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sohcah-toa · 2 years

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.. just thinking about dressing up for diluc.. imagine he comes home from work and just wants to ~mingle~ but reader wants to try something new so they are like "I'll be out the bathroom in a min!" And they come out full on maid uniform calling him master?!?! BRAINROTTTTT AUUGGGH 🤤🤤🤤

Master Diluc | toa

w — nsfw, dom master diluc x afab reader, established relationship, modern au, table fuck, fingering, blowjob, slight cussing, minors dni

tip or donate at ko-fi

You've prepared everything. Candles on the table, a fancy meal, if everything goes according to plan tonight, you might be able to wear that. Diluc's been busy these past few days, you can see how tired he is and how stressed he's been. He always say that he needs something new, like everyday he lives the same day and it was getting too tiring for him.

You've searched and prepared a lot but this is the only thing you could do for now. Knowing you, Diluc would never expect something like that. You smile to yourself, excited but nervous.

"Honey, I'm home" he said, carrying food, as soon as he saw the table, he smiled "Sorry, I didn't know you were going to cook, I brought food"

You giggle a little "Oh it's alright, we can eat my cooking tomorrow morning, we'll heat it up" you grab what he was holding and prepare everything while he takes a warm shower.

You start getting nervous "Will this work?" you whisper to yourself, feeling your heart beat in your face. You've never done this before.

—

"How was work?" You asked, you were both eating, you two conversed and talked to each other about how the day went.

An hour later, you were both sitting on the sofa, just watching television when he suddenly pulled your waist closer to him. He leaned in and whispered "Want to go to bed?"

You knew exactly what he meant because he started rubbing your waist. You become nervous, thinking if you will continue the plan or not.

"What's the matter? Something wrong?" He stopped what he was doing and stared at you sincerely, worried. You shook your head no and stood up.

In a spur of the moment, you ran and yelled "I'll be right back real fast!" Diluc was dumbfounded but he waited anyway. A few minutes later, you came back in a full on maid outfit.

"Master Diluc? Sorry for making you wait" You bowed a little while giggling, it was so embarassing but you wanted to sway him off his feet.

Diluc's eyes widen, his face immediately became red. Staring at how short your dress was, how it embraces your chest, making it look bigger "Wow" he said, standing up and wrapping your waist with both his hands, pulling you close to him "Beautiful"

You hugged him back and laughed "Did I surprise you?" he stared on your face and kissed you deeply, pulling your hips even closer to his.

"Yes" he pulled back a little just to say it and continued the kiss. Not long after, it became intense, he inserted his tongue and caressed your ass, slightly pulling the dress up but not fully "What I might do, might surprise you too"

You hear your heart beating and your body getting super hot "D-Diluc" he inserted his hand under the dress and pulled your underwear down. You felt the coldness on your vagina, making you even wetter.

His mouth not leaving your lips, kissing and biting it from time to time, not letting you breathe. He needed this, he needed you. His grips on your body became tighter, letting himself get drunk by your scent.

You start squirming, with him inserting his fingers on your hole, you couldn't help it. He pushed you backwards as his fingers go deeper inside your pussy, your ass touching the table. His face never away from your face even if you moan.

He made you sit on the table, carrying you above it and spreading your legs, your slick flowing on your thighs. He walked back a little to stare at your full body "You're really getting it tonight" with a smile he walked near you again and cupped your breasts, he stared at your cleavage "Beautiful" then started licking above it. He played with your chest while licking it.

Everything felt so hot and cold at the same time, you stroked his red locks pushing him deeper in your chest. Your leg hugging his waist so you could feel anything on your bare vagina. You start humping on him, feeling his erection above his pants.

You sit properly, making him stop and lean back. You hop on the table and start removing his clothes. He he chuckled "My girl can't wait huh? All right" he let you do all the work.

You kneeled right in front of him, holding his massive erect cock on your hand, you stared at him before saying "Can I, master?"

Diluc decided to play along with your little shenanigan and said "Go ahead, please your master" you stroked it, just by that and he was already intoxicated.

He immediately held on to your head, you start sucking it, licking it while it goes in and out of your mouth. You did the same thing over and over again until he was the one moving his own hips as his dick goes in and out of your warm mouth.

You feel the tip of his cock on your throat making you gag, a mix of saliva and pre cum flowing down on your cleavage. A second later, he made you stand up and sit on the table again, spreading your legs and quickly inserting a finger inside your pussy, making you squeal.

"D-Diluc! Oh sh—it" You accidentally shout, your eyes rolling upwards. Your moans were uncontrollable because he went at a fast pace as soon as his finger went in "A-ah! Diluc!" you held onto his arms full of veins as he inserted another finger. He kissed your cheeks then on your neck, adding more pleasure.

"I can't be the only one feeling good" He whispered, tickling your neck. You were losing your mind, his pace was the same as before, not even slowing down as you reach your climax.

You try to talk properly but only moans come out. You gripped onto his arm so tight that you start pinching it from all the pleasure.

You start shivering, squirming all around feeling your high "D—iluc" you were breathing so hard. He then removed his fingers inside you, your slick covered his hand, flowing down. He stared at you, how messy you were at the moment and licked his own fingers.

"Can't finish without your master" he said, you panted, catching your breath as you lay yourself down on the table, covering your face "Tired?"

You nodded, still catching your breath "N-No" he held onto your thighs and pulled it closer to his waist, wrapping it around him. He rubbed his dick on your clit making you sit right back up. You saw what he was doing and moaned slightly, falling into his torso. He was holding your dress up so it wouldn't interfere with what he was doing.

He kissed your neck again and then kissed you "You ready for the real thing?" he couldn't stop kissing you all over, from your lips to the cheeks to the nose then the neck.

You nodded. Before inserting his length in you, he pulled your tube down, revealing your erect nipples, you felt cold. He then said "I like watching them bounce whenever I fuck you"

You swear to God your face was redder than an apple but you don't want to be beaten by your own game. You started this whole thing, although surprised by how aggressive he was tonight, you tried to come up with something he would never expect "Go on and fuck me master" you reply and in an instant his whole length was inside you, causing you to moan loudly as he thrusts and pounds inside of you.

"That turns me on" Diluc whispered, continuing to pound inside you, slapping your right breast "Repeat what you said"

With the uncontrollable moans, you tried your best to even speak "Go on and fu—ck me master" he went even deeper, his balls hitting your ass. In a moment you were screaming, begging him to never stop and to go faster, deeper. You've lost your mind. Your leg hugging his hips so he could go even deeper.

Diluc's grunts became heavier, watching your breasts bounce whenever he pounds inside of you is his motivation to go even deeper and faster. He stared at your whole body, how the maid outfit tickles his stomach, how tight your embrace is on his neck, hearing you moan and beg loudly. Everything was just perfect.

The table started moving and making sounds, along with the both of you. He laid you down gently and spread your legs before continuing his pounding.

"I-m cumming!!" You yelled out, forcing your legs to close but he was holding it. You gripped on the table sides, feeling your high.

You were both sweaty and breathing heavily. Everything felt so hot and sexy. His start to rub your clit while fucking your insides, he loved how you looked tonight "Cum with — me" his head bent upwards, feeling his own climax.

You screamed and came. With one final thrust, he did too. You feel so weak and your legs were shivering. He carefully removed his cock and pumped it up and down, cum spilling on your outfit as you lay down on the table.

You sat up and felt something drip on your legs, Diluc helped you down on the table "I love you, thank you" he said as he pulles the tube up to your breasts, covering it "Want to get cleaned up and sleep?"

"Yeaah" You nodded, chuckling "Did you love it?"

He laughed while you both go in the bathroom "Isn't it obvious?" you took your outfit off and you both showered, letting him wash your hair and your body, vice versa.

The day ended with the both of you, arm in arm in your bed. Sleeping peacefully.

The End ♡

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc smut #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #diluc scenarios #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x you #diluc #maid outfit #maid dress

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snowdrop-yoongi · 4 years

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it’s disability pride month and i need help

hi everybody! july is disability pride month, which is really cool!

i am a mentally and physically disabled 22-year-old who is currently reliant on my abusive parents for healthcare, housing, and living expenses, which is not so cool! (click the link to read more about my disabilities & what i’m doing about them.)

things have been precarious for a while but unfortunately tonight (july 6th, 2020) my recently-returned-to-being-an-alcoholic father got drunk and tried to kick me out. he did not succeed, but since his alcoholism has been progressively worsening along with his abusive tendencies, i’m obviously feeling very unsafe in my living situation.

right now, i’m trying to avoid being put in an emergency situation where i am kicked out without any back-up plan or sufficient back-up funds. while i do have a little bit of money saved up, i don’t have enough to cover long-term living expenses or ongoing healthcare expenses (without medication and regular treatments i am SERIOUSLY screwed; even missing just one day of my daily IV treatments is enough to incapacitate me for the following day). ideally i’d also like enough to cover a new phone or laptop to communicate with friends, doctors, and my therapist if my parents confiscate my electronics, as they have done before.

to be honest i don’t know how or if i will manage to live on my own if i am kicked out, but i would REALLY REALLY REALLY like to know that i won’t be completely shitfucked right from the starting line.

i know we’re in the midst of a global pandemic and everyone is struggling a lot, but i’m not a very big blog and disability issues rarely get much attention, so i’m making this post while i can. it’s okay if you can’t afford to help me out financially; it would still help to reblog this post. one of the scariest things about living in this situation is feeling like no one can see me so, please, if you can do nothing else, please see me.

my paypal is paypal.me/arinitea and venmo is @arinbee! i also have a ko-fi, but it does take about $0.50 from each $3 donation. while i deeply appreciate everyone who wants to help, please DON’T donate if you cannot afford to do so safely!

i can’t offer very much but i would be DELIGHTED to send pics of my cats to anyone who donates. i will also likely be opening commissions when i am able, and you can check back here for updates.

EDIT: a wonderful and talented friend of mine is offering commissions in exchange for donations. you can find her post here!

my cats and i thank you for reading this far ❤️

#disability #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #ehlers danlos syndrome #fibromyalgia #disability problems #disability help #pots #eds #personal

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otptings · 3 years

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One More Night

⌦Idol: Johnny Suh

⌦Requested: Yesss One More Night by Maroon 5 angst-smut with johnny? 🥺 thank youuuuu

⌦Genre: Song Fic, Toxic Relationship, Angry Sex (18+)

⌦Word Count: 2.1k+

⌦this is in no way supposed to glorify toxic relationships, it was purely written based around the long lyrics of One More Night by Maroon 5, if your significant other is cheating on you or if you are in a toxic relationship please leave it. it is better for you in the end, I am speaking from personal experience.

⌦Warnings: toxic!Johnny, toxic!reader, toxic!relationship, drunk sex, marking, mentions of cheating, short arguing (not enough experience writing it), oral (f receiving), degradation mixed with praise, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, cream pie, cock warming

⌦Synopsis: There you go again making me love, I stop using my head and let it go. So I cross my heart and I hope to die, I only want stay with you one more night.

⌦A/n: I totally forgot about this song so thank you and for requesting this. Once more if you are in a. toxic or abusive relationship I promise you it is better to just leave then deal with that toxic energy. please be smart when it comes to your relationships. if you liked this please reblog, like, or donate to my Ko-fi in my bio. requests are open for NCT, SVT, and Treasure. Thank you so much and hope you enjoy

Just another night in the Suh household.

You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through Instagram when you heard the signs of someone fumbling with the lock. More like the sound of keys scrambling to find the lock, after a couple of minutes you heard the lock click. There was no use looking up, only one person had a key.

“You’re still up.” You didn’t have to turn around to know what he was doing. The sound of his keys hitting the bowl on the table, shuffling as he kicks off his shoes, not bothering to place them along the wall or on the rack properly before he makes his way over to your spot. “I told you I’d be home late. You didn’t have to wait for me.” Leaning down he placed a kiss on your cheek, instinctively scrunching your nose up from the smell of alcohol that was flowing off of him in.

“You never told me where you were. I got worried.” You scoffed at Johnny’s hum in response, brushing off your statement completely as he walked towards the couch.

“I was at work.” Typical statement. Typical bullshit response.

Standing up you followed him, purposefully ignoring the groan he let out at you. He continued pouring himself a cup of water, only turning around to you afterward with his eyebrow cocked.

“Just be honest with me, if you're cheating I can leave."

“Here we fucking go.”

“What? Aw, is my accusation of you cheating too much to bear? Cry me a fucking river Johnny.” Johnny slammed the cup onto the counter, causing some of the water to splash up over the sides. “I called Taeyong. He told me that you left shortly after Taeil at 12 am. It’s fucking 4 am so where the hell where you? Can you just tell me the fucking truth, I already know you’re cheating.”

Same old routine. You accuse him of cheating, something that you weren’t even positive about, he gets angry and proceeds to pin you to the counter. Like he’s doing right now, hands holding onto your waist while his body physically cages you in.

“If you want me to leave I will. I’d rather you just admit it instead of hiding it.” This always got you to shut up, nervous that you might’ve taken it too far. No matter how much you argued there was a fear that one day it would end, he would just walk out and not come back. Today wasn’t that day, if the way he gently holds your chin to force you into making eye contact. The anger that seemed to be simmering behind the calm facade he had on did little to quell your nerves.

“If I was cheating on you, I wouldn’t even bother coming home.” Here comes your favorite part, Johnny walking away from you as he heads towards the bedroom. There was no reason for him to glance over his shoulder to see if you were falling, you’d done this dance a million times before.

“It’s 4 am. Wish you would’ve just stayed gone then come back home.” That always got his attention. No matter how calm he pretended to be, that was surely the thing to make him snap. It’s kinda funny, just how quickly he pins you against the door, physically restraining your wrists above your head. Even in moments like this the old Johnny still shines through in the way that his grip is loose on you. If you truly wanted to break free from him, he would let you.

Despite knowing that you never fought him, maybe it was how close he came to you, so close that you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips and you could see the way that his pupils dilated.

“You shouldn’t have come back.” Johnny cold laugh forced you to look away from him. That only gave him another reason to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. When your eyes met his, something melted inside of both of you. If the way his grip on you loosened even more to the point where his fingers were only loosely framing your wrists were anything to go by.

“This is my house. You’re always free to leave.” You wanted to leave. Something inside of you was constantly telling you to just pack your bags. There were plenty of people who had offered you a place to stay after you only venting about your relationship for 10 problems, but looking into his eyes, seeing the anger bleed out and feeling the tension run out of your body, why would you ever want to leave?

Maybe that’s why the argument always ends in the same way. In a kiss. An awful kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.

No sooner had all of the anger bled out the two of you then Johnny was pulling you into a kiss. Teeth clashing almost playfully, too much tongue to be deemed a proper kiss, too messy by the amount of spit running over your lips, but it was still too perfect for your relationship. You truly don’t know how Johnny got you onto the bed so quickly, and you didn’t even remember him taking off your clothes but here you were, hands finally able to touch Johnny thanks to him no longer restricting him and fingers wrapped around strands of his hair as he continued to steal the breath out of your lungs. After a painful nip to your bottom lip, followed by another sweet kiss as an apology he was sucking bruises onto your neck.

They were entirely too high, and you would definitely have to do the walk of shame plast your coworkers in order to get to your dress but the feeling of his teeth scraping over your neck, and the feeling of his tongue swiping over the fresh bitemarks adorning your neck was too good for you to ask him to stop. After he deemed you properly marked, his kisses started trailing down your body, nipping at the smooth flesh of your stomach before he was at his destination between your thighs.

He wasted no time when he was faced with your soaked cunt, placing a kiss on your clit that made you throw your head back. The first lick made you tense up, a tentative one just over your lips, the second one made your whole body relax as he separated your lips, getting a taste of your arousal. He groaned, knowing that no one would ever taste as good as you before he got to work, tongue fucking you with occasional flicks to your clits, sometimes taking a break to suck on your clit like a lollipop causing you to cry out from the pleasure. Johnny may have been changing, but his love for making you cry hadn’t. His ministration didn’t stop until you were clenching around his tongue, pulling his hair did nothing to stop, only encouraging him.

When your first orgasm hit you all thoughts of the argument were completely out of your mind. The only thing you could think about was Johnny, but the night was over. You may have dropped the argument but Johnny was still seething, if the way that he quickly flipped you over and pulled your hips up, forcing you to get on all fours was anything to go by.

Johnny’s view was something that he couldn’t even imagine. Your back perfectly arched giving him a perfect view of both of your holes. He couldn’t fight his temptation, leaning down to lick a broad stripe over your asshole, savoring the loud moan that you let out before your pleading started. A mix of ‘please’, ‘Johnny’, and ‘just put your cock in me, I need you’.

Stroking his cock a few times, just until it was at full hardness he rubbed the tip over your hole, watching in awe at how quickly your arousal covered his head before pushing inside of you. One shuttering breath as Johnny tried to control himself before you were already fucking yourself back on him, begging him to move already. Johnny was more than happy to oblige, if the way that he gripped your hips before brutally fucking into you was anything to go by. There weren’t many sounds in the room, Johnny’s groans every time your pussy squeezed around him, attempting to pull an early orgasm out of him, skin hitting skin as his hips your ass, surely leaving both his pelvis bright red after this but he couldn’t care less, and the sounds of your cries. Tears leaving your mouth from the overwhelming pleasure that was overtaking you as you weakly grabbed at the sheets.

“Why would I want anyone else when I have needy slut waiting for me back home?” Johnny always knew the perfect things to say, that’s why you weren’t ashamed to say that just him calling you a needy slut caused your eyes to roll back as your second orgasm hit you. The chuckle that Johnny let out should’ve made you feel disgusting, but with the way that his cock was still dragging against your walls that were still quivering from your orgasm all you could do was squeeze your eyes tight as more tears fell from your eyes, surely soaking the pillow that you shoved your face into. “You okay baby?”

Despite the anger still coursing through Johnny’s vein he still didn’t want to actually hurt you, he only ever wanted you crying out from pleasure. Just on schedule after your second orgasm Johnny pulled out and helped you lay on your back, he knew you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up much longer by the way that your legs shook. And now? Seeing your tear filled cheeks, and your swollen lips? Johnny really knew that there was no one else for him. Grabbing your legs and placing them around his waist he easily slipped back in, cupping you cheek soothingly as you let out a whimper from oversensitivity.

Maybe that’s why Johnny was always out late, finding someone that could actually keep with him in bed.

He seemed to sense your thoughts because he placed a kiss on both of your cheeks before starting up his slow strokes. You rarely did missionary outside of arguments, but being able to look up at him as his cock hit deeper in you, rubbing over your g spot with every well aimed and timed stroke was something that was worth arguing for. Wrapping your arms around his neck you pulled him down closer so that you were chest to chest, kissing at this point wouldn’t even be worth it, all the two of you could manage was to breathe into eachothers mouths.

“You always take me so well, pretty.” Rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip you eagerly wrapped your lips around it, running your tongue over the pad of his thigh, feeling proud in the way that you could feel his cock twitch inside of you.

“Still so tight, no matter how much I fuck you.” Johnny was purely chasing his orgasm now, grabbing both of your legs and practically bending you in half as his thrusts sped up, along with his dirty talk. “My little slut.”

His thrusts were quickly pushing you towards a third orgasm, but he knew that already by then your mouth dropped open and you started letting out moans again. There would surely be a noise complaint tomorrow, but for now all he wanted was to make both of you cum. Removing his spit covered thumb he slid it down to your clit before covering your mouth with his, swallowing all of your moans as he quickly rubbed your clit. Your third orgasm hit you the hardest due to the way Johnny was desperately kissing you while rubbing circles over your swollen clit. He finally came as your walls seized around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him. Johnny continued to fuck you through your orgasms, stopping only when overstimulation finally started to hit.

It took everything in him not to just lay down on top of you, but he only got as far as to turn the both of you to the side. He didn’t even bother pulling out, just rubbing soothing shapes into your back as you both caught your breath.

“Why do we keep doing this?” Your voice broke the silence, shaky in the way that Johnny knew you were going to cry again. “Why don’t we just end this? We’re dragging it on too long.” Sighing Johnny placed a kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer to his chest.

“I don’t want to see you with anyone else. I won’t be made if you leave. I deserve it.”

“I’m only staying one more night.”

#kpopcatalog #nct 127 #nct #Johnny suh #nct 127 Johnny suh #nct imagines #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #idol x reader #toxic!johnny #toxic!relationship

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

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Play with me [Billy Russo x Reader] - Requested [15+]

Title: Play with me Pairing: Billy Russo x Female!Reader Word count: 3.3k Published: 13 June 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: There's no smut in it, but it is quite suggestive so I think it deserves the 15+ rating. Warnings: Suggestive phrases, mention of alcohol and drinking Summary: Once again you find yourself dragged to a fancy event as part of your work by none other than Billy himself. Your boss seems to be enjoying your discomfort, finding entertainment in your grimaces and sulking comebacks. That is until you decide to turn his little game against him. Request: [x] Prompts requested by @sunrisefairy for my celebration event.

Billy Russo x Reader Fluff #19 - “It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.” Spicy #20 - “Are you flirting with me?” Spicy #39 - “I’m a little drunk and a little horny.”

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You've never been big on attending all those fancy events your company has been hired to work at, but Billy always said it was a good way to build connections. Not once have you found yourself in a pretty little ballgown, following your boss around with a stone-cold expression, silently trying to suffocate him with your murderous gaze. You were hired to be a security agent not a peacock, but Billy didn't seem to mind the invisible daggers your eyes shot at him, if anything, by the smug grin across his face, he appeared to be enjoying the situation.

Just like many times before, this event was organised by one of his clients as well and he had been invited, along with a plus one to your utter disappointment. Though it sounded like you were supposed to be guests, in the end the man made it clear that he wanted Billy to have his back and his people to be blended in the crowd. Therefore, most of the night, you and Billy have been following around the old man, some no name politician you couldn't even recognise with his wife on his arm, smiling like a wild beast.

"You know, if you think about it, this could be our first date," Billy smirked as his eyes scanned the room. "It's like a grand double date," he smirked, earning an annoyed huff from you.

"It's not a double date, I wouldn't even go out with you if you were the last person on this planet," you groaned. "We are just— third and fourth wheeling for the sole purpose of their security," you nodded towards the couple in front of you.

"If denial makes your sensitive little heart feel better about your attraction towards me, who am I to object," he chuckled. "Though I have to admit, that silk dress on you makes it very hard for me to focus," he scanned your body, his gaze studying every single inch as though he could see through the thin material. His eyes dwelled longer on the high cut design that ran up to the top of your thigh, exposing your bare legs. His intent gaze burned your skin, your ears feeling as though they were on fire before realisation hit you.

"Hold on a minute, are you flirting with me?" You asked incredulously.

"As smart as you are, I'm surprised it took you this long to realise," he replied with his smug grin growing wider.

"Wipe it off," you scoffed at him as he grabbed your arm, rougher than you expected and linked it with his, patting the back of your hand. You walked around the ballroom with him on your side as he shook hands with all kinds of men, each seemingly interested in every breath Billy took, almost as though he was more important than the old man in front of you.

"Why? If it wasn't for your distaste in all these events, you'd be drooling over me by now," he chuckled playfully, offering you a subtle wink, before he turned back to the sea of people with his head held high, his body straightening in an authoritative manner.

"You are delusional," you hissed, teeth gritting in frustration.

"Right, I guess you just love staring at me then. Though I'm not surprised, I'm certainly good to look at," he huffed.

"No and No," you scoffed with a grimace. "And remove that shit-eating grin from your face already," you retorted as Billy clicked his tongue.

"Pretty lips, but such a dirty mouth," he let out a low, throaty laugh as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through your body. "You know, I have a couple of ideas what you could use that mouth for," he replied in a suggestive tone, arching a single brow as he pulled back.

"Oh, do you now?" You offered him a playful smile as your eyes looked him up and down before your gaze met his again. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not interested," you shook your head, trying to act as though his offer didn't affect you, as though his body so close to you didn't force your heart into a dangerous pace. Though mostly you found it easy to ignore his teasing, you had to admit a part of you was indeed inclined to know more about where his mind was wandering off to.

"Ouch," he placed a hand in front of his chest, acting as if he was indeed in pain before he rearranged himself. "Your loss, I guess," he shrugged nonchalantly, earning an annoyed eye roll from you.

As the night went on, you tried to ignore the music in the background and focus on your work. Your eyes scanned the gigantic room as you shimmied through the sea of people dancing in pairs whilst Billy followed right behind you, clearing his throat. Looking back over your shoulder, you realised his eyes weren't on the people surrounding you or establishing eye contact with the rest of the team. His gaze fell lower, lower than you expected.

"Do you like the view?" You asked, arching a brow as he finally stopped staring at your backside and lifted his gaze, running his tongue across his bottom lip.

"What can I say that dress seems to enhance your beauty in all the right places," he smirked, earning a scoff from you. "Hey, can't I compliment you?" He raised his hands innocently, but you didn't fall for it, his proud grin spread wider as he ran his eyes all over you again.

"Pig," you spat as you finally reached the end of the crowd and stole a glass of champagne from a tray one of the servers walked around with.

"You are not supposed to be drinking," he gave you a cold look.

"I can't handle you sober," you chugged the content of the glass in a swift movement, earning a loud huff from him.

"That's not very professional," he replied as he stepped closer and placed a hand on your waist, tugging you closer in his side.

"Well, screw professionalism," you huffed as you felt the alcohol hit you. It was already warm inside, but with the alcohol, you felt your cheeks flush. Your eyes wandered to your side, where his big palm cupped your side, his touch radiating further warmth into your already heated body. "Is it just me—," you asked as you met his gaze, "or your hand seems to wander way too carelessly on my body tonight," you squinted suspiciously.

"I'm just making sure you are safe," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'm not the client, you know that, right?" you huffed as you grabbed his hand, took it off your waist and walked towards another room, searching for the old man, before you heard a voice in your earpiece, letting you know about his whereabouts. Heading to his position, you felt Billy's presence right behind you again. You halted your steps and turned around, folding your arms in front of your chest.

"You were not supposed to be drinking," he repeated himself with a stern expression across his face, one that told you this time he wasn't playing around, he was indeed unhappy with you. But instead of apologising or acknowledging his presence for that matter, you simply ignored him and looked around the room. "Do you even realise that I'm your boss?" He frowned, looking at you with a questioning gaze. "I feel like I have been way too lenient with you," he groaned as you stared him down. You caught sight of a waiter heading your way, so you quickly snatched another glass from his tray and gulped down the champagne.

"So? What are you going to do about it?" You asked in a mocking tone, smirking at the man as he chewed on his bottom lip. The words escaped your vocal cords before you could even protest. In normal circumstances you would have never dared to say them out loud, but the alcohol in your system, the two glasses of champagne seemed to do the trick. As you weren't big on drinking and barely had any alcohol, it hit you harder than someone who was used to its strength.

"I could fire you in this instance," he hissed, his tone low and warning. You took a step towards him, barely leaving a couple of inches between you as you looked up at him.

"Then why don't you?" You asked, arching a brow, waiting for a reply. "Come on, why don't you, huh?" You taunted him. "What did you expect? That I'm going to beg you to let me keep my job? Humour me, Russo," you huffed, this time wearing the same shit-eating grin he wore before.

"You are playing with fire," he spoke through gritted teeth as he sneaked an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, forcing you to lift your head higher to be able to look up at him. "I don't appreciate that tone," he continued in a low, dark voice, one that made your knees buckle, the air stuck in your lungs. "If you want to get my attention, then you can stop, you have had it for a while," he growled as he brushed his lips against your earlobe, his breath fanning the sensitive skin behind your ear. "But if it's for the sole purpose of pissing me off, I advise you to cut the bullshit, because I don't like your stupid little game," he squeezed your side as he pulled back, his jaw clenched.

To be fair, you weren't sure why you were taunting him, but there was something about him when he was frustrated, when you knew he was just a push away from snapping. You never dared to cross that line, nor did you want to do it now, but that borderline dangerous look in his eyes made you feel weak, his strong arm around you rough and warning, still you couldn't stop yourself from poking the sleeping lion. "So, you can play with me, but I can't do the same? Don't you think that's hypocritical?" You scoffed, folding your arms in front of your chest, creating even more space between you. There was a moment of silence as Billy studied your face, trying to decide if you were serious or you had gone completely mental.

"You are drunk, you are not making any sense," he scoffed as he got hold of your arm and started dragging you towards a closed door. As he opened it, you found yourself in some sort of a lounge with a sofa on the opposite wall of the room, an armchair on each side and a small coffee table right in front of it. The dim light and empty room created a rather welcoming feeling after the loud ballroom. "Sit down and take a minute for yourself, I will be back in a second. Hopefully by then you will make more sense," he threw the words at you as he left and closed the door behind himself.

You didn't attempt to take a seat and lounge around, you didn't want to sit down and do nothing, though the slight dizziness you felt urged you to do so. For a second you debated if you should listen to your instincts and indeed rest your tired limbs, but you shook yourself out of the thought and instead wandered around the room, looking at the paintings on the wall. Each art was of the same man— the one you were supposed to be protecting— wearing the finest of clothing you have ever seen. Rich folks, you scoffed at the thought, but before you could have dwelled on them any longer, the door opened. Without looking over your shoulder, Billy's cologne filled your nostrils. "Did you come back to police me?" You said without turning to look at him.

"It seems I didn't give you enough time to clear your head," he mused.

"My head is completely clear," you shot back at him, stumbling a bit as you felt slightly lightheaded. He stood in front of the closed door, hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers as he casually leaned against the wooden panels.

"I can see that," he scoffed, this time with a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth, running his eyes up and down on your body, his gaze darkening.

"I'm not drunk," you pointed at his chest as you walked up to him in haste, halting your steps right in front of him, leaving a barely visible gap between the two of you, feeling the heat radiate from his body.

"And I believe that," he replied in a mocking tone. "Though it leaves me with a question. It seemed you had some difficulty standing on your own two feet just a minute ago. What was that about that then?" His smug grin grew wider, knowing he was right. Indeed, there were some side effects to the alcohol you have consumed.

"Fine," you replied, jaw clenched in anger, teeth gritting as you held yourself back. "I'm— I might be— a little drunk," you cleared your throat as though admitting it caused you physical pain.

"Okay, now we are getting somewhere," he said as he lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips along the curve of your shoulder, slowly following the path down to your wrist. "So, why did you drink then?" He asked, with a slight amount of curiosity.

"You pissed me off," you shrugged nonchalantly, earning a chuckle from Billy as he kept repeating his movements, running his fingers along your arm, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin, which he did not miss.

"That's not very professional, is it?" He asked, teasing you as his strokes moved from your shoulder to your collarbone, forcing your breath to turn shallow. He lifted his eyes, meeting your lustful gaze, only to caress his ego further. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you are not only drunk, but that smart little head of yours might just be filled with some very— very dirty thoughts," he chuckled as you swallowed nervously, his palm cupping your face, running his thumb along your lip.

He wasn't wrong though. There were thoughts that you wished never to voice, thoughts that had him standing in front of you naked, completely exposed, your hands running across his toned chest, his mouth nipping at the soft skin of your neck. You licked across your lips as the thought became even more vivid, his grumbling tone forcing you to draw your thighs together, needing some sort of a friction. He arched a brow at the movement, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "It seems I'm right once again and you are not even trying to deny it," he breathed as he planted his other hand on your waist and drew you closer. "Tell me, where is that pretty head of yours wondering to?" He let out a low chuckle, but you didn't answer, you didn't dare to say it. "Let me guess," he leaned down to your ear, tickling your neck with his beard, causing a knot to appear in the pit of your stomach, your breathing turning ragged, "are you horny?" He let out a low chuckle as he bit your neck, earning a silent squeaking sound from you, his actions 'almost' sobering you up. 'Almost', because within seconds you find yourself leaning into his touch.

"I—," you tried to reply, but your throat seemed too dry, your heart was beating so heavily, you could hear the drumming of your own pulse in your ears. "I maybe— just maybe a little horny," you breathed as he ran his lips along the curve of your neck, forcing your eyes to flutter shut. Before you realised your own actions, you cupped his cheeks and pulled him away from your neck, pressing your lips to his, stunning him for a mere moment, before he returned your advances. The kiss was hungry, teeth tugging at lips, tongues fighting for dominance, but that was what you needed. You pressed your body against his, closing any remaining gap between the two of you, earning a low growl from Billy. He grabbed your hips, holding onto you as though he was trying to ground himself, keeping himself sober in the haste of that heated kiss.

"I think we should stop," he breathed as he finally found his strength to leave your lips. A deep frown spread across your brow as you studied him.

"Why?" You asked in confusion, knowing— feeling his body's reaction to you.

"Think whatever you want of me, I can be a lot of things, but I like to think that touching someone without their consent is wrong. I believe we have already done more than we were supposed to," he cleared his throat as he tried to push you back gently, but rather firmly and you obliged.

"I'm giving you consent, Russo," you replied in disbelief.

"You are drunk, so I'm not sure you are," he shook his head. A loud huff left your lungs as you walked up to the sofa and sat down, placing one leg over the other, crossing them as you sunk deeper into the cushions.

"Okay," you scoffed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I said I was a little drunk. You see little is the key word here," you tilted your head, hoping he would understand where you were going with this. "As you can see, I'm capable of talking, walking, thinking and I'm certainly not crawling on the floor, am I?" You arched a brow, watching his expression turn contemplating. "I will make this easy for you, Russo," you continued, your tone inviting. You lifted your leg from the other and spread them just enough, so the opening of your dress fell between your legs, the high cut design revealing your bare thighs. Seemingly it was enough of an encouragement for Billy to tense up and swallow visibly. "So, what's it going to be?" You asked as a mischievous smile grew wider across your face just as you slowly started closing your legs. Before he could even stop himself, he pounced on you, kneeling between your legs, stopping you from closing the gap as he pressed his lips against yours, ready to take you up on your offer.

His mouth attached to yours hungrily, grabbing your thighs as he pushed you further into the sofa. You busied yourself with his clothes and started untying his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, impatiently trying to pull the material out of his trousers. You threw his tie on the floor, soon followed by his shirt, before you pushed him down beside you and crawled into his lap, earning a groan from him. "You little beast," he grinned at you as he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down to meet him halfway in a heated kiss, his hands grabbing your ass, pulling you further down onto his lap, his kisses trailing down to your neck, leaving you panting, whispering his name in your half-clear state of mind.

"Just so you know, I still hate you," you breathed against the crook of his neck as you returned the satisfying attention he was giving you, nipping on the sensitive skin, earning you a throaty groan from him.

"Yeah, I can feel it," he chuckled as he bucked his hips, causing a gasp to erupt from your lungs. "Let's discuss that after you stop screaming my name in pleasure," he replied through gritted teeth as grabbed your hips and with a swift movement changed your position, throwing you on your back, hovering above you. He studied your dishevelled look with a smug grin across his face, before he pressed his lips to yours again, his hands exploring every part of your body that he didn't have the chance to before, forgetting about everything and anything about the ball on the other side of the safely locked door.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

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Taglist is in a reblog from now on.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x yn #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo one shot #battle of swords celebration event

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parkersroses · 3 years

Text

delicate. | harry styles.

summary: two lonely people find solace in each other for the night and something delicate blossoms from it.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

warning(s): fluff and smut (a first attempt at it)

a/n: aaah i’m excited and nervous to post this. i guess it’s considered a Christmas fic because it’s set around that time. i do hope you guys enjoy this! i also wanna wish you all happy holidays! side note, i recently made a ko-fi account, so if you’re able to and like my writing, feel free to donate to it! anyways, enjoy! reblogs/feedbacks are very much appreciated! all my love and stay safe <3 (disclaimer: the gif rightfully belongs to @hampsteadharry )

He pushed through the door of the bar, jazz music filling up his ears as he wandered to get a seat. He sighed as he sat on a bar stool, waiting for someone to attend to him and possibly give him the strongest drink here if he felt like it.

Harry felt tired. He’s been tired and exhausted for a while now. Tired from work. Tired from the glitz and glam. Tired of people getting close to him because of his name and status. Just mentally and physically exhausted. But that’s not to dismiss the fact that he still loves his job. He loves and enjoys making music and seeing his fans - who he declared as the best fans in the world - singing back his songs to him.

Though, there comes a time where he doesn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he should lately. Being a well-known singer, songwriter and actor seemed pretty cool but no one knows how tiring and raining it could be. Always having to prove yourself and explaining yourself because of ridiculous rumours that articles make up. Always ending up hurt when you found out your friends were using you because of how well-known you were.

So, he announced that he’d be taking a break from all that. Of course, there was an uproar from his fans but in the end, they understood and sent him lovely messages about having to keep his mental health his main priority.

So now, here he was, sitting at a bar, trying to drink away his emotions. Perhaps, he would find a girl that he could go home with to fill in the empty space of his bed for the night. His break was quite eye-opening to say the least. Harry realised how alone he felt. He thought it was just all in his head because how could he be lonely even when he still had few of his friends around? But he didn’t know that being alone and still feeling alone were different.

And the irony of it nearly being Christmas, there wasn’t much magic or cheer going around for him at the moment. He’ll have to get his shit together before going back to visit his family for the holidays.

“What can I get ya?” a voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts. A woman stood before him behind the bar, he realised it was one of the bartenders there. She wore a long sleeved black shirt, the sleeves rolled up until her elbows. Her long hair was tied up into a ponytail, strands of hair framing around her face. He thought she was pretty. Beautiful, he would say.

Bartender lady snapped her fingers at his face, knocking him out of his thoughts once again. “Seemed to be far away there. Are you sure you’re good here? In a bar?” She said and she smirked at Harry. He felt the blood rushed to his cheeks, having been caught staring at the pretty bartender lady.

“S-Sorry. A whiskey for now will do,” he said softly. Pretty bartender lady smiled at him and nodded. “Alright, then,” she said, heading off to get his drink.

Harry’s eyes followed her figure, almost like he was entranced by her. He was not sure why he did. Seconds later, she put his drink on a coaster in front of him. “Thanks,” he quietly said as he picked up his drink.

“Don’t mention it. You seemed like you need it,” she said almost knowingly. He chuckled at her words. Well, she got that right. “Yeah, just trying to clear my head a bit,” he shrugged at her.

Pretty bartender lady nodded. “Rough day?” She inquired. Harry raised an eyebrow at her question. He probably thought that she was trying to make a conversation other than cleaning shot glasses. He hesitated a little, thinking she might just be another fan and might spill whatever that comes out of his mouth to the nearest journalist. But then, he remembered that he’s already one drink down to probably getting drunk and his mind won’t really care even if he woke up hungover the next day.

So, he shrugged at her question. “Guess you could say that,” he said as he set down the empty shot glass. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a lot of things in my mind. And drinking does numb my emotions a bit. If that made sense,” he chose to say as he looked at her.

She only giggled at his words. “That sounds quite deep. Should write a song about it,” she joked and for a second, Harry thought she knew about him. Because for once, he’d like to talk to someone who’s unaware of his celebrity status. Someone who’d talked to him with a sense of normalcy. Instead of talking to the famous Harry Styles.

“Maybe I should. And I’ll credit you in it,” he joked. She laughed, throwing her head back as she did. “Oh gosh, I always wanted to be a famous songwriter,” she said dramatically. They both laughed at this. It was weird to Harry, this scene felt so normal, it felt as if he knew her for a while now.

She nodded at his empty glass. “Want another?” She asked. Harry thought about it before asking. “Actually, what’s your favourite drink?” Pretty bartender lady was surprised to say the least, but smiled at Harry. “Why?” He only smiled back. “‘Cause I want another drink. And I want to treat you one too. I’ll even pay for yours, love,”

She blushed at this, not expecting him to be so forward yet sweet. “Cheeky, aren’t you?” She said smiling at him, and she noticed a hint of blush on his cheeks. “My mum always taught me to be a gentleman,” he shrugged,

She chuckled at this. “Fine then. I’ll be right back,” she said, going to get whatever her favourite drink was for Harry. Harry smiled as she walked away. He couldn’t help but feel some sort of liking towards her, but not knowing why. Maybe because she was just a pretty bartender lady.

She returned later with two glasses of her ‘favourite drink’ and set them in front of him. Harry was skeptical to see the strange colour of liquid, raising an eyebrow at her. She only smiled and raised her glass up.

“Bottoms up,” she said as she drank from her glass.

Harry sniffed the drink a bit before thinking he was being silly and drank it. As the sweet taste hit his taste buds, he chuckled as he shook his head. “Apple juice? Really?” He questioned.

She laughed as she took another sip on her drink. “Well, you asked for my favourite drink and I gave it to you,” she said with a smirk in her face. “So, you don’t drink?” he asked curiously. She shrugged at him. “A bit sometimes. Just don’t prefer it unless I wanna get really drunk,” she let out a small laugh. Harry chuckled at her words, finding himself agreeing with her.

Harry noticed how pretty of a smile she had. He didn’t know why a tiny detail like that stuck out to him. He found himself quite intrigued with the pretty bartender lady, which he realised he had been calling her that in his head without knowing her name. He stared into her eyes and found himself hypnotized by them. Suddenly, it seemed like they were the only two people in the room. Okay, stop. She’ll think you’re weird.

It was as if his mind took control over him and he found himself asking her, “When do you get off?” He asked, his eyes widening after realising the words that came out of his mouth.

What the fuck!?, he thought.

She was surprised, her mouth agape as she processed what he had just asked. But she seemed to compose herself quickly. “And why do you wanna know?” She asked nervously.

Harry paused before choosing his next words carefully. “Because you seem really cool to talk too. And I’d like to talk to you more,” he said. He was nibbling on his bottom lip, a habit he had whenever he got nervous. He shrugged before he continued, “It’s nice to have a friend, you know?”

Pretty bartender lady - and Harry swore he’ll get her name soon - nodded at him and smiled. Like she knew what he meant. “I’ll be off at 10,” she said. It was only 30 minutes until then. Harry was initially surprised at this, not thinking whether she would agree to - whatever he wanted to with her later.

He nodded in response. “I’ll, uh, wait for you here, then,” he spoke nervously. She chuckled and took their glasses away so she could clean and attend to the other customers before her boss yelled at her.

As she walked away, Harry called out to her. “Wait!” She turned around, eyes wide when he called her. “Um, what’s your name?” He asked. She smiled as her heart melted at the innocent question.

“It’s Y/N,” she replied.

Harry nodded, a small timid smile appearing on his face. “I’m Harry,” he said.

She smiled and nodded at his short introduction. Now, the pretty guy with forest green eyes had a name she could call him. “I’ll see you later, Harry,” she said as she returned to the back of the bar.

Harry sighed, seeming to be smitten already by her. “Yeah. See you later,” he said softly to himself.

❋

Now, Y/N was no idiot. She knew who Harry Styles was.

She wasn’t like the biggest fan, but she appreciated his music and thought he was a lovely guy in general, according to the fan experiences she read. She didn’t know much about him, other than he was a former member of a very successful boyband and his music was just incredible. Plus, she thought he was pretty handsome.

And when she saw him walking through the doors of the bar, she had to take a double take to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

She usually took her job quite seriously, she was polite to all customers and made sure they were always satisfied with their drinks or snacks. It was usually because she wanted to get the tips she needed to pay her rent. So, when Harry sat down by the bar, she couldn’t help herself but go to him.

But now, she was supposed to meet him after her shift. Which was strange to her because all she did was being nice to him and making up a conversation. Did he realise that she was pretending to not know him? Was this some sort of mind trick that was playing on her? Though, he mentioned how it was nice to have a friend. Maybe there was something behind that phrase that meant something deeper to him.

It was already 10 PM. Y/N said goodbye to her coworkers as she grabbed her scarf and coat from her locker. Her heart was beating fast because she realised she was about to go on a little rendezvous with Harry Styles, well, that was what she thought.

She wasn’t expecting anything. She honestly thought he might have just left, realising how silly it was to wait for a bartender friend he just made.

But she walked towards the front of the bar and he was still sitting in his seat like he said he would, waiting for her. And she felt like her heart might burst.

❋

Harry didn’t think he’d find himself sitting at a 24-hour diner, eating some waffles with a pretty friend he just met at nearly 11 PM. He was starting to blame that one whiskey drink he asked for earlier as to be honest, he didn’t know what was happening.

When he met Y/N in front of the bar after the shift, he was nervous, shifting on his feet in habit. When Y/N asked him what he had in mind, he froze because he realised he didn’t think this through. All he wanted was to talk to pretty bartender lady Y/N. The rest was all hazy to him. Luckily, Y/N just laughed at this and guided him to her favourite diner.

They both ordered waffles with honey and blueberry toppings, courtesy of Y/N as she said they were the best waffles she ever had. Y/N got herself a chocolate smoothie while Harry just ordered a nice hot tea. It was a nice little meal.

“So, Harry, what brings you here to LA?” Y/N asked him as she munched on her waffles.

Harry sipped on his tea before clearing his throat. “Uh, I live here, mostly for work. But I’m on a break now,” he said, not giving out too much information. “Hmm. But you haven’t lived here long, I assume. Could tell by your accent,” she said knowingly.

He smiled at this. “Yeah? You like my accent, darlin’?” he teased her and pride filled himself as he saw her cheeks flaring up in the colour red. “Quite the flirt, are ya? But yes, your accent is cute,” she said as she ate. “Good to know,” he smiled and winked at her.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him as she blushed. He seemed to be quite the flirt, teasing her and calling her pet names. If it were any other guy, she would’ve just left. She admitted that she might not have the best ways in maintaining a relationship. It was always whether she was too picky or bossy and her insecurities always got the best of her. She was used to feeling of being used for sex and her body even when she wanted to believe they wanted something more out of it. She closed herself off from love for a while now. While everyone said that her time will come, she just ignored them. Her main priority was herself and that was for sure.

But there was something about Harry that was pulling her in. He wasn’t far from what the papers write about him but at the same time, he was. He seemed somewhat closed off as she was. She didn’t want to pry, she’d never do that. It was like he was in this fish tank surrounded by spectators watching his every move. Maybe the life he has had somewhat prevented him from forming a real, honest attachment. Or maybe she was just making this all up.

She sipped on her smoothie, her eyes focused on his. She realised how green his eyes were looking up close. “So, I have a question. And I want you to answer this as truthfully as possible,” she said, propping her head on the palms of her hands. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, chuckling a bit before nodding. “Alright, love. Lay it on me,” he said, leaning back on the booth.

Y/N blushed at the pet name given and cleared her throat. “Why did you want to see me?”

It was silent between them. Harry should’ve known this question would come up. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to answer it, he was never one to make friends with a random person and go on a little rendezvous late at night. He shrugged at this, “Like I told you, it’s nice to have a friend,”

“That couldn’t be all,” Y/N smiled. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to befriend a bartender and go out with her for a late supper the same night,” Harry blushed at this and scratched the back of his ear with his finger. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to be spontaneous a bit,”

Y/N hummed at this, sipping on her drink. Harry’s eyes were trained on her and she somehow found that a bit intimidating. “I got off work just to clear my mind a bit,” he continued. “Sometimes, I’d go out with my friends, I’d meet some girls and spend the night with them, just to feel something. Just to not be alone,” This was the most Harry had opened up to someone in a while.

“But you still feel alone,” Y/N spoke. Harry frowned at this, not quite sure what she meant. “You could be with someone, and still would feel alone. I get that,” she explained.

Harry’s mouth was agape. “Y-Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled out. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,”

“You really don’t know me, do you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. She let out a small laugh. “I knew who you were the moment you stepped foot into that bar,” she said. Harry’s eyes widened. All this time, he was glad he thought Y/N didn’t know him but she treated him like any other normal person. But she knew all along.

“That was.. Surprising,” he chuckled as he ran his hands through his curly locks. “But, you didn’t seem to look like y’know me. Treated me like a normal person,” She stifled a laugh. “Well, would you rather I’d treat you like royalty? Curtsey in front of you?” She joked.

Harry laughed at this. “No, no. It was nice. It’s good t’just pretend your life is normal for once,” he nodded at her. “I’m sure you have some friends that treat you like you are just Harry,” she smiled.

Harry only shrugged at this, “A few of them do. When you’re in the industry long enough, you’d know how to tell apart the few people that are honest and real with you and the many who just use you sometimes.” Y/N frowned at this but nodded. While she couldn’t connect to being in the same industry as him, she knew perfectly how it feels like to be used by people you allowed yourself to get close to.

He brought his cup of tea to his lips, realising how cold it was getting. “You want some?” He offered his drink to her. Y/N nodded, taking the cup from him. “You like tea?” She asked.

“I do, but I prefer coffee,” he smiled at this random conversation. “Please tell me you don’t take your coffee black,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was daring him to admit it. Harry smirked and shrugged at her. “Sorry, love. It’s the best way to have coffee,”

“No, it’s not! It’s so bitter!” Y/N exclaimed and laughed at this. “I don’t think this would work out,” she pouted. Harry swore his heart beated a little faster, seeing her lips pout. He wondered how they’d feel against his. “What wouldn’t work out, love?” He smiled at her.

Y/N blushed at this, looking down at her lap before she looked at him again. “Whatever you want this to be,”

They spent their time getting to know each other and by the time it was midnight, Harry ended up paying for their meals, ignoring her protests as he did. Y/N was tempted to wipe off that smug smile off his face. The December air howled as the night went on as the decorative holiday lights lit up the street they walked on. The two walked side by side, their hands brushing against each other’s. If Harry had the guts, he would intertwine their hands together. But he didn’t. Not yet, at least.

“Random question, but do you prefer sunrises and sunsets?” she asked out of the blue. Harry thought for a moment before answering, “M’not sure, actually. Never really paid attention to them all that much.” Y/N nodded at his answer.

“Sometimes I like to wake up early just to see the sunrise,” Y/N spoke. Harry looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? You like sunrises?” he asked gently, the cold air making his breath visible to see. “I do. I like sunsets too. But no one ever stops to appreciate the sunrises,” she sighed.

“Maybe it’s because they can’t be bothered to wake up so early,” Harry joked, making her laugh. “Yeah. Well, I do that. My apartment has a nice view of it. It’s nice. The city is just beginning to wake up. The golden glow casted upon it,”

Harry nodded at her. “Is this your way of inviting me over?” He teased. Y/N paused, her cheeks flaming up. It wasn’t her intention, but she might as well have done so. Harry was a nice company to keep and she liked him. She really did like him. “Maybe,” she mumbled.

Harry smiled at her sudden shyness. It was something he liked about her. He really liked her. And he wanted her to take him back to her home, as pathetic as that made him seem.

“Well, lead the way, darlin’,”

Y/N struggled to put her keys into the keyhole of her apartment. Nervous was an understatement for her. She had a really sweet and attractive man waiting behind her and she was about to invite him in. She was almost sweating at the thought and she didn’t know why.

She opened the door, letting the warm air of her small apartment flow through them. Harry found it quite cozy. There were plants placed in different corners of the room, he noticed a record player by the television. There was also an easel standing by it. It was small, unlike his luxurious houses, but homey.

“You paint?” He asked. Y/N blushed at this, she forgot to put away your paint and clean up. In her defense, she didn’t think you would have company tonight. “Yeah, s’just a hobby. And somewhat a side hustle,” she said, taking off her coat and putting in on the couch. Harry did the same, subtly wiping his sweaty palms against his dark jeans.

“Uh, d-do you want something to drink?” she asked nervously. Idiot, you just had drinks. “Or, if y’want, I have some chocolate chip cookies. If you like chocolate chip cookies. I mean, y’don’t have to but-,” Y/N was cut off upon hearing Harry chuckling at her, his expression amused as he listened to her nervous rambling.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m good,” he said, smiling at her. She blushed again at the use of the pet name.

It was silence, the only thing that could be heard was their breathing as they looked at each other. Harry slowly walked over, Y/N’s breath hitched as he did so. She was nervous and she was scared, she hadn’t done this in a long time. His arm settled on her waist and it was the first time he touched her. His eyes, green as ever and filled with lust and passion, were focused on hers. She could feel his breath hitting her face due to the proximity between them.

Y/N gently placed her hands on his chest, feeling it rising up and down as he breathed. His forehead was already pressing against hers, their noses slightly brushing against each other. “Can I kiss you?” Harry finally asked ever so softly. And Y/N couldn’t help but nod her head. “Please,”

His lips crashed into hers, gently at first, but she kissed him harder, making it more passionate. She could hear him moan into the kiss as their tongues battled for dominance. His hands travelled lower to her backside, she moaned aloud as he squeezed them. When they pulled away, they would instantly pull into another kiss again, wanting to be close. Harry lowered his hands further behind her thighs, signaling her to jump so he could hold her tightly against him.

“Y/N, I won’t be able to stop,” he said, gasping for air. Y/N only kissed him again, replying as her lips were against his. “Then, don’t,”

Y/N wasn’t sure how they made it to her room, laying nearly naked on her bed. She just realised how many tattoos he had on his body. She traced over the art scattered over his skin delicately. “Harry,” she whimpered as she felt his hardened length grinding against her core. She could feel her arousal seeping through her underwear. She gasped as he pressed kisses down her neck onto her collarbones, her eyes rolling back when he sucked a sweet spot there. His fingers entangled themselves between hers, squeezing them tightly.

“Harry, please,”

“I got you, baby. Gonna take my time with you,” he said gently as he kissed her forehead.

Y/N could feel her heart beamed at the sweet gesture. She had one-night stands before, but none of them felt as intimate as with Harry. The way he kissed her, held her, it almost felt right. And she wondered if he felt it too.

When they’re fully naked and Harry lined himself against her, he looked at her, as if he was asking if she was still sure of this; if she wanted this; if she wanted him. Her eyes were shining as the moonlight shone through her curtains, her hair sprawled against her pillow. She was beautiful and ethereal. He almost couldn’t believe it.

A nod from her was all it took for him to push himself in, the two moaning in relief as pleasure shot through their bodies. He slowly thrusted, taking his time with her. The feeling of euphoria running through their bodies as they held each other close. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, wanting to keep his warm body close to her. “Harry, faster,” Y/N pleaded.

It was almost like a switch went off his head before Harry spreaded her legs further, thrusting harder and further into her. Moans and groans filled the room and the scent of sex and sweat filled the air. Harry had his head buried into the crook of her neck, breathing hard as he felt the pleasure burning at the bottom of his spine. He was close and he knew she was too from the way she was clenching around him.

“You close, baby?” He breathed out as he looked at her. The bed was creaking with every movement they made. Y/N moaned in ecstasy as she nodded her head, trying to keep her eyes on him. She didn’t want to miss a thing with him.

Harry took her by surprise by pulling out, lifting her up so she sat on his lap. He guided himself into herself, groaning as she welcomed him in her. Y/N moaned loudly as she felt him hit deeper, feeling herself clenching around him. She quickly began to move against him, smiling as she saw Harry shut his eyes in pleasure, murmuring her name. “C-Close, Harry, fuck,” she groaned as she moved faster.

Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as if it was possible. He thrusted his hips upwards against hers, adding to the euphoric pleasure that was coursing through them. “I know, baby. Fuck, y’feel so good around me,” he moaned out, looking at her with hooded eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, their heavy breaths hitting each other’s faces.

It was only a glance into his forest green eyes that triggered her high. She moaned out loud, her body shaking against him, and just the sight of her high triggered Harry’s. He groaned against her neck and cursed a string of profanities under his breath as he kept thrusting his hips into her, prolonging his orgasm. When they calmed down from their highs, they took deep breaths before pressing their lips together. Harry could hear a whimper from the beautiful woman above him. He was delirious with the bliss feeling.

They laid on their sides, admiring each other’s glowing yet sweaty state. Harry closed his eyes and sighed as Y/N brushed her fingers through his hair. “Y’alright?” he murmured to her. She nodded and gave him a shy smile. He thought it was cute of her acting all shy after having done such an intimate and dirty activity with him. He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling as she scrunched it up. “You’re beautiful,” he admitted.

Y/N let out a deep breath. There was no denying the attraction she felt for him. The setting was so intimate, far from what she thought it was going to be. She felt herself opening up to him, something she prevented herself from doing for a long time. She was scared of this, but she liked it at the same time.

“Hold me?” she asked and Harry pulled her against his body without a second to waste. Their breathing was the only sound they paid attention to. Y/N nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck, her finger tracing the tattoos on his chest.

“Are you gonna stay?” she asked softly. She was not expecting anything, but she hoped he did stay.

Harry smiled and pulled her closer. “Only if y’want me to,” he said. Y/N returned the smile, tracing out his lips with her finger, feeling how soft they were.

“I’d like that,”

❋

When Harry woke up, he felt an empty cold space beside him. Confused at first, he sat up slowly, wondering where the pretty woman he liked was. He turned his head and there she was, sitting by her window looking out into the early morning. She was sipping on something from her mug and she was wearing his dark blue T-shirt from the night before. She looked absolutely breathtaking.

“You’re up early,” he said, catching her by surprise at the sound of his voice. She smiled at him and made her way to sit on his lap, putting her mug on the bedside table. “You missed the sunrise.” She ran her fingers through his messy bed hair. He sighed, realising how much he liked her doing that simple yet intimate gesture. “Yeah? Was it pretty?”

“Very,” she sighed as Harry laid his head on his shoulder. He held her tightly in his arms, similar to how he did when they slept. “Well, you’re prettier,” he said, planting kisses up her neck. She realised how deep and raspy his voice sounded in the morning, it sent shivers down her spine. “Well, you’re a charmer,” she murmured.

Harry looked up at her, taking in her morning glow that she was emitting. “Your eyes are really pretty,” Y/N said softly as she admired his forest green eyes. “Yeah? Y’think so?” he said, playfully fluttering his eyes at her. She laughed at this, throwing her head back. Harry thought it was the sweetest sound. She traced the outline of his lips with her index finger, feeling how soft they were under her touch. Harry kept his mouth agape as she did so.

“Can I kiss you?” Y/N whispered. He smiled at her, remembering his exact words from the night before, before nodding. “Please,”

The fluttering in his stomach intensified as their lips met. The thing that clouded Harry’s mind was how soft her lips were and how sweet they tasted. Their kiss almost made him feel dizzy for how much passion there was. When they pulled away, he looked at Y/N with hooded eyes, his breathing was heavy from the blissful sensation he felt. He gently wrapped his arms around her frame and it just felt right.

He pulled her into another kiss, a moan elicited from Y/N that sent blood rushing to his lower region. His hands travelled up his shirt she was wearing and he let out a groan, realising she had nothing underneath it. He felt drunk by her touch, her scent; everything. It was a delicate feeling he felt and he didn’t want to let go of it. He could get used to this, the feeling of her. For once in a long while, he didn’t feel alone anymore.

It was no doubt that Y/N felt the same.

It all just felt right.

❋

The snow was covering the backyard, the trees and bushes were covered in white. Y/N watched as the snow fell while sipping on her hot chocolate. The house was decorated for the special wintery day. The tree was lit up and decorated with many ornaments as well as pictures on it, the presents laying closely below it.

Voices snapped her out of her thoughts, she smiled as she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. She turned around to see her husband holding up a sleepy little girl in his large muscular arms, the little girl they were blessed with as their daughter. Harry was talking animatedly to Ruby, trying to wake her up in the Christmas spirit.

He gasped and pointed his finger at you. “Look, Rue! It’s mummy! An early bird, isn’t she?” He said to Ruby as he bounced her gently in his arms. You rolled your eyes at his silliness. “Mama,” the little girl reached out to her mother as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. Y/N set her mug on the counter and grabbed lifted little Ruby in her arms. “Morning, Rue baby,” Y/N cooed softly at her, closing her mouth with the back of her hand when she yawned.

“Think she’s a bit tired,” Harry chuckled at them. “Y’think? Who’s the idiot that woke her up early?” Y/N asked sarcastically at her husband. He only lifted his arms up in defense, a smug smile painted on his face. Ruby quietly giggled at her parents. He sipped on a mug of hot chocolate and she narrowed her eyes at her as he leaned back on the counter.

“Are you really drinking my hot chocolate?” Harry paused for a bit before swallowing the warm drink. “I’ll make ya another one, love,” he rubbed the back of his neck. Y/N rolled her eyes at him before chuckling. “You better, Styles.” She felt Ruby shifting in her arms and gently bounced her. “Y’alright, bubs?” She pouted at her daughter.

“Snow,” she said, pointing out the window where the snow was falling. “Yeah, bubs! It’s snowing!” Y/N exclaimed excitedly to her, making Ruby giggle. “Dada, snow!” she exclaimed to her father.

Harry laughed at his daughter’s adorableness. “That’s right, Rue!” He agreed, stroking through her curly hair that she inherited from him. He placed a hand gently on Y/N’s clothed stomach. “And how’s bub number 2 doing?” He asked softly. Y/N smiled, her heart beaming at the gentleness of her husband. “They’re doing great in there,” she said, placing her hand over his above her two-month growing belly.

Harry beamed at this, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips, eliciting a small whimper from her.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. Even after all these years, she found his green eyes just as beautiful and hypnotizing.

“I love you, too,” she said and smiled at him as they broke away.

Perhaps, Harry would consider himself lucky that his sad lonely self walked into the bar she previously worked at five years ago. Maybe if he hadn’t opened up to Y/N or went back to her apartment, he wouldn’t be able to have this little family he was blessed with. There was something so delicate and real he felt that night that he wanted to keep. So naturally, they both let their walls down and took a chance on each other. And perhaps because it was nearing Christmas that night, he would think of it as some Christmas miracle.

“Wanna open the presents, Rue?” Y/N asked Ruby as bounced her in her arms. Ruby giggled, not even understanding what her mother said, and nodded. “Yeah? Wanna open presents with mummy and daddy?” Y/N said excitedly as she carried her into the living room. Harry chuckled at the precious sight of them as he followed them.

As they sat down in the living room, he took a moment to just admire his wife and his daughter. Y/N, though wearing one of his Christmas sweaters and sleep shorts, looked just as beautiful and ethereal as she did the night they met. She held little Ruby in her arms, who was busy tearing up the small present in front of her. His wife cheered at their daughter as she took out a little stuffed teddy bear, giggling as she waved it around with her small hands.

Y/N looked up at him and gave him a loving smile as she intertwined her fingers with him. Despite them being in such cold weather, her hands felt warm against his. He admired how they fit perfectly in his. Ruby babbled incoherently to her parents about her gift, in which they nodded like they understood what she said. Harry’s heart warmed up just thinking of how they’ll have another addition to their loving little family soon.

His heart was full of love and happiness. He no longer felt alone. He had everything he wanted in that moment, his growing little family.

Everything was just right.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #parkersroses writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing

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smooshjames · 4 years

Text

Promise?

smash bros, gay panic, and spicy cheese jell-o salad: the story of two women in love

word count: 4.4k

a/n: first courtney work and i gotta say, i’m extremely proud of this one. i hope i did the request justice! as always, here’s a link to my ko-fi if you want / are able to donate, which is, of course, never an obligation. whether you support me with your money or just with your eyes, i’m so grateful that you take the time to read my work, and i hope you enjoy!

warnings: some mild angst, mostly just gay panic and fluff, exceedingly dramatic descriptions of super smash bros gameplay

request: here

The first time you appeared as a guest on Smosh, they had you film a Try Not To Laugh. When that went over well with the fans, they invited you back for another. Then you appeared on a SmoshCast, and then an Eat It or Yeet It. And on it went. You became a staple to the community. You loved Smosh, though you declined to work there full time (you had enough of your own independent creative pursuits without adding on a full-time job, no matter how wonderful that full-time job might be).

But more than just the larger following and the fond memories that Smosh had gotten you, you also found quite a few good friends. You spent time with the Squad constantly, always going out to lunch or coffee, getting invited to dinner parties and other random hangouts, playing video games with Damien or talking with Sarah well into the night. Despite not officially working at Smosh, you had been accepted into the family, and you had come to consider the cast and crew as some of your closest friends.

All this to say that when Ian reached out to ask if you wanted to participate in a video for Smosh Games, you said yes without a second thought. It was a pretty casual video, just everyone sitting around and playing Smash Bros. There were two twists, one tamer than the other. The first was that everyone had to choose random characters, which was to prevent people who played the game a lot from picking their mains; it would provide some interest as people struggled to learn the mechanics of characters they didn’t usually play. The second twist was that at the end of each round, whoever won got to choose a punishment for whoever lost (losing, in this instance, defined as being the first person out). You settled on the familiar red couch with Courtney next to you and Shayne to her right. Damien, Keith, Noah, Matt, and Sarah settled in chairs around and behind you.

Shayne introduced the video and the rules, explained a few of the punishments that the winner would get to choose from (and that the loser would have to endure), and then the game began. Everyone hit the randomize button. Various groans of annoyance and/or cheers of pleasant surprise went up around you. Matt lucked out with Bowser, Shayne got Isabelle, Keith got Lucario. You had Villager, which you felt pretty neutral about.

Immediately, you set your sights on Courtney. Of everyone at Smosh, you were by far closest to her. The two of you had hit it off instantly and become fast friends. Though, much to your excitement and frustration, it sometimes seemed like she wanted it to be something more. The two of you were constantly flirting back and forth, veiled as teasing or just Friendly Complimenting. There was one incident that would be seared into your brain until the day you died: the time she had gotten a little too drunk at a party and leaned in to kiss you fully on the lips, but you’d been interrupted by Shayne before she could. You had fallen asleep in the same bed multiple times, for multiple reasons: the time she had called you after a bad breakup and you held her while she cried; the time you called her after a bad breakup; the time you’d been too drunk to make it home, so she’d invited you to stay the night at her place but neither of you wanted to make the other sleep on the couch so you just both slept on the bed. All things that could be explained away as close friendship (except maybe the almost kiss, but that was explained away with alcohol; you were pretty sure she didn’t even remember it). It wasn’t like you weren’t physical with your other friends. You’d cuddled with Sarah and held Shayne’s hand. But all that stuff felt way different when you did it with Courtney. With Courtney, it felt consequential, important.

Even now, having her next to you on the couch had your heart pounding in your chest. The couch was small (more a loveseat than anything), so her leg was pressed against yours from ankle to hip. Your arm kept brushing against hers as you played. You could smell the occasional whiff of her perfume.

You were in full, unadulterated gay panic.

But you also had a game to win. You weren’t a sore loser under normal circumstances, but one of the punishments involved drinking straight mayonnaise and you were not about to endure that. You knew you just had to outlast someone else, and you figured you could tease Courtney in the process. You went after her every opportunity you got, managing to knock her off twice.

The first round came to a close. Damien won and Noah lost. Damien chose to tweet something on Noah’s account, which Noah wasn’t allowed to delete or address; he just had to leave it up to let people speculate about it until the video came out. Damien strung together a bunch of non sequiturs that made exactly no sense, the group laughed, and the next round began.

In the second round, you went after Courtney yet again. It was fun to antagonize her; being as expressive as she was, she couldn’t keep a poker face, and she kept yelling unintelligible threats at you as her character plummeted off the side of the stage. As you laughed gleefully at her annoyance, you flashed back to the time in third grade when one of the boys wouldn’t stop pulling your hair on the playground. When you’d complained to your mother, she told you that he probably had a crush on you and didn’t know how to deal with it (she’d also told you to stand up for yourself, which led to you kicking the kid where the sun doesn't shine, which was a very interesting meeting between you, your teacher, and your mother; but that’s a story for another day).

Point being, you realized now how that kid had felt.

Once again, at the end of round two, you didn’t win or lose. You were perfectly content to run in the middle of the pack. In fact, until the last round, you were actively trying not to win. Your strategy for this game was going unnoticed. If you won too much, everyone would start to target you; if you lost too much, you’d have to deal with punishments.

By round three, you and Courtney were in a complete, unspoken war. The two of you ignored the other players as much as you possibly could, choosing instead to constantly pursue each other. She got a few hits in on you, but you were too good; months of playing with Damien and Shayne had prepared you for this moment. You knocked her off once, twice, three times. Your trash talk was louder and more constant than anyone else’s. Even Damien and Shayne weren’t ribbing each other as much as you and Courtney.

Round four went similarly. You knocked her off once, and then again. As her character fell into the abyss, she looked like she was sincerely considering putting her controller through the television screen.

God, you were in love with her.

“Y/N!” she said. You’d never heard such visceral exasperation. You went after her once again.

“What’s up?” you asked, voice light and breezy. It was a joke you’d picked up from Damien. You forced her character off the screen and she shouted so loud you were pretty sure passersby might’ve thought she was getting murdered.

“Quit it or I’ll bite!” she yelled. Shayne started laughing so hard that Noah managed to knock him off the stage while he was distracted.

Maybe it was the sheer adrenaline you felt as you turned to fight Keith, maybe it was the fact that you were so utterly love drunk, maybe you just weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, maybe you were desperate for the last word. You weren’t sure why you said what you said next, but you sure as hell said it, and the room sure as hell went quiet when you did.

“Promise?”

There was a second, two seconds, three, of silence as everyone processed what you’d said. And then the room erupted in laughter and cheers. Meanwhile, on the screen, Keith beat you, and then Shayne beat him, and then Matt forced Shayne off the edge of the stage and was declared the winner of round four.

Sarah had lost, and as Matt doled out her punishment (drinking mayo, the one you’d been so staunchly against), you snuck a glance at Courtney. She was completely occupied with cheering Sarah on; she barely even noticed you looking at her. She didn’t seem particularly upset by what you’d said. In fact, she didn’t seem upset at all. It looked like she had just shrugged it off as a joke, which both relieved and disappointed you.

On the one hand, it was good that she hadn’t realized the deeper meaning behind your words — or, well. Word. Singular. If she had realized just how serious you were, your friendship might have gotten weird or awkward. You figured she didn’t like you back; if she had, she would’ve asked you out by now. You knew that Courtney wasn’t the type to stop being friends with someone just because of a crush, but you didn’t want her to think that your friendship with her had ulterior motives or anything like that.

On the other hand, you sort of wished she had taken it seriously. After all, she flirted back with you, and she initiated physical contact more often than you did. There had also been the infamous Almost Kiss Incident of 2019. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, there was something there. As much as you tried to rationalize it away, you couldn’t ignore the lingering touches, the tenderness she seemed to save for you and only you, the double entendres that came with a joking eyebrow waggle but a serious heat in her gaze. Maybe you needed to take the initiative.

So went the paradox you’d found yourself stuck inside of. It seemed like you had a good shot if you made the first move, but it might get weird if you were reading the signs wrong, which meant you did nothing, and maybe she took that as a signal that you weren’t interested, which meant she did nothing, which you took as a signal that she wasn’t interested, rinse and repeat.

Feelings were a complicated web and you were very close to throwing in the towel completely. Maybe you could fast forward to the inevitable spinster-slash-cat-lady days which seemed to be your destiny.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about it. Round five was starting, and round five had the biggest punishment of all, which meant you were really screwed if you lost. Plus, whenever you let yourself overanalyze your relationship with Courtney, you ended up with a migraine and exactly no progress on your game plan.

“Y/N,” she said as the round began, “let’s call a truce until it’s just us. And then we can settle this one on one.”

“Hm,” you said, pretending to think about it even as you turned away from her and started attacking Noah. “Tempting. But it sounds a little bit like you’re just trying to get me off your ass for a while since I’m so much better at Smash Bros than you.”

You heard someone (probably Damien) let out a low “oooo” from somewhere behind you. You were barely conscious of your surroundings. Your world had narrowed to the screen in front of you and the feeling of Courtney’s thigh pressed warmly against yours.

“No,” she said. She was fending off Shayne and Damien simultaneously, which was actually really impressive. Courtney was a good Smash player when you weren’t beating the shit out of her. You made a mental note to tease her about that later. “I just want to settle this without distraction. Then we’ll see who the better Smash player really is — damn it!” Shayne had gotten the better of her and knocked her off the stage.

“I’ll call a truce with you on one condition. If we both survive to the end of the game, whoever loses has to take the punishment.”

She considered. These were technically not the rules of the challenge: in the last four rounds, it had been that whoever died first had to take the punishment, rather than whoever died second-to-last. But you wanted to up the stakes, and hey, no one could say you didn’t know good television.

“Fine,” she said. Everyone else murmured their assent; it was better for them, anyway, since it basically guaranteed they wouldn’t have to take the punishment.

And it was settled. The two of you stayed away from each other. The game went on. After a few minutes, as you forced Keith off the edge for the third time, you realized that you and Courtney were the only two left. There was silence for a moment as you sized each other up in real life, both of your characters frozen in their respective places on the screen. All your friends were holding their breath.

You held your hand out to Courtney. “May the best woman win,” you said, and you meant it. She took your hand and shook it firmly, and you felt like the bones in your arm were melting as she did it. Even that simple touch was enough to have your heart pounding. Every nerve in your hand stood at attention. And as you pulled away, the feeling lingered like an electric shock.

The next few minutes were fraught with tension. You’d never fought harder in a Smash Bros game in your life. Courtney was fighting with a vengeance, and she was so good that you wondered for a moment if she’d been letting you win earlier. All of your trash talk ceased as the two of you focused on the game with the intensity of people whose lives were actually at stake. Your friends were forced to provide commentary as you and Courtney played silently, utterly focused, but you were barely hearing them. At one point, you felt Damien rubbing your shoulders and you were distantly aware of Shayne doing the same to Courtney, both of them talking in your ears like trainers at a boxing match. Matt was doing his best sports announcer imitation.

She killed you. You killed her. She killed you. The two of you were each down to one life. The playing field was completely even. Your fingers flew across your controller. You had broken an actual sweat.

And then, the unthinkable: Courtney, the underdog, forced you off the edge of the stage. The room erupted. Everyone was screaming, yourself included. It was absolute madness. Shayne grabbed Courtney’s wrist and held her hand in the air like the ref at the end of a match. Sarah and Matt were jumping around behind the couch. You were yelling things that even you couldn’t make sense of. Keith and Noah were scream-laughing and leaning on each other for support.

It took a solid couple minutes for everyone to settle down, and then it was time for your punishment, which had been kept a strict secret until this moment. Courtney didn’t get to choose anything. All anyone knew was that it was the worst of them all. Your heart was thundering from adrenaline and anticipation.

You knew you were in for a treat (in the worst possible sense of the word) when Garrett entered the room with a silver platter. You had a flashback to the ghost pepper pasta you’d been forced to eat on Eat It or Yeet It. Your heart dipped.

“No…” you said, more to yourself than anything. Everyone waited with bated breath as Garrett walked in and set the platter on the coffee table before you. You took a deep breath. You looked at the camera. “Well,” you said, “if this is what kills me, it’s been real.”

You uncovered the platter. It was a Jell-O salad, that much was clear. The smell had your stomach churning. It was indescribable, but if you had to try, you’d describe it as boys’ locker room with a side of wasabi. You picked up the fork and poked at it a little. You were pretty sure you heard Courtney gag as the smell hit her.

“Do I get a puke bucket?” you asked. You were actually kind of terrified for your digestive tract. A crew member walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with the Eat It or Yeet It bucket. Fitting.

You got as much of the Jell-O salad onto your fork as you could and, with the bucket firmly in hand, put the bite in your mouth. You gagged, but persevered. Somehow, it tasted better than it smelled. That’s not to say it tasted good (it didn’t), just that the dirty sock smell got buried under the wasabi/ghost pepper/whatever spicy bullshit Garrett had found this week.

You swallowed, grimacing all the while, and opened your mouth for the cameras to see. Everyone clapped, you felt Keith put a hand on your shoulder, and Courtney began doing the outro for the video. She asked where the fans could find you. You plugged your Twitter and YouTube as usual. Someone brought you bread so you could drown out the spice in your mouth.

The cameras cut and you stood up, eager to stretch your legs after sitting on the couch for so long. “That was fun,” you said. Everyone agreed. Courtney stood up, nodded, and then made her way out of the room. Your heart dropped. You couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with you. Maybe she had been freaked out by your comment but just didn’t show it while you were recording. Maybe you’d hurt her feelings by singling her out throughout the game. Maybe the smell of your Jell-O salad had been so bad she needed a bathroom.

As you watched her go, Shayne sidled up next to you. “‘Promise?’” he asked in his best imitation of you, shit-eating grin on his face. You turned and slapped him on the arm.

Shayne knew about your crush. You’d been forced to tell him after he caught you in the middle of the Almost Kiss Incident. You had tried to play it off, say she was just drunk, say it didn’t mean anything to you, but Shayne was smart. He saw right through you. You had confessed your feelings. He’d been doing his best to help the two of you ever since, but he absolutely refused to tell you what he knew about how she felt; if she reciprocated your feelings and Shayne knew about it, he wasn’t letting you in on the secret. He insisted that it wasn’t his place to tell you one way or the other, which you respected as an adult and as his friend, but despised as someone stuck in romantic limbo.

“Shut up,” you muttered. You glanced back toward the door where Courtney had exited. “Did she seem upset to you?”

Shayne just shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. And then he nudged your arm with his elbow and nodded pointedly toward the door. “I’m sure she’d tell you if you asked. You’re pretty much her best friend.”

“I don’t know…” you said. “What if it’s because of me?”

“Then she’ll tell you and you’ll talk it out like the grown women that you are.”

You bit your lip, debating. You knew he was right (Shayne, when he dropped all the bravado and the Comedy Man act, was seldom wrong).

“Go, Y/N,” he said.

You squared your shoulders and left the soundstage in search of Courtney.

You found her sifting through costumes on the Try Not to Laugh set. You knew that she came here sometimes to think of new bits and clear her head, so finding her now didn’t come as a surprise. You closed the door behind you and then knocked on it quietly to let her know you were there. She jumped, but relaxed when she realized it was you.

“Hey,” you said. Being alone with her had the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. “You ran off kinda fast after we wrapped the video. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She nodded and turned back to the costume rack. Her hands were shaking slightly, that much you saw from your position by the door. You wanted to hug her, but given the events of the day, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. You waited for her to say or do something; you decided you would let her lead.

Finally, she took in a sharp breath and turned to you. There was something utterly indescribable in her eyes, but whatever it was sent you overboard. You felt like you’d been launched into space without a helmet, screaming inaudibly, head about to explode from the pressure. The look on her face almost made your knees buckle; you had to grab the doorknob behind you to stay upright.

“Are we…” she stopped, took another breath, and started again. “Am I fucking insane for thinking that whatever we are, we’re more than friends? Because I keep getting it in my head that you look at me a little too fondly to just chalk it up to friendship. But every time I flirt or hold your hand or anything you just… you don’t seem into it like that. And I mean, even when I tried to kiss you — with the help of a little alcohol — it seemed like you were leaning away. But maybe I was just drunk. But after today, I mean… God! ‘Promise,’ Y/N, really? How the fuck am I supposed to take that? And the whole time we’re playing I’ve got your fucking leg up against mine distracting me.” She took a break to gulp in some air, but she was nowhere near finished, and you wouldn’t know what to say even if she was. “And no one else is willing to fucking help me! I know Shayne knows something but every time I ask he plays the It’s Not My Place card. Well what the fuck am I supposed to do with that! But it seems like you don’t want me, so I haven’t said anything because I don’t want to ruin what little of you I do have, so I just sit around feeling like I’m going into cardiac fucking arrest every time you’re near me but not being able to do anything about it!”

By the time she was finished, her shoulders were practically heaving with the effort. She looked close to tears. She was looking at you pleadingly now, terrified of what you might say.

Two equally inane realizations hit you in rapid succession. First, Shayne did know, the little shit; you were going to have words with him as soon as you were done here. Second, Courtney remembered the Almost Kiss Incident. You had assumed that she’d been so drunk she wouldn’t remember. That was part of the reason you’d leaned away; you weren’t sure if it was fueled by her actual desire to kiss you or just an alcohol-addled mistake, and you didn’t want to risk it being the latter.

Far more importantly, you realized how much time you’d both wasted on the same fear. Both of you walking on eggshells, afraid to say something because it seemed like the other didn’t feel the same way. The force of how monumentally idiotic you’d been knocked the air out of your lungs.

You debated how to go about resolving this. You knew one way or the other, you’d walk out of the room with a date scheduled. You considered just kissing her then and there; it would certainly convey all the words spiraling through your head. It would also be the romance movie thing to do. But you sort of felt like if you tried to walk you might pass out immediately. The doorknob was the only thing grounding you in reality.

“We’re both dumb as hell,” you said, finally. Not the most eloquent response to a declaration of love. She furrowed her brow. You hurried to elaborate, worried she would take it the wrong way. “I mean it’s been at least a year of both of us overanalyzing every time we so much as breathe in each other’s direction, and we’re just now confessing our mutual love. Kind of pathetic, if you think about it.”

Courtney laughed as she realized what you were saying. She made her way over to you, swearing as she almost tripped over the costume rack, and wrapped you in a massive hug. You buried your face in her neck, happy to finally have confirmation of the things you’d suspected for literal years.

You had a lot of time to make up for.

You pulled apart, though neither of you went very far. You were still in each other’s personal space, and it was taking a lot of brain power for you to speak coherent sentences when she was very much within kissing distance.

“How’s Saturday for you? Would dinner work?” you asked.

She grinned and nodded, and there was a moment where neither of you said anything, either too happy or too dumbfounded to speak.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” she said. “I know that’s not proper date etiquette, but I think we’ve wasted plenty of time.”

“Courtney, we’re far beyond first date,” you said. “If you leave this room without kissing me I’ll be so wounded, I don’t know if I’d be able to go on.”

She rolled her eyes at you but leaned in to kiss you anyway. It was perfect, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. One of her hands was on your cheek, the other on your waist. When she pulled away, she made a face, and your heart plummeted.

“What?” you said, trying to keep your voice light despite your fear that she was disappointed with something. “Not good enough for you?”

“No, not at all. It was perfect except for one thing,” she replied.

You quirked a brow.

“You taste like spicy cheese Jell-O salad.”

#courtney miller x reader #courtney miller #shayne topp #damien haas #matt raub #sarah whittle #keith leak jr #noah grossman #smosh #eliza.txt #inspired by my very real desire to play smash bros with the squad

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

Text

under cover of darkness

summary: a 24-hour convenience store, the night shift, and the man who gets you through day.

a commission for @lovelycarose

pairing: eliot spencer x reader

words: 5510

trigger warnings: mentions of a break-in with canon-level violence, fluff, mentions of an unspecified chronic pain disorder

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

There are some good things about the night shift. It’s easier to balance classes and your precarious mental health, plus the pay wasn’t terrible – a few extra bucks per hour were thrown your way after eleven and before five.

So you kept with it, one earbud in so you could listen to music while the hours ticked by at a pace so slow it felt like some supervillain had not only completely frozen time – but was also determined to thaw is at room temperature.

That was another thing about the night shift – the customers. It was mostly regulars, or tourists who forgot something at home but didn’t want to spend airport prices for a travel sized container of deodorant. None of them really stick out, none interesting enough to stick in your brain for long as you mindlessly pack their various items into white plastic bags.

That is, until he starts coming in. Tall and impossible big – it’s hard not to marvel at him as if he was a breathtaking skyscraper, like you had never seen something so magnificent. His flowing dark brown hair, his tight jeans…it’s all nearly too much for eleven-at-night-you. (Also for “I haven’t had sex in so long and I think I’ve eroded the ridges on my vibrator from using it so often and holy shit I would do anything to have that man under/above me” you, a you only made stronger and more desperate by how late it was and tired you were.)

He walks around with the confidence not often seen in newcomers, your eye used to college students too drunk to stand up perfectly straight. You’re used to people stumbling around with eyes-half closed, rubbing their temples as the bright white lights feel like cheese graters shaped like ice picks against their already hurting brains. You’re used to watching them stumble around, using some Neolithic instinct to find the cool fridges where they’ll rest their faces against the glass for an oddly long amount of time before opening it up to grab as many Gatorades as they could hold before attempting to grab one or two (or five) frozen pizzas, never able to access the higher order thinking necessary to understand that maybe grabbing one of the baskets by the entrance is important.

Or, on the other end of the spectrum you’ve come to know as normal: soccer moms searching for alcohol for their husband’s post-game barbecue. Moms with large dark circles under their eyes who probably read (and watched) the Fifty Shades movie unironically but still feels weird when their husbands suggest having sex in any position besides missionary with the lights off. Moms who went to college just to meet some mediocre-looking frat boy who votes Republican just because his father did and thinks thirty seconds of oral is enough foreplay.

They don’t spend as much time in the store as the drunk/high students, but it’s still just as entertaining watching them grab the food and drink – but not before lingering in the makeup aisle, staring at bold shades of red and waterproof mascara and the bright hair dye whose advertisements have terribly applied photoshop.

No matter the type – no matter the customer – they were nothing like the man who stood on the other side of the store, staring intently at your soft drink selection. None of them were beefy men with crumpled grocery lists, permanently furrowed brows, and the most beautiful five o’clock shadow you’ve ever seen. None of them wear thick black work boots that make not a single sound as they walk around the store, none of them wear jeans that are so criminally tight around a perfect ass.

Not even a perfect ass – the perfect ass. It’s symmetrical, looking as if it was drawn by a pin-up artist in the 50’s whose specialty involves drawing super buff men in poses meant for petite, slender women with perfect curves. As he walks you half expect sparks to form on his backside as if you were in some kind of Anime, or for each individual cheek to bounce up and down on their own asynchronous accord. Normally you’d be terrified of being caught staring – of him turning around and catching your eye and mocking someone like you for having the nerve to be attracted to him.

But that doesn’t happen, because for once in your life the universe is kind to you. For once in your life you’re allowed to listen to music and stare dreamily at the hot guy who checks the ingredients on every snack dip option you have available before choosing three different ones with a small, disappointed huff.

You watch him with that same silent intensity as he fills the bright red carrier he grabbed without a sound when he first strutted in, the packaging of the items crinkling being the only way to track his location when he steps out of your eyeline. If your boss wasn’t the one on security cameras you’d be angling all of them to follow him around the store, your eyes hungry for another look at him at whatever angle and whichever quality you could get. You feel like a fangirl obsessed with some boyband, your heart rate determined by the amount of the mountain of a man you can see between displays of holiday-themed candy and cheap make up.

You’re not sure how long it is before he’s approaching your counter (time appears to have lost all meaning the second he stepped into the store), but whether it had been five minutes or five years, he still takes your breath away. As he steps closer you realize he’s fucking massive – something your grandmother (a wonderful woman, but one lacking when social situations called for, among other things, any kind of brain-to-mouth filter) would call a “shit brickhouse.” He doesn’t even need one of the baskets as he prowls the aisles – scanning every item like a lion watches the Sahara through tall grass. It’s hard to look away, to go back to the book you’ve been trying to read the same page from since long before the little automated bell above the door had announced the man’s arrival – but the only distraction before had been the tiny, exhausted voice in the back of your mind that was shaming at you for not sleeping before the night’s shift.

Now, though, the voice has quieted to allow your tired eyes to follow him, pupils tracing along every inch of him.

The man checks out without a word; shaking his head when you ask if he has a rewards card and paying in cash. When you give him $7.26 in change, your hands touch for a brief moment and you nearly stop breathing – lungs suddenly void of their capacity to hold air as sparks fly from his callous fingertips to the bottom of your spine. He pulls away, eventually, because he has to – depositing the totality of the meager amount of money you’d just handed him into the donation box plastered with facts about victims of domestic violence right next to your register.

The box is made of an opaque deep purple plastic, the coins making a loud clink sound as they crash into the near-empty container. The man stares at it for a moment, swallowing an apparent lump in his throat as his eyes go blank for a fraction of a second before he digs into his pockets and fishes out a thick wad of perfectly folded five dollar bills before stuffing them into the hastily cut slot at the top.

Neither of you say anything as he does so, you too stunned by his generosity and him too occupied with making sure he had no more money hidden in his pockets to try and muster some vague capacity for speech. Still, as he turns and leaves, you cough to clear your throat and call out a loud and slightly hoarse “thank you!” to which he just turns and gives you a small smile in return.

The moment between the pair of you is fleeting but still makes your heart beat rapidly in your chest, swelling until your lungs feel tight against your ribs as you struggle to breathe. Fuck, you think. You haven’t felt like this since middle school when Jamie told you that your Katniss braid was adorable and you followed him around for two weeks until he agreed to take you on a “date” during lunch. You don’t even know this man’s name and you’re fawning over him as if you have another girlhood crush.

God, you need to learn his name.

Luckily, you find out the next time that his name is Eliot, even though the name embroidered in red above the right pocket of his dirtied coveralls says “Evan” in a fancy looped script (whatever, you don’t question it. You regularly wore your roommate’s sweatshirt from her alma mater even though you didn’t attend the university – must be the same thing, right?). That time all he buys is hair ties and chapstick – lots of hair ties and chapstick, just another thing you don’t question – but stays to talk with you about the Robert Frost poem you were annotating.

“Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening?” he reads aloud, smiling a little as he does so. “Is that for class, or…”

“It’s for class, but I’m liking it a lot more than the other obligatory readings for my degree,” you tell him a small laugh. “Do you enjoy poetry?”

Eliot shrugs as he grabs the full bags. “Oh, ya know. Just the occasional piece. You have a good day now.”

You smile as he walks toward the exit, butterflies pounding in your stomach once more. “You too!”

God, you think as he disappears from eyeshot. You’ve got it bad, girl.

He comes in again, irregular in each way except for the fact he arrives. Sometimes he’s clean cut, standing straight as he takes his sweet time wandering the store – as if he has nowhere to be, no need to rush around.

On those days, he buys a lot of things. Duct tape, orange soda, hair ties, sour candy in all shapes and colors. He makes conversation, asking about the book you’re reading or what you’re listening to, asking about your classes when you wear a jacket embroidered with your university’s logo on the front. On those days, he waits a little – even when all his items are bagged and there’s no real reason for him to stay – picking up on anything that would give him another thread of conversation to pull at.

“Something new?” he asks when you dogear one of the first few pages of a poetry book your friend had lent you.

“Yup!” you perk up just at the sight of him, cheery now more than you had been the entirety of the day now that he’s arrived. “Told a friend of mine about the assignment I was working on the last time you were here, and she shoved this anthology into my hands.”

You like those days – you look forward to them each time you step through the large door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in large white letters that stand out against the incredibly depressing brown that’s been peeling since the day you interviewed here, spots covered sparsely by the maintenance guy who you’ve never seen. Those days are good, fun – they make you smile hours after he leaves and occupy your thoughts until you go to bed, sometimes even making it into the margins of your notebook when you’re zoning out in class.

Sometimes, though, he comes in nearly limping – at least one eye blackened and dark navy baseball cap pulled as far down his forehead as he can.

It scared you the first time, watching as he grunted with each step, every item he grabs from the shelves seeming like it pained him, his face scrunching into a wince each time he raises an arm above his ribs. You checked his items (bandages, ice packs, gauze, antifungal cream, a few first aid kits) with bated breath, terrified of making his mood worse.

It isn’t until you tell him the total, until you finally look up from your hands – that you finally look him in the eyes. They’re always warm like plate of freshly baked macaroni and cheese (and always make you feel just as gooey), but now appear to be clouded with a type of pain you can’t pin down. He doesn’t say much – or anything – as you bag his items, placing them gingerly into the paper bag as if it was an extension of him.

You try to keep a happy face throughout the entire ordeal, not wanting to push him in case what happened was particularly bad. Eliot gives you a similarly small, but earnest one in return – even if he barely hides the wince in his side as he does so.

But that was the first time things seemed a little off – your first time, specifically – and the others get easier as time passes.

At first, “easier” meant a return to days similar to the good ones – telling him things about your day as you ring up all his first-aid related items. He doesn’t respond with as much enthusiasm, doesn’t have the same witty banter – but gives you a small smile that you recognize nonetheless. But then, as the weeks bleed into months, you learn how to handle both the terrible days, the bad days, and the good days all the same.

It’s on one of the good days that he buys tampons, a piece of every kind of chocolate item you sell, and enough Acetaminophen to knock out a horse.

“Your girlfriend is very lucky,” you tell him, blushing as you bag the items. For a minute you think you’ve embarrassed him, crossed some line as a sickening silence grows between you two like mold on two-week old leftovers in a fridge that was turned off. It’s just as disgusting, too, which is why you’re so happy that he still gives you a small smile when you dare look up from where your scanner’s red line centers on the barcode of one of the tampon boxes.

“Nah, just,” Eliot’s plump lips look so kissable it makes your heart pick up. “A roommate, uh. She needs this. Her boyfriend is doing some game night thing and couldn’t pick it up. So I, uh. I got drafted.”

You give a little snort as you grab the receipt, smiling wide as you place it in the bag. “Well, your roommate is very lucky to have you.”

Eliot laughs as he grabs his stuff, cheeks heating up as he blushes. “Can I kidnap you for a little while so you can come remind her of that?”

In a rare moment of confidence, you lean forward and grin. “Is it kidnapping if I want it?”

The blush rages as he sputters a response, eyes downcast as he turns to leave. You get no witty response back, but the way he turns to wink at you as the automatic doors part is enough of a rebuttal for you to feel satisfied with your quip.

No matter what kind of mood Eliot is in, you look forward to his visits, watching and talking with him. Each evening you get ready for work you wondered if he would come in that night, if you would be able to tell him about the dumb thing this guy in one of your seminars said, or how you won an argument during bar crawl over the weekend using some of the random things he had taught you during the very conversations you now wish to have with him. It’s nice, the nicest thing you have in a long time – and somehow that doesn’t scare you, and somehow that makes you feel even better each time you see him.

But then “The Day” happens, and it changes everything.

The evening of “The Day” you woke up from your pre-work nap with this unexplainable feeling that something was going to go wrong. This feeling deep in the bottom of your stomach that you can’t quite place, one that makes the back of your knees sweat and where your ribs feel just a little tighter. Each and every sound – the cars that drive way too fast down your street, the creaking in your house, the dogs that bark obnoxiously – seem loudly, harsher than usual. When you sit up in bed when your alarm goes off it’s like you can feel the muscles in your back contract, feel the bones in your joints grind against each other. There’s some electricity in the air like when it’s right before a storm – only the sky is clear and your weather app doesn’t predict any rain until next week (and, even then, it’s only a drizzle).

At first you think it’s just a bad pain day; not bad enough to keep you home, or make you forget even the idea of doing anything besides groaning in pain in your bed and taking as many pain medications as your doctor says you’re able to. Still, it’s quite noticeable, and occupies your thoughts as you go through each part of your pre-work routine. Even as you shower, turn on your coffee pot, do the minimal make up required to make it look like you didn’t just roll out of bed or are some Victorian orphan plagued by tuberculosis and possibly a deep sadness embodied by the terrible weather that crashes outside their overcrowded London orphanage – you can’t seem to get rid of the proverbial dark cloud that settles itself between your brain and skull, clouding your thoughts and making your stomach hurt just a little.

It doesn’t get better when you get into work, either. There’s a tenseness in the air you can practically taste – electricity in the air that settles over your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straighter than the carefully constructed sales display of some B-list celebrity’s nail polish collection, the one you spent hours fussing over during one of your very rare day shifts. It somehow only gets worse when Eliot arrives, whistling some tune that normally would be wistful and happy, but given the context sounds like something straight from a horror movie trailer that invades your otherwise-sweet daydreams for weeks to come; one of those songs that everyone knows but no one knows the name of that sounds really creepy when played slowly over a clip of some old, beat-up doll being held by an adorable little blonde girl with black-out contacts in.

You don’t tell him to stop, but the tune does slow when he notices your tense state when he passes to get to the soft drink aisle. When he gives you a questioning look you just shrug, hoping he forgets (or finds it in himself not to ask) about it by the time he finds what he needs. Judging by the song, lack of list, and spring in his step – it’s a good day, one where he intends to meander around the store and grab whatever it is catches his attention. Today that appears to be anything with sugar, most notably soda in every color but orange.

At some point he finds his way closer to you – more specifically he finds his way to the chocolate aisle, which faces your register – and strikes up a conversation. It’s just small talk, and doesn’t do much to distract you from the twisting in your gut, but you appreciate his efforts nonetheless. The small talk just feels like a dead-end – a polite road to nowhere that feels pointless to engage in. Still, it’s Eliot, so you give half-hearted answers and ask half-hearted questions and hope he doesn’t press you too hard on your slightly-sour mood.

And, because it’s Eliot, he draws a few small laughs and a couple of tiny smiles and it’s…nice. It’s not the usual “Good Day,” but it’s not a bad one, either.

But then it happens. And it happens quick – all of it.

Three men, dressed head to toe in black, enter guns a blazing as if they own the place. They’re wearing masks over everywhere but their eyes, the thick, black material likely silencing their voices if they weren’t screaming at the top of their lungs.

They enter in an oddly-triangular formation – one you’d describe akin to the Charlie’s Angel’s post if you weren’t scared out of your fucking mind. One of them runs to the aisle where you keep cold medicine, the other ransacking the liquor aisle and shoving heavy glass bottles of your most expensive bottles of alcohol into the black duffel bag slung around his shoulder. The last one – the one you think is the leader – keeps his eye on you as he steps closer to where you are at the register.

It’s the scariest fucking thing to ever happen to you, and what occurs next happens too fast for you to describe.

You blink once and find that you’re staring down the barrel of a handgun that’s definitely loaded and definitely has the safety off. The end shakes just a little, as if the robber is nervous, and you wonder why he’s the one scared. Both of your hands are up in the air, elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle while sweat pools at your brow and your bottom lip trembles. It’s the most terrified you’ve ever been in your entire life, and if you had enough in your stomach you throw up, you totally would’ve.

But then – Eliot.

You’re screaming at him to stop, to get away and hide and what are you doing? They’ve got a gun! Get away! You could be hurt! Eliot!

But then you realize that, holy shit, he’s actually taking the guy down. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the face. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the gut. Holy shit, Eliot just disarmed that dude while punching him.

It’s only when the guy that targeted you is screaming in pain from a dislocated shoulder that the other two realize something’s up and come rushing towards the man that stands just in front of your register. You’d scream if you weren’t stunned – eyes not sure where to look as Eliot disarms them with the grace of a professional ballet dancer at the same fucking time. He’s fierce but controlled – not breaking any bones but definitely leaving some bruises as he knocks them to the ground and kicks their guns across the carpet.

It’s then – when the inferior robbers are writhing in pain on the ground – that he grabs the leader by the collar of his black hoodie and pulls the teenager’s wincing face close to Eliot’s raging one.

“I will give you one warning,” he hisses, teeth bared like an angered wolf as he spits. “one warning to leave this place and never come back. If this,” his left hand raises to gesture to you in all your petrified glory. “Nice lady tells me that you have returned to so much as buy a single stick of gum, I will track you down and find you and make sure you pay for the damage you’ve done here today. You got that?”

The still-masked teenager immediately nods furiously, eyes wide with terror and legs already kicking at the ground to leave.

Eliot gives a small, faux smile, and shoves the kid back down onto the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. “Good, now get the Hell out of here and don’t come back.”

Without hesitation, the would-be robbers scatter as fast as their damaged legs can carry them, clutching their bags to their chests as they rush to their crappy getaway van.

If you weren’t scared shitless you’d admit you’re a little turned on at the feat, especially as Eliot flips his hair from his face as he watches them speed away.

Your boss appears a few seconds later, apparently one more to watch from his safe room in the back than to interfere. Thank Heavens Eliot was here, you think. Facing those three kids on your own – even if they were, indeed, kids – makes your blood pressure spike once more.

“Should I call the cops?” he asks, looking at the wreckage around the store. The only silent alarm is located under the counter where the register is and, given your petrified state, you weren’t one to trip it.

Eliot just sighs and shakes his head, kicking a broken bottle of whiskey that for sure was going to stain the carpet. “No, they can’t do much – those kids probably don’t have a record and I don’t think you’ll get much out of ‘em if they do find the bastards. They’re young, broke, and I don’t know how much priority your case will be given.”

Your boss sighs, rubbing his face. It’s not as if they stole more than a few hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise, but being the victim of a robbery is still both tiring and rage-inducing – especially when someone like him has gone so long without incident. “But, I, what am I supposed to do? I just-“

Eliot grabs his wallet from his back pocket, reaching into it to fish out a small, professional-looking business card that he hands to your boss. “Call the number there come sun rise and tell them Eliot referred you. They’ll help you out with whatever you need.”

The man who signs your paychecks furrows his brow and reads the block print allowed. “Leverage, Incorporated? They can help me replace what I lost?”

Eliot nods, placing a comforting hand on your boss’ shoulder. “Everything.”

Immediately the man nods and steps away to go out the back exit, leaving you and Eliot in the center of it all.

It’s then – just as you’re alone – where the sun’s just coming up and the large windows in the shop allow its warm light to bath the both of you in a beautiful soft orange. There are no other customers there, and with your boss preoccupied with calming himself down, it really does feel like it’s just you and Eliot – just the two of you with the whole world still asleep around you. It’s nice, perfect.

He’s the one to break the silence, voice gruff as he flashes you a small, shy grin. “So, uh…you want to go for coffee?”

Your heart rams in your chest even louder than when you were staring the possibility of a gunshot wound to the face, the poor organ exhausted as your brain screams at you to accept his generous offer. It takes what feels like an eternity to muster up the courage to do so, but before you can Eliot’s already speaking once more.

“Not that you, uh,” he clears his throat. “Not that you should feel, uh, pressured, or anything. I just mean like, hey, you worked all night and just went through a pretty rough event, and you’re probably tired, and probably pretty hungry as well, and a coffee place just opened up a street away that I’ve heard good things about. I’ve wanted to try it out, for a while actually, and I wanted to, uh, see if I’d have the honor of you joining me…”

“Eliot,” you laugh as you step closer, placing your hand on his face to guide his eyes to yours. “Don’t be stupid. I’d love to go with you,” he smiles and it warms every bit of you. “Just let me grab my bag and clock out, I’ll meet you outside in a moment.”

He sputters through an “okay, sure, yeah,” before you both turn to leave – him out the front doors and you behind the large one your boss had just been hidden behind. Your hands shake just a little as you insert the little card into the dinosaur of a machine, the loud noise and sputtering sound it makes now white noise as you grab your purse and rejoin him outside.

When you arrive at the coffee shop (aptly named “The Bean Spot”) you order a caramel latte with a cheese Danish, Eliot getting a simple black coffee with cream along with a walnut muffin. You wait for your breakfast in relative silence, neither you nor Eliot sure what to say after such an event. When the food and drink are handed over to you, you find a spot tucked in the back with an excellent view of the whole place.

The coffee shop is nearly empty since it’s still so early in the morning – the only patrons coming in, getting their coffee, and zipping off to the next part of their day. It’s nice to be the only inert thing, the movements of the people around you providing a nice cover as they zip past, locking you and Eliot in your own little world as the world stretches its arms and prepares for another day of hustle and bustle.

By contrast, you and Eliot are wide awake, laughing as you swap horrible roommate stories and whatever else comes to mind. He asks about your degree but has enough class not to ask you about your graduation year (a rare feature of conversations these days), talking to you about all the books you’ve read and professors you’ve liked.

It’s odd – not bad, per say – but odd nonetheless, to be able to talk freely and openly and having him in front of you, within arm’s length as your knees barely touch under the small table. Seeing him in this space, a space more conducive to conversation and watching his hands as they pick at his blueberry scone and watching his mouth as the corners of his lips twist into a smile every so often and watching –

You blush at your own serial-killer-like thoughts, trying to suppress them with another sip of way too expensive but totally worth it coffee.

Eliot notices, because of course he does. “Hey, you alright?”

You nod, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. “Y-yeah, just-“

He smiles warmly, one hand moving to cradle your chin – to guide your downcast eyes to his. “It’s weird, seeing me in a new place, isn’t it?”

Once again, you nod. “It’s not that I don’t-“

“It’s okay,” his smile widens even as he now avoids your gaze, his hands moving to his lap as he fiddles with them. “It’s…I understand. Trust me, I get it.”

You exhale deeply, your shoulders falling a little. “I’ve thought a lot about this moment for, like, since you walked into the store for the first time…to have you here,” you gestured vaguely to the rest of the coffee shop, to the very few customers and baristas chatting about something you can’t hear and don’t care to pay attention to. “It’s…I don’t know. It’s not as if you’ve fallen short of expectations-“

Eliot gives a little chuckle, mumbling an “I sure hope so” with a glimmer in his eye that makes you want to jump on his lap and kiss him right there. Somehow, you find it in you to continue.

“It’s just super, super weird,” you tell him honestly. “And I don’t like it.”

The man in front of you leans forward, placing a hand over yours to calm you down.

“How about we get out of here,” Eliot murmurs, voice warm and thick like the caramel drizzle over your latte. “I have an espresso machine at my place, and could make you homemade baked goods a million times better than whatever you bought, and we can continue this in a space where the baristas don’t misspell my name on overpriced coffee.”

He gestures to the cup labeled Elliott, wincing as he does so. It makes you laugh, and you nod in agreement. Together you down the coffee and throw the empty cups along with the wrapping for your pastry away. It’s natural – the way the two of you move – as if you’ve known each other for a millennia, as if whatever it is between you two that’s formed is already as strong and sturdy as an oak tree.

Eliot places one of his large hands on the small of your back as you exit the cafe, thumbing at the fabric of your sweater as you wait to cross the street. It’s comforting – just a flash of the fire that he started for you back at the store a mere hours earlier, heat warming your blood from your toes and up your spine. As he guides you to his apartment his hand finds yours, his fingers fitting neatly next to yours as he points out parts of the city you’ve never slowed down enough to see.

You may not have known Eliot for very long, but even within that short amount of time (and even shorter conversations) he had become a safe house for you, one that you could easily make a home.

And, unbeknownst to the other person, the both of you intended on doing just that.

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer/reader #eliot spencer fanfiction #eliot spencer #leverage #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

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the walls have ears | Taehyung

→ summary: in hindsight, taehyung probably shouldn’t have told the paintings about his debilitating crush on you after he had (unknowingly) drunk some magically spiked pumpkin juice. after all, paintings don’t really have all that much going on, except getting excited over the occasional gossip or two. and well... news always travels fast when there’s magic involved.

{based on a prompt by @/alloftheprompts: “Character A tells a painting about their crush on Character B. The portrait spills their secret.”}

→ genre: hogwarts!au, fluff, humor → words: 5.6K → a/n: this is for the lovely @merriblazi who donated a couple ko-fis to fund my grocery bills lmao thank you so much!! also, i’m still accepting ko-fi comms until the end of august, so if you’d like something like this as well, feel free to drop a few ko-fis down my drain!! i’d love to write you all something!! (new banner was made by @jincherie ty girl ily)

The paintings at Hogwarts are all in high spirits today.

Taehyung notices this when he exits the Gryffindor common room, immediately being greeted by the Fat Lady’s cackles of excitement. He jumps up in surprise at her ear-splitting squeals, nearly knocking over a poor first-year student behind him. He shouts out an apology at the kid, but she has already scuttled off, spooked by the loud portrait. Honestly, Taehyung isn’t any better himself, turning back around to stare wide-eyed as the Fat Lady continues to point and giggle at him with her mouth stretched into a smirk.

Taehyung hazards a greeting. “Um, good morning?”

“Good morning indeed,” she singsongs, procuring a fan out of the many folds of her dress (from where exactly she had it stored, he tries not to think too deeply about). “Mister Kim, I’m sure you had quite an interesting evening the day before, did you not?”

Taehyung freezes immediately, his blood running cold at her words. Being a known prankster and rapscallion, Taehyung has grown to learn the importance of running at the first sign of trouble, despite how cowardly that might seem for a Gryffindor. The best way to continue having the pleasure of wreaking havoc is to choose your battles wisely, which is just a nice way of saying that he needs to scram before the authorities can catch him. He had learned all of this from the best, seeing as how his best friend happens to be a Slytherin.

He tries to think of what he had done the other night, but he comes up blank. He remembers being busy the entire afternoon trying to ask you on a date for the fourteenth time this month, only to no avail (as always). While others had already been deterred by intimidation alone, Taehyung remains hopeful that he will get the guts to talk to you eventually. After all, his mommy says he’s a handsome and charming boy who can sweep any girl off their feet, and his mommy has never lied to him before.

At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself these past few years of silently pining over you, but he digresses.

“I… I had an interesting evening?” Taehyung repeats quizzically, becoming more bewildered by the second. Due to the Fat Lady’s commotion, it seems to have caused a stir among the rest of the paintings, all of the nearby portraits peering over their frames to catch a good look at him. Taehyung can even see some of the more lethargic portraits waking up long enough to direct attentive gazes at him.

“Why of course!” The Fat Lady positively screams, clasping her hands together with a loud clap. “The castle is abuzz with excitement over your daring confession last night! Why, I could hardly contain my excitement for when you would awaken.” She flicks away her fan over her shoulder, accidentally hitting her neighboring portrait in the face. She scarely blinks at her neighbor’s barks of irritation.

Oh, jeez. It’s the crotchety portrait that everyone disliked. This isn’t good; no one could ever get the old fart to shut up once you got him going, and Taehyung knows better than anyone else how easy it is to get a rise out of him. After all, it was his favorite pastime.

“Watch where you flap those arms of yours, woman!” He shouts, bulbous features turning purple in mere seconds. The Scholar, or as Taehyung likes to call the Squalor, takes one of his many books from his desk, ready to hurl back at her.

Before he can even think of pulling back his shoulder, a stampede of finely dressed ladies comes rushing in out of nowhere, quickly subduing them by sheer number alone. There is a loud squabble as the ladies all corner him like a murder of multi-colored crows. At a closer glance, Taehyung recognizes them from one of the large paintings near the entrance to the Great Hall.

That was floors away. How had they rushed over so quickly? And for what reason?

“Oh hush, you simpering nerd!” One of the ladies snaps, grabbing the Fat Lady’s fallen fan and slapping the man in the face once more. The scholar sputters, at a loss for words for once in his life. Taehyung thanks the ladies internally, having always wanted to disfigure the bastard’s face ever since he called his yellow sunglasses unfashionable. What the hell did someone who died during the plague know anything about fashion?

“We came as soon as we heard, Lady Fat! Now, where is the boy that everyone’s been gossiping about – oh, my word!” Taehyung assumes it is the leader of the pack who gasps in surprise, her well-manicured finger outstretched as she waggles it at him. He can tell she’s the leader by the ostentatious crown on her head, complete with glittering jewels that he could scarcely tell the names of.

The Fat Lady moves to the side, allowing the women to enter her space until almost the entirety of her canvas was filled with nothing but powdered wigs and poofy skirts. Taehyung can hardly see her crown of vines with how many people were surrounding her.

Her voice sounds muffled when she replies, “For the hundredth time, my name is the Fat Lady, not Lady Fat. And yes Martha, it is him! His name is Taehyung, the one I’m certain who had spoken to Raphael the other night.”

Wait. Taehyung’s mouth drops, taken aback. This is certainly news to him! When had he spoken to Raphael? Who the hell was Raphael, even? Why did everyone seem to know more about his nightly activities than he did?

He doesn’t get to ask, however, as the ladies immediately begin to bombard him with a barrage of comments ranging from excitement to disappointment, no holds barred.

“Oh, it’s the cute Gryffindor boy with the long eyelashes! They would make a lovely couple indeed! I wonder if Raphael has already passed the message to her–”

“He’s the one? Surely not! I was hoping it was the cat-eyed boy with black hair instead. Wouldn’t he be a better match for her?”

“You must be crazy, Marie! This boy is clearly meant for her. My mother was a seer, and I can tell from a mile away that those two are meant to be soulmates–”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Taehyung cries out, anxious from all the chatter coming from all directions at once. He can feel the panic bubbling up, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He doesn’t even know where to start with all this! “Can everyone shut up for a second!”

Miraculously, all the portraits clam up at his request, still gazing upon him like he holds all the secrets to the world. Which, much to everyone’s disappointment, he does not.

The sudden disquiet unnerves him slightly, causing him to stutter in his speech. He swallows thickly, voice meek. “I-I… I’m a bit confused about all this. Can someone explain what everyone’s talking about? I just wanted to head down and get some breakfast.”

It feels like a hundred painted faces are staring back at him, and when Taehyung casts a furtive glance behind him, he sees that even the paintings from two staircases up are watching with rapt attention. Why was everyone so interested in him, all of a sudden? Not even his infamous dungbomb toilet prank got him this much notoriety. When he turns back to face the ladies, they all seem to be just as shocked as he is.

Lady Martha steps forward until she is almost taking up the entirety of the canvas, squinting at him dubiously. Her previously excited demeanor has soured greatly at his words. She tilts her head towards him, unimpressed. “Well? Are you not the boy with the crush on Lady Y/N? Have we sprinted across the entire castle just to find that the culprit of last night’s latest gossip had all been just another prank?”

“N-no, I – Wait. Did you just say–” Taehyung stops in the middle of his sentence to gape back at her, his ears feeling hot as his blood quickly races up to his face. “Did you just say ‘the boy with the crush on Y/N?’” He hisses the last part in a strangled whisper, snapping his head side to side to make sure no one else had heard. He is relieved to find that the only other people nearby do not seem to have heard their exchange, but he still waves his hands frantically to get all the portraits to lower their volume.

She raises her eyebrow at him, hip cocked to the side. “Yes? Had I misspoken? Had Raphael been lying to all of us once again?” She scoffs in exasperation, though it does not seem to be aimed at him. The rest of the ladies seem annoyed at this Raphael as well. “That’s just like him, too! We shouldn’t have trusted him again. That angel never did know how to shut his trap.”

The ladies make muted harrumphs of discontent, noses upturned in the air. Taehyung watches as a few of them begin to make their way back to their own canvas, but he needs to ask them one last thing before they leave. While he doesn’t remember ever speaking to a painting named Raphael, he still does not know how he had found about his crush on you in the first place.

He doesn’t know what he would do if you were to ever find out, even if it was just a rumor for now. This is not how he imagined he would finally tell you about his feelings; everything feels like a nightmare. He can already feel the apples of his tanned cheeks beginning to burn in embarrassment.

“Hold on, did you say an angel named Raphael said all of that stuff?” Taehyung asks hesitantly, sweat building up on the back of his neck. He can vaguely remember a fresco of some angels near the kitchens, but he isn’t quite sure. He never goes there unless he wants to snag some treats from the house elves, but he has started relying on Seokjin to do the food hauls for him these days. Never mind the fact that he had already gotten caught in the act thrice by you – ever the attentive prefect.

Oh, how he hated how much he loved you, despite the stick up your ass. That being said, no one was supposed to even know that he liked you, much less the entire painting population of Hogwarts. Not even Jimin knew, and that was saying something! How did this Raphael fellow find out when he had kept this secret deep inside his heart since the first day he had laid his eyes on you? How had he figured him out, unless Taehyung had been the one to tell him–

“Yes, the archangel Raphael near the kitchens.” Lady Martha nods, her sneer disfiguring her delicate features. “He said that a drunken boy with long lashes and dark brown hair had confessed his undying feelings for the rigid Lady Y/N the other night. Oh, how excited we were to hear the news!” Martha holds a hand to her chest, sighing dramatically. The remaining ladies chorus their sighs as well, one of them even fainting from grief.

The Fat Lady cranes her neck upwards, trying her best to speak above the fallen, wailing ladies. “Yes, quite. What a shame! When I heard from Lady Martha, who had heard from Lord Michael, who had heard from Sire Nicholas, who had heard from Professor Bang–”

“Wait, Professor Bang?” Taehyung mutters in disbelief, scarcely heard over the racket.

“–who had heard from Archangel Raphael that a boy with long eyelashes had been going on and on about his crush on a female prefect, I just knew it had to be you! Then, the Ladies of Commère discovered that the prefect was Miss Y/N, well… It was like a dream come true! We had all been hoping for her to find her prince sooner or later.”

“Her prince? What for?” Taehyung is kind of afraid to dive deeper into this mess, though he is too curious to let it slide. It isn’t like you’re short on suitors, despite how intimidating and uptight you are. It is part of the reason why he’s too shy to approach you in the first place, with how large his competition pool is.

“Well… She had been complaining to me during her nightly rounds about how lonely she has been feeling, ever since her best friend had started dating that oaf with a quaffle for a brain,” Lady Martha tuts, shaking her head pityingly.

Taehyung is familiar with that “oaf,” otherwise known as the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He admits that Jungkook isn’t the brightest boy, but he is a wickedly good player. Plus, Taehyung thinks he’s funny, especially after that incident when he had tried to snort pumpkin juice on a dare and consequently sprayed the entire wall with a myriad of fluids. (You had deducted points out of your own house for that, much to everyone else’s chagrin.)

Lady Martha continues, “She may seem like an independent woman, but I suppose all of us tend to get lonely during the night. And all the paintings love a good romance every once in a while, so we couldn’t help ourselves from jumping the gun a bit…”

Taehyung feels the dread begin to pile up like bricks in the pit of his stomach, reminding him of the time when he had eaten too much cauldron cakes in one go. He needs to go see Raphael as soon as possible and get to the bottom of this. He doesn’t remember speaking to him at all, which is what makes Taehyung the antsiest. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t quite remember what he did after dinner last night.

Somehow between now and then, he had managed to go to bed despite not knowing how or when. Taehyung had woken up this morning with a minor throbbing in the back of his head, but it was nothing to write home about.

At least that was what he thought. He was starting to second guess everything now.

He bows to the paintings, belatedly feeling a little odd for showing respect to inanimate objects. Regardless, the ladies appear to be delighted by his involuntary action, all of them cooing at his manners and wishing him a good breakfast as he scampers off towards the Great Hall.

When he arrives, the tables are still largely empty with how early he had risen, a rare occurrence in Taehyung’s everyday life. He doesn’t think he’s ever arrived to breakfast this early, but he blames the small headache from earlier that prematurely roused him from his slumber. Strange, he thinks as he trudges to his usual place, waiting for the rest of his friends and housemates to arrive. Everything about today has been nothing but a fever dream come to life.

As he spoons a large portion of porridge and fried sausages onto his plate (still piping hot and crisp, which is another weird and new prospect to Taehyung since the food was always a bit mushy by the time he turns up for breakfast), he replays the conversation with the Ladies of Commère.

Other than Raphael, there appear to be no other leads as to who might have found out about his secret admiration for you. The Fat Lady describes a boy with long lashes and brown hair to be the one who had conversed with him, which definitely seems to indicate it was Taehyung himself who had snitched.

An utterly preposterous thought. There is no way that he would ever admit that to some random passerby, certainly not while sober.

Taehyung pauses, spoon midway towards his open mouth. Bits of porridge drip over his lap as the sudden terrorizing thought flits through his mind. Had he been sober last night?

The ladies said the boy had been drunk when he had confessed. Taehyung didn’t drink alcohol, averse to the bitter taste. So how could he have..?

Taehyung rubs his temples frantically, his heart beating out of his chest as he tries again to remember what he had done right after dinner the previous evening. No matter how hard he racked his brain for information, he comes up blank every time.

Even if he had been drunk, do people really lose all their memories from just a sip or two? The only way he could have gotten drunk is if he had consumed it unknowingly, meaning someone must have spiked his food the other night. But who could have done such a thing?

The loud thud of a body barrelling right into the table forces Taehyung out of his reverie, nearly dislodging his head off his neck in the process. He yelps in surprise, before glaring at the new smiley intruder beside him.

The Slytherin grins cherubically, having the audacity to wink salaciously at him. “Good morning, Taehyungie! Surprised to see you up so early,” Jimin says, seating himself on the Gryffindor bench like he belongs there. With how often he visits his table, it’s easy for people to mistake him as his housemate. Even you and the rest of the prefects have stopped trying to get him to leave after their fifth year.

Taehyung groans. “It’s been a rough morning.”

“I can tell. You aren’t even eating any of the bacon,” Jimin whistles in surprise, casually heaping his own (stolen) plate. He gives Taehyung a proper once-over. “You feeling alright? You look kind of pale.”

“It’s…” Taehyung wavers, not sure what to reveal. He still doesn’t feel comfortable telling Jimin about his crush, but he thinks that if the entire population of Hogwarts might soon find out anyway, then his best friend might as well find out from the source himself. But first…

“Did you spike my dinner last night?”

“What?” Jimin laughs, but stops when he notices Taehyung’s serious expression. “Oh. You’re serious. Did you eat something funny yesterday?”

“I don’t remember eating anything weird except for the lamb chops and chicken and mashed potatoes and…” Taehyung trails off, realizing how much he eats during a meal. He looks down at his already half-devoured plate of what was once ten whole sausages before sighing dejectedly.

“It could have been anything, huh?” Jimin hums, rubbing his chin. “That’s weird though, because I don’t think I ate anything weird yesterday, and we ate pretty much the same stuff.”

“That’s the thing! I only realized my food might have been spiked this morning,” Taehyung grumbles. He pauses for a second, steeling himself before he spills his guts all over the shiny mahogany dining table. He breathes deeply, causing Jimin to watch him curiously from his right. Well, it’s now or never.

“What made you realize?” Jimin asks.

“You see, funny story…” Taehyung says, not at all amused by the tale he was about to tell. “This morning, I was assaulted by the Fat Lady and the Ladies of Commère. You know, the hoity-toity ladies near the entrance of the Great Hall? Anyway, they said something that made me rethink my entire existence and that maybe my memories aren’t as reliable as I thought.”

“What the hell are you even saying?” Jimin huffs, wagging his fork in his face. “Stop beating around the bush and say what you wanna say! What does this have to do with spiked food?”

“Basically… The ladies said I told one of the portraits about my crush on this certain someone, but the thing is, I would NEVER tell anyone about my crush on that someone, so the only way they could have known about my crush on that someone is if I had told them, but the thing is, I–”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jimin interrupts Taehyung’s rambling, barely trying to suppress his giggles as he appraises his panicking friend. “You told a portrait about your crush on Y/N? When did this happen?”

Taehyung makes a startled sound, practically screeching in horror at Jimin’s nonchalant declaration. He had said it in a way like it was a simple truth, like how the sky is blue and how feet are sexy.

“You knew?!”

“Dude, everyone knows.” Jimin hums, nodding his head sagely. He snags one of the sausages off of Taehyung’s plate, even though he could have gotten a fresh one from the many other platters instead. He chews as he says, “Well admittedly, I’ve always known. Everyone else only just found out this morning as we entered the Great Hall. The hoity-toity ladies at the entrance were telling anyone who’d listen.”

“The ladies were–?” Taehyung stammers, mouth moving too quickly for his brain to catch up. “But I told them it wasn’t me!”

“Well, too late for that now,” Jimin shrugs, taking another one of Taehyung’s sausages. At this point, he was only doing it to make Taehyung’s day worse. “Apparently, Raphael the Archangel swore that it was you who had confessed about your crush on Y/N, and angels don’t just go around swearing, you know? Not that I know anything about Muggle religion, but also–”

“Oh Merlin, I think I’m going to be sick,” Taehyung says, slamming his head into his plate with the remaining three sausages. Jimin whines, lamenting the fate of his fallen riches.

“My sausages!”

“My love life!” Taehyung cries out, lifting his head and letting the greasy remains of his breakfast drip down his forehead.

Jimin is the first to recover from their respective meltdowns, using a finger to wipe some of the oil from his friend’s face and licking it with relish. “Damn, I love sausages. So, as I was saying… Why did you go and tell that portrait about your crush? Is that why you think you got spiked last night?”

Taehyung chokes out a sob, signaling his agreement.

“Oh shit, what if someone slipped Veritaserum in your pumpkin juice? But who?” Jimin wonders aloud, but it’s hard to narrow it down to just about anyone. Taehyung is pretty likable even amongst the most prickly students, so it will be difficult to pinpoint anyone who might have some personal vendetta against him. Then again, there are a couple of pranksters who come to mind…

“It doesn’t even matter who did it at this point. Y/N is going to come through those doors any moment and she’s just gonna know that I’m a fucking loser who spills his deepest infatuations to some random painting that I don’t even remember speaking to!”

“That is pretty lame,” Jimin says, not the least bit sympathetic. In his honest opinion, he feels like he should be thankful to whoever spiked his friend’s drink last night. Pining never did look good on Taehyung, despite all his natural handsomeness. If he had to catch him staring at you with that lovestruck look again, Jimin might as well have snitched sooner or later.

“Do you think I have time to go stop them from announcing to the world that I’m a loser with a huge boner for Y/N?” Taehyung is already rising to his feet, wiping the remaining grease from his skin as best as he can. He only smears it around some more, giving himself a blinding sheen. Somehow, he makes it work.

Jimin looks to his watch. “She usually comes in around five minutes before 8 AM, so maybe you’ll have some time before–”

He has spoken too soon. Lo and behold, you enter the hall with loud, purposeful strides, the entirety of your neck to your forehead flushed an endearing shade of red. You look absolutely mortified. Taehyung can say that he’s feeling the same, if not worse.

You pass by Taehyung in a blur, your gaze twitching towards him for a slight second before you are back to walking straight ahead with your head bowed slightly. Your best friend and Jungkook enter the hall soon after, both of whom were giggling raucously in your wake. The three of you slide into your usual seats a few spaces away from him, your eyes trained so fiercely onto your eggs that Taehyung is afraid that they might burst into flames.

Jimin looks from you to Taehyung, a smirk on his face. “You think she heard?”

The day continues onwards, filled with lots of staring and whispering. Taehyung can’t go from class to class without at least one person slapping him on the back in solidarity or others glaring at him out of contempt and jealousy. Either way, Taehyung isn’t sure whether he likes this type of attention or not.

Being hooted and cursed at for pulling off a fantastic joke? That, he could live with. Being the center of an ongoing cheesy romantic drama? This type of situation is a new world entirely.

The entire day is a whirlwind as he goes from class to class, not even getting to sneak off once to go and search for the ever elusive Raphael. Every time he tries to even look the other direction, his professors seem to be a step ahead of him, snapping at him to stay focused. Judging by the knowing smirks on their lips, they must have heard about the news as well, except they must be under the impression that he was trying to get away and search for you.

Oh, how wrong they are. He doesn’t even know what he would say if he saw you right now.

Luckily (or unluckily) for him, he doesn’t see you that often for the remainder of the day, except for one occasion when he passes you on the way to Potions. You aren’t with your best friend for once, but your eyes are still trained to the floor like they were this morning. Your usual pristine posture is gone, replaced by this timid girl who jumps up in surprise at the slightest bit of chatter. You don’t even scold a second-year for loosening his tie, and that honestly worried Taehyung more than anything else.

Were you embarrassed by him? He isn’t all that surprised that his affections were left unreciprocated – he’s long since accepted that his feelings will always remain one-sided. After all, with how often you like to reprimand him, you must only think of him as some loser seeking attention. In fact, he only ever plans his pranks so that you might be the one to catch him, like some misbehaving child who longs for the love of his absent parents.

Not that he thinks you’re like a mom to him, but then again… You’d be a great mom, but only if he gets to be the dad.

Wow. That went waaaay out of bounds than he was originally going for, but he digresses.

Still, he is a little hurt being ignored by you. Could he at least hope for a proper rejection? Just so he doesn’t have to keep having to speculating his whole life and wondering about what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Oh, how he loathes what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. They are worse than losing an entire femur, in his opinion (and yes, he has lost a femur once. Luckily, they found it in the women’s bathroom, for some reason.)

He can’t blame you entirely though, since it must be hard on your part as well. He doesn’t ever remember seeing you this flustered in, well… Ever.

The afternoon winds down and classes end as quickly as they come. Dinner arrives once more, and Taehyung has more presence of mind to check what he eats before they even touch his lips. For safety reasons, he feeds his portions to Jimin first, just so if he gets spiked with truth serum again, at least the two of them could be idiots together.

He allows Jimin to lead most of the conversation, still not really feeling like everything’s fine despite his friend’s best attempts at lightening the mood. He did just get his heartbroken for the first time, after all. He’s surprised he hasn’t started bawling his eyes out in front of the entire school yet.

Just a few more minutes and I can cry all I want in the safety of my bedroom, Taehyung thinks to himself, feeling even shittier about how excited he is to spend the entire evening soaking his pillow with tears. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

He is in the process of feeding a spoonful of peas into Jimin’s open mouth when he feels a soft tap on his shoulder, breaking him from his trance. He is in the process of telling the person that he’s not in the mood, but the words die in his throat the moment he turns and discovers the identity of the sudden visitor.

It’s you.

It’s you, with your hands wringing the edges of your sweater and the most endearingly rosy tint on your soft cheeks. He feels his heart start pounding automatically, just as it always has whenever he’s near you. He thinks the whole school has stopped talking with how silent the Great Hall has become, everyone itching to try and listen to your exchange.

Perhaps you had anticipated this type of scenario and didn’t want anyone to overhear, which is why you have already prepared a note beforehand, inked with your signature neat scrawl. You slip the small piece of parchment into his palm, folding his fingers over it gently. You bow your head awkwardly, reminding Taehyung of his similar gesture from earlier. You scurry away back to your seat, hands cupping your cheeks to cool yourself down.

Taehyung can’t see himself right now, but he thinks he might be even redder than you are, if that is even possible. Jimin, like the nosey bastard that he is, rips the note out of his hand and reads it before he can even process the last five minutes, guffawing loudly at what he finds.

“Guess you got a date later at the Astronomy Tower,” he says, shaking Taehyung’s hand in mock congratulations.

Well, at least he’ll have the stars to look at when he inevitably gets his heart crushed for real this time.

He doesn’t get his heart crushed. At least, not immediately. In fact, he thinks he might be on cloud nine right now as he sees you waiting for him, a small smile on your lips.

“Taehyung, I… really didn’t expect this from you. At all.” You start speaking the moment you hear him reach the top of the stairs, still slightly out of breath from the climb up. He rushes over to you immediately, letting the breeze cool his sweaty face.

“You didn’t… expect it?”

“Well, I mean! You’re always so…” You trail off, your mouth doing this weird thing where you look like you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“A fucking little bastard?” Taehyung laughs when he sees you start to backtrack, stammering all the while.

“N-no! Well, you sorta are… But in the cutest way… possible?” You say the last part like a question, almost helplessly. You wave your hands wildly, adorable despite being frustrated. “I mean! It’s like! I scold you, but it’s my job, you know? But it’s not because I want to do it? Do you get what I mean? Ugh, I’m so awkward I hate this!”

“You think… I’m cute?” Taehyung lets himself smile a little, and it seems to make you even more flustered.

“Have you not seen yourself? Of course you are! I can’t believe that you even have a crush on me–” You stop yourself, slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “I-I… I know it’s just a rumor and everything, and I don’t want to assume there’s any basis because oh my Merlin I’m never the type to listen to gossip and I don’t want you to think that I’m sort of–”

“What if it isn’t a rumor, though?” Taehyung has never felt this emboldened in his life, toeing the line of danger so closely that he can feel the electricity rush through his veins.

On the otherhand, you look completely baffled, as if the thought never crossed your mind before this moment. “What do you mean? Are you saying that…”

“That I like you, for real? Maybe I am,” Taehyung says, feeling cheekier the more he talks. It might just be the night sky or the wind against his cheeks, or maybe it’s the way your eyes are reflecting the stars like a mirror, but he feels like there is magic in the air. It’s cheesy, it’s cliché, but it’s everything he imagined it would be like.

He’s spent many daydreams thinking about this, and he isn’t going to let his fear pull him under. Not now, not when he can feel the string pulling the two of you together tighten with every second.

“If the rumors were true, what would you say?” Taehyung whispers, lacing his fingers through yours. Your hands shake imperceptibly, but your stare is as stagnant as the affection he feels for you. What he has always felt for you.

When you respond, Taehyung swears the whole world could hear his heart fluttering for you.

Somewhere in the Slytherin dungeons, Jimin is smiling to himself in the comfort of his own bed, turning in early for the night. It truly had been a good investment to secretly start dating a seventh-year potions prodigy over the summer. What is even better is that the Potions professor never did remember to lock his Veritaserum ingredients with nothing more than a simple deadbolt.

He snuggles himself deeper into his pillow, snickering softly. Good job, Yoongi.

All is fucking well.

#btsboulangerie #btsguild #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #hogwarts!au #kim taehyung #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagines #taehyung fluff #bangtan #bts fanfic

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bibbykins · 5 years

Text

Scopophilic Affection (M)

Here it is! At last! I have had a rough couple of weeks. My roommate left me and my gf with the rest of the rent without any notice (yikes, I know. Kids, don’t break the lease, it’s shitty) soooo I’m going to plug my ko-fi below. Anything helps and would be greatly appreciated. Either way, donation or not, I hope you thoroughly enjoy and know that my ask box is open!

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: Voyeurism, choking, obsessives themes, yandere

Summary: Scopophilia is a more dignified way to define voyeurism, something Seokjin had no intention of partaking in until he came across your live stream. Seokjin is a dignified man, but never in his life had he felt so depraved watching you smile and work like it was his profession, unable to reach through the screen and make you his. Unable to tell you how much he loves to watch you because you have no idea you’re live stream even exists. He can’t tell you how hypnotizing you are without the glaring controversy of him watching your hacked-into webcam, both as a human and director in the computer science division of the company he is a board member of. Nevertheless, you were his very guilty utmost pleasure.

A beige wall with the blandest accents he’s ever seen with a sketchy cream color. The kitchen appliances were conformity white with rust whispering its way out from under the oven. The toaster was melted on one side and he couldn’t help but wonder how. The microwave was in slightly better shape but the stains seemed to still hold the screams of food from the 1990s. The carpet was somewhere between the beige walls and the mahogany table and looked about as comfortable as sandpaper.

This would not do at all.

Even with the personality shining through the subpar living space, it was just not suitable. Not for much longer.

Jin was a man of exquisite taste. This, among his impeccable beauty and breathtaking aura, was some of his best-known traits. He was the sweetest dream everyone on campus would ever have the privilege to even catch a moment of. He was the Director of Software Development within the largest tech company in the country. He came from money and yet made more than enough of his own all while juggling graduate school. Beyond his professional talents, he was a natural virtuoso and musician. With fans from all sides of his life, it would come to no shock that he was a picky man.

Ever the kindest member of the campus princes, he opted for an aura of stoic professionalism. He exchanged pleasantries and engaged in his fair share of banter with people beyond his close-knit group of Adonis-like men. However, he had a strict limit on how much he could take of people he didn’t care about.

He had everything he wanted and it was nearing time for him broaden his capacity beyond his close family and six friends by just one person. The pool was exceptionally lengthy considering his father’s very own Cinderella story and his parents’ overall good nature. And yet, nobody was fit to be his. Nobody he met even gave him anything to think about beyond their pleasantries. He would not settle for good enough, they had to be perfect. They had to be someone entertaining, someone, without such an evident facade, and even then, someone worthwhile behind that facade. Maybe he had trust issues, or maybe he knew how much one could hide in public.

While a man of exquisite taste, it was also… particular to say the least. Kim Seokjin was not built to marry these nice girls his parents set him up with from time to time, he was built for someone much greater. He had a taste for the more sinister sides that he seldom was able to properly explore with others. Kinky is a word one could use, but he believed adventurous encapsulated his preferences more eloquently. He took pleasure in spoiling someone with all he could offer as they spoiled him with their body. Empty hands begin to ache after some time. He was longing for something to grip other than himself on more irritable nights. He had found previous sexual partners who suited him just fine until they stepped out of the threshold from the bedroom. Vice versa, he had also been on perfectly good dates but with terribly bland sex.

It was on one of the nights after a mind-numbing date that he threw himself into work whilst listening to the background noise of tech reports. All was fine until there was talk of a hard to reach website that allowed patrons paid access to people who “consented” to 24-hour streams of their lives via laptop and the highest payer owns who can view that particular person. Call it morbid curiosity or his voyeuristic side making an appearance, Jin found himself on the website with ease and scrolling past a ton of stranger’s faces. The teaser clips showed thirty seconds of the past day.

Jin doubted the website would be up for much longer due to its legal gray area of filming people without informed consent. It seemed the website operated on a one-click user agreement to a couple of separate websites they controlled. It didn’t take a genius to see these people had no idea of their streams. On each profile, it had general demographics, the times that person was in frame, if they ever changed on camera, and even if they performed sexual acts for an audience they had no idea about. Jin felt some remorse as he scrolled from victim to victim, but something happened when he came across a bland beige wall behind an interesting girl.

Sure, he had seen many beautiful women but none of them were shown sitting in front of the camera and so adorably pouting at the camera for the entire thirty-second clip, occasional huffs of irritation coming from your plush lips. It awoke some kind of curiosity he could not understand but wanted to satiate. Were you reading emails? Had you gotten a bad grade? Were you watching a frustrating film? It seemed you were a college student but spent your nights at home. He figured you worked full time while not at school and used that as an explanation for your socially inactive life but deprived sleep schedule. Against his better judgment, Jin gained full reign over your stream, making it exclusively for him.

He never quite cared for sharing.

Just like that, there you were, in a large shirt and shorts as you stared at the laptop with a blank face. It went on like this and Jin began to feel silly that he made such a rash move to violate your privacy like this, not to mention the fact that he spent such a grandiose amount of money just to stare at a girl. This was obviously a mistake. He should just turn off his computer- you began to laugh and just like that, Jin was enchanted. Maybe it was the fact that you laughed so wholeheartedly despite being alone or just that you were your true self at this very moment. He had unrestricted access to you like this. He wondered what you were watching. Against his better judgment, he wondered if he could make you laugh like that.

Your phone rang, making you jump ever so slightly. Jin smiled at this, noting how easily startled you were and the way your eyes looked so kind after being broken from the trance your laptop had you in. He found himself holding his breath as you pressed the phone to your ear, waiting to hear how you sound, “Hello?”

You paused the movie you had been watching as you waited for your cousin’s girlfriend, Jaelin, to speak, “Y/n! Where are you?!” The background was loud and she was evidently drunk.

You rolled your eyes, “At home, where else?” This was a common occurrence, and usually, you would not entertain her drunk-dials, but you figured hearing another human’s voice today wouldn’t hurt.

“You should meet me! There’s a ton of parties tonight!” She screamed and you flinched at the volume her mic had to endure.

“I have this screenplay to annotate and I’m leading the stage tricks seminar in a week to practice so…” You trailed off, holding up your finished and annotated screenplay before shrugging.

“People are going to that? Seriously?” You stood corrected by yourself as a sting hit your confidence. This human’s voice was indeed beginning to hurt you.

“Professor Tarbot is having the freshman attend it so, yes, people are going to my seminar, so…” You trailed off as you heard your cousin’s voice in the background, reminding Jaelin that you don’t need to go out before the call went dead, “Lovely.” You muttered before pressing play on the movie. You were always the black sheep of the family. If familial love was kickball, you were absolutely picked last. Despite this, when you moved out as soon as you could to pursue your dreams, your family was appalled that you would leave your own flesh and blood.

Your smile noticeably died with the phone call and Jin couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened. He missed your smile already. You looked down at your phone for a while before your lip begin to quiver ever so slightly and Jin felt his stomach churn.

“No, no, no.” You fanned your face before looking to the ceiling, “None of that, crybaby.” You cursed before sighing out and looking forward again, “Work on the seminar.”

So, you were a fine arts major of some sort. Jin thought about this as he watched you get ready for bed and eventually fall asleep in front of the laptop you took everywhere. By the end of the night, he had just about a full apartment tour. He shook off this new feeling in his chest before closing his laptop.

The week went on with Jin’s and your nightly routine remaining the same. He did his work, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. Except, he had you playing in the background. You, on the other hand, would write, procrastinate, brush your teeth in the messiest way, and return to either schoolwork or some show before falling asleep, usually at your desk or on your bed in front of your computer.

He certainly was not proud of how you would excite him in ways other women just… couldn’t. It was on one of his more irritable nights that he focused all of his attention on you. You were just watching a movie, nothing too crazy. Even so, Jin’s skin was set ablaze at the way your floral underwear was poking out as you sat on your bed with your knees up. Without fully realizing it, he began palming himself through his sweatpants.

He groaned out as you spread your knees to sit more comfortably. You leaned back and he could almost make out what your sex looked like. Your underwear was thin, so thin. You would surely soak through them if you let him have you.

“Y/n.” He breathed through clenched teeth as you stretched. You were goggling a little at the movie, taunting him almost. He cursed as his hand sped up, “Fuck, baby.” He moaned and when you simply gasped at something Jin could not see with his eyes screwed shut as he chased his high, he went over the edge. He moaned your name out like a disciple to his savior, like you were his light at the end of it all. The experience itself was nothing less than religious and an absolute breakthrough that Jin had been trying to avoid for a long time.

From then on, Jin had been watching you under a new lens. You were no longer a morbid curiosity of his, you were the object of all this affection he never felt such an immense need to release.

“What’s up, Jae?” You answered the phone after brushing your teeth, putting her on speaker, “A little early to be drinking, no?”

“Y/n, did you hear about the ArtCast scandal?!” You jumped at her volume as you applied your skincare products.

“ArtCast? I haven’t used the site since I signed up, what happened?” Jin tensed, already knowing what the female on the phone call meant.

“Get a new laptop, now!” Jaelin screeched and you looked at your phone with bewilderment, “They have been sharing user info and hacked into laptop cams for creeps to watch on the dark web!”

Jin hardly considered himself a creep. His actions were creepy, but he was not a creep, just a curious soul. He fought the urge to try and reason with you by finding your contact information. Although the idea was scrapped since that would certainly not help his case.

You rolled your eyes at this, “I doubt anyone wants to see me laze around and edit-”

“THIS IS SERIOUS!” You flinched at this.

“And I seriously don’t have any money to get a whole new laptop and I kinda need my webcam for work so,” You looked dead at the camera, eyes boring into Seokjin’s form, “Hi Mr. Laptop Man, if you have some spare money my PayPal is-”

“WHY DON’T YOU ASK YOUR FAMILY? I’M NOT KIDDING.”

Your eye twitched, “Don’t yell at me.” You seethed, “If they won’t pay for my school or even a meal, what makes you think they would buy me a laptop?” The pain was terribly evident on your face and your lip quivered, “Face it, Jae, you took my place and you feel bad, so that’s the only reason you even talk to me.”

“Y/n…” Her voice was softer this time and Jin watched a tear fall down your face and felt his heart clench. He didn’t care who your family was, all you would need is him soon enough.

“And I appreciate it, even if it is pity-based, but don’t pretend like they care about me.” You huffed, wiping your tears, “Mr. Laptop Man must think I’m so dumb.” You scoffed and Jin noticed the way your features twisted from anger to pain and melancholy. There was evidently some deep-rooted pain when it came to your family

You were isolated from them. This past week, Jin gathered that you were eccentric and not afraid to make a fool of yourself or put yourself out there. He now understood it was because your family must have degraded you to such a degree, you eventually began to take it in stride.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to…”

You frowned as Jin wondered why you felt any remorse for this person, “No, I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” You sighed and glanced at yourself in the mirror and poked at your eye bags, “I’ll catch you later, okay?” You closed your eyes, “Have fun on the trip. Give everyone a hug for me.”

“You could come-”

You clenched your fists against the counter, “Jae… don’t.” You breathed, “I’ll talk to you later.” You quipped before hanging up the phone, “Ugh, I probably sounded like such a bitch.” You combed your fingers through your hair, tugging at the roots slightly before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Your fingers slowly uncurled themselves and you robotically placed them at your sides, “No, none of that.”

It was evident that was a coping mechanism, a way to express your pain and insecurity. He imagined it was more than likely much worse before. This made his fist clench. Must he protect from everything, including yourself?

He scoffed at himself. He didn’t even know where you were in the world. He was lucky that he even understood your native tongue. He was also lucky that you spoke Korean on occasions. This made the odds of you living even remotely near him better, but not definite.

Why was he even doing this? Why was he watching you and fantasizing about you when you had no idea who he was and he had no idea where you were? Suddenly, he felt terribly ridiculous. He had spent every night this past week just watching you without your consent, dreaming about you, and imagining this entire life with you.

With a heavy heart, he waited for you to be out of frame before exiting your stream. He effectively wiped it off the website, he figured it was the least he could do to atone for the hours he spent watching it.

Jin rubbed his hands over his hands in frustration. This sexual and romantic solitude seemed to be really getting to his head. Tomorrow was a new day and he had to seriously consider finding someone as perfect as you and fast.

Or at least someone who could pretend was as perfect as you for a night.

The next morning went on as usual. He got up, went to work, and finally, attended school. His classes went on and eventually, he was in the courtyard with the same people as always.

“Dove, would you hand me the water bottle?” Taehyung mused to his girlfriend as he laid his form between her legs as she sat on the table. She handed him the water bottle and he kissed her hand as he retrieved it from her.

Jin rolled his eyes as he sat next to her, “And just when I thought I couldn’t feel any lonelier.” He groaned out.

“It’ll come when you least expect it.” She turned to him with a short giggle, “Tae just swept me off my feet just like that.” She snapped to indicate how sudden.

“It’s all about timing, my friend,” Taehyung spoke blissfully as his girlfriend combed through his hair.

“Yeah, look at my little Odette and I.” Jimin nuzzled into the neck of his girlfriend.

“Not helping the whole loneliness feeling for Jin, babe.” She grunted as she pushed his head away, “But he is right, he found the right time to fuck my brains out and now it’s a forever thing.” Her crude language made Jimin smirk a bit.

“Same boat, Jin.” Yoongi sighed, “We’ll get there.” He spoke before putting his headphones back in.

Jin nodded, used to hearing and seeing the same things. He looked out around the campus before heaving himself off the table, “I’m gonna get a soda, anyone want anything from the vending machine?“ When everyone shook their heads, he headed out onto the path to the Arts building.

It was outside the building that he saw a large gathering of some freshman intro class. He shrugged it off until he heard an eerily familiar voice.

“Okay, so that puts the whole hand through the coke can effect to rest.” Your voice was playful and melodic, “Now, for my final act, pun intended.” Jin whipped his head around as you beamed among the genuinely entertained class, “The infamous stage kiss!” You proclaimed as a rustle came about the crowd, “Yes, mumble, mumble, groan, groan. I know, but it’s a basic skill and as an intro class, you need to know them.”

Jin didn’t know if he was dreaming or not. Even if he was, he’d like for it to stay that way if it meant you were here. You were more than he imagined. You were all he could ever imagine for this past week. You were right there.

“Now, I need a volunteer.” A myriad of male and female hands went up much too enthusiastically for Jin’s taste. You chuckled, “Flattering, but I need someone above my age.” Hands went down, but not enough, “I will check ID, kids.” All the hands went down, but some unknown force made Jin’s hand go up, “I see one hand back there, so come on up!” You chirped and Jin made his way to the makeshift stage.

He found himself surprised for one of very few times in his life. What the fuck was going on? How were you here and in front of him? Was this even real?

To say your heart fell out of your mouth would be a gross understatement. Kim Seokjin was sauntering up to you, “Well, I don’t think you’re in this class.” You mused softly as he made his way to you.

He gave you a small wink and you would’ve squealed if you didn’t have self-respect, “Y/n, right?” He more so stated as he shook your hand.

You nodded with an evident gulp, “Kim Seokjin, our very own campus prince!” You clapped along with the rest of a suddenly envious class, “Okay so there are a couple ways to do a stage kiss. This can be done a couple different ways.” You explained and turned to Jin, “What is most important, though, is that your partner is comfortable with whatever you decide on, which goes for every aspect of life, my dears.” You winked at the crowd, “Now, are you okay with getting close to my face and me touching your face?” Jin smiled before nodding.

You were clearly in your element and it was mesmerizing. You had a passion for theatre and entertaining a crowd. This would be fine with Jin so long as the world knew it was his hand you’d be taking the moment you stepped off stage. You would give anything to be happy, this included your family’s support.

“Okay, so the typical way is the old fashioned way of covering your partner’s face with yours or vice versa.” You talked animatedly with your hands as your grasped Jin’s wrist and led him to the makeshift wall you had, “You have the regular kabedon way.” You moved to put his hand beside your hand, but Jin took initiative, making you jump, “A-And then the partner, or you, would close in at an angle and…BAM!” You giggled as Jin was brought to a halt leaning in, “A kiss.” You stared at Jin’s face for a while before breaking the spell with a sheepish smile, “Okay, so time is running thin, so, I’ll show you the thumb kiss.” You were so cheerful as you turned to Jin, “Now what you do is slide your hand behind their hair all romantic-like.” You went to bring your hand up to Jin’s face, but he took initiative making you jump as his hand cradled your face ever so softly, “And-uh- place your thumb on their mouth, and tilt ever so slightly, and…” You tilted your head up and Jin took this as the signal to bring his lips to yours softly, internally cursing his own thumb.

“BAM!” Jin chuckled, “A kiss.”

You giggled as you both broke away and Jin basked in the sound, “Alrighty, that’s our time! Thank you for being so responsive!” You beamed as the class dispersed with returning smiles. You turned to Jin, “And thank you, kind sir.”

“I can be quite the thespian if you want me to.” He was flirting, he was just hoping you knew he was.

“Quit trying to make me blush.” You chided with a playful smile, “It’s a felony to make me flustered, it’s a whole mess.”

Jin felt like this was an out of body experience. He wanted to pinch himself just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming about you as he had this entire week. Everything felt so natural with you. There was no facade or fake laughter. There was just you and him.

“As penance for my crime, I’ll help you clean up.” He smiled as you and you gave him a toothy grin.

He helped you pack up your random props and insisted on giving you a ride home, “There’s no way I’m gonna let you ride the bus with all of this.” Jin was adamant.

“I really don’t live far, it’s why I don’t take my car most of the time.” You tried to reason.

“Which is why it’s no problem for me to drive you.” Jin shot back and you huffed, giving a pout he knew all too well.

“Promise you won’t turn out to be some murderer?” You spoke through puffed out lips that he wished to place his own on.

He smiled warmly at you, “Promise, although my jokes are killer.”

You burst into a fit of melodious giggles as you shook your head, “Yeah, no way you’re a murderer, dork.”

The walk to his car was filled with stupid jokes and goofy laughing as if you had known each other for years. You basked in the warmth he provided you in such a short amount of time, and yet it far exceeded what your family supplied you. Maybe you didn’t have to get accustomed to loneliness if Jin was around. He made you feel valued, and you had heard he was kind, but you never knew just how kind. Was he like this with everyone? Or could he possibly like someone like you? Even just as a friend. At this rate, anything worked.

With this in mind, you turned to him, “So, are you gonna tell me how you knew who I was?”

“Well, that’s a loaded question.” Jin sighed out, debating on telling you some semblance of the truth, “Have you heard of the ArtCast scandal?”

“Oh, yeah, the whole thing with- Oh no.” You stopped walking, “Are you telling me that-”

“It’s a long story.” Jin smiled sheepishly at you, “I didn’t see anything intrusive or anything but-”

There was a lot to unpack in that exchange. On one hand, Jin had seen you in your most private area of existence, but you were never quite good at being angry about things. At the end of the day, you felt like it was your fault you were on there and you doubted Jin made a habit of dark web encounters. You reminded yourself he was a computer science major… or was it computer security? You’d really hate to make things awkward by being angry. Even so, were you angry? Were you this starved for a companion?

He stopped when you began laughing, “Man, I need to read User Agreements, that’s embarrassing.” You shrugged and Jin was taken aback by your calmness, “You must think I’m such a dweeb.”

“You’re not… creeped out?” Jin sped up to catch up to you.

You just offered a shrug, “All I do is cry and watch videos, so it’s not a big deal.” You chortled, “No use in dwelling on it, I got enough to dwell on.”

Jin felt a huge weight lift off of his chest as you went along your merry way with him. On one hand, you had no self-preservation skills, but you also had no hatred in your heart for anyone. This was enough to keep him tethered to you, and no longer the idea of you. You were nothing like him with your rose-colored glasses that you viewed the world with. You were much too delicate of a flower to be alone, vulnerable.

“You are one of a kind, y/n.” Jin mused and you felt your face heat.

“As are you, Seokjin.” Jin caught the extra skip in your step, “I’d like to see more of you.”

“And I, you.” Jin winked at you.

—-

When Jin pulled into your apartment complex he shuddered at the architecture, or lack thereof, “Terrible isn’t it?” You hummed.

“It's… not that bad…” Jin gave you an uneasy smile and you rolled your eyes, “Close to campus…”

“Well excuse me, sugar daddy, not all of us can afford a high rise.” You stuck your tongue out at him, but he was too focused on how inviting your mouth looked to him.

“Stick your tongue out like that,” He leaned closer to you in a half-joking manner, “And I’ll bite it.” He threatened, which only furthered your grin and made your nerves come alive.

“Kinky.” You leaned closer to him and suddenly the atmosphere in the car became much heavier with your tone, and Jin went to grasp your chin, the heat that pooled in between your legs when he did so made you gasp softly, “I dig it.” You breathed and that was all it took for Jin’s resolve to break.

Before he could make the move, you smashed your lips onto his. He responded immediately, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer. The kiss was everything either of you could have wanted despite how unbelievably sloppy it was. Your tongues soon intertwined and Jin went to your waist to pull you from the passenger seat to his lap. Somehow, you managed to do so despite the difficulty that came with keeping your lips connected while you did so.

“Your lips are so fucking soft.” You hummed against his mouth before going to his neck, “Your skin too.” You smiled against it.

He groaned when you began to shyly suck on top of his jugular, “Fuck, good girl.” He moaned out before you ground your hips against his at the praise. He then grasped the back of your hair, accidentally pulling a little harder than intended to bring your face back to his. He was ready to apologize until you moaned at the sensation, throwing your head back.

“Shit.” You moaned when he placed his plush lips on your neck, sucking hard, “You’re gonna leave a mark-ah!” You bit your lip when he sucked at your sensitive spot.

“Good.” He grunted and you only ground against him harder, “Fuck, you’re really testing me.”

“I live right there.” You panted as he pressed you against him, his hands grabbing at your waist.

“But your stuff.” He noted as he sucked on your neck.

“I’ll get it tomorrow morning?” You spoke softly, more shy, trying to ask him to stay the night without asking, “It’s been ages since I’ve had good dick.” You groaned.

“And why’s that, sweetheart?” Jin was domineering and it made your thighs clench.

“Nobody’s been worth my time.” You smirked as he gripped your hip, much to your delight and you giggled at this, “Okay, maybe that’s a lie and I just want you to think I’m desirable.”

Jin smiled at this as he unlocked his car, “I already desire you, baby.” You shuddered at this. You move to get out of the car, but Jin took the initiative to move the both of you. You should’ve been more embarrassed than you were about your legs being wrapped around a man you had only met properly that day as he carried you into your apartment while whispering the R-Rated version of sweet nothings in your ear.

You handed him the key, and the moment the door shut you were up against the wall in an instant. You weren’t shy about the continuous moans and groans he ripped for your throat with the way his hand cupped your sex and began ministrations.

Jin reveled in the sound you made, only bolstering the unyielding need he felt for you. He had pictured this moment for so long and here you were, legs wrapped around him as he stumbled from wall to wall to get to your bedroom with one hand inside your panties.

You didn’t even think to ask how he knew where your bedroom was when you passed the threshold because if the way his fingers slipped inside proved to demand your attention more. He laid you down on the bed and you scrambled to your knees to unbuckle his belt as he stood over you. He let out a low groan when your tongue made a stripe along the base. You had to admit that his dick was quite beautiful and thankfully clean. Granted, you’ve seen some nice dick, but he was so well kept and soft and everything you were happy to put your mouth on.

His hand grabbed ahold of your hair and you moaned with your mouth full when he took control of you by tugging your hair. You had always liked it rough, and it was like he was reading your mind. He was fucking your face in no time and your thighs clenched in an attempt to alleviate the ache that only he could satisfy. He eventually pulled you off him and he left your mouth with a satisfying pop.

He stared down at you, hair messy, drool trailing down your chin, and eyes captivating with a carnal want. The sight could absolutely make him cum if he concentrated hard enough. He gave you a teasing glance as his slender fingers took their time with his shirt and you stripped yourself of the dress you wore in an instant. By the time Jin was in view again, he dove at you, lips attaching to yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as you clutched him closer to your form and you took a moment to appreciate how fit he was. His plush lips trailed down your body while his soft hands reached behind you to remove your bra.

Jin pulled away to sit up and stare at you for a moment. You were under him, chest heaving, mouth open in want, and he looked at your body, breasts beyond what he imagined and he moaned when his hands ran over your body. His hands nearly ripped your underwear down your legs and he studied your pussy like a scholar. His fingers spread you and he groaned at how wet you were. His mouth engulfed you, tongue having ached to taste you for too long and the way you squirmed only spurred him further. He ate you up like a man starved. When his tongue went inside you, you swore you saw God.

"Jin!” You gasped, body unable to squirm in his firm grip. If you hadn’t been feeling so good, you would swear he was eating you out more for his sake than yours. You couldn’t even form words, only his name would come out of your mouth, and this was only aided when one of his hands went up to squeeze your nipple. His other hand went to stretch you with three fingers as air flooded your lungs in a dizzy of lust, “Fuck me!” You finally gasped out and that was all the prodding he needed.

Next time he would have to make you beg, take his time, drive you mad, but right now, he needed to feel you around him.

Jin plunged into you and you were immediately fucked out. The pain was delicious and you wanted more. He began to thrust slowly at first until your hips began to spasm, “Harder,” You moaned, “Please fuck me hard.” You begged and something in Jin just snapped.

“Who?” He slammed into you as you groaned in delight, “Who do you want to fuck you hard, hm?”

You took his hand and placed it around your neck, “You, Sir, please.” You batted your eyelashes at him and that was it, “I want you to fuck your cum into me.” He was a weak man for you. This much was solidified when he expertly slammed into you as he squeezed your neck intermittently. Strangled moans came from you until the hand holding his wrist squeezed and Jin let go of your neck to hear you scream for him as you came.

You didn’t disappoint as your back arched and eyes rolled back. The erotic image paired with the way you clenched around him only pushed him over the edge as he came, hips stuttering as you both rode out your respective highs.

You hardly remember him cleaning you up, what mattered most to you was the way he held you through the night.

You woke up to an empty bed and sighed out, figuring he was gone. Maybe this is your punishment for never making the guy wait like your mother said to. You huffed as your feet made contact with the floor and you flinched in pain, understandably sore.

You paused when you heard a sizzling. Jin was cooking. He was awfully comfortable in a home he had rarely seen and never been in, right? You stopped yourself for a moment.

You really fucked your hot stalker, didn’t you?

You audibly laughed. Your life was a fucking joke. Were you this desperate for attention to overlook the fact that this man had looked through the lens of your laptop long enough and hard enough to know the layout of your apartment.

You sure were.

You shook your head in exasperation as you headed out of the room where you encountered Jin in your kitchen, cooking eggs and he gave you a small smile. You returned if despite the conclusion you came to.

You certainly did fuck your insanely hot stalker.

“You know Jin, I don’t think you were completely honest with me earlier.” You mused, not bothering to look at him for a response, “It seems you encountering my little stream wasn’t as casual as you say.”

Jin froze for a moment. You weren’t an idiot. He knew it wouldn’t take you long to organize your thoughts and see the truth. Not that he planned to omit the full truth for long. He had just been hoping you were in love with him before it came out. He could only hope the orgasms brought you at least a quarter of the way there “Why do you think that, baby?” He spoke slowly as he used the plastic spatula to move the yolk.

“Call it a hunch, but I don’t think anyone is that passionate fucking someone they just met.” You spoke listlessly, “I don’t mean to sound vain, but are you obsessed with me?"

Jin let out a short laugh, "The short answer is yes, but before you kick me out,” He turned the stove off as he placed the cooked eggs on a plate before turning to you, fingertips drumming on the counter, “Why don’t we eat a bit while I make you a proposition?”

The smart answer would be no. The smart choice would be to kick him out, an idea you hadn’t considered until he said it. However, you were known for your charisma much more than your intelligence. With that, you sat down at your table and Jin smiled in relief ever so slightly. It almost made you wonder if he knew you weren’t going to kick him out at all.

“Who am I to say no to free food?” You hummed as Jin opened your silverware drawer without even needing to ask you, almost as if he had obsessively watched you go about your daily life for a week.

He handed you the fork as he sat next to you. You took a bite of the perfectly scrambled eggs because of course, they were perfect.

He watched you eat with an emotion you hadn’t seen before. He could tell you were confused, and he wanted so badly to tell you it was adoration. The swine you were surrounded by had been to idiotic to appreciate what they had. Even just watching you was a gift nobody deserved.

“So this proposition?” You mumbled as you chewed lightly.

Jin snapped out of his trance, “Ah, yes.” He straightened his posture and rolled his shoulders like a true businessman as you watched his mouth settle into a confident smirk, one slightly different than the one he held whilst holding your legs open mere hours ago. The memory almost made you want to forego the offer and proceed with another round instead. Never in your life had anyone made you feel so wanted, “I would like for you to be my… companion.” He snapped you from your thoughts and considered the word for a moment before speaking again, “I find the word girlfriend to be too casual for what I would like our arrangement to be.”

You shifted a bit in your seat, unsure what the word companion even meant to him, “And what arrangement would that be?” You took another bite, trying to avoid his intimidating aura.

“One of a romantic variety.” You nearly choked on the food, “I suppose the end goal is for you to be my wife.” This time you did choke on the food. Your windpipe had welcomed the egg but Jin was quick to pat you on the back as you coughed, “I was just about to say I’d like to grow old with you, and here you are, almost killing yourself.” He chided as he pushed a cup of water your way and he waited for you to put the cup down before proceeding, “Essentially, I love you, and I’d like for you to commit to being with me and eventually loving me back as we go through life together.”

Your eyes were wide as you looked past Jin, trying to avoid eye contact. Had anyone ever really loved you? Your parents, maybe. However, she was required to by society. Jin had no obligation to feel anything for you and yet here he was, making you food and offering you the love and attention you craved.

You felt your face heat at his nonchalant confession of love and yet your heart was racing at his hand landed on top of yours. Your entire body was buzzing and you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or anticipation, “Well, w-what’s in it for me?” The question was shaky at best. You were willfully confused and unsure why you had been so ready to say yes without even hearing the benefits.

Jin was evidently amused by your attempt to put on a disinterested front. You had never been a good liar. He loved that about you and thrived on your honesty, “For one, you’ll have a stable and consistent person in your life.” That one stung a bit which is why he wanted to get that out of the way first. He knew how lonely and isolated you were, “You’ll always have my support emotionally, physically, and financially.” You nodded, asking him to go on, “You’ll never have to worry about anything really, I find myself with an aching need to bend to your every whim.” You smiled sheepishly at this, “I can offer you a life of happiness, loyalty, security, and endless love.”

You didn’t realize how hard you had clutched his hand until you breathed out a released Jin from your clutches. He stroked the top of your hand in response, “And what’s required of me?”

Jin squeezed your hand for a moment, “Your love and affection.” He mused, “I want you to commit to being my lover- ah, that’s the word I had been looking for.” He lightly tapped his head, “You make me woefully absentminded.” He chided and you felt your heart flutter, “All you ever have to do is look at only me as far as potential mates go. I can certainly promise to keep you interested.” A smirk played on the edge of his lips as his other hand stroked your knee, “You’re intoxicating and I could very well prove to be your drug of choice as well.” He spoke lowly and you almost shivered, “Your rules, for lack of a better word, would be to love me, and only me, and ideally, work at home for the most part.” This caught your attention, “Your passion seems to lie with screenwriting and editing with a dash of set design, yes?” He hardly waited for you to confirm, “So, you can do most of your work at home as is, on any other endeavors, I’d like to accompany you.” You nodded again, agreeing before your mind was fully made up, “I don’t like the idea of the outside world having free access to you.”

“Go figure, considering the outside world had paid access to me.” You chuckled before taking a breath after seeing Jin’s smile falter, “Anywho, I would be quite a fool to deny you.” You sighed out, “You paint a nice picture, especially to someone as isolated and affection-starved as myself. You seem to have made yourself the skeleton key to all the locked doors I’ve been faced with in my lifetime.” Jin smiled proudly at this, “Yeah, it’s creepy you got off to watching me and are literally obsessed, but if you look like this, have that much money, and can make me cum like that during our first time, who am I to say no to a life of comfort and happiness?"

"Do you think you could love me?” Jin asked, confidence mostly gone and his eyes left with pure hope. For the first time, he didn’t know your answer.

You smiled at him, no doubt in your answer as you brought your hand to cup his cheek softly, “I certainly could.” You were softer this time, “But riddle me this…"

"Anything.” His hand brushed over your own as your thumb stroked his cheek.

“Why do you love me?” He placed a kiss on the back of your hand after holding it.

He sighed dreamily, “I’m surrounded by people with the whole world in the palm of their hand.” He rubbed his face against your hand, “Some love it, some hate it, but they’re all the same.” You saw him grimace at the very thought of these people, “They lie and constantly pretend to be something they’re not.” He looked up to meet your eyes, “But you, are so unapologetic about who you are and what you love.” He cupped your face and you could feel yourself heat at his touch, “You’re honest and not afraid to feel despite everyone trying to get you to conform to their standards.” He smiled at you and you knew it was over, “I genuinely just want you in my life, and I want to be someone special to you as you are to me.”

You were shaken from the trance when you felt a tear slide down your cheek. Never in your life had anyone been so kind and supportive of you. He didn’t joke about how unlikely your career path was or give you a backhanded compliment. He was just a guy who wanted to be in your life and support you- and if overlooking his obsessive stint of his was what you had to do, then fuck it. He could’ve easily lied to you and you would’ve fallen for him none the wiser. What does you knowing about his obsession really change? It doesn’t make him love you any less and it doesn’t make you any less infatuated. You would be his and he would be yours because you both wanted it to be as such.

Jin’s hand brushed the tear off your cheek, “No need to worry, petal.” His voice was gentle, “Not anymore, not while I’m around.”

Your eyes glinted with hope and just a hint of trust when Jin met them again. You leaned in to kiss him softly, an affirming kiss. It was a kiss that said, “You better not be lying to me Kim Seokjin, I’ll go crazy.” You breathed the words against his mouth and he gave you a playful smile.

He gave you a kiss in return, reassuring the faith you decided to put in him. He would never disappoint you. His hand went to the back of your neck as he tilted your head upwards to pull you in deeper, “I’m so in love you.” He breathed on your mouth in return and you shivered, the feeling foreign to you.

“Well,” You huffed, catching your breath, “Do I get to live in your fancy penthouse now?” You gave me a carefree smile, and it sunk in that he was no longer forced to watch you through a screen. He could watch you all day. He had plans to do as much. He found he could prove his love best by merely looking at you.

You really knew how to read him like a book. He noted how terribly naive you were. In a matter of 24 hours, you agreed to move in with a man who had spied on you like an animal starved. However, Jin only determined this as an exhibition of how meant to be the both of you were. A great playwright must have written your love story for the ages.

The world looked much more beautiful with your hands on him.

ko-fi

masterlist

#yandere bts #soft yandere jin #kim seokjin #bts smut #bts series #bts oneshot #bts fanfic #bts fluff

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

Text

After Party - freedom au

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, some Dick Grayson and Alfred Pairing: jondami Summary: After a night of shmoozing with local elites, they just want to spend some time together, alone. Of course, their superhero dads just have to drop in, right then - literally. A/N: This is probably maybe a year or so after The Easiest Difficulty and they’re both upper-20s Jon’s just really REALLY in love with Damian, mkay. No straight up mention of Lois being informed because in my brain, when Damian called the fam, they relayed it to the Supers. Though in the other two fics, I know Damian was very stoic about not being a hero anymore, he still struggles with the choice himself, especially in situations like this. Sorry if ending is awkward. If you like what I create and want to support me more/get more bts kind of stuff, support me on Ko-Fi or Patreon!

Freedom AU

Jon couldn’t stop staring at Damian as he said goodnight to his coworkers, as they left the convention center. The fundraiser for the animal shelter went off without a hitch. Nothing had been counted yet, but they all had the feeling they’d doubled their goal – at least.

But Jon watched as Damian smiled and waved – genuine smiles – while he shot off a few last text messages, and they walked to Jon’s old beat up truck with the last of the decorations from the event. But he didn’t stop staring, even as Damian shut the door to the truck bed, and they both climbed into the cab.

He started the car, but didn’t take it from park, glancing around the lot, watching the last few volunteers drive off after a job well done. Then he grinned and laid his arm along the back of the bench seat, looking back to Damian, who was still typing away on his phone.

So, it took a few moments before Damian fixed his glasses and murmured, “You going to hit the gas any time soon?”

Jon silently shrugged, watching as Damian loosened his bowtie. This shindig had been a semi-formal affair. That didn’t stop Damian from dressing to the nines, of course.

With no verbal response, Damian looked up himself, and narrowed his eyes at Jon’s attention. “What? What are you looking at?”

“You, obviously.” Jon smirked. “You look great.”

“You said that earlier this evening.” Damian mumbled, breaking eye contact. “You do too, by the way. Old Mrs. Barundy couldn’t stop talking about how handsome you were. Pretty sure that was the only reason she donated as much as she did. Also asked if I would raffle a date with you at next year’s affair.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I told her I’d think about it.” Damian admitted. “I will gladly sell you for the wellbeing of my animals.”

“Good to know.” Jon laughed, shifted a little. “…You did great tonight too, you know. I’m really proud of you.”

“…Thank you.” Damian put his phone down and smiled. “And thank you for accompanying me this evening. I’m sorry I couldn’t spend more time with you.”

“You’re the head of the most successful shelter in the tri-state area at a fundraiser for your work, of course you were going to be pulled in every big wig’s direction.” Jon waved off. But he shifted again along the seat, stretched his arm a little further so his fingers now brushed the back of Damian’s neck. “But now it’s done and over with and just you and me.”

“Mhm.” Damian smiled a little bit now, and Jon knew he was onto his game. “…You still haven’t put the truck in drive.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Do you plan to any time soon?”

“Not really.”

Damian barked a laugh, turning in the seat to face the other. “Jonathan Kent.” He warned playfully. “We are not making out in the cab of your truck.”

“Why not?” Jon grinned like a Cheshire cat, giving up all semblance of subtly, practically throwing himself across the seat. “Everyone’s left.”

But Damian was still laughing, even as Jon tugged at his bowtie, pulling it off completely. “We are not some horny teenagers after a school dance.”

“No, but you do look great, and you just raised probably almost a million dollars for the animals.” Jon was already brushing his nose along Damian’s jaw, voice getting quieter and breathier by the syllable. “So I think you deserve a reward.”

“…I can wait until we get home for my reward.” Damian whispered, slowly wrapping his arms around Jon’s neck anyway.

“Yeah, but I entertained madam mayor’s drunk husband all night, so I deserve a reward too.” Jon returned. “And I think I’d like my reward right now.”

He didn’t wait for a response, gently pressing his lips to Damian’s. Damian instantly returned the gesture, practically dragging Jon on top of him in the process. Jon grinned, gleefully boxing Damian in against the passenger door.

“You’re…lucky.” Damian breathed when he could. He still had one arm around Jon’s neck, but the other had returned to his front, and was swiftly and expertly unbuttoning the first few clasps of Jon’s shirt. “I like…you.”

“I am.” Jon agreed, as Damian ran his fingers along Jon’s bare chest up to his throat. He ducked his face along Damian’s own neck, kissing until he found the spot he wanted to mark. “I’m the luckiest guy in the whole damn world.”

Damian gasped a breath as Jon bit gently into his skin, and dug his own nails into Jon’s back, clinging like Jon would disappear if he didn’t.

When Jon pushed a little too deep, sucked a little too hard, Damian laughed at the sensation, and a little mumble of “Tickles…!” was whispered into Jon’s ear. So, at the insistence of Damian’s hands framing his jaw, Jon backed up a little, a small tease – What, a little hickey too much for you, the great Damian Wayne? – already starting vibrate in his throat.

But when he looked into Damian’s ocean green eyes, half-lidded and adoring, his throat went dry, and his heart stuttered. He couldn’t say anything, he could barely even breathe.

Damian just smiled up at him, cheeks flushed and chest heaving slightly. Quietly, fingers of one hand stroking along Jon’s face, he reached up and tugged Jon’s glasses off.

“Much better.” Damian hummed, dropping the glasses to the floor of the cab while pulling Jon back in. When their lips met this time, Damian took control, and Jon was instantly putty in his hands. All he could do was stabilize himself with one hand along the window seam of the passenger door, the other wrapped as tightly around Damian’s rising hips as he could hold.

So they weren’t paying attention to anything else – of course they weren’t. Too wrapped up in each other, in the sensation of loving and being loved, of being alone with the one he held most dear.

So they didn’t see the body falling from the sky. Didn’t notice until it crashed into the bed of their truck.

At the sudden motion of the deafening crash, after their teeth clacked together in surprise, Jon immediately dropped his body onto Damian’s, instinctively trying to protect him as quickly as possible. Damian, for his part, went along with it, arms wrapped around Jon’s torso.

The truck bounced for a few more seconds, and it wasn’t until the car was completely still that Jon raised his head.

“What the fuck was that?” Damian spat beneath him, already trying to shimmy upwards to look for himself. Jon held him down for a second more, just to make sure the coast was clear.

“Not sure.” Jon murmured, looking around the still-empty parking lot. His eyes narrowed, though, as he reached the grass field nearby. “But something landed over there.” He nodded towards the dust rising in the dark, then back to his truck bed. “…And in our car?”

“Fuck.” Damian cursed again, even as Jon finally deemed it safe enough for him to sit up. He shifted back to his side of the car, kicking the door open, just as Damian did the same on his side.

As soon as they got into the open air, they heard an agonized groan coming from the mass that was feet away from landing on top of them. Jon had his fists and powers at the ready, even as Damian all but ran up to the lump, grabbing at the fabric that seemed to cover it.

But he’d barely moved it at all before he gasped, eyes going wide behind the blue frames.

“Batman?!”

The figure shifted a little, revealing Batman’s face, his mask half torn off. Not that you could recognize Bruce Wayne under the blood his face was covered with.

Damian was already climbing the side of the bed, not even bothering with the door, shoving the now crushed boxes Batman landed on to the side.

“Father…” He whispered, trying to turn Bruce to a better position than the one he landed in. As he did, he glanced up the sky, where his father clearly came from. “What happened?!”

“Luthor.” A wheezed reply came from the side, and Jon whirled around, gripping his fists even tighter, eyes lighting up red. He released his strength almost immediately, though, as he recognized his own dad limping pathetically towards them. “Being…asshole.”

His uniform was no better than Batman’s, a large slash right through the S-shield on his chest being the most prominent flaw.

Jon ran at him instantly, barely catching him before Clark collapsed.

“Dad…” Jon breathed. “…Dad!”

“Help…Bruce.” Clark drawled, head lolling to the side. “I…I d-dropped him. He’s…he’s hurt bad…”

“Jon!” Damian called. Jon glanced back, and saw Damian staring at them. He raised his hand to point towards Clark. Jon followed the gesture to his father’s side, and found the hilt of a glowing green dagger sticking out of his skin. Jon’s eyes widened as he looked desperately back at Damian, whose face was grim. “…Get him in the truck.”

Jon nodded, and began dragging Superman towards his truck bed.

Damian sighed as he hung up the phone, absently staring at it in his hand as he lowered it from his face. After a moment, he shook his head, and slowly climbed back up the stairs. When he reached the landing, he went to the closest room and leaned against the doorframe, watching Jon for a moment, as he held his father’s hand.

“Pennyworth and Grayson are on their way. Should be here soon.” Damian whispered under the beeping of a heart monitor. Of two heart monitors, with one attached to his own father in the other room. “Drake is looking into whatever conflict they had with Luthor tonight, and will update us when he can.”

Jon nodded, leaning back in his chair. Damian winced as he exposed all the blood still on the sheets, and mess of bandages on the floor. He’d done the best he could, with the medical knowledge he had. But, admittedly, he was years out of practice, since leaving the capes and masks behind, and these days tended to only work with patients of the four-legged or feathered variety. Not humans, and most definitely not Kryptonians.

“They’re going to make it, Jon.” Damian reminded, both for himself and his lover. “They’ll be okay.”

“I know.” Jon sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. He looked back at Damian and smiled sadly, holding his hand out. Damian took it, and allowed himself to be pulled to Jon’s side. Jon kissed his fingers and wrapped that arm around Damian’s waist. “This must be how Mom feels.”

“Hm?”

“Helpless. When he comes back like this from missions.” Jon muttered. “I mean…there’s nothing we can do. We can’t go out there and chase Lex down.”

“…We could.” Damian countered quietly.

Jon looked up at him, leaning his chin on Damian’s stomach. “No. We made our decision.”

“Do you regret that decision, right now?”

“…No.” Jon admitted. “I don’t regret it for a second. Not even now.” He squeezed Damian’s hip. “Do you?”

Damian shook his head. “I do feel guilty about it, though.”

“Feel guilty about not feeling regret?” Jon asked. Damian shrugged. “You only feel that at this moment. Because back in the day, you and me might’ve been out there fighting with them, and it’d have been our job to watch their backs.”

“We’re their sons. It’s always our job to watch their back, isn’t it?” Damian countered.

“I don’t think they’d see it that way.” Jon chuckled. “Besides, I’d like to think we watch their back in other ways.”

“Like?”

“Emotionally.” Jon offered. “Being actual human beings – yes, I see the irony of that for my dad.” He smiled. “Moments like now.”

Damian returned the smile, running his hand over Jon’s hair.

“Besides, even if we were still in the game, we don’t have any intel on what went down tonight, where it happened, or who besides Lex was involved.” Jon closed his eyes, and leaned into Damian’s hand. “So we couldn’t do anything even if we wanted to.”

“We could.” Damian repeated. “…We would just be going in blind and probably make complete fools of ourselves.”

“Yeah. Pass.” Jon laughed. He turned his head and kissed the palm of Damian’s hand. “…We aren’t anywhere near Metropolis.”

Damian blinked. “No, we’re not.”

Jon sat up, looked back at Clark. They’d removed the Kryptonite dagger as soon as they got to the house, but there was still a sickly green tint to his skin, though it was thankfully slowly fading. “We’re not near Gotham either.”

“Your point?”

“Where did whatever happened…happen?” Jon wondered out loud. “I mean…if it happened in either of the cities, they’d have to of come incredibly out of the way to end up…here.”

“Maybe that should be question number one when one of them wake up.” Damian suggested. “Or…Grayson can ask, when he starts his investigation.”

“I vote Dick.” Jon grinned again, but this time there was a little gleam in his eye. “Because I’m tired, I don’t want to be involved in that crap, and because our dads interrupted some very important business-”

Damian was about to laugh when a groan came from the other room. Instantly, he untangled himself from Jon, who was already moving to stand, and darted across the hall.

Bruce was still on the bed – their bed, as he was in their room – but was struggling in an attempt to sit up. Jon stopped at the door even as Damian rushed forward, pushing his father back down as gently as possible.

“You’re alright.” Damian called sweetly. “You’re safe. You’re at my house.”

Bruce blinked even as he collapsed back down. “…Damian?”

Damian smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hello, Father.”

Bruce glanced back to Jon, eyes immediately became sad. “…No.”

Jon smiled and waved, even as Damian chuckled a little. “It’s alright. You didn’t bring any baddies here.”

“You shouldn’t be involved.” Bruce slurred, fingers twitching. Damian immediately took his hand in both of his, and glanced at the heart monitor nearby. “You shouldn’t have to even see-”

“Deep breaths, Father. Don’t panic.” Damian soothed. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce breathed. “I’m so sorry, Damian…”

Damian kept his smile. “Pennyworth and Grayson are on their way. Drake is conducting the investigation. We’re just…the accidental middlemen.”

“Good. That’s…” Bruce winced in pain as he shifted a little. “That’s good.”

“…May I ask, though?” Bruce looked up at him. “What happened tonight? And how’d you end up here?”

“Luthor was trying to have a pissing contest with Clark again.” Bruce sighed. “Caught us off guard with a little more muscle and henchmen than normal. Got a few lucky shots in.”

“Oh, just a few?” Damian smirked. Bruce laughed, but grabbed at his side with his free hand after a moment.

“It was in a city not far from here. We had to retreat. We were…” Bruce frowned. “Clark grabbed me. I thought I heard him say something about maybe hiding out here for a while, to regroup or…or something. He said he was going to try to call first, to ask if we could stop by…?”

“Father, you know you don’t ever have to ask. You’re welcome here whenever, whatever the reason.” Damian promised.

“Sorry Dad apparently dropped you out of the sky before y’all made it, though.” Jon chimed in. Bruce waved him off.

“Glad he at least was able to drop me somewhere somewhat…soft.” Bruce shrugged a shoulder. “…Where did I land anyway? Did Clark get in contact with you two? How did you find us?”

“We never got a call, but you fell into the back of Jon’s truck.” Damian sounded almost apologetic. “On the left over decorations from the shelter’s fundraiser this evening.”

“…Your fundraiser.” Bruce breathed. “Did my donation come through?”

“Father, I think there are more important things right now than if your donation made it to the fundraiser.” Damian snorted.

“It’s something you worked hard at. Something you’re proud of.” Bruce rambled. “I want to be there for you. I know I’m not…”

“And I want you to rest.” Damian retorted, cutting him off. He knew his father felt enough misplaced guilt, not coming around much as Bruce Wayne, as a normal person; they didn’t need to rehash it now. “We can talk about mundane things later. Alright?”

Bruce stared blearily up at him for a moment, then twisted the hand Damian was still holding to grasp his back. Tears began to well in his eyes. “It’s so good to see you, son.”

“And you, Father.” Damian promised with a smile. “And once Pennyworth gives you and Clark the all clear, Jon and I would love for you two to stay a few days, if you can spare it.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but was drowned by the sound of a doorbell, and the various animals answering its call with howls and meows of their own. So instead, he just smiled and nodded, as Jon ducked away to answer the door.

Bruce and Damian sat in silence, Bruce’s eyes fluttering slightly, as they listened to the faint conversation at the door. Moments later, the sound of heavy, frantic footsteps up the stairs.

“I’ll start with your father.” Damian heard Alfred tell Jon. He moved to stand and no sooner had he settled on his feet, he was being dragged into the arms of his eldest brother.

“Are you okay?” Dick mumbled against his hair. Damian huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, even as Dick pulled back, eyes darting across his body.

“I’m fine.” Damian chuckled. “As I’m sure Jon tried to tell you, we weren’t involved in whatever happened. Just so happened to be in the right place at the right time aft-”

“What is that?” Dick demanded, pointing at Damian’s neck. Damian put his hand against his throat, but felt nothing, so turned to look in the nearby dresser mirror. “A bruise? Or a…”

Oh. Right.

“…It’s nothing.” Damian lied. But the heat was already rushing to his cheeks, and Dick was already smirking knowingly.

“Gross.” Dick winked. He spun Damian around and shoved him towards the door. “Please get out and let me talk to Bruce before I barf over how precious you and Jon are.”

Damian scoffed, but did as he was told. As he stepped into the hallway, he found Jon doing the same out of Clark’s room, closing the door behind him. His worried face melted into a smile when he saw Damian, though.

“You got kicked out too?” Jon asked.

“Of course.” Damian sighed, stepping into the circle of Jon’s arms. “Civilians only get in the way of investigations.”

“So…what do we do now?” Jon asked, leaning his chin on top of Damian’s head.

“Go downstairs and wait, I suppose. Make Grayson and Pennyworth some coffee for their troubles.” Damian listed. “Try to ignore the desire probably brewing to jump back into the old uniforms and avenge our fathers. Maybe sleep.”

“Could we…” Jon hummed in thought. “…Maybe continue where we left off in the truck?”

Damian hesitated a moment, then looked up at him.

“Or,” Jon tried sheepishly. “I’d even take grabbing a blanket and having hardcore cuddle time. It is almost two in the morning after all.”

Damian blinked, waited another moment, then said. “I guess Grayson was right.”

Jon tilted his head.

“You and I are absolutely, ridiculously, childishly gross.” Damian groaned in defeat. But he gently took Jon’s hand anyway, and together they walked down the stairs. “But…I’d be content with one leading to the other.”

Jon laughed, but let himself be dragged into the kitchen. As Damian started the coffee machine, he absently searched for a few blankets, setting some to the side for Dick and Alfred.

“Hey…Dames?”

“Yes, Beloved.” Damian hummed.

“…How long until everyone else in our families show up and stay for a few days?” Jon wondered allowed. “I mean, surely Mom and Conner know by now too…”

As the machine dripped, Damian plopped onto the couch, and Jon came trailing after him, fluttering the blanket over them both. As soon as the blanket stilled, a few of the animals jumped onto the couch to join them, while others puddled around their feet. “Oh, I’d be surprised if they weren’t all kicking our door down by sunrise. Even Todd.”

Jon laughed as Damian threw his arm around his shoulders. “Impromptu family reunion, with us as hosts.” He curled into Damian’s side, and closed his eyes as Damian kissed his cheek. “Can’t wait.”

#jondami #Damian Wayne #jon kent #bruce wayne #clark kent #freedom au

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

Text

Champagne-- C.H

a/n: totally self-indulgent piece here, used as therapy for myself. yeah. might delete.

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

• • • •

It’s late, nearing the bar close and Calum enters the dive bar close to his home. It’s pretty much vacant except for a few patrons scattered about the space and he sees a young woman sitting by herself with a whole bottle of champagne next to her.

Curious but keeping his distance at bay, he approaches the barstool next to her then nods at the bartender. He orders his drink, watching the motions while also glancing at the woman next to him. He takes in her outfit, dressed to the nines in a rose gold dress with a crown on her head that has a jeweled number placed in the middle. A sash has fallen to her legs, Calum can vaguely make out ‘Ha’ and ‘irthday’ to figure out it must be her birthday today.

He pushes a twenty dollar bill forward in exchange for his drink, glancing at the woman again. She puckers her lips to the bottle, takes a long drink and wrinkles her nose from the bubbly. Calum surveys the room to see if anyone is in the same attire as her; if her friends or family are around. When he spots two old men and a younger couple making out in the corner by a flashy game he realizes she’s alone.

Her phone dings and she moves sluggishly to swipe at the notification. She scoffs opening up her small clutch that’s also next to her, but with the alcohol in her system her dexterity is off and her phone clatters to the floor. Calum moves quickly to retrieve it for her just as she tries to get off the stool. Her legs are tangled in her sash and she falls into his chest.

Calum keeps his grip on her phone while also keeping her from falling to the sticky bar floor. He grunts helping her sit back on the stool, the sash completely falls in a small heap on the floor. He notices her shoes are rose gold and that she has a tattoo on her ankle before he looks into her eyes.

She’s drunk, that’s for sure, but he can see a sadness hidden behind the alcoholic lenses.

“Thank you,” she says softly, taking her phone from him. Their fingers brush, he notices how cold they are.

“You’re welcome, I don’t think there’s any damage,” he responds, eyes glancing at her champagne bottle that is nearly empty. Did she really drink that by herself? “Um, I’m Calum,” he holds out his hand.

She tells him her name slipping her ice cold hand in his, then he notices there’s goosebumps on her arms. Without a second thought, he removes his leather jacket draping it over her shoulders.

“Oh, please, you don’t have to--”

“You have goosebumps,” he shrugs then offers her half a grin, “can’t have the birthday girl freeze, can we?”

She bites her lip as tears free fall from her eyes. She tries to swipe them away but more tears come. Calum panics and grabs napkins that are in front of her from a little square tin.

“I’m sorry, what did I say? I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he apologizes and helps dab under her eyes with the napkin. He makes sure he doesn’t ruin her eye make-up which he also notices is rose gold. It must be her signature color, if he’s being honest, she looks really pretty in it.

“You’re the only one who noticed actually,” she sniffles letting him continue to dab at her cheeks. She reaches for the bottle but Calum is faster and moves it away.

“If you finish that you might throw up, that’s not fun,” he shakes his head.

“Too late,” she snickers then covers her face in her hands. “I’m so pathetic. I’m crying alone in a bar, puke and rallied and drank a whole bottle of champagne. And now a really cute stranger is drying my face.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he shakes his head, doing one final swipe under her eye. “And I’m glad to help make sure the pretty birthday girl’s eyeshadow is intact.” he tosses the napkin to the counter and pulls up the barstool so he can sit next to her. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m a really good listener. I’ll even buy you water.” He looks to the bartender who overheard his request.

“Water’s free,” she sniffs, giving him a watery laugh.

“So is kindness. Tell me why you’re in a bar alone on your birthday?”

“Everything went wrong. No one texted me back about my plans, I bought my own decorations and didn’t even put them up because I guess it’s “selfish” to want to decorate for your own birthday. I’ve been sitting here for hours and no one showed up,” her voice wavers, “so I decided to get drunk by myself by taking some shots, ordered an appetizer and drank and drank until I got sick. Then I felt better and bought myself this bottle of champagne. I feel like I’m in a poorly written movie.”

She moves to cover her face with her hands again just as a large glass of water is placed next to her bottle of champagne. Calum holds onto her wrists, gently moving them away from her face and pushes the water in front of her. She drinks it heartily, Calum’s fixated on the rings she’s wearing as the water level descends.

“I’m sorry that this is happening to you,” he tells her truthfully, she shrugs while she continues to drink her water. “How about I celebrate with you? We’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’d do that for a stranger?” she raises her eyebrows, resting her cheek in her hand.

“No one deserves to be alone on their birthday. What would you like to do first?”

She stares at him for a long time, finishes her water then huffs out a breath. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

They end up walking to a gas station and he buys her all the snacks and candy she wants. Then they go to Target and he buys card games and other board games they could play. Their final destination is a spot on the beach, his headlights shining on them while they eat and play.

While they’re playing Candyland, they also play 20 questions and find out each other’s likes and dislikes, dreams and fears, hobbies, favorite movies, the best and worst memories. When their snacks are nearly gone, she unfastens her heels then stands to her feet holding out her hand.

He takes it willingly, loving how her pink nails peek out from his black leather jacket and also loving how she still has it on.

“Where are we going birthday girl?” he grins following her to the edge of the waves.

“In the water,” she smiles. She squeals when her toes touch the frothy water.

“Hang on,” he chuckles toeing off his shoes and socks, his hand still firm in hers. Once he’s barefoot he joins her in the water, biting back a swear but it still breaks through. “Shit! This is cold.”

“You’ll get used to it,” she giggles, wading in a little deeper. She laces her fingers through his, kicking her feet in the waves. “Thank you for this, for spending my birthday with me, a total stranger.”

“I don’t think we’re strangers anymore,” he smiles watching her play in the water. The light from his car makes her crown sparkle and he swears he’s never seen someone so authentically beautiful.

“That’s nice,” she sighs airily.

Her body twists away from him to explore the length of the water’s edge, but he’s quick to reign her into him. The water splashes against their legs, she giggles from the movement and Calum adjusts her crown. His eyes move to hers slowly, his fingers caressing her cheek until he combs through her hair.

She stares at him expectantly, eyes wide as he leans down. He touches her lips softly, tasting her lip gloss and cherry coke. She brings her hand to his cheek, nails scratching against his scruff. He removes his hand from hers to grab onto her waist, pulling her against him. She lifts her other arm to loop around his neck, the motion makes his jacket fall off her shoulders.

“Oh no! Your jacket!” she exclaims pulling her lips from his.

“I don’t care,” he shakes his head, rubbing his thumb on her cheek, then onto her lower lip. He pulls another kiss from her. “You can pay me back.”

“How?” she giggles playing with his hair.

“Take me out on my birthday,” his hand on her lower back moves a little lower.

“When’s that?” she laughs breathlessly, swaying in the water with him.

“In six months,” he grins then kisses her more feverishly until his headlights burn out and they’re left kissing in the ocean under the stars.

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @koalacal @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @atlcal @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @calumhoodaf @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @morguelth @haikucal @thatscooibaby @meghanrose05 @idontneedanyone @dinosaursandsocks @cassie-sos @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @zhangyixingxing1

**if your url has a strike through it’s because your blog didn’t show up as a tag! :(

#calum hood fic #calum hood fluff #calum fluff #calum hood writing #calum 5sos writing #calum writing

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winchester-with-wings · 4 years

Text

Taking Your Time - pt. 2

(Barry Allen x Reader)

Patron Benefit Fanfic for @softdudebro

Author’s Notes: Another patron fic for softdudebro! They requested a part two: a weekend version. *this is kinda sorta set before Crisis, since I hadn’t seen it at the time.Thank you for your support! <3 *I don’t own the gif*

Summary/Request: Weekend Routine with Barry

Word Count: 1000

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Can’t become a patron? please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi (Tips are appreciated!)

Mobile Masterlist / Part One

Even during the week, you were fortunate to have some semblance of a morning routine. Living with Barry Allen, it always seemed like there was another impending crisis, or fugitive meta on the run. It was practically episodic!

It was a rare day when Barry awoke without the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. The burden sometimes meant that if he wasn't already exhausted, he was waking up at odd times, his concerns running wild.

When you wake up on a Sunday morning and find Barry's side of the bed empty, you're not surprised. The smell of bacon is a nice touch though. You take the chance to snooze until Barry is done….so maybe you have a couple of seconds, maybe a minute…

He brings you breakfast in bed. Pancakes and bacon with OJ but no coffee. He's already dressed, laying out on the bed in a flannel shirt and jeans. He accepts a bite of pancakes every now and then.

"No coffee?" you lament, teasing your boyfriend.

"Nope. We're gonna get that on our way."

"On our way? Where are we going?"

"It’s the first day for the Farmer's Market. We're gonna get that coffee you like with the cinnamon."

"Mmmm, that sounds lovely," you hum, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Mmm, you're lovely," he says right back at you. "So let's get up."

The coffee is calling your name, but you're tangled in your sheets. The soft cotton and the pillow just within reach smelling like your boyfriend, it's close to heaven. But the idea of the farmer's market was a close second.

Barry provides incentive in the form of putting away the breakfast tray, doing the dishes and then yanking the sheets off the bed. He can't force you to get dressed but he does at least use his speed to slip some socks onto your feet.

Barry whistles at you when he sees the outfit you've picked for the day. High waisted shorts and a cute floral tank top.

"You look like the springtime," Barry admires you, dramatically clutching at his chest.

------

Barry holds your hand the entire time you walk through the Farmer's market. He holds your coffee when you want to look at a booth and he doesn't dare deny you the chance to look at every single booth there is.

"This is so cute!" you gush over a metal and stone lawn ornament shaped like a frog. "We totally need one."

"We don't even have a garden on the balcony, much less a front yard," Barry teases you, his way of telling you no.

"Okay but we totally need one of those," you said moments later, pointing at one of the dozens of dogs partaking in the Farmer's Market routine. "Just think! If we got a puppy, we could bring her to the Farmer's Market too!"

"Am I not enough company for you, woman?" Barry jokes, trying to release your hand, but you won't let him get away that easily. You've moved on from your current interest and start looking over the one-of-a-kind jewelry at another booth. Barry watches you closely as your eyes dance over the necklaces until landing on a moonstone pendant. He can tell you really want it because you don't say anything about it.

He lets you pull him along towards the part of the market that sells fruit and vegetables.

"Maybe we can get something for the barbecue this afternoon?" you muse out loud, releasing his hand to pick up a cucumber.

Barry seizes the moment to disappear for only a moment. You don't even notice. As far as you can tell he's only stepped over to another cart to fondle the peaches, searching for the best for a pie or cobbler, which he does. He picks our half a dozen and pays for them while you find a new homemade barbecue sauce.

"It's made with pineapples!"

"That's weird."

------

But Joe loves it, dipping his fries in the sauce until the ribs are done later that day. Cisco and Caitlin have created the perfect concoction of daiquiris and margaritas.

"It's so good I don't even care if I can't get drunk," Barry grins from ear to ear as he walks over to the table in his Hawaiian shirt.

When you sit down next to Barry, his hand slides under the table. You think he's going to grab your leg or your hand. You look at him out of the corner of your eye. But when he drops something cold into your palm, you turn to face him in confusion. Everyone else continues to make conversation as they serve themselves.

"Barry? What's…" You pull out your hand and open it to reveal the moonstone pendant you'd been looking at earlier. Set with copper wire and a thin chain. "Oh, Barry!" You grin, bouncing in your seat as Barry takes it from you. You move your hair out of the way so that he can put it on you. That's when everyone notices.

"Oh, Y/N, that's beautiful!"

"What's the occasion?" Caitlin asks. You look to Barry for an explanation.

"Yeah, what did you do? Get in trouble?" Cisco wise-cracks.

"I don't need a reason to buy things for my girl," Barry shrugs and wraps his arm around your waist.

"Thank you Barry, I love it. I love you," you say, leaning into him and kissing him.

"Alright, alright, I know I raised the kid good but let's eat!" Joe interjects. His voice startles Barry and he jolts for a moment, literally shocks your joined lips. Sparks fly when you're together!

It's a common occurrence to have these barbecues and gatherings at least once a month. It's great way to recharge with your friends and family. Everyone goes around the table saying what they're thankful for. A family like this, you don't want to wait until some holiday to give thanks. Team Flash is grateful for every day together. You never know when the next crisis will hit.

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

Tagging: @abbessolute @autoblocked @book-loving--anime-chick @karazoiel@overlyobsethed @therealcap @whoopxd @bookworm4ever99@geeksareunique @pottxrwolff @barry-writes @ravenhaviland @clockblobber @softdudebro @melaninspice11 @parkerschurros @woaahkelsey @montytheravenclaw @eds-gryff @smutfornerds @fabinapercabeth4179 @faithtrustandpixiedust95 @thinkwritexpress-official @ladylizzieofdarbyshire

#my writing #barry allen #barry allen x reader #barry allen fluff #patron fic #patreon fic #fanfic request #the flash #the flash fanfic #grant gustin #barry allen fanfic #barry allen fic

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anathemafiction · 5 years

Text

With Honey on Your Lips

Commission made by a lovely anonymous.

The Pitch: How would Hadrian, Alessa, The Pirate King, Vallen, Rafael, Alain, and Ysabella react to waking up in the middle of the night to an MC singing a romantic serenade under their window.

Gender undefined MC.

4k words

"Your eyes akin to flaming ice."

You are most clearly drunk.

"Oh, cold beauty heed me. Do not leave me."

The last line is delivered in a shrill note that pierces into her eardrums and rattles the back of her teeth. Alessa closes her eyes momentarily, hiding a grimace as she lounges against the window. Her hip is cocked on the thick railing, her arms crossed over her chest as her blue eyes look down towards the patio of the Company's headquarters.

"Oh cold heart, melt for me."

Some other fool, Brion from the looks of it, is playing a fiddle beside you. The sound as wavering and reeling as your voice. You shout to the sky in drunken enthusiasm, your arms spread wide, your face red from drink and lack of air, and lovestruck awe. You sway as you sing, steps faltering although you stay in the same spot.

Alessa's mouth downturns when more drunken fools step out from the shadows to form a semi-circle around you and Brion. They have their mugs in the air and hmm to the lyrics you sing.

"Melt for me, my darling."

You smile up at her. A wide, happy, foolish smile that has her frown deepening and her lips curling into a fond smile of her own.

You idiot.

She is in her nightclothes, the evening breeze chilling her skin. She had fallen asleep waiting for you to return, but what she woke up to instead was to an awful cacophony right outside her bedroom window. Her first instinct was to throw a bucket of ice-cold water at the fools, but she quickly recognized you.

Staggering towards her, drunken love song bursting from your beloved lips.

"Forever!"

You end in a high pitch note that tears the night sky and makes her recoil by the intensity of it. The improv bard finishes with a flourish of fingers that look entirely ridiculous and accomplishes nothing besides a broken string. Brion yells but it's ignored as you suddenly take one faltering step forward, your eyes boring into hers, your chest heaving.

"Well, Ales-" you hiccup. "Alessa, How did you li-like it?"

Silence falls.

Your mouth hangs open, and you look up at her as if your life depended on her next words, and she will be damned if it doesn't spread a warmth to her chest and makes butterflies beat their wings against her stomach. Alessa sighs. My idiotic darling one.

She wants to kiss those dumb lips of yours which sang her a terrible, perfect love song. She wants to throw her arms around your neck and squeeze you to her until the doubts vanish from your eyes. She wants to let go and act like a foolish milkmaiden who has never left her parent's farm, but Alessa cannot. She is up here, and you are down there, and half a dozen of her fellow mercenaries are staring at the both of you.

So instead, she squares her shoulders, and lifts her chin, and gives you the small, secret smile she stores just for you. "A most perfect song, my darling one."

You smile, fist-pumping the air. The drunken mercenaries cheer in unison, and Brion still cries over his broken string.

Alessa's smile has never been so wide.

- - -

It had taken him a long while to fall asleep.

The bed is all wrong. Too wide and tall, the mattress too soft and plump. But the worst thing is the stillness. The ground is completely static, not a sway to be had, not a slight up and down or a sideways undulation. It unnerved him, threw his balance off.

The Pirate always hated sleeping in dry ground. So when he was finally able to slip into dreamland, after several curses and threats to his ancestor's spirit guardians, the Pirate is less than happy when in the middle of his well-deserved slumber, something wakes him up. Or someone.

As his dark eyes blink, and he groggily sits up in the terrible bed, dark clouds are gathering above his head already. Nine fingers curl in the sheets as his head snaps to wakefulness.

A voice. And a loud one at that.

The Pirate breaths out slowly through his nose and narrow his eyes at the window. Oh, you silly twit. It comes from there. He can't make out the words, but someone is speaking outside. He cocks his head as he listens to the gentle undulation, the soft fluidity in the notes, and The Pirate's mood lifts slightly as he listens on.

Not speaking. Singing. Like a bird who woke up much too early to greet the sun.

His bare feet land on the ground and he stalks slowly to the window, dark eyes landing first on the roof of those awful, terrible stone buildings. No water in sight. But he doesn't dwell on the thought as, standing on the cobblestones below, here lies you.

You, swing sweetly at his window, seated at the base of a marble column. You have your knees tucked in and a soft breeze pulls at your hair, and he has to blink again to make sure you are not a lovely visage but made of flesh and bone.

When your gemstone eyes land on him, you smile around words of declaration, and The Pirate smirks immediately back, his chest swelling in pride and his hands shaking for your touch.

Hakuho.

Beautiful, lovely, precious peach. Singing for him. He owned the Spirits an apology. This was the best gift he could hope to receive.

He doesn't hesitate when he flexes his legs and jumps over the window railing. The fall is heavy and painful, but The Pirate barely grunts when he meets the ground. He's closer to you now, and that's all that matters. You yelp, halting your lovely song as you launch for him, your beautiful eyes wide in concern and he does not want that.

"What are you doing!?" you hiss, your hands coming to grab his arms, but he laughs loudly and holds you instead, strong arms looping around your waist.

(…)

Here is a sneak peek! The full commission is available on Ko-fi for one-time supporters (this includes those who have requested a commission or donated!) or monthly subscribers!

The Commission.

This one was fun! Thank you so much for making the request! 🖤

Do you want to request a commission yourself? Or are just feeling generous? Here is the link to the Ko-fi (◠‿◠✿)

#commissions #The Golden Rose #ko-fi commissions

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emilx311 · 5 years

Link

So, enough of you asked about it I decided to write it. It did not go according to plan at all! It was supposed to be funny and fluffy with ridiculous Uchiha and then I started writing and we got well....this. Hope you all enjoy anyways. Also, the twigs used later on in the chapter are from Mokuton plants. The Uchiha gather them after battles from things Hashirama has grown to use for some religious rituals.

Read it on AO3 or below the cut. Also, donate to my Ko-fi

Tobirama had been rather nervous about returning to his new clan compound with his husband. Madara had taken his drunken marriage and Tobirama’s subsequent reveal of his true identity and motivations amazingly well, but he’d had little hope the rest of the Uchiha would be as open-minded. He’d been fully prepared to deal with anger, suspicion, and even hate being tossed his way. The reality he was currently encountering was vastly different from his expectations. Really, Tobirama reflected, he should probably just stop expecting things when it came to the Uchiha.

He’d entered the compound at Madara’s side with the clan head’s arm wrapped around his waist. He held himself loosely and kept his head up high, as though he had every right to be there. No matter how the Uchiha reacted he refused to act ashamed. He had done nothing wrong (okay, agreeing to marry a drunk man after plying him with drinks was maybe a bit wrong, but Madara had been fine with it once he sobered up so the rest of the Uchiha could deal). He’d been braced for cutting words, demanding questions about who he was, hell, he’d half-expected at least one person to try to physically pull him away from their clan head. There was none of that.

There was shock and confusion from the Uchiha within view of the gate, certainly, but there was also awe, admiration, and even a faint amount of jealousy directed towards Madara. Said clan head was practically radiating smugness as he clutched the albino to himself even more tightly, sending a firm message of ‘mine’ to his gaping clansmen.

Tobirama was confused by the seemingly defensive gesture. No one had made any hostile moves or suggestions. Hell, no one had even said anything insulting or indicative of concern. The Uchiha in no way seemed about to attack them, but maybe Madara knew something he didn’t? Either way, he did feel safer closer to the one Uchiha he trusted not to harm him in any way, so he allowed the gesture without complaint.

“Hey, Aniki, I heard you were about to get home! How was the tri-WHAT THE HELL!” An Uchiha who must be Izuna shrieked upon catching sight of Tobirama, or more specifically the arm around Tobirama’s waist. He flailed for a moment before managing to gather himself. “Who’s this aniki and where did you find such a lovely creature?” He demanded. Tobirama blinked, slightly taken aback. He’d been expecting demands to get away from Izuna’s brother not…flirting. Also, lovely? He wasn’t, he knew very well that his colouring was strange and off-putting

“Hello to you too Otouto” Madara replied dryly, before smirking, full of pride. “This is Tobirama, my husband” he said tugging the albino even more firmly into his side. The Uchiha, who had almost recovered from their surprise, were back to gaping. Tobirama wanted to join them. He had expected Madara to break the news slowly, perhaps even hide it entirely for a time, not just announce it casually in public. He couldn’t help blushing at all the renewed stares he was getting.

“WHAT! ANIKI NO FAIR!” Izuna quacked, “you just snatched him up?!?! Without letting the rest of the clan have a chance to court him?” Izuna was panting by the end of his rant while Tobirama wasn’t doing much of anything, frozen with shock and disbelief as he was. That was the Uchiha’s issue with this? Not that his elder brother and clan head had married and brought home an unknown person after a short-term mission, not that he could be a soy, not that he might be there to hurt them, not even that he might be from an enemy clan (which he was even), no, he had an issue with the fact the rest of the clan hadn’t had a chance to marry him themselves. Tobirama had always known the Uchiha were rather irrational (see kidnapping people with red eyes), but now he was fairly convinced that they were all just insane.

“Too bad, so sad brat! I’m the clan head which means I get first priority and he said yes when I asked. We went to the temple that night, before you start getting any ideas, so out marriage is signed, sealed, and witnessed by the Gods” Madara taunted his brother. Izuna grumbled a bit before finally giving in.

“Still unfair, but fine, whatever. Congratulations on your marriage and all that. May it be long and blessed, yada yada” he said. He sounded flippant, but Madara could see the sincerity in his brother’s eyes. He was just opening his mouth to thank Izuna when Tobirama finally managed to shake off his shock.

“What the hell?” Came out of his mouth without him really meaning to. The surrounding Uchiha blinked and looked at him in questioningly.

“Tobi?” Madara asked his husband, concerned.

“None of you have any issues with this? At all?” He glanced around, the Uchiha all looked confused. “your clan head came back and declared he’d married some random person none of you have ever met and you’re all just okay with it???” His disbelief was clearly audible. The Uchiha had to admit their clan head’s new spouse had a point (pretty, blessed, and smart…Madara-sama was so lucky!), but he was missing a rather vital point.

“Of course, you’re one of Amaterasu’s blessed! She works her will through you. If you were to do anything to Madara then he deserved it for angering her” Izuna explained blithely. Tobirama opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally deciding not to bother with that, for now. It was working in his favour, and he would have the rest of his life to try and pound some sense into his new clan.

“Oh…” was all he said for the moment, truly surprised. “I knew the Uchiha collected those with red eyes for religious reasons, but I had no idea you held them, us, in such high regard” he confessed, careful not to use the word kidnap. The Uchiha as a whole seemed rater taken aback by that. It was Madara who finally spoke up, asking the question the whole clan was wondering about.

“If you didn’t think we took them to treasure them why did you think we went to all the trouble, and what did you think happened to them here” the clan head wondered. Tobirama pinked a bit.

“Other than religious reasons, no clue. As far as anyone outside the Uchiha are concerned they basically vanish off the face of the earth once they pass the compound door” the albino shrugged helplessly. Having some tact, no matter what his brothers said, he avoided mentioning the theories other clans had about how the red-eyed were treated. Kept as concubines was one of the nicer suggestions he’d heard after all. He was pleased to see that quite a few of the Uchiha, including Madara and Izuna, were looking a bit sheepish. A few seemed to be able to tell from his face some of the things he was not saying.

“It might help if the, what do you refer to us as, blessed? It might help if the blessed were permitted to visit or at least write their families and friends” he mentioned. He carefully modulated his tone so that he didn’t sound accusatory, just hesitant and helpful. He even lowered his eyes and leaned towards Madara in order to sell the act. Thankfully, the clan looked thoughtful instead of angry that he’s suggested something contrary to their traditions.

At that point there was a commotion at the end of the street. Tobirama turned to see six men and women hurrying towards them. Based on their ages and attire he assumed they were the Uchiha elders. The groan the Uchiha brothers gave upon seeing them all but confirmed that theory. Hashirama and Kawarama acted similarly when confronted by the Senju elders (he and Itama were bothered by them far less often since they were not next in line or clan head). Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself mentally for the unpleasantness ahead. Madara, probably feeling similarly, lets go of his waist only to grab his hand. Tobirama’s not sure who the gesture is for, but appreciates it none the less.

“Madara-sama!” The first elder cries, finally reaching them, “what have you done?!?” Madara stiffens.

“I have gotten wed” Madara replies honestly, daring them to find fault in him for it. Sadly, for them and their continued health, it seems they do.

“You have wed without consulting the counsel first? And to a male, who cannot provide you with heirs to lead the clan upon their passing!” The same elder exclaims, looking at Tobirama like he is less than the dirt beneath his feet. Madara’s chakra churns angrily while Izuna and the other Uchiha around are all but gaping in disbelief that the elder would dare say something like that. Even a couple of the other elders seem taken aback.

“Excuse me?” Madara bites out stiffly, but the elder doesn’t seem to notice the warning signs (or the way those nearby are trying to subtly inch away from him).

“You are the clan head; you have responsibilities to the clan. That you would ignore those for some pretty face is inconceivable! Your father must be rolling over in his grave! Stop this foolishness Madara-sama, set the whore aside and take a bride who can contribute something to the clan!” Izuna facepalms at the sheet stupidity of what this supposed “wise advisor” was saying and decides to intervene, if only to spare his aniki’s blood pressure.

“They wed in front of the Gods as is proper, which I’m sure you already knew, so my brother can hardly just ignore him and declare someone else his spouse. Multiple marriages are not permitted by the Gods. But since this is another thing you must already know; you must mean that my brother should ger rid of his new bride entirely.” It was a trap, that much was clear even if Tobirama didn’t know what Izuna was trying to do. However, if seems the elder is too blinded by rage and his own importance to see the danger.

“yes, exactly! He and his taint must be removed entirely from the clan and especially from Madara-sama himself!” The elder seemed ecstatic that Izuna was listening to him, however the Uchiha heir looked like the cat that got the canary.

“So, you would have the clan anger Amaterasu-sama by killing one of her chosen vessels and denying him the rights and place due to him by birth, an action that would, of course, call the Goddess’ wrath down upon us?” Izuna kept his enquiry toneless. The elder, who had been beaming at Izuna, suddenly froze as what Izuna had said seemed to sink in. The other elders had gone pale at the beginning of their heir’s question and were sneaking glances at Tobirama’s face. He glared at them defiantly. Clearly, whoever had alerted them to the situation had neglected to mention a few details, not that that was going to help them if Madara’s expression was anything to go by.

“Amaterasu-sama? Why would she care about-“ the elder cut himself off as he truly looked at Tobirama for the first time and blanched. It was clear he’d finally realized how badly he’d fucked up.

“please, Madara-sama, I didn’t know” the elder tried to defend himself, but Tobirama would tell that even he knew it was in vain.

“Silence!” Madara bellowed, allowing all the anger that had been in his chakra to show on his face. “You have disrespected my chosen bride, questioned my leadership and my devotion to this clan. You have also insulted and threated the life of a being kissed by Amaterasu-sama herself. You have committed blasphemy and treason and the penalty for those is death. Is there any here who find this sentence unfair?” He paused to look around at all those gathered nearby. They were all silent and he saw many shaking their heads at the question. “Good, Izuna” Madara nodded to his brother who quickly and cleanly beheaded the man. Tobirama shook slightly.

“You didn’t have to do that. He was simply worried about you marrying someone unknown and the future of the clan” Tobirama murmured to his husband. Madara was unrepentant, but surprisingly, it was another elder who answered, this one garbed as a miko.

“Madara-sama did exactly what he should have. To insult one of her blessed is to insult Amaterasu-sama herself. Had he allowed the one to do so to live her anger at the insult may have spread to the whole clan. Madara-sama was fulfilling the Uchiha’s duty to protect those she has blessed and the clan head’s duty to protect his clan” she stated calmly. Those around her nodded.

“Uchiha are all crazy” managed to escape from Tobirama’s mouth as he took in the scene. He winced as soon as it registered that he’d spoken aloud and was about to apologize for his words when the miko began to chuckle.

“perhaps so” she agreed, “but a life without any crazy would be rather boring, don’t you think?” Tobirama snorted and couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Perhaps so” he admitted. Besides, it wasn’t like the Senju were totally sane either (they had produced Hashirama after all).

“So, does anyone else wish to protest the gift Amaterasu-sama has seen fit to bestow upon Madara-sama?” The miko asked. The clan was silent. “So be it, on behalf of the Gods I welcome Tobirama-sama to the Uchiha clan as the spouse and partner of Madara-sama, may their union and leadership be long and fruitful!” Tobirama was surprised how loudly the Uchiha cheered at her declaration, and at how genuine their happiness and welcome seemed. He was also surprised how touched by this he was.

“Thank you” he said quietly but sincerely, blushing fiercely. Madara pulled him back into his side, wrapping his arm securely around his husband once again. He’d hoped to have more time to talk with those members of the clan he trusted most and figure out how to present things to the clan as a whole, but he was also unlikely to get a better opening than this.

“Since everyone is here, I have something else to announce” Madara started, getting the attention of the clan. “When Amaterasu-sama blessed me with Tobirama she also graced me with a revelation. She wishes for our war with the Senju to end, for us to make peace with them. I have been hesitant to accept Hashirama’s offers, but with Amaterasu-sama’s approval I will proceed with an alliance”. There was a moment of deep, dead, silence as the clan processed his declaration, red and black eyes widening in surprise. No one seemed to know how to react.

“Uh” one of the other elders finally spoke up hesitantly, “I mean no disrespect Madara-sama, but are you quite sure you properly understood Amaterasu-sama’s message? That she did not bless you with Tobirama-sama as a sign of our approaching victory?” She asked.

“No, she made her wishes very clear” Madara responded. Most of the clan still seemed unsure about how to react, whispering to each other and eyeing the corpse still on the ground. They were all tired of war, but could they truly make peace with the clan that had killed so many of their kin?

“Madara-sama” the miko finally spoke up once again, “would you allow me to read the portents to verify Amaterasu-sama’s will?” She inquired. Madara inclined his head to her in acceptance.

The miko led them towards a temple near the middle of the compound. Outside, a few feet away from the entrance, was a circle of stones filled with ashes. Quickly and efficiently, with the air of someone who had done this many times before, she took some firewood from another miko and built a small pyre in the pit. Absently, Tobirama noticed that most of the clan had followed them here. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this, except to hope that it would work out in his and Madara’s favour.

Once the pyre had been built the elder intoned a prayer to Amaterasu for guidance and then lit it on fire using the traditional Uchiha fireball, though a very small one. The elder waited a few moments, ensuring that the flames had caught to her satisfaction before she nodded. This must have been a signal of some sort for the other miko from earlier came forward once again and handed the older miko a small bundle. As she lifted it high and allowed the contents to fall into the flame Tobirama saw that it was a mixture of herbs and small twigs.

When the herbs and twigs hit the flame, they caused it to flare in size and shoot off several sparks. Thick smoke drifted mostly upwards except for a small tendril that seemed to almost curl around Tobirama and Madara. The elder was nodding thoughtfully as the fire burnt quickly down to embers. When there were only ashes left, Tobirama was shocked to see that one of the small twigs had remained untouched and was now sticking straight up out of the ground in the center of the circle.

“It seems Madara-sama was correct about the Goddess’ will” the miko mused. “Amaterasu-sama calls for us to make peace with the Senju” she announces grandly. The Uchiha once again erupt into noise as Madara puffs up smugly and Tobirama looks on in bewilderment.

#Madara #Tobirama #Izuna #MadaTobi #Scarlet Sacrifice #captured crimson AU #Captured Crimson Verse #Uchiha clan #fanfiction #my writing #Emi says

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