#they were so disorganized for the more pressing stuff at the time which is why I switched pcps | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shokobuns · 4 years ago

Text

“𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭”

in which you slowly give into your desires.

PAIRING: maid!zenin maki x f!housewife!reader

GENRE: smut, some fluff, some angst, slowburn (ish)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: nsfw, 16+ smut, slowburn ish?, mentioned misogyny, infidelity, unhappy arranged marriage, angsty marriage, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), kitchen sex, sex in shared bed, face sitting/riding, 69, exhibitionism, squirting, light degradation, praise, pussy slapping, finger sucking, spit kink, consensual panty stealing, masturbation (f), first time for oral, slight corruption, implied dumbification, dom!maki. slight mommy kink, humiliation (kind of)

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Honey.”

You peck your husband on the lips goodbye before he’s out the door with a briefcase in hand and his suit as neat as ever. Staring at the leftovers, you sigh before eventually picking up the plates and pilling them in the sink, scrubbing off the sticky mess of maple syrup. Soap suds cover up your gloves as you lather them in bubbly water and plan out the rest of your day. The dishes, the laundry, a few episodes of that one show you barely pay attention to, lunch, more dishes, more laundry, a start on dinner.

You can’t help but wonder — Is this it?

You love your husband, something you remind yourself repeatedly when he’s gobbling down on the rice on his dinner plate and when he’s leaving his dirty clothes all over your bedroom floor. You love him. You want to bear his children, want to raise them, want to do the chores so that he doesn’t. You want to cook, to clean, to do everything for the sake of his pleasure. It’s what your mother insisted, it’s what she did, and it’s what her mother did. You love your husband.

Is this it?

Twenty years old, a husband with a stable living, something that can suffice for the rest of your life. All you need is to do your chores, give him your body, be his prim and proper wife. It sounds fairly easy, another thing that your mother insisted, so what is it?

Why do you crave more? Why do you have to remind yourself that you love him, love this life at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a tall girl with glasses. She’s in a black maid dress that stops at her knees, complemented by the white apron that flows along with the part of the skirt, ruffling at the end. She has a bag hanging on her shoulder and her expression shows slight amusement at your surprise. Surely, she’s at the wrong house, right?

“Are you (Y/N)?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, not realizing that you were staring, “Uh, w-who are you?”

“I’m Zenin Maki, but you can call me Maki,” she observes your figure, noticing the sly nervousness radiating off of your expression, “Your husband hired me. Said he wanted someone to help you out.”

“O-Oh.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” You move to the side, watching the woman scan your house. It’s slightly messy, a result of your husband not cleaning up after lounging in the living room, and she doesn’t waste time to clean it up, rearranging the decorative pillows and helping you carry the leftover dishes to the sink. Just as you’re about to put on your gloves, her hand comes out to grab your wrist and the other takes it out of your hand. “Don’t. I got this.”

You step back, watching Maki put on the gloves herself, lathering the dishes as you did before. You don’t know what to do, standing there awkwardly as she places them in the dishwasher. It’s a given opportunity to observe how her skirt stops right above her knee, flowing out naturally and modestly accentuating her body. Her headband compliments the look, her hair tied back with bangs covering up her forehead, stopping short of her glasses. Warmth creeps up your neck to your cheeks and you sharply look away, focusing your vision on the bowl of apples on the center of the dining table.

“You can rest, Miss. But I’m going to need help putting away the dishes later. Is that okay?” She asks and you turn around to give her a nod. “Is there anything else you need done?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, you really don’t need to-”

“I was hired to help you out with chores. Please, do not worry about me.”

You sigh in defeat, looking directly at her face, her pretty face. She had a sharp expression, piercing eyes that can bore into your soul, defined cheekbones. A sensation of uneasiness rested in your lower belly and you realize you’re staring when she waves a hand over your face. “Hello? Miss?”

“S-Sorry! I was just thinking about something!”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking if you can help me put some of the dishes away just for today. I don’t know where everything is and I don’t like disorganization.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“You need anything else?”

“Folding the laundry, for now, I think? The clothes should be dry. Everything is upstairs.”

She follows behind you as you bring her out to the terrace where your laundry hangs on a string. Dresses, button ups, and ties of earth toned colors adorn the area and you touch the fabrics. The sun had definitely done its job. Maki is already setting up the ironing board that was previously laying in the corner of your bedroom and gathering your husband’s work attire together. When she’s done flattening the creases on the pieces of clothing, you take them, hanging and folding. With her help, you were finished in half the time it usually took you.

“Thank you, Maki. Really, I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Miss. Your husband hired me to do my job and I am happy to help.”

As you hang your last dress, you give her a smile.

—

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s voice sounds throughout the house as he’s met with the sight of you and Maki laying out plating foods and placing them on the dinner table. He smiles and you walk towards him to greet him with a hug and a kiss. Maki continues with the task, sparing a glance at the both of you. “You didn’t tell me you hired a maid,” you whisper to your husband, “Though, she has been very helpful.”

“I’m glad, Honey.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Kind of curious as to why you hired one in the first place.”

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s have dinner, alright?” He shoots you a grin before looking over to Maki. “Feel free to stay for dinner, Maki!”

“I’m alright. I should get going anyways—”

“Nonsense!” You husband eagerly responds, pulling out an extra chair just for her, “My dear wife here says you’ve been helpful.”

“I have classes.”

“Oh. Well you might as well take some home!” You suggest, walking over to your tupperware cabinet.

Before you go back to your husband, you plate some food for her to take home and make sure she makes it back to her car as she walks out the door. You let out an involuntary sigh, leaning against the doorway and feeling content that you now have an extra hand.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Why do we need a maid?”

“Simple,” he grabs your hands from across the table, “I think we’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to have kids, silly woman!” His laughter booms throughout the entire room, “I mean you’ll have to get off birth control and everything, but I think it’s time.”

You laugh nervously as he leans in for a kiss. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know about this.”

“What?” He stands up, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “Why not?”

“I’m just kind of, uh, scared? I don’t know if I’m ready and we just got married a few months ago, you know?”

“Come on, don’t be scared,” he reassures you, kissing your cheek, “I hired Maki to be our maid to lay the stress off of you. I offered her an in-house job, which she’ll be starting next week, just so that you could rest easy while you’re pregnant.”

“In-house? Is she going to live with us?”

“Of course! She’s a college student, so she doesn’t mind getting paid and living in a house,” he explains before going back to the topic, “So please. I want you to have our baby. We can start tonight.” He suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

“O-Okay.”

—

The next few days, the cycle continues.

Maki comes in the morning, usually just about right before your husband leaves for work, and she helps you throughout the day. Doing dishes, folding clothes, cleaning the bathroom. Most of the time you help her, usually against her will, but it leads to a calm and comforting silence when you work together. She’s moving in soon, two days to be exact, and you think it’s time to get to know a little bit about her.

One problem; She’s reserved, which intimidates you, and you’re too scared to start a conversation.

Eventually, you’re going to have to break the ice. So you do it as she’s ironing the clothes and you’re putting them away. You think up a few basic questions, mulling them over as to not make her uncomfortable because you want to get to know her.

“My husband tells me you’re in university right now. What’s your major?”

“Sports science.” She replies bluntly, continuing her task.

“Oh, cool cool,” you try to figure out a way to continue, but come up blank. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk.

“What do you do when your husband is not around?” She asks curiously, as if she sensed your desire to hold the conversation.

“Chores, usually,” you frown, “Sometimes I watch TV, but I wish I was able to do other stuff. I really like painting, too. But I haven’t done much of that ever since we got married.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to become an artist. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but my family wanted stability for me so they introduced me to a family friend’s older son,” you smile, memories of your younger self filling up your head before a sense of sadness falls over your expression, “They said this would be good for me. And it is. My husband is a good man, I have a roof over my head and dinner on the table everyday, you know. I’m not complaining,” you pause, reeling out of your own thoughts, “Sorry if I just overshared.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she reassures you, “Just out of curiosity, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“That’s funny, I’m twenty one.”

“You’re closer to my age than my husband,” you laugh, folding another white button up before placing it in a drawer, “We are in very different positions.”

“Yes, we are,” she chuckles, “A struggling college student and a cool housewife.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say cool—”

“Nonsense!” She grumbles, an attempt to mock your husband.

“Nonsense!”

The both of you laugh and you realize how she seems almost angelic. The look in her eyes that was once piercing and intimidating was soft and heavenly. Her cheeks are flushed red and her smile was alluring. Before you even realize it, a feeling of warmth settles in your lower belly and it gets harder and harder to take your eyes off of her. Her chuckle was music to your ears and you’ve internally decided that it was one of your favorite sounds.

—

“Goodnight, Honey.”

He plants a kiss on your sweaty forehead before turning his back towards you, opting to hug a pillow on the side instead. Everything is wet, sticky, and gross, but before you can say anything, your husband is already fast asleep, little snores filling the air of the master bedroom. You lay down for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling in the dark until you gather up the last of your willpower to get up and clean the mess between your legs.

It was an okay night.

Sure, you came, but it was just boring. There was nothing to it, only the huffs and groans and praises from your husband as he lived out his fantasy of finally being able to breed you. You’re happy to provide him, as long as it makes him happy, because he loves you and you love him. Even if you have to clean up the mess yourself, even if you don’t finish, even if that rush of loving emotion that everyone seems to describe never hits you.

You’re happy.

That’s what you tell yourself anyways. Yet, your fingers rub furiously on your clit while the other pumps in and out of your dripping cunt. You’re close and you pretend that it’s her fingers You pretend that it’s her fingers that you’re clenching around, her mouth leaving soft kisses from your neck down to your exposed breasts. You pretend that you’re tugging on dark hair, asking for more, but when you come down from your high, the ringing in your ears stops suddenly and the snores overtake your hearing once again.

Maki.

It’s wrong, disgustingly wrong, but there’s no way to escape her. Not when she’s in your house in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening. She helps with everything, things that you didn’t even consider yourself, talks to you about the things you like. And you know that her favorite color is black, her family would have much rather preferred if she went the same route you did, and she likes junk food a little too much.

You also wonder when you should tell your husband that you definitely have not gone off those pills.

—

“Miss?”

“Yes?” You respond, a grocery bag in your arms filled with different fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although you've made a few additions to your list and you were unsure at first, but as Maki empties it, her eyes light up at the sight of the bright little bag.

“You got chips?”

“Well, yeah. They’re for you. I know you liked them.”

She beams at you and it’s almost blinding. There’s an odd flutter in your stomach and you ignore it, but it only becomes stronger when she rips open the bag and munches on the whole thing in seconds. The small satisfied moan from the first bite has you internally celebrating. She looks at peace. All she’s doing is eating a bag of her favorite chips, yet it fills you with some unexplainable feeling of warmth. You make another mental note to buy even more next time.

—

“What do you think of him?”

“Who?” She asks, sitting up on the couch as she watches you get lost on the canvas in front of you.

“My husband.”

“Oh,” she pauses, her hand coming from under her chin to think, “He’s pretty cool, I guess. He also pays me which is pretty cool, you know.”

“Come on, I won’t tell him,” you insist, coming close, your hands involuntarily brushing over hers. She doesn’t pull them away, letting you rest them, enjoying the extra warmth.

“I mean, he’s a man, alright.”

“What does that even mean?”

“No offense,” she continues, finding the least rudest way to say it, “He’s kind of basic, you know? Which isn’t bad but he yells at the TV when watching football, has you light his cigarettes, and waits for you to serve him food. Just your typical husband things, I guess.”

“Are you saying my husband is boring?” You ask with a stoic face, watching the fear fill her eyes.

“No, no! That’s not what I—”

“Kidding,” you chuckle as she purses her lips before joining along, “I was just curious.”

“Well, why?”

“I don’t know,” you say, sighing as you think of all the times he did anything romantic for you, “He’s a good man, you know that, right?”

“Well, of course.”

“He brings me flowers, gives me goodnight kisses, tells me he loves me, but—” you pause, afraid to finish the thought. Your heart pounds at the mess of ideas on your mind and you’re ashamed, “I don’t know if I feel that love thing those people always talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

She’s intrigued to say the least. You’re fiddling your thumbs with a nervous smile on your face. All the while, the music you put on fades in the background until it’s only the two of you, hearts beating fast, blood rushing to your cheeks. When you finally look her in the eye, she doesn’t miss how glassy they look and that’s when her suspicions are confirmed without a verbal sentence — you’re unsure.

“He- Well, I don’t know. Forget I said anything about it,” you clasp your hands together before getting back to work in the kitchen, “And please, don’t tell him.”

Uncertainty, you’re most definitely full of it, but Maki is almost sure she’s figured it out before you have and she likes to think that she’s gotten to know you. She’s picked up how you play with your fingers when you’re unsure, how you smooth down your dress when you try to keep your composure, how that your smile loses genuinity while you’re at the dinner table. She decides it’s not her business, she’s only the housemaid and you’re just the housewife she works under.

But she’ll always be there for you with open arms if you need it.

—

“We gotta make breakfast, Maki.” You poke her side, waking her up from a deep sleep.

You’re already ready for the day, the top half of your hair already tied in a bun and a lilac colored dress adorning your figure. She’s caught off guard when she opens her eyes and you’re sitting up on the side of the bed poking at her hip. Her vision is blurry without her glasses, but she can clearly smell the sweet scent of vanilla perfume. Taking in a deep breath, she sits up, too, reaching for her glasses on the bedside table.

And her sleek, black hair cascades down her shoulders, though it’s slightly messy, you’re tempted to run your fingers through the soft looking strands. You’ve seen Maki in her maid uniform at home, jeans when she goes out to shop, but the sight of her in a satin night dress was different and your breath hitches when the blanket falls off the upper half of her body. It’s a loose fit and she looks absolutely ethereal, almost like an angel.

She turns her head to the side and you fake cough, trying to make up for staring a little too long. “I know your day doesn’t start yet, but I was hoping to get some help on breakfast today. Is that alright with you?”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll go get ready right now.

“Cool.”

You walk down to the kitchen, preparing a pie crust for your quiche and reading through the recipe you were given by a friend. By the time you blind bake the crust, Maki joins you in her usual attire. “Need anything, Miss?”

“While the quiche is baking, I just need you to make some cookie dough. Just the usual, my family is coming over later.”

“Of course.”

She gets to work right away, finding the ingredients immediately as you fill up your empty pie crust and dance around the kitchen. Right after the quiche is placed in the oven, your hips sway along with the music that plays in the radio. It’s all soft and slow, Maki smiling at your antics while you jokingly attempt to serenade her. She’s mixing in the chocolate chips into the dough and you walk forward, energetic and lost in the song.

You don’t think much of it when you grab her hip and your faces come closer together. One second, you were playfully dancing around your kitchen and the next, your breaths mingle, the gap between the two of you closing. It’s her who decides to lean forward, soft lips meeting together, your back suddenly meeting the edge of the counter. Her hands rest on the surface, each on either side of you, and her lips taste like cherries. Your hands come up to her cheeks as your mouths meld together until it’s hard to breathe.

You pull away first, remembering that your husband is still sleeping upstairs. “What are we doing?”

“Don’t know,” she replies, her hand starting to trail under the skirt of your dress, “It feels right, though.”

“Should we stop?” You mutter, just barely enough for her to hear.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

It gives her the extra rush of courage to get under your dress and push your body until your back is flat on the counter. Luckily, there was nothing underneath except for a pair of plain black panties, a damp spot right in the middle. Her thumb presses on your clothed clit and by the way your body squirms she knows you’re sensitive which only adds to the sadistic fun of pulling down your underwear at an agonizingly slow pace. “Need you,” you breathe out, your legs being positioned on her shoulders, “I need you, please.”

“I got you, Baby. Don’t worry.” She replies with a smile, her breath hitting your wet cunt.

Your breath hitches as her tongue trails up from your hole up to your sensitive pearl and she moans at the sweet taste of your arousal. Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs, holding them open as you bite your lip to contain your moans. He’s right upstairs, you think, but any thought of caution starts to leave you once her soft lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves causing your knuckles to turn white as they grab onto the edge of the counter.

Your husband has never touched you like this. Ever.

The feeling of her mouth is foreign, but welcome. Before you know it, the grip on one of your thighs loosen and two fingers slip into your soaked cunt. She’s gentle at first, the pumps of her digits ever so delicately pressing against your g spot, but once you hike up the skirt of your dress and thread your fingers through her hair, she speeds up, hitting hard and fast. “M-Maki— Shit!”

You squeal when her tongue starts massaging your clit and your walls clench despite being empty, “Such a pretty girl,” she coos, watching in awe at how your slick coats her fingers, “Such a pretty pussy.”

Lewd praises and squelches fill the kitchen air as the coil in your stomach builds and snaps until your cunt is gushing all over her. Your back arches as you reach your high and she leaves a trail of kisses from your thigh to your sopping pussy. Bringing her fingers to your mouth, she gives you one command.

“Suck.”

You obey, wrapping your soft lips around her digits, swirling your tongue and she gives a graceful smile, brushing a thumb over your flushed cheeks. A sheen of sweat covers your forehead, but the sound of footsteps brings you out of your thoughts. Maki pockets your underwear, giving you a wink, before washing her hands and taking the nearly forgotten quiche out of the oven.

By the time you hear the footsteps of your husband, you’re decent, minimal signs of physical exertion just barely noticeable. She’s going through her usual routine of plating your food in front of the two of you, doing the dishes, laundry, everything. You want to say something, you really do, and you’re left with your own questions.

At night, you’re left pondering the strong women with silky black hair whilst in the arms of your husband.

—

Two days.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve gotten the most mind blowing orgasm of your life. Your panties are still missing, though you don’t mind knowing who has them. And when you think about the things your mother has told you repeatedly about your perfectly structured life, it crumbles with each second. When you look at the face next to you, the indifference in your heart starts to become more and more prominent.

And even though you should feel guilty — well, you do — you also don’t regret it at all.

You still do your chores as expected, make the bed, cook dinner. You still organize the laundry, do the dishes, and tend to your rose garden. You still disinfect, fold, and have sex with your husband who’s indifferent to your pleasure every night. Almost every domestic activity was accompanied by Maki, who often sought to take over or help.

Yet, she wouldn’t even look at you.

She wouldn’t say anything that didn’t pertain to a grocery list or a command and it was infuriating. Still, you were determined to bring it up — how could you not? As you fold blankets on the couch and think, you call out her name. “Maki?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

Your heart drops a tiny bit, it was an expected response based on the fact it felt like she was avoiding you, but you still had to swallow the lump in your throat. “Nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks as you’re looking down on the rug, trying to focus on the pattern instead of the woman in front of you.

“I’m just sorry I brought it up. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that we did whatever that was,” you take a deep breath as forming tears blurred your vision, “I’m sorry that I can’t fucking do this, Maki. I don’t love him. I can’t love him.”

She sighs, scooching forward and closer to you then pulling the half folded blanket from your hands. “You shouldn’t be sorry. This was my fault.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You’re just, I’m just—” you inhale again, trying to find the right words to say, “You’re different. You’re different from him in all the best ways. You listen to what I have to say, you care about how I feel.”

“That’s something that any good friend would do—”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh.”

She brings her fingers to your chin, nudging your head up until you’re looking her in the eyes for the first time in days. She gazes at you, appreciating every curve and every mark on your skin. You take this as an opportunity to lean in, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She doesn’t stop it, instead indulging in the act, cupping your cheeks.

It soon becomes hungry, her tongue slipping past your lips, you being rolled over onto your back as she slips her hand under your floral dress. She presses a finger against your clothed cunt, causing you to gasp and throw your head back. At the same time she leaves sloppy kisses on the exposed skin of your neck and you struggle to form a coherent sentence.

“M-Maki, stop,” you whimper and she pauses, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh?” She smirks, giving you another breathless kiss, “Wanna put that mouth to use, Baby?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, “Wanna make you feel good, Mommy.”

Her expression is filled with pride as she drags her fingers across your face and into your mouth. You comply with the silent command, wrapping your lips around the digits and sucking softly, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl.”

You let out a hum while she discards her panties somewhere on the ground and her bare cunt hovers over your face. It’s intimidating, yet the sight of her glistening folds makes you wet. All you wanted to do was taste her, drink up all of her juices, and when you finally do you can’t get enough. Despite the lack of experience, you do what you think would feel good, giving experimental licks, noting when her body twitched and when she would let out a saccharine moan.

“Fuck — you’re doing so well,” she coos, carding her fingers through your hair, admiring the sight of your half lidded eyes and the feel of your tongue, “You sure this is your first time eating pussy?”

You hum in response which sends vibrations throughout her body, causing her to throw her head back. You grip onto her lower back, desperately bringing her wet cunny closer to yourself and she rolls her hips, grinding herself on your mouth. You’re already addicted, lapping at all of the cum she has to offer, watching intently as her mouth forms an o shape and she soaks the lower half of your face.

“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

She gets off your face and you smile with pride, tugging off the rest of her maid uniform until she’s completely bare in your living room. Every curve of her body fills you with even more lust and you’re sure your panties are soaked just from the sight. Her thighs are defined, muscular even, and you kiss them before going back to her ruined pussy, lapping at all the slick.

“You’re so pretty, Maki,” you utter, your breath hitting her neck as you come back up to her face.

She pushes you backward until you’re flat on your back, pinning your wrists together before ripping off your panties. Maki wastes no time, two fingers entering your hole and curling with every thrust. “You got this wet from eating me out?” She questions cockily, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the shell of your ear along with a nibble, “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you whimper in between breaths, “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” She responds, watching you come undone underneath her.

Your orgasm builds up with every pump, the coil in your stomach tightening. She fastens the pace, every movement being calculated, her fingers knuckles deep in your cunt. Her fingertips manage to brutally hit the spongy spot inside of you, causing your legs to shake. Your back arches when her lips wrap around your clit, the simultaneous stimulation making your body tremble in delight. You’re gushing all over her fingers and she stares in awe as your slick drips down your thighs.

“Can we go to the bedroom?” You request meekly, barely recovering from your last orgasm.

“Of course, Baby,” she beams at you, body gleaming with a sheen of sweat, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Maki picks you up bridal style with almost no effort, pressing kisses all over your face on the way upstairs. When you finally get to the bedroom, she lays you down gently, almost as if you were a delicate piece of glass. But the moment of soft intimacy doesn’t last.

It doesn’t last when her pussy hovers over your face with her head buried in between your legs, licking hot stripes on your folds, sucking on your pearl while her fingers brush on your legs before finding their way back to your ruined cunt. Your tongue presses on her slit and her hips lower until your mouth is full of pussy. Her sweet taste is addicting and concurrent moans only heighten the pleasure, vibrations shooting through both of your bodies. Her thumb circles your clit furiously as she pulls away from your cunt to speak.

“You like this, don’t you? Ain’t this the same bed where you get fucked by your husband?” She questions demandingly, slapping your cunny.

You whine into her cunt, the sudden pain causing your walls to clamp around nothing. She laughs sadistically, pinching your clit, biting at your inner thighs.

“S’good, such a good little slut,” she coos, her nose tickling your clit as her face inches closer, “Bet you like getting fucked by your maid, don’t you?”

You can only respond with a squeal, her hand laying another blow to your aching pussy. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I got you.” She reassures you, mouth ravaging your cunt, slurping every drop of cum you had to offer. She’s close to her own orgasm, you can tell by the way she rides your face, soaking the lower half until the sweet droplets slide down your neck. You massage her clit with your tongue as she comes down from her high, but after yours, she doesn’t stop.

Instead, she continues to feast on your cunt like a starved woman, the pressure in your stomach building for the nth time that day. Coming again almost hurts, but she ignores the high pitched wails spilling from your lips, the sounds only encouraging her to keep sucking until your body trembles. At this point, you’re light headed, vision gradually becoming blurry. Your walls are pulsating, your mind is unable to process everything at once.

Especially the shocked man who stands in the doorway of your bedroom.

And at that exact moment, you let out a sob as Maki sadistically looks your husband right in the eye, her mouth still devouring your overstimulated cunny with fervor. Your hole leaks milky white, staining your shared sheets and you cry out her name, hopelessly gripping onto the plush of her ass for stability, digging your nails into the flesh. When she pulls away, a string of spit connects from her mouth to your pearl and her pupils are blown, cheeks covered with your arousal, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.

As if there was no one in the room, she readjusts her until her face hovers over yours, her swollen pussy present on your thigh.

“Open.”

You comply readily and she grabs your face with one hand, squishing your wet cheeks so hard that they start to ache.

“Good girl.”

She spews into your mouth, watching the blob as it glides down your tongue and you swallow obediently before she comes down for a sweet kiss. The taste of yourself makes your head dizzy with lust. Let it be known that the horrified figure standing in the doorway could never make you feel as good as the maid.

Oops.

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mockery-and-mistakes · 3 years ago

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Two sides of the same coin - Part 2

Masterlist

Hero was immediately assigned to one of the most notorious villains in the city. It wasn’t the same villain they had met they other day, but Hero was definitely not disappointed. This villain had the ability to teleport, but their ability had some setbacks. They could only teleport if they could see the place they were teleporting to. So, of course, Hero threw down some smoke, threw a blindfold over their eyes, and handcuffed them, problem solved. It had taken several tries, over the course of two weeks, but they managed to arrest them. They were most notorious for the stealing of famous or dangerous objects, and the police department returned all stolen objects to their original places.

Given that they had taken down this villain so easily, they were assigned to some of Supervillain’s lackeys. They took a while, but one by one, Hero took them down in a non-violent way, and they were imprisoned for their crimes. Word spread of them throughout the city, portraying them as this powerful savior or something, until the press realized they didn’t use any sort of magic or gift other than their own tactics and ingenuity. Then they were just a curiosity. One night, after they had stopped some plant-controlling cult members, they met Villain again. The slightly taller criminal casually walked up to them on the rooftop, out of sight from anyone but Hero.

“Hello, Hero~ Another successful night?” Villain purred.

“Indeed. They were disorganized, had too much tension with each other. They were quick to split up, and I picked them off one by one.” Hero stated, as Villain strode up beside them.

“What’s your next big plan?” Villain mused, pretending Hero was the one who decided which villain to take down next.

“They want me to mentor some less experienced heroes, teach them a thing or two. Like a crash course on heroism.” They said, sitting on the edge of the building. Villain joined them, offering a granola bar.

Hero took it, and fiddled with the wrapper for a while. “Tell me a riddle.”

“Okay… what is black and white and red all over?” Villain said.

“Let’s see… A newspaper, a sunburned Zebra… a photo from the 70’s with ketchup spilled on it?”

“Bingo. I’m surprised you got that one!” Villain chuckled. Hero smiled back.

“Hey, I’ve got a knock knock joke for you.”

“Oh? Let’s hear it!”

“Okay, but you have to start it.”

“Aight, knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Hero snickered.

“ ��DANGIT.” Villain sputtered.

“Dangit, who?” Hero laughed.

“Hey, it’s not funny!”

“Haha, yes it is! You fell for it!” Hero snickered, holding back more laughter.

Villain pouted, and Hero continued to giggle at them, almost falling off the roof in the process.

“I haven’t laughed like that in months.” Hero wheezed, grinning like an idiot.

“Really?” Villain asked.

“Yeah, not since- …not since I last saw Roommate.” Hero’s smile faltered, and they went quiet.

“What happened?” Villain queried.

“Well, they just disappeared one day. They left a note, but… everything else was gone. All their stuff had been moved out and they were nowhere to be found. All it said was ‘I’m sorry’. Sorry for what?” Hero sighed. “Since then, nobody’s ever tried to befriend me or talk to me, not like they did. Until you, of course. You’re hilarious.”

Villain chuckled, “Me, hilarious? Tell me something I didn’t know.”

Hero just laughed again, and looked at their phone. “Well, I’d better get going, gotta get some sleep. Take care.” Hero said, and walked down the stairs.

Villain tried to follow them again, but they just disappeared like last time. Villain thought back to their conversation. Everything they said reminded them of someone, but they couldn’t remember why. Their voice, even the knock knock joke they’d told stirred some deep, forgotten memory. They tried to remember, but something was missing. Something was suppressing their memories, keeping them from piecing anything together. Whatever, they had tea at Lover’s place that afternoon, and they shouldn’t miss it.

It still bugged them though. Who was Hero, and why did they stir up such odd feelings?

#hero #hero x villain fandom #villain #hero x villain #short story #story snippet #supervillain #memory loss #jokes

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scuttling · 3 years ago

Text

(You Want To) Make a Memory

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Word Count: 19,858 Chapters: 5 of 5 Complete Tags: 18+, NSFW, Amnesia, Anxiety attacks, Sex dreams, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Praise kink, Unprotected sex, Vaginal fingering, Dirty talk, Choking, Biting, Hickies, Oral sex, Making love, Angst and feels, Shower sex, Size kink Summary: Sophie gets amnesia while working a case and forgets everything from the last two years: her friends, her job at the BAU, and her boyfriend, Aaron. Note: This is a reformatted, previously published work. :)

Link to AO3 or read Chapter 1 below!

The thing Sophie finds most complicated about her work at the BAU is that it’s their job to predict the unpredictable. Yes, they are all highly educated, knowledgeable profilers, with decades of experience between them, and human behavior typically follows patterns that are easily discernible if you have the right training. But even armed with all the information, all the statistics, all the data, there’s one thing they can never really know for certain: what a desperate person will do in the heat of the moment.

The unsub they are looking for is a white male, aged 25-35, who lives alone, has a steady daylight job, drives a red pickup truck, and has a problem with older female authority figures. Sophie could go on and on about this particular type of unsub—she could tell you where he shops, how he spends his evenings, his favorite sport/team/player, probably even what he’ll eat for dinner tonight—but there’s no way she can know how he’ll react to the FBI at his door, or the consequences his actions will have.

The team is canvassing the neighborhood they believe the unsub resides in, and she and Spencer were assigned the four hundred block; they each take a separate side of the street, and work their way down house by house trying to find someone who fits the profile, or knows someone who does.

“Any luck?” Sophie asks Spencer when they meet back up at the end of the the block. He grimaces, uncertain.

“There was one guy, but…” She gestures toward the SUV and they walk toward it together.

“What happened? Profile didn’t fit?”

“He was the right demographic, the vehicle fit, but he wasn’t disorganized. In fact, his home looked like it belonged in a catalog: photos on the walls, decorative items, nothing out of place.” She frowns a little, because it’s clear this guy has raised some red flags for her partner, and she trusts his intuition when it comes to stuff like this.

“And he lives alone?” she asks, confirming. That’s a pretty big part of the profile, considering what he does to the victims. He nods.

“Yes, no indication of a girlfriend or wife living there.” Sophie blows out a breath, leans against the side of the SUV.

“Okay, let’s brainstorm. Maybe... he hires a housekeeper.” Spencer shrugs.

“He didn’t seem like the type, but I guess it’s possible.”

“Alright, well… Okay, so our profile is of a man who kills older women because he has an issue with an older woman who is an authority figure in his life. We thought maybe his boss, but what if it’s his mother?” she asks, face lighting up a little. This theory makes more sense, actually. “What if she comes over while he’s at work, cleans the place up, redecorates, just takes complete control of his life, even his private space, and he loses it?” He nods enthusiastically.

“That is extremely more likely. Now that I think of it, all the photos were of him and an older woman who could be his mother.” Sophie pulls out her phone, gestures over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Let’s head back there; Hotch and JJ are just around the corner, I’ll let them know we might need backup. 412?”

“Yeah—hey, that’s the truck. That’s the truck,” he says with more urgency, pointing down the street at a rapidly approaching red pickup truck that matches the description of the unsub’s. Shit.

“Okay, get in the car, call Hotch,” she instructs, and they both barely make it in before the truck rear-ends the SUV on the driver's side; Sophie’s head hits off the steering wheel hard, and the car rocks, and she looks over at Spencer, a little disoriented, to make sure he’s okay. He’s holding his wrist, like maybe he hurt it bracing himself.

When she gets her bearings, she starts the car, throws it into reverse, ready to apply a little force and potentially keep him from striking again, but he backs up, speeds up, and cuts the wheel to go around them, striking her door and driving past. It’s then that another SUV cuts him off, and Hotch and JJ jump out, guns drawn; the unsub raises his hands, surrenders, and it’s over as quickly as it began.

“Sophie?” She can hear her name, but her head is swimming. She touches the cut above her temple, pulls back a hand covered in blood, but she knows head injuries bleed heavily, so she’s not worried. She’s more worried that she can’t tell where that voice is coming from. It’s like she’s in a fun house, sounds echoing from all sides. “Sophie, can you hear me?” She hums in response.

Kind hands are on her face, turning it toward the sun, and she scrunches her eyes at the brightness. She knows the hands are trying to help, but her head already hurts, and the light isn’t doing her any favors.

“Gotta… get up,” she mumbles, and the hands hold her waist, help her out of the car. Her left foot hurts when she puts her weight down on it, and she almost folds, but the hands hold her up, and she thinks she smiles.

“Reid—is she okay?” That voice is a voice that makes her want to answer immediately, even if her brain hasn’t quite caught up. She stumbles over her words.

“‘M okay. Just my… head.” A different pair of hands hold her up, and her brain is working enough to recognize that she loves the smell of the person attached to the hands. They are serious hands, and one of them sweeps gently over her face.

“Can you open your eyes for me, baby, please?” that good voice asks, and she wants to do anything the voice asks, but her eyes really hurt. She must say that out loud, because the voice says softly, “That’s alright, don’t strain yourself. Medics on the way. You’re going to be fine.”

“Tell him…” She is placed back in the car, can feel the softness of the seat against her back, and it’s nice. “Tell him that was mean… and not to do it again.” She feels lips on her face, turns toward them, sighs when they brush over hers. “Mmm. Or I’m going to… tell his mother.” When Sophie wakes up, she feels like she’s been repeatedly punched in the head, thrown down a flight of stairs, and then run over by a truck, so, naturally, she groans. She doesn’t dare open her eyes at first, can already see the fluorescents flickering through her eyelids, but her mouth is dry, and since she knows she must be in a hospital, she knows that there’s a little plastic pitcher of water somewhere within her reach.

Cautiously, she cracks one eye, finds the pitcher and a kind looking woman with fair skin and dark bangs staring back at her.

“You’re awake!” she whispers excitedly, and she leans forward for a hug, which Sophie does not return, because she doesn’t know the woman. The woman must feel the tension in Sophie’s body as she sits, arms at her sides, and waits for the hug to end, because she pulls back, concerned. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she begins, unsure of how to put this politely. Her voice is dry, rough, and the woman pours her a glass of water, which she takes gratefully. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t… Do I know you?” Her face falls, and she looks confused, and then abruptly worried.

“My name is Emily. Prentiss. Does that ring a bell?” Sophie thinks back, tries to navigate around the pounding in her temples, and ultimately shakes her head.

“No, I’m sorry. And I mean no disrespect—I meet a lot of people for work, so sometimes it’s hard to keep track.”

“Where do you work?”

“I work for the FBI. Intelligence.” Sophie takes in the woman’s outfit—black turtleneck, gray pants, boots, government issued handgun—and tilts her head curiously. “And you?”

“FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She pulls her bag closer on the seat beside her, pulls out her credentials, lets Sophie hold them. “Have you heard of it?”

“Sure, of course. I have an interview there next week, actually.” She hands back the badge with a smile. “Small world. Uh, do you think that what happened to me occurred because of a crime, or something? Is that why you’re here?"

Agent Prentiss gives her a sad smile, then stands, pulling out her cell phone. “You know, we’re really not sure what’s going on. Excuse me for one moment, I need to make a call. I’ll get your doctor while I’m out there.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Sophie calls as she heads out of the room, and she pours another glass of water.

When the agent returns with the doctor, she looks tenser, but the doctor just shoots her a kind smile. “Hello, Sophie. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

“Thank you; I’m glad to be awake. How long have I been out?”

“About two days. You were in a car accident, do you remember that?” She’d catalogued her injuries while alone—laceration to the head, some pain and swelling there; aching wrist, sore but unbroken; bruised ankle, tender but okay to put pressure on—and they are consistent with a car accident, but she shakes her head.

“No, ma’am, I don’t remember.” The doctor frowns, an expression the agent behind her mirrors.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“Um.” She closes her eyes, thinks hard for a moment, but it hurts her eyes. “I was driving home from work, I think? Or about to leave for the day. It’s kind of blurry.”

“That’s alright, don’t press too hard. It should come back to you in no time.” She steps around the bed to pull her chart off the wall, skims it briefly. “We’re going to have to run some scans; I’ll give you a moment with Agent Prentiss, and then I’ll send someone in to take you down to the lab, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you, doctor.” The woman smiles and walks out of the room, leaving her with the clearly unhappy agent. “Is everything okay, Agent Prentiss? You look about as bad as I feel.” The woman sighs, drops back down into her seat, folds her hands in her lap.

“The doctor believes you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia. You don’t remember some things you should remember. Quite a bit of time.” Her throat goes dry again, her heart beats rapidly in her chest.

“That’s not possible. I remember driving home from work… or, getting in the car to drive home from work, just the other day.” She shakes her head like she’s not sure what to say.

“I know, Sophie, but that’s not a recent memory. You don’t work at the Grant building anymore.”

“What do you mean? I’m the Intelligence liaison. I mean, I applied for the BAU job…” She’s wanted to work there since she found out about it, to put her degrees to good use; to get an interview is almost unheard of, everyone told her, but she made the cut, even bought a new suit to wear. It’s still hanging in her closet.

“And you got it,” Prentiss says gently, reaching forward to take her hand. “You and I have been working together at the BAU for almost two years.”

Sophie can’t be blamed, she doesn’t think, when she leans over, reaches for the wastebasket, and promptly vomits. “So I’m a profiler, and I’ve been one for two years. I work with you and we’re friends,” Sophie repeats as a bit of a recap. Prentiss nods.

“Yep. Those who profile serial killers together, stick together.” She says it with a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes.

“Wow. Okay. I’m really sorry I don’t remember you.” She shrugs it off, and Sophie sighs. “Any other major life events I should know about? Did I get a cat, go vegan?”

“You don’t have time for a pet, and you like cheese too much,” Prentiss jokes, but that does sound like something she’d say. Her face gets serious after that, and she even looks nervous. It makes Sophie nervous, too. “You have a boyfriend.”

That raises her eyebrows.

“I have a boyfriend.” She smiles softly, nods.

“Yes. He’s… it’s funny, because he’s actually... our boss.” Sophie blanches. Talk about a close-knit group.

“I’m sleeping with my boss? That is not like me.” She barely sleeps with anyone, too busy focusing on her career and not that into one-night-stands, but her boss of all people? That’s just plain stupid.

“It’s really not like that, trust me. You two are in love.” Okay, she’s heard enough. Maybe Prentiss is a prankster, playing some wildly hilarious joke on her amnesiac pal.

“I’m in love. Did I actually say that?” She knows herself pretty well, flaws and all, and she’s been a vehement skeptic when it comes to love for… god, as long as she can remember—no pun intended. Prentiss nods, looks very serious.

“Yes, I’ve heard you say it many, many times. You two live together.”

“We live together? For how long?” This can’t be right; one of the things she values most is her privacy, her solitude. She lives a quiet, simple life, aside from being an FBI agent, and she likes it that way.

“About six months,” she answers carefully.

“We’ve lived together for six months? How long have we been dating?” Her voice sounds a little shrill even to her own ears. Prentiss is being very cool about it all, doesn’t so much as blink.

“It’s a year next week, actually. He’s been trying to come up with a surprise for your anniversary.” Sophie feels a little lightheaded.

“Anniversary. Fuck.” She squeezes her eyes shut, which hurts, opens them only so the pain will go away. She knows they’re teary, can’t help it, but she doesn’t want Prentiss to see her like this. She hates being vulnerable, always has. “I can’t remember two years of my life. I can’t remember my own boyfriend, my own job. My friends.”

“I can tell you about them, if you want,” she offers cautiously. “The doctor said it could help, but if you feel like it’s too much, let me know.”

Sophie nods carefully. She wants to know, she needs to know.

Prentiss—Emily—is so genuinely kind. She sits there for an hour, tells Sophie about work, and their team—their friends, because the group is very tight, gets together for dinner and drinks, and they all support each other’s non-bureau endeavors, and she feels so sad that she can’t remember them, can’t recall anything Emily is rattling off so easily it’s like she doesn’t even have to think about it.

She talks about some tough cases they’ve worked on, and how they always end with a cookout or a family dinner so they can remember why they do the hard things, why they keep fighting. She talks about people they’ve helped, saved, brought comfort to. She talks about flights home on the jet, how sometimes they sit in quiet, companionable silence and other times it’s all teasing and laughter and the good things in life.

Then she starts talking about Aaron—the boss/boyfriend—and Sophie does cry, a couple of tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. She’d never imagined in her life that she would be as loved as she is, if Emily’s stories are true, and the fact that she can’t remember any of it is like a knife to the gut. She wants to scream, to make someone pay for what she’s missing, but she knows none of that will bring her memory back, so she dials back the rage as quickly as it came—huh, that’s new.

Usually, her particular brand of anxiety attack would happen right about now, always worse when she’s afraid or angry. She anticipates tightening in her chest, shortness of breath, ringing in her ears that takes forever to go away, but it doesn’t come. She’s able to calm herself with a deep breath, and despite the fact that the rest of her life is a dumpster fire right now, this feels kind of good. It feels like progress, not a story told through someone else’s eyes, but a tangible feeling she can hold onto and think, I am a different version of Sophie than I was two years ago. A better version, maybe. But at least different. That, above everything else, makes it real.

A nurse walks in to take Sophie down for scans, and Emily just smiles, a bit sadly, and tells her she’ll be there waiting when she returns.

It’s a small comfort, something she holds onto as she’s taken down to the lab. When Sophie makes it back to her room, Emily is waiting there as promised, and she has a duffle bag sitting on the bed. “The doctor says you can go home while they wait for the scans,” she says with a smile; she probably thinks it will make Sophie happy, and it does, but the idea of going to a home she’s never been to is a little unsettling. Still, it’s nice to know there are people who care about her who will help her through it, that she’s not alone. That’s not something Sophie of two years ago would have been able to count on.

She smiles back, and Emily helps her change into clothes that somehow still smell like the hospital, but it feels better to be dressed and not stuck in the flimsy hospital gown that always makes you feel weaker and sicker, more injured than you really are.

She hears a voice from out in the hall, a voice that catches her attention immediately, and she walks over to the door, peeks her head out to see if she can find the man it belongs to.

She does, and he is almost too good-looking to be real. Somehow, she both instinctively knows that this man is Aaron, and can’t see how that could possibly be true.

“Emily. Is that Aaron?” she asks to confirm, pointing to the tall, serious-looking, frankly smoldering hot man having a conversation with her doctor at the end of the hall. She peeks her head out the door too, looks toward him with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s him. Do you remember him?” Her tone is guarded but hopeful, and Sophie sighs.

Remember him, no, not in the way she means, but every cell in her body feels alive and on fire just from catching a glimpse of his face, so she’s pretty sure Emily is right and she’s crazy in love with him. And his suit. Who looks that good in a suit?

Her boyfriend, apparently. Who she lives with. Who she’s been with for a year. Her mind is still a little blown.

“I don’t recall any memories of him,” she whispers, as if he can hear her from down the hall, “but, uh. I think my body remembers him.” Emily looks at her, eyebrow quirked, and she blushes. “Or, you know. Parts of it.”

Realization dawns, and Emily grins. “Okay yeah, that tracks. You two are kind of all over each other. It’s an intense vibe.” Sophie takes a moment to imagine that, what it would be like to be in a relationship with this man.

He looks intense, which can be good or bad, with the kind of mouth you could kiss forever, smile against. He’s taller than her by about a foot, which thrills her, and broad, as evidenced by the jacket stretched across his shoulders, which really thrills her. He’s older, maybe early forties, which she doesn’t feel particularly strongly about one way or another, with gorgeous dark hair and eyes, and when he shakes hands with the doctor, silver wrist watch gleaming under the fluorescent lights, her mouth practically waters.

“Earth to Sophie. You’ve got a little drool, there,” Emily teases, pointing to her own mouth, and Sophie groans.

“You didn’t prepare me. You didn't tell me he was hot.” Aaron turns away from the doctor, starts walking down the hall toward her room, and she ducks out of the doorframe, Emily following suit. She puts a hand to her forehead, not in physical pain, but mental pain for sure. “God, this is going to be so awkward. I’ve got a total lady boner for the guy I’m in love with that I can’t even remember.”

“It might be a little awkward at first, but you guys are sweet together. He’s going to be so caring and understanding, give you all the time you need.” She puts her hands on Sophie’s arms, grounding her. “We’re going to focus on trying to get your memories back, but the doctor said you shouldn’t stress.”

“That’s easy for her to say,” she mutters, crossing her arms, “she didn’t forget her big sexy boyfriend.” She hears a soft chuckle from behind her and instantly flushes, which makes Emily grin.

“Sophie, this is Aaron.” She physically turns her, and Aaron is smiling gently, which makes him look even better than when he was serious and expressionless. Her heart thrums in her chest.

“Hi. I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I want to.” She sticks out her hand for a shake, feels dumb instantly, but he takes it anyway, holds it for a moment. His hand is rough, so much bigger than hers, and part of her hopes he never lets go.

“That’s alright. Dr. Bracken is confident you’ll recover all of your memories in time. She’s given me some instruction on ways we can try to jog your memory, but no stress, like Emily said.”

“I guess we’re not considering the fact that losing two years of your life is a little stressful,” she counters, and he laughs again.

“You haven’t lost anything. Just misplaced them for a while.” He steps toward her, like he wants to touch her, comfort her maybe, but freezes, thinks better of it. She’s torn between wanting to get to know him better first and wanting to jump into his arms immediately, so she decides to let him set the pace. “So… Do you want to come home with me?” His voice is soft, hopeful, matching his eyes. “Garcia—our friend, another coworker of ours—has offered to put you up at her place if you’re not comfortable with that, so no worries either way. You have a place to go.”

Her stomach sinks a little at the thought of being anywhere but home, even though she has no idea where that is, and she looks back at Emily, who smiles encouragingly.

“I think I want to go home,” she decides after a moment, and she turns back to look at Aaron. “Is that okay with you?” He nods seriously.

“Yes, of course. I want you home with me. I just wanted you to know you had other options.” Emily slips past her, a hand on her elbow, and finishes gathering up her belongings while they talk. “The rest of the team is going to come over for a little bit, if you’re okay with that. The doctor said it would be a good idea, since you spend most of your time with them, but if at any point it gets overwhelming, let me know. No hard feelings if we send everyone home.”

“Okay,” she breathes, her head already swimming a bit just from talking to Aaron, and he does step forward, then, giving her her space but indicating that he wants to come closer, if she’ll let him.

“May I put this on you?” he murmurs, and opens his palm to display her rose necklace, the one she wears, must still wear, everyday. At least that hasn’t changed. “The EMTs gave it to me when they brought you in. I’ve been holding onto it for safekeeping.” She nods, turns around, and he slips it around her throat, clasps it, brushes a careful hand over her neck to move her hair out of the way. “That’s better,” he says, his breath ghosting over her skin, and she sighs, wants to sink back against the heat of his body; she just knows how comforting it would be, how safe she would feel. Instead, she turns and smiles softly.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” They hold eye contact for a moment, and then Emily appears at her side, making a face like she knows she’s interrupting something.

“Ready to get going?” she asks, handing Sophie’s duffle bag over to Aaron. “I’m going to stop at home and then I’ll head to your place.”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Emily,” Sophie says sincerely, stepping forward to pull her into a tight hug. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I hope I remember more about you soon.”

“I’m happy I could be here, and I know you will. Just give it some time.” She pats her on the back, and then leaves the room.

Aaron carries her bag and leads her out to the parking garage, toward a standard federal issued SUV, and he opens the door for her, closes it behind her with a gentle smile.

Time to go home.

Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x original female character #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner/original female character #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Her Mess (Christen x Reader)

Request: Christen x reader where reader is younger and in college and reader meets the team

It was safe to say that you had always been a bit of a mess. You would argue that you were an organized mess, but Christen would disagree. If the gay mess you turned into the first time Mal had ever introduced you to her was anything to go off of. Yes, you were a mess, but you were her mess, and she took great joy in helping to keep you on track.

From the very beginning, she had helped you with your schedule. Made sure you ate and gave yourself time for studying and soccer. She never overstepped, she was your girlfriend not your mother after all, but she was definitely the organized one in your relationship.

It was why the prospect of traveling without her was incredibly daunting. She was already at camp with the rest of the national team (who you would be meeting for the first time) and you would be meeting them there with Mal after the two of you finished finals. To say you were nervous was an understatement. It was your first call up, and though your girlfriend and best friend had assured you it would be fine, you weren’t so sure. You had quadruple checked the list of things Christen and you had made, but even as you left the plane you were sure you had left something important. You were going to meet the team and you didn’t know if you were supposed to be meeting Christen too, or if you two were going, to be honest.

You sighed, running your hand through your messy hair, before slipping your beanie back on. Your knee jumped up and down impatiently, and you bit your lip. You didn’t like waiting. Why did this car ride have to be so long?

“Do I need to call Mama Press or are you going to chill out on your own?” Mal said finally, her hand coming down to still your leg. You grinned sheepishly at her.

“I just-... What if they don’t like me, and what if they’re weirded out by the age difference?” You rambled, your fingers tapping on the car window.

“You’re like the funniest person I know. The team is going to love you! And I’ll be honest, It was a little weird at first for the person who was like my sister to be dating someone who was basically my mom. But after watching you two together, it’s obvious that you were made for each other,” Mal said softly, her hand running soothing circles on your thigh. You frowned.

“What if she doesn’t want to tell them that she’s dating me because she’s ashamed of the age difference?” You asked softly, staring intently at your lap. Sure, Mal was cool with the age difference now, and so we’re your parents, but you knew that there were a lot of people out there who weren’t. Plus Christen was the Christen Press, and you were just a disorganized rookie.

Gentle fingers tilted your chin up, and your Y/e/c met Mal’s brown.“Christen is a lot of things. I don’t think ashamed is one of them,”

You nodded, returning your attention to the city passing by. You loved Christen, and you hoped that Mal was right.

******

Most people would hate getting off a plane and stepping directly into practice, but you were grateful for it. The field was your happy place, a place you didn’t have to think about all the what-ifs. A place where you could simply showcase your skills.

By the time you and Mal made it to the locker room, it was nearly empty. (Barring your girlfriend, who had stayed back to give you a tight hug and kiss, and Tobin who just sent you a small smile).

“You ready for this cutie?” Your girlfriend asked, settling down on the bench beside you, nudging you with her shoulder, and placing a kiss on your pink cheeks.

You stuck your tongue out at Mal who made a gagging sound.

“I think so,” You shrugged, rooting through your bag to find the last items of your gear, things you were sure you had put in this morning. Your eyebrows furrowed as you shoved your shin guards aside in search of your socks.

“Is it true you have the sprint record for UCLA?” Tobin nudged your other side. You nodded, not taking your eyes off of the contents of your bag. Had you been paying more attention, you probably would have freaked out that the Tobin Heath knew who you were.

“Don’t forget the juggling record either,” Mal added, smiling. You had quite the reputation for putting defenders on their asses, and it was going to be entertaining watching you work your magic with the national team.

“Damn,” Tobin mumbled wide eyes. She was going to have to call dibs on you for the scrimmage. You barely spared her a glance, groaning as you continued to dig for an item you were beginning to fear wasn’t in your bag. You took a deep breath, trying not to panic. Of course you had forgotten something important on your first camp with the national team.

Christen rubbed your back, her head tilting to the side as you ignored one of your heroes (your hero being her best friend was something she found immensely entertaining), her hand coming up to rub your back. “What are you looking for my darling,”

“I forgot my socks,” you huffed, shoving your bag to the floor pouting. Christen’s lips ticked up slightly as she leaned in to kiss your pink cheeks.

“That’s alright. I have an extra pair for you in my bag,”

Your blush deepened as you took the extra pair, slipping them on your feet. You nodded in thanks, she simply winked in return. She knew you’d forget something. You always did.

******

Meeting the team was an… experience. Kelley had immediately jumped on top of you, squealing about a new baby to corrupt before she was pulled off by Alex. Ashlyn and Ali had argued with Becky and Alyssa about who was going to be your team moms. The youngins had bombarded you with so many questions that it felt like your head was spinning. But through it, all Christen’s hand remained firmly in yours.

Standing in line, waiting for the forward vs defender drill to begin was a surreal experience for you. You watched with a keen eye as Mal went first and nearly navigated the ball past Becky. You kissed Christen’s cheek before she went and cleanly got past Kelley. Tobin took the next spot, pulling a clean nutmeg off on Abby. You were going to have to one-up her.

You took a deep breath, trying to settle your nerves, waiting to see which defender you would be up against.

“You good kid?” Megan asked, bumping your shoulder with her. You blinked, fighting the urge to squeal that The Megan Rapino was talking to you.

“Hm, excited!” You smiled, biting your lip as Sonnett took her place at the front of her line. Sonnett was good, but you were better and your desire to make a good first impression meant that you were really going to have to put on a show. There would be no better partner for the dance you had planned.

“Think you can best Sonnett?” Carli smirked, tapping you the ball.

“Definitely. Cant let a Cavalier get one over on me,” You winked, beginning to juggle the ball. Yeah, this was going to be fun.

******

“Holy shit, how are you so fast,” Emily panted, catching up to you after you’d made another shot at an unsuspecting Alyssa Naeher. It speared just past her fingertips, making the goal rattle as it made contact with the net.

“I ate lots of fudge striped cookies when I was younger,” You nodded, wiping the sweat from your forehead and heading towards the sidelines for your water break. From the time you were little you had believed wholeheartedly that the cookies made you run faster.

“Fudge stripped what?” Emily asked, her eyebrows furrowing beside you.

“Made by the Keebler elves. They’re magic,” You shrugged, glancing around for the greenbottle with your name on it, entirely unaware of the odd looks the team was giving you and the loving smile your girlfriend was sporting. “Where did I put my bottle?”

“It’s over-“ Mal started, only to be cut off by Christen’s elbow being lodged in her ribs.

“Take mine babe,” She laughed, passing you her bottle. You nodded in thanks, squirting the liquid into your mouth. What would you do without her? Mal smirked over your head at the green-eyed forward. Maybe part of your forgetfulness was her love of coming to your rescue.

“Sick ball skills Ducky,” Tobin clapped you in the back.

“Thanks!” You squeaked, the stream of water missing your mouth and spraying Christen in the chest. “Oops,” You giggled.

“If you want me to kiss you, you did it have to get me all wet, you could just ask,” She winked and you felt heat wash over your cheeks, all your previous confidence evaporating.

Mal covered her ears and shook her head fast. “Please don’t answer that with the comeback you’re thinking of,”. You smirked, shaking your head. You wouldn’t force her to bear her best friend and her team mom flirting.

“Hmm, I love your kisses,”

Christen giggled, wrapping her arms around your waist, and pulling you into a quick kiss. You pulled away when the team wolf-whistled, burying your face in your girlfriend's chest.

“Told you she wasn’t embarrassed,” Mal said, patting your back.

“Yeah, how could she when you put everyone on their ass,” Sonnett cackled. Your groan was muffled by your girlfriend's soft skin. Her fingers found their way under your chin, coaxing you out of your favorite hiding place. You Y/e/c eyes met her green ones.

“You thought I was embarrassed?” She asked softly, and you gave her a slight nod. How couldn’t she be? She was the Christen Press and you were just a bumbling college student who would lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her body.

“You’re you, and you have everything together, and I’m me and I forget everything,” You mumbled, shrugging.

“Well, I love you, even when you forget stuff. Plus, You look really cute in my clothes,” She kissed your nose and your cheeks before landing on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, enjoying the way her soft lips felt against yours.

It didn’t matter that you were younger. You would prove yourself to be an asset to the team and Christen loved you.

“Did they forget we’re here?” Emily’s whisper read followed by a slapping sound and Lindsey’s voice.

“Way to ruin a moment Sonnett,”

Yes. You were a mess, but you were Christen’s mess and you’d fit right in.

#christen press x reader #christen press imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines

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kaistarus · 4 years ago

Text

BitterSweet

Pairing: Itadori YuujiXReader

Words: 2.4K

Summary: How Yuuji makes his way into your life with brights smiles and shitty coffees

A/N: just in time for his b-day :3 i’ve loved this boi since before i even started jjk, so i’m glad I got to finally write for him lol

Masterlist

Bitter.

Bitter-with a hint of vanilla-was what you associated with Itadori Yuuji. His beaming smile at your first tutoring session forever connected with the pungent coffee he offered you.

You stared at the cup skeptically, “what is that?”

“Coffee?” Yuuji answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought every college student liked coffee.”

He wasn’t wrong, “but why did you get it?”

“Because you got up so early to help me,” Yuuji’s smile widened as he waved the drink around.

“Well I’m scheduled, so I would have been here whether you signed up or not.” You pointed out, glancing at the clock nearby that read too-early-in-the-morning and gestured for him to hand it over. He looked so pleased with himself that you were sure if he was a dog his tail would be going wild.

That was the only explanation you had for why you didn’t tell Yuuji it was the worst thing you’d ever tasted, hiding your full body cringes when he looked up after digging through his backpack.

“So, what are we doing first?” He asked excitedly, holding a creased notebook with uneven pages and a packed folder with papers hanging out. You stared at it wearily, but unfortunately he was far from the worst case scenario-a folder was huge compared to some you’d run into.

“I guess just give me your last exam and we’ll work from there.”

Yuuji chuckled awkwardly, fingering through the mass of papers in his folder before producing a packet marked heavily in red ink. You sighed at the single digit number at the top with a frowny face beside it.

Looked like you and Itadori Yuuji were going to be spending a lot of time together.

**************

“You’re overthinking it, Yuuji.” You rubbed your temples having spent the last thirty minutes working through the same problem with no success. You were beginning to lose all hope.

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “I’m supposed to figure out the probability of what movies were action movies, but how was she able to watch eighty movies in one week?”

“That isn’t the question.”

“It isn’t possible though!” He jabbed his eraser at the paper. “Did she sleep? I bet this Melissa chick fast forwarded or skipped.”

“Yuuji…”

“Can you go a full week without sleep? If she slept through some, are they part of the eighty?” He gripped his pink locks in frustration. “How do I know which she slept through? Is there a timeline?”

You deadpanned as he scanned the page stressfully like it was holding him hostage with its contents, “I don’t think they provide a timeline, no.”

“Sorry,” Yuuji sighed defeated, slouching forward to rest his chin on the library’s table. “I swear I’m trying.”

You leaned against your palm, eyes softening as he glared at the homework sheet under him. “Don’t apologize,” you slid the sheet from under his chin. “You’re my favorite session after all.”

“I am?” He perked up.

You rolled your eyes while circling a segment of the first word problem. “You can just make up wild backstories for each person. Melissa doesn’t have to sleep and can absorb movies abnormally fast or something.”

Yuuji blinked several times as his lips curved into a smile. “What about the guy who owns over four-hundred chickens?”

You forced down your own smile and shrugged, “he’s just lonely.”

Yuuji laughed, continuing down the page while spewing out ridiculous stories for the unfortunate names in the Stats problems. Your heart beat firm in your chest at how excited he was now while scanning the page. The ticking clock above you felt like a curse the closer it got to the end of your session.

You guessed you didn’t hate the mornings anymore if they were with him.

*************************

You tapped your pencil’s eraser impatiently on the booth's table. The smell of brewing dark roast drifting through the small cafe accompanied by the combined noises of workers preparing early risers beverages kept you from dozing off where you sat. Finally, after what felt like forever-probably a few minutes-Yuuji slid into the booth across from you and placed a mug in front of you.

“I can buy my own coffee, Yuuji.” You took the mug wearily, eyes darting around the near empty cafe you’d decided to meet at this week to ‘spice things up’ in his words. “People might get the wrong idea.”

“I didn’t think you cared about that stuff,” he said with a teasing smile that you returned with a half-assed glare. “It’s my payment for making me smarter.”

“I already get paid,” you pouted at the drink in your hands. “And you’re already smart. I just help you understand it.”

He didn’t respond and you glanced over, confused at his slack jaw expression.

“Oh,” he started shuffling through his backpack and you swore his cheeks were dusted pink. “Yeah, that-uh-makes sense.”

“Right,” you raised a brow at the weird response, but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. There wasn’t enough time in the world to question every random thing Yuuji did.

“What’s on the schedule today boss?”

“Your exam’s tomorrow,” you said, pulling some sheets from your own backpack. “I printed your practice exam since I’m guessing you didn’t know it existed.”

“Hey,” he pouted. “I didn’t, but still...”

You snorted, sliding the packet across the table. “Just do the ones you can and I’ll help with the rest.”

He saluted you, unnecessarily scribbling his name across the top before getting to work-his tongue poking out adorably while his eyes scanned the words intensely. You felt your chest filling with an unfamiliar warmth as you watched him work and your hand drifted subconsciously toward the mug next to you.

You coughed, unprepared for the harsh flavor, only wiping the grimace off your face when Yuuji peered upward with an innocent head tilt. Your heart squeezed when you locked eyes too long with his dark hazel before a soft smile filtered onto his lips. You quickly dropped your stare, hoping that if you avoided looking at him you could avoid the weird feeling emotion rolling in your stomach as well.

***************

You slouched up the library's stairwell, pushing through the second story’s double doors that led to your usual reserved tutoring table. The school really needed to push back your start time-seven in the morning was way too early for any college student to effectively teach or learn anything. The only person ridiculous enough to continuously sign-up for this time was-

You gripped your backpack straps as strong arms wrapped themselves around your midsection, picking you off the ground without warning. An unwanted frightened squeal left your lips before you recognized Yuuji’s laughter behind you and you relaxed as much as you could with him spinning you around in a library half-full of people.

“What are you doing?” You glared at him over your shoulder, cheeks warm from embarrassment at the scene he was causing.

“I got a C!”

You blinked several times before prying his arms off you, “are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he slid his backpack off, digging around before offering you a crumpled up packet with a seventy-four and a smiley written on top. You stared at it with a growing smile and without thinking too much you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yuuji, this is amazing!”

“I know,” he laughed, encircling your waist awkwardly given your backpack. “My roommate didn’t believe me. She’s doing my dishes for a week thanks to you.”

You weren’t sure you felt good about that after seeing his level of disorganization, but you smiled back anyway. “I’m so proud of you.”

Which was true. Your chest was swollen near bursting with pride for him and he’d only gotten a C. You told yourself it was because of your own skills as a tutor, but had you ever been this excited for someone?

“Hey, we should celebrate.” Yuuji stuffed the exam back into his bag. “Do you wanna-”

“Can you guys quiet down?” a guy with four crushed energy drink cans and food wrappers laying haphazardly around him asked. “I can’t focus and I just wanna go home, dude.”

“Sorry,” you whispered as warmth crept up your neck, turning Yuuji toward the exit as he stared at the guy in amazement. “We’ll leave you alone.”

“How long have you been here?” Yuuji asked in awe.

“Twenty-five… No, maybe eight...” The guy narrowed his eyes at the clock. “Time’s an illusion man.”

Yuuji nodded, impressed, shooting the guy a thumbs up as you pushed him toward the doors. Once in the stairwell you shot him a bright smile, “celebrate?”

He nodded excitedly. “We can get coffee!”

You turned away quickly to cover your panic, “or maybe anything else?”

Yuuji hummed, “I guess change can be nice.”

Your heart did a bizarre skip at the soft look in his eyes and you hurriedly started down the stairs without him. You spent more time that morning brushing off each reaction to Yuuji than enjoying your time with him. When everything was done you started thinking that you were having a hard time kidding even yourself.

**************

You and Yuuji had been working in silence for the past twenty minutes-the longest he’d gone without needing help since he’d signed up for tutoring. It was a great sign that for some reason had your stomach knotting uncomfortably.

“You’re doing really good,” you complimented, admiring the delighted smile he gave you.

“Yeah, I used what you said about note taking for lecture.” He showed you his notes that were beyond chaotic, but apparently worked for him. “I actually understand what’s going on now.”

“That’s great,” you looked down at your Chem problems and attempted to keep your tone light. “You probably won’t need tutoring soon if this-.”

You heard his pencil snap and looked up to find him staring holes through his paper. He seemed tense as he pressed his pencil roughly against the notebook and you wondered what word problem would’ve caused that reaction.

“Are you stuck? Do you want me to-”

“I like you.”

You paused mid-reach for his textbook and locked eyes with him, his cheeks flaring up a dark pink. You opened and closed your mouth several times before mumbling out a weak, “what?”

“And I don’t want you to tutor me,” he looked frustrated with himself when you tilted your head at his contradictory statements. “I mean, I do, but not always. I just want to spend time with you and not talk about Stats because I hate Stats, but I really like you.”

That weird feeling was back. The one where your chest felt tight and your heart was beating too quickly and your stomach sort of felt like you might throw up, but all in a good way and that made everything weirder. It was a lot and not enough and that made you nervous.

“I don’t know, Yuuji.” You lied.

“That’s okay,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No pressure. I just sprung it on you, so I don’t blame you.”

You nodded, watching him dig around his bag for a second pencil while grumbling about organizing that you knew would never happen. Your heart ached in your chest as you watched him continue working casually, playing off whatever happened.

...but you weren’t sure you could do the same.

************

This was a terrible idea.

You swung your legs, perched atop a railing across from a building that Yuuji was currently taking his midterm. It didn’t matter how you got that information-accessing his schedule with the few perks your job gave you-all that mattered was you had five minutes to figure out what you were going to say to him.

This wouldn’t even be an issue if he hadn’t skipped tutoring a few days ago. You weren’t sure if he thought you hated him or if he was regretting confessing to you, but either way you needed to talk to him before your window closed.

If only any of the speeches you could think of weren’t absolutely humiliating. Three minutes now? That should be enough time for you to at least get the beginning-

“(Y/N)?”

Your head whipped to the side so fast you're sure you got whiplash, dumbfounded that Yuuji was standing there with his head cocked to the side.

“You finished early,” you said, face warming at his growing confusion. “Not that I would know that.”

“Right.” He gave you a once-over. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Uh,” your nose crinkled while searching for a reasonable excuse. You sighed when you came up empty. “You skipped tutoring.”

Yuuji’s eyebrow rose and he waved his hands around. “I accidentally slept through it.” Then you noticed the gears started turning in his head and you began shrinking in on yourself. “You came here because I skipped a lesson?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were going to keep skipping,” you avoided his eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “It’s a bad habit.”

He knew you were full of shit. You could tell by the way he was forcing down a smirk when you stared at your feet. This would obviously be going so much better if you had those three minutes to prepare.

“Thanks for checking in,” he smiled, fishing around in his pocket and holding out his phone. “We should probably exchange numbers so you don’t have to go through all this trouble next time.”

You eyed the phone and rolled your eyes, “makes sense.”

He looked overjoyed when you took it from his hands. Your heart felt like it would pound out of your rib cage while he watched you create your contact, your fingers shaking slightly under the pressure.

“As an apology, I should probably take you to get food too.”

You paused, looking up at his hopeful gaze before nodding shyly. “That seems fair.”

The smile that overtook his face was probably the largest you’d ever seen and your heart nearly exploded when he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the building. You probably should have seen this coming the moment you began looking forward to your morning shifts with him. As he dragged you down the street you found yourself not caring where he took you-you knew you’d be happy as long as he was with you.

#itadori yuuji #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji fluff #yuji x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #itadori x y/n

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alfredosauce50 · 4 years ago

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Method to my madness [Yandere! Switzerland x reader]

Word count: 4,144 Warning: NSFW content later in the fic. There will be a warning line before it starts, and another line to indicate its conclusion. So skip it if you don’t want to read it.

Synopsis: As a stereotypical Swiss, he never did anything unplanned and worshipped punctuality. But when it comes to you, he’d throw that all away and show up to your door unannounced. In another country. And in the middle of the school term. Why? Because he can. Because he doesn’t trust your neighbors, your raunchy one in particular. He was the polar opposite to him—lazy, sloppy, and disorganized. So when he tries to invite you to a party, Basch makes it a point to stop you from going—even if that entails doing exactly what he accused him of. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Crunching numbers occurred to him like second nature. Anything that could be explained in a book, he understood like the back of his hand. In fact, he didn’t have much trouble doing anything at all, but when it came to you, every fiber of his being would clam up. His infallible logic betrayed him like he never had any in the first place. Now was one of those times as he boarded a flight bound for California.

As he made himself comfortable in his seat, he gave the passengers around him a quick study. Already, they were stripping themselves of their outer layers. Windbreakers, jackets, coats, you name it. A middle-aged man removed his hoodie to reveal a T-shirt underneath, and with big, bold letters spelled ‘USA’, which popped out around his belly as if to emphasize it. A single thought occurred to him as he looked away with furrowed brows. Tourists.

They had their fun, and were on their way home, starting with preparing for the sweltering heat of Californian Summer. He folded his arms together and sank into his chair. He’d remove his knit later. At the moment, he had a more pressing issue in his hands. What was he supposed to say when he’d show up at your door without notice?

Hi, I felt a dire need to visit you all the way in America in the middle of your semester when I heard you were living in a dorm. But that’s not all. It would’ve been fine until you sent me a selfie with a guy in the background holding a peace sign. Then that other photo showing a different guy using your toaster. Which implies that there are numerous guys living with you. In other words, people I don’t trust alone with you.

So here I am.

Surely, that wouldn’t fly.

You’d known him as a man who had his whole life planned out in a diary. And this was hardly planned. It was spontaneous, even. Basch Zwingli, the stereotypical Swiss who looked at the clock for things to do, was being spontaneous? Hell may as well freeze over at this point. To say this would surprise you was given, but he didn’t see anything wrong with this, per se. He probably would’ve done this to Lilli, but the thing was, he wouldn’t have ever let her study abroad by herself in the first place.

She was his baby sister, but you weren’t. And that was probably why he was at your doorstep. He couldn’t oppose your choice of study, but he could sure as hell be part of it.

He knocked a few times. He could barely make out the faint ‘just a second!’, but the sound of the voice was so familiar, he froze up. But that wasn’t quite right. Hearing Lilli’s voice never made him feel this way. The door creaked open to reveal a less than presentable girl in her pajamas, an oversized shirt, and she had the messy bed hair to go with it.

And when you saw who your visitor was, the droop in your eyes disappeared.

“Basch!? Oh my god--what are you--” You could barely talk as disbelieving laughs fell from your lips. “I can’t believe it’s you! I almost couldn’t recognize your face because I didn’t expect you at all!” Reaching out to give him a tight embrace, he returned the gesture with a gentler hug.

His arms were slow to wrap around your form, but to even have your affection reciprocated at all spoke volumes of how he was feeling. It had been nearly half a year since he saw you last, and to realize he was spoiling himself with an unannounced visit sent chills down his spine. He really was pushing the envelope with this one. But he had a gut feeling he wouldn’t regret this at all.

When you pulled away, he caught you gleaming at him with the brightest of smiles. It was so infectious, he felt a light tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m here if that convinces you.”

You grinned. “What are you even doing here? My break doesn’t start until a month later! But I can say this is a good time you caught me in. I only have one more final to pull through.” Pulling him into your humble abode, you barely made it into the hallway when you failed to hear the sound of wheels. So you paused. “... Basch, where’s your stuff?”

Confusion contorted at your expression, but you looked more worried than anything. It would’ve made sense if he was planning to stay at a hotel, but that wasn’t possible. He’d rather sleep on the ground than spend hundreds of dollars for accommodation, and what was the point of visiting if he wasn’t under the same roof as you? He tensed up as he confronted how truly out of character he’d been acting.

Shit. Even he was shocked that he failed to bring the most fundamental of things for this trip. When he bought his ticket, nothing went through his mind besides the need to see you. It took up so much of his brain, it managed to block out the concept of a suitcase. Packing for a trip that was to last for months. How was he supposed to explain himself? “... They lost my suitcase on the way here.” Perfect.

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you nodded in understanding. “Ah, that’s too bad. I’m sure they’ll find it for you, though. Otherwise, they’re gonna have one hell of a lawsuit.”

“... But where’s Lilli?”

Why was his sister not with him when they were practically sewed together by the hip? And for such an important visit, no less. But he came prepared in case you’d ask. “Lilli’s not here because she had school. And I saw that tickets were the cheapest during this time so I decided to come early.”

At the sound of that, any traces of worry left your face and you burst into a fit of laughter.

“Of course you did, you cheapskate. I was always wondering which trait of yours was the strongest, but now I know.” Blood rushed up to his cheeks and he forced himself to look away. But when he felt your hands settle on his shoulders, he slowly turned to you. He didn’t even know if he was supposed to regret that action, because in that very second, he realized he was wrapped around your finger.

“I’m just kidding, Basch. There’s nothing wrong with saving money. And if that means you get to visit early, I’ll love you for it.” You cracked a tender smile at him this time around, and seeing that look on your face while listening to you talk had him wondering if he was even breathing at that point.

It was almost terrifying how easily he could lose his head around you. And he thought he had a good one on his shoulders. Everyone did. How come he could barely even think straight when it came to you?

“... Right.” He tipped his head forward to let his bangs fall in front of his face. It was a gesture that was almost shy in nature, but his action revealed a small ponytail on the back of his head, which of course, stole your attention away in an instant.

You gasped to emphasize the discovery. “Aw, did you tie your hair up? It looks so good! Everyone’s gonna be asking about you now!” Giving him a teasing elbow, you watched his expression morph into dismay. “Hey, I promise it’s a good kind of curiosity. College has us all swarmed and we’re dying for something out of the ordinary. My friends will be excited to meet you!”

“Why, because I’m… European?”

“Are you asking that because I complimented your hair?” He heard a soft snort from you. “I’m from the same town as you, dummy. I think I’d count as European as well. But that’s probably what they’ll be so interested about.” That was right. “If they find out about you, they won’t stop asking about if we’re… You know what.” Your voice strained a little and you looked embarrassed, even.

He blinked. For someone so high-strung about you, he could sometimes miss the key points.

“I’m having a hard time following. About what?”

You sighed and pushed his cheeks together to muffle his words. “Why do you always have to make me say everything, hm? They’ll obviously ask if we’re dating. You’ve never met them because they always go elsewhere during the break, but everyone will be here this time.”

By everyone, he assumed that included peace-sign guy and toaster-leeching guy. Immediately, he frowned with the most potent kind of disdain he ever felt. To think they spent most of the year with you was almost disheartening. But he didn’t need to remind himself they were the reason he was here. Basch could admit he was an oblivious person at times, but he wasn’t ignorant to the promiscuous sex life in college. The men here were wolves, so he had to see for himself if he could really leave you alone here.

But he had a feeling he wouldn’t be leaving your side anytime soon.

If that was going to give your friends the wrong idea, or perhaps, the right idea about you two, then so be it. He even wanted them to assume things. Even if he didn’t think much of it, flying all the way here for an impromptu visit was more than enough to get mouths moving.

He had yet to be on the same page as them. To realize that maybe, what he was doing wasn’t because you were like a little sister to him--like Lilli--someone to be protected. Or rather, someone he had strong feelings for. But given enough time around these so-called friends of yours, he’d learn it the hard way. And who better to press his buttons than your raunchy next-door neighbor?

The day after his unexpected arrival, he’d encounter this very neighbor who found the leisure in swinging by for a visit. Basch had his hands full with dishes in the sink when a few knocks were heard. He was generous enough to make lunch and clean up, though you had to wonder if doing chores was how he’d repay the debt from all the things you had to buy for him.

He never moved from where he stood as he could already hear you scrambling to answer the door. When it creaked open, a low and playful laugh greeted you. “There’s my girl.” My what now? Turning his head to the newcomer, he felt a pang of annoyance when he saw a man lean in from the doorframe. Said man reached out to give your hair an affectionate ruffle, and immediately, Basch decided he didn’t like him.

“Mornin’. Did ya eat yet? I was gonna go to a cafe for some grub. The one that has those killer vegan pancakes. Wanna come with?”

You hummed in disappointment. “Sorry, Al. I just ate. Maybe if you came in a little earlier, I would’ve been able to come.” Placing your hands on your hips, you placed emphasis on what you later added. “It’s two.”

No, he hated him. From that brief exchange and study of his physical appearance, he knew he was practically the polar opposite of him. A lazy, good-for-nothing slob. He had two full sleeves of tattoos. Piercings decorated one of his eyebrows, and as he spoke, he saw a small silver ball on his tongue. His fiery red hair wasn’t even long, but it was still unkempt as if he just rolled out of bed and didn’t bother checking the mirror. But then again, he did greet you with ‘morning’. Basch tightened his ponytail and made his way over to you, disgruntled. “...”

Sensing his presence by your side, you patted him on the back. “This is Basch, by the way. The friend I told you about.” When you exchanged looks with Basch, your smile faltered when you saw his expression. He looked almost upset, though you hadn’t the faintest idea why.

You figured you’d ask later.

The stranger was fast to acknowledge him, and with great enthusiasm at that. “Ohh, you’re the dude who flew over from Finland or something!” His striking ruby eyes widened with fascination, and he was grinning from ear to ear. “Wow, you’re pretty high-strung bout’ her, aren’t you? Makes the two of us.”

High-strung about you? Of course, he was--whatever the hell that meant. “... Switzerland.” The blonde clarified, to where Allen merely shrugged. “Close enough.”

While you laughed off his playful jibes and apparent forgetfulness, Basch couldn’t humor him. Between him and your neighbor, they were probably completely serious about the high-strung bit. He could tell in that brief side-eye Allen gave him, almost as if he was trying to stir some kind of reaction.

So be it. Two could play at this game. Unbeknownst to your raunchy friend, Basch could be just as outspoken.

“Anyways--” Rolling his head to you, Allen shot you an expectant look. “So… What’s your answer, doll? To the party this Friday? Is it a yes or a yes?”

“She’s not going.”

Your lips separated agape to answer, but he beat you to it. His invitation was shot down just like that. Shock widened your eyes and you gawked at Basch. You knew how protective he could get, exceedingly so, but it never got to the point of canceling plans without discussion.

“What do you mean, I’m not going? Basch, it’s fine!” You exasperated, but his only response was to squeeze your hand.

Something was wrong, for sure.

“... Yeah, it’s not like anything‘s gonna happen. Not when I’m around. So what’s the big idea, man?” Allen folded his arms disapprovingly. A shrewd light glinted in his eyes when he was struck with an idea. “If you’re so worried, you can just come with. Even though you’re not her boyfriend—”

Basch felt himself go red in the face. From both anger and mortification—because Allen was right.

“... Fine. I will go with her.” He relented, albeit reluctantly. Hardening his stare at the tanned figure, someone who sounded more persistent than he liked, he let his tongue slip. “And it doesn’t matter I’m not her boyfriend. I’m still her best friend, and I care about her more than you do.”

It was a given from how long you’ve been this close to him. But that didn’t change the fact blurting that out was unlike him. It left you in a blushing tizzy to hear him explicitly say those things, and you grew hyper-aware of his iron grip on your hand.

Being protective was one thing. But when was he possessive?

Allen laughed. “Yeah, yeah. You can flex that label all you want.” Making a move to leave by turning his feet, his lips curled up into a mischievous smirk. “I don’t want it. Not when a better label’s up for grabs. Boyfriend. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Shooting you a wink to reduce you into a stuttering mess, he took his leave.

And when he did, Basch lost his shit.

“How long have you been friends with that guy? Can’t you see he’s just trying to get into your pants? He’ll probably stop being so nice to you once he does!” He fumed, taking both your hands into his as if to secure you in place. But really, you weren’t going anywhere. Not when you were about to receive the biggest lecture of your life. “You can’t hang around people like that, (F/N). You can’t trust him.”

You hung your head as a frown downturned your features. There was some truth to his words, especially when the man he spoke so ill of was a fairly new friend of yours. It was a shame to say the least because you did like having him around, but that wasn’t the biggest concern of yours at the moment. “You’re right… Kinda… I just really liked him as a friend, so I didn’t wanna say no…”

That didn’t come out right.

He thinned his lips as a grim expression contorted at his face. “... Did he do anything to you?”

You shook your head profusely. “No! God, no, of course not! Sorry, I put it weirdly. Nothing happened, really.”

Basch sighed, reaching out to pinch the bridge of his nose.

His bangs fell over his eyes to hide them. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this worked up over you, over a guy at that, but then again, he was beginning to suspect there was a little more to it than that. “... Okay. So are you gonna go to the party?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll probably go if you come with me, so…” With your free hand, you held onto the hem of his shirt. When he caught sight of the look you had on your face, he stopped breathing all over again. “I can tell something’s wrong with you. You looked really upset just then, and it’s not like you to just snap like that.”

He released you to dig through his hair, loosening the once tight strands pulled back in his ponytail.

That was right. Since when was he so possessive?

So jealous?

He bit his lip and looked positively defeated. As he fixated on the ground to avoid your gaze, he felt your hand gently cup his cheek, forcing him to look up at you. “It’s not like you to suddenly show up out of the blue, either. So tell me, why did you actually come here?”

Basch furrowed his brows and screwed his eyes shut. “... I don’t know. I just wanted to see you. That’s all.” You softened your gaze at that, feeling your chest swell up with warmth. He was always brutally honest, but he was more ambiguous when it came to how he felt.

So to hear him admit his troubles so easily had you almost worried about him.

As if he sensed this worry, he offered you a small smile of reassurance.

“Don’t worry about me. I swear there’s nothing wrong.”

Or that was what he wished, at least, because he was far from okay.

To make things worse, Allen wasn’t patient enough for today because he dropped by two more times after meeting Basch for the first time. Nearly a week had passed since then. This only proved his suspicions—that all he wanted was to get in your pants—and it left Basch positively restless. So restless that he couldn’t leave you alone.

It was finally Friday, and you were in your room browsing for outfits for the night. The man was sleeping like a log in your bed, and after a few unsuccessful attempts at waking him up, you decided to change with him in the room. How he ended up in your sheets wasn’t anything out of character, per se.

In the previous few days, he followed you around everywhere you went. That, you were perfectly fine with, but sleeping in your bed? He was pushing it. Despite your valiant efforts to get him back into the guest room, it was unparalleled to his own determination. What could you say? He was as stubborn as a mule. That statement would manifest into reality as he stirred awake.

Sitting up with the worst bed hair you’d ever seen, you found yourself covering your chest instinctively as he stared dead into your eyes with his own drooping ones. “Basch! Sorry, um, I couldn’t wake you so I decided to just…” Blood rushed up to your cheeks as he continued to stare, wordlessly. “Basch?”

You watched him slide off the mattress and saunter over. Holding your wrists and lowering them, he exposed your bra, but he never gave you the chance to complain. Instead, he loomed his head over yours and glowered at you. “You’re not going.”

Goosebumps pricked all over your skin when his hot breath fanned over your lips, and you were much too taken aback by his closeness to object. In fact, his face was so close, his nose was brushing against yours. “Wait, what are you--” Your whispers were cut off abruptly when he sealed your mouth with his.

He was kissing you. Albeit innocently as he parted frequently, pecking your lips over and over again. As gentle as he was, he still left you breathless, but flustered and confused all the same. But you didn’t have the heart to push him off you as your mind raced with questions. Why was he doing this? Had he always felt this way? There was a tenderness in his touch that told you he had.

But why didn’t he ever tell you?

When he finally parted, he kept his forehead pressed against yours. “Just tell him you’re not interested.” He frowned. “Say you already have a boyfriend. I’ll pretend if I have to.”

Because he’d been denying it.

“But--” Basch kissed you again, leaving a silvery strand of saliva connecting your lips as he parted. Your chest was rising and falling in a fervent manner as you struggled to breathe--the same plight he’d been facing for a while. Frankly speaking, you were at a loss from how much control you let him have over you. But you never tried to push him away. At this point, the throbbing in your chest had completely shattered your resolve. “--why are you kissing me if we’re pretending? There’s nobody here but us.”

His cheeks reddened before he tugged you along to your bed. Seating you on his lap, he attached his hands to your waist and squeezed it, making you yelp out in surprise. “If you’re letting me kiss you, then how are we pretending?” You blushed at that, realizing you had just as much of a part to blame.

Leaning in at that, he fanned his breath over your lips. “It just means it’s real.”

He still wasn’t processing the weight of his actions and just how out of line he was acting. But then again, he never did either of those things when it came to you. And it wasn’t like you were stopping him, either. So really, you were just as guilty for letting things go out of hand. Though you had to wonder if this was how things were supposed to be, especially when you continued kissing him in his lap.

*NSFW content ahead*

Said kissing escalated along with the heat of your bodies, all until he had his tongue in your mouth.

He never realized how much he’d wanted this until he had you under him, squeezing his neck as he left lovebites all over yours. Then, he made his way down to your shoulder and collarbones, chewing on your flesh until he memorized the taste of you. But he couldn’t say he was satisfied. Not until he truly crossed your boundaries and went all the way.

That was where this was going, after all.

Rather than going to that party Allen invited you to, you spent the whole night having sex with Basch. To say it was a psychedelic experience was an understatement.

As he held you down to make love to you, letting his arousal curve deep into your walls at every strong thrust he gave, he had you writhing in pleasure so good, the last remnants of your sound mind were completely destroyed. So while you would’ve been fussing about the fact he didn’t use any protection, you couldn’t, not when he fucked you silly.

To him, this was a culmination of everything he wanted. To have you for himself. And this rampant desire was so potent, it inundated him. Tugging apart the strands that held his self-control and reason together, he lost his head.

You never imagined he’d be so energetic and reckless in bed, even cumming inside you, twice, on purpose, when he was always so high-strung about safety. But as you found yourself on his thighs again, trembling as you sunk down to the base of his cock, you could watch him unravel with all sorts of animated expressions you’d never seen before.

Desperation, lust, and an aggressive infatuation as he bounced you on his imposing member. Bringing you close so he could bite your ear, you could hear the shivering in his breathing as he held back his moans. “You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes...” He whispered.

*NSFW content ends*

That was the first time you ever heard him curse, too. So maybe, you really were driving him crazy. This would become more apparent the next morning as he slept in past noon, something he hadn’t done in years.

And depending on if you’d remember or not, he’d buy you some morning-after pills.

Because something happening wasn’t a big concern of his.

In fact, it excited him.

#hetalia fanfiction #aph #aph switzerland #aph switzerland x reader #reader insert #x reader #switzerland x reader #yandere #yandere hetalia #yandere!switzerland #yandere switzerland #hetalia fanfic #hws switzerland #Axis Powers Hetalia #Axis powers ヘタリア

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veliseraptor · 3 years ago

Note

So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him.

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers.

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

#hope that was enough rambling for you anon jesus christ #confessions of a frustrated writer #i don't even know what to tag this #anonymous #conversating

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peachtree-dish · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 5: Acqua agitata

13 ottobre 1969

There were many things that Luca loved in Signora Mia’s casa, besides the woman herself. He had been fascinated for his first few weeks in Genoa exploring all her books, odds and ends, and souvenirs. When she had first separated from Massimo, Mia had traveled all over Europe spending time in Greece, France, and Whales. From each country, she’d brought home at least one object or decoration, each one holding a special story and memory. Being an artist meant that she had many paintings, most of which were created by her hand, and every wall had been hand-painted by her design. On one wall, in particular, she had painted a colorful homage to the coast of Porto Rosso, featuring Massimo’s house and a detailed view of the town square. This was Luca’s particular favorite, and often while both Mia and Giulia were sleeping at night, he’d sit in front of that mural and read, letting the bright colors wash away his homesickness.

While she was never to be seen without a paintbrush in hand, Mia was also meticulous about keeping her furniture and floors paint-free, any splotches or spills were lovingly restricted to her paint room. Said room opened as both Luca and Giulia walked down the hallway, shredding backpacks, and school jackets as they went.

“Already home, miei cari? The day went by fast!” Mia briskly wiped her paintbrush down and stuck it in the front pocket of her jumper. “Hey, you ragazzi know better than to leave your stuff in the hallway!” She danced around the dropped articles of clothing and made her way into the kitchen space, watching in amusement as both teens sheepishly put the cookie jar back on the counter, a large Amaretti stuffed in their mouths.

“Scusa,” they both mumbled. Luca was the first to return to the disorganized hallway, pressing a crumb-filled kiss to Mia’s cheek in greeting before running to take his things to his bedroom. Nerone yapped playfully at his feet, eagerly hoping for any sweet leftovers as the teen dashed into his room and threw his coat and book bag on the chair by the window. Unlike Giulia’s room in Porto Rosso, there was no direct view of the ocean, however, on clear days he could make out the familiar blue outline above the orange rooftops of Genoa. Today the skies promised rain and Luca briefly wondered if the storm had already hit Alberto and Massimo.

As he pulled the necessary work from his bag, a blue paper slipped out and fell gracefully to the floor. Picking it up, Luca was reminded of his gym teacher’s earlier announcement. The thought made him wince as he re-read the glaring title: Maturazione e salute sessuale. Luca had hoped that he had escaped such discussion from his family during the summer; apparently, he would not be so lucky at school. Deciding to leave the permission slip for later, he grabbed his schoolwork and left the paper on his bed. Luca and Nerone made their way back into the kitchen where Giulia was already sat and speaking animatedly to her mother.

“Signora Bianchi explained energy to us today in earth sciences and said that it can’t be destroyed, only transferred,” Mia nodded as she pulled out a large circular pan before lighting the oven. If his intuition was right, and it usually was when it came to food, that meant pizza.

“And in math, we’ve been adding l’alfabeto in our equations; I wish they wouldn’t do that, it makes everything more complicated,” Giulia groused, pulling out her own math assignments.

“It’s easy if you think about it as balancing the equation,” Luca suggested, unsurprised when Giulia responded by glaring at him across the table.

“But the equation doesn’t look unbalanced to me. Besides,” she rolled her eyes, “why do we care what x is? Maybe x doesn’t want to be found.” Luca snorted and returned to his writing assignment, absentmindedly scratching Nerone’s head as he thought.

“Ah, bambini, not to worry, in three short years you won’t have to worry so much, although,” Mia mused, pressing the dough onto the counter, “if you both study some form of science, I’m afraid math is a must.” She pressed a kiss to Giulia’s forehead when she groaned, laughing with mirth.

“Also, don’t forget that tomorrow is mail day, any letters you have, need to be ready to send and on the table before you go to school, si?”

“Grazie, Signora Mia,” Luca thanked, now thoroughly distracted from his assignment, and wondering how he was going to fit this week’s events into Alberto’s letter.

“How’s your painting, mama?” Giulia asked a few moments later, obviously avoiding the equations that remained blank on her page.

“Benissimo, amore mio, I think my customer will really like it, they wanted something unique, and I doubt they’ll be disappointed!” Signora Mia flipped her wooden spoon in hand and gently nudged her daughter’s shoulder with the handle. “However, I think your professore will indeed be disappointed if you turn in a blank assignment.” Well and truly defeated, Giulia glumly returned to her homework, her expression forlorn.

After trudging through homework and eating a delicious Margherita pizza, the small family of three gathered into the sitting room and played a few rounds of Scopa, Signora Mia’s favorite.

“Aha!” the artist crowed, slapping her cards down in victory, “I win, again!” Luca groaned in defeat, placing his cards next to Giulia’s he sat back and popped his neck. Giulia had resigned herself to fate long ago and simply accepted her loss with a sigh.

“I still think you have a secret strategy that you haven’t shown me yet, mama.” She grumbled good-naturedly. Her mother shrugged smugly as she cleaned up the cards.

“Or the divine simply has favorites,” Stretching her arms, Mia stood to diffuse the fire. “You both have everything you need for tomorrow, vero?” Giulia nodded while Luca paused.

“Actually, Signora, there’s a paper I need you to sign,” He tapered off, fingers twitching nervously. The woman stared blankly at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Ah, it’s part of my health class, I’ll go fetch it for you.” Ears burning, Luca quickly returned with the offending paper and placed it face down in Mia’s waiting hand. As her eyes alighted upon the title, sudden understanding filled her expression and she smiled sympathetically at the embarrassed teen. Giulia peered over her mother’s shoulder and frowned in confusion.

“How come I didn’t get one?”

“Your puberty course happened two years ago, tesoro, this is a continuation for everyone a few years older.” Mia patted Giulia’s face, which contorted into horror at the memory, “I imagine your sex education will start next year.” She mused, her eyes crinkling with unhidden amusement.

“No, grazie, that presentation was enough to last a lifetime, I don’t need to know more.” The small redhead made a face of disgust as she fled the room. “Good luck, Lu!” She called before closing her bedroom door with finality.

Luca and Signora Mia sat for a moment staring at each other, Luca growing redder with each passing second and Mia showing no inclination of saving him from embarrassment.

“So…” perhaps if he prayed hard enough, the ground would swallow him whole. Nerone snored unhelpfully at the side of his chair.

“So, cosa?” She was merciless. Luca’s head began to inch farther between his shoulders.

“Will you sign the slip for me?” he mumbled, eyes nailed to the colorful rug below him.

Mia broke the tension with a laugh, which startled Luca enough to look at her beaming expression.

“Well, the question is if you really want me to,” she motioned to the paper, “if we’re being honest, caro, they won’t teach you much. If you’d prefer, I can answer your questions along with Giulia, or you may go to the presentation with your classmates. The choice is yours, really.” She handed the slip back to him, and he bit his lip in thought as he scanned the dreadful title over with his eyes.

“I think I want to do a bit of both, but” he pressed his teeth harder into his bottom lip nervously, “I’d rather ask questions without Giulia if that’s all right?” Mia smiled warmly at him before nodding her consent.

“Molto bene, what would like to know? I’m not sure if things will be different for you because of your biology, but perhaps some things will cross over.” She sat back in thought and waited patiently for Luca to form his thoughts into words.

“Why don’t we start with what you know, hm?” She pressed gently. Ok, that shouldn’t be too hard, right? Luca felt his stomach drop as he thought.

“W-well, I know that eggs are formed from two mates and that males and females are physically different. That’s…that’s all I know I think.” His nerves started to fade as he thought about what information he had, his logical side pushing his emotions out of the way. “Oh, and I know that girls have their cycles every month to prepare their bodies for new eggs.” He had learned that particular lesson last year when Giulia’s cycle started for the first time. Luca remembered vividly how she had been in pain for nearly a week and often had to wash her clothes and sheets when the bleeding became too heavy. Giulia had learned over the year how to manage it better and be prepared, but Luca did not envy her one bit.

“Do female sea people experience cycles?” Mia interrupted. Luca screwed his face in thought; he couldn’t remember his mother or grandmother mentioning anything.

“I’m not sure, I think there has to be something similar, but I don’t think they have blood cycles.”

Mia hummed in thought. “Is that all you know?” She continued when Luca nodded.

“Well, that’s a good place to start. Maybe let’s talk about the basics, okay?”

They spoke for longer than expected and Luca surprised himself with how many questions he had the more Signora Mia explained.

By the time the first hand on the clock reached one, Luca’s eyelids had begun to grow unbearably heavy, and the fire had become a gentle glow of embers.

“Bene, I think it’s time we both head to bed, no?” Luca nodded his head gratefully. As he bid the older woman goodnight, he stopped short at his door and turned back to Giulia’s mother with renewed trepidation.

“Signora, one more thing?” The artist paused in turn, her bleary eyes focusing on the youth.

“Is it possible for two people of the same…well, the same gender to experience that kind of relationship?” His heart pounded as he waited for her response, and he felt as if his lungs had stopped working properly. The Signora’s eyes immediately sharpened into focus, her gaze appeared to see right through him, and Luca began to fear that she could read his mind.

Then, as if satisfied with what she found, the older woman’s gaze softened, and she smiled again. “Any form of love is a gift, Luca. And while some people may not accept such relations, it is not uncommon for men to find happiness with other men, nor for women to do so with other women. And” she smiled ruefully, “some prefer to not have any relations, sexual or romantic.”

Luca eased his grip on the doorframe and offered his thanks before he hurriedly closed the door. He pressed his back against the white wood, its coolness seeping through his shirt and into his flushed skin. He couldn’t quite admit why that specific question had tumbled out of his mouth, but throughout their conversation images of Alberto and him together had entered his mind and now refused to leave.

Groaning dejectedly into his hands, the brunette threw himself onto the bed and buried himself beneath the covers, begging his mind to stop.

22 Octubre 1969

Walking the hallways alongside Giulia often helped Luca feel grounded where he would otherwise feel distant and out of place. While those of his class were aware of his true form, other grades did not, and he preferred it that way. However, whether they knew or not, Luca often felt like the proverbial ‘fish out of water’, full pun intended. It wasn’t that anyone made him feel different or were unwelcoming, quite the contrary, but Luca couldn’t help but feel isolated at times. With Giulia being a grade younger, their only time shared was before school, during lunch break, and their time at home. The one person he did consider to be a friend and true ally, was Donte Castello, who was quite happy to accompany both him and Giulia in between classes. “Vero, but what was the point of tricking their families if they weren’t going to at least communicate the plan to each other? They could have easily lived and avoided the whole fiasco.” Dante pinched two thick fingers together in exasperation, his expression one of exaggerated disappointment.

“They had to be convincing! I’m not saying it was smart, but you have to admit that teenagers aren’t the best people to trust with secrets.” Giulia rolled her eyes as if this were the most obvious fact in the world. Dante dramatically slapped his hand across his forehead, pretending to faint.

“Are you calling me untrustworthy, Marcovaldo? I feel wounded,” He draped himself pathetically across Luca who stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden weight.

“Are you listening, Paguro? Will you not defend your favorite classmate?” Giulia snorted while Luca chuckled. He patted Dante’s back consolingly.

“I’m sure, you’ll make a quick recovery, Castello.” The taller boy pouted before returning to his upright position.

“Bene, now I know to not come to you when I need anything,” Dante grumbled. His pouting was cut short when a mass of black curls and dark skin ran right into his side. Being nearly the height of Massimo and on his way to being of the same build, Dante hardly budged from his spot. The torpedo that was unsuccessful in sinking his ship, however, had landed on the floor in a dazed heap.

Luca had never seen such curly hair in his life, which was saying something when one considered he knew both Alberto and Giulia. The girl blinked owlishly at the trio before her, her face panicked. She couldn’t have been much older than Giulia, with skin the color of rich coffee and eyes that shined like honey.

“Mi dispiace,” she squeaked, jumping to her feet, and flattening her clothes before ducking into a doorway next to them.

From down the hallway, students were ducking out of the way as a group of students made their way angrily through the corridors. Choruses of laughter followed them, and it soon became clear as to why. Two girls were drenched with water, their makeup creating colorful rivers down their cheeks and splotches on their shirts. The three boys next to them looked as if they had lost a fight with the school trash cans, their scowls just as terrifying as the smell. Luca and Giulia instantly stepped in front of the doorway, further shielding the mystery girl from sight. Once they passed, Dante turned around to face the quivering youth, his arms crossed.

“I don’t suppose that mess had anything to do with you, eh ragazza?” The girl winced when three pairs of eyes focused on her, and she shrank even more.

“They were trying to hurt me,” she mumbled.

“What would a bunch of upperclassmen want with you?” Dante narrowed his eyes disbelievingly. The young girl jutted her chin out defiantly and glared back. “Let’s just say I’m different and they didn’t like that. Are you going to be just like them?”

Luca raised his hands and placed himself between them, not wanting to start any more drama before lunch. “E abbastanza, ragazzi. No, we’re not like them,” he stared pointedly at Dante, who eventually relaxed and shrugged his shoulders in surrender. “I’m Luca Paguro, these are my friends, Giulia Marcovaldo and Dante Castello.” The teen offered his hand, and the girl reluctantly shook it, her expression of distrust clear.

“Luisa Corallina, piacere.”

“You’re new aren’t you? I thought I saw you in the first period.” Giulia asked, her head tilted in contemplation. Luisa nodded reluctantly, her gaze uneasy.

“I… my family just moved here from Sicily this week.”

“Woah, that’s a long way, it must’ve taken you forever to drive that far.”

Luisa merely lifted her shoulder in response, her anxiety only increasing. Luca nudged her empathetically, he knew what it was like to prefer privacy.

“Well, you’re welcome to hang with us-”

“There you are you little puttana!” A furious voice interrupted the group, and Luisa turned pale when she heard the screech.

The group of soaked and smelly teens had returned, their expressions were mutinous. The girl with shoulder-length blonde hair whipped her hand out, pushing Luca aside in the process, and snatched Luisa by the arm. Her soaked touch instantly turned Luca’s arm blue with scales, much to his chagrin.

“I’m going to make you pay for your little magic show stunt, witch.” Luisa bared her teeth, which suddenly appeared to be sharper. Before Luca could step in, Dante was already using his large stature to separate the two girls from one another.

“Calmati, Aurora. I’d hate to see this get ugly.” Dante stared down the furious teen, who scowled in return.

“Stay out of this, Castello,” One of the older boys spoke. He isn’t quite as big as Dante, but he stood at least a foot taller. “This little urchin needs to be taught a lesson.” He leaned over imposingly. Dante rolled his eyes and merely scoffed.

“If a puny freshman can cause that much damage to a bunch of upperclassmen, I think it’s you five who need a lesson. Get on your way before I tell my mother about this, I’m sure she’d be happy to discuss this and your future program applications in her office.” He raised an eyebrow at the unsettled group, his stance unmoving. They were saved by a response when the bell rang, signaling the start of classes. Auror stomped her foot angrily before pointing a finger at Dante.

“You keep that witch away from us. If I catch her alone, it’s over.” She sliced a finger across her neck menacingly before being pulled away by her shorter friend. When they finally disappeared for good, the group heaved a collective sigh of relief.

“I wonder if she’s related to Ercole. I had no idea there’d be two empires of evil to destroy.” Giulia mused.

“What is it with girls being so dramatic,” Dante asked, looking rather bewildered. Giulia slapped his arm indignantly with a shout of “hey!”.

“That just proves my point!”

Ignoring the bickering behind him, Luca turned back to Luisa, intent on checking she was okay, only to find her staring blankly at his arm. To his horror, his arm was still damp, and his scales glistened under the damp white fabric of his arm.

“I-it’s just a birthmark!” He squeaked, instantly wishing he could slap himself. What kind of sane person would believe that?! “You’re just like me,” Luisa whispered, her golden eyes turned hopeful.

“What?” Luisa pushed her own arm towards him, pink scales formed perfectly beneath a handprint.

“Mostro marino,” Luisa breathed.

“Ah, merda, here we go again.” Dante groaned.

#a te che sei il mio grande amore #my fic #luberto #luca and alberto #luca x alberto #alberto x luca #alberto scorfano #luca paguro #luca fanfiction #ocs #coming of age #mutual pining #idiots in love #queer romance #queer fanfiction #queer writers

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korra-the-red-lion · 3 years ago

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Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 23: And So It Went

Hey everyone, this is the last chapter of the first series! I do have plans for a sequel in the works, however! Thank you for anyone who has read it this far!

(Ally)

Surprisingly, I didn’t fail all my exams.

Actually, I did pretty well on most of them. I somehow passed Drama with a good mark. The sub who took over was pretty chill during the exam and let us bring all of our notes. My other exams weren’t too bad either. All and all, a pretty successful end to term.

I was just about finished with my packing when I got a text from Lyn. Sarah had already gone home, since her last exam had been two days ago. I took one last look around the room before heading out. I could finish packing later.

The weather outside actually wasn’t terrible today. It was a pleasant sunny day with barely any wind chill. I tucked my chin into the top of my coat as I walked across the campus to meet up with my girlfriend. A happy tingle went through my body as thought about that. It was a little silly to still get excited about the thought, but hey, why not be happy?

Lyn stood in the archway that connected Harper and the library together. She was leaning against the wall when I got there, scrolling through her phone. The bandage was off her face now, only faint lines to show where she had been cut. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and she gave me a quick kiss.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you,” I said back.

“Ready to go?”

I nodded. She held her arm out and I looped mine through it. Together we walked over to the big tree in the middle of campus, where Michael was waiting for us. His plane left tonight but he wanted to be here for it. He waved when he saw us, and he laughed when Lyn held her other arm out with a smirk. He wasted no time on grabbing a hold of it, Lyn laughing along with him as he did.

I knew Dahlia was intrigued by what we were doing as we walked together down the path to where the Swan Pond was. I waved to her with my free hand, and she ended up trailing after us, curiosity bright in her eyes.

When we got there, we all untangled from one another and got to work. Dahlia sat on the bridge nearby and watched as we cleaned away snow and ice from a spot under one of the trees that hung over the pond. After all the snow was gone, Lyn put down a bundle of flowers. Michael tucked a stone with a beautiful design cut into it in front of the roots, making sure it was secured. I hung one of our old amulets over the stone and gently nailed a wooden plaque onto the tree. We stepped away and admired our work.

Here Lies The Forgotten Students

We remember who you are, and what you did for us. We know that society failed you when they stopped asking questions. No one should have given up on any of you. To David, we know your story. To Amelia, we know your truth. To Jamieson, we know your tale. To Fiona, we know your reality. To Fredrik, we know your narrative. We’re sorry that it took this long before someone finally learned what happened to you all, but at least you can rest easy now, knowing that the person who did this to you has met his justice. All we can hope for you now is that your next chance at life is better than this one was.

With all our love,

Spook Searchers.

“We really need a better name,” muttered Lyn.

“Hey, we’ve been through too much for us to change it now,” said Michael with a waggle of his fingers. “That would be like, sacrilegious.”

“Besides, it’s a fun name. It hides away all the horrible truths and traumas that were inflicted on us,” I pointed out.

Lyn shrugged indifferently. “I just hope we never have to do something like this ever again. I need it scrubbed from my mind.” We both nodded in agreement.

Dahlia drifted over and knelt in front of our makeshift grave. I could see her mouthing the words as she read along. Her fingers ran over the names of the departed, her eyes sad. She dropped her hands and sat there quietly for several minutes without saying a word. When she looked back at me, she was smiling through her tears.

“This is quite lovely. I’m glad you all did something nice for them, they deserved it.”

I nodded at her. “Of course. And we intend to figure out who caused your death as well. We haven’t forgotten about you either.”

Dahlia’s eyes went wide before she looked away. I saw her brush away the tears from her face and nod slowly. “Thank you. It truly means a lot to me.”

We left her alone after that. I spared a look back as we left and saw her kneeling in front of the grave, her head down and hands clasped in prayer. We walked back to the library together and decided to get one last warm drink together. Lyn paid for all of us, even though we both argued against it. The lady behind the counter laughed as we both tried our best to push Lyn out of the way, which ended in absolutely failure.

“You can’t beat these gains,” Lyn said with a wink.

We sat down at the table in the back and looked out the window. I thought about what a crazy 3 months this has been. I couldn’t believe how so much had happened in such a short time. Not only solving all those murders but dealing with all the school crap on top of it all. I felt like I was the same person I was at the start, but more mature now. Someone who liked who she was, someone who liked that she wasn’t ordinary.

“You’re gonna have some crazy jetlag, you know,” Lyn said to Michael as she sipped her hot chocolate.

Michael sighed. “Yeah, probably for a day or so. It’s not like, a terrible flight but it’s bad enough. What are you doing for the holidays?”

I saw the twitch of Lyn’s eyes before she looked down at her drink. “I’m gonna stay with Olivia for the first bit of the break, but after Christmas I’m heading to Florida for training camp. I’ll be back like, 2 days before the new term. So, not the most relaxing break but it’ll be fun.”

Michael nodded as he looked at me. “What about you, Al?”

“Going home,” I said with a smile. “I’m going to sleep for the entire break. Maybe watch some movies and TV. But me and this brain deserve a big break.” I poked at my temple.

“Yes, it does!” Michael slapped his hand against the tabletop.

We chatted for a little while longer before Michael had to head back to grab his things. His buddy offered to drive him to the airport, but it was a bit before his flight. Still, better to wait in the airport than spend money on a taxi. Lyn gave him a hug and slap on the back. I gave him a big hug and kissed him on the cheek.

“Have a good flight, I’m going to miss you,” I said.

“It’s only for a few weeks,” he said with a smile. “Plus, you can always call me. You know where I am.”

I nodded as we embraced one last time. Michael waved to us as he walked backwards. I gasped when he tripped over his own feet and nearly landed on the casted arm. Luckily, he caught himself and shouted, “I’M OKAY!” before racing back to his room.

I chuckled to myself with a shake of my head. Michael was so chaotic at times. But that was something that I loved about him. He was authentic. I wasn’t lying when I said I would miss him. There was something calming about his presence. He was a good friend, and I was glad to have met him.

Lyn and I walked back to Lukas hand in hand. I noticed she was getting a bit of a far away look in her eyes again, so I squeezed her hand to bring her back. She blinked and looked down at me with a smile.

“Sorry,” she said with a shrug. “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

Lyn worked her jaw as she chewed on her thoughts before answering. “Lots of stuff, I guess. Training camp, Christmas with Liv, shit in general. It’s gonna be nice to have a break from it all. Then we’ve got the big championship meet to worry about when I get back. Just tryna make sure I’m organized because there’s a lot to remember.”

“It’s going to be fine,” I said soothingly.

“I know, I just like to be on top of things, you know?”

I laughed. “Nope! I’m pretty sure I only passed some of my classes by sheer luck. I handed in something for Anthro a week late, but I think my prof forgot I was even in the class, so she didn’t take points off.”

“Jesus,” Lyn shook her head with a playful smirk. “I can’t imagine being that disorganized. How’d you get through this term, let alone solve a crazy case? You’re something else, honestly. Like Wonder Woman or Supergirl.”

I blushed deeply. Lyn was always saying these really nice things about me and well…I wasn’t really used to them. I pressed up against her and buried my face in her arm, causing my glasses to go askew. Oh well, it’s not like I could see all that well anyway. Cold weather plus warm breath equals foggy glasses. Also, being compared to one of my favourite superheroes? I’m slightly dying of happiness on the inside.

When we got back to Lukas, Lyn helped me pack the rest of my things. It probably took the same amount of time that it normally would have because we kept stopping to kiss, cuddle, and I even got Lyn to watch an episode of Stargirl with me. It was really peaceful. A much better date than nearly getting killed by an out-of-control spirit. Hours passed by like seconds, and the next thing I knew, we were in bed sleeping.

The room was nearly pitch black as I stared up at the ceiling. Lyn was sleeping beside me, her arm tossed over my waist, snoring softly. I had been sleeping, but it came in fits right now. After everything we’ve been through, especially with that horrible horror realm or whatever the hell that had been, I’ve been having more difficulty sleeping through the night. I mean, I was sort of used to it, but not to this extent. My therapist and I were going to have a field day when I saw her next.

I turned my head slightly to look into the face of my girlfriend. I just wondered how it was all going to turn out. By some strange twist of fate, we got together because of my moral compass and curiosity. Lyn stuck around because she wanted to figure out what happened to her friend. I sometimes wondered what would have happened if she didn’t believe me that day in the café. Would I have gone through with it anyway? Would Michael and I have done it alone? I lightly traced my fingers across the scars of her arm, the ones she got because she protected me. It probably would be a different story then, huh?

All I know is this is how it turned out, and I don’t think I would have done anything differently. We got hurt, we got physical and mental scars. But I really think it was worth it to help those people. They were crying out for so long, waiting for someone, anyone, to hear them. I feel lucky in a way that I was the one who answered.

Finally, I felt my drifting off again. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me away, hopefully to a dreamless land.

XXX

Lyn helped me shove my last bag into the trunk of my dad’s car. I told her she didn’t need to stick around and help, but she told me it was no big deal. My dad nodded his thanks at her, and she nodded back. I stood by the car, fidgeting with the bottom of my coat. Lyn glanced at my dad one last time before she gave me a massive bear hug.

“Have a great break, Ally. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

I squeezed back as tightly as I could. “You too. I hope everything goes well with your sister.”

Lyn nodded, her cheek brushing against the side of my face. “Me too.” And even though my dad was still there, she cupped my face between her hands and kissed me. I blushed from the intensity of the kiss, feeling all the unsaid words. When she pulled away, I could see the emotion shining brightly in her eyes, her cheeks and ears bright red.

I kissed her cheek one last time before we untangled ourselves. I got into the passenger seat and waved to Lyn as we pulled away. She waved widely back the whole time, never stopping until I was out of view.

My dad instantly started to tease me the minute we were on the highway. I moaned and made a big show of telling him off, but I was really happy. It felt good, talking to my dad like this. As long as the topic of ghosts wasn’t brought up, we were good.

I didn’t know what next term had in store for us, but I was looking forward to it. We had to solve Dahlia’s murder, but at least we could take our time with it. There was no time limit, and hopefully no creepy murderer. There was a lot about this university, heck, even this town that was hidden beneath the surface. I wanted to learn so much more about it all. Sure, it was bad this time, but usually the ghosts are just lonely people who want to share their stories. I had this special gift, and it was about time I used it, instead of being ashamed of it.

After this winter break, I wanted to see what the future had planned for us.

#unnatural affairs #ua #ally holland #lyn hart #michael yamamoto #dahlia cressman #paranormal #murder mysteries #romance #wlw romance #ghosts #sapphic lead #original story #orginal writing #writing #final chapter

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broadwayandnetflix · 3 years ago

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Snickers Iced Coffee - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: FLUFFFFF

Request: how abt a fic where the reader is a barista & bo stays late at the coffeehouse while she closes bc he’s avoiding the weather (but is also using it as an excuse to chat her up)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: shy BO y’all. I am so sorry for the hiatus. sm shit has been going down and I’m currently in college. but more fics are coming soon. and thanks for requesting @likesthemoon

You eyed him from behind the counter with an amused expression upon your lips. His taller figure definitely making him stand out amongst everyone else.

“You do know we close in five minutes right?” you quip, your lips breaking into a slight grin.

His blue eyes widened at the prospect of being called on. It seems that he had been staring up at the chalkboard menu for quite some time now.

Besides, it wasn’t like rocket science; you worked in a small hideaway cafe in the city. The menu was simple, complete with your standard espresso drinks and teas, except for seasonal beverages.

Yet by the way he was going at it, it appeared as if mocha or caramel were life-altering decisions.

He’s lucky he’s cute, or you would be ready to kick him out the minute you neared close.

He was somewhat a regular in your shop, awkward but charming. Plus, he was tall, and Jenna, your coworker, knew how you liked taller men.

“Oh, I was just thinking about what to order.” he said, clearing his throat.

You cocked your head to the side, and he knew that you could see right through him. His eyes darting to the side, and you exhaled.

“Would you like some help?” you hum, checking your watch.

Three minutes till closing.

His blue eyes crinkled slightly as he shifted his weight to the side. It was apparent that he was anxious, of what you didn’t know.

“Oh, why not? What do you recommend?” he asked.

When it came to the world of Java, you weren’t technically an expert. However, with long event-less shifts came boredom, and thus produced experimental drinks. From the likes of Pinterest, but you’d never let anyone know that.

Now, this wasn’t no Starbucks, but you had to admit you came up with some pretty cool concoctions.

Would this man like said concoctions, you doubted it. However, it would get him a beverage, and you could shut down the cash register for the day.

“Do you like Snickers?” you said after some time.

“Like the candy?” he replied, curiosity in his brow.

“Yes, like the candy.” you deadpanned; he blushed.

“Um yeah, snickers are good.” he said quietly.

“Good, now hot or iced?” you asked as he picked an iced beverage.

Perfect, he was going to be the recipient of your snickers iced coffee. It was pretty simple actually, iced coffee complete with mocha, caramel, and hazelnut syrups. Topped off with a dash of cream, you went to work behind the espresso machine.

You stirred the coffee carefully to incorporate the syrups together, pressed a lid on top, and slid it his way.

He gave you a sheepish grin before giving it a sip.

“Holy shit that’s good.” he exclaimed before looking down at you, with a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“I know right. I came up with it the other day, or I attempted to make it the other day. It gets boring after awhile when the rush is over.” you admitted while you typed his order into the register.

He took that as notice to pull out his wallet and slipped you a twenty. Which was entirely out of the anticipated price range of the coffee.

You kinda gaped, eyes widening at the gesture, as he gave you a nervous smile. It was definitely a bold move giving you roughly a fifteen-dollar tip for a five-dollar coffee.

“Thank-thank you.” you said, not taking your eyes off of him, obviously shocked.

“Would you wanna go out some time?” he juts out, blue eyes staring intently at you.

You clamped your mouth shut and swallowed. Now you most definitely weren’t expecting this. I mean, would you want to go out with him?

Of course.

The man was practically a nervous wreck while he asked you out. Not so much suave as he had probably hoped.

“You don’t have to- I mean. I don’t know I just think you are so pretty, and I-“the man’s words sloppy and disorganized.

You could see the sweat accumulating upon his forehead, and in a way, it was cute, endearing almost. The fact that this absolute unit of a man was so scared to ask you out.

“When?” you smirked as you opened the cash drawer to start counting for the day.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the way his whole face lit up. You pretended to pay no mind as you counted your sales for the day.

“Oh, I didn’t think I was gonna get this far.” he chuckles to himself sheepishly.

He stretches a hand out as if to shake yours. You look at him, trying not to pay attention as to how nicely yours fits into his grip.

Smiling sweetly while he introduces himself as Robert, but for you to call him Bo. You do the same, and his eyes sparkle upon hearing your name.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” he noted softly, almost as if he’d lose your name.

You slid the remaining bills back into their respective places during close. Eyeing the final price with a satisfied nod, and looked back to see how awful clean-up was gonna be for the day.

Not too shabby.

It almost took you a second to realize that Bo was still there and watching you. And then it hit you; the man doesn’t have your number. Or you don’t have his.

“Shit my bad.” you curse as you quickly write your number down on a stray post it.

“Thank you.” Bo breathes, but you’re already absentmindedly beginning to shut down everything.

“I’ll text you. How about tomorrow?” you suggest aloud.

“Oh god, that’s perfect actually. I swear I’m gonna leave the store. It’s just-.”

You lookup. It’s practically pouring outside, which you could only imagine was gonna be a pain to deal with later. As well as probably why he has been so hesitant to leave. Besides, you wouldn’t want the man to get soaked. Everything clicks into place, and you meet Bo’s eyes once more.

“Wanna help me close?”

“Oh, are you sure? I’m not entirely trained in barista stuff.” Bo replies.

“Oh please, you’ll be fine. Plus I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more.” you jest.

You could see a hesitant glimmer in his eyes before he gives in and joins you behind the counter. His taller statue dwarfing the station, which makes you chuckle as you edge around him.

“Good, now let’s begin.”

#broadwayandnetflix #2021 #bo burnham x reader #bo burhnam #bo burnham x you #make happy #what #words words words #inside #fluff #fanfiction request #fanfiction

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ve1vetyoongi · 5 years ago

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all aboard! (the passion express) | knj

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Genre: smut, office worker!namjoon.

Word count: 10.8k

Summary: There were not many things that got your blood boiling in the same way that two simple words could. Kim Namjoon. The name of your irritating and (unfortunately enough, as the universe would have it) incredibly handsome co-worker. Which is exactly why you never expected to find your self on your knees for him on the train home.

⇢ (or: in which Namjoon thinks you’re hot when you’re mad.)

Warnings: extremely public sex, dom namjoon, exhibitionism, oral (m recieving), thigh riding, kinda daddy kink, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), rough sex. also, namjoon in a shirt and tie (yum).

A/N: so. this happened. PURE FILTH. remind me not to scroll through “office worker namjoon” mood boards at 1am. p.s. train toilets r always gross so don’t do this (i warned u).

Playlist: visit my playlist page here and select “all aboard”.

⇢ Masterlist: x (links will be added once tumbr stops being a douche :/)

There were not many things that got your blood boiling in the same way that two simple words could.

Kim Namjoon.

The name of your irritating and (unfortunately enough, as the universe would have it) incredibly handsome co-worker.

For the most part your job was perfect; a career in book publishing had always been your dream and spending hours with your nose deep in the pages of new manuscripts and having afternoon tea with authors on weekdays (fit with triangular sandwiches and miniature sponge cakes - paid for with the company card, of course) all in the name of “working” was exactly how you envisioned it - if not more.

That was until Namjoon joined the company six months ago. The day he turned up in the elevator in his stupid suit jacket, despite the dress code being business casual, was the beginning of a journey filled with bitterness, anger and a dread for working hours. And apparently the beginning of an undeniable, all consuming school girl crush which just made you hate him more.

You would be lying if you said you took notice of him immediately. I mean sure, you noticed the hoard of girls who traipsed behind his polished dress shoes, using excuses like coffee refills and desperate quests for paper clips to unashamedly flirt with him.

But you supposed you didn’t truly notice Namjoon until he made it utterly impossible for you to ignore him.

It all started when you began to notice your pens disappearing from the pot on your desk. First it was your red marker and then it was your pink highlighter and you were sure you were just misplacing things or suffering from short term memory loss until you noticed the pile up of stationary on Namjoon’s desk that you distinctlyremembered buying last week.

You decided to be civil, putting any earlier first impressions behind you to confront him politely, only to be met with a grumble about how they just “turned up there.”

Not even an apology, you mused, sending a seething glare his way while you rearranged your pens neatly where they belonged. What an asshole.

After that, every little thing he did seemed to grind your gears. The way he whistled along to the monotonous pop music that crackled out of the office radio, the off-pitch tune droning on and on until you excused yourself with a tight lipped smile before you lobbed a hole puncher at his head.Or the way he would empty the coffee pot without refilling it for the next person and how he always forgot to reset the timer on the microwave.

And then came the management meeting from Hell where what was supposed to be your turn to pitch a new project turned into Namjoon meeting each of your ideas with a bored eye roll and a condescending head shake. He even had the audacity to offer to go over the project out of hours, to “help you.” As if he suddenly had a life time of experience in publishing and you were nothing but an intern.

His pitch, however, went down a treat (much to your dismay).

From then on you found yourself bickering over the pettiest of disputes at every opportunity you could find - desperate to get under his skin, a thirst for satisfaction only quenched by well and truly pissing him off.

That’s when your vendetta against him began. You managed to convince yourself it wasn’t the way he looked through you at the office or the way he smirked at you knowingly when the shorts he wore in the summer made your mouth water or the way he was completely, utterly, positively uninterested in you in any way other than as the co worker he liked to taunt for fun.

And he made sure you knew it, too.

Like when he deliberately left the office blinds open knowing full well that you had a front row view as he so graciously walked Seo Yuna to her car in the lot after work hours - even glinting through the sun and giving a snide wave as though he knew you were watching him from your desk.

Was he trying to rub it in? Was he aware that everyone in the goddamn nine storey office block wished he would look their way? Nothing would surprise you. Just add narcissistic to the list of bad qualities he possessed.

If that was his intention you were ashamed to admit it worked; the pang of jealousy in your chest when he rested his elbows on the car to duck into Yuna’s open window taking you by surprise. And the red hot burn as your fingers pressed angry half moons into your palms to control the swoon that threatened to surface when his deep chuckles fluttered through the open window was enough to confirm one thing:

Yeah, you definitely had a crush on this guy.

And once again, you hated him - for having the ability to turn you into a puddle of lust and for making you want to giggle like a teenager and sit on the thighs that looked so good in those goddamn pants and for setting your pulse at a pace that was most definitely unhealthy and probably categorized you as critically at risk of a heart attack - just by looking at him.

Namjoon was either utterly oblivious or completely uncaring since he seemed intent on pushing you to your limits - and finally, in a climax of events, today was the day when he reached his clumsy-kinda-obnoxious-yet-annoyingly-attractive-while-doing-so peak and any grip you had on your dignity disappeared, setting the angry beast that had remained caged inside you free in the middle of the office.

When you returned from your lunch break your eyes narrowed in on the desk drawer left slightly ajar immediately - your desk was usually meticulously organised - you watched a documentary about decluttered spaces improving productivity (much to the amusement of Namjoon who brushed his own messy habits off as being a sign of “creativity”), so you knew it wasn’t your doing - raising the question of who exactly had the audacity to destroy the harmony of your work space.

The answer was obvious. Nobody else in the office was blatantly bold enough to steal from someone else’s drawer. Except one person in particular, perhaps…

Yes.Your suspicions were confirmed when you peered over your cubicle to glare at Namjoon’s. He was wearing a black shirt today and it stretched deliciously over his broad shoulders, tie resting loosely around the vein in his neck that rose to prominence when he clenched his teeth in concentration, pencil scribbling furiously in the margins of the thick manuscript resting on his crossed knee.

And right next to him, a hot pink stapler balanced haphazardly on a stack of disorganized papers. A hot pink stapler that was absolutely tucked neatly in your drawer before you left for lunch.

Namjoon remained engrossed in his work, unaware of the way your face had begun to heat up with rage. Or maybe the pinkish tinge was a result of the way he pushed his thick framed designer glasses up the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. God he always looked so good in those glasses. Every time he swapped out his contacts you wanted to walk right over there and -

“No,” You told yourself sternly, biting your lip as you desperately tried to ignore the way your legs had turned to jelly in your shoes. “He’s the worst! You hate him!”

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him…

The same mantra swirled in your head as you took a breath of courage and stalked in the direction of the stapler that rightfully belonged to you. It was about time you stopped taking Namjoon’s shit. It was about time you finally gave him a piece of your mind.

I hate him, I hate him, I…

You reached his desk all too quickly, placing your hands on your hips and staring down at him in a way that you hoped conveyed your vexation. He remained oblivious to your presence for a moment. That was, until, the sound of your exasperated sigh drew his attention, forehead creasing in confusion while he stared straight back at you with lips parted quizzically. Had you caught the Kim Namjoon off guard?

(God, if there was one thing you didn’t hate it was his face.)

You were the one to break the silence. “I told you not to steal my stuff, didn’t I?” His expression remained blank until you pointed a finger at the alarmingly bright office appliance. “I want my stapler back.”

Namjoon’s features shifted into an amused smirk, snickering when you began tapping the toe of your shoe with growing impatience. “I didn’t steal it.” He countered. “I borrowed it.”

“Namjoon, you and I both know you never asked permission,” you huffed, arms crossing your chest. “I think you just wanted to piss me off.”

Namjoon visibly scoffed. “Me? Piss you off?” His eye roll set your pulse racing with rage, only heightened by the sarcasm that laced his tone. “It’s not my fault you’re little Miss Uptight is it?” He shook his head, diverting his attention back to the stack of paper in front of him and just like that he dismissed you with a wave of his hand and a click of his tongue. “Just take it and go, I’m busy.”

“Don’t you dare ignore me, Kim Namjoon,” you spat, curled fist slamming down on top of his booth hard enough to make him jump in his seat, satisfaction spreading through your chest at the sight alone. “I’m not upright! You’re just an asshole who decided to make my job a misery! And for what? Because I’m not at your beck and call like Yuna?”

Oops. Maybe that was a bit too far…

“Yuna?!” Namjoon spluttered between surprised gasps of laughter. “What does she have to do with the fact that you’re a priss who never learned to share?”

You tried to ignore the embarrassing heat that had risen in your face, diverting your eyes from his. “If I’m such a priss why don’t you share her stuff instead?”

He raised his eyebrows at your pout. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“No! Of course not, I’m just…” You trailed off. He leaned back into his seat, the same stupid smug smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. As much as you tried to ignore it, it made your stomach flip. Namjoon looked satisfied, as if your stunned silence and attempt to stutter an excuse was exactly what he wanted.

By this point the entire office was staring at the both of you, including Yuna who looked almost as embarrassed as you did as she pretended to be unaware of the entire situation by rummaging through the contents of her bag for the lip balm she “lost” this morning and conveniently “could not seem to find.”

“Look, Namjoon, just give it back okay?” You nodded towards the stapler, impatient to just be behind your desk booth away from the prying eyes of your coworkers and more importantly away from Namjoon’s accusing gaze.

He ran a hand through his side part, gelled strands effortlessly messy. “Fine.” He grabbed the stapler and held it out to you with an innocent smile. You narrowed your eyes and he simply nodded in encouragement. “Here, take it.”

“See was that so hard-” Before your fingers could take the appliance from his grasp, he ripped it away again. With a dark chuckle he kicked his feet up onto the desk, revealing his annoyingly cute doughnut socks that nearly broke your resolve if it weren’t for the vengeful way he stared at you atop the rim of his glasses.

“Say please, Y/N.”

The glint in his eye tipped you over the edge, the elastic of your patience finally snapping when you launched at him without a second thought about repercussions. “Say please?!” All that mattered right now was making Kim Namjoon pay for being the most inconvenient, bothersome and punchable man on the planet.

Before you could think, both your hands were on the stapler and pulling with all the force you could muster. Namjoon seemed shocked at your brave act of force before he responded with a tug of equal strength, determined not to let go. “If you had said please in the first place we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“So you’re uptight and ill mannered?” He got out between gritted teeth.

“I’m…not…uptight!”

You had begun a tug of war, both unconscious of the fact that twenty pairs of eyes were watching the childish events unfold curiously. Namjoon was red in the face as he tried to rip the stapler from your grasp and you had to lift a shoe onto the seat of his chair to keep your balance.

The move gave you a power advantage and with one last pull, the stapler was yours. Triumph plastered your face in the form of a self-satisfied smile - though not for long. Namjoon was breathing heavily through his nose, knuckles white with irritation. Before he could think better of it, he was sliding the wheels of his chair back, sending you flying into his desk and to both of your dismay, the mug of steaming coffee that sat on top of it.

“Watch out!” Too late.

The crash that followed was loud enough to elicit shocked gasps from those around you. The hushed whispers that filled the room before fell to an eerie silence as you tried to pull yourself to your feet with no luck, collapsing in a pile of splintered wood and printer paper.

“Uhh, Y/N? You’ve got a little coffee on your blouse.”

And that’s how you found yourself on the subway platform, waiting for a train to take you in the opposite direction of home but rather towards the nearest launderette.

You pulled the black blazer you donned tighter around your chest, not because of the evening chill which had set into the air by now but rather to hide the unmistakable brown coffee stain which seeped across the fabric of your blouse.

The launderette was closing in just under an hour and your train was nearly five minutes late already and you couldn’t help but grit your teeth in irritation when you recounted the days events over and over in your head.

This was all his fault. If Namjoon wasn’t such a shameless douche you would be home by now, heels off, feet kicked up while a re-run of The Vampire Diaries soothed the tension ache in your temples.

But no. You were waiting for a train to take you half way across town so you could wash this freaking blouse in time for the weekly company meeting tomorrow. It was an important one - you were going to finally present the pitch you had been working on for nearly four months - so everything had to be perfect.

This job meant everything to you, not that Namjoon would understand that - and you were determined not to let him ruin this for you.

“Damn Kim Namjoon.” you scowled at the ground, kicking an empty can across the scuffed platform floor.

“Either you know another Kim Namjoon or I arrived just in time?”

A familiar voice sounded behind you. Your mouth dropped slightly, icy shock snatching the colour from your face as you registered who it belonged to.

Sure enough, spinning on your heels revealed the one and only Kim Namjoon who you had grown to know and hate. Still in the black shirt which was now rolled up his forearms and loosened at the collar, he stood with his back against a pillar, smiling down at you bemusedly with his hands slung into his pockets like this was the most normal occurrence in the world.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“What?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you haunting me now?”

He actually laughed at that. “Actually, this is my train home. Don’t usually see you here at this time so it seems like you are following me.”

“Following you?!” You couldn’t help the way your voice hitched incredulously, drawing the attention of passerby’s who side stepped around you nervously. “If it wasn’t for your little show today then I’d be on a train travelling as far away from you as possible right now.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I have to go clean this.” You ripped open the front of your blazer revealing the coffee soaked garment covering your chest.

Namjoon bit his cheek to hold back a chuckle. He knew it would just set you off even more. You were a few feet smaller than him and the way you stared up at him with fiery eyes, not quite intimidating despite your best efforts, almost had him clutching his sides.

“As far away from me as possible huh…”

“What?”

“That’s what you want?”

You turned up your nose, confused. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“It’s funny, really.” He let out an amused snort, not at you directly but rather to himself. The act annoyed you even more.

“What is?”

“Just that you never seem to be far away from me at all.” Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Oh Namjoon stop stealing my shit, oh Namjoon stop using all the printer ink-”

“I’m done with you now.” You turned your back to him, drowning out the tinny voice he used to mock you. He had a fair point…but only because his naturally irritating demeanour drew you into his fuck ups like a magnet.

“Because you think it’s always my fault right? God forbid you are the problem!”

You blinked. You?

“Like when, asshole?” You scoffed. “Name one time I gave you a reason to hate me?”

Namjoon reached into his backpack, pulling out a stack of papers that limply fluttered as a train breezily left the station. The edges were crumpled and the middle stained brown, ink nearly illegible. “You can clean your blouse but how about my manuscript?”

You thought back to earlier that day. It must be the one he was working on before the…accident. And to his credit, it looked like it was in pretty bad shape.

“If you weren’t so hard to ignore then maybe neither of us would be in this mess!”

You could feel the tension rising between you by the minute. If he wasn’t careful you would be responsible for another scuffle and this time you weren’t sure you could resist breaking his nose and a trip to the ER was not what you needed right now.

Namjoon’s face had darkened considerably too. You couldn’t help but find the way he tightened his jaw kind of hot. Stop, Y/N.

“Then let’s make this easier for the both of us.”

“Huh?”

He gestured between you. “When the train comes I will pretend you’re just a pretty girl on her way home and you can pretend I’m just another annoyingly tall guy and we’ll forget this day ever happened.”

“What’s the point of that? We still work together every day?”

He let out a sigh, exasperated by your persistence “Because then we can see who the real problem is? Who starts the next fight?”

"Fine!” The word came out a little more childishly than you had intended. What was his point here? To reinforce the fact that he hated your guts and couldn’t even stand to make small talk on the train for thirty minutes? “And then you’ll see that the whole problem is you.”

Wait….did he call you pretty?

Whatever. You could do this right? He was just trying to get into your head, trying to make you think that you were the issue here.

TRAIN NOW ENTERING PLATFORM. PLEASE MIND THE GAP.

The transport announcement alerted you of the trains arrival a few seconds before the clunky metal could be heard rattling into the station.

You averted his gaze, an uncomfortable atmosphere settling.

“Well, all aboard.” He said, arm outstretched, head nodding towards the open train door as if to say after you.

So now he has manners?

You gave a tight lipped smile in thanks, stepping onto the train. The carriage was completely full, no spare seats in sight, so you settled for holding on to the bar above your head, strategically making sure your back was to Namjoon. You were determined to show him that you couldn’t care less about his existence.

Staying true to his word, Namjoon joined a huddle of people at the opposite end of the carriage, staring sweetly into the distance as if he was utterly unaware of your identity.

You let out a sigh of relief. Maybe this was a good thing.

You attempted to busy yourself by staring out of the window; the trees and the sky whizzed into a turquoise blur like watercolour on canvas. Try as you might, your mind couldn’t help but wander back to the figure you wanted to desperately ignore when you noticed Namjoon’s reflection in the glass.

It was silly but you realised you had never looked at him properly before. In your head he was just a target of your rage, a face featuring often in your imagination’s gruesome revenge master plans. But, now felt like the first time you were really seeing him; the way he bobbed his head to the music that blasted a little too loudly through his headphones and how his dimple showed when he smiled politely at other passengers and how his arms cradled the sodden manuscript like it was fine china. Maybe you were too focused on yourself to see just how important this job was to Namjoon, too.

And although you had noticed his face before - it was hard not to - it was always during rushed glances over the top of your office booth, eyes quickly diverting and cheeks reddening when you were sure he caught you looking or when he would break yet another mug in the office kitchen and you would help him clean up the ceramic, ignoring the way his own cheeks turned pinkish.

But this time, through the safety of the glass which acted as a welcome barrier, you could study him more closely. The cute flush of his nose and the way his eyes were a little puffy from staying up too late reading. Maybe there was more to this guy than just an irritating coworker after all.

The train came to a halt and an entourage of fresh passengers pressed into the already tight carriage. A chorus of sorry’s buzzed in the air as more and more people elbowed their way into the confined space, pushing you down the train and squeezing the air out of your lungs until you were pressed into a corner, back uncomfortably flush to the torso of a taller body.

The familiar cologne told you all you needed to know and you shut your eyes tightly, sucking on your teeth as you cursed the universe for shredding whatever dignity you had managed to retain.

A glance over your shoulder revealed a preoccupied Namjoon, desperately apologising to someone behind him whose coffee he managed to spill with his inconveniently pointy elbow.

“I’m so sorry man! Oops..sorry again I…”

“So much for ignoring each other,” you snorted, denying the fact that it was you who bumped into him. You wouldn’t give in so easily.

He looked genuinely apologetic, swinging his arms wildly but only managing to make the situation worse by very nearly smacking an older lady square in the head. His height had its downsides, clearly.

“Sorry…” he began, ready to launch into another apologetic spiel. “Oh.” Except, he deadpanned when he finally looked down and saw none other than yourself staring straight back up at him.

His eyes narrowed smugly. “Well, well, well.”

You simply laughed, nodding towards the evidence of his clumsiness. “Are you on a secret coffee spilling mission today?”

You expected him to throw something back at you, to start another endless fight about who was at fault. Except Namjoon wasn’t listening. His eyes widened comically when he noticed how your lower back pressed into his torso, glancing left then right and sighing nervously when he realised there was no space to squeeze into. He was trapped between you and the wall with no where to go.

“I-it was an accident…” Namjoon seemed sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck anxiously. Why was he so flustered all of a sudden? You’d never seen him like this, so unlike the cocky bastard you’d come to know as Kim Namjoon.

Unless…bingo! You had won. He was the problem and this was proof enough of his clumsy, idiotic ways!

“You should learn to be more careful-”

You were cut short when the train suddenly jerked wildly, sending you flying forwards. Great, you thought, Y/N 0, Balance 2. Your feet fumbled beneath your own weight, eyes screwed shut, bracing for impact against the cold, metal floor of the train.

Before gravity could take hold of you, a large hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you upright. The gesture allowed you to find your balance again, a sigh of relief tumbling from your chest as you gained your bearings.

“Woah there,” Namjoon’s lips were against your ear now, breath hot against your cheek. “What were you saying about being careful?”

“O-oh…” You willed yourself to open your eyes, to ignore the chills that crept up your spine when his nose brushed your hair just barely. You tried to pry yourself out of his hold. “It was an accident, I-”

“Look who came crawling right back. Knew it wouldn’t take long.” There was the cocky bastard again. The underlying implications of his words made you shiver, as if he wanted you to come back. Wanted to punish you for being wrong.

His body was warm - no it was hot, his palm burning the exposed skin of your waist where your blouse had ridden up in the scuffle. You could feel his heart pulse against your back and it took all your self control to stop your body from melting into his sturdy form, from delighting in his embrace. If he were to just move his hands down, down, down…

No! You were not about to imagine the guy you hated with a passion grabbing your ass on the goddamn train.

The train heaved again, Namjoon’s grip tightening even further and you silently thanked him for it as you felt your entire body turn to putty in his grasp. Your hand had found its way to his thigh, squeezing embarrassingly hard and sending your head spinning when you felt the firm muscles that tensed beneath your touch.

If you didn’t know any better you would say you were having the same effect on Namjoon. His lips had fallen dangerously close to your neck, almost as if he was debating pressing them to the flushed skin.

Don’t be ridiculous, you chastised yourself, you just need to get laid, clearly. He’s enjoying this because you’re letting him win.

No matter how much your pride meant to you, his effect was becoming too much.

Enough was enough. You needed to get out of his arms, out of this train and most of all you needed to get him out of your head. You wriggled a little, desperate to free yourself before you literally jumped his bones. Of course you had thought about this before, thought about how it would feel to be pressed up against Namjoon. Except usually there were less clothes separating you and you were at least on a bed…

STOP! YOU HATE HIM, YOU HATE HIM, YOU-

No matter how hard you squirmed, Namjoon’s arms only tightened, holding you to him as the train rattled down the tracks. Your ass was trapped against his thigh and you tried to ignore the pulse in your heat that had begun to alert you of just how good it would feel between your legs.

Just then you felt Namjoon stiffen as your ass glided over his crotch - and if you weren’t so focused on the way his breath ghosted across your neck when you did, you may have missed the way it hitched slightly, almost as if he was swallowing a groan.

“Y/N,” he whispered harshly, as if to issue a warning. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” You spoke a little to loudly, nearly averting the attention of fellow passengers when you tried to claw at the vice like grip that squeezed your middle tightly. “Let me go!”

“Hush.”

“No!” You moved your ass again and this time he let out a noise; a groan of either pain or annoyance, you couldn’t tell.

“Seriously! Hush.”

Suddenly, his fingers gripped your hips so roughly you were sure they would bruise. You enjoyed it a little too much, the action making you light headed. It felt far too intimate to be friendly, only confirmed when you felt it. Something firm against the small of your back.

Was he…hard?

“What the fuck Namjoon?” You whispered hurriedly, glancing around to see if anyone else was aware of the erection that was now all you could focus on, blatantly obvious as it pulsed against the top of your ass.

The train came to a sudden halt, doors swinging open to allow a hoard of people to scramble off. Cool air hit your hot face. Maybe you’d be able to breathe again if you weren’t left breathless by the way Namjoon’s heart beat rapidly against your shoulder blades, all too aware of the raging arousal that felt so hard you imagined it would be painful.

Before you could push away and scream at him about how inappropriate this situation was - even though, to your dismay, your thoughts were clouded with visions far from appropriate - Namjoon was spinning your body around, pinning you against the wall with an audible thud, slotting his body between your trembling legs.

Suddenly, all thoughts of proving him wrong once and for all were forgotten.

You hissed. “Seriously what the fuck Namjoon-”

“What you should be saying,” He muttered, pausing to let his tongue snake out to wet his parted lips. “Is thank you Namjoon.”

“What for?” You gasped, trying and failing once again to wriggle out of his grasp.

His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, glazed over with what you recognised as want. “Thank you for saving my ass when I nearly fell in front of the entire subway.” You swallowed thickly, desperately trying to close your legs to relieve the hot, wet ache that was beginning to throb between them but to no avail, Namjoon keeping them open with a large palm around your inner thigh. “And thank you for not fucking said ass right here against the train door.”

Your head fell back with a slight gasp, choking on a moan that was utterly inappropriate for such a public setting. The train began to move again and you glanced up and down the carriage warily, surprised to see only two young men remained; one engrossed in a comic, the other resting his eyes and thankfully both too occupied to notice the way Namjoon stared at you with a look of arousal so intimidating you had to break away from his stare.

“N-Namjoon we s-shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t what baby?” Maybe it was the sudden use of a pet name or the gentle but firm way his thumb stroked your thigh, so close to the lace of your panties you were sure the slight touch alone nearly made you lose it. “Shouldn’t make you wet on the train?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Well I guess you should have thought of that before you got me hard, huh?” You let out a shaky breath, blouse falling down your shoulder slightly but before you could adjust it, Namjoon took the opportunity to place an open mouthed kiss to your collarbone and then to the side of your neck and then to the lobe of your ear. The way his teeth grazed your skin made you shiver, skin burning hot with want against the icy cold metal of the train. “Should’ve thought of that before you got me all worked up at the office today.”

“T-today?”

“Yeah, today.” He shook his head disapprovingly, tilting your chin with his forefinger as his eyes traveled down to your lips. “And every single other fucking day.”

Is that the reason why he was always so pissed?

“When you walk in in that goddamn white blouse and call me out. In front of everyone?” Perhaps you weren’t so subtle after all… “I swear you do it on purpose. I swear you want to make me mad.”

“N-no, I…” Your voice trailed off.

“Is that why you make such a fuss baby?” He continued to interrogate. “This is why you’re a problem,” He hissed under his breath, pressing your palm around his twitching bulge. “Because you are always giving me problems.”

Your eyes widened, arousal guiding your body to palm him through his trousers against the will of resistance from your head.

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to fuck you in front of the entire office? How many times I’ve wanted to put you in your fucking place? God you get me so angry sometimes,” He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. Your breathing was ragged now, almost as broken as his. “How many times I’ve jerked off in the bathroom thinking about how hot you look when you’re mad?”

You’d be lying if Namjoon wasn’t the focus of your own fantasies after a couple of glasses of wine and a “pamper night”.

His lips curved up into a smirk as the words made sense in your head, stifling a dark chuckle when your eyes widened in realisation. "So that’s why you’re always riling me up?” You managed to breathe.

“I literally almost blew my load when you stormed out today.” He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. His lips were inches from yours and it was taking everything in you to resist leaning in and connecting them, focusing on the throb in your heat instead as a distraction. “You seriously don’t know anything, do you?”

The train came to a sudden stop, doors ripping open almost as fast as Namjoon jumped away from your body. His absence left a cold void where he had hovered over you and you shakily stood upright, glancing at the floor to avoid any funny looks from the passengers leaving the train. You watched as four pairs of shoes scuffled off, heart beating a little faster now you were completely alone.

A few moments passed in silence and you didn’t dare look at Namjoon. You were still trying to wrap your head around his admission. Namjoon’s asshole behaviour was a ploy to make you mad? On purpose? Because he wanted you?

The doors slammed shut, train moving again with a clunk and before you could register what was happening, Namjoon was on you again, dragging you towards the row of seats that were now completely empty. You had the entire carriage to yourselves and Namjoon was clearly intent on taking advantage of the fact.

You were straddling him in seconds, his hands sliding down to cup your ass as he held your heat directly above his throbbing bulge. You gasped at the contact, feeling the way your panties clung to your sticky heat while you desperately tried to grind down onto his lap, eager for any form of relief.

Namjoon tutted at this, prompting you to raise your gaze from between your legs to take in the lazy smile that rested upon his face. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? To see you all needy above me?”

He was right, you were so needy it felt like you might combust if you didn’t get some friction on your throbbing clit right now, uncaring that you were in public. His throat sounded hoarse, evidence of his own struggle to resist you (if the tent in his pants wasn’t already evidence enough) and the broken sound of his voice alone was enough to have you clenching around nothing.

It was rare that someone managed to get you this riled up this quickly. It was as if the tension that had been building between you finally reached its breaking point and the only logical response was to fuck it out. Hard. Still, if someone had told you an hour ago that you would be close to begging Namjoon of all people to touch you, you would have called them crazy.

Your forehead came down to rest against his shoulder in defeat. His grip was too strong, stopping you from getting what you wanted, and you let out a cry of frustration. “Please…”

“Please what, baby? Use your words.”

“Please…” Your voice was muffled by his black shirt which you tugged at eagerly. “Please fuck me.”

For the first time, Namjoon’s resolve broke and he let out a guttural moan at your words. He didn’t have time to respond before the train jerked again, sending you flying into his chest and to your delight, straight onto his crotch. “Ugh, fuck.” The whine that left your lips made Namjoon’s cock throb painfully against the front of his trousers, his own moan muffled by your hair.

Before you could twist your hips and gain any friction, Namjoon was hoisting you up again, higher this time so he could see the fucked out look on your face. He brushed a few stray hairs behind your ears, watching smugly as you ground against the air with another high pitched whine.

“Look at you. So fucked out and I’ve hardly even touched you.” His hands crept to the hem of your skirt, tugging the garment up so that it sat around your waist, exposing the curve of your ass and the black lacey underwear which nearly made him buck up into your heat. “Want my cock so bad baby?” His hand came down against your ass with an audible slap you were sure would leave a print and you had to bite your hand hard to stop from crying out too loudly. “Mmm, fuck, I wanted to make you wait,” he hummed. “Like I waited to be inside you but…if you want it how about you show daddy how much?”

He nodded for you to get on your knees. You mewled with delight, nearly drooling at the thought of his hot cock sliding in and out of your mouth. The thought of finally pleasuring him.

Your fingers eagerly began to fiddle with the fly of his trousers before one of his big palms stopped your ministrations all together. You looked up at him, confused and frustrated. “Not yet baby. Gotta open wide for daddy first.”

He pressed two fingers to your swollen lips and you sucked them into your hot mouth eagerly, wrapping your tongue around the digits and coating them in a layer of saliva like they were the sweetest popsicle you’d ever tasted. His fingers were salty with sweat but you didn’t care, taking them as far as you could while batting your eyelids at him in a silent beg for something else in your throat.

Namjoon melted into the headrest, completely fucked out as he watched you take his fingers through lidded eyes. He could hardly bare the way his digits disappeared in and out of your mouth, already aching to feel the sensation on his needy cock.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he choked, leaving a loud slap to your ass that flushed at the contact. “I nearly came in my pants.”

You pulled his hand away at the wrist leaving a trail of saliva down your chin. “You could come down my throat if you let me open your p-pants.”

Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut, pulling both your wrists behind your back roughly as the other pushed you down onto your knees until you were eye level with the bulge in his pants. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean,” he nearly stammered. “You’ll regret it.”

“I mean it.” You made quick work of his zipper, palming his hardness through the fabric of his boxers. “Please l-let me suck your cock.” You almost cringed at the words that came out of your mouth, washed in pure disbelief that you were actually on your knees in front of THE Kim Namjoon.

“Then suck.” Disbelief didn’t last for long since his command emptied your mind, losing the ability to think about anything else other than wrapping your lips around him immediately.

Namjoon placed both hands behind his head, resting against the train which vibrated beneath your knees, sending shocks of pleasure through your core when it made light contact.

Without further ado you reached into the open fabric of his pants, hand finally wrapping around something rock hard and blazing hot against your clammy palm, eliciting a hiss from Namjoon at he skin on skin contact. “Finally.” He groaned.

You were unaware of the whimper which left your own lips when Namjoon’s cock finally came into view, heavy against his stomach and raging with desperation to be touched. He was decently long but it was the thickness that made your eyes pop, mouth opening in anticipation and crotch grinding against the ground as you imagined how good it would feel when it finally stretched you out.

Without warning you were running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, enjoying the shaky breath Namjoon let slip when your hand fondled his balls firmly. You gave a few kitten licks to his swollen head, relishing the salty taste of precum that spread across your taste buds.

Your lips wrapped around the tip, sucking gently before sinking further down his length, letting the spit that had begun to fill your mouth cover his cock nicely so he slipped between your lips messily. Namjoon nearly went crazy when you hollowed your cheeks, hands tangling in your hair and making you groan out, desperate for him to take control. To use you.

“Mmmf, fuck yes,” he stammered, barely controlling his hips from bucking into your throat. “Just like that, there’s a good girl.” He pushed your head firmly down his shaft before tugging you off again, the head of his dick barely brushing against your reddened lips. You moaned in approval as he fucked your face, dizzy with the feeling of the ridges of his length on your tongue and his hands in your hair.

Just as you were taking him back into your mouth, the train rocked violently and you found yourself taking more of his cock than you anticipated, the head hitting your throat and making you gag obscenely around his length. Namjoon flew forward, unable to hold back the deep moan that rumbled from his chest when he felt your nose against his public bone. “Fuck baby girl, do that again.”

You obliged, taking him all the way until you gagged.

“So hot, fuck.”

You didn’t know if he was referring to your mouth or the way you dribbled down your own chin, tears pricking your eyes and leaking onto your flushed cheeks as you tried to breathe through your nose when he held you for a few seconds too long at the base of his dick. You pulled off with a pop, gasping for air.

“Sorry,” he panted apologetically. “Got a bit carried away.”

“It’s okay.” You gasped between breaths, wiping your chin with the back of one hand and pumping his slick length with the other, palm sliding lewdly against the sensitive head where your mouth had been. And you meant it - it was okay. You wanted this. Maybe you had just been denying it all along.

“Shit!” Before you could wrap your lips around him again, Namjoon was slapping your hand away, shoving himself back into his pants and pulling you up by your elbow.

“What?” You asked, surprised at his rejection of your mouth. “What is it?”

“Train’s stopping,” He hissed back. “People getting on.”

Sure enough, the doors swung open, allowing a hoard of people to board the train. You pulled your skirt around your ass hurriedly, hoping the disheveled state of your hair and swollen lips wouldn’t give away your arousal to the prying eyes of other passengers.

You kept your eyes on your shoes, waiting for the crowd to seat themselves around yourself and Namjoon before you dared meet his eyes again. He smirked, tugging his tie to hang loose around his neck and the action alone had you rubbing your legs together for relief, glancing around nervously to see if anybody caught your blatant show of arousal.

The train started up again and you reached for the bar above you hurriedly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself by losing your footing for a fourth time that day.

Fortunately, Namjoon came to your rescue again, pulling you into his lap with a plop. Your heat grazed his thigh, sopping folds only separated by the thin layer of your sticky panties and you were sure you would draw blood which how hard you bit back the loud moan that almost left your lips.

“Can’t stay on your feet today, huh?” He clicked his tongue, breath hot against your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Your chest swelled when he rested his chin on your shoulder. The embrace felt nice.

“Guess I prefer being on my knees when you’re around.” Namjoon’s breath hitched, jaw tightening against your neck.

“Is that so?” Before you could respond he was slotting his leg between your thighs, tensing the muscles to create some friction against your pulsing clit. The action offered welcome relief, your folds begging to be touched in any way after what felt like hours of denial. “Move.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, grinding slowly onto the thighs you had dreamed about ever since Namjoon walked into the office months ago.

You moved your hips in slow circles, the coarse fabric of Namjoon’s trousers rubbing your heat in just the right way that had you breathing deeply as you tried to stop yourself from losing control and sitting on his cock then and there in front of everyone.

The fact that you were surrounded by people was exhilarating, the idea that someone could look over any second and see you creating a wet patch on Namjoon’s lap making you dizzy with lust.

Namjoon’s fingers grazed your arms gently, working you through the pleasure as he tensed his thigh again and again, pressure on your clit causing broken moans to catch in your throat. At this point you were completely gone, everything around you unimportant as you focused on chasing the feeling building in your lower stomach.

Suddenly, Namjoon grabbed your hips, stilling your ministrations despite the hushed whine of protest you directed at him as discreetly as you could. “Please.” You whispered, tears threatening to prick your eyes as you felt the feeling of your high getting further and further away with every second your core throbbed still against his legs. You were so desperate you would have done anything to reach it, tired and frustrated of being denied any pleasure.

“Hush baby girl,” Namjoon’s thumbs gently caressed your waist. “Take this off, such a good girl for me hmm?” He began tugging at the blazer that covered your shoulders, dragging it down your arms and throwing it over your lap instead.

Embarrassment flushed your cheeks when you looked down at the the coffee stain on your blouse, visible to everyone and anyone now Namjoon removed the thing covering it. “N-namjoon my blouse-”

“Shhh,” he hushed, tucking your hair behind your ear so you could hear his gravelly whispers clearly. “Let me make you feel good.”

“W-what…oh!” Your eyes bulged with surprise when you felt Namjoon’s fingers slip beneath the blazer that hid his wandering hands from prying eyes, toying with the top of your panties teasingly. “Namjoon! W-we can’t-”

His index finger slipped beneath the fabric, finding your clit immediately and rubbing hard, fast circles into the swollen nub. “So wet baby, so good.”

Arousal dripped from his voice and you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as his fingers worked you up into a squirming mess on top of him. If anyone sees they’ll just think you’re resting your eyes, you managed to convince yourself, all rational thoughts lost to the feeling of Namjoon sliding up and down your folds.

You let out a breathy oh when you felt his finger circle your entrance. “Joon,” you warned. If he filled you with even one finger you were sure you would cum on the spot in front of the whole train.

He smiled against your neck, at your neediness or the nickname you couldn’t tell before he was pushing two fingers into your heat to the knuckle. You were wet enough for them to slide straight in, cold metal of the pretty rings he always donned rubbing your walls deliciously and making you grind down onto his hand. His thumb found your clit and you dug your nails into his thighs, panting obviously now as you tried to hold on to what was left of your sanity.

“I-I can’t,” you gasped, noticing the sideways glances you were getting from the couple sat opposite you. They must have known what was going on. They must have known Namjoon was knuckle deep into your wetness as you clenched around him desperate for release, coil tightening more and more in your belly.

You were so wet that every thrust of his hand made a lewd squelch, an instant give away of Namjoon’s affect on you and you prayed the loud screech of the train’s wheels against the track was enough to hide it from the other passengers.

Namjoon was going faster now, leaving small kisses against the nape of your neck as he tried to hold it together. Until, finally, he couldn’t anymore. “I can’t n-need more.” You felt something in him snap at your keening, his hand leaving you clenching around nothing all of a sudden as he tugged your skirt back around your thighs.

“Wha-” You didn’t have time to finish before Namjoon was jerking you to your feet, shoving the forgotten manuscript from earlier into your hands as he pushed you towards the train bathroom. He kept his crotch pressed tightly against your ass, probably to hide his raging arousal from the people around you although his less than subtle way of maneuvering you both into the same bathroom stall gave it away instantly.

The door slammed behind you a little too loudly, making you wince. “Fuck Namjoon, now everyone knows.” You whined, allowing him to push you until the backs of your legs gave in, your ass falling aginst the sink. The bathroom was cramped, barely enough room for the two of you, so Namjoon went about making the best of the space by hovering over you with the same feverish want he had earlier except this time he couldn’t control the way his hands trembled as he eagerly ripped your coffee stained blouse open.

He let out a gasp when he finally got his hands under neath your bralette, thumbs sliding across your agonisingly hard buds in circles until you were squirming to feel his hands everywhere, anywhere. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.” You couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your face, something funny flipping in your stomach that was more than just arousal. Before you could worry if his heavy palms felt the way your heart beat a little faster at his words, his lips were skimming tantalisingly across the top of your breasts, finally unhooking your bra. Your head fell back in a choked gasp when his teeth grazed your nipples momentarily before he was swirling his tongue across them, soothing the sting that felt deliciously cold despite the hot and musky bathroom air.

You felt his lips begin the journey down, not quite reaching your belly button with his surprisingly gentle ministrations before your hands were tangling in the collar of his shirt and pulling him up to meet your eyes again. Your nipples rubbed against the coarse fabric and you fiddled with the buttons, desperate to feel his sweaty skin against yours. Your hot breath mingled. “Namjoon,” You managed to pant. “Let me see you too.”

His touch still lingered on your chest when he brushed your roaming hands away to replace them with his own, buttons quickly flying open allowing more skin to come into view beneath the dim lights. You couldn’t help but let your hands snake across his toned chest, sighing in delight when he lets you shake the shirt from where it still sat around his shoulders. You were pleasantly surprised to find his tummy soft, a perfect contrast to his muscular upper body.

He raised your gaze with a finger beneath your chin, pausing for a moment to run a questioning glance from your lips to your eyes and back to your lips. “Can I?”

You almost choked on your own spit, practically salivating to feel his lips against your own. “Kiss me?” You murmured. “Please.”

Namjoon took no time to oblige, finally crashing your lips together in a tangle of teeth and tongue. A wave of relief emptied your mind of anything other than the feeling of Namjoon’s body finally melting against your own and you realise you’ve been waiting for this - no needed this - for longer than you originally thought. Namjoon smiled into the kiss and you felt your heart swell a little, his nose brushing your own gently in contrast to the way his hands greedily grabbed your ass. His lips were slightly chapped as they roughly caressed your own and you sighed contentedly into the kiss, tangling one hand in his hair, the other slipping down to the buckle of his belt.

His tongue finally gained permission, slipping into your mouth as you made work with the button of his trousers. You could barely focus, Namjoon’s lips all you could feel. Trousers now at his ankles, you fumbled to slip your hand beneath the waistband of his grey boxer briefs, eyes widening at the groan which rumbled from Namjoon’s chest into your mouth when your small hand finally wrapped around his pulsing length skin-on-skin.

You almost whimper at how hot and heavy he is in your palm, even harder than before if that was possible, the wetness smeared around his head evidence of just how worked up he was. His mouth stilled against yours, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to resist bucking into your hand. The knowledge that it was you that made him this hard, you that had him breathless against your lips sent another rush to your own heat.

Then he’s kissing you again, softly this time as his hand comes to rest on top of your own. “Wait, wait.” He murmurs between crashes of your lips. “I want to feel you before I come.”

You reluctantly retract your hand, agreeing that you wanted- needed - to feel him and quickly because quite honestly you were close already. Just his lips were enough, just wondering how they would feel around your clit and how good his tongue would be as it licked a stripe up your pulsing folds was almost enough to throw you into sensory overload.

“Can I take these off?” His thumbs hooked beneath the band of your panties. He looked at you with a genuine concern and you thought it was sweet. Namjoon was in control but he asked with a sincerity that said your comfort was important to him and it made something feel right about this, something safe. You gave his nose a kiss in affirmation, nodding gently. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Namjoon placed small, affectionate pecks to the corners of your mouth as he rolled the garment down your legs, letting you kick them all the way off as he rubbed gentle circles into your thighs. His eyes were still black with lust but they seemed gentle as he sucked in a breath, taking you in fully for the first time. It was almost easy to forget that this was the same guy who made you suck his cock on a public train fifteen minutes ago.

He connected your lips again in a soft, slow kiss, hand cupping your face as his thumb ran across your bottom lip. “You know, I envisioned it to be more romantic than…this.” He gestured to the dingy bathroom you’d almost forgotten existed, too busy getting lost in Namjoon. “Sorry…” He bit his lip, eyes averting your own bashfully.

Your heart swelled with more than just arousal.

“Namjoon?” He looked up at you again through his lashes. “There will be plenty of time for that. For romance.” A small smile crept onto your face.

“Yeah?” Namjoon’s grin gave away his elation at your statement.

“Yeah,” Your voice was but a breath. “For now though I just need you inside me.”

Namjoon’s arms scooped you up, slamming you against the wall for the second time that day and knocking away your breath as he wrapped your leg around his waist. “That I can do.” He hummed against your neck mischievously.

By now your heat was dripping, wetness making its way down your inner thighs as you braced yourself for the fullness of Namjoon’s cock. He felt girthy in your hand and your hole clenched at the thought of it stretching you open.

The small room was stuffy, barely enough shared air to breathe but that made it all the more intimate. Hands woven into his hair, you felt the way his chest rose and fell against your own as he took his length into his hand, guiding the blunt head to your entrance. He seemed pained as he squeezed the base of his cock, hesitating. “Are you…?”

“We’re good. On the pill.” You got out between laboured breaths of anticipation. “Wait!” You pushed his chest, his face coming into view, laced with worry as he searched your face for any sign of indecision. “What about Yuna?”

His eyes practically bulged before he let out a small chuckle at your concern. “Yuna?”

“Yeah…won’t she be mad?”

“Why would she be?”

“Aren’t you two like…you know?”

Namjoon spluttered. “No! Don’t you think her girlfriendwould be kinda mad if we were?”

Oh. Oh.

“I-”

“Y/N, she was just a way to you know…make you jealous. Truthfully, I was pissed, you wouldn’t even look my way and -”

You cut him off with a peck to his lips. “Okay. It’s okay.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. Now for god’s sake, just fuck me please.”

“With pleasure.”

The head of his cock was back again and you circled your hips, desperate to feel more of it inside of you. Namjoon pressed in slowly, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he finally bottomed out, low moans escaping his lips at the feeling of your tight, velvety walls finally rubbing deliciously against his shaft.

The head of his cock instantly brushed against your sweet spot, sending shivers of pleasure through your heat as you scratched his back wildly. “Please…please ugh! Move!”

Namjoon wasted no time, dragging out nearly all the way before slamming back in to the hilt with a lewd slap. Your folds were so wet each thrust made an embarrassingly loud squelch you were sure could be heard from outside but the way his cock was thick enough to stretch you out just the way you liked it and long enough to hit deeper than his fingers had earlier rendered you uncaring and speechless.

The pleasure was almost unbearable and you could feel your muscles clenching around him, drawing out a strangled moan against your neck. The action was enough to make him lose all control as he lifted your leg, pressing you into the wall with all his weight and slamming into you at a new angle that gave him access to your clit every time he bottomed out, making you scream with pleasure into the palm of his hand.

“Shit, Y/N,” He hissed, watching through lidded eyes as you lost it beneath him. “You’re going to make me cum if you keep making noises like that. Fuck!” Namjoon was getting sloppy now, barely able to keep his pace as he desperately tried to cling on to the edge while each of your whines made his cock feel like it may explode any second.

“Mmm, cum for me,” you moan, completely lost to the feeling of his hot cock sliding lewdly in and out of you. “Wanna feel you fill me up.”

“Holy fuck,” he stuttered, nearly falling out of you as the pleasure overwhelmed him. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this, being inside you, god.”

So he gets loose lipped when he’s close, huh? Cute.

“Want you to cum with me, fuck.”

His dirty admissions were enough to send you flying over the edge with a cry, his fingers coming between your legs to rub agonising circles into your clit as you rode out your high. Your vision went black, legs trembling and if it weren’t for Namjoon’s strong grip on your thighs you were sure you would nothing but a puddle by now.

“Fuck you got so tight, that’s it. Come for me baby.” A few sloppy strokes later and he was coating your walls with a low groan, connecting your lips in a breathless kiss as you whimper at the feeling of being filled and the overstimulation.

Namjoon presses his sweat slicked forehead against your own as you let your breath mingle, coming down from your highs. As your vision slowly returned, the train jerked, nearly sending you both flying if Namjoon wasn’t there to save you once again.

“Woah there.” He said quietly with a smile. He connected your lips for the nth time and you decided that although it was new you actually - no definitely - liked it. “Be careful.”

You were about to say something playful back before a transport announcement crackled over head.

TRAIN TERMINATING AT NEXT STOP.

You broke away from the kiss with a groan. “Shit shit shit! I’ve missed my stop!”

Breaking away from his grasp you hurriedly try to button up your coffee stained blouse, glancing around to locate your underwear which was out of sight.

“Looking for these?” A piece of fabric hit your chest. Your panties.

His calm demeanour was enough to replace the post orgasmic glow with a familiar feeling of rage towards him.

“Yes I was looking for those - and this is all your fault! If you didn’t take them off in the first place I wouldn’t be in this mess and this stupid fucking blouse would be clean and-”

Namjoon cut you off by pulling you against his chest, peppering your face in playful kisses as you tried to squirm out of his grasp. You gave up eventually, enjoying the warmth of his bare chest and nearly giggling with surprise when he placed a peck to both your cheeks.

“You…are…so…fucking…cute…when…you’re…mad.” Each word was punctuated with a kiss and you hit him away playfully.

His sudden change in behaviour took you by surprise. You had never seen this side of him before. A side that wasn’t a complete and utter dick (or in more recent discoveries, a possessive, rough love maker).

“I recall you saying I was hot when I was mad.”

“Yeah, but you’re also really fucking cute.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him with a pout. “See cute.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, earning a chuckle as he began to buckle his own trousers. “You know, the next stop is mine so you could always just come back to my place?”

“Huh?”

A blush crept onto his face as he rushed to explain himself. “No, not like that…unless you wanted to- no! What I meant was, you could come to my place and I could wash your blouse for you.”

You finished tidying up your skirt, watching with amusement as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t have enough spare cash for a taxi.”

“I’ll drive you home!” He said quickly. “You know, if you want me to…”

“Okay.” You said with a small smile. “Besides, I think I kind of owe you.” You nod towards the pityful remains of Namjoon’s manuscript which lay sodden in the sink, discarded at some point during your excitement earlier.

“Then this makes us even.”

“Deal.”

“Now, let’s hope the train is empty and if it’s not, get ready to run!”

#bts smut #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #kwordsmiths #btsguild #thebtstown #bts #namjoon fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #namjoon imagine #bts scenario #namjoon scenario #!!!!! this was longer than i expected but whew what a ride to write #also!! i have ideas for a sequel POTENTIALLY so lemme know if u liked it heh #my writing #fic: all aboard

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httpjeon · 5 years ago

Text

— 05. bunny blues: betrayal | yoongi & jungkook

yoongi/reader/jungkook | angst, fluff | hybrid!au

wordcount: 2k

contents: crying, mild arguments, protective!jk, lightly implied abandonment, namjoon is mentioned yay, implied to mxm relationship, implied reference to sex toys

― synopsis: while snooping in yoongi's room, you find something that turns things completely upside down.

note: now it's yoongi's turn to fuck up yay

blog masterlist ɪɴᴅᴇx: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 06 | 07 | 08

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Yoongi pressed, scratching your soft bunny ear, making you smile. "I can ask Hoseok or Jimin to—"

"It'll be okay, Yoongi," You reassured, taking his hand in yours. "I can be home alone, I promise!"

"Alright," Yoongi sighed, sliding his shoes onto his feet. "If you need anything, my cell number is by the phone okay?"

"And there's leftovers in the fridge, okay Bun?" Jungkook smiled, patting your head as you nodded.

"I know," You weren't really surprised by how difficult it was to get them to leave. They weren't exactly keen on letting you be home all by yourself. However, Yoongi had received a call that your dresser needed to be picked up. As it was heavy, Jungkook offered to join and help carry it. Since they would need to put the back seat down in Yoongi's car to fit the dresser, you didn't have a place to sit.

Thus, they came to the decision to leave you home alone for the first time.

Once they were gone and the house was quiet, you decided to sit and watch some TV. You sat and watched some cartoons Jungkook had introduced you to, letting the hours tick by quickly as you became engrossed in the colorful pictures and silly shenanigans of the characters.

However, when the good shows went off and something boring began to play, you got curious.

You were allowed in Yoongi's room and you had ventured in there whenever you helped with laundry or you needed to wake him up. But you hadn't ever been in there to really look around — you were almost scared you'd get in trouble. Though, deep down, you knew those feelings were unfounded. Yoongi had claimed numerous times what was his was yours and he wouldn't punish your natural curiosity of the space you lived in.

So with Yoongi and Jungkook gone — it was the perfect opportunity to have a look.

You almost felt like a spy as you crept into the bedroom.

You peeked through his night table, finding a little bottle of clear liquid with a label that said 'water-based lubricant'. Shrugging, you put it back where you found it and closed the drawer.

Next you began to snoop through his dresser — which resulted in nothing. So you decided to search his closet, touching his various work clothes before pausing when you lay your eyes on a box. It was sitting inconspicuously in the back of his closet and you were immediately curious of its contents.

Kneeling down, you unhooked the snaps that held it closed and opened it.

Inside, you were shocked to see an array of...toys, maybe? They were in different sizes but they all resembled the same cylindrical shape. However, there was also a collection of bulbous things and some had pretty gems on the end. You also found a few bandanas, pieces of rope, and even a pair of handcuffs.

You hummed, closing the box and leaving it alone — deciding to maybe ask Yoongi about it later if you could work up the courage to reveal your snooping.

The next place you had your sights on was his work desk — nestled in the corner of his room with a chair that you happily sat in. There was a laptop and a phone there that matched the one in the kitchen. Sometimes Yoongi would answer it from his desk when it rang. There was a file organizer that was similar to what Joonie had on his desk, you remember accidentally knocking it over one time which made Namjoon mad.

He'd hurt your feelings by yelling at you but immediately felt bad and took you out for some ice cream to apologize.

As you looked through the files, you found one with your name on it that was next to a similar one with Jungkook’s name on it. As much as you'd like to read what Jungkook's said, you were more curious to know what your file held.

When you flipped it open, you found an overview of your previous doctors appointments with your breed, height, and weight. It also contained the papers Namjoon had given Yoongi as a guide for your care. They had become worn and a little torn in some places from Yoongi, no doubt, diligently going over their contents numerous times. However, when you flipped past all of that you came across what appeared to be an advertisement.

'Looking for a good home for hybrid.

Breed: Holland Lop — Rabbit Hybrid

Name: _____

Sex: Female

Very loving and affectionate. Gets along well with other hybrids. Rehomed at least once prior.'

You stared at the paper, your picture plastered on the front of it — taken from your official papers you had to get renewed every year to remain a valid hybrid-citizens. Your eyebrows came together in confusion as you flipped past the page and found a list of names and numbers; people who were interested in adopting you. Yoongi had crossed out some names with little comments claiming a home ranging from 'too disorganized' to plain 'unfit'.

Your breathing began to speed up at the realization that Yoongi was looking to re-home you. Tears began to prick at your eyes as you felt a rush of emotions crash through you. You were sad, hurt, confused, angry and disappointed all in one. It was painful, made your chest hurt.

You didn't understand! You thought everything was going so well! He bought you so much stuff, he was out getting you a dresser so you could have even more clothes and belongings. Jungkook had accepted you as part of them, had shared his story with you.

All the while they were just planning on getting rid of you? So why go through all the trouble of making a room?

Perhaps Yoongi had found another hybrid to adopt — someone cuter, prettier, more well behaved, or someone Jungkook liked more than you.

You felt jealous and betrayed. You didn't realize you had crumpled the paper in your hands through your anger and tears.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and you jumped. Throwing the papers on the ground without a care, you stormed out of Yoongi's room to the front door.

You expected to see the two of them standing there and you were ready to yell at them. However, when you threw the door open, you were shocked to see a young man and woman standing there. They both looked as stunned as you felt. Though they had a perfect reason to feel shocked as a crying, angry bunny opened the door to greet them wearing an ugly frown.

"I-I...Are you okay?" The woman cooed, mouth dropping open in concern at your tears.

You halfway hid behind the door, sniffling pitifully.

"What do you want?" You muttered, trying not to sound rude though you did want them gone as soon as possible.

"Are you _____?" The man asked and you merely nodded.

"Is Min Yoongi here? He was supposed to visit us about your adoption..." The woman trailed off when you let out a little sob. “He didn't show up so we—”

"He's not here!" You snapped, ready to just slam the door.

"We—"

"What's going on?" A familiar voice growled and both the human's heads whipped around to see Jungkook standing at his full height — completely on guard, shoulders squared, at the sight of strangers and you crying. "What the hell did you do?!"

"Us?! We didn't do anything!" The man snapped, looking like he was going to approach Jungkook but froze when the hybrid snarled in response.

"Whoa, hey!" Yoongi finally jogged up, freezing when he took in everything that was going on. "And you are?"

"Park Sunhi and Kang Sangmin...you never showed up for the adoption consultation so we came to the address you gave us to see for ourselves!" Sunhi quickly explained, wanting to diffuse the situation as much as Yoongi.

"Adoption?!" Jungkook snarled, turning to glare at Yoongi who looked horrified.

"She just came to the door sobbing, my god," Sangmin snapped. "It's a good thing you're putting her up because you obviously have no idea how to care for her!"

"How dare you!" Yoongi was fuming now, not appreciating the accusation.

"She's not up for adoption!" Jungkook added, finally going inside to pull you against him where you began to cry once more.

"That's not your decision to make, mutt!" Sangmin argued, an insult which tore another growl from Jungkook.

You'd never seen the happy pup so angry before. His whole body was trembling against yours and his teeth were bared in pure aggression — like he was ready to attack the man at any moment. If looks could kill the man would be 6 feet under at that very second.

"P-Please calm down," Yoongi sighed, stepping in to block you and Jungkook from the strangers view, though Jungkook still towered over him from behind. "It was a mistake on my part. I forgot to inform you that she is no longer eligible for adoption."

"This is ridiculous! We drove all the way here from Gwangju!" Sangmin snapped.

"I-I know I'm sorry...it completely slipped my mind to cancel..." Yoongi explained, trying his best to diffuse the situation. "I'd be happy to compensate you for the money you spent to get here but—"

"Save your fuckin' money, asshole," Sangmin's hostile words had Jungkook growling again, pulling you deeper into his body protectively as he also reached to grip the back of Yoongi’s shirt ready to protect his owner as well.

"Honey—" Sunhi didn't have a chance to finish before her husband was pulling her away angrily.

Yoongi heaved a huge sigh before slowly closing the door. However, if he thought he was going to get a moment of reprieve, he was wrong.

"What the fuck, hyung?!" Jungkook cried, finally letting you go. You were shocked — it was the first time you'd ever heard him cuss or raise his voice in anger at Yoongi. "You were going to put her up for adoption?! How could you do that?"

"I-I'm sorry, Jungkook...____," Your name had you looking at him through teary eyes.

"Y-You don't want me?" You whimpered, tugging anxiously at your ear that flopped over your face sadly.

"Oh baby," Yoongi sighed, breezing past Jungkook to cup your cheeks in his hands. "The exact opposite."

"Th-Then why..."

"It was when you were depressed," Yoongi began to explain, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. "I thought you were unhappy with me and Jungkook. I thought that you'd be happier in another home so I was looking to find you someone you could live with..."

"B-But I wanna stay here!" You sobbed, bottom lip quivering. Jungkook moved forward again, burying his face in your neck to nose to scent you — trying to comfort you. Your shoulders relaxed in response as his spicy scent wafted around you, making you sniffle.

"I know that now," Yoongi squatted down at your feet, taking your hands in his and looking up at you. "And that's why I've actually been looking to officially adopt you."

There was a beat of silence before you were throwing yourself into Yoongi's arms, effectively knocking him over. He laughed, hugging you tightly with both arms around your waist.

"You mean it, hyung?" Jungkook asked, grinning as he kneeled down beside the two of you on hand on the back of your head with the other on Yoongi’s shoulder.

"Absolutely, I love you both to bits," Yoongi admitted and you gasped.

It was the first time he had told you he loved you!

"I love you too, Yoongi!" You squealed, rubbing your cheek against the soft material of his shirt. "And you too Kookie!"

"I-I love you guys too," Jungkook admitted, finally joining in on the group hug on the floor. His voice was a little watery as he held back tears but neither you or Yoongi mentioned it.

Not that Jungkook would admit getting emotional anyway.

Later on, Yoongi would come out of his bedroom flustered — cheeks and ears pink.

"_-_____ did you go through my closet?" He asked, which had Jungkook stiffening as well.

"Hm? Oh yeah!" You admitted carelessly, popping a raw carrot into your mouth.

"D-Did you look in our-my box?" He asked, looking like he was going to pass out when you nodded your head.

"Say, what are all those funny things in there anyway?"

Beside you, Jungkook choked on a chicken nugget.

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