adrift. Detached from the life he had gotten used to, he didn’t know what to latch on to. His internal clock would wake him up at six to get Grace ready for the day, only to find himself walking into a vacant bedroom. At the supermarket, he would grab her favorite cereal out of habit and put it in his cart, even though it wasn’t on the list. He would jolt when he'd come across a song he thought she’d like or saw an advertisement for a movie he thought she’d enjoy.

He has yet to stop the automatic deposits from his bank account to hers, her weekly allowance piling up on top of birthday and Christmas money. She had earmarked it for college (her decision, not his). Now it waits to be donated to the children’s hospital that took such incredible care of her. He doesn’t have the heart to empty it. She was so proud of it.

He doesn’t know what it will do to him to see the balance at zero.

But the worst moment of all, the absolute worst, was when he tried to go back to work right after they lost her.

There are many moments after Grace’s death, during Kurt’s own struggle for acceptance, that blur together, but this one he remembers so vividly, it brings a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes.

He was in the middle of a brainstorming session with his team. His boss Isabelle was there. She had dropped by with a box of cronuts and a grande nonfat mocha. Kurt hadn’t been eating. Everyone could tell. But Kurt overlooked the signs – the sharper than normal angle to his cheekbones and chin, his collarbone that showed through his skin a little too much, his hands that never stopped shaking. He had waved the food away when she offered.

An hour later, he was on his third one.

The tension of his presence in the office so soon after his daughter’s death slowly dissipated, making way for the familiar, though attenuated, back and forth banter he had so missed. Without knowing it, he was paving the way for a potential comeback. He wouldn’t have a line up for a while, and he would need to keep an eye on fashion trends as they came and went in his absence. But this, this felt so natural, so normal, it almost seemed like it was. He got caught up in the rhythm of this impromptu jam session. He smiled, he laughed.

He felt alive again.

Somewhere in the middle of outlining a rough schedule, he glanced down at the time on his phone. Mid-sentence, he got up from his chair and walked over to get his coat off the hook by the door.

“Alright,” he said with a chuckle over Chase’s last clap back at a jab from his boyfriend Ian, “thanks for everything, you guys, but I’ve gotta run. We’ll talk about this more when I come in tomorrow.”

The room went pin-drop silent. Kurt didn’t notice.

“Where are you going?” Isabelle asked, getting up from her seat on the corner of his desk and approaching, knowing that he would need her in a second, the way she always knew. Kurt has referred to Isabelle as his Fairy Godmother ever since he first walked into Vogue fresh out of high school and trying to find a foothold in the hectic Gulf Stream that is New York City. She became his pillar of support, a sympathetic ear, and a clear head whenever he needed one. She had thrown his bachelor party. Hers was the condo he stayed in the night before his wedding. She’d hosted Grace’s baby shower.

Also, Grace’s wake.

She didn’t have children of her own and didn't plan on it, but she loved Grace as much as anyone.

And hers was the shoulder Kurt cried on when he found out Sebastian had cheated.

Kurt looked at her, confused, wondering why it was that everyone around him seemed to be holding their breath. “I just… have to go pick up Grace. From school. I’m going… I’m going to be late.”

Isabelle shook her head and put a hand on his. “Sweetie… ”

It took Kurt a second.

Even after one person gasped and another sniffled, with Isabelle’s sorrowful eyes staring at him, begging him to remember so she wouldn’t have to say it, he didn’t catch on.

When he did, it hit him like an electric shock straight through his body, rendering his muscles useless, and he crumbled to the floor. Isabelle held him for over an hour in that spot until Sebastian arrived. Kurt didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go to their empty penthouse and face the truth about his empty life. He wanted to stay at Vogue with Isabelle and live in that moment where everything was alright again for one shimmering second, even if it wasn’t real.

But he had to go. He had to leave with Sebastian, who had hurt him, back to his home, even if it killed him because even though he felt like his life was over, everything else continued on. People lived, and people died. The sun set in the evening, but in the morning, it would rise again.

He just didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.

Not without his Grace.

He was cried out by the time Sebastian got him home. Sebastian undressed him, helped him with his cleaning and moisturizing routine, and then put him to bed. It was Friday evening when Kurt shut his eyes and went to sleep. He lived that horrible moment at his office over again a hundred times before he opened his eyes. And when he did, it was Sunday morning.

Like this morning, but to a greater extent, when these attacks happen, locked in his own brain, sifting through the pieces to find one big enough and sturdy enough to hold on to, Kurt loses time.

In a blink, hours go by, sometimes a day. He’ll climb in the shower in the morning, turn the water on hot, and by the time he realizes it’s cold, it’s close to noon. He has sat at the dining room table for breakfast, staring at a bowl of oatmeal, and when he found the will to pick up the spoon, the oatmeal was old and stiff, and it was dinner time. He’s gone to bed on Monday and stared at the black behind his eyelids till Wednesday.

As far as Kurt knows, it’s only around lunchtime, but he glances at the clock in the corner of his screen to make sure.

12:45.

He breathes a sigh of relief. He double-checks the date to make sure he has a reason to and sighs again.

Still Tuesday.

Kurt switches back to the IKEA tab he’d been laboring long but not hard on earlier. He looks at the shopping cart he’s been steadily filling, scrolls through his selections of personality bereft, assembly line furniture, and groans. This isn’t him. This house, this blank slate, should be an endless fount of motivation.

But he's numb.

Maybe he's rushing into this. He should give this house and the neighborhood time to grow on him before he sentences it to the mundane.

He needs a break. (Kurt Hummel need a break from shopping? Since when?) He flips to a new page in his sketchbook. For shits and giggles, he tries drawing a sketch for his husband’s office. He starts with the easy part – Sebastian’s desk. Sebastian didn’t leave that in the penthouse, so Kurt will make it the linchpin and design around it.

Things flow surprisingly easily from there once he gets started, with a pencil in his hand writing on paper instead of working on a screen: an ornamental rug, a matching leather chair, burgundy velvet curtains, a chainmail style Tiffany desk lamp, 1930s art deco décor with a soupcon of Persian flair. But he doesn’t want the room to be too dark. No. Kurt wants nothing in their house to be dark. He adds a Salento chandelier over the open portion of the room and a sweep of color – one wall, opposite a window, a lighter shade than the rest. He doesn’t know what Sebastian’s office looks like, but there has to be a wall in there that will fit the bill.

An enamel and copper vase, a Khatam inlaid photo frame, a few Negar Gari…

Kurt stops.

Would Sebastian want that? The softer elements countering the strict lines of the art deco pieces, what could be described as feminine influences, are Kurt’s signature touch. But might Sebastian prefer the art deco without Kurt’s fingerprints all over it? Isn’t that what Sebastian meant by Kurt being heavy-handed with the pastels?

Back in high school, Kurt had decorated his bedroom so that he and his stepbrother could share it. He'd skipped school so he could complete it in one day. He’d worked hard on it, trying to fuse a masculine air with his theatrical influence. What he thought was an eclectic representation of the masculine and the feminine turned into a Moroccan-themed disaster.

The word his stepbrother chose to use at the time was faggy, but there were ulterior motives behind it.

Sebastian made jabs in high school about Kurt not wearing boy clothes, comments that adult Kurt recognizes as the teenage boy equivalent of pulling Kurt’s pigtails. But at the time, they stung. Sebastian wouldn’t have made those comments if there weren’t a grain of truth to them, would he?

Sebastian has never retracted those statements, so as far as Kurt is concerned, they stand.

Kurt flips his pencil over and starts erasing. He’ll pare down the extras – trade the Tiffany lamp for a banker’s lamp, replace the rug with something more Brooks Brothers than Pier 1.

Maybe he should just opt for another IKEA recreation, but that feels like copping out, going back on his word.

He could always ask Sebastian. He swears his husband has passed by a few times, his footsteps rising and falling outside his door, but Kurt didn’t think anything of it. He figures Sebastian is passing through on his way to get something from the bedroom that he needs downstairs. Kurt doesn’t imagine the man is pacing the hallway, even if he is, trying to find a way to tell Kurt that lunch is ready. Little things like lunch, innocuous things, have become huge divides over the past few months. With anyone else, Sebastian has a history of railroading over them, hurt feelings be damned.

But Sebastian has learned his lesson. He paid a hefty price learning it, too.

Contemplating between clearing his throat so that Kurt knows he’s there and letting another meal go cold, he sees Kurt’s head lift up. It seems like an opening. Whether or not it is, Sebastian takes it.

“Lunch is ready.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt mumbles, brushing eraser shavings aside.

“Are you… are you coming downstairs?”

Kurt erases again, then pencils something on a sheet of paper that Sebastian can’t see. “Hmm… mmm?”

It sounds like a question and an answer, but since Kurt doesn’t follow it up with anything, it most likely means that Kurt will be skipping lunch… again. Sebastian knocks idly on the door frame, giving Kurt a second longer to tell him for sure.

“Alright.” Disappointed, he turns to leave. “I guess I’ll come back up at dinner then.”

Kurt doesn’t know why the thought returns when he wasn’t even thinking about it, why it decided to nag at his brain when he had been able to ignore it for this long, but that’s the way his brain works now. His thoughts don’t always travel straight paths. They twist and turn, taking one thing and linking it to something unrelated. Erasing the ideas he’d sketched out, removing every inch of himself from Sebastian’s office, made him think about how eager he was to be rid of that word darling from above the window, and that ripped corner returns to his mind with a vengeance.

Well, as long as Sebastian is there, he might as well ask.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian pauses in the doorway, not daring to move. “Yes?”

“When was the last time you were here?” Kurt raised an eyebrow at the idea when it originally came to him. When would Sebastian have come to this house that Kurt didn’t know? They traveled Upstate once a year, but they always did it together as a family. And while they were here, Sebastian rarely ventured out alone. Sebastian isn’t the kind of person who would buy a house sight unseen.

Unless he had found it during one of his outings with Grace. Which would mean that Grace had seen the inside.

Grace would have seen this room and thought it would be hers, thought that they would someday live here, and Sebastian hid that word darling by the window for her and not Kurt.

The thought is so painful, it makes Kurt want to tear his nails out with his teeth so he’ll stop thinking about it.

Sebastian keeps his eyes locked to Kurt’s profile so he won’t miss the moment Kurt decides to look at him instead of the floor, the wall, or the ceiling.

“I found this house online. It wasn’t even on the market when I stumbled on it. To be honest, I’d only driven by it once. I hadn’t been inside until we moved in.”

“But you saw the inside,” Kurt asks. “Otherwise, how would you know about this room?”

“I took a virtual tour,” Sebastian admits sheepishly, “but it was extremely thorough. I’ve seen the blueprints, gone over the permits and the zoning. I had Tristan from the office look over the place when he came up to visit his folks. He facetimed me while he was here.” Sebastian furrows his brow. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Kurt’s heart beats regular again. Grace hadn’t seen it.

Thank God.

His eyes find the torn section of wallpaper, but they don’t stay there. He doesn’t want to clue Sebastian in about it if Sebastian doesn’t already know. He wants to uncover this mystery on his own. If Sebastian gets to keep secrets, big ones at that, then Kurt wants this one for himself.

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I was just curious, you know. Wanted to understand your process. Why this house, why this neighborhood, that sort of thing.”

Kurt’s sentence comes out choppy. It’s odd how awkward talking has become for them. Sebastian used to think that the two things they had mastered were talking and fucking. They did both together with such ease. There were never any boundaries between them, emotionally or physically. Even when they were cutting each other down, which they did in the beginning, they did so with such finesse.

Not like now, when Sebastian is walking on eggshells and Kurt doesn’t want to hear half of what he has to say.

“If you come down for lunch, we can talk about my process. If you’re curious, that is.” Sebastian watches Kurt expectantly, waiting for an answer.

And while Sebastian does, Kurt looks at his sketch – Sebastian’s office, the same way Sebastian always has it decorated. This is Sebastian without him and Grace: bland and emotionless, no light, little color, and no joy. Nothing exciting, nothing nuanced, nothing to indicate that he and Sebastian are together.

Not even those snapshots he’s so proud of.

Kurt hasn’t decided whether that’s a bleak picture or not.

“Sure. I’ll be down in a sec,” Kurt decides because he does and doesn’t have an answer to that one. It changes as the day changes, and the days change too quickly.

“Alright. I’ll be waiting.” Sebastian walks away, or Kurt thinks he does. He checks the time on his clock. It’s closing in on 2.

Kurt glances up at the window, the dangling wallpaper bouncing with the breeze coming from a draft near the ceiling. It would be so easy to tear it down – grab an edge and rip, be done with it once and for all. It might even feel cathartic, exposing whatever is underneath it. But lunch is ready. He’s already left Sebastian waiting long enough.

He leaves that mystery for another day.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #kurt hummel

20 notes · View notes

luvlyrv · 4 years ago

Text

The Fleeting Image of You | Wendy x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst and fluff

Summary: Your world was falling apart at the seams, until a mysterious girl fell into your life. Then, you began to fall for her.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: First time I’ve written something with the intention of making you cry. Please tell me if you cried, or if it at least made you sad. That’d be pretty epic. Is it mean of me to say that?

Also, I apologize for taking so long to upload something... I’ve been flooded with work lately and school is just getting way more stressful now :/ I have some stuff lined up for ‘Naughty’ and ‘Our Songs’ btw! Just have to finish.

Date: 2/2/21

You sigh as you sit down in your favorite corner of the library. You set your stuff down, making it known that you'd taken the seat, and stood back up to begin scouring for something new to read.

Spending your time in the quiet and tranquil local library had become a new favorite past-time of yours. It was strange, you thought, how lonely you felt recently. You couldn't help but find yourself disconnected from the majority of the world, a cloud of sadness following you everywhere. No matter how much you tried it felt like you couldn't bother to reach out. Yet, when it came to the library the loneliness exhibited here was not something awful, but rather something chased after. Something you can find comfort in.

You stop in front of a shelf as you reach out for a book with a maroon cover. It seemed to be on the older side. You gently grazed the spine of the book, enjoying the rougher texture it had. You pull it out of the shelf, only to be surprised that it had no writing on either side of the book. Perhaps the title and author would be written in the first page.

You open up the book to look inside. Instead of any text, the first page was a beautiful ink illustration. It seemed to be a design of a mirror. You trace the image and upon closer inspection, it didn't look printed on. It was as if someone drew it in the pages by their self. Maybe someone left their sketchbook here? Or perhaps this was just a strange, unlabeled picture book?

Intrigued by the illustration, you go back to your seat to sit down and flip through the other pages. After the mirror, there was an image of a girl, and after that an image of another girl. You smile a bit, finding the images cute. Especially the one of the second girl, who seemed to share the same hair length and style as you. While in the middle of admiring the art in front of you, you felt a presence. You turn your head up, only for the sight to make your breath hitch as a beautiful woman stood beside you. The stranger was also seemingly enchanted by the book in your hands.

"H-hi" You say softly, mesmerized by how soft her brown hair looked as it cascaded around her face. Her eyes that were scanning the book moved to look into yours. You felt your mouth dry up.

"Hey, I was just wondering if it was okay for me to sit at this table next to you?" The voice that left her mouth was laced with a friendly confidence. You quickly looked around the rest of the library, noticing the overwhelming amount of empty tables. You decide to not question it though, because why would you deny the company of someone like her?

"Sure." You nod as you answer, she flashes you a smile and sits across from you. She tugs at the bookbag she has around her body to open it, pulling out a thick book. You look back at your own book, but you can't seem to focus anymore. You flip the page to try and look busy, but you don't really pay attention to what's on the paper anymore. Your eyes glance back and forth from your book to the woman, who's now peacefully reading.

It takes time for the courage inside of you to build up, and you're afraid of disturbing her, but you felt like you had to say something.

"So… " You begin speaking. The stranger's head perks up as she gives you her attention. "What's your name?"

"Oh I'm sorry!" She laughs a little bit, the noise is akin to a sweet melodic bell. "I never introduced myself. You can call me Seungwan, and you?" You notice that Seungwan slips a bookmark into her book and gently closes her book. It seems like she's giving you her full attention, a feeling you haven't felt in a while. You smile before you talk.

"I'm Y/N, nice to meet you. What brings you here today?" You start playing with your hands underneath the table as the nerves begin to truly settle in.

And that's how it all started.

For the past couple of weeks your mood had been brightening significantly. Before, it was hard to get out of bed for the day to attend your classes. It was hard to even pick up your phone and reply to the very few messages you got. Most of them being from Yeri, the only person you'd consider a real-friend who occasionally checked in on you. Yet lately you found yourself hopping out of bed, excited with the prospect of wrapping up your day quickly to head to the library as soon as possible.

You now officially considered the library to be your second home. Instead of working at your desk you could work in the quiet library, surrounded by the smell of books and coffee and most importantly, Seungwan. As the two of you grew more familiar with each other Seungwan seemed to have a paradoxical effect on you.

The way her eyes stared into yours, all her little mannerisms, they would make you struggle to continue speaking coherently. At the same time though, her sitting across from you, quietly humming, made you feel at peace.

You wouldn't mind spending everyday like this, an evening filled with library-talk with Seungwan. It wouldn't hurt to switch it up a little though. So, when Seungwan finally came over to your little nook in the library, you excitedly jumped from your seat.

"Seungwan! How about we go do something fun?" You haven't even put your things down, expecting her to say yes. Instead she decided to tease you a bit first.

"Oh, is this not fun enough for you?" She plasters on an exaggeratedly hurt face and you punch her arm softly.

"You know I don't mean it like that. How about we go somewhere else for once?" You lean closer to her and tug on the sleeve of her cardigan to beg, and she quickly sighs in defeat.

"Let's go to a karaoke place then." She casually suggests. Meanwhile you start to panic, because god what if you embarrassed yourself in front of her?

"Well, uhm! I'm not too sure about that, how about we-"

"You're the one who's begging me to go out, so I'm picking where!" There's a playful tone in her voice as she immediately turns away from you, heading outside the library. You quickly follow her and decide not to worry too much about your singing skills.

When you arrive to the karaoke place and are ushered into your own room with Seungwan, you start to get nervous. She doesn't fail to notice the way your wiped your hands on your thighs as she hands you a microphone.

"Are you nervous?" She asks as she grabs a microphone for herself. She steps over towards you and sits down on the plush couch next to you.

"No. Maybe. Just a little." There's a pause before you admit your true feelings. "Yes, a lot." The both of you laugh at your comment before Seungwan gives you a friendly nudge.

"I won't judge! I promise you, just don't worry about it and we'll have fun tonight." She stands up and selects the first song for the evening.

If you didn't say that what you heard was angelic, you would be the world's biggest liar. You couldn't help but feel like the luckiest person in the world. It was as if an angel held a private concert just for you. Or perhaps, if sirens were real, this would be what they sounded like. Regardless of what you can compare it to, it was a special sound you wanted to treasure forever.

"I'm not sure how I could top that." You laugh after she finishes. She shakes her head before talking to you.

"Who said anything about being on top? Just have fun!" Then she drags you to go over and choose a song to sing.

You're nervous, you really are, but you decide to trust in Seungwan's words and give an honest performance. You pushed away your worries as you tried to enjoy yourself. By the end of the night, her promise came true. The many duets and solos you guys shared strained your throat, but it was a pain that was worth it.

Before the time in your room ran out Seungwan decided on singing one last song. You gave her some cheers as the song started playing, giving her some not needed (but hopefully appreciated) encouragement. After several seconds she finally started singing. Once again you found yourself feeling like you were on cloud nine solely from her voice.

It took a while for you to snap out in the trance-like state you entered, but once you did you truly appreciated the lyrics that your friend was singing.

"Do you think of me when you open your eyes in the morning? So you think of me when you see something nice? Do you laugh alone out of the blue like I do?"

It's a slow song, a soft song, a song filled with love and affection. It felt like her voice was built for something like this. As you listen to the lyrics heat begins to spread on your face. It felt like recently you've been asking the same questions to yourself about a certain person.

"Tell me is this the first time? Have you fallen for me as much as I have fallen for you?"

Maybe it was the intense desire in your heart that was playing tricks on your eyes, but it seemed like Seungwan's eyes kept looking between you and the screen more than usual. That there was a flicker of something within her welcoming brown eyes. Your heart is pounding too fast now. It threatened to beat out of your chest as your heartbeat filled your ears, becoming louder than the music itself.

"I want to know everything, if my heart has grown deeper than yours like a fool."

Certainly those lingering glances meant nothing. You ignore your feelings as you try to calm yourself down. When the song ended your time at the karaoke room was over. You complimented Seungwan before thanking her for her time. After promising each other to go out for karaoke another time, the two of you went your separate ways home satisfied with the fun night out.

When you got home, you pulled out a familiar maroon book before laying on your bed. You never properly checked it out. Mostly because it didn't even seem like a library book, judging by the fact that it had no stamps nor barcodes. You assumed that not many people were picking it up anyways, and so once you had your time with the book you'd carefully place it back where you found it.

It was odd that you wanted to keep the book so much, but that was due to how strangely comforting it was. Every once in a while you would pull it out again, only to admire it and its wordless contents. Besides the first few pages, every illustration had two girls together. Maybe those two girls were just friends, but in your mind you liked to imagine them as lovers. Your favorite illustration of it all was one towards the end. On the final pages there were illustrations of a night sky speckled with stars, the girls looking out to the sea.

You sigh before putting the book down and turning off the light. Closing your eyes you wonder, is that something you'd like to experience?

It's been a couple months now. You've spent a considerable amount of time hanging out with Seungwan, as well as a considerable amount of time gushing about her to Yeri. You never explicitly said you liked her, but you certainly didn't hold back on telling your friend every trait you admired about Seungwan.

These days, you and Seungwan would meet up in the library and sometimes stay there for a calm and quiet experience. Other times the two of you would be more inclined to have fun walking around downtown, going to karaoke, or enjoying the bustling energy of a café while drinking coffee.

Today was one of the days where Seungwan suggested to head over to get some coffee. Of course you agreed, as you decided long ago that anywhere Seungwan went you'd want to go too. Not surprised by your easy yes the two of you head out to your typical coffee place.

While in the middle of sipping on coffee Seungwan turns to the side. She rustles through her handbag to pull out two bracelets. She held onto the one with your name on it, while slightly bringing forward the one bearing her name. You stop drinking your beverage as you took a closer look at the bracelet resting in her hand.

It was a simple bracelet made with a dark string running through some beads. You appreciated the cute minimalism of it all. The beads were blue, and after spelling out her name there was a final bead that had a heart on it. You slowly reach out for the bracelet and wear it, admiring the way it felt and looked on your wrist.

You look at Seungwan's wrist as she also adorns the accessory. After your name was also a bead with a heart, and you can't help but to ask why she suddenly gave you such a gift anyways.

"Well… " She begins to look away, perhaps a bit nervously? When looking back at you she quickly looks back down. Unable to hold eye contact she explains herself anyways. "I thought it'd be a nice way to signify our connection. To keep us tied to each other." There's a moment of silence after she says this. You can't possibly control your heart, your mind, your feelings. Could this mean what you wanted it to mean?

"What kind of connection?"

"Whatever kind you want." The words come out a whisper as Seungwan finally looks back at you. Was this an opening? Did she mean what you thought she meant? You let your hand cautiously approach hers. She doesn't back away and let's you take it.

"Can I kiss you?" Your face is fire-hot as you ask, but now more than ever you wanted to. She leans in, and there was the first kiss you shared.

It was short, but it didn't need to be long. When your lips made contact it gave you a feeling of being weightless, yet at the same time it was enough to ground you into reality. This was it. It was really happening.

It had only been a few short weeks since you and Seungwan started dating. The two of you never said so aloud, but you both knew. She knew by the way you didn't shy to touch and be close with her more than before. You knew by the way she smiled and looked into your eyes. Sometimes when you like someone enough, you don't have to say it to understand.

Today when meeting up at the library Wendy took you out to eat at a nice restaurant. After enjoying dinner together she said she had something important to show you, curiously you followed her as the two of you eventually arrived at the boardwalk.

Since eating dinner took a while, it was now night. The bright white stars speckled the dark blue sky, while the inky black sea reflected the moon and the streetlights. Seungwan takes your hand, casually walking down the boardwalk with you while taking in the sights. You hum while enjoying the feeling of her hand in yours.

"Is this the important thing you wanted to show me?" You ask.

"I just wanted you to appreciate how beautiful the world can be sometimes, how beautiful living is." She says and looks at you. She gives you a smile. The kind of smile that told you that a person was content with life.

At one point Seungwan stops and leans over the railing, staring out to the sea. You lean over the railing right beside her. You spend some time admiring the sea, but you would rather turn and look at Seungwan. As you look at her she's still facing forward. Then she asks you a question you weren't expecting.

"Do I make you happy?" You would like to believe it's a rhetorical question, but she says it with a straight face.

"Of course you do, silly." You reply, scooting closer to her body to warm your own up. She smiles a bit at your answer before looking at you. There's a pause before she continues questioning you.

"Does anything else?"

"I don't know. Anything can be good as long as it's with you." You answer honestly, but Seungwan seems displeased. With a slight frown on her face and a glint of worry in her eyes she begins to hug you.

"I hope one day, Y/N, you realize you aren't alone." She says as she strokes your hair, tightening the embrace between the two of you.

"I won't be as long as I have you." You whisper into the crook of her neck. A moment of silence passes before she sighs and whispers.

"I wish you didn't rely on me so much."

"Why?"

She breaks the embrace and you begin to miss the warmth until she takes your face with her two hands. She looks at you with a longing you never saw before. Her eyes were watery as she gently confessed.

"Because I don't know how much longer we have together." You almost ask her to explain what she meant before she softly placed a kiss on your lips.

You wake up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as you look around your room. Just a moment ago you were by the sea with Seungwan, and now you were back in your room. You flopped in your bed in frustration that you dreamed up a scenario with her. You calmed down though, knowing that you could visit her again later today.

After attending your classes for the day you excitedly made your way to the library. You walked towards the little corner of the library that you and Seungwan always shared, surprised to see that nobody was there. You sat down at the table anyways, opening up your bag and trying to immerse yourself in a book. Your foot tapped and tapped, the words your eyes saw across the page meaning nothing to you. It had only been 10 minutes, but it felt like forever.

Annoyed at her absence, you walked around searching for her, thinking maybe she was hiding and playing a trick on you. You whispered her name as you peeked your head around corners, going up and down in the aisles between selves. Fed up with searching, you went to a familiar librarian and asked if she'd seen Seungwan yet.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but who's Seungwan?" She said with a confused look on her face. You gave her a confused face back, shocked that a woman who had recommended books for the both of you to read, a woman who had watched your blossoming relationship with Seungwan progress, act like she didn't exist. You scoff and laugh it off.

"Sorry for asking." You say in a slightly sarcastic manner and go to pick up your bag. You reckon that Seungwan made her play along with her joke. You'd have to scold her for messing with you so bad later today.

You're bored and you don't know how to spend your time with Seungwan. As you walk down the familiar path, looking out to the sea, you grab your phone and decide to call Yeri.

"Yerim!" You call out as soon as you hear her answer the phone.

"Yeah, what's up Y/N?" She asks you.

"I'm bored and have some time to kill since Seungwan isn't here today. Do you wanna grab something to eat?" There's a silence on her end for a while.

"Sure, where do you wanna meet up?" She asks, but before you can answer she gives you another question. "Also, who's Seungwan? Is this a new friend you made? You should introduce me to them!" Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden and you don't know what to say. You stammer out a response for Yeri.

"Uh, just meet me at the boardwalk. I'll be waiting here." Before Yeri can say anything else you end the call. You bite your tongue in frustration. Did Seungwan make Yeri play in on this too? Despite all the reasoning you tried to do, a deep, unsettling feeling took over your entire body.

When Yeri arrived, you smiled and went about your day with her. Throughout the day Yeri noticed that something was off about you. You kept zoning out and were unable to really hold a conversation. As frustrated as she was with your lack of engagement, she figured you were working through things and didn't question you about it. Later that night she dropped you off at your place and you thanked her. You went back to your room, allowing yourself to putt all your weight on your bed as you stared at the ceiling.

The tears you had been holding all day finally broke through. The hot and salty tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. Had this all just been a cruel joke from your mind? Was it just a dream that lasted too long? Maybe, just maybe, the voice screaming in the back of your head was right the entire time. Seungwan was just too good to be true.

You decide to pull out a book from your nightstand, the book that you found within the bookshelves the day you met her. Thankfully the book was there. Perhaps your memory didn't fail you entirely. When you opened it to the first page though, you were shocked to see nothing. Frantically, you scanned through all the other pages only to see them in the same state. You wanted to question it, but considering what happened earlier today you just couldn't.

All you could do now was cry. Nothing made sense to you. What happened to the person you just kissed mere hours ago? The person who made living bearable again?

Afraid of getting the book wet, you quickly close it and put it away. You raise your hand up to your face as you sniffle. Wiping away the waterfall coming from your eyes, you feel the soft scratches of a string and bead. You pull away to see the bracelet you so distinctly remember putting on snuggly fitting on your wrist. Nothing made sense and you could only come to one conclusion.

She was gone, but not gone from your memory.

95 notes · View notes

evanescentreverie · 4 years ago

Text

Limerence (SVT S.Coups)

The castle of Kestramore greeted you as you got out of the carriage, your hands tugging at the front of your ballgown. You found yourself staring at the line of royalties entering one by one, your heart pounding within your chest as you squeeze your hands to ease the nervousness you felt. On the outside, you may seem like a composed young lady but in reality, you felt like a newborn fawn heading out into the wild. You took a deep breath before walking inside of the castle.

You couldn't help but let your eyes wander around, admiring the design of the castle you were in. You had always admired the structure of the Kestramore Castle, always reading about it in the books that were found in your personal library. You sighed as you stopped yourself from touching anything, wanting more than anything to let out the joy that you felt from being here but alas, you had to keep your composure.

It wasn't long before you reached the large doors of the ballroom, a servant standing at the front of it. He stared at you, his mouth slightly open as he did. You tilted your head in confusion, wondering why he hadn't taken the invitation you had. "Hello?"

Seeming to have been broken from his trance, he held out his hand. You complied, handing the invitation to the servant. "Your name, my lady?"

"(Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n) from Tirianna." You uttered out, letting out a soft smile.

You saw how his eyes widened, a faint blush present on his cheeks as he coughed. He gestured the knights to open the door for you, as to which you nodded as thanks. You took a deep breath before entering the ballroom, your fingers sweating underneath the gloves you wore.

"Presenting Princess (Y/n) from the kingdom of Tirianna"

As you entered, you could feel the set of eyes that landed on your form. You felt the sudden urge to look down on the ground as you walked but you did everything you could to stop yourself from doing so. You were a dignified princess from Tirianna, your teacher would be disappointed in you if you did. So you walked with as much grace as you could muster, smiling whenever you made eye contact with another person. Taking a careful glance around the ballroom, you decided that you needed to socialize so you approached a set of royals with who you had grown familiar.

"(Y/n)! You're here!" Princess Elise, from the kingdom of Sarithia, had greeted you with a large grin. You chuckled at his energy, playfully slapping him in the arms as you did. "You talk as if we haven't seen each other last week, Princess Elise."

She let out a playful glare, a small pout present on her lips. "I told you, just call me Elise."

"Alright, Princess Elise." You teased.

"(Y/n)! I told you to---"

"It seems like the person I've been waiting for is here." A voice stopped Elise from speaking, allowing your heads to turn towards the source. Once you saw who it was, you smiled, your hands raised to wave at them. "Yvonne!" You saw how she let out a smile towards you, her arms outstretched to hug you. You gratefully returned her hug, happiness bubbling in your stomach.

She had been one of your first few friends, the two of you meeting at the town square. It was a funny story, really. You were only walking by when you saw her, surrounded by a group of stuck-up princesses. They had been yelling at her, telling her words that would have made anyone tear up but she only glared at them, mouth shut as she listened to them. You had stayed, watching the group grow more annoyed at her silence. It was only when they threatened to slap her that you ran to her side, catching the hand of the female before harshly pushing her.

You took her hand after doing so, head-turning to her before whispering, "Run." You pulled her along, the female growing confused as the two of you ran to get away from the stuck-ups.

"Why are you doing this?!" She yelled out in between breaths, as to which you could only laugh.

"I don't know! I just wanted to!"

After that, the female made sure that you felt at ease with the royalties, introducing you to her select group of friends. There was never a time where she didn't invite you to her tea parties, sometimes only being the two of you. She, like you, only had a few friends, seeing as she is quite introverted and prefers to be with those she is close with.

"No fair, (Y/n)! You call her by her name while I'm stuck with formalities."

The two of you broke from the hug, the two of you looking at the Princess. Yvonne smiled sarcastically, a teasing tone lacing her voice as she stared at her. "Oh? Is that so? I thought you guys were close but I guess not?" She sighed, head shaking in playful disappointment.

"We are!"

The sight of the two caused you to laugh at their interaction. Noticing that you were quiet, Yvonne turned to you, "Have you only arrived, (Y/n)?"

You nodded, "I did, I was lucky to see Elise immediately. It was getting uncomfortable with the people staring at me."

"Well," She glanced at you from up to down, before letting out a proud smile, "I wouldn't be surprised if they did, have you seen yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look absolutely ravishing, (Y/n)."

Elise nodded in agreement, "That's right! You look really good today (Y/n)!" She let out a thumbs up, her grin present on her mouth once more. You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to look at your friends due to their comments. 'Was that really the reason...?'

"By the way, isn't today the day?"

You glance at Yvonne, wondering what she had meant by that. She gestured you to look at your arm, your eyes trailing at the numbers that were on them.

00:00:07:49

"How did you..." You trailed off, gazing at the female in front of you. She merely let out a small chuckle, sipping the wine that she had taken from the servant that passed by.

It wasn't long before Elise left the two of you, the female called on by her soulmate, Felix. She looked back at the two of you, saying out his apologies before waving.

"It looks like it's only the two of us now," Yvonne whispered out. From the corner of your eyes, you saw a person walking towards the two of you. They had gestured for you to pretend you didn't see them, as to which you subtly nodded before smiling at Yvonne. "It won't be for too long."

She looked at you, confusion present on her features. It wasn't long before the person joined you, his hands covering Yvonne's eyes. Her hands held the hands that were on top of her eyes, taking them off before turning around. When she saw who it was, her expression visibly softening, "Wonwoo."

The said man chuckled, placing his hands around her waist before kissing the top of her head. As the two conversed, you didn't fail to see the way they look at one another, eyes full of love and adoration for one another. Smiling, you quietly left their side, walking towards the large window of the ballroom.

Once more, you checked on your arm, hands tracing the numbers that were placed on them. You felt a sense of nervousness bubbling in your stomach, mind overthinking about the littlest of things.

'I wonder if he'd like me.' You sighed before fixating your eyes on the view of the garden outside, admiring the hard work that was placed onto it. Your curiosity grew more as you continued to stare outside, soon making a decision to head out. You walked towards the exit leading to the garden, soon welcoming the silence that it brought. While you enjoyed conversing with your friends, it was quite tiring to be in a large crowd of people.

You walked into the garden, admiring the flowers that decorated your surroundings. Your eyes spotted a nearby bench, deciding that it would be best to take a seat. It was a beautiful night to be outside, the stars shining brightly in the sky. You smiled as you closed your eyes, enjoying the breeze that the night gave you.

A sudden pinch on your arm made you flinch, your other hand rubbing on the part where you felt the pinch. You glanced at your hand, Your eyes widening when you saw the numbers all turn to zero. "No way..."

"It's you." A voice broke you out of your trance, head-turning towards the source. Your eyes widened when you realized who it was, your mind refusing to believe what you were seeing. You glanced down at your arm before slowly glancing back up to the man. "Prince Seungcheol," You whispered out breathlessly, your heart refusing to calm down.

You couldn't help but admire the person in front of you. His hair was as dark as a raven, his skin a beautiful shade of ivory. His face was a bit on the smaller side, with the curves of his mouth pointing downwards. His eyes were the most prominent to you, a pair of intense eyes that were now staring at you. If God had favourites then he was surely one of them.

The man approached you, a sheepish smile gracing his lips. "May I?"

You nodded, eyes wandering around the garden as he sat down beside you. You could feel your cheeks flush, your hands fiddling on the gown you wore. You turned to him, the man looking at the fountain in front of you. "How did you know?"

"I just felt it, I guess? The moment my eyes laid on you, I felt a small pinching on my arm and when I looked, it was all zeroes." He peeked at you from the corner of his eyes, "Didn't you feel it?"

"I did, I know exactly how it feels."

There was silence between the two of you after, but it wasn't the type that made you uncomfortable. Rather, you appreciated his presence beside you, despite the silence. You slightly shivered, the cold night breeze causing you goosebumps. Seungcheol, seeming to have noticed, slowly began taking off his coat. "Are you cold?"

"A bit," You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes, soon realizing what he was doing, "But I'm okay, I swear! You don't need to..."

He wrapped his coat around your form, his eyes staring into yours as he did. Your cheeks flushed once more at his actions, "Thank you but what about you?"

"I'm fine, don't worry about me," He let out a soft smile when he saw the difference in your size, "I think it looks better on you."

You coughed, eyes looking away from his stare. You could hear him chuckle, causing you to peek at him from the corner of your eyes. You found yourself looking at his smile, seeing that it was the kind of smile that could light up a room. You allowed yourself to be swayed by it, your stomach bubbling with happiness. He noticed your gaze on him, "I forgot to ask earlier but may I have your name?"

You blinked your eyes slowly, "My name?"

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, "I didn't quite catch it."

"You placed your coat on me despite not knowing my name?"

"Is that a bad thing?" A hint of red spreading across his cheeks. You stared at him for a few seconds before letting out a small laugh. Seungcheol could only gaze at you confusedly, causing you to wave your hands as a gesture that it was nothing. You held out your hand, a grin plastered on your mouth. "I'm (Y/n). (L/n)(Y/n)."

He glanced at your hands before smiling, wrapping his hands onto yours. "Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol."

The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds, not finding it in yourselves to let go. His eyes never broke contact with yours, a soft expression gracing his features. He opened his mouth to say something, "Do you, maybe, want to spend the rest of the evening with me, Princess (Y/n)?"

You chuckled softly, slightly nodding as you gently removed his hold from yours. "I'd love to."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

32 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 3 years ago

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Five): Just To Want It All

Notes: As stated in last chapter notes, i have a decent chunk of chapters done so these are coming out pretty rapid fire. Otherwise, I don’t have much to say other than massive thanks to my friend who reads these over for me and has been cool with me dropping 80+ pages of fic on them in a week. because yeah...I finished another chapter of this.

Word Count: 7885

Chapter Warnings: mentions of alcohol and cursing, if that counts as a warning in cyberpunk 2077.

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

Lizzie’s Bar stands out brilliantly in the city; out of all the gangs, she thinks she likes The Moxes aesthetic the best. Vivid pink and bright teal. Their colors splashed across the overpass, along with a neon pink skull sign with hair and a bow. At the side of the building is a towering neon skull girl sign, full bodied with an animated kicking leg and axe held above her head, the same hot pink color.

She parks and gets out of her car, doing a quick scan of the area, searching for more Militech drones. None that she sees, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. The credchip burns in her pocket, remembering some of the stuff T-Bug has taught her. How to crack an encrypted shard and see what’s on it, how to transfer its contents. V rifles through her bag, remembering she had a blank credchip somewhere. If Militech did anything dirty, V should be able to transfer the eddies onto a clean chip.

V makes a beeline to the front door, cement blockers and walls covered in graffiti. More neon signs, the bars name over the door in glowing turquoise letters. Lizzie Jizzie scrawled across an outside wall; two screens on each side of the double stores, all covered in Nicola ads requesting V ‘taste the love’. Groups of people loiter in the open outside the bar. V’s eyes are drawn to the two bouncers outside the doors.

Two women, one leans against the outside wall as she puff away on a cigarette. Short slicked back hair that starts blue and then fades to green, eyes hidden behind sunglasses and a gold septum piercing in her nose. The other one stands in front of the doors, a yellow spiked bat held over her shoulders. Long hair pulled up into space buns, purple roots and pink ends. Both of her arms are metal; black with pink and teal accents as well as spikes along the forearms. Both women are skimpily dressed, no shame in that. The one wielding the bat has a white top with cleavage going beyond her breasts, showing her almost plastic looking skin and the Moxes tattoo across her chest. The other shorter haired bouncer is wearing neon pink pasties beneath a teal bomber jacket. V’s been here before, has maybe seen them in passing, both really attractive. She’s not sure there’s a Mox member who isn’t.

“Hey there, dollface!~” The bat wielder greets her with a grin, as if she could actually see V’s face.

“Interest you in a preem BD?” The smoker offers.

“What you got?” V asks to be polite, she doesn’t honestly even like brain dances. But the girls are cute, so… no harm in a little small talk.

“What don't we got? Women and men of your dreams, synaptic acting A-listers. No washed-up virtuporn boytoys or blow-up dolls here.”

“Auteur stuff - It'll grip your heart and blow your nerves right outta your body. Pure bit-based ecstasy - that’s why people come here.”

“Sure know how to sell it, don’t you?” V signs, trying not to laugh as the bouncers give her the spiel.

“Not a sales pitch, it's a warning. I'll give you one word - bespoke. Not for everyone's synapses.”

“Think you can handle it?”

“Think I can manage it,” she tells them, knowing damn well she has no intent to get any sort of virtus.

“Mmhm. Couple of things you need to know first,” she affectionately rubs her bat, “Ahem. Severe penalties for any unauthorized recording… “

“No drugs, no groping. Someone catch your eye, you do not grab 'em. You find 'em in the catalog, ask for a BD and get yourself a box.”

“No worries, not even my first time here.”

“Door's open. Have fun, Doll.”

“Welcome to Lizzie’s.”

The double doors open and V walks through a blue beaded curtain. There’s a front room, a stand where a woman with a bright pink mohawk is selling clothes, under another Nicola ad and neon letters saying ‘Fuck To Death’ behind her.

“My what a sweet face you have,” she says, her tone honeyed but its clear she hasn’t looked up from the counter, not even noticing as the masked merc walks past through another beaded curtain and double doors to the main club.

“Here in Night City~”

Music thrums as she steps in; the room is lit with strobing pink and teal lights. Couches with neon glowing lights on the underneath, some people with BD wreaths and others playing on their phones. People dancing to the club music and bar tucked away in the corner. She doubts the client will be right at the start of opening, so V finds an empty stretch of couch, sitting down on black leather with a pink neon light at her feet. V slides the Militech cred chip into her mask, it takes a moment, but she manages to crack it and get a look at the inside.

Ten thousand eddies and malware; it was meant to send all of Maelstrom’s data to another server and then fry the systems. Meaning, if V handed it over Maelstrom would get their systems fried, with her and Jackie dealing with the aftermath. V slides the blank cred chip into another slot in her mask’s edge, transfering the clean money over to it. Fucking around with tech and daemons isn’t her strong suit, but if she recalls Bug telling her that fairly simple malware like this could be reworked pretty easily. She works through the coding with her thoughts, the data and interface all on her mask. If she can get the coding right, she might be able to have it send something other than data back to the Militech servers… Shifting and twisting what she thinks will work… if she’s done it right, instead of sending data back to Militech’s server, it should inject the same malware back into their system. If used, it would spike both Maelstrom and Militech.

She’ll call up T-Bug before they hit Maelstrom, double check she did the steps right. If Maelstrom play nice, they can pay and be done, if not...she can fuck over the gangoons, Militech, and walk away with an extra ten thousand in her pocket. She puts the credchips in her pockets, spiked one in her left and clean one in the right.

Time to have a look around for the client. V making a beeline for the bar, bartenders always have all the info. Lizzie’s Bar in neon over the drink station, a brightly blue lit corner where a man works at making drinks, shelves of booze behind him. She climbs onto a blue vinyl bar stool, feet no longer on the ground and unable to resist swinging them a bit. The bartender comes to her; a man with slicked back dark hair, glowing white cybernetic eyes, and silver embellishments run across his cheeks and jaw. His shirt bright blue with a tropical design and if not for a single button above his pants, it’d be completely open. Beaded necklaces bringing even more attention to his exposed chest and stomach.

“Get you something?”

“Looking for Evelyn Parker,” she speaks the woman’s name, not wanting to waste time fingerspelling it even if the sound feels tight in her throat.

“And you are?”

“V, me and her were supposed to meet here.”

“Well, V, it’s a pleasure. I’m Mateo.”

“Nice to meet you… any idea where she’s hanging around?”

“Club's big. Gonna have to look around. Can't do it for you-”

“It's all right, Mateo,” a feminine voice calls out and V’s eyes are drawn to a woman at the bar, “I was waiting for this one.”

There’s something about her, distinctly Mox and also not. Her hair is a short vivid blue bob with bangs cut straight across her forehead. Heavy makeup, a tight silver sequin dress with a dipping neckline, red thigh high vinyl boots, a black trench coat that pools around her knees with a pink and white feathered collar. She holds two fingers up to the bartender and moves to the bar stool closer. There’s a clang and tink of glass; Mateo getting out a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

“That won’t be necessary,” V signs before he can fill the second glass, “I don’t drink on the job.”

“Aww, what a good girl,” Evelyn coos, a smile pulling at her painted lips, “Evelyn Parker. I knew it was you as soon as you walked in.”

“And you decided to let me wander around instead of introducing yourself?”

“I wanted to get a good look at you first.”

“And?” V watches as Evelyn takes a swig of her tequila.

“Rest assured, if I didn’t like what I see, you’d know,” she takes another drink, “C'mon. Know a place we can talk where ears won't prick up to listen. We'll be in the lounge, Mateo. Anyone asks we're not here.”

Evelyn takes her black clutch purse and leaves the bar, V puts some money down for Mateo; if nothing else to compensate for his time. V hops down from the stool and follows after Evelyn, through a pair of double doors that goes into a hallway tinted red and pink, booth doors lining the way. The blue haired woman opens up a door, standing to the side as V walks in.

The booth is small, circular with a red vinyl couch around it’s curve, a table in the middle projects a hologram of a stripper who twists and dances. V sinks into the cushions, watching Evelyn stride in and light a cigarette as the door closes behind her. Everyone in the city a smoker it seems. As Evelyn puffs on a cigarette, V is somehow just noticing the gold nail like finger caps she wears.

“Dex had a load to say about you. Called you professional, effective. And trustworthy. I hope he wasn't overselling…“

“You don’t give a shit what he says,” V retorts, not missing the tinge of disdain Evelyn’s voice. V doesn’t need anyone to blow wind up her ass.

“You have trouble accepting compliments?”

“Flattery’s beneath you.”

“Maybe Dex is beneath you,” Evelyn moves around the table, grabbing an ashtray from the table, then sitting down next to V, crossing her legs, “Have you known each other long?”

“First time working with him.”

“Hmmm, I've heard there are two kinds of fixers. Those with stable crews on long contracts and short leashes. Loyalty and predictability they value above all else. Then there's the other kind- Dex's kind.”

“Meaning?”

“Headhunters. They lay their trust elsewhere, not in people but in a thing- their intuition. They bet on potential. And if they lose that bet…It's the last mistake they ever make. I’m hoping Dex’s intuition served him well in this case.”

“Let's get to the point, why am I here, what’s this about?”

“Your target - I trust you know what it is.”

“Arasaka biochip.”

“Mmmhmm, their Relic, secure your soul technology. Arasaka's poured billions into personality transfer technology. But me - I just want the data on this one. The chip is tucked away inside Konpeki Plaza, the hotel. You ever been?”

“Fancy corp hotels? Yeah, no, way out of my price range.”

“The decor's to die for. As you'll see for yourself.’

So, V and Jackie have to bust into some fancy hotel to get the chip people are arguing about on tv. Understood, so far. But, theres a lot of risks involved in a heist of this scale. Its one thing to rip off a dropped piece of cargo or a convoy from a corp; but this kind of top notch tech?

“You know where the chip is, exactly?”

“In a suite on the top floor. The room's occupied by Yorinobu Arasaka.”

V swallows the lump in her throat, the son of Saburo Arasaka, heir to the entire fucking corp. She’s once again finding herself wondering why Dex thinks her and Jackie can handle a job of this caliber, the Arasaka’s seem downright un-fucking-touchable to a merc like her.

“He’s in NC?”

“Don't you read the screamsheets?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Well, the media couldn't get enough of Yori coming to Night City, it was all over the headlines. He's heir apparent to the Arasaka empire - Saburo Arasaka's only surviving son.”

“So, he trying to take over while he’s in town?” V asks, trying to understand what exactly is going on.

“Only a handful of people in Night City know what the Arasakas' real plans are.”

“And you included in that?”

A smirk stretches across her face, green eyes devious; “Yorinobu is a puppet. He lost all his cards years ago when he failed to do daddy's bidding. Saburo's had Yori's balls in a vise for years. He might just turn the screw and crush them outright if he learns his son's up to no good again.”

“Someone like him is bound to have an army surrounding him, that hotel is probably a fortress by now.”

“Yorinobu keeps exactly no muscle around. Not one guard. Got rid of them a long time ago.”

“Why?”

“Surely you know what they say about Arasaka intel? Sneeze in Night City and a blossom drops from a cherry tree in Tokyo. Yorinobu was convinced his Arasaka security detail reported directly to his father.”

“If you got a spare ache up your sleeve, I’d love to see it.”

“ Now, this should make your tits perk up,” she says, putting the ashtray aside and leans forward.

“My tits are quite comfortable where they are, I assure you.”

“Cute, but more importantly, Yorinobu recently swiped the chip from an Arasaka laboratory. He's made a deal with NetWatch, aims to sell it to them. Have you spotted my ace yet or do I need to spell things out?”

“Okay, no muscle because he has daddy issues and no security on the device because he stole it from said daddy. Any idea where he’s hiding the thing?”

“Likely in a specialized container, one that mimics an organic neural environment. On the outside, it looks like an ordinary briefcase.”

“Which would be where?”

“You'll see for yourself soon enough,” she stamps out her cigarette and stands up, walking to the door, “Provided we're done gossiping about the Arasakas.”

“You know anything else about him?” V asks, wanting to see if she can mine any more useful information about the heir that could help.

“Quite a bit, actually. He studied finance and biotech in Tokyo. Hm, probably didn't have a choice in the matter, come to think of it. Saburo was grooming him to be his successor. But then Yorinobu vanished to chase his own dreams, cut himself off from the corp for years. Long story short, though the black sheep returned, the bitter taste remained. But that's only one side of him. There's another - an intelligent man who has always walked his own path and so has his own designs on the corp.”

There’s no doubt in V’s mind now that Evelyn knows Yorinobu personally, the way she talks and speaks is clearly colored by experience. Some prodigal son who ran away from his father and then came back with his tail between his legs when he couldn’t cut it alone. An odd lump in V’s throat at the thought; running away from shitty dads, being a black sheep…

“Sounds like any other corpo dick to me,” V signs, not liking the parallels her brain is starting to draw.

“Hm. Ever tried to imagine what life might be like for an emperor's son? You have everything, yet you are no one, nothing. At least as long as you remain in Saburo Arasaka's shadow. I…” she scratches almost sheepishly at her neck, her wannabe femme fatale attitude slipping for just a moment, “...sympathize. It's a vulnerability I understand well.”

V is still finding herself finding uncomfortable similarities between herself and fucking Yorinobu Arasaka. Its stupid, she doesn’t know the man and he has the wealth to destroy her for pretending she does. But, a power hungry leader for a father, leaving home, terrified of being under his thumb. Only difference, well many, but most pressing is she’s managed to make it on her own...so far… at least. Not that she hasn’t had her doubts or worries.

“So, what’s next?” V asks, practically shaking her head to dispel the weirdness swimming in her brain. Black sheep or not; Yorinobu Arasaka has a silver spoon in his mouth. She’s a nomad turned Night City edgerunner; their lives couldn’t be more far removed.

“Now comes the best part,” Evelyn opens the door and turns to leave, “Follow me. Got somethin' for you. Should help you plan. Braindance from Konpeki Plaza.”

V follows Evelyn out into the hallway, “ how’s a braindance going to help?”

“Think BDs are only good for fondling virtual tits, jackin' off to in those boxes?”

“Thought that was the main selling point, yeah,” V teases back as they turn a corner in the hallway, headed towards a door.

“No. They can be a very useful tool. Good for analyzing details human perception, even boosted, doesn't grasp. Exactly what you need,” Evelyn teases as they enters a dressing room, a few Mox at the tables painting their faces with makeup and styling their hair.

“What's on the tape?” Through another door and neon lights fade to harsher, darker lighting.

“Yorinobu's suite. The glorious interior,” the walk down a short metal flight of stairs, “You'll need to locate the Relic yourself. Hope I grabbed enough detail to make that possible.”

The stop at the end of the steps, Evelyn turning to look at V with a hand on her hips. Not that V really had any more doubt about it, but she’s been given more evidence that Evelyn and Yorinobu know each other.

“You recorded it?”

“Mhm. BD rec implant. Why, you object?”

“Not particularly, who you know and what you do with them is none of my business, lets see the braindance.”

“Judy'll help. She's a Mox, too,” down another short flight of stairs, deeper into the basement, “Besides, we go back… years.”

Evelyn stops them again outside a pair of double doors, Lizzie’s is starting to feel like a little maze at this point. But more importantly, Evelyn’s paused again, stumbled over her words and showed something under her facade. V felt something was off, a Mox but somehow not, and she’s starting to think Evelyn is purposely trying to put up a front. That she’s trying, a little too hard, to come across like femme fatale or corpo. Evelyn clears her throat.

“V, this is important. Judy's always been there for me. Always helped out. I trust her. But she's a Mox, not the latest member of your crew. Try not to forget. So you'll be a good girl, tread lightly and keep that tongue on a leash.

“Oh, but it's not my tongue you need to worry about.”

“Hmm, can feel you smirking under that mask, keep it up and I’ll tie those hands down, too,” Evelyn says with a wink as they pass through the double doors into another hallway, then through one more door.

Evelyn leads her through the basement doors, a dark little room with servers, netrunning chairs and screens. In an office chair slouching with one leg on a desk is a woman; late twenties or so with olive skin. One side of her hair is shaved, the other shaggy and down to nearly her shoulder, a deep green color with bright pink ends. The woman is heavily tattooed, bright red roses nestled above her collar bones, a spider web on her right shoulder, a cartoon ghost sitting in a shell, and a large number 13 on her bicep are among the standouts. But V could spend hours describing each artwork.

“Ahem.”

“Hey, there you are…” Judy greets Evelyn, a playful almost flirty tone to her voice.

“This is V. She's here for that BD roll. And V, this is Judy - best braindance editor I know.”

“Enough already, gonna make me barf.” There’s a slight accent to Judy’s voice, not unlike Jackie’s.

“Impressive set up,” V signs, at least, she assumes it’s impressive. Tech is already a bit of a blind spot for her, especially when it comes to brain dances.

“Mhm, Analyzers, sensory sig amps, acoustic and emotive wave monitors, facial expression translators.”

“Ahem, Judy,” Evelyn stops the inked editor before she can tell V more.

“All right, all right… Compiled your BD, Ev.”

“What do you think? Will it do?”

“Still pretty raw… but yeah, oughta do.”

“Mhm. V needs to get deep inside, that's most important.”

“So, let's calibrate, tune it to her,” Judy stands up from the table and moves to the desk closer to the door, sitting down below a neon pink light, “Believe me, I've dealt with worse. Should see the dig-Jig Street porn we gotta contend with sometimes.”

Evelyn has followed behind Judy, standing behind the editor’s chair, “So we drop V inside? Let her look, let her rummage around, right?”

“How 'bout it, V? Raw braindance - ever taken a dip before?” Judy leans forward on the desk, looking at V.

“No, not at all, but I’m a quick learner,” that feels like a lie as soon as she says it, “ and need to know what I’m dealing with. So.”

“Siddown, settle in, and we'll get you goin'.”

V turns around to the chairs, either netrunning or ripperdoc chairs, she’s not sure. But, she climbs into one, settling down into it as Judy comes back out around the desk. Judy is nearby, fiddling with a brain dance wreath.

“Be easier to fit without the mask.”

“Mask has optic tech, linked to my neuroport and biomon, should work just like it does with any set of cybereyes.”

“‘Fraid of ruining the mystery?” Evelyn asks, teasing again.

“Mask is for business, lot harder to track a merc if you got no clue what they look like. You that curious, feel free to try and track me down during my off time.”

“Fine, fine,” Judy affixes the BD wreath around V’s head, lining it up properly on the merc before walking back to the desk, “Gotta create your sensory profile first.”

“Go for it.”

“Now, sit still, look at me. Gonna run the analysis soft should feel a slight tingling…”

V’s breath catches as it prickles across her skin, a crackling and warm sensation crawling across every nerve. From the base of her skull, down her spine, across her arms to her fingers, running down her legs to her toes. A vague pulse, a current of something.

“OK now let's set the optics and other sensory sigs. Look smack into these two screens, pretend it's an eye exam.”

The two wreath panels flash and strobe white light, building in urgency and frequency.

“Gimme two more minutes. One more sec, need to get the pain receptor limiters in… OK. All set. Need to test your profile first. Tossing in a sam-”

“We can just use my recording, there’s no point in wasting time,” Evelyn interrupts Judy.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’m fine with just jumping to her BD,” V interjects her opinion, “better to get right to it.”

Judy sighs and rolls her eyes; “Fine, fine, what do I know.”

“Great, I’ll just need to patch Bug in.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Who?” Judy jumps up from her desk, crossing her arms and looks at V like she just asked to summon Satan.

“Runner from my crew, security specialist. She'll tell me what to look for while we analyze. No problem, I assume?”

“Actually, it is a problem! You’re already asking me to cut fucking corners and now you want to bring someone else in?! Not what we agreed, Ev!”

“It’s not a big deal,” V signs, not sure what Judy’s sudden problem is.

“No big deal! You don't quite grasp the risks I took by lettin' you in here! What I'm risking pokin' around with this stuff!”

Judy continues to yell and V rolls her eyes, she’s a BD editor, not part of the actual crew, the client, or the fixer. If Arasaka goes after anyone it sure as shit won’t be Judy, so why is she throwing a fit.

“And you don’t seem to grasp the risk I’d be taking if me and my partner went stumbling into that hotel with no fucking clue as to what we or our runner are up against. I miss one hidden turret and I get pumped full of lead, either my runner links in or I’m gone.”

V makes a point to twist her head and look at Evelyn at the last part; Bug is the most highly trained member of their crew and Dex’s go to runner. Without her involvement and eyes on it, the job won’t be going anywhere.

“Bye then!” Judy yells out, “good riddance and don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

“Judy, please…”

“Ev, she wants to bring a 'runner in. What part of that don't you understand?! How do I know she'll only perch in this footage, observe, not fuck with anything?!”

“Because Bug is literally involved with the heist, has a dog in this fight, and wants it to go well too,” V signs, hoping the AI voice is getting her annoyance across, Judy does level a glare at her over Evelyn’s shoulder.

“Me,” Evelyn steals Judy’s attention, “I'm your guarantee.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Help me, this one last time. I promise everything'll work out, just like we planned.”

And it hits V, between the flirting and the soft drop in Evelyn’s voice here. The reason Judy is so worked up about this; her and Evelyn have something. Friends teetering the line into something else, girlfriends already, or maybe even more than that. V’s not sure. But there’s something distinctly not platonic to the way they interact. Maybe that’s the play on Evelyn’s. Scam Yorinobu Arasaka then run away with her porn editor girlfriend.

“Fine,” Judy shakes her head and sits back down, the anger gone, “call Bug and we’ll dive in.”

That issue taken care of V rings up T-Bug, the netrunner answering after a ring or two.

“What’s up, V?”

“Bug, listen. I got some useful footage from Konpeki Plaza. It's a braindance.”

“Konpeki? Ohhh, thought as much…” Judy looks up at Evelyn.

“Someone there with you?”

“Client and her...friend...is what I’ll settle on; that’s not what matters right now, its going to give us a layout of the room, a chance to find where the chip is, and some idea of security.”

“All right, see if I can walk you through it. Jackin’ into your tech now,” notifications alert across her mask’s interface, “Mh, you've gotta give me access. Opening port 1779… Secure protocol? Good, I'm goin' in. Should be getting my request… …now.”

“Got it. You ready?”

“Millisec. OK, connection confirmed, now some quick temp ICE and… we're clear. Ready to dance.”

“Let’s do this.”

And with that the wreath panels begin to flash and strobe in front of V’s eyes, quicker and quicker until the world goes out in white. And in the next snap of a moment, one reality becomes another. Her body is no longer her own, she’s placed in Evelyn’s mind standing outside an elevator. What feels like her body, moves to adjust a purse strap, gold capped nails.

“All right, V - eyes open. Gotta find out where Yorinobu is keepin’ the Relic. Everything is controlled by thought and intention; you can step into editor mode, access everything her cyberware picked up a signal of, can scan, rewind, fast forward. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

The doors open, exposing the hotel room, and a horror show of a man walking towards her. V can feel the spike in fear, whether from Evelyn in the moment or V’s own instinctual reaction; she isn’t sure. He’s around eight feet tall, complete metal and cyberware from his feet to his upper lip; more machine than human. Wire, hydraulics, steel; all branded with Arasaka. The flesh section of his head is sickly ashen protrusive veins, glowing red where eyes should be. As he draws closer there’s a whirr of machinery, hydraulics pistoning to give him movement. How is he alive? How is he functional?

“You look like a cut of fuckable meat. Are you?” He asks as he walks past, voice edged with something inhuman.

Evelyn reigns her fear back in, the past version of her walking deeper into the room, where a dark haired man sits at a table in front of a large screen where another blonde haired man speaks back to him.

“I said no,” the dark haired man speaks out, his voice colored by a Japanese accent and V knows it’s Yorinobu. Evelyn continues to walk closer, her heels clicking against the floor.

“They'll have my head for this…”

“Then you shall perish for a good cause.”

“But I-”

“Make yourself comfortable. I need a minute to finish,” Yorinobu tells Evelyn, sparing just a glance over his shoulder.

“Listen in on that conversation, V! Could be something important.”

She wants to watch through first, do an initial watch to look for things and then go more in depth. Two watches at least should mean she’s covered everything. Yorinobu switches the conversation to his holophone, pacing around the room. Evelyn meanwhile puts her purse down on the chair, then walks behind him, trying to keep him in range

“My father is a tired, visionless old greybeard who thinks nothing will change and he'll live forever in his tiny, frozen bubble! You will listen to this - Saburo is an addled despot utterly removed from reality, stuck in some fossilized vision of a world that no longer exists! Of a world that may never have existed! We have not seen eye to eye for the last twenty years. I am quite sure we won't now.”

Yorinobu continues to talk as Evelyn pours herself a glass full of champagne and takes a drink, the tech allowing V to taste the sweet bubbles as if they were on her own tongue. Glass in hand she takes a slow look around the room and walks back to the center of it, sitting at the table, the plush of the cushion letting her sink into it.

“Noted,” Yorinobu says into the phone as he starts to walk back to Evelyn, there’s something in his eyes, “enough.”

He hands up, putting the phone down on the table. Evelyn looks up at him and V through her eyes gets her first good look at the Arasaka heir. Dark hair with the sides shaved down close to the scalp, glasses perched on his nose. His cyberware is surprisingly minimal for a man of his wealth, two streaks of silver going up his neck to his jawline.

“Sorry, to make you wait,” he touches Evelyn’s shoulder and the woman rises, “business can be stupid.”

They’re close and V can feel his hands on her, Evelyn’s, hips. Evelyn’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mmh, it wasn't long,” Evelyn hums and it feels wholy unnatural to feel like she’s speaking with someone else's voice, “Not even long enough for me to grow bored.”

His hands start to creep and Evelyn goes to pull away, movements playful, when Yorinobu pulls her back in. Then he starts to dip his mouth.

“Fuck no!” V yells out as she pushes the thought to enter editor mode, separating her senses from Evelyn’s before she has to feel Yorinobu’s lips on Evelyn’s neck. She looks down and sees herself, though slightly digital, her bright blue nail polish and not gold jewelry. The scene around her has paused and a digital filter over them.

“Something wrong?” T-Bug asks with a slight laugh.

“Nearly had corpo droolon me,” V signs, happy to find the tech allows her translator to work in editor mode, “was going do a watch through, then a second go in editor mode, figured two look throughs would be best...then”

“Then you nearly had to lock lips with Yorinobu Arasaka.”

“Gag, rewinding back to scan the call fully.” With a thought she watches as Evelyn and Yorinobu move in reverse, getting back to win the heir was starting the call. Once she gets where she needs to be she scans his phone and restarts it from editor mode, thankful for the sensory disconnect. She hears the man on the other end of Yorinobu’s call speak.

“Please speak with your father. He's taken a particular interest in this project, he can certainly explain the risks invol--”

“My father is a tired, visionless old greybeard who thinks nothing will change and he'll live forever in his tiny, frozen bubble!”

“I should not even be listening to such things.”

“You will listen to this - Saburo is an addled despot utterly removed from reality, stuck in some fossilized vision of a world that no longer exists! Of a world that may never have existed! We have not seen eye to eye for the last twenty years. I am quite sure we won't now.”

“Read the documentation carefully. The Relic requires specific storage conditions. You MUST provide them.”

“Noted,” Yorinobu hangs up again and V pauses the BD.

“Heard that? Relic docs gotta be around here somewhere. Look for them,” Bug confirms.

“Once we find where the chip is stored we’ll do a clean sweep of the security, okay Bug.”

“Smart thinking.”

V watches half-heartedly as Yorinobu and Evelyn interact; her range of vision and senses limited to Evelyn. She fast forwards through the two canoodling, only mildly catching Evelyn mentioning something about ‘candy’ though V assumes it’s of the nose variety. Evelyn separates away from Yorinobu for a moment and walks to a control panel, offering to lend music to the scene.

But V’s interest is piqued when she catches Evelyn rifling through Yorinobu’s messages, a few spam and scam emails. Then she pulls up an email from Clouds, a dollhouse in the city. Evelyn deletes it, V rewinds back and pauses. The email thanks Yorinobu for his patronage; hmm, heir has a taste for doll prostitutes. Something, Evelyn doesn’t want that email to be there… Its all beginning to make more sense and V’s not sure she likes it.

The merc fast forwards further through the BD, moving through to Evelyn playing awful music and going to meet Yorinobu in his bed. Where he sits with a tablet, the second the screen is clear. She pauses and scans it, bingo.

“Manual details a special temp controlled container. Relic needs to be kept real cool,” T-Bug explains through the technobabble.

“Chip’s got to be in a freezer.”

“Yep. Could damage it otherwise. OK, switch on thermal layer detection in the editor. Should be easier to spot where Yorinobu's keeping the chip.”

V switches with a thought, the world turning into temperature signatures as she searches for unnatural cold places and spots. An air conditioner pumps out cold air, but that would be a stupid place to put billion dollar tech. One malfunction and you lost it all. She rewinds back to get more of a view, a ice bucket for champagne, a fridge?

“That’s just a regular fancy fridge, not cold enough,” Bug tells her when she spends t0o long contemplating it.

V rewinds further and an amass of blue ice cold air from behind a pillar catches her eye, It seems to come up through the floor, unlike the AC, ice bucket, or fridge she has no clear idea where this one is coming from. A secret container in the floor? Seems like a much craftier place to hide expensive stolen tech, V scans it.

“Right, grabbed the heat sig. Matches the spec in the docs,” T-Bug tells her.

“Chip has to be here, we got it.”

“Mmhmm, time to scan security.”

V switches back to the regular mode, looking for what she needs to scan. The camera system first.

“Shit, cameras packed with newtech motion sensors, heat sig activators. IFF.”

“Can you kill it?”

“With access to their subnet, but we need the Flathead bot for that.”

They continue on, with Bug commenting on each security measure they scan. Alarm with fresh firmware, Automated turrets connected to the hotels server. Yorinobu’s pistol, loaded with the safety on. V rewinds and fast forward, searching anything else that might be an issue but comes up empty handed.

“Seems like we got everything. Looks like all their security systems are linked to the hotel subnet. We need the Flathead. No other way to shut down these systems,” T-Bug sumises.

“No way around it ourselves?”

“Nope. Least I'm fresh out of ideas. Think we got everything we need.”

“Okay, but hang on the line with me after we get out of the BD, need you to look over something for me, if you don’t mind.”

“No problem.”

V exists out of the brain dance, a flash of white and the world returns. Judy and Evelyn looking at her from across a desk, T-Bug still in the call panel of her mask. Her eyes hurt, her throat feels dry, and she can feel a migraine pushing at her temples. She fucking hates brain dances.

“Get everything you need?” Judy asks, a dark raised eyebrow.

“From the BD, yeah, got to clear something with Bug while I got her on the horn,” V gets the chip she fucked with out of her pocket and slides it into the proxy reader of her mask, “got a chip I fucked around with; decrypted and tried to rewrite the virus on it, so it will spike the people who gave it to me. But I want to make sure, I didn’t fuck up.”

“Need me to grade your work, V?”

“Kind of…”

“Oh, shit, V. You fucking over Militech?” T-Bug exclaims, a little pride in her voice as she reads over the code, thankfully her voice is only audible to V through her hearing aids.

“Mmhmm.”

“And you don’t want to sign and have your translator read it, because you don’t want to risk the client knowing you’re fucking over Militech while prepping to fuck over Arasaka.”

“Mmhmm, will it work?”

“It will fry the servers of any tech it’s plugged in proper and fry the servers it’s linked to, a Militech van from the looks of it. Won’t be a dent in their bottom line, but will surely piss off some reps. That what you meant for it to do?”

“That was the plan.”

“Preem work then, but I do want to make some...edits,” T-Bug edits the chips code in front of V’s eyes, “there we go.”

“Something wrong with it?” Nerves creep up V’s throat, if she fucked up, she’d rather learn her lesson now.

“Nah, I added a bit of a personal touch for you, nothing wrong with a little style added to your hacking.”

“Appreciate the help.”

“You know I won’t always be here to check your work.”

“I know, I know, but it doesn't mean I won’t take advantage while I can. Thanks again, talk soon.”

“Later, V.” With that V hangs up the call and slots the spiked credchip back into its respective pocket. Judgement, suspicion, and resentment are radiating off of Judy.

“I'll wipe the cache and your data. You were never here.”

Judy stands up from the desk and V tries to decipher a few of the tattoos she sees, noticing more sea themed ones, like a dolphin and sharks. V flinches behind her mask as Judy removes the BD wreath, glad to be free of the contraption, but she could have taken it off herself.

“Thanks…” V signs, despite this, just trying to be polite despite their spat.

“Keep it,” Judy hands her the wreath, V getting a good look at the octopus tattooed on the woman’s hand, “I'll put it on Ev's tab. Portable device for handling BDs. I already uploaded your calibration settings. Not as sophisticated as what we got here, but should do the trick.”

“And it keeps you outta harm's way. Clever.”

“Speaking of harms way, know what I see looking at you,” Judy pins her hands to her hips and gives V that look again, “walking, talking corpses.”

“We needed this recording, just… relax, will you?”

“Relax! If Arasaka finds out you have it, you're dead. I'm dead! If you fuck this up and Arasaka comes knocking on my door!”

“Judy, relax, that’s… not gonna happen,” Evelyn is the one trying to soothe the editors temper again.

“Evelyn, please… no shortcuts. You go that route, city'll always win. So be careful.”

“'Course I will be. Besides, we'll talk in a bit,” Evelyn looks to V, “lets walk.”

V stashes the new BD wreath into her bag and climbs from the chair, following Evelyn out of Judy’s basement space. It’s not like V is heartless or doesn’t know anxiety; but of everyone involved, Judy has the least skin in the game. V can’t spend her time coddling someone who doesn’t have a whole hell of a lot to worry about compared to her, Jackie, or Bug.

“Well? What do you think?” Evelyn asks and V can see that hint of nerves coming back.

“You’re not worried about this coming back on you, if they start looking through everyone he’s been dealing with?”

“They'll have a long list, then. Packed full of big names. Much bigger than mine. You tell me who they check first. Corpo hotshots and cutthroats? Or a little bedroom plaything like me?”

“Well, then... “ V tries to find her words, this all seems, too good, “intel on the heir, on the place, know roughly where the chip is, and how we should get to it… Seems like a perfect plan and job.”

“Mm. Thanks. Now the punch line, please.”

“Seems too good to be true, there’s got to be a catch…”

“Cold feet? Are you looking to get out of it?”

“I want to know you’re in control here; that there’s no secrets, no catches, no surprises that turns this heist from a cakewalk into a bloodbath.”

“V. I have zero reasons to haze you. We’re in this together. Really. Trust me that I got this.”

“Okay, if you say so, what next?”

“V….” there’s nothing good in the way Evelyn pauses, words stuck to her tongue for a moment, “Do this job for me. I mean me alone. No splitting the payout with anyone else. No middlemen. No Dex.”

Of course, of fucking course, there had to be something. Evelyn’s trying to play cutthroat corpo, fucking over a fixer because she has dollar signs in her eyes. But, she’s too damn naïve to the game to know that no merc with the lead in their gun would pull that shit. Greedy mercs who screw over their fixers end up broke on the street at best and swimming with cement shoes at worst. And a high profile one like Dex has the means to destroy her.

“Fucking knew there was a catch, you want to fuck over our fixer.”

“Dex is a middleman. And a useless one at this point.”

“You don't fuck with fixers. That's the one rule every merc in this city knows - and actually follows!”

“But if we're smart…”

“There is no smart to this, a mistake like that will cost me my reputation and without that, a merc is fucking nothing in this city. Are you serious about this?”

“Better ask yourself that question. Do you want to spend the rest of your days blasting scavs? Or become a legend overnight? Your choice.”

“He would put me in the ground, if I pulled some gonk shit like that.”

“I could give you fifty percent, V, . Eddies enough to do whatever the hell you like, without needing Dex for anything. With cred like that, you wouldn’t want for anything, you could retire.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“I thought you were a merc. I thought it was always about the money.”

“No, its not actually. He trusts me, he’s taking a leap with me. And even if he weren’t, I’m not the only person I got to worry about. Bug vouched for me too and Jackie is my partner. I fuck over my fixer, it hurts them too. I’m not going to send them down the river for a bigger cut of the pie.”

“Fine. I never asked. But V?”

“Yeah.”

“I just hope you're as good as you are naive.”

“Pff, you think I’m the naive one, here. Cute.

“If you need me, call. I'll send you my number. Now go. I need a few words with Judy.”

“Later, then.”

And with that V heads back up the stairs, tension draws tight across her shoulders. This whole damn thing with Evelyn throwing her off. The BD and everything seems clear cut, if they get the Flathead, the job might even be easy. But, wanting to fuck over their fixer. Evelyn is not the corpo or femme fatale or whatever she seems to think she is. A doll, V’s sure of that. Evelyn must have deleted the email from Clouds because its’s connected to her and the Mox offer protection to sex workers; must be where she and Yorinobu met. Clouds even has connections to Arasaka through the Tyger Claws. And she managed to become a powerful rich man’s plaything, so now she thinks she’s smart enough to fuck over not only him but Dex too.

She’s a messy client with good intel. V doesn’t want Evelyn to get hurt. The older woman is in over her head and doesn’t know how the merc world works. She doesn’t deserve to get hurt for that, the last thing V wants is for Dex to lose his cool and hurt the woman. But, V also owes it to him to let him know Evelyn put that deal on the table. If she doesn’t, what’s to say Evelyn won’t pull this on another fixer? Or Dex gets another job aligned with her and the next merc she offers this to isn’t so loyal? She has to tell him.

V fumbles with her holo as she walks back through the club, doing some quick research on Konpeki Plaza. Finding their policy on guns. Given the stealth nature of this mission, she can assume the only way they’re getting in is to find a way to get in like regular patrons. Which means they’d be scanned for guns as soon as they get through the door. If something goes south, she doesn’t want her and Jackie left unarmed with a hoard of Arasaka soldiers on their ass.

But they can’t confiscate cyberware.

Might be time to cash in her savings for something. Her holo buzzes in her hand as Dex calls; her stomach drops. Unsure for a moment what to say to him, if she should go ahead and tell him what Evelyn tried to pull. Would he lose his temper? Drop the entire damn heist? Would he hurt her for it? It weighs on her shoulders as she pushes through a blue beaded curtain, considering her options with a finger hovering over the phone.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand #silverv #(slowburn eventual)#evelyn parker #judy alvarez #aidan becker #aidan v becker #female v

10 notes · View notes

gloriainalbis · 4 years ago

Text

Strangers

Part 1 - Losers (S1E1)

Nathan Young x Reader Words: 4.4k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, drugs Songs: Strangers - The Kinks Bad Reputation - Joan Jett

“So you've been where I've just come From the land that brings losers on”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Ao3

As bad days go, you’re having a pretty horrible one when you arrive at the Wertham Community Center. It’s the first of many to come, part of the court-mandated service that goes along with your ASBO. Your dad keeps telling you that you’re lucky the judge had been so lenient and should be grateful that he’s allowing you to stay with him and your stepmum again– even though you have no one to stay with and nowhere else to go. And he’s your dad. “In the future,” you tell him while getting out of the car, “I think I’ll walk.”

Striding through the frosted glass of the front doors, you continue on to the locker rooms to change into the orange jumpsuits you find waiting for you. You choose a locker on the far wall and dump your stuff there. You decide to leave your t-shirt on underneath, zipping the suit up most, but not all, of the way. Finished, you lean back to take a look at your designated companions for the 200 hours to be dispersed across the next few months. One girl has chosen her locker to be in front of the mirror. Her hair is short, curly, and pinned back on the side to form some cute bangs-like fringe. You notice an ankle monitor adorning her lower leg as she strips down to a pink lace pushup bra and panties and steps into her jumpsuit, rolling up the sleeves and bottom cuffs and adding a gold belt around her waist to complete the ensemble. The color of her earrings and bangle bracelets– both large, round, pink, and plastic– match her underwear. She steps back to take a look at herself and smiles. Another girl brushes her hair back into a high and tight ponytail. She looks curvier than the first girl, but just as confident, pairing smoky black eye makeup with shiny, pale pink lip gloss and gold hoop earrings. The guy who’d taken a locker near yours fishes a cigarette out of his pocket and sticks it between his lips. He looks equal parts cute and odd, tall and lanky with a mop unruly, curly hair framing his face. He wears a red and black checkered shirt and an air of swaggering cockiness radiates from him with a pungency usually reserved for uncommonly offensive odors. He smirks at you slyly. The guy with the locker across from the two girls looks vaguely familiar to you. He has two gold chains, one with a cross, and a grey tank top. His jumpsuit is only zipped up halfway, with the arms tied around his waist. He looks remarkably fit, and, not having much of an affinity for sports, you wonder where you recognize him from. The last person you see in the locker room is shadowy and reserved. His hair is short and neatly combed and his jumpsuit is buttoned up all the way to the very last button. He holds a small, black camera phone in his hand and shifts his gaze between people nervously. As you start to file out, one last person stomps in front of you, looking you up and down as he nearly bowls you over. You grimace as he winks. The first thing you notice about him is the immaculate green flat-brimmed baseball cap. You suspect that this hat and others like it are a large part of his personality. Once you’re all together, a man introducing himself as your probation worker, Tony, leads you outside and has you line up against some railing as he gives what you believe is supposed to be a rousing speech. From left to right is Curtis, Gary, Nathan, you, Kelly, Alisha, and Simon. You would learn their names later, but for the purposes of clarity, we’ll start using them now. Tony paces before you, attempting to assume the macho, fear-inducing demeanor of a boot camp officer. “This is it,” he barks. “This is your chance to do something positive. Give something back. You can help people, you can really make a difference to people’s lives. That’s what community service is all about. There are people out there who think you’re scum. You have an opportunity to show them they’re wrong.” He has the tone of someone who has given this speech before and is just barely holding onto their faith in its underlying message. The girl to your left, Kelly, looks mildly offended at the word “scum,” as if Tony had been speaking directly to her. “Yeah, but what if they’re right?” Nathan interrupts on your right. He looks around at the rest of you, “No offense, but I’m thinking some people are just born criminals.” You smile to yourself and try to hold back a chuckle as a look of anger flashes over suspected-douchebag-Gary’s eyes and he bursts out with “Are you looking to get stabbed?” “You see my point there?” Nathan asks, turning back to Tony. A phone rings and Alisha answers with a casual “Hey,” while twirling a curl between her manicured fingers. Tony tries to continue, but he’s becoming increasingly exasperated. “Doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past-” “Doin’ my community service,” Alisha speaks to her phone. “Hey!” He tries and fails to catch her attention. “Boring as fuck,” she continues. It was getting harder not to laugh and you glance at Nathan out of the corner of your eye, amused at the part he had to play in the deterioration of Tony’s speech. “Excuse me!” He tries again. “Hello, I’m still talking here.” “What, I thought you’d finished?” She didn’t care, evidently. “You see my lips still moving, that means I’m still talking.” He tries to assert something akin to authority but clearly doesn’t realize how poorly that approach tends to work on rag-tag groups of rebellious young offenders. “Yeah, but you could have been yawning, or chewing,” Nathan points out facetiously in a drawling tone. Tony ignores him, but you are full-on laughing at this point. “End the call! Hang up!” He shouts at Alisha to no avail. “My probation worker,” she explains to the person on the other line. “You all right there, weird kid?” Nathan leans past you to point at Simon, who stood alone at the far end of your lineup. Tony fumed. “Don’t be disgusting. I’ll call you later.” She finally hangs up, looking over at Nathan, who was approaching Gary and making kissing noises at him. “I’ll rip out your throat and shit down your neck,” Gary snaps back. He looks amusingly short in comparison, you now realize. Curtis grimaces and leans away from the touchy ball of anger standing next to him. “I shouldn’t be here, man.” Kelly gapes at his arrogance as Gary starts to scuffle with Nathan, grabbing at his jumpsuit. “We need to work as a team here. Hey, that’s enough!” Tony takes a few steps forward. “Can I move to a different group? This isn’t going to work for me,” Curtis continues, even though Tony is clearly otherwise engaged. You lean back, nearly bumping into Kelly as she steps to Cutis’ indirect insults. “Um… What makes you think that you’re better than us?” “What is that accent?” Nathan comments, drawn out of his conflict by the way her “us” sounded a lot more like “oss” “Is that for real?” Curtis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “What, are you tryna’ say something or yeah?” She speaks, the latter half her sentence mostly lost due to her lack of enunciation. “Its- you- that’s just a noise! Are we supposed to be able to understand her?” Nathan exclaims. You shake your head and raise your eyebrows at their audacity and Kelly’s incoherence. She sticks her hand out and flips him off, “Do you understand that?” Things escalate again when Nathan puts an arm around a violently unwilling Gary who responds by grabbing him and preparing to punch. “Hey, pack it in!” Tony lunges forward to separate them “It’s love, man!” Nathan yells. You double over, stepping back to get out of the way. Kelly meets your gaze and smirks at the growing scene before you. Alisha laughs, a high-pitched giggle. Tony stood between them now, pulling Gary further and further away from Nathan, who assumed a boxer’s stance and put up his fists comically. “Do it man! Do it! You’re a prick, man, look at you!” Gary calls, trying to push past Tony. “What the fuck are they doin’?” You say to everyone behind you as Kelly looks between you and Alisha. Simon looks like he’d rather be elsewhere, as does Curtis, but for different reasons. Nathan had taken to punch the air, which only served to further aggravate Gary. “You’re a fuckin’ pussy, bruv! He’s takin’ the piss, come here!” Cue the intro music. -- Tony eventually diffuses the conflict between Nathan and Gary and finally leads everyone to some benches by the lake, which you are told to paint white. Paint drips everywhere, from your shoes to the concrete sidewalk, but you hardly care. How different is this from the reason you were here in the first place? You were reprimanded for painting on someone else’s property and were told to instead paint on someone else’s property to pay for it, how is that supposed to work? The only difference is that the first time had been art, and this was largely pointless. They wanted to cover up the graffiti on these benches, but the new paint job would only make future acts of vandalism easier to see. You did it anyway, though, happy to peel off with Nathan and Kelly as Curtis and Alisha and Simon and Gary pair off to the benches on either side of you. You watch as Gary leans down to pick up more paint on his brush, his hat brushing dangerously close to the fresh paint before it finally touches, leaving a stark white smear on the brim. You poke Nathan’s shoulder and point as Gary notices, ripping off his hat in horror and stomping off in a huff, kicking a bucket of paint into the lake and leaving behind a violent burst of white. “Oh, man! There’s paint on my cap, this is bullshit!” “Ooh!” Alisha whistles as he walks past. Everyone turns and stares as he struggles with a shopping cart that’s in his way, kicking it at first before trying and failing to shove it into the lake as well when it simply falls in front of him, still blocking the path. “I know you,” you hear Alisha say to Curtis, perking up due to your own curiosity. “No, you don’t,” he brushes her off. “Yes, I do,” She continues, unphased. “You’re that runner guy. You screwed up big time.” That’s it. You’d seen him years ago at your secondary school’s track meets and races, and later in the news for his accomplishments and subsequent arrest. “You noticed, yeah? Thanks for reminding me.” He grew increasingly annoyed, and it was abundantly clear. Overhearing, Nathan glances up at Kelly and tries to strike up a conversation, “So I’m guessing shoplifting?” She ignores him. “No?” He was about to speak again when she cuts him off, “Don’t act like you know me, ‘cuz you don’t.” “I’m just makin’ conversation!” He motions to you and Kelly, “This is a chance to network with other young offenders. We should be swapping tips. Brainstorming!” He looks at you to continue, but you stay silent, also curious about Kelly’s infraction. You shrug and he looks back at her. “Come on, what did you do?” “This girl called me a slag so I just got into a fight,” she admits, slapping her paintbrush to the bench in annoyance. “Was this on the Jeremy Kyle show?” He jokes. “No, it was at Argos.” “Argos?” you ask, finding the store an odd place to get into fights. “You know what you should’ve done? You should have got one of them little pens and jabbed it in her eye.” He was referring to the pens for filling out the catalog cards at Argos and you smirk at the image, but Kelly just stares at him incredulously. It’s an odd thing to say to someone you barely knew. He turns to look at you, “And you? I need to know what we’re workin’ with here.” “Ah…” You glance between Nathan and Kelly before continuing, “Graffiti, mostly, and throwing a party that bugged my neighbors, breaking the peace.” You had broken the law, technically, but it was nothing compared to punching someone and getting into a fight in the middle of Argos. He raises his eyebrows curiously, “Is there a story behind it or was it just mindless vandalism?” “It was on the wall of my apartment, my landlord saw it when he went to break up a party that my friends were throwing and he said he’d report me.” “Oh, what a wanker!” Nathan exclaims. “The worst part is I lost the apartment and now I’ve gotta live with my dad and stepmum again and it’s a living nightmare.” You don’t want to exaggerate or sound like too much of a cliche, but your stepmother is one of the meanest people you have ever encountered. You could understand it to some extent, as she has two young children and you aren’t the greatest of influences. You call these siblings stepfuck and stepcunt respectively, case in point. “Well, I can sympathize with that. But at least yours is a stepmum, they’re, like, inherently kinda hot, amirite?” You glare at him and begin to understand some of Kelly’s annoyance. He redirects, turning his attention to Simon, who is now painting his bench all alone after Gary’s outburst. “What about you, weird kid? Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you look like a panty-sniffer.” He holds his hands up beside his face, mocking a disgusting sniff of some invisible panties. “I’m not a panty-sniffer,” he responds. “I’m not a pervert.” He tries to return to painting the bench, but Nathan begins walking towards him, pretending to jack off with his paintbrush still in his hand, grunting disgustingly. You sigh and roll your eyes, glancing at Kelly. He could be funny, sure, but you were quickly learning about his tendency to take things too far. Kelly shrugs at you. “I tried to burn someone’s house down,” Simon blurts out to get Nathan to stop. Everyone who’d heard snapped to attention, as arson seems considerably more serious than vandalism or a few punches. “Fire?” Nathan laughs and walks back. Kelly looks up at him, “What did you do?” You were still curious about the fire and arson, but you let the conversation move on regardless. “Me? I was done for eatin’ some pick ‘n’ mix.” “Yeah, right,” you scoff. “Bollocks,” Kelly agrees. “What is goin’ on with this weather,” Nathan muses, distracted, as thunder rolls down from overhead and you quickly noticed the growing dark storm clouds in the sky just across the lake. Huh, odd. That hadn’t been there just a few minutes ago. “How did that happen?” you hear behind you, looking around to see Tony returning, an angry look instantly plastered to his face. He points to the overturned paint can, part of Gary’s carnage, and holds his arms up in exasperation. “I mean, you’ve been here five minutes. It’s painting benches. How’d you screw that up? You tell me, because I’ve got no idea.” From out of nowhere, a giant white ball of something smashes down on the car behind Tony, completely caving in the roof and sending the car alarm blaring. Shocked, you jump back and duck amid the various screams and cries of “What the hell was that?” and “Oh, Jesus!” Nathan’s smug grin immediately falls and transforms into fear and wonderment. Alisha shrieks, crying out in a warbling tone, “What’s goin’ on?” Tony turns around slowly in disbelief and gasps, “That’s my car!” “Oh, fuck,” you mutter under your breath. But Nathan isn’t taking it as seriously. “Classic,” he chuckles, thinking it to be some sort of prank. But then another thing falls from the sky into the lake behind you, whizzing past your heads and spraying you, Nathan, and Kelly in an onslaught of lake-water. “Okay, so I’m a little bit freaked out!” he admits. “No fucking shit!” you agree. “What is that?” Alisha asks, turning your attention to the storm Nathan had pointed out just moments ago. It had grown, somehow, turning dark and dangerous as it travels at an unnervingly fast pace towards your group. Simon holds his phone up to film the storm and its effects just as another ball crashes into the dumpster beside him, knocking over the heavy, metal container and spewing ice at him as he ducks and runs from it. More and more ice falls from the sky, huge blocks larger than your head, and you don’t want to think of what could happen if one of them hit you. “Right, let’s get everyone inside,” Tony instructs as more and more of them fall all around you. “Move! Move! Run!” You sprint back to the community center at top speed, holding your head as ice shards rain down on you, pelting and stinging your face and arms. Your heart practically beats out of your chest. One ball of ice pummels into the sidewalk in front of you, breaking a concrete tile. Another falls into a phonebooth, and the glass shatters to the ground around your feet. The storm seems to get thicker as you near the center, and your hair is plastered to your face from the mixture of sweat and water that you were drenched in. You could barely hear Tony yell “Keep going!” over the crashes and booms that fill your ears as you run for your life. Curtis reaches the door first, pulling on the handles and banging on the glass before stepping back and yelling over the din to Tony, “It’s locked! Open it!” Tony groans, “Come on…” and fumbles with the keys. You throw yourself against the wall, as far away as possible from the mega hail storm, and scream, “Just fuckin’ unlock it!” “What is happening?” Kelly shrieks as another massive ball of ice falls onto the pavement beside her. “Open the door, come on!” Nathan yells as Tony grows increasingly frustrated. “I’m finding the right key!” he bellows back “Open the door!” Curtis yells again, and Alisha agreed. “Open the fucking door!” Tony whips around in a burst of anger, “Don’t speak to me like that!” You were about to berate him for his poor priorities when a bright white burst of cold lightning cracks in front of you and sends you flying backward in a chorus of screams. Time slows as you fly through the air and the electricity transforms from a chilling shock to a burning flare, searing and snaking through you as you soar and tumble backward onto the hard pavement. You hit the ground with a sickening thud, from which groans and cries of pain follow. A few remaining snowballs hit the ground around you, but the storm appears to have passed. “I feel really weird,” you hear Kelly say. Your vision is still black, which has you worried until you realize it’s only because your eyes are still closed. You open them and sit up, rubbing the back of your head, which is still screaming in pain. “That’ll be the lightning,” Curtis says to try and explain what just happened. “We should be dead,” Simon points out. “Well, that’s comforting,” you snap back. “A little reassurance might be nice, you know,” Nathan agrees, instead directing his comment to Tony, who is sprawled before the door of the center and has just started to sit up. “‘You’re fine!’ ‘Looking good!’” he elaborates. “Wanker…” Tony groans, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Did he just call me a wanker?” Nathan asks, indignantly glancing at you and everyone else. He snaps his fingers at Tony, “Hey? Hello?” You see a quick look of anger flash across Tony’s face before he grumbles, “Is everyone alright?” “We could have died, you dick,” Alisha adds. “Are you alright?” Kelly asks tentatively as Tony shakes his head and coughs out a growl. “You’re actin’ like a freak.” He ignores her, “Maybe we should call it a day.” -- Tony finally manages to unlock the door, and you return to the locker rooms to gather your things. You feel like you should be annoyed, leaving early only means you’ll have to spend another day here, but you are too exhausted to feel anything. That was probably the closest you’d ever been to death. You can still feel your heart beating, a deep, steady drumbeat, and your lungs ache from the running and adrenaline. Beside you, Nathan closes his locker and leans against it before turning to you, “Do you think we’ll stick together now, bonded by our shared experiences?” “Dunno. I’d rather spend as little time here as possible,” you explain, closing your locker and stepping away to put on your hoodie. “Oh, you’re one of those types, are you?” Nathan smiles. “What type?” You glare at him. “The I’m-too-cool-for-this type.” “No, that’s Curtis,” you quip, knowing that he’d already left the room. “I just happen to not like community service.” Or any of these morons, all the other girls are total slags. “Hey!” Kelly snaps, swinging around to glare at you suddenly. “Oookay?” You turn away awkwardly and leave, you can’t imagine anything you’d said having offended her. Maybe she just really loves community service or something, but that is decidedly not the impression you’ve gotten from her so far. You walk out to the waiting area by the vending machines, where you find Curtis and Simon standing around in heavy silence. Nathan follows after you moments later. “Do we just go, then?” Curtis asks, clearly annoyed. “Where’s the probation worker?” “I think there’s something wrong with him,” Simon speaks up. “It’s like he was having a spasm.” “He was probably just faking it, trying to get some compensation. Cheap bastard,” Nathan scoffs. “I don’t think he was faking it,” Simon insists, looking back down at his phone. “And you know all about being… mental.” Nathan takes a few steps forward as he talks, leering at Simon and lowering his voice. Then he pretends to convulse and yells “Wanker!” You punch him in the shoulder. “Ow, what the hell was that for?” He sticks his head out at you almost comically. You stick your head out back at him. “Stop being such a prick, he might have a point.” Alisha walks in, already looking bored. “Are we waiting for something?” “Probation worker,” Curtis explains. She scrunches up her face in disgust. “I’m not hanging around for that dickhead.” She turns on her heel and leaves, which everyone else seems to take as their cue to leave as well. You can’t be bothered to be the only one waiting around, so you follow suit. Once outside, everyone pretty much goes their separate ways. Nathan, however, trots after you. “What’re you doin’?” You ask. “Thought you looked a little lonely, and, well, I’d like to recommend my own company as recompense.” He motions to himself like he’s all that, which honestly has you snorting to hold back your laughter. “You can’t be serious.” You raise your eyebrows. “Fine, I happen to live along this way, alright? I’m Nathan, by the way.” “Y/n.” You smile at him. “And I’ll have you know that to date, I haven’t had a single complaint.” He says it like you should be impressed or something. “Can’t have complaints if you haven’t been with anybody,” you joke, smirking. His jaw drops in mock surprise, “Oy! I have, too!” He keeps trying to impress upon you the depth of his sexual prowess, offering many stories as proof, all of which have you in stitches. He peels off when you were about halfway home. You say your goodbyes and wave as he walks away, grateful for the company. A few houses down from your own, though, you stop walking, contemplating what to do next. Home doesn’t seem like a particularly fun place to be right now, but it’s not like you have anywhere else to go. It’s still the early afternoon, so it would probably be only your stepmum at home, with your dad at work and your step siblings at school. It’s practically a worst-case scenario, as you doubt she would believe that they let you go early. You wish this day had gone differently. As you’re musing and trying to work up the courage to walk the thirty or so meters left to your front door, the skies begin to darken. You look up to see if a cloud had rolled in overhead, not exactly trusting the weather as of late, but as soon as you do so, it disappears and the sky goes back to normal. You think nothing of it, which is probably a poor choice on your part, but you are too burned out to care. You finally reach the front door, closing it gingerly behind you, but to no avail. “Y/n? Is that you?” You hear from the other room. “Yup.” You stand in the doorway to the kitchen, knowing you need to address this, but desperately wanting to leave. “They let us go early today.” She eyes you quizzically, “Really?” Now here’s the thing, the truth isn’t even remotely believable– There was a freak hail storm and everyone in our group got hit by lightning or something but now we’re all okay and our probation officer did too, he let us go early and then disappeared– so you have to lie. “Yeah, ‘cuz it’s the first day. They mostly showed us the ropes, got us started on something, and then let us go.” You wait, holding your breath. “Oh.” She looks disappointed. “I thought you’d be out today.” “Yeah, well I did, too,” you mumble as you walk away, not really caring whether or not she heard. “What’d you say?!” she calls after you. “Nothing!” you yell back as you walk as quickly as possible to your room. Once inside, you sigh and collapse onto your bed. You feel like a teenager again and it’s horrible, being forced to be somewhere where you’re treated like immature crap every day, living at home again, constantly having a row with your stepmum. You hope, but doubt, that the next day will be better.

#misfits #misfits tv #nathan #nathan misfits #nathan young #nathan young x reader #nathan young misfits #nathan young imagine

92 notes · View notes

adarlingwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

TWs/CWs: Mildly dubious consent, hatefucking, gunplay, Niragi being a bastard. Dead dove, do not eat.

Author’s Notes: I was debating on whether or not I should write the sm*t in detail. I'm normally opposed to writing scenes even with the mildest hints of noncon or dubcon in detail, but Yamane's experience with Niragi will serve as a point of comparison later, so I kept it. Hopefully it’s the right decision.

they say I don't get scared so easily / feel free to show me the roaches / and spiders that creep in your mattress

The pill bottle rattles as Yamane pours one in her palm.

It’s been five days since her arrival. Since then, she met other members of the militant faction, and while some of them aren’t as bloodthirsty as Niragi, Yamane still hasn't come to terms with the reality that she’s considered one of them now.

To Yamane’s surprise and secret relief, Saiko has calmed down, and introduced her to the other female militants. It seems that there are only three of them; four, if you count Yamane in.

One girl was called Hanako, who was a little shy, and she usually wears a gray bikini pair that doesn’t quite expose all of her skin. She was the one who took her to the storage room to get changed after getting treated by Sunohara.

“These bikinis suck,” Yamane complains to herself, sorting through the assortment of garments. “None of them fits my style,” Yamane picks up several bikini tops, and a long black wraparound.

Taking one of her daggers out, Yamane trims the straps off of the tops. The Beach confiscated her bag, so she had no access to her usual tools, but they let her keep the sewing kit she keeps in her skirt pocket. Hanako watches as Yamane sewed in the storage room, deft fingers altering the garment despite one of her arms being immobilized.

“What did you do before you came here?” Hanako asks, watching the needle as Yamane sews, obviously bored and using the seemingly mundane task to entertain herself.

“Made clothes,” Yamane replies, eyes flicking to the other girl as she went on with her task. She holds out the newly finished top: a black bikini top with a pentagram design on the chest.

“Cool,” the other girl comments, sitting a little closer to Yamane, who moves on to the long black skirt, tearing through the sides. She sheds her own skirt, cuts out the rings that decorated it, and uses it to secure the sides. She then trims some excess length from the wraparound.

“Hey, um, could you help me get dressed?” Yamane asks, and Hanako obliges.

When they’re done, Yamane looks at herself in the mirror. The twin buns on her head had gotten messy; she can’t really style them properly due to her injury. She wore her usual cropped hoodie on top of her new Beach garments, and Hanako helped her get her shoulder brace back on. She still couldn’t believe Sunohara had one lying around in her clinic. The Beach really does have a lot of resources to spare.

Yamane then slips on some platform beach sandals, and the two militants emerge from the storage room. Another of them is waiting outside.

“What was taking so long?!” this one asks, crossing her arms. She wore a hoodie with red and black stripes on top of her swimwear, her hair dyed brown and pulled back into a ponytail. “Whatever, Niragi’s looking for you. Come with me.”

“What does he want with me?” Yamane asks, but the girl doesn’t reply. Yamane follows her anyway. The men who brought her here had been lingering in her thoughts for quite some time, and she wanted to ask a few questions.

As they pass through a few rooms, Niragi comes into view with Saiko and they pull her into a room.

“You can go now, Akari,” he tells the woman with the striped hoodie.

They didn’t bother closing the door.

“We can finally pick up where we left off, mousy,” Niragi taunts, pushing Yamane down the bed and toying with the hem of her bikini top. He licks the dip between the two mounds on her chest, and Yamane takes a sharp inhale.

She looks at the man before her, and considers the conflicted feelings he draws out of her. He's loud, he's a bastard, and he takes what he wants without asking. He probably touched other girls without their consent too.

Yamane hated him.

On a normal day, Yamane would be disgusted with someone like him, and herself for enjoying this, but Niragi stirred something dark and primal within her, and the past few days had taken a toll on her judgment, so Yamane kissed him herself, desire and revulsion blending at the pit of her stomach.

Niragi’s eyes widen, but he smirks against Yamane’s lips, darting his tongue in her mouth and claiming her. The piercing on his tongue is an interesting feeling, and Yamane didn’t have any complaints. Yamane’s dark lipstick stains Niragi’s lips. In the background, Saiko gives them a knowing laugh.

“My, my, you want this, little mouse?”

Yamane is no longer in proper society; she didn’t have any reasons to pretend that she didn’t want this. It’s been a long time since she got laid anyway, and it certainly isn’t the first time she fucked someone she hated.

The first time was with a sleazy upperclassman in high school. It felt great, watching the chauvinist pig beg and writhe underneath her, but word got around, and his on-and-off girlfriend wasn’t happy.

“You could’ve just asked instead of grabbing me, bastard. It still doesn’t change the fact that I hate you.”

Niragi grins, and grabs her jaw to kiss her again. Yamane made herself pliable, but she swore not to show any sign of enjoyment. That’s one thing that she wouldn’t give Niragi.

Meanwhile, Niragi had moved on to her neck, trying to draw another reaction from her, but she stayed still. He spreads Yamane’s legs apart, running his tongue against her thigh, pauses, and runs it through her belly, up to her breasts. He pulls her bikini top up, and flicks his tongue against her hardening nipples, alternating between the two, the piercing cold against it. All he could get from her was a small shiver.

“So you’ve come to accept human nature. That was faster than expected, Yamane. I had the feeling that we’ll get along the moment I saw you kill that man. Left to our own devices, we humans will kill, pillage, and rape,” Niragi croons in her ear before sucking on that sensitive spot between her neck and ears. Yamane did her best to stifle a moan, and Saiko laughed at her attempt at staying in control.

“The circumstances forced me to kill, and you know it. You know nothing about me, Niragi.”

The militant withdraws from her, sees that there’s no longer any fear in her eyes, and gives her a questioning look. “Maybe the rumors on the tabloids are true, and she’s so used to doing this kind of thing that this doesn’t bother her anymore,” Niragi muses. Then, he leans back in and kisses Yamane’s neck again, his breath kissing the shell of her ear.

“That’s no fun at all.”

He motions Saiko to fetch his rifle, and Niragi points it at the dormouse’s face.

Now, the fear is back. Saiko got behind her and restrained her. Yamane thrashed and trembled as Niragi glided the barrel against her lips.

“Let’s see if there’s any truth to them. Open your mouth.”

Carefully, Yamane does as she’s told, sweat starting to form at her brow. Niragi slides the barrel in.

“Suck. Let’s see how good you are before I try you myself.”

Running her tongue against the barrel, Yamane maintains eye contact, the corners of her eyes wet. The gun is still warm. Enclosing her lips around the tip, Yamane takes a deep inhale, closes her eyes and starts to bob her head. Her lipstick was barely visible on the black metal.

“Here I thought you’ve already learned your lesson,” Niragi hisses, pushing the little dormouse’s skirt aside and shoving a hand in her underwear. His finger circled her clit, spreading her wetness, and Yamane couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled from her throat.

“The circumstances didn’t force you to kill. It just brought the killer out of you. You’ll kill to survive. That's our nature. That’s your nature,” he sneers, squeezing Yamane’s clit with his thumb and index finger, drawing a sharp cry from her. “Besides, didn’t you leave that little girl to hide alone? You probably did that because you know to yourself that she’s going to be a hindrance to your own survival. Did you?”

Yamane sobs at the bitter truth, the tears falling from her eyes.

“I knew it.”

Niragi withdraws his gun from her mouth, stands on the bed, and unzips his pants. He pulls his cock out of its confines, giving it a few strokes. His member was pierced too; a magic cross at the glans, and a column of pearls runs underneath the skin of his shaft.

“Bite me, I’ll blow your head off,” Niragi threatens, and Yamane nodded.

Niragi is right about one thing: Yamane will do anything to survive. That’s what she did all her life, after all. Her brain being constantly on survival mode did horrible things to her psyche.

Gliding the tip against the dormouse’s tongue, Niragi smirks, then uses his cock to slap her cheek. From behind, Saiko giggles, staining Yamane’s neck with her lipstick and her hand slipping through the waistband of Yamane’s skirt to toy with her. With a strong shove, Niragi pushes his cock down Yamane’s throat, and she chokes, struggling to accommodate him.

Soon, she finds a steady rhythm, and she encloses her lips around his shaft, sucking all the way to the tip and ending with a wet pop. The precum leaking from his tip glosses over her lips, and Niragi smiles before taking her mouth again.

“I think the tabloids were right. Isn’t that right, you little slut? You like sucking dick?”

Yamane opens her eyes, giving Niragi a deadly glare. In the corner of her eye, she sees a hooded figure by the doorway.

Last Boss is standing there, mouth pressed to a tight line, but his hood obscures his eyes. The party lights outside shine through the room, and for a brief moment, Yamane sees the intensity of the tattooed man’s gaze.

He is looking at the three of them with an expression that Yamane could only describe as envy.

Niragi sees that Yamane’s eyes are going somewhere else, and he turns to that direction.

“Last Boss! You want to join in? This little mouse is pretty nasty,” Niragi invites him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Executive meeting in ten minutes,” he said, and without another saying another word, he leaves.

“Dammit, and I wanted to savor this moment too. Well, you’ve heard him. Let’s get these off. I don’t have all night,” Niragi comments, pulling at her skirt. He flips her over, and gives her ass a hard smack.

“Ass in the air,” he commands, and Yamane obliges, more than happy to do what she can to end this encounter already. “Saiko, help me make the little mouse feel good.”

The tip of his cock glides through her wet folds, and he violently enters her.

Growling to suppress a cry, Yamane braced herself on Saiko’s lap. She hisses at the angle at which Niragi was penetrating her, his piercings rubbing against sensitive spots that she couldn’t reach with her own fingers. She couldn’t hold back anymore; it felt too good. Moans started to escape the dormouse’s lips as the militant continued to pound her from behind.

“You feel so damn good,” Niragi hisses, leaning over to nibble at her ear. He wraps a hand around her neck and pulls her closer to him, kissing her. The new position gave Saiko an opportunity to rub Yamane’s clit with her fingers again, then she kissed her, then Niragi, and she settled on suckling at the other woman’s breasts.

The bombardment of stimulation almost drove Yamane over the edge. Trying to imagine something else so she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her cum, Yamane tries to think of other things; Kobayashi and Nakamura’s bodies dissolving in a pool of acid; Sato’s broken neck; Last Boss slicing that delinquent boy’s neck.

Last Boss.

Somehow, thinking of him only made Yamane waver. She imagines him taking her instead, those mad eyes boring through her, piercing her. Instead of fear or disgust, she felt titillation.

Yamane came with a broken cry, white spots dancing behind her eyes.

Saiko pulls her towards her chest as she loses her energy to hold herself up, petting her ruined hair. Behind her, Niragi rubs himself off and finishes on her ass with a grunt, his warm cum shooting to her lower back. He leans forward to lick her good shoulder, then her cheek, and Yamane could feel his weight leave the bed.

“Well, that was fun, mousy. See you later.”

He gets dressed, retrieves his rifle, and leaves the room.

On the bed, Saiko continues petting Yamane’s head.

“Does he really try to take every girl that comes through this place, even if it meant raping them?” Yamane finally asks, face still buried on Saiko’s lap.

“Only the ones he wants to break.”

“Did he fuck you too?”

Saiko pauses. “Yes.”

Rolling over, Yamane looks at the taller woman in the eye. “And this just happens all the time in the Beach?”

Saiko huffs and rolls her eyes, retrieving two sticks of cigarettes and a lighter from her sleeveless olive jacket. “It’s just the way it is here. Everyone is free to do what they want, and that includes crimes. If you don’t want to be a victim of one, you have to be a perpetrator yourself. Hatter tries to keep the order, but he’s falling short. I thought you’d accept it by now.”

Yamane wanted to say, “That’s the most bullshit explanation I’ve ever heard,” but exhausted, defeated, she said, “Well, Niragi can’t break what’s already broken. I’ll continue to pretend not to feel anything, or at least try.”

“Good. That’ll get him to lay off of you. Men like Niragi get off on fear. Show that he doesn’t faze you, he’ll move on to a new target.”

With a bitter laugh, the little mouse opens her mouth, and Saiko places the cigarette between her lips, lighting it.

Yamane didn’t even smoke, but she needed that.

It turns out that Saiko is right. Niragi’s escapades went on for two more nights before he finally dropped her and moved on to a new target. But it still left Yamane sore for days.

Furrowing her brows, Yamane shakes the pill bottle and pours herself another painkiller tablet. She swallows the pills, and downs a glass of water. Stepping out of her room, she descended to the lobby. There’s going to be a game tonight, and she needed to replenish her visa.

The teams are being assigned. Yamane receives her assignment, and gulps as she feels someone’s presence behind her.

“Yamaneko. You’ll come with us,” Last Boss tells her, and Yamane nods.

He shuffles away, towards Aguni and Niragi, and Yamane follows him. Feeling awkward for thinking of him while another man took her, Yamane couldn’t look at him. But of course, he didn’t need to know that.

Sitting next to him in the backseat certainly didn’t help.

Niragi drives like a demon, making her stomach churn, while Aguni sits beside him, eyeing her through the rearview mirror.

“Tonight we’ll see what you’re made of,” the chief says. Niragi grins, while Last Boss gives her a meaningful look. “Let’s see if you’re really the wildcat Last Boss thinks you are.”

“Wow, no pressure at all,” Yamane thinks to herself, exhaling slowly, doing her best to calm her frayed nerves. Still, she felt a twisted sense of pride, looking at Last Boss from the corner of her eyes. The man barely speaks, and he’s a total enigma to Yamane; no one knows his real name, but everyone knows how dangerous he is.

“If he thinks I’m like a wildcat, then he might respect me a little more than Niragi who calls me a mouse.”

He’s staring at her again, and this time, Yamane cranes her neck to stare back.

She opens her mouth to say something, but the car comes to a screeching halt. Yamane lurches forward, while the tall man stays steady in his seat.

“Out the car,” Aguni barks, and everyone steps out. Yamane eyes the venue, and even Niragi seems to stop. It was a high school; Yamane’s alma mater to be exact.

“A high school? Man, this place brings back some bad memories,” Niragi moans, brows furrowing.

“This was my high school. Fuck this place,” Yamane mumbles, putting one hand on her hip.

“No time for nostalgia, we have a game to play,” Aguni scolds them while Last Boss follows him close by. “Are you two coming or not?”

Looking at each other, Niragi and Yamane start following their chief again. The four militants pass through the laser grid, and proceed deeper into the school complex, where the directions are leading them to the field at the back of the school. While passing through the halls, Yamane sees a pile of old desks in an unused room. Among them was her old one, vandalized with words such as “Kill yourself” and “Slut”.

Turning away, Yamane focuses her attention to the game.

Each of them grab a phone from the foldable table at the far end of the field, waiting for registration to close. There are explosive collars and weapons on a separate table, with instructions to wear one collar, and take an optional weapon. There are also instructions that prohibit firearms, which made Niragi groan and put his rifle down. Aguni deposits his pistol as well.

Slipping the explosive collar around her neck, Yamane watches as her fellow militants do the same. Niragi picks up a knife, and so does Aguni, while Last Boss sticks to his katana, and Yamane checks her daggers.

This will either be a Spade game, or another Club. Yamane scans the horizon, the green grass of the field overgrown from the lack of maintenance. She looks at the number of people around, and there are more than fifteen of them in the field. The worst case scenario she can think of is a battle-royale type of game where the last one standing wins. She has no chance against Aguni, Niragi, or Last Boss. But the explosive collar didn’t make sense. The lasers could easily shoot them down if they try to leave the arena, so an explosive collar wouldn’t be necessary.

The synthetic voice chirps from their phones as the last person picks up theirs.

“Registration closed. There are currently twenty players. Difficulty: Four of Spades.”

Yamane’s eyebrows furrow as her suspicions are confirmed.

“Game: Kibasen. Rules: Players must form a group of four, with three acting as the horse, and one as a spear. If the spear is taken out, the entire group is disqualified. Clear condition: Players must eliminate the rival team. Time limit: none.”

“Cavalry battle? I’m surprised that this isn’t classified as a Clubs game.” Yamane comments. “But there are no headbands or caps around. Don’t tell me…”

“The headband is likely the spear’s head,” Aguni grunts. “Wildcat. Be the spear.”

Yamane’s heart starts to race. She can’t do this, not with her injured shoulder. She’ll put the entire team at risk. “You heard Aguni,” Niragi barks, looming over her. “Get on top.”

“Wait a minute. Chief, I think Last Boss should be the spear,” Yamane interrupts, making all three look at her.

“Are you chickening out, little mouse?” Niragi asks her, tilting his head.

“Look at me,” she says, holding her good arm out. “My arm span is short. My daggers are too short. Last Boss is our tallest man. His limbs are longer than mine, and his katana has good range. He can strike farther than I could. Putting him on top would result in a longer, deadlier spear.”

A ponderous look on his face, Niragi turns to Aguni. Yamane’s eyes flick towards Last Boss, who was smiling at her.

“Chief, what do you think?” Niragi asks.

“Last Boss, you’re the spear,” Aguni grunts. “I’ll be the one in front. Niragi, Yamane, take the sides.”

Sighing in relief, Yamane takes her position at her right, which shields her injured left shoulder. “You’re lucky, little mouse,” Niragi whispers, bumping shoulders with her as they ducked, and Last Boss climbs over them.

His cold hand presses against Yamane’s head. “Yamaneko, thank you,” Last Boss tells her, lips curling into a smile. On top of her, he reminded her of a tiger once more, predatory, ready to strike.

She still couldn’t figure him out.

Around them, strangers are forming reluctant alliances, warily eyeing other teams. Soon, all five teams are lined up.

“Wait, are we supposed to fight each other? Where is this rival team?”

As if on cue, a rumble starts from a distance, growing louder, and the synthetic voice booms through the outdoor speakers. “Game Start!”

Through the same entrance they used, teams of masked men ran through, their spears carrying naginatas.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Niragi quips, tongue flicking out of his mouth. The other units of players unaffiliated from the Beach start to run and scream, while Aguni commands them to charge forward.

One unit from the enemy team charges at a friendly team, and lops the spear’s head off. His teammates’ explosive collars go off.

Then, they come face to face with the militants’ unit.

Yamane blows away a stray lock of hair from her face. “Shit. Here we go.”

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #fanfic: dormouse #oc: minami yamane #last boss #takatora samura #suguru niragi #morizono aguni #fanfiction #character study #suguru niragi x oc

21 notes · View notes

forevercaroline · 4 years ago

Text

Forbes chapter 1

This is a spin off of beautiful dirty rich another fic I have. I didn’t expect this first chapter to be so long but it is this is also an au. Tagging @misssophiachase, @caritobear, @crazychicke, @bearolle24, @infernal-panda, @walter-boswell428 , @karinanic, @austennerdita2533

Xxx

The forbes are the cousins of the Salvatore family one of the richest families in the world the mother’s side of the family. Where as they live in New York City the forbes reside in Bel Air California. They live in a beautiful fairy tale like gated estate with views of the Pacific Ocean and downtown Los Angeles.

Lexi Forbes wakes up in her big bedroom with white walls, a purple egg shaped chair in corner that has pillows on it, sun shining through her window above the window seat she has blankets and pillows on. After a shower in her en-suite bathroom she sits down at her vanity table and after she’s finished doing her hair which she has her long blonde hair wavy and flowing down her back and makeup which she keeps simple. She picks out a pair of teal skinny jeans a white tank top and a grey sweater with tan knee high stiletto boots and a white and tan purse. She has matched it with tan sunglasses and her rose gold diamond choker her mom gave her and a couple rings.

As she enters the breakfast room which is smaller then the dinning room. The breakfast room has double doors to go out to the front lawns. The quaint room is yellow, with flowers painted on the walls and fresh flowers in a vase on the table. Her mother designed their many homes.

She kisses her father on the cheek as she sits down next to him, Sabine a member of their staff at the mansion brings her a bowl of raspberries, strawberries and watermelon. “What are you doing today dad?”

Peter Hale Forbes has sharp cheek bones that would cut glass, his short but volumed brown hair is always styled. He always looks incredible and wears a lot of v necks. Today he has on a grey v neck and a pair of fitted jeans. Their wealth comes from his hotel’s but also the Forbes family comes from old money making 19 year old Lexi an heiress. “I’m going to check in on the hotels.”

As Lexi is bringing the last piece of fruit in the bowl a piece of watermelon to her mouth she asks, “Is your friend coming over today?”

Peter raises an eyebrow how does Lexi know about her he’s been so careful only bringing her around while Lexi was at school or out for a extended amount of time. He looks away from his breakfast of fruit; watermelon, blueberries, peaches and mango’s. “What friend are you referring too?”

Lexi pulls a orange cheetah print bra out of her purse. “The friend this belongs too, I know its not mine. The only other teenage girl here is Greta but since she’s in high school and works for us I doubt she’s helping her mom clean the mansion in cheetah print lingerie, nor any of the staff.”

Peter grabs the bra out of his daughters hand and puts it on the other side of him on the table. “Where did you find this?”

“Outside your suite couldn’t even wait till you got inside the first set of double doors. I didn’t find it Aiden did. He found it the day before we left for New York City and there was no time to bring it up then and when we got back they came with so now is the perfect time. That day I needed to finish packing and Aiden and Ethan came up with me, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye and it was that.”

Peter closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands. He knew he had to have this conversation with her eventually but he didn’t think it would be this soon. “I miss your mom everyday, But I have to learn to move on. I have been seeing a women named Alexis she beautiful, eclectic, fun I enjoy her. “

“Dad mom’s been dead for almost five years I miss her too I don’t think mom would be mad at you for moving on. I’m glad you have someone.”

As Lexi gets up Peter adds. “I forgot to mention Alexis is a escort, I don’t pay her for her time it’s not like that. There is actual feeling on both sides.”

Lexi closes her eyes and bites her lip. She knew there was a woman but she never thought there was actual feelings which she knows is wrong of her. She remembers when her grandmother Cece’s new boyfriend who is only 11 years older then her showed up a couple weeks ago and Cece introduced everyone to him that took awhile to get over, some of the grandchildren are still not over it. “I hope to meet her one day.” She leaves a kiss on her dads cheek. “I’m going to school see you later.”

Xxx

Before Lexi can leave she has to go get her two best friends identical twins Aiden and Ethan who live in their guest house but Lexi knows they like to take a morning swim.

So coming into the backyard from the kitchen she goes down the stairs off the Balcony. There is a little sitting area at the top of a slope which has long steps and water cascading in between the two staircases at the bottom of the slope there is a fountain surrounded by statues of the four seasons in their own alcove. To the right there is a bush/pathway to the pool which has a glass bottom. The 75 foot size pool is in the middle with potted trees on the sides. A table off to the side with an umbrella and chairs surrounding it, on the other side of the pool there are lounge chairs. Behind the pool is the pool house/dome.

The pool house/dome is practically another house, Its three floors. Before her mom died they would have pool parties all the time. The pool house lounge level always had drunk happy party people coming in and out of it, teen and adults alike.

The first floor is a living area is simple from the plain white and brown stripes of the wallpaper to the tan furniture. Her mom always said nobody will be looking at the walls when they enter this place. The white French style windows letting in the morning light over the navy blue curved couch underneath it with the red, white and blue striped pillows. The cushions of the couch have been washed so many times the blue has faded.

On the opposite side of the room is a fully stocked circular bar. In the middle of the room there is a tan matching table and chairs that seats eight people. Off to the side there is a door to a kitchen. Opposite the kitchen there is a doorway to a full changing room with lockers, and a floor to ceiling mirror.

When you walk into the living area the smell of popcorn and chlorine fill the air popcorn from the home theater with concession stand upstairs and chlorine from the indoor pool downstairs it never bothers anyone since they are so busy doing other stuff.

Her heels echo through the enclosed spiral staircase as she descends down to the lower level and opens the glass door to come into the indoor pool/jacuzzi room. All the rooms in the lower level have glass doors except for the sauna which has a wooden almost bamboo like door.

Aiden and Ethan are identical they are both lean and muscular and are of medium stature not only do they look alike but they have the same short reddish brown haircut which the sides of their hair are shaved shorter then the top of their hair but only by inches. Ethan is slightly taller then Aiden. They are currently in the indoor pool seeing who can do more laps. They are to occupied in competing with each other that they don’t notice Lexi. The main house and the dome are the only two homes on the estate that have spiral staircases.

Lexi, Aiden and Ethan have been best friends since they were two. Their moms were friends and Lexi’s mom had invited the twins mom over one day and she brought her two year old twins and the three have been inseparable ever since.

“Get out of the pool time for school.”

Both twins say at the same time. “Aww but mom.”

All three laugh. “You know how we all laughed when Aiden found that bra and joked my dad had a hooker.

They nod as Ethan is climb himself up out of the pool and Aiden is floating on his back to the side to get out. “Well turns out not a joke my dads been seeing a hooker named Alexis but not in a sexual payment way. There’s feelings involved. I just don’t know how to feel.”

“Aww honey we’re there for you whatever you need.”

“Yeah hon you can always stay with us in the guest house.”

Lexi smiles at them they can always make her feel better. “Thanks guys.”

Xxx

Beautiful red haired insanely smart and very social 19 year old Lydia Martin is awoken by her phone ringing. As she slides a hand out from underneath the covers and cracks an eye open to read the text from her best friend Allison Argent “Where are you? You didn’t come home last night.”

She notices the time out of the corner of her eye and her eyes widen and she quickly sits up waking the guy in bed next to her.

“Oh my god is that time I have to go.”

Lydia scrambles around his bedroom looking for her clothes from last night. As she is zipping up her ankle booties she leans back and kisses the guy in bed on the lips. “Last night was fun see you later.”

The twenty four year old brunette watches as Lydia hurries out of his apartment.

Xxx

“I had an idea.”

Lexi cuts Aiden off. “Aiden I love you I really do you and Ethan are the brothers I never had but because of your idea’s the police know where we live.”

“True but hear me out.”

Lexi pulls up to a stop sign and looks to Ethan who has the apprehension look on his face too. They both turn to look at Aiden in the backseat of the hot pink lamborghini convertible Lexi got for an eighteenth birthday present before she was driving a black Ferrari. Lexi has a couple different luxury cars and all of them are different colors. “Ok Aiden what is your idea?”

“We throw a party at the end of the year one last bash before summer.”

“Way to go Aiden you finally had a good idea.” Ethan leans back and hits his brother in the leg. Which earns him Aiden sticking his tongue out at his brother and Ethan laughing.

As the stop light turns green Lexi asks. “And where would we be having this party, I doubt there are many abandoned warehouses in Bel Air and our home yes it’s gorgeous but there are not many open area’s for people to party besides the pool.”

Aiden looks up into the rear view mirror and Lexi notices him. “I know what your thinking and I doubt people would drive a little over an hour to Montecito for a party. Even if our home there would be big enough.”

“Its a black light party and the night club would be perfect for it.”

As Lexi is pulling into a her spot behind the Kappa Kappa Gamma house on sorority row at UCLA she tells them. “I’ll ask my dad for the keys no promises he said he’s going to be out today so I might have to steal them. I love that home but it doesn’t get used often which is a shame its very beautiful.”

“All your family homes are beautiful.”

“Why are we at Kappa?”

It’s to early for anyone to be coming in and out of the house. Lexi mainly lives at the Forbes estate but some nights she spends at the sorority house. She loves being a kappa and with her friends but with the good comes the bad. “I left some lip liner here and I was looking for it this morning. See you later in psych.”

Xxx

The Kappa house is styled like an old Tuscany villa. As she is coming down the hallway from the kitchen to the stairs the front door opens and Lydia quietly comes in wearing the clothes she had on yesterday a red floral mock mini dress and black heels

Both girls hear voices calling them. One from the living room and one from the stairs.

Isaac Lahey who is tall with a lean and muscular build and dirty blonde hair that is slightly curly, and large deep set blue eyes. He is sitting in the living room in kappa waiting for his friend Erica Reyes to finish getting ready so they can go to class when Lexi walks past. Isaac has only been in America for six months and since Erica introduced him to Lexi Forbes he has thought she was so beautiful.

“Lexi hi.”

Lexi turns towards the living room and smiles at him, “Isaac are you waiting for Erica? I have to go upstairs anyway I’ll see what’s taking so long.”

Allison Argent and Malia Tate has come down the stairs and noticed Lydia just coming home. “Lydia spill, your still wearing the same clothes from last night.”

“Lydia Martin smartest women in the house is doing the walk of shame I’m so proud of you.”

Lexi puts arm around lydia’s shoulders as Lydia tells her friends. “It’s not a walk of shame and if you must know I maybe seeing someone. That is all the information I’m giving now I have to change I have class in fifteen minutes.”

Lexi opens her door to see her roommate Erica Reyes who is tall, lean and beautiful with light blonde hair and large brown eyes putting on her signature cheetah print pumps. “Isaac is downstairs, is it just me or did he get hotter?”

Erica flips her light blonde hair out from underneath her black leather jacket. ‘It’s just you, maybe you should ask him out?”

Lexi looks at her through the mirror as she puts on her pink lip liner. “Maybe I will.”

Xxx

Later that morning Lexi sits between Aiden and Ethan in psychology. “I’m going to go back to the estate for lunch and see if my dads there and get the keys to the Montecito home.”

Lydia walks past them to her seat with Allison and Malia next to her Aiden leans forward and calls out to them. “Hi Lydia.”

Lydia looks back at them and raises an eyebrow. “The answer is still no.”

Lexi and Ethan laugh. Ever since Aiden met Lydia he has asked her out multiple times and every time she has rejected him. “What is that now 112?”

“No I think it’s closer to 174. We should of kept a tally.”

Aiden glares back at his best friend and twin brother. Erica walks past them and Lexi leans over and whispers in Aiden’s ear. “Since Lydia is never going to say yes, she came into Kappa this morning doing a walk of shame. Rumor has it she is having a fling with one of the campus security guards Jordan Parrish. Maybe ask Erica out you know she’s been a little down since Stiles left for Quantico.”

He raises an eyebrow as he looks at Erica laugh at something Boyd said.

A couple minutes into class the professor has not shown up, “ If the professor doesn’t show up we’re leaving.”

Ethan leans over to his brother. “If he doesn’t show up want to go for coffee.”

Aiden nods and they both look at Lexi.“Someone rushed us out of the house this morning before we could grab anything for breakfast.”

“Not my fault you decided to go for competition rounds this morning instead of your usual fifty.”

As everyone is getting up to leave a handsome guy in tan pants, and a long white sleeve shirt comes in. “I’m your new professor, your last professor has had a mental breakdown so I will be taking over my name is Derek Hale.”

Allison leans over to Lydia. “He’s cute.”

Lydia shrugs her shoulders.

Ethan leans over to Lexi, “He is cute.”

“I think his mom is my business professor. Plus don’t you think your hands full with Jackson and Danny.”

He runs a finger down her nose. “Don’t be jealous.”

She scrunches up her face at him.

Jackson who is sitting next to Danny a couple rows in front of them looks behind him and spots Ethan they share a smile.

Xxx

Lexi pulls her car into the car gallery she notices all her father’s cars are here so he hasn’t left yet. Off of the car gallery is the temperature controlled wine room and an elevator. The elevator takes her up to the bedrooms level of the mansion which is the second floor. Her dad has the biggest bedroom on the floor. On a daily basis only two of the eleven bedrooms get used.

Peter Forbes’ bedroom has two sets of double doors, the first set opens up to a little hallway with a private elevator that almost never gets used, and extra shelving. The second set of doors opens up into the bedroom across from double doors are three sets of double doors to go out to a balcony. The amount of natural light coming into the room makes the black silk sheets shine. Across from the bed is a marble two sided fireplace and tv. On each side of the marble is a black bench.

As Lexi’s perfectly painted purple sparkly nails wrap around the first set of door knobs her phone rings with one hand she reaches in her back pocket and grabs her phone while turning the knob. It’s a text from Isaac. ‘My next class is not for another two hours I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch or coffee.’

‘I’m not on campus right now but will be back soon I’d love to do lunch or coffee. I’ll text you when I get back.’

She is focused on her phone when she opens the second set of doors and walks into her fathers room. “Hey dad. The keys to the-“ Lexi finishes her text and puts her phone back in her pocket. “Oh my god.”

The black silk sheets are all messed up because her father is on top of a brunette very pretty woman who she assumes is Alexis and thrusting into her.

Lexi looks up to the ceiling. “Put some clothes on. I have a simple question, I’ll just wait downstairs.” As she is walking backwards she announces. “Nice to meet you Alexis.”

“Door.” As Peter is rolling off her and pulling the sheet over both of them.

Lexi nods but to late she hits the side with her back. “I’m ok.”

Xxx

Peter scrambles out of his bed and grabs his jeans. He finds his daughter in her room throwing clothes in a bag. “What are doing?”

“I can’t sleep here tonight, I also can’t get the image of you thrusting into that woman out of my head.”

“Her name is Alexis, and when I told you about her this morning you didn’t seem to have any problems and you were nice just now to her.”

Lexi turns back to her father who never did grab a shirt so he’s in fitted blue jeans and nothing else. “I was faking it. I had other things on my mind when you told me. Thankfully my business class is in the morning because there is no way I would of focused on that test after this. I’m tempted to skip my afternoon class I’m so traumatized but I have a coffee date and I drove Ethan and Aiden so I can’t.”

Peter rubs his forehead this family can be so dramatic. The whole family the whole Forbes/Salvatore family is one big rich dramatic family. “This is not how I wanted this to go. Also where are you going to sleep?”

“I’ll sleep at the sorority house or the guest house. What do you mean you never wanted it to go this way. How did you want this to go?”

Peter is leaning against the wall just inside her bedroom with his arms crossed and his toned physic on display. “Eventually I wanted to invite her over and have you two meet. Did you only have morning classes?’

Lexi is still in her big walk in closet where her clothes are sorted into sections of party clothes, tops, pants/skirts/shorts, dresses, sweaters/jackets. The back wall is just one big shoe rack with heels, wedges, boots. All her jewelry is in the glass top island in the middle of the closet. Her belts are hung up on each side of the shoe wall.

“No my next class is not till 1:30 I need the keys to the Montecito home we were thinking of throwing a end of the year beginning of the summer party.”

“We meaning Aiden?”

Lexi nods, “We meaning Aiden had the idea but after telling us Ethan and I thought it was a good idea. A black light party in the night club would be perfect. Think about it live band on the polo field black light party in the nightclub. Plus the home does not get used enough to this party would really show the home some love.”

“I don’t like that this was Aiden’s idea, let’s hope this does not end with the Montecito police being called. The keys are in my office. What is it about Alexis you do not like.”

She turns back to her dad she can’t believe this question she barely knows the woman. “Other then the fact that I hardly know her and then see her getting rammed by my dad. She looks a couple years older then me and our names are similar.”

“She’s twenty six almost twenty seven I didn’t even realize the name thing.”

Lexi picks up her bag and as she is leaving she notes. “Why is this a theme in this family Cece cougar is with Chris who is thirty, you and Alexis who twenty six and a half, and Uncle Sawyer who has had sex with a hooker too.... Maybe the same one.”

Lexi gets halfway down the stairs when Peter calls after her. “We are not done with this get back here.”

The blonde turns around on the white with black and brown fabric spiral staircase. Her father is coming down to meet her. The light is shining on them through the three windows on the side of the stairs and there is a chandelier hanging from the cathedral high ceiling of the white marble grand foyer showering the grand foyer in natural light.

“I’m not a cougar like Cece, Alexis and I there is a relationship there. You know not to bring up Uncle Sawyer. Plus for us to have the same woman he would have to stay in the same place for more then a few days.”

“He’s been in Europe for a while, can you blame him for not wanting to come to America his money was withheld from him and he was in that plane crash. Are you forgetting Alexis is a hooker she sleeps with men for money and makes them feel good about themselves while she does. I do not want you to get hurt when you realize this.”

While the two forbes are on the stairs having this conversation their staff is busing around the estate some are cleaning, some are making food but nobody wants to go into the foyer.

Peter puts a hand on his daughters upper arm it’s just been the two of them for almost five years. No matter how old Lexi is she is always going to care and want to protect her dads feelings. His wife and her mom’s death hit them both hard.

“She’s an escort she is not just playing me. I know what I’m doing.”

Lexi nods. “Why couldn’t you decide to sleep with the sorority house mom Melissa or anyone else.”

Peter laughs “You know us forbes we don’t fall for the boy or girl next door.”

“True Aunt Liz is dating a drug kingpin.”

“That wedding when it happens will be interesting.”

XXX

Erica, Lydia, Allison and Malia are walking Greek row back to the house when they see campus patrol officer Jordan Parrish, young twenty four brunette Parrish. “Good after noon ladies. Miss Martin I found this on the ground and was wondering if it was yours?”

Parrish holds out a gold bracelet that Lydia was wearing last night as she takes it they share a smile. Alison Erica and Malia are watching this and once Parrish walks past them all three girls look at the red head. “Oh my god you and Jordan Parrish.”

“ Scandalous.”

“He’s hot.”

Lydia puts a finger up to her lips “Will you please keep it down.” They are passing Kappa Kappa Theta who tries to compete with Kappa Kappa Gamma. They do not need the president of Theta Hayden Romeo knowing this piece of gossip to use against Lydia and Gamma.

Once they get past Theta Lydia keeping her voice down tells her friends “Yes I’ve been seeing Jordan Parrish. “

All three girls get a text from their house mother Melissa McCall. “House meeting 3’o’clock.”

Kira is in Japanese history when her phone vibrates.

Xxx

Peter runs a hand through his hair before he returns to his bedroom expecting to find Alexis waiting for him in bed but the bed is empty, he glances in his big walk in closet his side is full of clothes his wife’s side is empty. A year after her death Lexi and him mustered up the courage to clean out her side of the closet they sold of the clothes but kept most of it and is now in storage.

He finds Alexis in his big en-suite bathroom she is in his bathtub which is full of bubbles. He bends down next to her. “I’m sorry about that earlier.”

She smiles at him and cups his chin with her hand which is dripping water on the floor. “Usually it’s the wife that walks in this is the first time a daughter has walked in on me.”

“How would you like to meet her?”

Her eyes widen and she drops all flirtation. “Excuse me she just walked in on us and you want the three of us to have a sit down dinner family style.”

Peter lets out a sigh and reaches out to push back a piece of her brunette hair behind her ear. “Of course not but maybe a actual meeting where nobody is caught having sex.”

Alexis puts her hand on her chin on the side of the porcelain tub. “She is not going to accept me. I doubt she will even take me serious I’m an escort who is dating her father.”

Xxx

While driving back to campus Lexi is tapping her finger against the stirring wheel, her phone rings but she’s busy driving so she doesn’t answer. When she gets back to Campus and meets Isaac at one of the coffee carts and after they get their coffee’s they both get French vanilla Frappuccino’s.

They sit down and while Isaac is talking about how he loves California he misses London Lexi is tapping her finger against the cup. “Are you ok?”

His voice pulls her out the trance she was in while he was talking she didn’t mean for it to happen. “Huh... oh yeah just a lot on my mind and Ethan and Aiden have a class I can’t tell them.”

Isaac feels bad for the sad blonde in front of him he likes her and he wishes she would confine in him. “Maybe I can help.”

She smiles at him it’s sweet he is offering to help her. “ Thanks maybe another time I will take a hug if your offering.”

They stand up and Isaac wraps his arms around her and she snuggles her head into his neck and he can feel her breath of relief during their hug.

Xxx

As Peter is walking her to the door something has been bugging him since Lexi mentioned he knows she brought it up tp hurt him but he has to know. “By any chance have you ever been with a tall, attractive I guess, super annoying, egocentric, has nicknames for everyone, blonde shaggy hair, wears leather jackets or button up shirts, probably conned you out of some money guy named Sawyer?”

Alexis stops at the front door and thinks about it everyone before Peter was a one and done. Peter is the first where they come back to each other and she enjoys him. “I don’t think so why do you know a Sawyer?”

Peter smirks as he open the door but she doesn’t see. “No.”

Xxx

House meeting always take place in the living room. There is a very open living layout of the house. There is a fireplace which is not used often since California and two couches with a table between them. There are a few chairs in the room too, two in front of the windows and one on the other side of the room in the corner. Above the fireplace there a photo of everyone in the house in front of the house.Lexi and Erica are always next to each other during house meetings and usually leaning against the pillars on each side of the entrance of the living room. Allison and Lydia are sitting in the chairs in front of the windows and the other girls are filling into the room. When everyone is there house mom Melissa McCall who is a mom to all the young ladies in the house but also a trained nurse and helps out in the hospital part of the school. Her long brown curly hair is dangling over her shoulders as she addresses all the ladies.

“Friday night is movie night and our annual sisters retreat is coming up where do you girls want to go.”

“Vegas.” Malia looks down at Lydia since Malia is sitting on the arm of her chair. “We all know she wants to go to Vegas to gamble.” Lydia nods.

“Mexico.”

Melissa looks over at the two girls sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, “Not twenty one and let’s keep it in America.”

“Aspen.”

“Who knows how to ski or snowboard.”

Half of the girls raise their hands including Lexi, Erica, Allison, Lydia and Malia and her roommate Kira.

Erica leans over to Lexi and whispers. “I remember the last time we went to aspen us, the twins and your parents for winter break. We had so much fun.”

Lexi smiles at the memory then gets sad because that was their last winter with her mom. “We did have a lot of fun. My dad is thinking of selling the place since we haven’t been there in a while.”

“Aspen it is, Now does anyone have any homes in Aspen or are we staying in a hotel?”

Most of the girls look up at Lexi. Some of the girls are jealous that Lexi has so much money and can have anything she wants on the outside looking in her life looks perfect little do they know her life is more dramatic then perfect. Her life may not be as dramatic as her cousins in New York City but she still deals with dramatic moments.

Melissa notices the young ladies look at Lexi. She’s heard their snide comments about Lexi, Melissa is privy to all the gossip in the house. As house mother Melissa is to care for these ladies and she treats them like her children. She also has a son who goes to UCLA Scott when he drops by the house sometimes the younger ladies of the house go crazy and surround him.

“Meeting dismissed. Lexi can I speak with you for a moment.”

Erica and Lexi share a look they both know what Melissa wants to ask her.

Xxx

Peter’s black Shelby 1000 Cobra pulls up outside his hotel and the valet take the keys and park it while he goes in and and makes sure everything is still running smoothly.

Xxx

Aiden and Ethan have been waiting behind Kappa for Lexi for almost fifteen minutes when she comes out. “What was going on in there and why do you have a duffel bag in the backseat?”

“House meeting were going to Aspen and guess where everyone is staying if you guessed our home you are correct.”

Ethan and Aiden share a look of worry as the doors unlock and they get in. Sure they could of got in before the doors were unlocked its a convertible and there is no hood but they are respectful of the Forbes family.

Lexi pulls up to a stoplight on sunset strip and her fingers are tapping on the steering wheel. The light turns green and she does not drive Aiden who is in the backseat looks behind them at a car and before the car can honk he waves his hand for the car to go around them. Ethan leans over and puts a hand on Lexi’s shoulder. “Are you ok hon.”

That touch of familiarity brings her out of her haze, “Huh oh right um.” She goes to put the car in park and Ethan puts a hand over hers. “I don’t know what’s wrong but before we get into an accident or someone flips us off I’m driving.”

Lexi does get to pull the car off to the side so they are not in the road. Ethan gets in the driver seat while Lexi is in the passengers seat and Aiden slides over so he’s behind the passengers seat then behind the driver seat.

Aiden slides his hands on each of the head rest and massages Lexi’s shoulders while she puts her head on the headrest and closes her eyes. Ethan takes a breath and looks in the mirror at his brother and they nod at each other. They live at the forbes estate and Lexi’s calls them the brothers she never had but they never drive the Forbes cars and this is a custom Lamborghini.

Once they are back on the road and headed to Montecito. Aiden asks “What happened to you this afternoon? You were fine when we left psychology.”

Lexi leans forward and runs a hand through her long blonde hair. “I met her when I went home to get the keys.”

“Met her as in....”

“Yes well met is not the right word saw her today.”

Ethan still keeping his eyes on the highway asks. “Saw her, saw her where?”

Lexi turns towards him and raises an eyebrow. Both twins at the same time go. “Ewww.”

“Yeah can’t get it out of my head. Forgot to mention I’m sleeping in the guest house tonight its still to fresh to step on the bedroom floor.”

“Totally get it.”

“So what is she like?”

Lexi looks back at Aiden in the rear view mirror. “Seriously.”

He shrugs and she sighs “Young she’s twenty six and a half brunette hair and has long dangling feather earrings and tattoos I couldn’t see what tattoos I was busy averting my eyes from the image of my dad thrusting into her.”

Xxx

Once they are through the gate and up the long driveway leading to the courtyard of the house. Since they are not going to be here long they just park outside the home not in the garage.

As they enter the octagon shaped grand foyer with natural lighting streaming in from a skylight, glass chandelier hanging down from the ceiling. A pink couch against the wall below a painting opposite the front doors are there are stairs going into the main house. “I love being in a sorority, but with the exception of Erica, Lydia Allison, Malia and Kira everyone thinks I’m made of money and I can just throw money at every situation. News flash people just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I have to spent it on you and stop expecting me too, plus stop expecting me to give up our homes as a place for you to use. Our home in Aspen we might be putting up for sale so we might not have it anymore but everyone just expects me to give up our home to host retreats. So they can brag we have a Forbes in our sorority. I just wished they wanted me as a person and not as Forbes.”

Both Ethan and Aiden put an arm around her shoulders. “We love you as you not because your a Forbes.”

They go through the mansion and where other homes have basements this home has a nightclub, wine tasting room, wellness center, sports bar and movie theater. The nightclub has a dj booth, six area’s for seating including white chairs, sofa and tables. On the far side there are doors to go out to the pool but with the black shades down it darkens the room to make it have more of the club vibe.

While Aiden is looking around the room planning the party in his head Ethan and Lexi flop onto one of the white fluffy love seats. Lexi has her head back and her eyes closed. “You need a massage after the afternoon you’ve had.”

“The masseuse is not here.”

Ethan smiles as he stands and grabs her hands to pull her up. “You go to the wellness center and I’ll call her or him then we’ll leave, it will give you time to get a massage, Aiden enough time to check this area out and I’ll be in the find something to do. Maybe catch a movie.”

“You love living vicariously through my heiress life.”

Ethan goes to open his mouth but Aiden who is at the clear dj booth which when on changes colors answers. “Yeah but don’t lie you love your heiress life.”

Lexi shrugs her shoulders “Your right I do its a hard life but someone has to live it.”

They laugh as Ethan slides his arm through Lexi’s linking their arms by the elbow. “Now my dear you are coming with me and Aiden is calling a masseuse.”

At the end of hallway there is three steps then a door and inside the door is the wellness center. A little waiting room with chairs, and a water jug and a little fridge with cucumbers and lemons to make cucumber and lemon water. There is a little changing room with robes, next to the massage room with two massage tables always ready.

As they are waiting for the masseuse Lexi and Ethan are just sitting on the table’s Lexi has a robe on ready to go when the masseuse gets here.

“By summer I’m going to choose between Jackson and Danny. I know I can not keep stringing them along.”

“I choose Jackson only because yes you and Danny are cute together he’s a hot guy from Nebraska he doesn’t understand the luxury of our lives, I think he’s only seen the guest house but was still surprised by it. Meanwhile Jackson is from Malibu he understands our lifestyles better. Plus while you and Danny are adorable you and Jackson are hot.”

The doorbell echo’s through the empty long halls of the mansion.Lexi slides off the table to get it but Ethan stops her “I’ll get it.”

Ethan opens the door to a cute tall man with light blonde hair, hazel eyes and stubble on his chin and mustache. “Cute you’ll do, let me show you to the massage room.”

When they enter Ethan hops back on the other table while Lexi is laying on her stomach and leans up to look at the masseur.”mmmh.”

While he is getting everything ready Ethan and Lexi are continuing their conversation like there was no interruptions. “So I can either be adorable or hot?”

“What is Aiden’s thought?”

”Jackson.”

The masseur slides his hands down Lexi’s bare back and up her shoulders. “Your shoulders have new stress.”

“Very new.”

“I’m going to text Melissa instead of going to Aspen in march why not come here for the retreat this home has everything.”

The masseur hands move from the knots in her shoulders to her lower back and Ethan agrees. “Good idea, since your selling the Aspen house that home could be gone by march.”

“Considering where it is and how much it is I doubt someone will snatch it up quickly plus its not even on market yet.”

Ethan stands up and bends down to be face to face with her “Have fun I’m going to the theater.”

“This is a beautiful home you have here Miss-“

Lexi even though her head is through the hole on the table she smiles all she can see is his black jeans and black shoes. “Forbes, Lexi Forbes you can just call me Lexi if you want.”

“Oliver.” He moves his hands from her back to her leg and runs them down her legs massaging the tissue.

Lexi loves to get a massage it’s more then just a spa day activity for her, it’s a relaxation thing where her life is so hectic people always around but when she gets a massage it’s just her and the masseur or masseuse.

“You really do have a beautiful home Lexi.”

“Thank you its one of my favorites.”

Oliver has made her flip and has gone back to the shoulders. “Was that your boyfriend that let me in.”

Lexi lets out a little laugh. “No that is one of my best friends his twin is around here somewhere.”

Xxx

After her massage she walks Oliver out, “Hope to see you again.” He nods as he leaves.

After Lexi changes back into a pair of teal skinny jeans a white tank top and a grey sweater with tan knee high stiletto boots and a white and tan purse. She has matched it with tan sunglasses and her rose gold diamond choker her mom gave her and a couple rings. She finds Ethan in the soundproof movie theater. “What movie is this?”

“Couldn’t decide didn’t want to get invested only to be interrupted.”

“Ready to go home?”

Ethan puts an arm around her shoulders as they leave. “I’m driving?”

Lexi smiles she might have just created a Lamborghini monster letting Ethan drive. “I feel great after the massage my mind is clear the shock is wearing off. Oliver really knows his stuff.”

“Ohhh Oliver.”

Lexi shoves him as they enter the night club and find Aiden on one of the couches. “Shut up. Ready to go hon?”

Aiden nods as he joins his twin and best friend. “Coming here really was what was needed today.”

Xxx

Lexi pulls her car into the gallery and they take a golf cart to the guest house. The estate is so big that there are several golf carts around the estate. If they don’t want to walk or are tired they can just get on a golf cart.

Xxx

Jordan Parrish is having trouble putting his key in his door while he has one hand holding Lydia up and she has her legs around his waist and peppering his neck with kisses. After a couple more tries he does get the door open.

Lydia’s lips go from peppering his neck to attacking his lips.

Xxx

Romania:

Six foot shaggy blonde haired Sawyer Forbes he has stubble on his chin and mustache. His innocent face and his smooth talking gets him in and out of so many problems he’s got himself into over the years. He walks into the bar and spots a familiar brunette at the bar and smirks. “We just keep running into each other freckles you going to tell me your name this time.”

The brunette turns around and smirks up at him. “Hello Sawyer your place or mine.”

He downs a shot and smiles down at her. “We went to mine in London so your place here.”

She downs her shot before picking up her coat “Your place last time my place this time if this happens a third where will we go that time?”

“Depends on where we are.”

She flips her hair out from underneath her coat and looks back at him. “It’s Kate.”

He smirks and puts an arm out “Lead the way freckles.”

#Forbes #lexi branson #ethan and aiden #Lexi Forbes #peter Forbes #lydia martin #erica reyes #isaac lahey #my writing

21 notes · View notes

mistabullets · 5 years ago

Note

can i please request a scenario? 🥺 i was thinking of something like 18-21 y/o kakyoin who gets a new, attractive older neighbor and he just keeps looking for excuses to be around her? (and then m a y b e she repays him for all his help?)

ok guess i’ll heard y’all loud and clear! have your milf hunter kakyoin :3

NOTE: all characters are aged up! cw includes age gap (think 5+ years tho), fem pronouns, afab reader, alcohol mention, drinking, eating out, fingering, vaginal sex, drunk sex, praising

Not SFW under cut ;

“Good grief, why are you always trying to get with old hags?” Jotaro questioned.

When Kakyoin first laid eyes on you, his new neighbor, discussing with the landlord about the terms and agreement, he was instantly captivated by your beauty. The redhead boy was eyeing you from outside his balcony, enjoying the pleasant spring afternoon and the view you had to offer. He noticed the way you batted your lashes and how well the red lipstick suited your plump lips. The dress you had been wearing that particular day showed off the swell of your ass along with a slight cleavage, a promising view of your bigger breasts. You had certainly made his day and you didn’t even know it.

Two weeks later, Kakyoin notices you were finally moving into the empty apartment right next to his. With no lewd intentions behind his generous offer, he introduces himself as your next-door neighbor and offers to carry some of the heavier boxes, up and down the stairs. You are truly relieved since had some slight aches and pains already from preparing and packing up for your new home all by yourself. The two of you begin unloading the rental truck, which took about a good hour or two. Not that the younger man minds, since each time he trailed behind you, ascending the stairs, he has a great view of your butt. The sway of your hips is almost similar to the swing of a pendulum, spellbinding, to the point he has to control his gaze and not be caught in hypnosis.

Finally, the work is all done and boxes are settled in corners, furniture in their designated spots. You decide to order some pizza and share with Kakyoin, as thanks for all his hard work, despite just having met today. You get to know your new neighbor and friend during dinner; he’s a college student who had explored a lot as a teenager, having seen most of the world. Now, he and his best friend of four years, Jotaro, are studying at the local university; he’s currently in his junior year and halfway through in receiving a bachelor’s in Game Design. You’re impressed by his passion, saying he must be smart to be able to learn the complicated knowledge of technology and the dedicated art skill needed for video games. And Kakyoin learns a bit about you as well. Apparently, you moved because of a recent job offer, already had a degree under your belt, and you were seven years his senior. You had even been married at one point but divorced the scum over half a year ago! The younger man is surprised when he realizes you are close to hitting your thirties, believing you were at least in your early to mid-twenties. You take it as a compliment though, lucky that you have no grey hair yet to appear, despite the stress that had accumulated.

Over the next few weeks, Kakyoin helps you settle into your home. He gives you directions to wherever you need to go, helps you unpack a variety of clothes, cooking utensils, shower curtains, the bed frame, and even more furniture. The man is even kind enough to help with laundry and help set up the new computer that you had purchased recently. In return, you begin cooking meals for your young neighbor and his roommate. You have tried to offer him some money before but he always declines it, saying it was just him lending a helping hand to someone who needs it. What a sweet boy, I wish my ex would have been so kind like him, you would think to yourself.

Eventually, the two of you became close friends. You would invite him over for drinks and dinner after work. Sometimes, Jotaro would be there too, but he had no interest in hanging out with older women, always muttering “good grief” when you would burst into a fit of laughter after the redhead would tell a cheesy joke.

Tonight is a repeat of that.

You let out a snort, doubling over, “O-Oh geez, that’s a good one, Kak-kun!”

It is you, Kakyoin, and Jotaro playing a new game on the Nintendo 64. However, alcohol is in the mix, and both you and the redhead man are a bit too tipsy. Jotaro, annoyed by his friends’ antics, leaves the party of three, saying he has to get up early in the morning. Jotaro wonders if it is a good idea to depart, knowing his friend has a huge crush on you and it could lead to something messy. But he concludes, after interacting with you for the past month, there’s always a glint in your eyes when Kakyoin is around. Jotaro’s curious to see where it would eventually lead to. He utters a simple bye before telling his roommate he will leave the door unlocked if anyone needs him.

The soft click of the door closing indicates the party of three just turned into a party of two. Now, it is just you and Kakyoin now, still giggling over whatever nonsense had you howling. Once you manage to gain a semblance of composure, you tell the redhead that you want to watch a new movie you had bought recently. You toss the box at him, to see the cover. The man is intrigued after reading the back of the VHS box. After stating his interest, he slips the cassette into the player. After making some adjustments to the TV settings and pressing the button to play the movie, Kakyoin curls up right beside you on the couch. For right now, his attention is on the television screen, anticipating the horror sequences for Silence of the Lambs. But after about halfway into the movie, he notices how with each jump scare or the buildup of a scene, you would scoot yourself, as if seeking some sort of protection. Eventually, the boy, with warm drunken courage, lazily wraps one of his arms around your frame, holding you tight when the suspension broke within each scene.

As the credits rolls, you look up at your fellow movie-goer, slightly less intoxicated and realize his hand had slipped down to your waist during the course of the movie. An idea comes forth from the remainder of your inebriated and primitive mind, eyeing the young man beside you. You register, that you like Kakyoin a lot more than you originally thought. He’s mature for his age, super smart, and you bet he had some youthful vigor to him, right? With a stupid yet dazzlingly grin spreading across your delicious lips, you reach out to touch one of Kakyoin’s cheeks, rubbing it tenderly, a heated blush already radiating.

“Y-Y/N? What is it?” he asks, slight confusion in his voice. He always assumed you were into older men, or at least someone your age.

With drunken stupor, you giggle, “Oh nothing Kak, just realized how cute you are… like, really cute.”

You could feel the blush burn the palm of your hand even more, “Oh, really now?” the boy prods, his lush thoughts spiking a nerve in him, finding a renowned boldness.

“Yeah, I… I don’t know, just kind of wanna kiss you. Would that be okay?” now you are flushing as you took note of how Kakyoin’s lavender orbs scan your body and the position you are currently in. The faint scent of beer from your breath tickles his nostrils and he finally sees just how inviting your pretty lips are, even without the lipstick applied on. Your eyes long from him, even in the darkness with the faint glow of the menu screen. Without any more hesitation, he seals you in an experimental kiss. You gasp into his mouth but soon welcome the taste of fermented booze and cherry-flavored chap-stick. Soon, his tongue slips into your mouth and he tastes even more of you; it is more intoxicating than the beer the both of you shared earlier. After a minute or two of this developing make-out session, his soft lips peels away from yours; both of you need to catch your breath, to process what was going on. But you could sense both of you wanted more, by how flushed your cheeks are and the lust dancing in his pupils. You decide to make the next move, being the more experienced one, by straddling his lap. You lock lips again.

One thing leads to another. Eventually, the redhead underneath you unbuttons your blouse, throwing it into some forgotten corner of your living room. Kisses and loves bites are littered on the side of your neck, down to your left breast. Wanting more of his touch, you reach from behind and unhook the bra hook, revealing your ample tits. Kakyoin allows himself a moment to admire the softness, how bouncy they look, and how delicious your nipples look. Experimentally, he reaches for one breast while he leans in and gives the unattended nipple a lick. You grab a hold of both shoulders as Kakyoin stops being experimental and more precise with technique. What was the last time you felt this good? And god, you feel your panties are already soaked as the young man pinches your hardening buds. “O-Oh god, Kak-kun, y-yes, good boy, you’re doing such a good job~”

Encouraged, the boy slides one of his hand from your chest, slithering his warm digits against your belly until he reaches your groin and the hem of your pants. He reaches further down, slipping his hand into your jeans and feeling to lacy undergarments you are wearing. You edge him to go further, wanting to feel his thick fingers inside of you already. “Right there, Kak~” you plead, as the boy peppers kisses into your neck and shoulder. He happily fulfills your request, exploring southward, passing your trimmed bush before being invited by the welcoming slit of your wet pussy. However, Kakyoin has an even better idea. Without warning, he grabs you by the waist and gently throws you onto the couch. Now he’s on top of you, gaining control.

You elicit a gasp, slightly taken aback by his boldness, “Oh my, Kakyoin…”He pulls down your jeans along with your panties, and now you’re fully naked before the younger man as he drinks in the sight of your sexy figure. He reaches for the hem of his shirt and throws it off. You can’t help but also admire the defined muscles of his abdomen, the heave of his chest from all the excitement, and the bulge growing more prominent with each passing moment. Your focus is turned back to Kakyoin, as he opens up your legs and nestles into the apex of your thighs. “Please, Y/N, call me Noriaki,” he says before dipping his face to your sex, spreading apart your pussy to reveal your glistening pussy and your needy clit. He admires it for a moment, before his tongue curiously laps over your exposed entrance, the tip of it probing at your sensitive nub. Instinctively, you reach to grab a hand fist full of crimson locks, particularly his side bang. “Noriaki, r-right there… lick my clit again, please…!”

And after a few more licks, he finally gets the hang of it all, your voice guidance to how to properly eat out a woman. Your ex would rarely go down on you despite how often he would demand blowjobs… and when he did go down, he would complain about how you needed to look good and clean yourself up. However, Kakyoin is obsessed with the musky, feminine scent of you and drinks your juices like a man who hasn’t had water in days. While he’s not exactly experienced compared to Jotaro, his eagerness to please makes up for it. He rests one hand on your inner thigh while he decides to further tease your entrance. He index and middle finger presses up against your core and sinks in. You let out a moan, not prepared for the intrusion but once they are adjusted, buried to the hilt, you begin to welcome the sturdy digits inside of you. And Kakyoin enjoys the wet warmth swallowing up his fingers, the velvety walls of your cunt hugging him tightly. Gently, he begins to scissor and curls the two fingers inside you, until he finds that one sweet spot that makes your back arch and you release a needy cry. Making a mental note to himself, he pumps his finger in and out of you while his lips suck at your clit. You scream his name, “N-Noriaki! O-Oh fuck, if you, nngh! K-Keep that up– I-I’ll cum!”

He gasps for air, but still relentlessly finger fucking your insides, “Then please, do cum for me, Y/N!”

And keep it up he does, eyeing your body and watching with satisfaction as you squirm and buck yourself into him; you want more of his mouth on your pink pearl and more of his thick fingers inside of you. Thinking you can handle it, Noriaki adds a third finger and continues his ministrations, wanting to bring you to your first climax of the evening. The pad of his fingers hits your g-spot one more time and coil in your abdomen uncurls, washing you with a wave of pleasure and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. After your orgasm settles down and you’re down gushing out your juice, the boy underneath you gently pulls out his fingers, admiring the slick wetness before popping it into his mouth. He can’t help it, you just taste so, so sweet to him. You relish in the afterglow of your climax before remember how hard your new lover must be.

Catching him off guard, you tackle the younger man back on the bed and start to unbuckle his belt. You then proceed to unzip his pants, pulling it and his boxer (with cherries on them of course) down to his ankles. You take a moment to examine his manhood, the length being long and having a decent amount of girth to it. You think the red tip is cute, matching hair color. While it looks appetizing, you want to get to the main course. Not wasting any more time, you mount your lover and begin to tease his dick, already leaking with precum. Kakyoin takes the time to appreciate your palpable body and how it radiates your lustful intentions. Your hair is already a mess, (e/c) eyes are wanting, and your shoulders and checks a subtle shade of red. He grabs your hips and helps you as you start to align your molten core with his bold erection, now slicker with your lewd fluids. Slowly, you begin to sink down, the tip of Kakyoin’s cock already filling you up. His nails bite into your waist, leaving crescent shape scars while his dick is buried to a hilt. “G-God, (Y/N), you feel absolutely amazing around me, p-please, I want more of your pussy–”

“N-Nori– mm, god, yes, I’ll fuck you, I-I want to thank you, oh god, you’re so big–” you babble, as you begin bouncing on him, taking control and placing your hands on his chest. You lean down for another passionate kiss, riding him until exhaustion before he takes the lead. Both of you go at it for hours…

Meanwhile, Jotaro can hear all of this. The walls are very thin but at least, so it seems, that the both of you are having fun. But it’s still annoying and your lewd noises will definitely wake up the cranky neighbors. “Yare yare daze,” the black-haired man groans to himself, rummaging through his drawer until he finds his handy dandy Walkman with his headphones already attached. He slips them on and presses the play button, blocking out the sultry moans and godawful dirty talks the both of you converse in. Finally, he can study in peace. He goes back to his desk and returns to his research for his marine zoology class.

#Anonymous #kakyoin noriaki #jotaro kujo #he's just mentioned a lot #my writing #scenario #stardust crusaders #jjba #jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #not sfw #afab reader #n/s/f/w #kakyoin x reader

100 notes · View notes