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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

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Take Me Back | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Requested by anon! You broke up with Sunwoo because of long distance and he’s hated you ever since. When you meet up after three years, feelings resurface.

Genre: angst, ex to lovers au, enemies to lovers kinda, fluffy ending.

A/N: JESUS i know I said that I don’t have time because I LITERALLY DON’T. So don’t ask me why all this inspiration comes to me when I can’t even sit down to write -- I write on the way to and from work, it’s so sad -- so yeah. I hope you enjoy <3 <3

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Breaking up because of long distance was one of the biggest regrets of your life. The fact that you had to let him go because it was just getting too hard for your heart to cope was, in itself, heartbreaking. But you figured that it could get better, for the both of you, if you moved on with your lives without being tied at the hip with someone that was a continent away.

Except, the moment you had murmured your silent goodbyes, you had broken down into the most horrible, heartbreaking sobs that had ravaged your entire body. You cried and cried and cried, and wouldn't stop. The tears just wouldn't stop even when you told yourself that it was better this way, that he'd find someone better, stronger, it did nothing to ease the burning pain pulling your heartstrings apart.

One thing was for sure, Sunwoo's behaviour made things much easier. He'd grown distant first, curt and cold and isolating you, though you knew deep down it was a way to protect his own heart from the damage you'd inflicted on him.

But then he started ignoring your messages, spoke rudely whenever you did catch him on the phone. While you tried being understanding the first few times, you soon grew frustrated and annoyed that he'd act so childishly. The man you had once loved with all your heart had now been reduced to nothing but someone who kept digging holes into your heart.

You juggled the thought of asking him whether he hated your guts for what you did. You wouldn't judge him. On the contrary, you'd understand.

But you hadn't. Merely because the thought of losing him forever pained you.

Fast forward three years and here you were, sitting in a restaurant with a group of your high school friends, Sunwoo included. He'd nodded curtly at your appearance but did nothing more, causing your heart to squeeze in pain at the nostalgia kicking through your stomach.

"It's been years, Y/N. And you look the same," one of your good friends, Eric, jovially stated with a wink, already down by a few beers.

"Thanks Eric, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't go hitting on Sunwoo's ex with him right here," your classmate Raina said, "let's not end this dinner in a fight."

"I don't think Sunwoo minds," you mumbled loud enough for it to reach everyone's ears.

"You're right, I don't care," Sunwoo's voice -- still as deep, still as gorgeously beautiful and rough. An obvious contrast to the iciness of his words like pricks aimed at your heart.

You tried your best to brush off his comment, turning to Raina to ask her about any updates about her love life.

As the night wore on and people fell into deeper conversation, others left with excuses that they had spouses to return to, families waiting for them. Until there's only you and Eric in a corner, with Sunwoo at the bar, chatting up a gorgeous girl that looked like she had just walked out of a magazine spread.

"Still doesn't wanna talk huh?" Eric took a swig of his drink.

You shook your head, "he hates me, Eric."

"No he doesn't."

"Yes, he does.He can't even look at me in the eye without scowling."

"Bollocks. You just don't see it."

"What's there to see?" You scoffed, "if killing me was legal he would've done it ages ago."

Hesitating slightly, Eric takes another swig of his drink before replying, "look, I can't speak for him. But...you'll just have to talk to him yourself."

"Fuck no, I'm not doing that," you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Stubbornness never looked good on anyone."

You pulled out your tongue in response.

"Childish," Eric's eyebrow rose in amusement. Before you could defend yourself though, the said man turned to call out Sunwoo's name and you watched in growing horror as Sunwoo walked over to your table.

"Right," Eric jumped up from his seat as though it was on fire, "Sunwoo, keep her company. I'm off to see my girlfriend."

"What? No--" but Eric was already out of the door before Sunwoo's protests were heard, resulting in an awkward air hanging off your table the moment he turned, causing you to quickly drop your eyes to the beer you were nursing.

"You don't have to stay here," came your mumble.

You felt him shift in his seat before he said, "even if I am, I'm not doing this for you."

"I know," you shot back, gaze flitting up to clash with his mahogany orbs, ones that you remembered held so much love and tenderness before. They were now cold, dark with silent seething anger. You continued, "I know you're not. I never asked you to."

"Then stopping looking at me like that," he snapped, "you of all people should know how tough this is for me."

"Sunwoo, it's been three years--"

"Don't," he cut you off with a hiss, "talk about that."

Rage started to bubble in your stomach, "I don't understand whether you hate me, or whether you’ve just turned into this rude annoying person that nobody can stand.”

He seemed to have been slapped by your statement, stayed silent for a few minutes as he clasped his drink a little tighter.

Knowing Sunwoo, he was probably silently seething from what you'd just said. Your own fingers clenched around your beer, hating how easily he could upset you even after all these years.

When he spoke next, his alto was slightly softer, a little less harsh on you, "I don't hate you."

"Doesn't seem like it to me."

There was a pause in which you managed to recollect your emotions, the anger simmering down to cold remorse at how badly you had left things.

"I'm sorry," you murmured out, avoiding his eyes in case he saw the pain that consumed you, "I know it's not easy for you. It's not easy for me either."

"I don't hate you, Y/N," Sunwoo's alto was gentle this time, without any of the malice of the earlier hour, "I...It just hurts me, every time I see you I can't stop thinking of what we were before. I--" he shifted and you managed to lift your orbs up to his, only to see guilt swimming through his as he choked out, "I miss you."

Emotion tightened your chest. Tears rushed to your eyes, "I miss you too."

You stayed unmoving, your eyes saying everything that your words couldn't. The music boomed around you, filled the empty silence that would've swallowed you whole otherwise.

When you felt your ex-boyfriend move in your peripheral, you glanced at him, noticing for the first time the tired lines around his eyes. What looked like resignation was set on his face.

And then he was pushing his hair back, muttering a string of excuses about how he couldn't do this anymore before he walked right out of the bar, with you gaping at his retreating form.

"Sunwoo! Hey--" you scrambled up to chase after him, stumbling over your feet as you gripped your bag clumsily. Running out into the street to see him already steps ahead of you, you quickly jogged up to his frame, not taking into account the nervous fluttering through your chest.

"Hey, wait! Sunwoo!" You gripped onto his arm and pulled him back. He resisted.

You started blurting things out anyway, desperate to make things right, desperate to take away the pain he felt.

"Sunwoo I'm sorry," you stumbled on as he quickened his stride, "I never--I never meant to hurt you, I-- I thought that it was best for both of us at the time, I didn't--" your words were choked, laced with emotion, "I didn't know how hard it would be."

He stopped so abruptly you almost walked into his back.

His shoulders shook as he spoke, "when we broke up, I couldn't stop thinking. Did I do something wrong? Should I have done more?" He took a breath, "I wasn't living, Y/N. I barely ate. I kept seeing you everywhere I went. It was-- it was horrible," his alto broke at the last word.

You took a step closer. Tentative. Hesitant. Hands tightened into fists.

He continued, "and it never got better. I thought it would. That's what they all said. But three years have passed. Three years and I still feel like I lost the most precious fucking thing in my life and I can't live with myself because of that."

You couldn't feel your heart, which was tightening with pain and sympathy that mirrored his words. Memories of you crying into your pillow as you willed all of your love to disappear, memories of the dull ache stretching across your ribs because you had cried too much.

You opened your mouth, an apology on the tip of your tongue, when Sunwoo swivelled around so fast you barely blinked, his hands finding your shoulders in a tight grip.

"Y/N," His eyes were red and red-rimmed as they searched yours in growing desperation, "look Y/N, what I had-- what we had, I miss that. I miss us. Please, I--" swallowing thickly as his grip tightened on you, he continued, "you can do anything. Anything, Y/N. Break me. Use me. Do whatever the fuck you want but just-- just--" his chest heaved with a shaky inhale, a sob echoing from his throat, "just let me be yours again."

The silence that followed was deafening. You couldn't believe your ears. Your heart beat so loud you felt it vibrate against your ribcage.

His chest heaved, his breaths coming out short and static as he stared at you, waiting, hoping.

There were so many things, so many things you wished to say at this very moment, so many things that you had regretted the moment you had parted ways with this amazing man.

And now, to hear that he wanted you back, that he was still undoubtedly, irrevocably in love with you was enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes as another wave of pure hope crashed through your heart and flooding it with light.

"Y/N," Sunwoo searched your eyes, "say something--"

You did. Jumped up to press your mouth against his.

He stumbled, hands finding purchase at your waist.

And when he kissed you back, all thoughts flew out of your head only to leave Sunwoo's taste engulfing your entire being like you had never stopped loving him from the first day you met.

It was pure, utter bliss. It was like finding the lost lover that had parted ways with you at sea. Sunwoo's mouth was hard on your own as he moved with the same grace, the same fluidity that left you breathless. His grip tightened, fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt to rest on your lower back as sparks ignited beneath your half-closed lids. Everything came crashing back; the memories, the happiness, the giddy excitement that erupted in the form of goosebumps and electrical sizzles over your limbs whenever Sunwoo kissed you.

It had never stopped. And at this very moment, you wondered briefly why you had forced him away when your heart was still irrevocably his.

One hand coming up to cup your jaw, he proceeded to tilt your head back to suckle onto your lower lip, the action causing a gasp to die in your throat while your hands tightened around his neck, pulling him even closer if that was possible.

Sunwoo's chest rumbled with a choked up moan, tongue darting out to meet yours halfway while a soft whimper echoed through your throat. You tried to match his movements, to kiss back as passionately as he was kissing you. But it was almost like Sunwoo was trying his best to make up for all the time you's spent apart, his mouth permanently pressed on yours and when you turned to catch your breath, he kissed your cheek, the corner of your eye, pulling you into him to imprint another kiss at the base of your neck.

You shuddered with emotion, body lighting up on fire and heat pooling through your stomach. Turning your head back until your noses brushed, your breath caught when your eyes locked, for Sunwoo's gaze was one of fierce, intense affection, as though you were something he'd sworn to protect his whole life.

"Don't," his gaze softened, thumb brushing your lower lip, "don’t ever leave me again, I--” his own lips trembled, "I don't know how...how I'll live with myself if you do."

You knew that words were going to be useless at this point, so you just nodded, biting down on your lower lip as he leaned in and dropped a kiss near your temple.

It was weird after so long, to have his body so close and his scent overwhelming your senses, a reminder of many long nights where you'd cuddled up to sleep on his chest. Just the memory made your lips tilt into a soft amile.

That grabbed his attention, "what are you thinking about?" He murmured.

"About you," your soft maroon clash with his intense dark chocolate, "about how stupid it was to have given up on us, because all this time apart feels like a waste. And I feel so stupid."

"It's not your fault Y/N," he smoothed a hand over the side of your head as his gaze softened, "there were so many things working against us. And maybe-- maybe it was right, at this time."

Your head tilted upwards to watch him. You felt his fingers, absentmindedly drumming against your lower back and igniting a line of sparks up your spine.

He continued, "I wouldn't have known, how important you were to me, how you filled up such a major part of my life--Oh shit. You're crying?" He was quick to catch your incoming tear with his thumb, panic flashing through his features, "Y/N? What is it? What did I say?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing I just--I’m so sorry I broke up with you,” you blurted out as silent tears trailed down your cheeks. Shaking your head and looking up into his maroon orbs, you impulsively reached up to cup his face with your hands. Lucky, your subconscious chanted. You were lucky to have someone like him.

"Come here,” You didn’t protest when Sunwoo’s arms tugged you into his broad chest -- was it broader? You felt like it was-- before his head rested atop yours. Another softest of pecks was imprinted atop your forehead, then your nose, before he dipped his head for a chaste kiss upon your mouth.

It felt like a promise. It felt like a message conveyed from him to you, that he wasn’t about to let go, prompted even more when he wound his arms around your frame in a firm, yet gentle hug.

You pillowed your head against his chest, closed your eyes, and counted all your blessings.

You were definitely counting Sunwoo as one. And you’d make sure that you wouldn’t be as foolish as to let go of him ever again.

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eideticmemory · 5 years ago

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EVER SINCE NEW YORK | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 1! - for Sara [@bravadostyles], the ultimate muse.

SOUNDTRACK:

Empire State of Mind - Jay Z.

Animals - Maroon 5.

Dopamine - Børns.

Word Count: 4,731.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Freshman Year.

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City.

“You’ve got that face on,” Claire said.

“What face is that, Claire?”

“Your trademark ready-to-go-home face,” she giggled. “You tired?”

“Just a little,” you whispered, head resting on her shoulder, feet hanging off the bed. “Had a long day at rehearsal.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, if you wanna go, we can go. I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you shook your head, and placed your hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’m having a good time.”

Soft music played through the small speakers on Jonathan’s desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone sat in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on John’s bed, and you and Claire rested on his roommate’s bed. Open solo cups of beer were scattered amongst the room. It was calm, chill, and then the door swung open.

“Yoooooo!” The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Johnathan, who hopped off his bed and ran towards the entrance.

“Gube!” John exclaimed, arms open wide to embrace his friend. He always got a little touchy-feely when he was tipsy. “Where the hell you been, man?”

“Consider my good time ruined,” you murmured to Claire.

“Be nice, [y/n],” she responded, patting your leg. “Everyone’s having a nice time, don’t start anything.”

“Me? Me? I don’t start anything, I never start anything. It’s him who starts it. That di—“

“Hey, [y/n],” Matthew greeted, taking a seat beside John. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Gube,” Claire smiled. She gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow.

You rolled your eyes, “Hi, Matthew,” you reluctantly replied, refusing to make eye contact.

“Aw, c’mon, that’s all I get?” Matthew teased. “What’s wrong, sleeping beauty? You tired?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you told him, finally looking over at him. He wore a white polo, paired with a busted pair of jeans and white converse with his mismatched socks poking out. On his chest sat his trademark gold chain, the medallion set in the center of his sternum.

“Might be past your bedtime,” he shrugged. “Really. Might be better if you just left.”

“Me?” You scoffed. “Why don’t you leave? We were perfectly fine before you got here.”

“Oh, God,” someone groaned. “Here they go.”

“John wants me here. I’m a little more fun than someone who falls asleep mid-conversation, so I can see why.”

“Matthew, why are you talking to me? Can you just pretend,” you waved your arms around. “Pretend there’s a wall here.”

“Don’t mind her,” Claire interjected. “She’s crabby because she hasn’t started editing her project yet.”

You gasped, “Why would you just announce that, Claire? I didn’t wanna be reminded of that.”

“[y/n], you’re gonna be fucked if you don’t get that shit done. It’s due next week.” Another friend told you.

You groaned, “Yes. I know that. But I’ve been killing myself practicing for the show every night. And when I finally sat down to start editing, I didn’t know how to work the damn software!”

“You don’t know how to work EasyEdit?”

“No,” you sighed. “I missed class that day. I tried to learn on YouTube, and that confused me even more. So, I have since then given up.”

“Hm,” John hummed. “You know who’s really good with EasyEdit?”

“Who?”

“Gube,” John answered. This prompted Matthew to lift his head up at astronomical speed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He taught me how to use it. He could help you, [y/n].”

“John...” Claire said.

“What, Claire?” John replied. “[y/n] needs help and Gube can help. I’m just saying.”

You cut your eyes over to Matthew, who was watching you, but he quickly turned away when you made eye contact.

“You’re not clever,” Claire shook her head. “You’re nosey is what you are.”

“Nosey?” You pipped, tapping Claire’s arm. “What do you mean nosey?”

“I mean, if you and Gube just...” John said. “I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

“And stop arguing all the damn time,” someone added. “The shit’s annoying.”

Your jaw had been dropped since the word ‘fucked’ was uttered. You looked up at Claire who gave you a sympathetic smile.

“I-“ You stuttered. “I...never say that again, John! Ever. Ew!”

“Ew?” Matthew exclaimed. “You’d be lucky if I tossed you a bone.”

Your jaw dropped even lower, stunned by Matthew’s words. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you muttered. “And this is who you want me to allow near my final project?” You directed at John.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna fuck me, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Matthew taunted, biting his lip and tilting his head.

“No. I don’t wanna fuck you! I also don’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. So I will learn EasyEdit by myself.”

“Okay,” Matthew shrugged. “You’re not gonna figure that shit out in time, but fine, princess. Be stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance.

“[y/n], let Gube help,” Claire said. “You’re gonna drive yourself insane with that and the show coming up, plus finals? Just this once.”

You looked over at Matthew, instantly getting angry again. Hate is a strong word. It’s a very, very strong word. And you’d never use it against anybody. Ever. Except Matthew Gubler. That may sound a bit dramatic, so to clear up any confusion, here’s a composite list of every asshole, dick, bastard, bitch-ass move he’s made in one semester:

1. Broke your editing equipment trying to do magic tricks in class.

2. Didn’t apologize.

3. Called your last documentary “uninspired, dry, a little like a lullaby.”

4. Took the last spot for an internship over Christmas break.

5. Which he knew you wanted.

6. Refused to partner with you on a final project because “you can’t even get to class everyday.”

7. In front of everyone because he’s a jackass.

8. Told you that you were insane for majoring in film making AND ballet.

9. Proceeded to tell you that you look better in a leotard than a suit.

10. Fucked your roommate.

11. While you were in the room.

12. Insisted that Wes Craven is a better horror director than Tim Burton? Is he dumb?

13. Calls you ballerina barbie, short stack, princess, anything other than your actual name.

14. Won’t drop dead.

And, because you’re not going to let anyone treat you that way, here’s a list of things you’ve done in retaliation:

1. “Accidentally” stepped on his canvas.

2. 3 times.

3. Uploaded a video of you calling him a dick in place of his documentary.

4. Yes, he did play it for the class on accident.

5. Told him you didn’t want to be his partner anyway since he walks around stoned 24/7.

6. Laughed.

7. Told him he’d be a good ballerina. His tiny dick would fit perfectly in a leotard.

8. Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project.

9. Told him none of Edgar Allan Poe’s work was actually interesting enough for screen time. (He almost passed out, he got so mad.)

10. Told him his mismatch socks were dumb.

11. Consistently call him asshole, dick, jackass, or just Matthew. All synonyms.

12. Refuse to let him mess with you.

So, the idea of him helping you with your project, coming into your room, bothering you for hours on end, was a ridiculous thought. You should punch John for even mentioning it. Except. It wasn’t a bad idea.

“Hey, pants stay on,” Matthew said, giving you a smirk. “Boy Scouts honor.”

Everyone was looking at you. It made you queasy. Annoyed. Angry. And you couldn’t take it. So, you sighed heavily and cut your eyes towards Matthew. “Fine,” you grimaced. “Fine. Monday night. You will teach me how to use EasyEdit. And then we can all drop this.”

“Ah, success,” John cheered. “I’m not worried, though. Look at [y/n], she’s so innocent. She looks like she belongs on top of a Christmas tree. She does ballet for crying out loud. I doubt fucking is on her to-do list.”

“And on that note,” you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.”

Your room was just down the hall, and you showered, changed, brushed your teeth and got into bed in all of 30 minutes. Just about to fall asleep, you were disturbed by the sound of keys jingling in the door. Sloppy footsteps stumbled into the room, accompanied by silly giggles.

Thinking you were asleep, your roommate admired your sleeping frame, “Awwww,” she cooed. “Precious, precious, [y/n].” She walked over to you and rubbed your shoulder.

“You’re crazy to not wanna fuck Matthew,” she whispered, chuckling. “You don’t know what you’re missing, kid.”

And you stayed still, silent, pretended to snore. All while Claire crawled into her bed.

When Monday rolled around, you spent the entire day with a chip on your shoulder. Claire kissed the top of your head and insisted you’d be fine, that your project would be done by the end of the night and you’d be grateful for Matthew’s help. But she knew that was a dead cause in her heart of hearts. You both knew it’d be a miracle if Matthew and you made it through 15 minutes of editing.

When she left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into pajama pants, combined with a cozy cropped button sweater. You sat at your desk, and waited. You’d told Matthew to arrive at 7.

He got there at 7:59.

By then, you were laying in bed, pissed and upset that you’d actually been convinced to give Matthew a chance. He knocked on the door, and you answered with an attitude. “Go home, Matthew.”

“Don’t be like that, short stack,” he sighed, following you as you stomped into the room. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? What’d you get caught up with? A gram?” You spit.

He laughed, “Haha, so funny. No, I was not getting high. I was working on my own project. That I finished. Ahead of time. Can you relate, [y/n]?”

“Get out of my room,” you scoffed. “I asked you for one thing. One. And you couldn't even do that. You knew how important this project was to me, and you didn’t give a fuck. I wasted time waiting for you that I could’ve been working or rehearsing! I—Are you listening?”

Matthew’s eyes had been concentrated solely on your chest, “Are you wearing a bra?” He asked.

You took a step back, stunned, blinking rapidly as you searched around the room. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just trying to find where the hell that came from?”

“It came from that itty bitty shirt you’re wearing,” he replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.”

“Stop staring at my tits!” You shouted, face turning red. “God, Matthew, I can’t stand to look at you right now. Just, leave. Please.”

He did not stop staring at your tits. Not for a very long time. But when he did, he had this look in his eyes. Like a wire had snapped. And he kissed you. Cupped your face in his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. You pressed your hands against his chest, face contorting in shock and confusion.

You pushed him away, lips retracting with a sharp smacking noise. Saliva dripped from your lips, and you stood there, huffing and puffing like the two of you had just run a mile. “What the hell was that?” You snapped, your fingertips lightly touching your bottom lip.

He didn’t reply. He was just as speechless as you were. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so, so pretty. He was so pretty. Has he always been that pretty?

You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Matthew’s hand gripped onto your hair, his body pushing itself against yours in an eager attempt to get as close to you as possible. His other hand made its way to your waist, gripping onto your skin so hard, his nails left marks. Both his hands began to snake down your body, landing on the back of your thighs.

Very suddenly, Matthew scooped you up in his arms, yanking your feet off of the ground. You let out a breathy ‘oof’ as you found yourself perched in his grasp, your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supported your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth.

He carried you over to your bed, where he abruptly dropped you onto the mattress, and looked down at you with a lustful grin. Standing beside the bed, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you — slowly, with his hands reaching out to touch your body — but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on your ribs and pushed your sweater up, over your breasts to reveal your chest.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

Your breath caught in your throat, before you released it shakily. His lips wrapped around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you gripped onto his hair in ecstasy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He sucked harder, to the point of pain, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise. When one nipple began to pulse between his lips, he moved to the other, leaving a trail of love bites between them.

The heat between your legs was suffocating, and you rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Matthew noticed this, and proceeded to stick his hands down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirked at how soaked you were already and rubbed your clit as he licked a trail up to your neck. You tightened your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets.

The sound caused Matthew to take in a sharp breath of air. His cock was pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and was getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your nerve, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs.

He nibbled on your ear, and as you gave him a quiet moan, your eyes flickered down to look between your bodies. Flushed, and horny, and suddenly so desperate, you grabbed onto Matthew’s large erection and pressed the tip against your clit.

He grunted and pulled back to stare you in the eye, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He laughed, “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Innocent? Innocent, my ass.”

As you rolled your eyes at him, he kissed your lips softly, hands holding onto your thighs. You positioned his cock at your entranced and allowed him to press into you. He stood up straight, watching his cock disappear inside you, slowly, steadily, before he suddenly slammed into you. The sound of skin colliding on skin mixed in with your and Matthew’s moans, and he watched your head roll back in pleasure.

He licked his lips, smirking. And he did it again. And again. And again. Pulling out all the way and pushing back into you. Hard. The sensation struck your chest, and elicited vulnerable moans from you every time he pounded you. Matthew instantly began to speed his hips up, nails digging into your thighs as he pressed your legs open for him. His used all his strength to fuck you, your head knocking into the wall with every thrust. It was sloppy and messy and you couldn’t stop whimpering. Your eyes were screwed shut, and when you opened them again, the first thing you noticed with his chain. The gold medallion dangled in your face, Matthew’s lips pressed against your cheek.

Absentmindedly, you tangled your fingers in the chain, tugging on it as your volume increased. “Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, fuck.”

He brought his hand up to your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, quietly, softly. And you did it without thinking. His thumb slid into your mouth, twirling around your tongue and stifling your moans.

He removed his hand and placed his thumb on your clit, wetting the skin with your own saliva. You let out a loud yelp at the new sensation, and a bubble instantly formed in your stomach.

Oh, no, not Matthew, you thought. Don’t let it be Matthew.

But with his cock and his hips and the way he kissed your neck and rubbed your sensitive nerve all at once. You came, you came with a fit of pornographic moans, trembling and writhing around on the bed.

And it was Matthew — the first guy to make you come. Ever.

He licked his lips as he watched you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he pulled out of you and released himself onto your chest, watching the fluid cover the hickies he’d left there.

He looked angelic on top of you, moaning, panting, swearing under his breath. But the moment he finished, he stepped back, fastened his pants and walked away. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him in a daze.

Matthew logged onto your computer, pressed a few buttons and then closed the laptop shut. Then he left.

However, the next day he sent you an email. Your project. Fully and perfectly edited.

Okay. So, that happened. They said it would happen and it happened. Didn’t necessarily make you hate Matthew any less, but it happened. It was good. You hated to admit it. And it was all you could think about. You couldn’t even touch yourself or hold your pillow without thinking of Matthew. It was bad.

Especially, given the fact that after the whole situation, he decided not to talk to you. At all. Not in class, not while hanging out with friends, not even to pick a fight. Complete and utter radio silence. He looked at you enough though. Not while you were looking at him, of course. So, as far as you knew, you were far off of his mind. But life had to go on. You had to focus on school, and on top of that, you were due to perform in NYU’s production of Swan Lake in less than two weeks.

You landed the main role of Odette, meaning for the next two weeks, you had to eat, sleep, breathe ballet. You practiced for hours on end, barely saw your friends, which gave you a good break from seeing Matthew.

Opening night rolled around and you were so nervous, you thought you might puke. Only a freshman, it was a miracle you landed the role in the first place, which meant your performance tonight was a make or break moment. Claire could tell you were sick to your stomach and tried to distract you by taking a bunch of pictures on her phone.

“Smile, pretty girl!” She beamed, the flashing going off in your face as you posed. “[y/n], you’re gonna kill it! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah...” you whispered. “Deathly excited.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she swung her arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna be front and center, cheering you on. Just focus on me, okay?”

You smiled and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.”

Your body was on autopilot out on stage. The movements you’d practiced everyday, for hours and hours on end, just flowed. The lighting in the audience was dark, but you could just barely make out Claire’s figure under the soft hue.

It wasn’t until the finale, when you stood ready for your closing performance, that the lights switched to their full intensity and you noticed a hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. An arm resting behind her head. Someone whispering in her ear, making her laugh.

Matthew.

He was here. He was here and he was with Claire. He was with Claire and he was watching you. And it made your stomach feel weird. But then the music kicked up. So, you had to go. You fell into your dance, your rhythm and for some reason, you could not stop staring at Matthew.

Every twirl, you made him your focal point. Looking at him again, and again, and again. Until the lights went out.

Supporting ballerinas cheered you on as you walked offstage, throwing flowers at your feet and giving you applause. Your instructor marched right up to you, kissed both sides of your face and embraced you. It was a wonderful feeling, but right then, you were drained, emotionally, mentally, physically, you needed some rest.

You locked yourself away in your dressing room, taking a seat in the mirror and beginning to remove your tights. Pressing a makeup wipe to your skin, you jumped, startled by a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and walked to the entrance casually, expecting Claire to greet you.

 But you froze, as soon as you opened the door. Eyes glazing over the person in front you, your breath caught in your throat. “Matthew.”

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked you up and down — your naked legs, your breasts poking through the thin material of the leotard. “You...you were amazing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You attempted to close the door on him, but his put his elbow against the frame, stopping it in motion. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is your problem?” He closed the door behind him.

“My problem is that I’m very tired, and still need to change, and greet everyone waiting for me. So, I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

You ducked your head down, “Nothing. Nothing. You need to leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey, ballerina barbie,” he mocked. “What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal! I have nothing to say to you Matthew. Same way you have nothing to say to me.” You scrunched up your face in a frown.

“I...” he paused, laughing under his breath. “I never said I didn’t have something to tell you. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked up at him — the gel in his hair, his black button down shirt flowing over his belt buckle, his dark eyes, his lips and the way they were pouting just a little. And like a magnet, you found yourself being pulled towards him. You jumped into his arms, hands on his face, and connecting your lips, mouths open, tongues touching.

Matthew held you up, moaning against your lips. “Mm,” you hummed. “Wait, what if someone comes in?”

Matthew thought quickly, hiking you up in his arms and shoving your back against the door. “Well, now they can’t get in, can they?” He mumbled, leaving kisses along your neck.

Your jaw dropped and you started to undo his belt, freeing his cock from his pants. He grunted against your skin as you stroked him, your head leaned back against the door, your chest heaving. You used your other hand to pull your leotard to the side, revealing your throbbing core.

Matthew smirked, letting you guide his dick to your entrance, and pushed his way into you swiftly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck to keep yourself quiet. His thrusts were quick, rough, messy. He was much more vocal this time, making no effort to stay silent.

“Fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “F-fuck, I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.”

The feeling was mutual. For the past month, you’d be wondering what the hell about Matthew had you so stuck. So fixated on him. And this was it. He filled you up perfectly, could manhandle you however he wanted, and always, always made sure you came.

He fucked you harder when he noticed your orgasm nearing — your quickened breaths, frequent moans and whines, and your legs tightening against his torso. “Oh, my God,” you whimpered.

“Shit, are you gonna come?” He asked. “Good.”

Breathless, speechless, you stared into his eyes helplessly as your body began to crumble. All power left your body and you held onto his shirt for dear life. He gave you a small smile, and flipped his hair out of his face, looking down at his cock. He could pinpoint the exact stroke that did it. The one that sent you into a state of euphoria, sent your eyes rolling back, your body into intense shock.

You let out a long and weakened sigh as the wave washed over you, and Matthew continued to plow into you like nothing was happening.

“It’s so cool how your pussy tightens up when you come,” he chuckled. “It’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, clawing at the back of his neck. His breathing became ragged and hoarse, and he had to pull out of you before he came. He jerked himself off until he exploded onto your clothing. And with you being dressed in all black, his stains stood out perfectly on your costume.

This time, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before he left.

The week after that was finals week. And neither of you could be bothered to reach out. Despite the not-so-subtle confession of bitterness and the very intense orgasms you shared, you and Matthew simply went back to not talking. Your friends thought it was strange, even commented that they missed the bickering. The two of you shrugged in response.

Most of your dorm room was in boxes by the time you finished your last final exam. Claire was slower to pack up than you were, considering she only lived an hour away, but she applauded you for your determination. The day Claire did start packing was the day before you left for the summer. The two of you spent the day getting everything cleared out, cleaned, squared away.

While the two of you sat on your bed, watching Netflix, a knock sounded from your door. Claire hopped up and headed towards the entrance, opening it with a grand smile. “Gube!” She shouted, instantly opening her arms for a hug. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her into the room with a smile.

“Are you about to leave?” She asked him, holding onto his arms as he placed her feet back on the ground.

“Yeah, my mom’s here. So, I wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” he nodded.

“Aw, Gube, you softie,” she giggled. “[y/n], come say bye.”

“I can say bye from right here, Claire,” you replied. She gave you a look, and you felt compelled to get off the bed. So you did, you approached them, “Bye, Matthew.”

“Bye, shortcake,” he laughed. “Bye, Claire.” He pulled your roommate into another hug, while you stood there, crossing your arms in annoyance.

Matthew peeked at you over Claire’s shoulder. One hand rubbed her back and the other reached out to you, holding a small note.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, then the note, then Claire. You ripped the paper from his hand, and stuffed it into your pocket right away. He smirked at you, and turned his attention back to Claire.

“Hey,” he said to her. “Come back to my place, I want everyone there to show my mom I actually have friends.”

Claire chuckled and nodded, “Okay,” she shrugged. “Let’s go. [y/n], you coming?”

“Uh, no,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna keep packing, but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Claire smiled, and she let Matthew whisk her away.

You sighed, and as soon as the door closed, you pulled the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. You opened it up to reveal — not a meaningful message, not even a few words. Just one string of numbers, writing in his handwriting:

505.

[PART 2.]

#mine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fic #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler/reader #matthew gray gubler smut #college!matthew #esny

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inseongsfoxybae · 4 years ago

Text

Fireworks

Pairing: Hwiyoung + Female Reader; friends to lovers

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Words: +1,6k

Requested by @geminirules: This is the first I ask for a request from you Blue!🥰 I was wondering if I can have a request with Hwiyoung where him and the reader are on their first date together in the amusement park, please? 🥺 Thank you so much love you lots! x

Author’s message: Hey, baby! Your request made me so soft and in love and I really had a great time working on it. Now, it’ here and I hope you like it and feel free to send in more requests later 🥰 Love you too, Luna ❤️ Foxy kisses 😘

P.S: As english is not my mother language, it may contain misspelled. Also, sorry for any other mistakes :)

Synopsis: After keeping your feeling just to yourselves, you and Hwiyoung finally had the chance to take one step further in a lovely and funny way to enjoy each other.

so precious 🥺

You were close friends with Hwiyoung. Best friends. More than friends, maybe. But not valentines.

None of you went out on dates or flirted around. You knew he liked you, he knew you liked him and everyone knew you liked each other. But the two of you were too shy to take the first step to turn this into something more.

Although you used to be together all the time, it was always working or studying or just doing nothings in a bookstore, each one minding your own business.

In an afternoon, when the two of you were working together, heads very close to each other and hands touching, Hwiyoung looked at you and got the courage to go further.

“Do you have plans for saturday?”, he asked in a low tone, his eyes meeting yours for a moment.

“No, I’m free. Why?”, you answered not really understanding his intentions.

“Wanna go on a date with me?”, he spat his words so fast you almost didn’t get it.

But you did. You clearly understood every single letter he just said to you. For a moment, you couldn’t believe what your ears just heard, your confused mind running hysterically, unable to form a decent sentence as response.

“Earth calling Y/N”, Hwiyoung waved one hand right in front of your frozen wide eyes. He looked a little nervous, maybe embarrassed, as if he regretted what he said.

“Yes”, you said a little too excited, your hands shaking and voice cracking. Oh, my god. Kim Hwiyoung asked me out finally, a voice screamed into your head. You locked your eyes with Hwiyoung’s and repeated. “Yes… I want to go on a date with you”, you tried to answer calmly, but you were sure he could hear your heart pounding hard into your chest.

Hwiyoung smiled, that sweet gummy smile that always made you melt, and you couldn’t help grinning too, soft giggles following, as you felt your cheeks burn at an unknown happiness.

Sunlight broke into your room through your thin curtains, signaling that a new day was beginning. But it wouldn’t be like any other day, because today, specially and unexpectedly, you and Hwiyoung were going on a date. After more than a year keeping your feelings just for yourselves, this moment was really happening.

You jumped out your bed and walked into your closet to carefully choose the perfect outfit. Hwiyoung hadn’t told you where you would spend the day, but you wanted to give him a good impression and show all your beauty and cuteness. You picked some shorts and a shirt that matched with your favourite sneakers - cute and simple clothes that made you pretty and comfortable.

Hwiyoung picked you up at 10a.m and you had breakfast together in a cozy café, but he still didn’t tell you where you were going after that. “It's a surprise and I’m sure you’ll love it”, he winked and you laughed, getting more excited at every minute.

Hwiyoung drove you to a place a little far from the city. The road side was beautiful, with flowers and trees all around, matching perfectly with the bright sun up there.

You were so amazed with nature, that you didn't realize where he was taking you till he parked at a place you didn’t know it. You two got out of the car and your heart raced faster when you found out you were spending your day in an amusement park.

Your parents used to take you to this amusement park when you were a child and you loved playing around and ate junk foods. It was a long time since the last time you were here and it brought up great memories from you.

“I bought the tickets online. Let’s go”, Hwiyoung grabbed your hand and led you to the entrance. You felt like exploding, but you didn’t know if it was because of your excitement of being here or because of the warmth of his hands on yours.

Both of you were like children in an amusement park for the first time, grinning and laughing non-stop. “Where do you want to go first?”, Hwiyoung asked and you said you wanted to start it slow and decided to go on the bumper car. “Is this slow for you?”, he wondered, but went with you and of course he enjoyed it as well.

And it was like that throughout the day: Hwiyoung always asked you to choose the next attraction to play. Also, he paid for all the junk food you had and won a stuffed unicorn for you.

When the sunset was approaching and the park was getting more alive with its beautiful lights, Hwiyoung said he wanted to go on more two attractions - the carousel and the beautiful ferris wheel on the center of the park.

His eyes met yours and got stuck on them, his gaze was deep as you felt your legs getting weak. You could get lost in his look, could give yourself to him effortlessly. Right there in that moment, you wanted to be his.

Hwiyoung took your hand and his thumb caressed your palm before leading you to the carousel, where you sat on horses right next to each other. When it started to spin, you glanced at him and caught him looking at you, but it was not any look, it was like he was in trance, it was like he was in love.

You felt your cheeks burn but didn’t look away and both of you kept staring at each other, light smiles gracing your faces as you got lost in the words your eyes spoke.

When the carousel stopped, Hwiyoung helped you to get off your horse, his hands lingering longer on your waist as you held out on his broad shoulders, eyes locked. “Let’s go to the last one”, he mumbled as you stared at his mouth, falling deeper and deeper for him. You nodded and he guided you to the ferris wheel.

It was the main attraction of the amusement park, so you had to wait a little on the line while sharing a cotton candy. “Do you know what they say about this ferris wheel?”, you heard a girl talking behind you. As the other person said no, she continued. “If a couple kissed at the uppermost, their fate is to be together forever”.

Hwiyoung choked at her words, but tried to play cool when you looked at him. Suddenly, he seemed nervous, his hand was sweaty when he took yours to enter the cabin. You sat next to each other, knees touching, but looking forward. You heard Hwiyoung taking deep breaths to calm down as you stared at your lap.

“Y/N,”, he called you, his voice only above a whisper, “can I hold your hand?”. You nodded and Hwiyoung carefully took your little palm in his, squeezing it a bit. “I like the way our hands fit together”, he softly murmured, analyzing your sweet connection. “And I like how soft your hands are”, his index finger drawing slow patterns on your palm.

You lifted your head and your eyes met, a loving warmth feeling the cool air inside the cabin. “You’re beautiful”, he confessed without breaking your gaze. You smiled, melting by his side, as the two of you got closer and closer, faces just inches apart.

But you took too long staring at each other and you were about to seal your lips, it was time to leave the cabin. You were visibly disappointed and Hwiyoung chuckled when he saw your little pout. “Don’t worry. There’s one more place for us to go”, he reassured you, placing a hand on your low back and guiding you to the little lake of the park, where a crowd waited for something.

“What-”, your question was interrupted by an explosion and you looked up at the sky, the black frame being colored by hundreds of colors as fireworks lightened up the night. “WOW… THAT’S SO BEAUTIFUL”, you exclaimed with a wide grin. Hwiyoung was right by your side, but his eyes were fixed on you, his lips curling up in a loving smile and, in that moment, he was sure he wanted you.

The next thing you felt was Hwiyoung’s strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him, embracing you tight as you instinctively hugged him back. He inhaled deeply the sweet scent of your hair, his nose running through your soft strands. He broke the hug and looked at your illuminated face, pressing your foreheads together.

“I like your scent”, he said loud enough for only you to hear. “I like the warmth of your body close to mine”, he leaned back a little to meet your eyes. “And I like you”, he completed and you could feel yourself turning into a puddle between his arms.

He kept looking at you, his gaze loving and cloudy as he waited for a movement yours. You moved your arms to his shoulders and neck, trying to take more of his warmth, getting your faces closer and noses touching slightly.

“I like you too”, you mumbled against his lips and closed the little distance between both of you, kissing him softly but passionately. Hwiyoung immediately kissed you back, his hands roaming through your back as he deepened the kiss.

When you were like this - together, very close to each other, lips moving in sync -, it was like there was only you and Hwiyoung and that little moment in the world. There were no words, no songs, no pics able to beat your feelings right now.

You felt like about to explode in thousands of pieces of love and devotion. Hwiyoung, of course, felt the same way. Your hearts were beating fast as one into your chests, your breaths were being shared to one another.

The fireworks were exploding up there, but you knew your heart was shooting tons and tons of love pounder into your veins that make you feel just like the sky in this moment. And none of you wanted this beautiful show to stop.

#kpop imagines #sf9 imagines #sf9 scenarios #sf9 fluff #sf9 hwiyoung #request #geminirules

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manikas-whims · 4 years ago

Text

Troublesome New Girl

Sequel to A Place Good Enough

[Read on AO3]

Characters: Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker

Summary: Inej has newly joined the Dregs. She goes to return Kaz's coat in the presence of many members. *cue the teasing & jokes*

Jesper meets Inej & evidences of Jesper's crush on Kaz (tiny bit of angst).

Kaz is his usual self & sets an example. A violent one :)

Note:

I just noticed this complete written fic has been sitting in my drafts for a month now. I'm so dumb 〒_〒

PLEASE DO READ THE PREVIOUS PART IN THIS SERIES TO UNDERTAND THIS SEQUEL.

Hope you guys enjoy!

Inej

The constant noise of banging against wood rouses Inej from her sleep. She looks around haphazardly only to find herself lying on a cot in an unknown room, her torso covered by a grey coat. Sun's rays blind her eyes momentarily as she turns her face, an open window staring back at her, not the daunting walls of the Menagerie. Memories of the previous night flood back and her shoulders deflate in relief. She takes a long breath to calm her rapidly beating heart. She doesn't need to endure Heleen's beatings or sell her body anymore. She is free of that life. Free.

“Oi new girl!” a voice calls, followed by more knocking at the wooden door to her small room. “Brekker told me to bring you some clothes. I’m leaving a pair out here.”

Right! Kaz Brekker had promised her better clothes. She leaves the comfort of the cot but by the time she unlocks the door to thank whoever was on the other end, the person is gone. She catches a short glimpse of a feminine figure with blond hair at the stairs and vows to thank her later. Picking up the clothes, she closes the door.

Jesper

When Jesper had heard his fellow Dregs gossiping about Dirtyhands bringing back a girl with him late at night, he hadn’t given it much thought. He had ignored Anika when she had said that she was literally asked by Kaz himself to provide the said girl with some clothes. In fact, he had completely shooed away anyone who came up to fill his ears with rumors about this unknown Suli girl and the bastard of the barrel. So when a small, bronze-skinned girl bumps into him on the third floor of the Slat, he's stunned.

"Ohhh—", The girl waves her hands frantically, her pupils dilating in concern, "I'm sorry."

But Jesper doesn't bother with apologies for he's too busy appraising her. Now she does match the rumored descriptions and is even donning Anika's lame clothes. But what actually piques his interest is a neatly-folded coat in the deepest shade of grey held between her dainty hands. He doesn’t need to think long to guess who it belongs to. There’s only one person who doesn’t indulge in the colorful fashion sense of the barrel— Kaz “Dirtyhands” Brekker.

He feels his insides fuming. But no way is he going to act like an idiot and jump to conclusions. Just because here's a girl he’s never seen before and she happens to have a coat, doesn’t mean that every single narrative he's heard about this whole situation is true.

He narrows his eyes in what he assumes is his best look of suspicion as he towers over the girl. “Where did you get that?”

"Um", she looks down at the piece of clothing and mumbles in the most innocent tone, "Mr. Brekker lent it to me."

Mr. Brekker!? The hell kinda way is this to address a man you slept with? Or whatever the heck it is that Dirtyhands prefers to do with girls..

"Why?" he asks. From Jesper's experiences, the young lieutenant of the Dregs isn't big on kindness. "Why did he lend it you?"

The girl's brows narrow in thought. It seems she herself is unsure of the reason. Her left palm clutches her right forearm in apprehension. "I guess..because I wasn't in a very decent attire."

Alarms go off in Jesper's head again. What exactly happened between her and Kaz? His heart needs answers yet he knows that its none of his business so he suppresses the unease welling in his belly.

"Well Kaz is up there." He gestures in the direction of the attic. "I'm headed there right now so I can give it to him."

The girl frowns. "I can't let a stranger do that for me. Besides," she twirls a strand of her hair, her eyes alight with some indescribable emotion, "I must properly thank him myself."

Jesper is familiar with this look. It mirrors his own when he was still a newbie at the Dregs and wanted to prove himself, wanted to repay Kaz for saving his ass. And not just by helping him pluck stupid pigeons but also by adding extra sums of profits to his ledger. Jesper can empathize with her on this.

"He saved you too," The Zemeni asks carefully, "didn't he?"

She stares at him, gauging the understanding in his expression and simply nods.

He rubs the side of his neck awkwardly. "Well, wanna go up together?"

Her eyes widen and she involuntarily takes a few steps back. Distrust. Fear. He can empathize with this action as well. In the barrel, it'd be foolish to believe a complete stranger within few moments of the first encounter.

"Then," he smiles the smile that many have called charming and starts his ascend upstairs. He only looks back once to wink at her, hoping it'll quell her anxious mind a bit, "follow my lead?"

"I can do that." she mumbles, more to assure herself and takes the first step of many that will become the foundation to their sibling-like friendship.

Kaz

When it comes to change, development and fresh ideas, Per Haskell always cowers and dismisses the topic. People like that will never achieve anything if they aren't willing to take risks. The restoration of that abandoned fifth harbour would already be in motion if Kaz hadn't chosen to waste another of his precious mornings trying to convince his boss that investing in it may prove fruitful to the Dregs. And so, after a pointless argument he had had earlier with the old man, he's decided to take matters into his own hands.

Huffing audibly, he continues explaining every member present in his room their respective job for the day. The boisterous throng huddled around him, begins dispersing all of a sudden. Curiously, Kaz looks up to find his faitful right-hand man Jesper Fahey walking in, a mischievous glint in his silver irises.

"We bumped into each other on our way up here." Jesper gestures behind him.

And it is then that Kaz notices her presence— Inej Ghafa, the strange Suli girl he had brought back from the West Stave. Oddly, he had felt her presence moments ago but had brushed it off as a mere byproduct of his rest-deprived mind playing tricks on him. Turns out his intuition hadn’t been wrong at all.

"Its that Suli girl."

"The one that Brekker took up to his bed?"

"Who would've thought Haskell's rabid dog had such exquisite tastes."

The one that Brekker took where? Haskell's rabid what? Kaz isn't sure which remark he finds more insulting towards his reputation. Although he does realise he has no one except himself to blame. He should'nt have let the girl follow him up to the attic last night. As usual, he'll have to cover this small err with fresh tales about himself that are even more gruesome than the previous ones. But for now he must find out why the new girl is here.

Anika’s clothes are baggy on her small frame— a deep green shirt so loosely-fitted that she has tied its ends into a double knot just above her belly-button whilst the fawn-colored trousers hang tastefully around her hips. He watches her long, silky hair sway behind her as she walks gracefully in his direction, determination glimmering in her dark brown irises. Shock briefly flits across his gaze but before he can even think of stopping her, she shoots out her hands in which he (dreadfully) recognizes, she’s holding his coat. He can feel all eyes in the room already settling on him. They collectively stare in a mix of shock, curiosity and..is this jealousy he's witnessing on a few faces?

"What do you think you're doing?" He grits out. He hears a muffled snickering which he's sure is Jesper's and wonders if the two somehow managed to become friends in the short span of their climb up the stairs. And that they both planned this prank together on their way.

However, Inej only furrows her brows, debunking his ridiculous theory. She seems to be wondering what she's done wrong as she answers confidently, "I forgot to return it last night."

More interested staring ensues. The new pen in his palm snaps.

Is this girl serious right now? It took him long, unrelenting years to rise to the position he's at. He's spilled his blood, sweat and tears to scatter the seeds of terror about him throughout the expanse of Ketterdam. Even people who come across him for the first time, visibly shiver and turn pale. So what part of their last conversation has given her this courage to approach him so casually? She seems to have forgotten the fact that he’s an infamous barrel thug, feared by merchers, stadwatch and gangsters alike. She isn’t supposed to saunter up to him and return his coat, making this whole exchange appear to be a scandalous affair to the curious bystanders. She isn't supposed to crumble Dirtyhands' hard-built reputation with just a few words!

"Stand aside, I'm busy." He mutters, because he truly has no idea how to get out of this predicament and hopes that his caustic tone will get the message across just like it does with everyone else.

To his utter dismay, Inej seems to be far more tactless than Jesper, who still hasn't stopped snickering. She tucks the coat back in her arms and bites her lip as if suppressing herself from saying something mean. Her eyes quietly regard his own, an unspoken understanding settling between them. She is aware that if she doesn't wish to be thrown back into the Menagerie, she must behave properly with him. And yet, her nostrils flare as she responds, "I just wanted to pay my gratitude-"

"You can pay your gratitude," Kaz hisses back, glaring up at her from his perched position, "with your services." And its only after uttering those words does he realise the ambiguous implications hinted in them. Jesper's shoulders are shaking uncontrollably now, his palms tightly clamped around his mouth to muffle his laugh.

"Slow down, Dirtyhands." comments someone from the back and the whole room bursts into a howl of laughter. Inej brings a palm to her lips, gasping in mortification.

Kaz massages his eyes. Dealing with these ruffians has already been a headache. Now this new girl just walks in and takes the cake. She's proving to be far more dangerous– scratch that– far more more troublesome than he had expected.

He lets them have their fun as he pulls out a knife from his coatsleeve and gets up. He ambles towards Dirix, his steps slow and deliberate. He's sure it was Rotty who'd made the joke but Dirix is standing closer and it doesn't really matter who said what. Dirtyhands just needs to set an example.

The young boy is suddenly looking very pale. Kaz grabs his right hand, the dominant one and digs the blade along the joints of his fingers. The knife easily tears through his skin and goes deeper into the muscle beneath. Dirix is now screaming whilst everyone else hold their breath. From his peripheral vision, he catches the horror on Inej's face and rolls his eyes. Surely she must've heard of his violent endeavors at the menagerie. She shouldn't have approached him in the first place if she's going to be so shocked everytime he spills someone's blood.

He roots out the knife before it can completely sever Dirix's limbs. "Get 'em patched up." The boy is already running out.

He walks back and tosses the knife to the desk, its loud clang making everyone flinch in fright. "Pipe down before I actually start chopping tongues."

The threat silences everyone.

"This is Inej Ghafa." He points at her and the girl cowers slightly. Not at all the abrupt attention on her, he notices, but from him. "She's to be a new spider."

This one simple statement seems to piece together everything for them. Though he has an inkling that his previous act of brutality also plays a major part. They nod and whisper amongst themselves. He almost scoffs. Of course its easier for them to believe that Kaz Brekker took up a girl to his room for information. Not some spicy dalliance.

"Now get to work." He orders and one by one they shuffle out of the room, Rotty nodding respectfully. He knows he was spared merely by luck.

Jesper is the last one. He winks at Inej before taking his leave. "See you around, new girl!"

And with all of them gone, Kaz turns to Inej. She inhales a breath in anticipation.

"Let's start your training."

So hopefully that was as fun reading as it was for me writing :3

Coming parts will have Inej's training and ofc her picking her canon outfit.

SoC Masterlist

( divider by @firefly-graphics )

#six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #kanej #kaz x jesper #inej x jesper #kanej fanfic #pre soc #grishaverse #kanej fanfiction

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years ago

Note

Would you ever write about Faust making Faith squirt for the first time cause that would be the hottest thing ever.

Warning: 18+ SMUT. Anal play, sex toys, size kink, possessive sex, strong anti-Christian themes, squirting, angst, feelings.

Note: I really hope you guys enjoy this one! Please let me know your thoughts and reblog/like if you can! I’d appreciate it.

Faust x Faith Masterpost [x]

"You didn't wear the outfit," Faust murmured against Faith's lips.

"Sorry. I forgot. You got here so quick."

He took hold of the metal loop dangling at her neck and smirked. "But you wore this for me."

"I thought you'd like it," Faith giggled.

"You think you're some kind of naughty girl? Do you think this collar makes you bad?"

Faith shrugged.

"Do you know what happens to girls who wear things like this?"

She grabbed his hands and placed them on her chest. "Why don't you show me?"

"You couldn't handle it," he chuckled.

Faith wasn't in the mood to convince Faust to do what he wanted with her. He'd gotten it lodged in his head that she was too delicate, but she wanted him to overpower her and make her hurt in that viciously pleasurable way she dreamt of.

"Come on, Faust, you were the one who said you wanted to wreck this pussy. You won't take advantage of our last couple of nights together by making me never forget them?"

"You say that like I'm never coming back."

Faust nipped her bottom lip, palms sliding down her ribs to the back of her skirt. He pulled it up and squeezed her ass in both hands, watching her face change shapes any time he compressed her skin.

"You're going away for weeks. Who knows what will happen? Maybe you'll find a new girl and forget all about me."

Faust loosened his and shook his hair out of his face. "Don't say that."

"Im just kidding," she chuckled, leaning in for a kiss and meeting the crest of his cheekbone instead.

"What?" Faith asked.

"I'm serious. Why do you think that way?"

She pulled away to focus on the solemnity of his face. "I don't know, it's just something girls say."

"I don't think so."

"Relax, baby. It's okay. Let's just do it right here in the car. Please? I'm going to miss you so much when you go away. I need all I can get."

"I don't care," Faust said, framing his long fingers into a C-shaped hold on her neck. He didn't squeeze, but held her in place and drilled into her eyes with his. "Are you saying you might find another guy while I'm gone?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then why do you think I'd cheat on you?"

"I don't think that," she whispered.

Faust released her throat and tightened his arms around her, pinning her in his firm embrace as she straddled his lap. "I'm not looking for groupies and shit. I just want to play. That's all I care about. That, and you."

"I know, Faust. Why do you always have to take everything I say so seriously? You know I'd never think about that. I'm a good girl, remember?"

Faust's throat rolled out a soft growl. "Good girls don't wear slutty little collars. Or sneak out of their dorms to fuck their boyfriends in the backseat of a car."

"Don't you want to corrupt me? Christian girl, taken by some heathen devil-worshiper... Destroying her purity."

He curled his hips up, the thick seam of his jeans rubbing against her flimsy panties, brushing over her sheathed clit. The pressure grew with the next carve. Faust filled with blood and clamped her frame against him as his hand snuck around to the back of her skirt again.

"Faust, please. I want it. I'll let you do anything to me."

"I know. You've waited long enough. Now I know what you can and can't handle. But not here."

Faith whimpered when he stopped feeding her strokes of his groin. She'd been wriggling against him, trying to fret hard enough that his buried erection pressed against her folds. Though his tilting stopped, the hands at her behind explored the soft mounds of flesh and the sensitive spots that lied between them.

"You're gonna give me everything. That mouth and those pretty lips. Your cunt. Mm-hmm, and this one right here too. Yeah, I'm gonna fill that asshole with all kinds of things. My fingers... my tongue? Maybe a special surprise I have waiting at home?"

Faith never felt such a violent shiver ripple across her skin. It was like the window cracked open on its own and let in the bitter night air, sweet with the seasonal decay. He pressed his index finger against the promised hole, rotating and varying pressure over the cotton.

"All right, I'm serious now. Let's get going. Climb into your seat and buckle up."

On the ride back to Faust's apartment, his arm stretched over to toy with her clit, still never breaching the protection of her underwear. He only ghosted his fingertips over them, refusing to nudge them aside to give her the full strokes she craved. Even when Faith tried to pull them down, he stopped her hand, clicking his tongue and berating her for being too eager.

"Control yourself. Just enjoy what I give you."

"Please, I want more."

"You'll get more when I decide you deserve more. Tonight, you're mine. My pussy. My tits and ass and mouth. Whatever I say goes. Understand?"

"Yes, Faust."

"Good... Now I want you to lean back and finger your pussy. Then I want you to smear that pussy juice on the windshield. Draw my roommate a little picture."

Faith scoffed, cowering against the backrest, clutching her seatbelt. "What? Are you serious?"

He swung his eyes away from the road for as long as it took for the windshield wipers to clip twice.

"Do it."

She obeyed, and parted her legs to insert her middle finger as far as the second knuckle, curling to find the spot inside Faust helped her discover. Faust looked back at the road as she worked herself up, nodding and smirking when she brought her glistening fingertip to the glass to create the shape of a heart.

"Aw, isn't that sweet? Leave 'em a little message."

Faust held the hand she'd used to finger herself the entire elevator ride up. He led Faith straight into his room after dropping the keys at the door. This behaviour was normal, as Faust never had much to say to his roommate besides agreeing on times to use the car. Faith skipped along with his formidable steps to the bedroom.

Faust's bed welcomed her instantly. Giddy and nearly delirious from the excitement of not sleeping in her own bunk at school, Faith sat down and smoothed out her skirt while he went to the closet to rummage around.

Even the gory posters and beer bottles gave her a sense of comfort. She'd miss his room, and the nights they spent entangled in each other, his massive limbs always draped over hers while they cuddled or talked or slept or fucked. It keyed into her head then that she wouldn't see his plaid bedsheets or nap under the comforter that smelled like his shampoo and deodorant for a long, long time. She tried not to think about that, but the realization overcame her by the time Faust retrieved the item for which he searched.

He knelt on the carpet, noticing a single tear on her cheek and wiping it away.

"Don't do this, babe. Don't cry."

Faith brushed the next droplet away herself and breathed in deeply.

"I'm so sorry. I'll try not to. It's just hard because... I'll miss you."

"I know. It'll be tough, but when I get home, maybe I'll be able to get out of here... Get a car. Move closer to your school. I won't have to keep borrowing fuckface's shit-wagon to come see you. Things will be better after I get back."

"I just can't imagine sleeping without you for that long."

"It's part of the gig, Faith. It always will be. I'll have to do this at least once a year. Probably more if things go well."

She looked down at her toes and nodded, avoiding the large green eyes imploring her to accept reality. Faust stood up and raked his hand through her hair, pressing her face against his thigh.

"Don't get soft on me now. We have a big night, remember? Unless you don't feel like fucking no more?"

Faith would never pass up the opportunity to please him. It always meant if she did a good job, he'd pleasure her right back, tenfold. But tonight made a heavier promise Faith craved since the moment she passed him by in the diner; for Faust to show her the dark side of life, where her elders and superiors had always promised demons lurked, waiting to undo her and lead her away from the righteous path.

He handled her jaw firmly, raising her to her knees on the bed. He bent at the hips and captured her lips along with the silver ring hanging from her neck. A length of chain slid through his grip as he stood up, and he wound it up in his fist, raising her another inch. The leather pressed into her skin and she surrendered instantly.

"That's what I thought."

"What're you gonna do to me?"

"Don't speak. You'll answer me and that's it. Now get off the bed. On your knees."

They switched spots, Faust sitting on the edge of the bed and Faith kneeling between his legs. He pulled the leash short and worked open the button and zipper of his pants, nodding for Faith to pull them down.

"You wanna be a bad girl?"

Faith nodded, a warm, fluttering sensation filling her chest.

"Yeah. You want to do all the sinful things they taught you not to do in school. Like giving your precious little pussy away. There's no way a slut like you can wait until marriage and you don't care how it looks in your God's eyes. The only one you want is to serve me, even if it means going back on the vows you made to stay pure and chaste," Faust chuckled." Well, it's way too late now. I've already soiled you and taken your virginity. But don't you think it's inherently perverse how those supposed men of God put so much importance on what's between your gorgeous legs? Almost like that's all they think about. And who can really blame them? You can do bad in school, cheat on your work, hurt others, lie, steal, disobey your parents and still earn forgiveness, but the moment you let a man's cock inside you, you’ve got no worth. Funny, isn't it? The ultimate sin is what you crave the most. All those white men policing your pussy. Your pastor... Your father... Your God."

A sliver of her past self shuddered to hear the unabated truth pouring from Faust's lips. There was always a shameful breath lingering inside her whenever they had sex, but she always suppressed it by looking into his eyes to find the love living deep in those green pools. Tonight, Faust didn't let an ounce of affection shine through, determined to bring her shame to the forefront of her mind to exploit it.

"What? Am I wrong? That's what they taught you, isn't it? That your urges make you sinful. That your natural human instincts put you off the path to heaven. Even though, mm, when I stuff all your little holes, you swear you're already there. Why does it feel so good to fuck me when it's so wrong?"

The residual polyps of her religious upbringing quivered and stung, echoing past lessons drilled into her from birth. Faith was always aware of existence on the other side of the fence where the criminals and harlots and sinners lived, and as a child, thought herself too good to wander into those dim pastures. As she matured, new world realities filtered through the pinpricks her parents overlooked—other children whispering of PG-13 movies, sex-charged billboards and unsupervised access to the internet—leaving behind the silt of the depraved for her to examine with hungry eyes. Nothing excited her more than the thought of finding a used porn magazine at the park, or staying up later than the rest of her girlfriends to catch flashes of soft-core skin on cable television. Now she was neck-deep in the sin they'd worked so hard to keep her from, ready to dive in with but a nostalgic glance back at her old, virtuous life.

It still bothered her whenever Faust referred to God, as they fashioned Him before her as divinity, unchallengeable. The unabashed way Faust spit upon His image made her cringe, yet his gall carved out a spot in her head above her pastor, above her father. Faust was the only man to defy her doctrine, and that made him more courageous than anyone she'd ever known. Even her daddy cowered in fear of God's wrath. Faust... he pissed on the cross and the bible, made a mockery of the gospel and showed her how delicious the grapes of temptation tasted on her contaminated tongue.

Faust pushed the elastic band of his boxers down so it bunched under his balls, helping his shaft stand upright. If left without support, he'd loll to the side, the girth too much for his blood to circumvent.

"Open your pretty mouth and suck this fat fucking cock, right now."

Faith displayed her tongue, waiting for him to trace a line from tip to tonsils. The warm pre-cum coated her tastebuds, and she wrapped her lips around the head, swallowing the fluid and moaning.

"Oh, Christ, baby, that looks so good. How does it taste?"

Faith hummed in agreement, unable to form a word with the mass wedging her jaws apart. He bucked his hips up once, hitting the back of her throat, then settled on the bed and let her go to work while he used the chain leash to angle her head. Bubbles formed around the ridge, dripping down in all directions to lubricate the way. Soon, Faust shivered from the warm froth gliding downward and pulled her off by the chain, anchoring his shaft against his belly.

"Suck that spit off my balls," he barked.

Faith did as she was told, keeping her eyes on his slackened face as she trailed her tongue up and down, collecting the saliva and swallowing.

"Good. That's good. Now, get up on the bed. On your hands and knees," he yanked the chain.

Propelled by the force around her neck, Faith crawled onto the bed and awaited his next move. She didn't notice the shiny object in his hand until he placed it on the bed next to her. A shiny metal plug with a jewelled end awaited, puckering the bedspread under its weight.

Before Faith mustered the courage to ask, Faust pulled her panties down to her knees and lapped her entrance with the same sloppy ardency she'd shown him but a minute before. He nipped her folds and continued upward, two hands now spreading her cheeks apart to reveal the next destination of his travelling tongue.

"Did you get all nice and clean for me?" He snickered.

"Mm-hmm," Faith said with a nod.

"Yeah, 'cause you knew I was gonna play with that ass."

Faust teased her with circles of varying pressure, switching his middle finger out for his tongue the first time he dipped inside. She wiggled and let curious noises escape her before clamping her hand over her mouth.

"How does that feel?"

"It feels... good," Faith replied.

"Yeah? You like it? Like it when I sodomize you?"

She whimpered. Faust took her mewling as a sign to continue. Slowly, he inserted his fingertip, reading her body and how it contorted from the new intrusion. When he was certain she wouldn't refuse, he worked the digit in and out, anointing the site with a fresh wad of spit.

"What do you think about the toy I bought for you?"

Faith craned her head to regard the little silver toy. "I like it."

"Really? You're not just saying that are you? It's not just something girls say, is it?"

"No, I want it. I'll do it if you like that."

"Anyone ever tell you how sweet you are? You’re always thinking of others. Perfect little cock-slave. It's really too bad your holes are so tiny. I'd really love to fuck your ass, but we wouldn't want anyone getting injured tonight," Faust said.

Faith simpered and wiggled her hips. There was a brief loss of contact as Faust went for a bottle of lube he always had stashed under the bed for nights Faith needed it. He coated the toy and rubbed the rest around and inside her tightness. With his fingertip eclipsing her hole, he dipped in one last time before replacing the digit with the tapered end of the plug.

Faith couldn't tell what it looked like when her body accepted the weighty piece of decoration, but when Faust had it in place, he breathed heavily.

"Fuck, Faith... That's adorable. How's that feel?"

She tilted her hips from side to side, grimacing from the flare pressing into her cheeks. "It's... Different."

"Spread your legs a bit more. Yeah, that's good. Open up and show me that pussy and your cute plug."

Faust overestimated his reserve of patience. Once affixed with the pink jewel, he lost sight of everything else except filling her other holes too. But he had to control himself if he wanted to achieve what he set out to achieve, and that required endurance. He had to tease her with a little more tongue-fucking before slipping his cock in from behind. She gasped and clenched hard, flinching away. The added fullness only intensified the stretch from his width and the imposing length. Faust seethed a moment before teasing her pussy with the tip.

"All right, work it however you like, babe. Get comfortable. It's a lot."

Left to her own efforts, she sat back on him and let the stretch course through her. Faust watched most of his length disappear, mouth dropped in awe. She continued jamming him back inside after every withdrawal, hoping to impress with her resilience.

"You're doing good, baby. Keep going. Fuck, that feels amazing."

When Faust grew bored with the position, he flipped her on her back so he could watch her wince in mixed pain and pleasure. Her struggle urged him on, her panting, encouragement. Over the months, Faith got used to the breadth of him inside and didn't tremble as much or wilt from trying to keep up. It was time to move onto the next part of his plan, which was to introduce yet another form of stimulation.

Faust had her sit on him, his chest to her back, fully enveloped in her wetness with the plug angling just right. Once she perched in his lap comfortably, he reached around to rub her clit with one hand while the other anchored her collared neck back so her head rested on his shoulder.

"You're gonna come all over me, understand? I won't stop until I feel your pussy spasming around my dick."

Faith squealed from the frantic fingers dancing over her clit, the shaft pumping her in a violent clashing of rhythms. Even his brutal whispers in her ear fell into time, playing her like an instrument with expertise. By her arching back and sharp breaths, Faust knew he was close to his goal. He just had to restrain himself from succumbing to the tightening pressure around him, the feast that was her body contorting on top of his.

"Are you gonna come? Gonna fucking squirt for me?"

Faith nuzzled into his neck and whimpered, "I... Can't. I don't know how."

"Yes, you do. Feel that spot right there? Remember? Remember what I told you."

"Faust," she gasped.

"You're right there. I can feel it. Right there, Faith."

He coiled his thick arm around her chest, pressing her as he shot his groin up and up. Each thrust landed harder while his fingers coddled her most sensitive spot.

Amid the barrage of sensations, a peculiar warmth bourgeoned in her groin. For a second she thought her bladder was about to release, but it was too gradual... Too intentional to be a regular function. The undulating pulse sent red hot waves of pleasure through her body, shooting to her fingertips and crackling in her ears like a sudden ascent up a steep mountain. She closed her eyes and let out one continuous groan that spiralled upward, squealing from between her teeth as the volcanic frequencies shut down all other modes of operation.

Faith didn't notice the first spurt. Only when Faust laughed did she unscrew her eyes to see between her legs. Faust lifted her quickly, sidling them both to the edge of the bed where the mirror reflected the clear fluid dripping down his cock and spreading between their thighs. He'd fucked her hard enough to collect fizz along the underside of his length. She gasped when a contraction forced another small emission from a place inside her she never knew existed.

"Oh, my goodness... Am I?"

"Squirting? Damn fucking right, babe. I knew I could get ya to gush all over my dick."

The fervent racks of orgasm subsided after a while, and she giggled. Faust laid back on the bed, feet planted on the floor as he slipped out of her and let her roll to the side. Faith huddled up under his arm and placed her little hand on his heaving chest, his heartbeat kicking up the limb.

"You didn't come," Faith said.

Faust grabbed her hand and tightened his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah. That's 'cause I'm not done with you."

~*~

On the day of Faust's departure, he drove Faith to her campus and got out of the car to give her a hug. She produced a rickety smile as she buried her face in his hair and the first sniffle racked her throat. She imagined they looked novel to most; Faust spreading his feet and crouching to use his entire body, clam-shelling her in leather-bound arms and ripped black jeans, and Faith in a school kilt and his largest and softest hoodie.

Faust kissed her once softly, then again slowly. She savoured his breath and sent her tongue after his. They parted, joined once more and parted again for their first attempt at goodbye.

Faith shivered from the effort of holding back her tears. She knew crying would only make it harder to part ways. If she could hold on, then she could cry in her plain, two-sided cubicle in a building of people that weren't Faust. She already felt sorry for her roommate who would suffer her grovelling.

To her surprise, she reared in the heat behind her eyes, remembering the times in the Summer when Faust would talk about touring. The glint in his eye and the smile he let slip only in her presence was Faust at his purest. How could she let her emotions taint his goals? Faith smiled, driven by her unexpected surge of self-control.

It was Faust who bit his lip and blinked rapidly, trying to smother a tear before it oozed out. Faith gasped at the glimmer he smeared with the leather cuff of his jacket. Then, she broke.

Faust wrapped her up in his arms again and squeezed her tight, Faith jostling with sobs.

"I love you. I love you so much," she cried into his chest.

"Yeah, babe. I love you too. I fucking wish you could just come with me. I don't trust this town either. You better not ever walk alone at night anywhere. Even if it's from your dorm to the parking lot. You always walk with someone."

"I will."

"I'm serious, Faith. And don't fucking hang out with Anika and that crowd."

"Why not? I mean, I won't, but... Why?"

Faust pressed his lips together, squeezing his fist. She cocked her head, and he released his frustration in one deep breath. "All those guys will rip you apart. Because of your... Upbringing. Christians just... Fuck. I can't put this nicely."

"Do you really think I still care about my religion? It was something I just did as a kid. I don't really... I don't know. I know what you guys sing about and I don't care."

"It doesn't matter. To some of them, Christians are the enemy and they'll do terrible shit you'd never think of. Please, just fucking promise me you'll make some other friends. Some smart girls. Have like a girl's club thing in your dorm."

"Girl's club?" Faith taunted.

"You know what I mean."

"No smart boy friends?"

Faust went deadpan, then stooped to grab her ass and pull her closer. "Don't make a murderer out of me. If I hear of any guy—"

"Or girl!"

"Or girl... If anyone tries anything with you..."

"You'll go to prison for me. I know. I'll do everything to make sure you don't end up in prison."

"And you better not worry about me and what I'm up to. My life will be nothing but sleeping on the way to shows, sound check, pre-set, set, post-set shower, then beer in the bus."

"I trust you. But will you say goodnight, every night?"

"I'll try."

She hopped up to kiss him again. "Thanks, beetle."

"One more thing before I go," Faust said, stepping toward the car. He circled to the driver's side and ducked in to grab something he'd tucked under the seat while Faith wasn't around. She already had her mouth covered by the time he returned to the sidewalk. "That collar you supposedly had lying around... You gotta get rid of it."

Faith touched her throat as though the leather strap was still there. "How come?"

"Because I got you a better one," he said, handing her the parcel. The box had a weight Faith didn't expect.

She unravelled the black plastic, a lacquered wooden box beneath the makeshift wrapping paper. The collar inside was thin, with a metal buckle and a thick D-ring hosting a thicker chrome loop.

"Faust!"

"My friend made it. It's not some Hot Topic shit. This collar means you belong with me."

"Is this like your version of a promise ring?"

Faust scoffed. "It's not a ring. It's a collar. Hand-forged metal. Leather cut with skill. Not some tiny, overpriced rock. But if you want me to make you a promise, I will."

"Promise me what?"

"That I belong to you, too."

Faith melted, rolling her eyes and leaning into him. "Ugh, oh my gosh, if you keep being so cute I'm not gonna let you leave! First you cried and now you're giving me something you asked your friend to make for me? That's sooo cute!"

"Shut up. Come on, this is serious."

"I know! Which is why it's so cute, because you're a big, tough, serious man, aren't you?"

Faust's indifference broke, and he chuckled with her as she poked him and hung off his arm. He helped her put on the collar, then slipped the box into her backpack.

They settled back into a melancholic silence, neither one of them wanting to start the next round of goodbyes. Faust eventually stepped into the tight hug, proceeded more kissing and a few deep breaths to wane the sorrow.

"I hope you have fun, Faust. You don't have to worry about me. I promise I'll be safe."

"Say goodnight, every night."

"I will."

"All right... Well, I should go."

"Please do, so I can go to my room and cry some more."

Faust pressed his thumb into the corner of his eye. "Fuck, I know."

"I love you, beetle."

"Love you too, babe. I'll talk to you soon as I'm on the road."

Faust let her go and drove away. An immovable lump formed in his throat as he drowned out his inner-mourning with a cacophony of feral guitars, erratic drumbeats and screeching.

#faust x faith #faust stuff #valter skarsgard fanfiction

123 notes · View notes

needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years ago

Note

Kohga and Pomma deciding to mess with Sooga by fucking right in front of him. Oh, and they make Sooga wear that chastity device again for good measure 🥰

yeah we can! let's go, and happy birthday!

"So we agree."

"ABSOLUTELY. He needs a little something special. But you know how he is."

"True, true. Which is why I should get my hooks into him first. You know he can't say no to me."

They both nodded. Pomma and Kohga may not have had much in common, but there was ONE thing that bonded them; their love for their precious Sooga. If only Sooga knew just how much they really did love him.

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

"Sooga! You're back!"

Sooga had just gotten back from a meeting with King RhoamRhoam (for some reason King Rhoam felt so awkward around Kohga, but he’d never explain, oddly enough), and Kohga was apparently just SO giddy to see him back. Sooga chuckled, nodding as he let Kohga hold his face (even if he had to kneel down to his level to let him do so).

“I am, yes. He wanted to relay this message to you-”

“Yeah yeah yeah, not important right now. You need to follow me.”

“Did something happen?”

Oh that ever concerned look on his face, ever ready to spring into action, even when he JUST got home. Kohga tried not to chuckle, motioning with his head for him to follow.

“Just follow, big guy.”

Sooga did as he was told, absolutely ready to help Kohga with whatever it was that he needed. Kohga guided him to his room, and shut the door behind them. Sooga looked around, trying to spot an obvious problem, and found nothing.

“What is the problem?”

“You.”

Sooga seemed startled by the sudden statement. Which Kohga expected. He tried not to giggle at the startled look on his pretty face.

“M-me? What did I do? How did I disgrace you, my Master? Was I taking too long? Is it because I didn’t bring a gift with me? Is it because I left without making you food beforehand? What is it?”

Oh so worried, his poor dutiful Sooga. Sooga put his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“You’ve been fucking Rhoam, haven’t you?”

Sooga did a double take, clearly not expecting that. It was a huge ass lie, but as far as Sooga knew, Kohga ACTUALLY thought this. He shook his head wildly.

“Master Kohga! I swear I haven’t! I’ve been NOTHING but professional with the King, I-”

Kohga held his hand up, silencing him, and shaking his head.

“You wanna know how I know, Sooga? I know because I had a little spy follow you to the castle, just to keep an eye on you. And he says he’s catching you putting stock in the royal treasury.”

“I’m...what?”

“You know what, that was a bad metaphor-point is you’re giving it to the king up the ass.”

Sooga wanted to speak, but Kohga wouldn’t let him. He folded his arms across his chest, pretending to be cross.

“Ah ah ah. You want me to forgive you for this, right?”

“I would beg until the end of time for you to forgive me.”

“Then apologize properly.”

Sooga had his forehead to the floor in a second, in a full Yiga apology.

“I’m sorry, with all I am.”

Kohga patted his head, as if he was satisfied. Sooga looked up at him, and Kohga sighed, as if he was mentally debating what to do with him.

“Tell you what. If you can go through one little punishment, I’ll forgive you.”

“Any trial you deem fit, I will take for you.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. Up up.”

Kohga gave the command as if he was a pet, and Sooga obeyed, getting up on his feet with surprising speed. God this guy was fit and agile as they came. Kohga made him stay put as he dug into his closet, before bringing out a box. It was dusty, but somewhat familiar.

“What is-”

“Strip. Everything but the mask.”

Sooga obeyed without any further questions, stripping in record time. Kohga liked watching him undress. His fingers moved so fast, he put everything away properly and with clear organization-he was so efficient. He took a good look at his nude frame, honestly feeling bad he was putting him through this. But it was kinky, so it was okay. Kohga dusted the dirt off the box (it had been a LONG time since Sooga had been bad), and dug out his chastity belt. Sooga tried not to step back, clearly having flashbacks to the torture that was NOT getting an erection.

“M-master Kohga please-”

“Stay. Still.”

Sooga clearly didn’t want to, but he did just that. He let Kohga strap the chastity belt onto him, nice and snug. Kohga patted it for good measure, and pointed to the chair right by their bed (sometimes one of them wanted to be on the bed, the other wanted the chair. Yeah, gross couple shit). Sooga sat on the chair, bracing himself to be touched. Only, he received nothing as Kohga just sat on the bed, grinning up at him. Sooga was about to ask what was happening, before there was a knock at the door.

“Pomma! Just in time, come on in!”

Sooga went to cover himself upon the door opening, when Kohga barked at him to not do so. Sooga sat there, caged, nude, and shameful. Pomma gave him a small wave as she sat down on the bed.

“I take it someone has already started their punishment.”

“Yep! You ready?”

“He looks so sad, Kohga. Can’t I just give him one kiss?”

“Ugh. Fine, ONE kiss, but that’s it, this is a punishment, not a reward.”

Pomma giddily got in front of Sooga, tilted his mask up a bit, and pecked his lips.

“Good luck, Soogy.”

Sooga was about to ask just what was happening, when Pomma joined a suddenly nude Kohga on the bed, starting to strip herself free of clothes. Sooga gripped onto the arm rests, trying to figure out just what to do with himself here. Kohga put his hand on Pomma’s thigh, lightly massaging her flesh.

“Now, you’re gonna sit there, and just watch. No touching, and no talking until we talk to you first. Got it?”

Sooga nodded, being mindful to stay silent and watchful.Pomma lightly clapped her hands, clearly eager to put on a show for her Sooga. Even though it was a punishment, he deserved to have a bit of a show. Sooga palmed and played with Kohga’s cock, taking note to how envious Sooga looked. It was precious, how much he wanted to touch them. Kohga kept talking as he felt himself get hard in her hand.

“You’re doing good so far. Not a single word out of your mouth, like a good boy. Pomma, he’s a good boy right?”

“So far. But then again, we did just start. There’s plenty of chances for him to mess up, like say, from seeing me do this.”

She knelt down to kiss at his semi hard cock. Carefully, softly. Delicate enough for Kohga to grumble bitterly. He hated shit soft and sweet.

“Pomma it’s HIS punishment, not m-”

Then she finally indulged him. She groaned as she took him fully into her mouth, groaning as drool cascaded down his girth. One hand held his cock, the other played with one of her tits, putting on quite the show for a rather uncomfortable looking Sooga. He wanted to move, wanted to speak, wanted to get hard. But they wouldn’t let him. Kohga ran his hands through her hair as she sucked him off, and he swore he heard a whimper from their poor Sooga. He liked his hair being played with too, and him not getting it was clearly not something he was enjoying. Kohga snickered, making the show of running his fingers through her cream colored hair.

“Aw, you want your hair played with too, huh Sooga? Well, that sucks, because you’ve been bad. POMMA has been good, so this is what she gets. She gets a mouth full of cock, and her pretty hair played with. And you know what? Just because Pomma has been so good, she gets an extra prize. Pomma, back.”

Pomma pulled away, making the mess of drool pretty obvious on his cock, before laying on her back, and spreading her legs open, presenting herself. Kohga carefully rubbed her upper thigh, before letting his hand down to her bare, hairy pussy. Kohga didn’t like women, but damn did he know how to treat someone as pretty as Pomma. He softly petted her puffy outside, getting her used to his touch.

“See how well she gets treated? Because she isn’t going around fucking dilfs? Especially not without MY permission. Someone forgot just how to behave. And now, he doesn’t get to get hard, does he?”

Sooga watched his fingers as they palmed at her. He wanted that. He knew how soft his hands were. He knew how soft SHE was. He swallowed, forcing his dry mouth to speak.

“That’s...right, Master Kohga.”

“Say it.”

Sooga knew just what exactly he wanted. He swallowed what felt like dust, before he forced himself to do just that.

“I don’t get to get hard. Because I haven’t been...behaving.”

“Exactly. Now SHE gets to cum, and you can’t.”

Kohga helped himself, and started to finger her wet pussy. Sooga watched her squirm and moan under his hands, clearly trying to stand still for him. To say Kohga was the best at fingering was NO exaggeration. So nimble, so smooth, it made Pomma shake and drip in mere moments. All while Kohga sat there, stroking himself, and looking at Sooga.

“See how much fun she’s having? See how she’s dripping all over the bed? See how she gets EVERYTHING, and you get nothing?"

"I didn't m-mean to-"

"I didn't ask you a fucking question."

Sooga watched in jealousy as Kohga’s three fingers stuffed her, right to the knuckle. Sooga knew first hand, how good his Master was at fingering, and this was absolute torture. His cock kept trying to get hard, only for it to be painfully stopped. Sooga tried to wedge his fingers in there before, but there was nothing. No relief in sight. Kohga sighed, as if he was terribly displeased (though Pomma sure as hell wasn’t).

"You haven't been this bad in such a long, long time, Sooga. You bad boy, ESPECIALLY thinking I wouldn't catch you. Pomma, eyes up here, hun."

Pomma tried (and struggled) to look up past her chest, right at Sooga. Her face was flushed, but oh so satisfied. He WISHED he was her right now. Getting fingered as quickly and as roughly as she was right now. Her thick mane of hair getting soaked in all of those wet, slick juices. He wanted anything and everything, but he couldn’t.

"Oh, poor Sooga. Being the only one who can't cum. That sucks. Maybe you shouldn't have whored out. I mean RHOAM of all people. Granted A+ on that girth, but come on."

Sooga was about to ask just how he knew his girth, but given the fact that Kohga had nestled his fingers keep inside of her, finally making her cry out as she came...well, it didn't feel important. Kohga was ruthless to her as well, snapping his soiled fingers.

"No time for rest, either of you. On your back, look at him."

Pomma obeyed, shakily getting up as she laid down, head hanging off the bed to look at Sooga. She stuck her tongue out at him, just in time for Kohga to cum, right over all over her tits. The agony of not being able to cum was more than words could say. Watching his thick cum trickle down her smooth skin- he wanted to help her and lick it off for her. Kohga finished on her, sighing, as if he wasn’t happy.

"And now, I'm going to blow her right up her ass. And you're gonna sit there, aren't you? Wishing you had this? Go on. Say it."

"....i….i want to fuck Pomma's ass."

"Ah but ya can't. Because you decided that THE KING was more important. All fours, Pomma, and stick your tongue out more, you know he likes it."

Sooga whined, squirming in his seat. This was all SO terribly hard, in a way.

#asks #lemon #Kohga #Sooga #Pomma

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honeylikewords · 4 years ago

Text

efforts (pietro maximoff)

(Pietro tries his best to celebrate his girlfriend’s birthday like a Good, Adult Boyfriend(TM). Content warnings only for language and Pietro making slightly inappropriate jokes that lead to nothing more. 8k.)

“Are you sure about this?”

Pietro cradles the receiver between his chin and his shoulder, holding up shirts in front of his chest as he glowers at the mirror, unhappy with his choices. His girlfriend’s voice rings in his ear and he frowns deeper, brows knit with frustrated consternation.

“Of course I’m sure,” he replies. “I wouldn’t have made the reservation if I wasn’t sure, babe.”

“I know, but, well…”

She trails off and Pietro quirks one brown eyebrow, chewing his bottom lip as he tosses his shirt selections over his shoulder and turns back towards the closet. Maybe he had an actual button-up shoved in there somewhere, he muses.

“You can tell me, hon,” he says, shuffling aside the piles of unfolded t-shirts and jackets he’d shoved deep into the bowels of his closet. “What’s up?”

“It’s just that, you know, you’ve been a little tight for money these past few months, and I don’t want you to--”

“Okay, gonna stop you there for a second,” he interrupts, swatting a wad of dirty socks out of his way as he continues his search for a half-decent shirt. “I’m not gonna go into debt taking my girl out to dinner for her birthday, alright? It’s all covered. I’ve been setting aside a little bit for this, alright? You don’t have to sweat it.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“You keep asking that,” he chuckles. “If you don’t wanna go, that’s okay-- I didn’t have to put a deposit down or anything for the reservation-- but I think you’d have a good time. It’s a nice place. Like you deserve.”

There’s a little space of dead air where Pietro feels his stomach drop slightly, wondering what will come next.

“All I want is for you to have a good time, too, Pete,” she says softly, and he can hear her doing that nervous tic where she picks her nails against the plastic casing of the phone receiver.

At that, Pietro snorts through his nose and continues rifling through his pile of laundry, shaking his head.

“You know, you’re always so worried about that,” Pietro murmurs, lovingly exasperated, “But I always have a good time with you, and for once in your life, please, my little schnookum bear, I beg of you: stop worrying about me.”

Tossing an old pair of now smooth-soled sneakers out into the swamp of his bedroom, Pietro continues, his voice firm but affectionate.

“Like, seriously, it’s your birthday! Of all the days of the year, this should be the one where you give yourself an excuse to be even just a little bit selfish and do exactly what you enjoy, and I’ll be there to watch you enjoying yourself, you know?”

“Pete--”

“Sorry, yeah, that sounded kinda dirty, I know.”

He can hear her let out a little snort of laughter through the phone and he grins, pressing on.

“I mean, unless that’s what you wanna do instead of going out for dinner: totally cool with me if you wanna do that. I’m totally happy to watch. I prefer active participation, but--”

“Pietro!”

“Fine, fine, message received. But, seriously, I’m on my hands and knees, begging you, babe,” he interjects, having knelt down to search deeper in the back of the closet. “If you really, truly think that you, personally, as an individual, would not have a good time there, we’ll go wherever you want. But I know you’ve always wanted to go to a place like this: you know, with real fabric napkins and no table bread and food that needs a translation under it. And I’ve always wanted to see you, you pretty little thing, in a place like that.”

He can hear her shyly giggle on her end and his heart melts, cheeks flushing pink as he imagines that adorable smile she makes whenever he flatters her. Sighing dreamily, he sits back on his knees and stops his hunt, reveling in the ambient sounds of her on the phone; her breaths, her contemplative tapping, her fading laughter, the scratch of her sleeve brushing the mouthpiece of the phone.

“I know you really wanna go. And I want to be the guy to take you. So please, for me, enjoy yourself, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” she relents, her voice light with restrained laughter. “Thank you, honey.”

“Of course. Now, you just go and get yourself all dressed up and I’ll be over in an hour to get you, alright?”

“I’ll see you then.” He can hear the sound of her smile, and Pietro breathes out a deep sigh of endearment. “Bye!”

“Bye, babe.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he hears her hang up the phone with a final click, and Pietro returns his receiver to its cradle on the nearby table, then turns his attention back to the closet. A large pile of refuse has formed behind where he was kneeling-- the result of tossing every unappealing item over his shoulders-- and he squints at it disapprovingly before kicking into a higher gear. The clock stops ticking as Pietro rushes through every item of clothing in his closet, breezing through the lumps of wayward shorts and tees and leather jackets until he finds exactly what he’s looking for: the crisp, bright blue shirt he wore a few years ago to Lorna’s bat mitzvah.

He returns to the mirror and admires it against his complexion, nodding: it will do nicely. He finds his one pair of good slacks and his best leather jacket (having torn his only formal jacket during the horah at Lorna’s aforementioned bat mitzvah) and assembles the outfit, changing into it rapidly before slowing to take stock of how he looks.

Snapping his fingers, he realizes he’s missing a pair of acceptable shoes-- his usual silver sneakers just won’t cut the mustard this time around-- and rushes to find that tightly-pinching pair of patent-leather dress shoes he used to wear to school events and the occasional visit to temple, finding them shoved into a dusty corner under his bed and cramming his feet into them rather unceremoniously. As he remembers, they do pinch a little (he grouses that there’s no way he’d be able to speed wearing these), but a touch of pain is worth it to look presentable for his beloved.

Thinking of her, Pietro takes a pause, making eye contact with his reflection. He sees his own pitch-dark pupils staring back at him, then glances at his bedside table through the mirror. Turning, he opens the drawer of it and pulls out the elegant black velvet case within, its long, lean frame sitting comfortably in his equally long, lean hands. He tosses it lightly, feeling its weight, then remembers himself and sets it down gingerly on the bed, returning to the mirror with a sheepish energy about him as he reaches for his comb.

He passes it through his shock-silver locks and watches them fluff out, the dark roots standing up a little taller. He’d considered letting his hair fall as it naturally wants to in its waves and slight curls, but embarrassment had gotten the better of him and he’d brushed it flat after his morning shower, more accustomed to going out in public with straightened hair than with his curls intact.

As the comb brushes his scalp, he shivers a little, reminded of how it feels when he lays his head on her lap and she gently cards her fingers through his hair, teasingly dragging her nails down the nape of his neck. She always prefers when he lets his curls shine through, he remembers, smiling to himself at the memory of staring up at her while she plays with his winding rivers of silver and black waves.

Floating on a cloud made of memories of her, Pietro glides through his room, unsure how he’ll manage to wait a whole hour to see be at her side and take her to dinner. He busies himself with laying out everything he intends to bring-- wallet, car keys, gifts, comb, breath mints, flowers-- and then with cleaning his room.

Normally, he doesn’t mind a little mess, but if all goes well, he’s hoping to bring his sweetheart back into his room tonight and he’d hate to spoil the atmosphere by letting her step in a pile of his unfolded laundry or catch an eyeful of his food wrappers spilling out of the wastebasket. He speeds as best he can in his cramped dress shoes (before finally kicking them off, deciding he’ll put them back on closer to the time when he has to go and pick her up) and whirlwinds his laundry up and away into the closet and drawers, tornadoes his trash out into the bins, and dervishes all the dust away from his furniture. Taking a cursory glance at his room, he realizes that once the sun sets, he’ll need some softer mood lighting, and takes a jaunt out to the garage to find some of the holiday decorations, cycloning up a few loose cords of warm white fairy lights.

Bringing them back to his room, Pietro strings them in loose garlands around his bed, forming a sort of square canopy of pale yellow light when plugged in that follows the boundaries of his mattress. He likes it; it’s warm and bright, like the low glow of a fireplace down to its last embers. The room was as close to perfect as he was going to get it, he concludes.

Checking his watch, Pietro groans: only five minutes had passed since she’d hung up.

He is in for a long, long hour.

Laying on his bed, Pietro stares blankly at an episode of “The Six Million Dollar Man”. As Steve Austin slow-motion punches the bad guy du jour, Pietro idly lifts his wrist and checks the time.

6:45, reads the watch face. Close enough for him.

He grins and hops up from bed, straightening his shirt and tucking it into his pants as neatly as he can before once again squeezing his feet into his shiny, stiff shoes, giving his hair a final tousle in the mirror, and slipping into his jacket.

His pockets are hastily shoved with his keys and wallet and mints and comb, but he shows more delicacy when lifting up the flowers and gifts meant for her. He doesn’t want to crush her bundle of roses, lilies and daisies in his sweaty hands, nor drop her precious presents and risk damaging them, and so makes a careful beeline up out of his basement bedroom and out the front door, gingerly placing her intended favors on the passenger seat before scrambling into the driver’s seat and kicking things into gear.

It takes all the self-restraint he can muster not to run red lights or abuse the speed limits when getting to her house, and busies himself with fiddling with the radio when being stuck behind some lollygagging minivan is starting to eat away at his nerves. A distant guitar wails through tinny speakers as he chews his lip and peels past the idling cars, just on the quick side of the 55 mph signage, unable to wait a moment longer to see her. Pietro turns into the familiar suburban streets of her neighborhood and feels his heart jump into his throat, his pale face flushed with excitement and the jitters, his fingers drumming restlessly against the steering wheel as he begins to pull into her driveway.

He glances up at the window he knows leads to her bedroom-- he’d clambered up the tree in her front yard and in through those panes many a time in the past-- and sees the curtains pulled back, and the instantaneously recognizable silhouette of his girl darts from the window, making him beam widely: she had been waiting for him, and was now rushing to see him.

With a lightness in his step, Pietro equally rushes to the front door, flowers in hand, accidentally kicking in some of his blurring speed in his hastiness to get to her. He stops short at the welcome mat, causing the heels of his shoes to squeal against the porch beneath, and an embarrassed energy overcomes him, his ears flushing hot as he goes to ring the doorbell. The moment he does, the door peels open and there she is, in all her heartstopping glory.

His words leave him for a moment as he admires her; her hair is swept up and away from her neck, exposing its graceful curvature, and her face is radiant, glowing with a coy smile and bright, enthusiastic eyes. Her lips are parted slightly in anticipation of speech, but Pietro can’t help but notice how full and soft they look, begging to be kissed and never let go of.

She’s arrayed in an elegant cocktail dress he’s never seen her in before, and his eyes fall to the shape of her figure, a breathless smile overtaking his face as he drinks her in. The color of her dress brings out the warmth of her skin and she seems to positively shine as she twinkles another smile at him, lips tinted red as if just to tease him.

“These are for you,” he manages, jutting the bouquet forward and breaking the silent awe he’d accidentally built up around her.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she preens, tracing one neatly manicured finger along the wide petal of one of the sunny yellow lilies, “They’re lovely!”

She presses them up to her face and takes a deep breath, inhaling their scent as Pietro finds himself deliriously envious of a bundle of flowers. As she pulls back, he notices a smear of golden-brown powder that had definitely not been on her cheek prior to her stopping to smell the roses in the most literal sense.

He reaches out a hand and cups her cheek, brushing it along the soft swell of her smile and managing to wipe off the accumulated pollen that had no doubt come off of the stamen of the lily closest to her face. She leans into his touch and he finds himself knock-kneed, trembling at the mere sight of her gazing up at him with affectionate eyes and chasing after his hand on her face. Pietro can barely find it within himself to breathe, but draws in deeply and stands up straighter, putting on his most suave smile and taking her free hand in his.

“You ready to go, miss?,” he lilts, raising her hand to his lips to press a feather-light kiss to her knuckles. He can’t help but marvel at how unbelievably soft her hands are and how headily they smell of sweet vanilla lotion. “Your chariot awaits.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes as he waggles his brows suggestively at her-- she knows full well that his car is a beater handed down to him after his mom ran it up on a curb and got her license rescinded-- but nods, holding up one finger from her grip on the bouquet to indicate to him that he’ll have to wait a moment.

“Just let me put these in a vase and grab my purse and I’ll meet you at the car, okay?”

“Anything you say, birthday girl,” he coos back, giving her a second kiss before relinquishing her hand and watching her step back into her house, off to look for a vessel for her flowers.

As he waits, he heads back down to the car and glances through the window, his chest clenching as he realizes he nearly made an enormous blunder. Frantic, he snags open the passenger side door and grabs her presents, shoving the velvet box in his jacket pocket and stuffing the wrapped ones under a blanket in the back seat. If she’d seen those immediately, she’d have given him such a scolding all the way to the restaurant-- he can practically hear her stern voice and the tut-tutting of “Pietro Django Maximoff, you said you wouldn’t!”-- and he doesn’t want to sully their evening. No, the gifts would be given at the right time, once she was comfortable and in the mood for receiving them, and not a moment sooner.

He hears the front door click shut and turns around to face his beloved, eyeing her salaciously as she walks with a sway in her step. Her hips swing pleasantly from side to side, sashaying the skirts of the dress deliciously, and Pietro wants nothing more than to rush over to her, lift her up in his arms like the princess she is and devour her with kisses. Instead, he extends a hand to her and opens the car door for her, ever the gentleman as he helps her lower herself into the seat, watching her brush her skirts under her thighs and smile up at him from her seat.

“Thank you,” she repeats, pressing up a little in her seat to try and reach his face.

Instinctively, he lowers his head to meet her and rubs the tip of his nose to hers, an ooey-gooey affectionate gesture that he used to gag at when he saw couples at the mall doing it, but now can’t resist indulging in. He nuzzles her and sighs, pleased, then pulls away to join her in the car, head stuffed with the cotton-fluff of love.

Once in his seat, Pietro meets her eye and breaks into a nervous smile, his stomach alight with flutterings and tremors. He turns the key to the car and the radio blares to life, obnoxiously loud, and he makes a series of embarrassed half-noises, a combination of grunts, swears, and apologies. After he’s slammed the off button hard enough to issue a return to silence in the car, he sheepishly looks over at the object of his affections. She meets his eye, then immediately bursts into a fit of laughter, relaxing Pietro: nothing makes him happier than the sound of her laugh. He laughs too, and presses lightly on the accelerator, urging the car back onto the streets and headed off towards their destination.

He’s acting strangely.

She noticed it from the moment she opened the door to him: Pietro seems more tense, his gaze skittish and his mannerisms tight and jumpy. It’s not unusual for him to be flighty-- his speedster nature makes him more than a little deficit in his ability to focus on any one thing for a prolonged period-- but it is unusual for him to seem so uptight and easily flustered.

Pietro wasn’t too hard to tease into blushing, affection-starved as he was, but every time she went to hold his hand or lay her head on his shoulder during the drive, she could see his shoulders draw back and his ears start to burn that tell-tale red, his posture more stiff than she was accustomed to seeing.

He kept his usual puckish attitude, all jokes, both ribald and tame, but seemed a little distant, as if he was trying to keep something from her, and there is nothing she hates more between them than secrets.

Now, waiting in the foyer of the restaurant, she assesses her beau, who is currently chattering away at the receptionist about the reservation. She watches him-- how he leans in on the podium to point at the reservation document and presumably find the listing for ‘Maximoff’-- and he looks so wildly out of place in this establishment.

Not only does his starlight-silver hair make him stand out like a sore thumb, but his tall, wiry frame and carrying voice draw eyes, especially when compared to the buttoned-up and dour-faced older men and women populating the tables around them.

The restaurant is certainly more upscale in appearance than any other she’s ever been into; the walls lined with deep mahogany and the lights are low and atmospheric, the tables distantly separated and private, the waitstaff all tightly uniformed in formal vests and bow ties, chandeliers hanging from the wooden-paneled ceilings with dangerously glinting glass droplets. The staff walk by with balletically balanced trays of bubbling champagne and wheeled carts of entrees and hors d'oeuvres, bar flights and charcuterie boards. Some patrons have their meals brought to them in silver domed cloches, their lids pulled back to reveal the sumptuous dishes beneath. The ladies are dressed in pearls and diamonds and plunging necklines, and the gentlemen in fitted suits with sharp black lapels, pocket squares folded in crisp, harsh lines.

And there, in the middle of it all, is her Pietro, still loudly haggling with the host.

“And you got the right table?”

“Yes, Mister Maximoff,” she hears the host sigh. “Just as you requested, you have an upper-level table in the far corner.”

“And the request I made about the, uh, the dessert stuff?”

“Already taken care of,” drones the host, clearly at the end of her rope with Pietro. “Now, are you and your wife ready to go upstairs and be seated?”

He lets out an almighty stutter, half spittle and half choked words, and she decides it’s time for her to take the initiative. Coming up behind him and rubbing the small of his back, Pietro’s beloved squeezes his shoulder affectionately and nods at the host, trying to give her most placating smile.

“You’ll have to forgive him,” she murmurs conspiratorially with the host. “We’re ready to go up anytime. Isn’t that right, honey?”

Pietro manages an embarrassed series of nods and clutches onto his girlfriend’s waist with pale, nervous fingers, fidgeting with the seams of her dress as the two of them follow the host up the plush-carpeted stairs towards their table.

If the first floor felt luxurious, the second floor feels even more so: it has wide, lead-lined windows peering out over a view of the city, the last dredges of the setting sun’s light leaking in and giving the room an opulent glow. The golden-red sunlight catches on the polished surfaces of the even more widely spaced out tables, decorated with candles and foliage, and the room is filled with the sounds of gentle piano strings and the soft clink of dinnerware and fine crystal glasses.

The host leads the couple to a comfortably distanced and rather private corner of the restaurant, far enough from the other patrons that their voices were virtually undetectable but close enough to the pianist that the music was at a pleasant volume, and with an unbeatable view of the city’s uneven patchwork quilt of a skyline.

Dashing ahead, Pietro pulls out a chair for her and gestures to it with a sweeping motion, and as she sits down, patting her skirt so it won’t wrinkle, she feels his lithe hand give her shoulder a deep squeeze, working the pad of his thumb into the taut muscle there. Once she is situated, he rounds the table and seats himself across from her, and gives the host a wan smile, which prompts the individual to mention that a server would be by shortly to bring them their menus.

As the host leaves, Pietro leans across the table, flashing his nervous smile with a little more confidence now that they are alone. He extends his hand across the top of the table and leaves it with its palm facing skyward; a clear invitation for her to place her hand atop his. Naturally, she does so, and see his expression soften visibly as he feels the comfortable warmth of her skin against his.

“I made kind of a scene, didn’t I?,” Pietro balks, a self-conscious air overtaking his usual cocksure savoir-faire. “I’m so sorry--”

“Petey-sweety,” she teases, using the pet name he detests, watching him roll his eyes, “It’s alright. I’ll just tip extra.”

“No, no, no, no way! I’ll get it, I promise; see, I brought extra for tips, uh, in here--”

He fumbles aimlessly in his jacket pocket, accidentally spilling out a tin of Altoids, a plastic comb, and a slender, black something onto the carpeted floor below. Pietro lets out a panicked yelp and dives down in his chair to hastily gather his odds and ends, shoving them fruitlessly back into his jacket, his face burning a scarlet hue.

“Oh my god, Jesus Christ,” he whispers to himself, “Oh my god.”

“Honey, it’s okay, people drop their wallets all the time--” “I’m sweating like a hog,” Pietro groans, irrespective of the previous topic.

“Do you want to go to the bathroom?” “What? No!”

Turning his black-brown eyes towards her, Pietro’s gaze becomes intense, the flush of his face only serving to accent the fervor of his attitude.

“I’m fine, I’ll behave, I’m goody-goody. All golden.”

He flashes a broad, sweaty, and entirely unconvincing smile as she reaches over the table to brush a wayward silver lock out of his eyes, stroking down the shape of his round, slightly dimpled cheeks. He blinks slowly and allows her to cup his face, rubbing her thumb against his rosy skin, feeling the searing heat.

“I think I see what’s happening here,” she murmurs, causing Pietro to glance up at her with fearful exposure.

She watches him start to anxiously start to chew his lips, eyes flitting across her face with a frantic speed and muses that even when he’s all in knots, he’s still such an unbelievably handsome man; those button-black eyes, his strong, pointed nose catching the sun and casting a sharp shadow across the boyish planes of his face: she can’t help but be enamored of him, even as he’s nothing but a ball of nerves.

“You’re not used to ritzy dining, right?”

Pietro raises his pale brows in surprise at her observation, then nods emphatically, shrugging his shoulders up and down as if to shake off the weight of his prior disconcertion.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just totally alien to me,” he grumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck and scratching the dark grey hair at the nape. “I dunno how to behave in a place like this.”

“It’s fine, Pete. Just be polite and enjoy yourself. You know how to be polite, don’t you?,” she needles genially.

“I mean, I’ve got the generals down pat.”

He holds up his hand and extends one long pinkie, as if cartoonishly elevating a tea cup.

“Thou ought not to raise thine voice,” he lilts in a truly horrific attempt at an English accent, “And one ought not burp nor become flatulent at the table.”

“Oh, eugh, leave it to you to bring something like that up during dinner,” she laughs.

At the sound of her giggles, Pietro seems to unwind some more, slipping back into his natural, humorous state of being. He again takes her hand and gives it several loving pulses, running the smooth crests of his nails against the heel of her palm, tickling her slightly.

Just as he opens his lips to say something, a well-dressed waiter arrives at their tableside with a wine list and the leather bound menus, and he speaks to them in firm but hushed tones about the cuisine of the day, something about fresh-caught this and farm-delivered that. She tries her best to listen to him, but instead finds her eyes fixed on Pietro, who is nodding like a scolded schoolboy trying to get out of detention early.

When the waiter leaves them with their menus and silence returns, he lets out a tightly held sigh of relief and unclenches his shoulders, rolling them as if he was warming up for a boxing match. He cracked the spine of his menu and gave it a cursory glance before flitting his gaze up to meet hers, flashing her a familiar flicker of his usual pixielike smile.

“You go ahead and you get anything you want, Princess,” he drolls as he winks at her over the top of his menu. “My treat.”

“Oh, I will,” she jokes, screwing up her nose at him. “I’m gonna eat you out of house and home. I’m going to get this fresh caught lobster, ahi tuna, Kobe beef, and, hmm…”

She pretends to pause, tapping her finger against her chin in faux thought.

“The gold-leaf embossed ganache torte seems awfully tempting.”

“Very funny,” Pietro huffs, though he’s clearly smiling through his pretend indignation. “I’m really regretting coming to a place with no table bread, now, though. Coulda had you fill up on that and polished the night off splitting a salad.”

“Mmm,” she tones. “And yet, here we are. Not a scrap of it in sight.”

“Hindsight and all,” he grumbles, obviously more than a little amused.

As they settle into a more comfortable rhythm, Pietro begins to ease into himself again. His laughter becomes brighter, his posture less rigid, and his eyes fleet less from her, though he remains jumpy when the waiter comes back to take their orders; still, there’s visible improvement in his disposition, and her beloved seems to be coming back to her, joke by joke and touch by touch.

When their dishes are brought to them, Pietro shrinks back in disgust at how tiny the portions are: his steak is absolutely miniscule by his own standards, and he grouses when the staff leaves the table that it should be illegal to serve food so small.

“I mean, look at it!,” he pouts, tilting his plate towards her as the decorative pansy blooms on the dish become soaked in au jus. “It’s, like, proportional to a Ken doll, not a hunk of man like me!”

“Eat your dinner, hunk of man,” she taunts jovially. “It’s about the experience, not the size.”

Pietro glances up from his plate with a flirtatious air, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, but you can get the best of both with me--”

She hisses at him and kicks at his shin under the table, which only prompts him to laugh and lean across the table, planting a kiss on her cheek with impish glee. As she raises her fork to begin her meal, Pietro puts a hand up to pause her, and she quirks a brow at him, lowering her utensil again and watching him curiously.

“Before we tuck in,” Pietro murmurs, his face now beginning to become reddened once again, “There’s something I want to give you.”

“Oh?”

“I know you told me no gifts,” he says, “But I just had to.”

“Pietro--”

“I know! But… here.”

He produces his hand from inside the pocket of his leather jacket and lays something on the table, hidden under his palm as he builds suspense. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifts his hand, revealing-

“...Your comb?”

“My co-- No, wait, fuck!”

The obscenity leaves his mouth in a tone much louder than he intended, as he turns an even deeper shade of firetruck red, and he scrambles to grab his comb from off the table and push it back into his pocket. Once it’s there, he clamps his hands over his eyes and groans loudly into his palms, prompting his beloved to reach across and try to grip his wrists, caught between sympathetic hushes and barely suppressed giggles.

“P-Petey, come on,” she bubbles, voice jumping with her hardly hidden laughter, “It’s alright, come on!”

“Gah,” he grunts. “They’re gonna kick me out. Oh god, what if they kick you out for being with me?” “We’re not going to get kicked out,” she lulls softly. “No one even heard you!”

“Guhhhhh.”

“Please, baby? Won’t you just show me what you brought?”

A pause passes and Pietro peeks out from between two of his fingers, eyeing her before finally peeling his hands away and reaching down, scorned, into his pocket again. He takes his time, checks his hand, and then extends it to her: in his long palm, a black velvet case is housed, soaking up the low light with its decadent fabric.

“For you,” he all but whispers.

She lifts it delicately, opening the case on its small, golden hinge, to reveal a strand of glistening silver that culminates in a dainty opal droplet, glowing like a multicolored flame in the candlelight. Without any words, her thoughts muddled, she gingerly takes hold of the necklace and lays it flat across the span of her palms, watching the gem shift and glimmer in the light; it was set in silver, with a tiny diamond sitting just above the head of the droplet shape, reflecting back beaming points of light.

Agape, she looks up at Pietro, who is smiling tentatively at her, his eyes as bright as the jewels set before her.

“Before you get on me,” he interjects, taking her hand and squeezing it, “It was my grandmother’s, so I didn’t technically break the rules.”

He flashes her a rueful grin and pulses her hand again.

“Didn’t spend a dime more than I promised.”

“Oh, honey,” she breathes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he rushes, stepping up out of his seat to come around to her side and take the necklace in his hands. “Just, you know, try it on? For me?”

Once again lost for words and swimming through a haze of emotions, she nods at Pietro, who beams, unclasping the necklace and tracing it tenderly along the curves of her throat. He takes his time, seeming to revel in the proximity, and carefully closes the clasp at the base of her neck, allowing his fingers to trail behind, all along the column of her neck, down the skin of her collarbones, where he lifts the gem up and admires it in the light before setting it back down gently against her sternum, the jewel coming to rest in the crevice of her breastbone.

“There,” he says, his tone final and almost somewhat relieved. “Just as pretty as I’d imagined.”

Unable to find anything at all salient to say, Pietro’s beloved takes hold of his cheeks and tilts his face to hers, breaking his line of sight from her clavicle. She leans in and hovers her lips over his, hearing him draw in a sharp, excited breath, his dark eyes fluttering shut in anticipation.

“Thank you,” she manages. “I love it.”

“You’re welcome,” he breathes back, clearly anxious to get to the best part.

“I love you.”

His eyes flash open, and for a moment, he looks as stunned as a deer caught in the headlights. He freezes under her hands, every muscle fixed in place. Then, as quickly as it had come about, he loosens, and, without a word, presses up and kisses her, his hand naturally seeking the back of her head to pull her in as deeply as he can.

The kiss lasts a breath longer than is perhaps polite for such an establishment, but Pietro’s enthusiasm was never something to be quickly curbed. When he finally breaks away from her with a satisfied hum, his eyes bore into hers, half-hungry and half-satiated, and he manages to control himself enough to return to his side of the table and sit down, though a pleased grin is plastered to his face; the cat had gotten the cream and knew it better than anyone in the world ever could.

“You know,” he begins, a chagrined tone entering his conversation, “I was a little worried you weren’t going to like it.”

“Oh, you,” she tuts. “I’d love anything you gave me.”

“Well, sure, but, it’s like… I want to make tonight perfect,” he admits. “For you. You deserve a perfect day.”

“Every day with you is a perfect day!”

Pietro snorts indignantly, rolling his eyes at her attempt at placation.

“Of course, baby. But you know what I mean, don’t you?”

She nods; he’s a sweetheart, always trying to give her his own kind of affection, his own brand of love, but she knows it can be hard for him to be traditionally affectionate or conventionally loving, and this must be his attempt to give her what he thinks she’s missing out on.

Reaching out, she takes his hand in hers and kisses it on the heel, then cups his palm to her face, leaning into it with a smile that she can feel reaches all the way up to her eyes.

“I would have had a wonderful day with you, with or without the gifts,” she reminds him.

“Oh, shit, that reminds me,” he chirps, sitting up a little straighter. “I… may or may not have a few more of them in the car for later.”

“Pietro!”

“But, again, didn’t spend a dime! They’re all well within the boundaries you gave me! So, come on,” he grins, pointing at her dish with gusto. “Let’s dig in before it gets cold.”

The meal was delicious, just as she’d hoped, though its enjoyment was more than partially due to the company kept during its consumption.

Pietro had kept his promise and behaved himself all night long, showing himself to be a perfect gentleman when the mood suited him; he’d even called ahead and asked that her dessert be delivered quietly, with a candle burning atop it for them to wish over in their own private little celebratory silence. When she’d blown it out, she’d wished for one thing only: to always be by this strange, wonderful man’s side.

Finally headed home for the night, she held Pietro’s hand as they drove the darkened streets of the city, his thumb rubbing routine patterns over the cresting hill of her knuckles. The radio was turned low for them to talk to one another, and as they followed the winding corners of roads leading back towards his house, Pietro began to crack his usual tongue-in-cheek comments.

“Saucy, isn’t it,” he teases, “You stayin’ over at my place all night long. People might think we’re up to something.”

“You wish,” she bites back.

“More than anything!,” laughs the boy at her side. “But a gentleman would never propose such indecencies to a lady like you.”

“Mm,” she hums. “A gentleman indeed.”

“Oh, speaking of staying the night,” Pietro adds, casting a glance back over his shoulder, “Would you be a doll and feel around under that blanket in the back seat? There should be a couple mystery packages in there for you.”

She reaches back through the gap between the seats to lift the corner of the sloppily thrown blanket and sees the dim outline of two boxes. Managing to pick them both up, she plants them firmly on her lap and turns back to Pietro, whose eyes flit between the road and her face at a speed most would find unsettling, but she is more than accustomed to.

“Open the big one,” he grins.

Acquiescing, she unwinds the blue ribbon off the top of the wide, flat box and lifts its lid, revealing a layer of folded fabrics. She reaches into the box and takes it out: a massive, grey-green flannel, clearly much too large for her.

“This is--”

“My old one, yeah,” Pietro smirks, rotating the steering wheel left. “You kept sneaking off with it every time you’d come over, and it looks cuter on you, anyhow, so that’s part one.”

He juts his chin towards the box, indicating for her to look into it once more.

“Go find part two.”

Underneath where the flannel had lain was a layer of pink tissue paper, and she lifts that away to find a neatly folded tee, which she holds up to admire as the flannel lays across her shoulder.

It, too, is much larger than her size, and registers as a dark grey shirt printed with something across the chest, though the car is a bit too dim for her to make out the symbol with any clarity. Pietro notices her squinting and squeezes her thigh, tapping the front of the shirt quickly.

“‘S the RUSH one. You wore it that one time--”

“When I fell in the pool!,” she recalls excitedly.

“Yep! And, again, way cuter on you. Now, for part three.”

Once again, a divider of pink tissue obscures the next installment from her, and when she peels it back, there, beneath:

“...Oh, god, these aren’t used are they?”

Pietro laughs merrily as she warily holds up a pair of check-printed boxers by their elastic waistband and shakes his head, making the final turn into his neighborhood and pulling into his spot.

“Nah. I got a pack new and this was one of, like, five pairs in there. And it doesn’t count as spending, you know, because I was already buying them for myself and the extra pair for you is just an added bonus.”

“...So they are clean, yes?”

“Yep!”

“And why did you give me boxers?” “So you can have a full set of PJ’s, babe,” he says, voice reflecting some perception that this conclusion should have been obvious. “For staying over.”

“Oh!”

Parking the car, Pietro pops the brake on and reaches into the box, producing the final layer within: a pair of crisp white gym socks.

“Same deal as the boxers,” he explains. “Packed ‘em ‘cause I know your feet get cold at night.”

His recollection of that detail melts her heart, and she forgets all about the shock of unveiling a pair of men’s boxers in her birthday gift; she leans across the console between the seats and plants a warm kiss on Pietro’s dimpled cheek, hearing him chuckle airily to himself as she does so.

“That’s too sweet of you, bunny,” she says, stroking the flyaway streaks of silver that brush her nose as she hovers near his face. “I’ll be all comfy-cozy for our little sleepover!”

“Aw, God, don’t say it like that,” he groans. “‘Our little sleepover’ makes it sound like we’re eleven year old girls about to paint each other’s nails and gossip about what boys we like!”

“Are you saying you don’t want me to paint your nails tonight?”

“...No,” he smiles.

“Correct.”

“Well, anyway,” he concludes, pecking her on the tip of the nose before unbuckling his seatbelt and moving to get out of the car, “Let’s get a move on. Basement’s waitin’.”

“Always in such a hurry,” she bemoans, trying to collect all her garments and unbuckle herself, only to hear the all-too-familiar whistle of Pietro kicking in his speed to flit around the car, rush open her door, unclick her belt, lift her into his arms, and jog up to the front door with her pressed to his chest.

She reels for a moment after he stops his breakneck speed, but quickly regains her bearings: she’d sped around with him enough times to be mostly, somewhat, almost over the motion sickness by now, and steadies herself against the wall of his house as he Cheshire grins at her.

“You got your last present there, pumpkin?,” he asks, surveying her.

She holds up the unopened, slightly smaller box and wiggles it at him.

“Perfect.”

Pietro lifts her again and before she can blink, they’re down in the basement, the door shut behind them, and she’s sent reeling this time not by the sensation of his speed, but by the state of his room.

“Oh, wow,” she mumbles, gazing how clean and orderly and attractive his room was, doused in warm light as the stereo played softly tinkling music, completely unlike his usual psychedelia or ear-splitting rock. “You cleaned up?”

“Yeah,” Pietro admits, futzing with a throw blanket that now covered the majority of the couch (and its stains). “I wanted to make it… nice.”

“Well, you did a hell of a job,” she beams. “It’s so… pretty! I never thought your room could be pretty!”

“Hey, it’s not that bad, normally!”

“Sweetie, you leave Pringles cans under furniture. I’ve found Twinkie wrappers under your pillows. You stack your electronics like Jenga bricks.”

“...Okay, well, there’s no Pringles cans or Twinkie wrappers in sight, tonight, all for the sake of the lady,” he boasts, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her to the beaded partition that divides his makeshift bedroom from the boiler room. “Go get changed.”

“Promise not to peek?”

Pietro holds up his hand in the Boy Scout’s salute.

“On my life.”

“Show me the other hand.”

From behind his back, he extends his other hand; crossed fingers.

“If I so much as hear a breeze,” she chides, “I’ll know it’s you.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I’m only playing! Look!”

He places both hands over his eyes and turns away from her, facing the wall and dutifully walking towards it.

“I’ll behave!”

With that, she takes advantage of the momentary silence to duck behind the curtain and get changed. True to his word, she detects no hint that he’d speeded into the room to get a look while she was changing; no gust of wind, no hissing zip, no blur of silver. When she re-enters the room, garbed in his flannel and boxer gifts, which, she has to admit, are deeply comfortable, he’s still facing the wall, though tapping his foot impatiently.

“Thank god,” he groans, hearing the beaded curtain part for her, “You took forever!”

“It was, at best, two minutes.”

“That’s a long time for me!,” he whines as he turns back around and rushes to her side, cupping her waist and drinking in the sight of her. “You know that!”

“I do, I do,” she relents, patting his cheek. “Now, c’mon. I’m tired.”

“Wait, you gotta open your last present,” Pietro says, speeding off and returning with the box in hand. “It’s a good one!”

She smiles at him and nods, sitting down on the edge of his bed, where he joins her. He watches her hawkishly as she tears off the paper, revealing a small book with a hard plastic cover. Unsure of what it is, she turns it over in her hands a few times, then lifts the front cover to discover that it’s a miniature photo album.

Upon seeing what the first photo is, she snorts so hard she covers her mouth, ashamed of the noise she’d let out: Pietro just laughs and laughs.

“You know how you always bug me about my baby pictures?”

“You take them down every time I come over!,” she interjects.

“Comme ci, comme ça,” Pietro says, flicking his hand dismissively. “Anyway. These are all of ‘em. Or, at least, all the ones I could get copies of at the print shop.”

There, in her hands, is photographic proof of Pietro as a baby: silver haired and tiny, wearing a miniscule pair of overalls and holding a pot over his head, banging it with a spoon, or laying in his crib, jet black eyes beaming out from under teensy grey eyebrows.

“I know it’s kind of a mood killer,” Pietro mumbles, “But I thought, you know, they’d make you laugh…”

“They’re adorable!,” she giggles joyously, flicking through page after page of the glorious images. “Oh my god. You used to suck your thumb?”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m taking them back--”

“No, no, babe!”

“You’re gonna think of me as a baby!”

“No, Pietro, come on!”

She lets out a bright peal of laughter as Pietro tries to wrestle the book away from her, only to knock her over on her back and pin her down, still grabbing for the book as she shoves it under her back. He glowers down at her but, upon realization of his current position, the expression quickly shifts to one of devilish delight, and he cranes his neck to bury his face in the crook of hers, biting lightly on the sensitive skin there and making comically bad growling noises, halfway between cute and embarrassing.

They wrestle around for a moment, laughing over one another, until his bites turn more affectionate and soft and his energy lulls into a more calming, attentive kind; he strokes her arms and rubs his pointed nose along her skin, humming lightly to himself as they both enjoy the comfort of being in one another’s arms. As he kisses her neck, light and loving, his hand wanders there and traces the thread of the necklace, fidgeting the the bauble at the end, his fingers brushing against her collarbone as he burrows in close.

“I was worried,” Pietro mumbles into her neck.

“About the restaurant?”

“I guess,” he continues, voice muffled by her hair and flesh. “But more that… that you wouldn’t like any of this. Any of me. That I’d fuck up at the restaurant or come on too strong with the gifts or seem like a creep--”

“Pete…”

“But I kinda like coming on strong,” he continues, rambling in his bout of nerves. “I like giving it all, one hundred percent, all for you, you know? I like treating you like a princess and like my best friend, and, you know, I liked it when that lady thought you were my wife; sorry, does that sound like a lot?”

“No, honey,” she giggles, “I liked it too!”

“Good,” he sighs. “I just… get scared that you won’t, you know, like me, because I can be so fucking difficult--”

He cuts himself short and takes a deep breath, pressing his face harder into her neck.

“But you do, right? You do like me?”

His voice quavers softly as he seeks her validation, and she squeezes him tightly in a hug, raking her fingers through his hair and hearing him shudder serenely into her. The tension in his spine leaks away and he rests his surprisingly hefty weight against her, pressing down on her as she manages a soft “of course I do.”

“You know I love you,” she adds, stroking his hair soothingly.

There is a silence between them as she feels Pietro adjust himself to be even closer, hooking himself so that he is clinging to her tightly and his head is pressed into the warm nook between her jaw and her shoulder. His breaths rise and fall and puff out against her skin, familiar and stirring all at the same time. After a moment, he speaks again.

“I love you,” he manages. “So much.”

“I know.”

“Happy birthday, babe.”

“Thank you for making it one.”

They lay in the blissful calm of their love, holding onto one another in quiet peace before Pietro breaks the silence once again.

“You ever gonna give me those pictures back?”

“Nope.”

“Shit!”

#pietro maximoff #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x reader #gif warning #long post #original #WOW I DID IT... A REAL FIC IN GOD KNOWS HOW LONG....#marvel

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bnhabadass · 4 years ago

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Pairing: Bakugou x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1342 Synopsis: You’re bored during fall break and your plan to sneak out for an early morning coffee run goes south in a split second.

You knew that sneaking out was a bad idea and that you would never be able to live it down if you were caught. But my god were you so bored during fall break. You hadn’t realized how ingrained your friends at Yuuei had become in your daily life. Now that you were home, you missed waking up to the smell of Sato cooking breakfast each morning or of Yaomomo surprising you with a soothing cup of tea after a stressful studying session.

Most of all, you miss spending nights in your boyfriend’s dorm, curled up in his arms and feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. You miss sneaking out of his room at four in the morning and tiptoeing back to your room so no one would know what you’ve been up to.

Now, as you sat in your room at home, all you wanted was to be engulfed in those strong arms once again. It was 4:30 in the morning. Your parents were asleep and probably thought you were as well. But you just couldn’t! You stayed up playing video games and reading and watching Netflix, anything to pass the time.

You checked your phone for the thousandth time, just to see if any of your friends had texted you or if the class group chat was active. It was not. Kaminari was awake, as you could tell from the video he posted to his Snapchat story of him seeing how many sticks of pocky he could fit in his mouth. While it gave you a good laugh, he’s not the person you want to see right now.

Katsuki valued his sleep, and you knew that more than anyone. The first night you spent in his room, you woke him up by weaving your fingers in his hair and caressing his brow bone with your thumb, planting light kisses on his neck. He almost blasted you into the wall for waking him up before he had gotten his eight hours.

“Dumbass,” he said. “Wait until I’m at least somewhat awake before you go putting your mouth all over me.”

There was a very low chance he’d be awake right now and you knew he’d kill you for calling him and waking him up. But one text couldn’t hurt, right?

(Y/n): pssssst katsuki. wanna go for a coffee run tomorrow???

You threw your phone to the side and continued watching your show, already feeling better from just texting him. Not even ten minutes went by before you heard the buzz of your phone and you jumped out of your seat to grab it.

Katsuki: What the hell are you doing up this late?

(Y/n): i should ask you the same thing??? you’re never up this late!

Katsuki: Couldn’t sleep

(Y/n): were you thinking of me??

Katsuki: Don’t give yourself too much credit, Baka.

You laughed at his last message, getting comfy in your nest of blankets, pillows and stuffed animals.

(Y/n): what are you doing?

Katsuki: Well I was weight training but then you texted me…

(Y/n): awww i’m sorry. do you want to go back to your training?

Katsuki: Nah. Now I kind of want to go for a late night coffee run with the idiot who stays up til 5 am waiting to text their boyfriend.

You squished your face in one of your pillows and let out a muffled squeal. It amazes you how head-over-heels you are for the person you’ve been dating for nearly a year now.

(Y/n): oh yeah?? wanna pick me up in ten???

Katsuki: Be there in ten, baby.

You stood up and did a little victory jig around your room. You slipped out of your sweat pants and put on a pair of jeans and threw a hoodie over the oversized sleep shirt you were wearing. Katsuki would have been about seven minutes away when it occurred to you just how paper thin the walls in your parents’ apartment were. If you went down stairs and out the front door they’d hear you for sure.

“Shit,” you muttered. Your boyfriend would pick you up any minute and you had no way of leaving.

Glaring at the pile of dirty laundry in the corner of your room, an idea struck. You began tying the sleeves of your shirts and sweaters and the legs of pants together using knots you learned during survival training for your internship. You’re sure this isn’t what Kamui Woods meant for you to use these for when he taught you, but duty calls and if there is anything you love more than training to be a hero, it’s your stuck up, poll up the ass boyfriend.

With a rope made of smelly laundry and a new found confidence you could only assume was from sleep deprivation, you were ready. You opened your bedroom window, making sure to be as quiet as possible, and tossed one end of the rope out your window. The other you had tied to your bed frame.

You didn’t have that much experience with rope climbing, but you did know the basics. You stepped out of the window, planting your feet on the side of the building. Your apartment was on the second floor, so you were able to scrounge up enough clothing to make the rope pretty long. You had wrapped it around your torso once, creating some form of bellet.

It’s safe to say that Katsuki was horrified when he pulled up in front of your building. Balancing off the side of the building was you, his precious, delicate and somewhat idiotic significant other who looked terrified as you climbed down the building.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” he shouted up at you. He hadn’t even bothered parking his car, just put the break down and ran out as fast as he could.

“Don’t worry babe, I got this,” you shouted down at him. As if the universe hated you in that moment, your hand slipped and you fell about a foot down before your homemade rope caught you. You let out a small whimper as fear set in. “What are the chances that you’d catch me if I fall.”

“Not a goddamn chance.” His terrified face turned into one of amusement as he crossed his arms and rested against the side of the building.

“Asshole,” you yelled down at him. You didn’t bother listening to his response. You swung your legs back and forth to get closer to the building. You inched your way down its scratchy surface until you were about half way there. “I’m close, babe!”

Katsuki scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re actually pulling this off, baka.”

You smiled and continued sliding down the rope. The smile on your face faltered, however when you noticed the rope becoming a bit longer. You looked up, eyes widening and pupils dilating as you saw one of the knots hanging out of your bedroom window was unraveling. You took a deep breath in as it came undone and squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for impact.

But the feeling of the concrete below never came. Instead, you fell somewhat gracefully into Katsuki’s arms. “Don’t worry,” he said, smoothing the pad of his thumb over your brow. “I got you.”

“Katsuki,” you looked up at him with pleading eyes. “You saved me.”

He scoffed. “I could have seen that coming from a mile away. That has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

“Dumber than the time Kaminari and I mixed sriracha in with our milkshakes?”

“A thousand times dumber.” He set you down and dusted you off even though there wasn’t any dirt on you. “Come on, you’re buying me a coffee after giving me a heart attack like that.”

“Fine fine, you deserve it.” You patted your pants pocket and realization struck. “Babe, I left my wallet upstairs.”

“Seriously?” Katsuki looked at you with disbelief but quickly shrugged it off. “You’re lucky I love you, baka.”

#katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugo #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #fluffvember #fluffvember 2020 #bnha fluffvember #bnhabadass does fluffvember

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angelruel · 4 years ago

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vintage pt.2

summary: the reader gets into an accident which causes her to lose her memory. as Ruel begins to rebuild their relationship and recall the good memories between them, some bad ones are restored as well and might threaten their future.

masterlist

Word Count: 4.4 k (kind of long, oops)

“Soooo what’s my favorite color?”

“Easy. Blue,” he retorted while reaching over to fill in a space on the tic tac toe board that Y/N had drawn on her empty lap desk. He was the x’s and she played the o’s. It was a bit difficult for Ruel to pretend to not know all of her tricks she played in this game, but he was a very convincing loser. She had also taken the opportunity of his return to test him on some trivia of her personal likes and dislikes.

“Okay, here’s a good one,” she said as she filled the left hand corner on the board with a perfect circle. Ruel learned a long time ago that her strategy was to fill two corners and the center spot of the board in order to have an upper hand on winning. He watched her play the same way over again. Ruel admired her predictability and he almost felt confident enough that her tic tac toe skills returning would somehow correlate to her feelings for him to return as well.

“Well finally a good one. Lay it on me.” He gave her his signature soft smile that he always grants her when he’s being his sweetest version of a boyfriend.

“What’s my favorite song? Or, at least one of my favorite songs.”

Ruel scrunches up his nose in thought, “hmmm. I’m gonna need a little more context, bub.”

“Okay so maybe my favorite song I like to hear on a road trip. Something that gets me energized.” Ruel found it funny that she was reaching for more and more clues to jog her memory. They both knew that couldn’t she remember the last road trip she’d been on, or any of them for that matter. He was proud that she was at least in a more positive mood about not remembering things.

“Wait a Minute! by Willow Smith. There’s one.”

Y/N’s happy expression dropped to a confused one.

“Huh? I don’t listen to Willow Smith.”

They both just sat there for a while. There was still an apparent wall that Y/N had built up to secure herself from being hurt by Ruel since she barely knew him.

But the truth was that she barely knew herself.

“Well, I guess I did listen to her music,” she dropped her head down. “I guess I just can’t remember it.”

Ruel used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe off the marker drawings on Y/N’s desk tray so that he could lean over it to hold her hands.

“Hey, how about we do something else? I brought back some stuff like you asked me for.” She looked up and gave him a soft smile when he let go of her hands to grab a blue shoebox from the floor.

“Oh, you brought gifts! Yay!” she exclaimed while clapping her dainty hands over and over. He sat the box in front of her lap on the hospital tray and she stared at it for a minute. One of the things she did remember was that blue was her favorite color. And after having a few conversations with Ruel, she discovered that his was brown. So, she assumed that the color of the box was a little nod to her. She thought that was really sweet.

“You can go ahead,” he encouraged her. “If you have any questions, just ask.”

She hesitated to lift the flimsy lid from the top. Partly because she was afraid that seeing the contents wouldn’t help jog her memories at all, and also because she was still pretty weak from the constant dosage of pain meds she’d grown accustomed to.

The first things to come out of the box were some polaroids and a bunch of little papers she grabbed that were grouped together. One of the polaroids showed a group photo in front of a campfire with little writing at the bottom that said ‘new years 2020.’ There were some post-it notes with little messages written on them in pencil. They were fading but Y/N could still make out what they said. It was a girl’s handwriting, and there was a little drawing of a pond? Or maybe a lake.

i drew you a pond since you wanna act like a silly goose all the time. bitch.

-y/n

There was another one filled with words instead of a cute drawing, and she assumed this one was a serious matter.

hi, love. i left to go watch the sunrise with coco around 4 am-ish. you probably would’ve wanted to join us, but you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. and coco said that you’ve been smothering me lately and encouraged me to sneak out. anyways, i’ll probably be back before you see this, but just in case i’m not, don’t call the cops. okay that’s all. in case i never return, i love you.

-y/n (under the heavy influence of stella)

Ruel chimed in to explain. “Yeah, you used to leave me little notes like that sometimes instead of texting like a normal person.”

“And you kept them?”

“Of course I did. I’m not a monster.” He joked and she playfully hit his chest with the stack of notes. Ruel scooted his chair closer to the side of Y/N’s bed and leaned in. “Lets see what else we got in here.”

There were movie tickets, receipts from restaurants, and even old wristbands from festivals.

“Is this what you meant when you said I grow attached to material things?” She laughed on the outside but in reality, Y/N was so infatuated in the idea that a boy would keep a box of things that reminded him of her and their relationship.

“Ha yeah, I guess it kind of rubbed off on me after a while.” Ruel reached his hand into the box as well and pulled out a little beaded bracelet. It had a simple pattern of ocean blue and brown wooden beads. He played with it in between his fingers.

“I remember this. Your cousin made it for us when you brought me to Thanksgiving. She kept running back and forth asking us what our favorite colors were. It was so cute. And she said we had to share it,” he reminisced.

He gave her the bracelet which she carefully placed on the wrist that wasn’t connected to an IV. There were mostly pictures in the box. Pictures of Y/N and Ruel in different settings: kissing, posing next to venue signs with his name on it, cooking, etc. She picked up one of the pictures and examined it carefully.

“I remember this,” she said in a nonchalant matter. Ruel looked up at her, then back at the picture in her hand.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I remember that whole trip. That was a fun trip. Hmm.” She hummed to herself in bliss with a grin on her face.

“Tell me about it,” he grinned back at her. “What do you remember?” She looked down for a while. It was almost like the times they spent together were in secret, and too precious to share with anyone else. She felt a deep connection to someone-whoever it was to make her feel such strong emotions in just the echos of the times they spent together. Y/N began longing for the person who made her experience this type of fondness. The person she was looking for was right in front of her. Why was she holding back?

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“Okay, how do I say this,” Y/N’s hand snaked up to her head to rake through her hair as she paced in deep thought. She took in a deep breath and turned around to look at him sitting in the hospital chair across the room.

“I-I want this to be special. I mean, you’ve been so patient and considerate with me. You haven’t tried to rush me into anything at all. But I see the way you look when you think I’m not paying attention. You’re hurting, and I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to finally give in. Well not, finally give in, but. You know, you know what I’m trying to say right?” She used every ounce of energy she had to walk across the room to face him. She picked him up and brought his face close to hers.

“I’m trying to tell you that I love you,” she whispered and smiled softly. Before she could say anything else, Y/N heard the doorknob rattle in desperation to open it.

She quickly threw the teddy bear back into the chair and tried to pretend that she was doing anything else.

Ruel leaned into the door frame and struggled to keep his balance as he carried a Taco Bell bag and two drinks in his hands.

“Oh, let me help you with that,” Y/N rushed over to him to grab the drinks and his eyes grew in shock.

“Well, it’s nice to see you up and moving so much. The doctor was right, you really have been getting stronger every day.” Y/N smiled up at him with pride as they both settled the food onto her desk. “So, have you heard anything yet?”

“Anything about what,” Y/N mumbled in between taking bites of her soft taco. She knew exactly what he was referring to, though.

“Oh, you know. Like when are you gonna get out of this place? I mean, with the way you’re up and walking now,” he brought his free hand up to rest on the back of her neck as he examined her face with concerned eyes. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? They said four to six weeks, but by the looks of it, you’re healing up really well. You’ve done so good lately.”

She mouthed ‘thank you’ and gave him another wide smile. Y/N was happy that he was proud of her progress. He played a big part of her growth, though. Through the discomfort and the multiple procedures she had to undergo, Ruel was always there at the side of her bed to rely on. Whether she was up at 4 am crying because she couldn’t remember the names of her dogs or freaking out in excitement after being able to stand up on her own, he was there for it all.

And as her strength developed each day, so did her trust and love for him. She assumed that it wasn’t the same as their previous relationship, but it was more than enough to keep them happy. He would always tell her that he loved her, but she didn’t say it back. He told her it was fine, that he knew she didn’t really know who he was and he wouldn’t hold it against her. But in return, he needed for her to accept that he still loved her as much as he did before the accident and to be okay with him loving her even if it meant that she couldn’t love him equally back for a while.

But after spending so much time with him, Ruel was hardly a stranger to Y/N anymore. He was a friend, a very understanding and attractive friend. She couldn’t ignore the burning sensation she felt deep in her stomach when he would cuddle up close to her on the bed during their movie nights. She couldn’t ignore the desire or the comfort she felt for him any time that he was around (which was very often because Ruel was always around). He told her that he would wait for her, that she should take her time to decide if she wanted to continue their relationship whenever she was ready. He told her that she’d just gone through a major trauma and that she needed to focus on getting better. He said he would wait for her, but a part of her feared that he was only saying this to make her feel better. She feared that he had already accepted that they were just friends, that maybe he’d already began a new romance with some skinny long-haired girl in Sydney and he was just waiting for Y/N to get her strength back so that he could go home to her.

“Okay, well I have to tell you something,” she finally came out with. Ruel sat up straight in his chair to give her his full attention. His eyes were fixated on her face and his hands rested in his lap. She found herself lost in thought trying to remember what she wanted to tell him but she couldn’t focus on anything but his beauty.

“Did they already tell you whether you’re going home or not?” he laughed a little as he went to grab his drink off of the desk. “Did I miss it when I went to get lunch?” He used the side of his jeans to wipe the water that got on his hand from the cup. His huge hand. The same huge hand that he then used to move the long strands of hair out of his face. He’d previously told her that she did not like the long hair look on him and always encouraged him to get haircuts and shave. In the moment, Y/N couldn’t figure out why the hell anyone would ever encourage him to change his appearance when he looked like that. The long hair and mustache gave him a much more mature look in comparison to the old pictures and videos she would look at of him. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to cut the hair that she so desperately wanted to run her fingers through. She quickly snapped out of it and shut her eyes so she couldn’t look at the beautiful boy in front of her.

“I really do have to tell you something,” she started and stopped because she was nervous. With her eyes still closed, she felt Ruel’s hand grab hers.

“What’s going on, why are you acting so weird?” he let out a nervous laugh and Y/N realized that he was probably feeling the same anxiety as her in the moment. She knew that someone had to be the confident one in this scenario, and she decided that it would be her. She took one last deep breath and let go of it.

“Do you remember what I told you when I first told you I loved you?”

“Yes,” he laughed again, “Do you want me to tell you the story again?” She nodded quickly in a child-like manner and looked at him in adoration.

“It was a little after a month of us dating and I’d just taken you home after we went out driving and just hanging out. I was almost back in the car when I saw you run out of the house, barefoot, yelling at me to wait.” Y/N laughed a little and felt the tension between the two of them begin to melt away.

“And then what did I do?”

“You went into this whole speech about how you felt and how you were very scared to be vulnerable because you were afraid of being hurt. And then you said something that I’d never forget,” he looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were written on the tiles, “you told me that the fear you felt only grew as you fell more in love with me. You said you thought that it would never go away, but you didn’t want it to stop you from embracing the happiness you felt when you were with me. And then you told me you loved me, and that you were scared of me. You said that I made you wanna jump into the fear rather than run away from it. You said you knew that you loved me as soon as you felt scared. Because you knew you had found something worth cherishing. And if it ever went away, you didn’t think you’d survive it.” He looked down. After saying all of that, it still seemed like there was something he was missing. He looked as if he didn’t manage to not break her heart. He was scared too.

“Ruel?” Y/N let her hands relax and gripped onto his tighter.

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared.” She began to fiddle with his long digits and almost felt hesitation to do anything next.

“What are you afraid of-” he began, but was interrupted by the connection of her lips onto his. He freed his hand and rose it up to the back of her neck so he could deepen the kiss. They kissed again, and again. They kissed until their faces were red and she broke away for a moment to catch her breath. She smiled at him and he looked back at her in disbelief.

“I love you. I really do, Ruel. And I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long but I don’t want to be just friends. I want you in my life like you used to be,” her eyes dropped to her lap and her expression changed, “before everything got so fucked up.”

He grabbed her face again and began to pepper it with kisses. At this point, Ruel was halfway onto her bed. She brought up her dainty hands to cup his face and she gently pulled away again. Ruel hitched a rushed breath out as he pouted in confusion as to why she pulled away.

“Oh yeah, I’m going home today.” She smiled with her teeth and he laughed in pure bliss before grabbing her face again.

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The boxes piled in the middle of the living room all started to disappear one by one. Y/N watched in awe as Ruel picked up every box and placed it in its proper area. Her legs swung back and forth in boredom while she waited on top of the kitchen counter where Ruel had placed her since she refused to wear shoes on the trip to her apartment.

“You’re such a good slave,” she told him in a sweet tone as her eyes followed him across the area. He shook his head, barely giving her an ounce of the attention she practically begged for, and continued moving things around.

“Honey are you sure you’re gonna be okay on your own like this? You can stay back home a little longer if you’d like,” Y/N’s mother remarked. She looked at her daughter with concern.

“I’m not alone, I have Ruel. And besides, I’ve already left the nest once before. I should be fine.”

“Well I guess I’ll be on my way home now. Call me if you need anything. Anything.” Y/N pecked a kiss on her cheek and guided her mom outside.

By the time she got back into the apartment, the living room was clear of boxes and she moved down the hall in search of her boyfriend. She found Ruel in her bedroom on the edge of the bed hunched over his phone.

“What’s so interesting?” She sat down beside him and rested her chin on his shoulder. Once she realized what he was watching, she pulled out one of his airpods so she could listen in. It was from her Youtube channel she started a few months ago. She had faint memories of vlogging herself doing normal things like grocery shopping or going to her brother’s football games. She’d only looked at a few of her storytime videos, including the one where she details how she met Ruel. This was a video she hadn’t seen before, though. It was of her and Ruel together in some resort. It looked like they were on vacation and he explained to her that they were in Amsterdam for some music festival and had decided to make an entire trip out of it since it was so close to their anniversary. They’d coordinated matching outfits for the first weekend and were posing in front of the bathroom mirror together like lovesick idiots.

“Damn, I’m so jealous of us.”

Ruel let out a low chuckle at her and skipped through the parts she’d recorded of his performance.

“Yeah, most people are.” He fast forwarded to a portion of the video after they returned to the hotel. Ruel was in the shower and Y/N was laying on the bed, recently showered, detailing all of the ways she was proud of her boyfriend. He laughed when she poked fun of how he forgot his own lyrics on stage.

“Well that was almost cute,” he added and locked the phone.

“Hey, it’s still pretty cute,” she laughed, “You can’t be mad at me for telling the truth, babe.”

“Babe, huh?” he questioned as he turned to face her.

“What, is that weird? Or too soon? I mean, you call me ‘bubs’ and ‘love’ all the time,” she looked down and played with the details of her jeans.

“It’s adorable. I love it. And I love you,” he reassured her as he cupped her face and pulled it in for a puffy kiss. She kissed him back, this time with more dominance. Y/N kissed Ruel like there was a pot of gold hidden somewhere in his mouth that she was determined to get.

Ruel matched her energy right away. He kissed her back and gripped the back of her neck to guide her face closer into his. They adorned each other with open mouths and full hearts. As they continued, Y/N felt the urge to go further and further with him, exploring his body and getting to know him on a more intimate level. They were so good at making out, it seemed like they’d done it a thousand times before. It felt like she was kissing a lover from a different lifetime, like she’d replayed scenarios over and over which all ended with her loving him. She couldn’t remember ever doing this with him before, but her body remembered. Everything with Ruel came with such ease. Every time he touched her body, she was overcome with euphoria and only craved more. She craved being closer to him, kissing him deeper.

“Mmm, take this off please,” she tugged on his shirt and he quickly pulled it off before resuming his actions. Y/N felt herself falling into an intoxicated state as she moaned against his mouth. He responded to her by wrapping his hand around her thigh and pulling it closer against him. They both began to move in sync with each other, both giving and taking as their bodies danced a routine they knew too well. Y/N was so distracted by Ruel that she didn’t even hear her mother walk back in through the front door. She only whined when he pulled his face away from hers.

“Why’dyoustop,” she breathed out. She was out of breath and watched him with puppy dog eyes as he stood up.

“Your mom is back,” he stated flatly. He was clearly out of breath too and he was trying to calm himself down so he could see what was going on in the front.

“...so?” she gave him a blank stare and patted on his side of the bed to join her again, “she can let herself out.”

“Don’t worry, bubs. We’ve got time,” he chuckled to himself and pulled his shirt back on over his head. Y/N sighed and jumped from her side of the bed to join Ruel in the living room.

“I’m sorry, hun. I forgot the most important box: your things from the hospital.” Y/N’s mother placed a small box on the counter and tapped the top of it lightly, “This is what you had on you when the crash happened. There’s not much in there, just the clothes you were wearing, your wallet, your phone,”

“My phone?” Her eyes perked up. So did Ruel’s. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I bet there’s a bunch of clues in there to help jog my memory,” she picked up the box and skipped down the hallway to drop it off.

“I’m pretty sure it’s dead, so you’ll have to find a charger for it. You probably have the same kind.” Her mom gestured towards Ruel, who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes were fixated in thought, emotionless and dazed in a trance.

“Huh? Oh yeah, probably. Sure.” He snapped out of his guilty state quickly and turned to see Y/N coming back from her bedroom.

“Was that it, Mom? Cause we were just about to go out and get some food before it gets dark.” They both said goodbye and hugged Y/N’s mother. Once the door was shut behind her, Y/N grabbed Ruel’s hand with a quickness. His worries were suddenly gone as she led him down the hall.

It wasn’t long before they’d continued right where they left off. Y/N was still indulging herself in him and embracing the comfort she felt in his arms. She gripped the fabric of his shirt into her fists to deepen the kiss and felt the vibration from his mouth into hers as he let out muffled moans. With each kiss, she found herself thinking about all of the things she couldn’t wait to do with him before another thought popped into her mind and snapped her out of the daydream. She pulled away from him and turned her head towards the box.

“I’ve been wondering what was left on my phone,” she gestured to the dresser. “I need to plug it up so I can see what was going on before I lost my memory. It would be cool to see who I last talked to right before my life was ruined, right?” She laughed and began to sit up. Ruel grabbed her hand and lightly pulled it so she could come back down to him.

“I thought you wanted to do this, yeah? I mean hey, this is our first official night together alone. We can look into the phone later, right?”

Y/N nodded and laid back down next to him. “Hmmm, you’re right. This first, phone later,” she declared before connecting their lips once more. As Ruel rolled his lanky body on top of hers, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why Ruel was so against her looking at her phone. Was there a dirty secret in there that he didn’t want her to find? She dismissed her paranoid thoughts and continued.

a/n: okay, so that’s that on that. ugh what is on that phone that he doesn’t want her to see???? i hope this makes sense, i’ve reread it so many times and it seems like crap but i’m still going to post it. thank you for the support of my page, and please send me asks with what fics you would like to see next ;)

#one ruel #oneruel #ruel #ruel fic #ruel imagine #ruel imagines #ruel one shot #writers on tumblr #ruelvandijk #ruel van dijk #ruel vincent van dijk #ruel x reader #rueledits

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 4 years ago

Text

Scars: Year four, Chapter twelve

Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Sexual assault, blood, fighting, cursing, bruising, self harm

When Y/n watched Remus enter the parlor she knew something was off about him, she could tell by looking at his eyes and facial expression. Normally he was happy and calm, or sad and tired but once he walked into the ice cream place and took a seat beside the girl; he looked distant. As if he wasn't really there with them. ____________________________

After the group finished their ice cream James decided they should go to the villages park. Which is where they are currently.

Sirius and James were laying on their backs counting clouds while Sirius occasionally flicked grass into James's hair, Remus was sitting against a pole reading and Y/n was simply sitting on a swing gently swaying. The four of them stayed where they were for a good thirty minutes before another kid about a year older than them walked over and sat on the swing beside Y/n.

Sirius and James took no notice of this and continued where they were, Remus however looked over at the boy and glared something so sharp at him he'd be six feet under if glares could kill. The blond haired boy however didn't get the message that the glare oh so clearly stated and continued to attempt conversation with Y/n. Eventually he stood up and went to leaning against the pole which was placed beside the girl, giving him a rather perverted view of the her from above.

Remus attempted to go back to reading his book and block the boy out but he clearly couldn't do so while knowing that he was flirting with Y/n; he came up with a compromise. The boy decided he would read and keep an eye on the pair of teens. One of which was beginning to become rather uncomfortable.

One second the boy was inanimately chatting with Y/n and the next he was forcing himself onto her.

One second Remus was sitting down cross legged and the next second he was kicking a kid in the gut; making him go halfway across an abandoned park and away from where his best friend lay gasping for air in the clutches of Sirius Black.

Remus bent down and grasped a handful of the kids shirt before yanking him up onto his feet.

" Oh come on man we were just talking! And it's not like anyone else would wanna kiss the bitch!"

Remus landed another furious kick to the kids gut before he punched him across the face, which made him go flying backwards into the dirt again. He gripped the front of his shirt again and pulled him upwards once more, held him in mid air, and leaned forward so the boy could smell Remus's shampoo their faces were so close. He began to furiously whisper to the boy words that made all color drain from his face in seconds. The blonde haired kid managed to whimper out a single sentence after hearing Remus Lupin's furious, anger ridden death toll, " It's not like we did anything other than kiss..."

Remus's face opted another disastrous look and he felt that he could've knocked the boy out right then for saying something so crude and immensely incorrect.

Now listen, Remus Lupin normally isn't a very violent person but when you not only impose yourself upon his best friend but also claim that you did no other harm and that you didn't do anything wrong; he won't hesitate to kick your fuckin ass.

and he'll do it good.

Just don't expect to get away before James Potter and Sirius Black both have a hit at you.

____________________________

The kid managed to scramble away before the damage became too much to handle and by the time that was done Remus's knuckles and fists looked bruised and bloodied. James and Sirius's only had minor bruises and a few specks of blood.

Soon after wiping his knuckles on the inside of his jacket he looked around for Y/n. She was still where Sirius had left her by the one tree. Remus and the other two boys went over to the silent girl and he crouched before her, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently swiping his eyes over her frame for anymore damage than he suspected.

The girl quickly wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands and curled back up in Remus's embrace before shaking her head. She soon looked at the hand that was enclosed around her waist and took it in her grasp. " Remus look at your knuckles..."

The boy waved her off lightly and pulled her back into his side, " Look at your hip. He probably bruised it worse than I bruised his face."

His voice showed ignorance and snide but his face showed concern and question. Sirius and James nodded with Remus. Y/n wiped her eyes once more and shook her head.

" Dammit Y/n..."

The three boys backed off and James extended a hand to help the girl up before they started walking again.

When they were relatively near the Lupin household Y/n reached out and grasped onto the nearest arm to keep from stumbling.

Remus fumbled and grabbed Y/n's elbow to steady her when she randomly grasped his lower arm. She straightened up and went back to walking before grasping his arm again to keep from falling. Her cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment as she kept a grip on his arm to steady herself. She mumbled out an apology to him before looking back down at the path where their destination lay only another short distance beyond, " Sorry, my legs always get numb when I bruise a hip..."

Remus pushed away the fact that she said they always got numb which signified that such a thing happening, was a regular occurrence. Sirius turned around and suddenly waggled his eyebrows at the two before Remus got an idea; yes, it was one that Sirius would probably never shut up about until he died, but still.

Remus smirked, bent down, placed his arms under Y/n's legs and waist before pulling her back up and twirling her bridal style as she let out a small shriek. Her arms found his shoulder and wrapped around them as he held her body up and walked again. " This better love?" The girl smiled and wacked him lightly on the chest as they walked through the snow. ____________________________

Remus walked into the house with James, Sirius and Y/n. His little sister came up and started pulling on Sirius's arm and Hope walked by to greet them.

" Did you have fun dears?" Her voice and face showed joy and welcome, until he saw Remus holding an almost asleep Y/n, knuckles bruised and lightly bleeding.

She dropped the knife she had been cutting ketchup with and her face paled.

Hope's next sentence came out sounding small and timid, " What happened?" And her voice cracked.

Sirius pointed over to Mrs. Lupin and did an odd sort of bow before pointing at Y/n and slowly walking away to the stairwell with the other two boys, " Um, give us ten minutes and we can explain."

Remus, James and Sirius walked up to first boy's bedroom without waiting for a reply an he carefully laid the nearly passed out girl on his bed before pulling her shoes and jacket off and helping her lay down.

As soon as the girl's head hit the pillow, she was out. Remus leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead, tucked her in and whispered, " we can fix that later..."

James and Sirius cooed at the sight and Remus stood up straight, flicking the two boys off. Soon, however, Hope marched in , " Someone please explain to me why Remus was carrying Y/n and why your knuckles are all busted!" The two black haired boys immediately shushed her and Remus glanced back at Y/n when she shuffled in her sleep.

James came up to Mrs. Lupin and grabbed her hands in his, guiding her over to a spot on the bed next to a sleeping Y/n. Sirius came up and stood beside James in front of Hope Lupin in adhesive expectancy. Remus went back over and stood next to Y/n, who was sleeping right by where Hope was setting.

" First thing, try not to wake her up. Second thing, it's a kinda long story-'

James's words were interrupted by a knocking at the main house door. Hope stood up, face pale with a mixture of anger and concern, and motioned for the boys to follow her to the door. Where she found a bruised and bandaged teenager, a seemingly pissed mother and a concerned father. She opened the door and walked out with the boys. The teenager flinched at the sight of the trio and his parents took one glance at their hands before placing his hands on the kid's shoulder.

Hope glanced between her boys and seemed to make the mental connection. His mother straightened up and looked Hope in the eye. " Mrs. Lupin, I hope you know that your three boys did this damage to my darling son, Charles, earlier today and I want to see some punishment. Go on Charlie, tell her what happened; they can't hurt you now."

As the kid began to open his mouth and Hope's hand twitched, Remus folded his arms by his chest and glared defiantly at the blonde haired boy; before the kid could even sputter a word, Remus said, with anger, malice and clear threat, " Yeah I won't hurt him now but if he lays another hand on Y/n I'll do the same thing again."

This set the two unsuspecting parents off gear and they looked at their son expectantly, before Hope turned and looked at Remus who stood unflinchingly examining his nails and picking dried blood out as James and Sirius stared at him. " So you did do this Remus child, and what do you mean by the earlier sentence?"

Said boy looked back up and re-folded his arms, " I meant, that if he'd just not forced my best friend Y/n into a kiss and touched her everywhere we wouldn't've done a thing to his precious little head." He said the sentence with malice, snide and cold-hearted fury as he stared the mother and father in their eyes.

They looked over at the other two boys before looking over to their son, who's head was hung in what appeared to be false shame. Hope turned over to Remus, hand on her mouth. " Charles, is what this boy saying true?" The teenagers head snapped back up and he scrambled over his tongue for words before his father stepped up, " I'm sorry Hope, if what your boy said is true then we should be the ones disciplining our child."

He rounded over on the boys, " Remus, I suggest you get that hand fixed up and next you see this Y/n child, tell her that we apologize for our son's misdemeanors. Have a good day." He placed a hand on his sons shoulder and started to steer him back to the direction of the walking path.

Hope turned on the three boys and gaped before closing her mouth and walking back inside the Lupin household. Sirius and James stared at her retreating form before sprinting up with Remus to catch her as she walked into the kitchen. " Wa- Wait so you're not mad at us or anything?!"

Hope simply brushed them off. " Why would I be mad? For all I know, you didn't do a thing wrong. Now go clean up your hands, Fleamont and Euphemia will be back soon and I don't intend for them to know I allowed you to be in a fight. Neither do I intend for your father to find out Remus."

The three quickly nodded their heads and walked back to Remus's bedroom where they found Y/n setting up on the bed. Remus locked eyes with Remus and he felt the need to ask about why she never told him sooner, just randomly appear. Sirius glanced at James with his eyes and the two of them backed out of the room and to the hall, closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

Y/n noted the sodden expression on Remus's face and opened her arms for him. The boy, welcome to lay in her arms, quickly strode over to where the girl lay and kicked off his shoes, opened the blanket and crawled into the bed beside Y/n. Although sooner than later he found his head buried in the girls chest, arms wrapped around her waist and legs tangled with hers as she threaded her fingers through his hair gently humming; Remus carful not to hurt her hips from earlier.

He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, peacefully listening to her hums and the gently beat of her heart. " What's got you down Remus?"

The boys voice came out muffled from her chest and goosebumps spread across her skin at the feeling of his breath on it,

" you... I'm wondering what I did wrong."

Y/n sat up a bit straighter and moved back against the beds board where Remus sat next her. " What do you mean? You never did anything wrong..." The boy closed his eyes and leaned his head back, sighing. " Y/n, I want to know- I know you probably just didn't say anything because I never asked but, did you not trust me enough to tell me about your parents earlier on? Because I feel like I did something wrong Y/n."

The girl's pupils diluted slightly at the boy's words. Yet, she turned and placed an arm around his shoulder, pulled him into her body and winced slightly but unnoticeably. " You think you did something wrong because I didn't tell you before I told the others?"

He nodded his head against her shoulder.

" Remus, you have to understand something. I never even wanted to tell any of you. If it were up to me, none of you would've figured out. And the only reason Peter and James knew before you, is because they found me and asked questions, the only reason Sirius found out is because he figured it out on his own. The only reason I never thought to tell you, is because I didn't know how you would react. I mean, logically, I thought you would either treat me sympathetically and I didn't want that; that you might be pissed about it, and I didn't want to be yelled at by you; or that you might get even more stressed at night, which I really didn't want. I care about you Rem, that's the only reason I never told you earlier. Please, don't feel like it's your fault Remus. You've been perfect the entire time I've known you..." ____________________________

Remus was worried to say the least. Y/n went in the bathroom to 'take a shower' but the water was off for what seemed too long and she had been in there for longer than normal. She had also went and 'talked' to his elder sister earlier that day after they'd gotten back but his sister wasn't at home at that time and when he went to remind her of that he had found her coming back out of her bedroom, face slightly paler than normal.

Y/n had also been, rather fidgety and much quieter since the incident by the park. He was worried. Y/n had attempted suicide twice before and James found her the first time, which was when she had tried to drown herself; Remus and Sirius both found her the second time by the astronomy tower. He wondered wether or not she was suicidal again which only made him worry worse. Five minutes. If she's not out in five minutes I'm knocking on the door and if she doesn't respond I'm unlocking it.

Soon, he found himself replacing his book on the table and knocking on the bathroom door lightly for Y/n. " Y/n? You're still in there right?"

No response.

" Y/n goddamn M/n L/n, if you are still alive and breathing open up this door right now!"

He said it loud enough for her to receive the message but not loud enough to wake anyone. He waited a few moments with baited breath and didn't hear a sound other than his breathing. Before a shaky hand came and unlocked the door from under him.

Trigger warning

Remus quickly turned the knob and pulled the door open, afraid of what he might see once opened.

He came to see Y/n on the floor with a rag over her bloody arm and a pocketknife in the other. The boy dropped to his knees immediately and went under the sinks cabinet for hydrogen peroxide and more of the scar relief gel before pulling back and coming into a kneel. Okay brain, let's just try to pretend she's wearing a shirt and not just in a bra and pants.

Remus pulled Y/n's body and leaned her against the inside of his propped up knee before he shakily pulled the sticky red rag off of her arm and threw it into the sink. Next he picked the girl up and put her on the sink, pulling her arm under the water and gently brushing off the dried and wet blood with his thumb and pouring hydrogen peroxide over it until it was stopped enough for him to pat her arm dry with a rag.

He next pulled out gauze pads, medical tape and the scar tissue gel; Remus gently looked up into the eyes of Y/n L/n and saw silent tears falling down her cheeks. The boy reached his hand up on cupped her face, wiping the tears with the pad of his thumb before pulling her body into his, her head in the crook of his shoulder as she sobbed out her heart's content. Remus moved his arm around her recently bloody one and wrapped his arms around her frame in a hug. The sobbing girl clutched his shirts fabric with her open hand and he could just hear her say, 'I'm sorry' out of her sobbing.

Remus just continued to rub circles on her back and attempt to ignore the feeling of her bare skin under his hand while whispering condolences to the girl. " Love, it's gonna be okay... it's gonna be okay love just listen to my voice. Just listen to my voice."

Remus blamed himself for not knowing this would happen yet again. If Y/n was forced into a kiss or anything sexual, it would trigger her PTSD, and if that gets triggered; she does this. Why did I not see this beforehand again?

He pulled out of the enveloped a few seconds later and Y/n looked back up at him, sorrow in her eyes. " Hey, N/n, look at me. We're gonna fix this arm up, then we're going to sit on my bed and talk and just lay down together okay?" The girl smiled feebly and nodded, Remus smiled lightly at her before gently handling her arm and frowning. As he went onto wrapping and cleaning the six fresh cuts on her arm the boy had to clench his teeth in anger.

He could see all of her past scars and bruises, turns out Y/n had a lot more bruises and scars then she let on and it positively killed Remus to know that someone had made her that way; done those things to his love. And, she had never shown the boys her hips when they asked to see the bruise earlier either and he had all sights to it now.

When he'd finished, he finally looked up and into her eyes before jumping slightly when she entwined their fingers and squeezed them a bit. Remus squeezed back lightly and went to grab his bruising stuff from under the sink as well before pulling back up and moving to the girl again. She saw what he had grabbed and went to move over so he could see the bruise on her hip better. Remus, yet again, gently placed his hands on her waist and thighs and moved her over a bit more. ____________________________

Once Remus had finished, he moved over and replaced everything to their respective places and moved back over to face the waiting girl.

Y/n looked up into his eyes again and bit her lip, oh those big, wide, beautiful, glistening innocent looking eyes and that lip; Oh I could just-

" Can I wear your shirt Remus?"

It suddenly occurred to him again that she was only wearing a bra and leggings and there was a rather odd feeling in the mid region of Remus's midsection that, yet again, he felt Sirius would know more about. He suddenly snapped back into attention and pulled the shirt off of his back, handing it to Y/n. She took it from his hands and faltered when going to pull it over her head. " Remus- can you help me move my arm through the sleeve without, y'know, opening up the-"

Remus cut the girl off after sensing her discomfort with saying the obvious out loud. He nodded and looked at her again, pulling the shirt over her head and watched her put her un-damaged arm through the hole. " I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to do anything but-"

The boy cut her off again by placing his hand on her shoulder and looking her in the eye. " Y/n, look at me love." He placed his hand under the girls chin, making her look up at him. " I understand okay. I know you shouldn't've done anything like this but I know that it was because he reminded you of your step-dad and that scared you. It'll be okay..."

Remus leaned forward and placed a gently kiss on the girl's forehead, " it'll be okay Y/n."

She nodded and leaned her head onto the boy's shoulder, nuzzling her nose into his neck and inhaling his sweet smell. She closed her eyes for a moment and let her thoughts arouse her as Remus's hands wrapped around her thighs and waist and moved her up and out of the bathroom; over to his bed. The boy gently placed her down on his pillow and made sure she was alright and steady before he left to finish cleaning the bathroom.

Once he got back to her, he found her asleep. Remus gently turned off his lamp and crawled over beside the girl, holding her tight in his arms; careful not to wake her. The girl moved over to where her head was on his chest and her body was pressed upon his before she let out a quiet 'goodnight' and fell back asleep.

Remus waited before she was asleep again, whispered a silent 'goodnight love', and pressed his lips once again, onto her forehead before gently falling into his slumber.

Was Y/n really asleep though?

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