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salemwritesxx · 3 years

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𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾.

𝕋 𝕒 𝕜 𝕒 𝕞 𝕚 𝕂 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕠 | ℍ 𝕒 𝕨 𝕜 𝕤

⇴ male reader [22, chubby, 194cm] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ summary: [Your.name] is a chubby and tall man, someone who definitely didn’t fit Japan’s beauty standards. Safe to say, he wasn’t the most confident. However, during one group date, it finally all changes when he meets someone who is certainly very interested in him.

↣ rating: general audiences ↣ warnings: modern AU; self-deprecation; chubby, tall reader; reader’s “friends” being assholes to chubby reader; hawks and reader have a happy end tho; hawks is a simp for reader from the first minute on, ok?

part 2.

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“Come with us, they said. It will be fun, they said.”, you mumbled to yourself as you stood there. Awkward. Alone. Ignored. Too afraid the tiny bar stools would collapse underneath your big ass, hence why you chose to rather stand than sit.

Why did you let yourself get dragged into this group date? You wanted to say no in the beginning, but with your friends pestering you, you kind of agreed in the end. Though now, you knew all too well why you didn’t want to come.

As a chubby and very tall man, you weren’t the type that people, or rather, gay men, drooled over. At least you hadn’t had anyone show interest in you like that. Maybe it was because you were rather shy and thus not as loud as many of your fellow male friends, or you were the “wrong chubby”. Whatever it was, you were not attractive. Society made sure to tell you that at least once a day and sometimes those nice and kind people, not, were even going out of their way to tell you what a nuisance your were with your tall, fat ass taking up space. And in Japan, where everything was not really built to accommodate people like you, it was sometimes very hard to fit into things.

While you were sighing to yourself for the nth time and making sure to put yourself down as much as you could, you certainly didn’t realize how someone was always glancing at you. Hawks was one of the four gay men you and your friends had met today for said group date. Ever since he saw you, he had the urge to talk to you and get to know you. You were so tall and handsome and t h i c k. You could probably swing him around and break him like a toothpick. Just thinking about it made him grin.

However, it almost seemed like you had a shield around you he just couldn’t break through. He could guess why. Not only once had he seen people bullying the ones that didn’t fit the norm. Too fat, too skinny, too small, too tall – there was no end. People always found reasons to put others down. With how you stood there all alone, trying to make yourself as small as possible, Kei understood you tried to hide and you were uncomfortable. Even though you literally had nothing to hide. God, he wished he had met you sooner.

“Oiii Ta-ka-mi-san!”, his thoughts were rudely interrupted.

“What are you staring at Takami-san?”, then one of your friends, who was obviously interested in him, looked in the direction as well.

“Ah. [Your.name], huh? He’s like a car accident, right? You don’t wanna look but you also can’t really look away.”, your ‘friend’ laughed and Kei could have not been more disgusted by that behavior.

“God I wish I could just punch you, you fucking idiot!”, Keigo thought, furious and having to gulp down the anger.

Thus, he just smiled a little before he silently stood up to walk over to you, ignoring the calling of your ‘friend’. Instead, he got all nervous all of a sudden. Normally, he was the one being confessed to, not the one confessing or even initiating a conversation. Takami was used to people fawning over him, he was a rather successful model after all, hence why it was so hard to find someone who wasn’t just interested in him sexually or because of his money. And it did not help one bit that he found you so unbelievably attractive as well, his nervousness was at its peak.

“Hey. You’re… [Your.name], right?”, he tried to sound very casual as he leaned against the bar beside you. AND MY GOD, he was so tiny compared to you. He loved it. The way he had to look up so much.

You were rather surprised to get attention, especially from someone like Hawks. Like, he was so out of your league it was ridiculous to even think he would even BREATH besides you – yet there he was. Talking to you-

Oh. You knew what he wanted.

“Okay, look, let’s just skip all that polite small talk, the little laughs so we don’t feel awkward before you drop the question. Just tell me, which number do you want? Or should I just give you all three?”, you immediately cut to the chase. It had never been any different, so why would it be today? Especially when someone so sexy and pretty talked to you? Obviously he wanted someone from your much more handsome and well-trained friends.

Hawks was, however, rather surprised that THIS was your initial reaction to him talking to you. Though he could have not known how hard it would truly be to get to know you or get your number.

“Uhm… To be honest, your number alone would be quite sufficient.”, Keigo played it smooth. A handsome smile on his lips covered up his own nervousness – was he about to get rejected?

For a few seconds you stared at him, completely flabbergasted. Then you turned around and looked around… and looked around… and looked around some more until he finally asked, “Everything okay? You looking for an escape route?”

Keigo chuckled at the end, though he was not as calm as he pretended to be.

“No, I just…”, you then turned to him again, your brows furrowed, “… You can stop now, you know? Like, are you trying to prank me or…? Cameras anywhere? Like haha we got the fat guy. Look at him getting all flustered finally getting attention. Hahaha funny.”

At the end, you almost sounded a little angry, before you grabbed your drink and walked away from the bar. Saying Hawks was confused was an understatement. He just watched you for a moment as you walked away and squeezed into a lonely corner. God… How many people must have put you down for you to think he was pranking you?

“This is going to be more difficult than I thought.”

Running his hand through his hair, Kei had to calm down for a moment and reevaluate. Did you reject him because you genuinely weren’t interest or because you were self-conscious? Probably the latter. So… should he try again? Fuck yeah. As if he was going to give up so easily. He just needed you to know he really wasn’t pranking you, the rest… was up to Future-Keigo.

Clearing his throat and taking his drink, he then walked over to your corner. Standing in front of you he was so s m o l. It would probably feel great hugging you.

“Okay that was rough. Listen, I really don’t wanna prank you or anything. Just… get to know you… ya know?”, this time he genuinely smiled a little, hoping you wouldn’t just reject him again.

Raising one brow, you were still rather suspicious. AS IF someone like Keigo would want to get to know you. Something was not right, you could feel it in every fiber of your big, chubby body. Then again.. maybe the only thing that you felt was the insecurities that held you back from getting to know someone who might genuinely be interested in you.

So, you gave yourself a little push.

“Yeah… I guess… I’m not really used to…. You know, how about we just start over?”

Keigo thought he had finally cracked you, giving himself a mental high five for being persistent. Thus, with a small smile he nodded and reached out his hand.

“Sure, nice to meet you, I’m Takami Keigo.”

“I’m [Your.name], nice to meet you.”, you finally smiled a little as well. Oof, his heart just jumped. Why was he so smitten already? He literally just met you. Keigo definitely wanted to get to know you more.

“So, how about we go take a seat over there? I could do with another drink.”, he said while pointing in the direction of a free table.

For a moment, you hesitated, though after a few seconds, you nodded, “Yeah, sounds nice.”

Without realizing it, hours went by as you and Hawks sometimes were the loudest ones laughing. Your friends just glancing over every so often, obviously jealous you had gotten the most handsome men of all of them today. But for the first time, you didn’t care what other’s thought as you and Kei just had … a connection.

Hence why, when he glanced down to his watch and sighed, you felt a little sad.

“I wish this night wouldn’t end. But I have a model job tomorrow and I only was a backup for someone so I didn’t even intend to have so much fun today. Time sure flies with you, [Your.name].”, he gave you one of his best smiles that made your throat dry and your knees weak.

“I… really enjoyed myself, too. Thank you. And sorry for acting like that in the beginning.”, you smiled apologetically and a little flustered. He found it very endearing.

“That’s fine, don’t worry about it. Well…”, he then looked at his phone and stood up, “It’s 2 a.m. definitely missed the last train. I’m gonna make a quick call for a taxi.”

“Hm.”, you nodded and watched for a second as he went outside where it was a little quieter to call.

Looking between Hawks and your friends who were still partying with Keigo’s friend group, you wondered if you should bring him home. You were the driver, but… how often had your friends disappeared with someone without telling you? How often did you leave a party all by yourself? It was time to be a little selfish today.

So, you hastily stood up and walked outside the bar, watching as Keigo typed on his phone, ready to call.

“Uhm, Takami-san?”, you interrupted him.

“Hm?”, he was a little surprised.

“If you want.. I can drive you home. I brought my own car since I was planning on leaving earlier too and I only drank one cocktail right in the beginning and the rest was alcohol free stuff so… if you want?”, your voice became a little smaller by the end, not knowing if you were too eager. Was this okay?

“Really? That’s not a problem?”

“No! Not at all.”, you reassured him.

“That’s great! I only live like 20 minutes away if we take the car. Ahhh, you’re a life saver, [Your.name]! Thank you.”, Keigo beamed.

And so, you hopped into your car, the only place big enough for you, at least that’s what it felt like since you invested in a nice big one. Keigo was quite cute how he sat there in the big seat, being so small.

The drive to Hawks’ home was also filled with chatter and laughter, once again reassuring you both that you definitely had some sort of connection. And since he had been attracted to you before, it only gave him more reasons that he wanted to meet you again. Man… this could be the first time a group date turned out successfully – for the both of you!

When you parked in front of his apartment complex, Takami didn’t even want to go yet. Wishing that time would just stop, he sat there for a few seconds before turning to you.

“Thank you, [Your.name].”

“No problem, really!”

“You know, if it wasn’t that late I would have invited you to a coffee or another drink or something but alas…”

“It’s quite late…”, you almost said a little… saddened?

“Hm… It is… I’ll call you!” Hawks then said with a little bit of a grin, since you had exchanged phone numbers before.

“O-Okay.”, you didn’t know why you stuttered, it was just… really new.

“Oh, but you can call me too, yeah? Don’t be shy. Well, anyways.”, he jumped out of the car, turned one last time to grin at you, his golden eyes sparkling a little, making you even more flustered.

“Have a safe drive home and have a good night, [Your.name]!”

“Ah, you too, Takami-san!”

Then, you just watched as he walked up to his apartment complex. You didn’t know what suddenly got into you when you opened the door and jumped out, calling for him.

“Takami-san?!”, it was literally two in the morning, his poor neighbors.

Though Hawks immediately turned his head.

“I… really, really enjoyed myself today. Just… thank you.”

Oh my God, you were so cute. Such a gentle giant teddy bear, that’s what you were. Without thinking about it, Keigo rushed back, catching you a little off guard when he walked around the car.

“You know, I might be a little drunk, but fucking God – I want to kiss you SO. BAD. right now.”, Kei said without hold back. His golden eyes gleaming in the dark and his cheeks flushed, you didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or if he was blushing.

You, on the other hand, were very flustered, yet you barely whispered, “Maybe you should…”

Which only made Hawks giggle and raise his arms. An almost… seductive grin on his lips.

“Then you should help me out a little here, Handsome!”

Was he a bit drunk? Possibly. Was he overly flirtatious because he truly liked your personality and found you attractive and DEFINITELY wanted to meet you again?... Probably. But someone as straight-forward as Hawks was exactly who you needed because of your tendencies to overthink everything. Especially when it came to your weight and thus attractiveness. (Even though the one didn’t have anything to do with the other though not when it came to society.)

And so, you accommodated him by leaning down. Takami himself standing on his tiptoes, thus, after he had hoped all night long, his lips finally met yours. His small arms wrapped around your big, broad shoulders and your big hand was placed on his lower back. That’s what he had wanted. And it really happened. To say Keigo was quite euphoric was an understatement. He was ecstatic, overjoyed, jubilant and so much more – and that from a little kiss. He surely fell quick and hard. Something he had never experienced before.

After a few moments of pure delight, you were the first to pull back, just to watch Kei bite his lip in such a sexy way it took all of your control to not grab him and pin him onto your car’s hood.

“Thank you.”, he just whispered, still with that grin on his lips, “I really enjoyed myself, too.”

Then, he let go and you did as well, this time really just watching when he turned around and walked into the apartment complex with one last wave. So you got back into your car as well, the last minutes replaying in your head over and over again.

With your hand covering your face, you had to hide your stupid, big grin. If all of that was just a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. Someone found YOU attractive. You had deemed yourself the most unattractive, undatable guy and that only because society had always told you that. But he didn’t care. He liked your “undatable, unattractive” body just the way it was. And not only that, after a rough start, you got along so well. You loved his little laughs, his beautiful eyes and those soft lips-

“God I have never felt like that before, what the fuuuck??”, you mumbled to yourself, still in disbelief that night even happened.

But as you drove away, you heard a little noise that came from your phone and as you looked up, you quickly scanned the text before looking back onto the streets – a wide smirk spreading across your face.

The message read.

“txet me wehn yruoe home so i konw yuore hmoe safe!”

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@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: let’s appreciate all shapes and sizes. being a short and rather stumpy man myself, ive been struggling a little with how i view myself ever since my relationship ended. ive been casually looking on apps but i think I am not ready for another relationship yet since my last one was rather messy. anyways. I know you shouldn’t rely on others to feel validated and loved but loving yourself is hard, bro so… yeah, its nice being desired for once, no? also this kinda makes me wanna write a part two but eh we’ll see!

part 2.

#salemswriting.#hawks #takami keigo #hawks x male reader #bnha x male reader #hawks x reader #chubby male reader #bnha x reader #bnha

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yyuuna · 3 years

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i’m not sure if your requests are open ( ignore this if they aren’t :00 ) but the fake dating trope witj todoroki and bakugo bdjnebfb

fake dating

—fake dating with them

includes: s. todoroki / k. bakugo

pairing: various x reader

genre: fluff

disclaimer: lowercase intended

warning: swearing

a/n: i triED 🏃🏻‍♀️ i’ve seen tropes like this all the time but i still couldn’t get it done nicely but here u go,,

—todoroki

despite having literally no idea about what’s going on, he’s no snitch

simply doesn’t care

will submit to ur plans because he’d think why not?? a friend is in dire need of help, so why shouldn’t he help?

ok, on to the story

as u were walking down the hallway of the school building’s second third floor, u spot someone

his name is sora, ur stalker during middle school—he’s rly creepy

by creepy, i mean he used to harass you with his undying love during lunch time, touching you whenever he can, bombard you with diabetes during valentines day, invading your privacy, lying to everyone that you’re together

a squeak make its way out to escape from your lips as your widened eyes stare at sora

thankfully, the joyous screams and boisterous laughs coming from the school fair had weakened his senses, thus not being able to immediately see your cowering figure

he was hard to shoo away back then

despite being able to defend yourself from him back then, him being annoying is rather intolerable

so u sneakily go down the stairs cz u dont want sora to notice nor harass u

buttttt sora caught sight of you—after all, you’re the reason he came to UA’s school fair

“[name]! come back here!” he yelled, jogging to make his way to you

ur run suddenly accelerated tenfold

u kinda caught todoroki’s attention bcz ur shoes were clacking rly loud on the floor

todoroki was just standing there, looking at u

he just got out of the classroom

“oh thank god—todoroki!” you gestured to him as your panic withers away

well at least until sora’s voice stiffened you again

“[name], let me talk to you.” sora grabbed your shoulder rather too harshly

“what do you want? why are you even here?” u back away, but he only gets closer

“what, didn’t you miss me?” he smirked, contradicting the disgusted scowl on your face

todoroki awkwardly stood there, silently watching the exchange

“c’mon, everybody knows we’re together, so i wanted to take you out with a couple of friends” sora took ahold of your hand, caressing your palm

honestly, you just want to go home

so your eyes swiveled at anything but him, looking for nothing in particular

until ur sight lands of todoroki

“shou~can we go to our date now? im rly hungry” u interlocked ur hand with his as u escape from sora’s hold

ok, he was genuinely confused but uh

“uh sure...” todoroki said

sora scoffed “psh, him? ur boyfriend?”

at this, todoroki’s ear started to heat up—and no his quirk is not in on this

he does have a crush on u, but he doesn’t know he actually has a crush on u. all he knows is that he admires ur strength and many more traits than he does to anyone else

“whatever, we’re still not done, [name]” sora smirked, his finger seductively tracing your jaw before leaving u two

todoroki obviously sensed the danger, pulling u closer to him

“i’ll walk w u” he stared at u

u two started walking towards the exit of the campus, not bothering to separate ur hands—which is most likely his idea

“uh, thanks...sorry about earlier. i didn’t mean to use u—well i kinda did but he’s creepy”

“okay” he casually said

nearing the exit, u began walking to the opposite direction, only to be stopped when he didn’t seem to let go of ur hand

“i thought u were hungry?” he asked

“no i—well yeah, im hungry but it was also with the pretend part, right? i mean, we aren’t together to go on a date” u chuckled awkwardly, though his face stayed indifferent

“date...? is that so....” he trailed off, looking down in thoughts “then if you’re hungry, we should go on that date”

he’s cluelesssssss

“eh? well sure i guess...?”

“okay”

that’s ur first date. by first date i mean there r following dates

—bakugo

sooo im not sure if this is exactly fake dating but the concept is there,, skshjs i need more ideassss

kinda aged up? i mean u two r on an official mission

he’s the type of person who’s against fake dating shit because it’s “fucking stupid” but honestly, he inwardly don’t mind at all

anyway, the group of villains u two were assigned to catch was in a high official party (a ball of some sort), so obv u attend there

as u two were slowly getting information, leading them where u can easily catch them without getting the civilians’ attention, u heard one of ur enemies’ micro transceiver (walkie talkie microchip things on their ear)

“enemy is wearing a fur coat, has [h/c] hair that’s tied up, and is around [height] feet tall” said the person on the other line

the enemy’s eyes widened, but before he could catch u, u ran towards ur partner, bakugo, and pulled him to one of balconies

“what the hell?!”

“they’re onto us!” u whisper yelled, hiding ur coat somewhere while taking off ur hair tie

u heard footsteps, perhaps they have already found out where u both went

“there’s no time!” u hissed, pushing bakugo on his knee

“OH MY GOD...YES! OF COURSE I’LL MARRY U!” u excitedly chanted

“huh?”

bakugo was about to throw profanities when the enemies entered his peripheral vision

u saw this too, but the enemies seemed like they were still about to pester u two

lmao so u pulled the blond up, laying ur face on the crook of his neck to imitate a make out session

and ur right thigh laid against his hip before u pulled his hand to grab it

his other palm encased ur waist, helping u

u can feel his heartbeat accelerating as ur body rests against his own

and ofccc pda makes people uncomfy

“sir, we lost her” u heard one of the enemies relay before they leave them

ur breath fanned his neck as his ears figuratively burned

“get off, dumbass” though his words were harsh as a sand paper, the way he pulled u away, on the other hand, was gentle as a feather

“u know once the agency learns about this, they’re gonna send your annoying ass with me all the time for fucking missions” he scowled despite actually wanting to have u as his partner

“yeah...probably some fake couple missions”

tags; @mayukhii @innersooya

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Disarming (Santi x fem!reader)

Summary: you and Santi - good friends- are Best Man and Maid of Honour at Frankie’s wedding, and guess what? There’s only one bed!

What is this? This is 5/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. The prompt is “We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend”, requested by @woakiees. Another double trope extravaganza! Hadley, I’m so pleased you suggested Santi for this one, as he immediately came to mind when I was writing this prompt :D Thank you so much for requesting! <3

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Apparently I get carried away EVERY time I write Santi. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?! :-/

Word count: 7.5k. I’M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Rating: 18+ ONLY (minors out, please, do not read or interact)

Warnings: it gets angsty in the middle. Reader has nightmare- comfort offered. Mentions of reader being “hurt” in the past but vague and unspecified. They have a fight. One or two alcohol mentions- no actual consumption. Food mention. Swearing. Steam leading into smut but not explicit- mentions of masturbation, erections, making-out, one brief allusion to choking kink. Let me know if I missed anything.

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @casifer-is-king (loads of the tags aren’t working :-/)

GIF: @nathan-bateman

From the first moment you met Santi, you had simply fallen into step with him. It was effortless, and so, as soon as you found yourself by his side, you stayed there. What’s more, that’s exactly where he wanted you to be.

Despite the man’s hard, no-nonsense edge -which you also appreciated- he was warm and charming. It was easy to connect with him, in a way it hadn’t often been for you. For him too - or so the boys told you - the way you surpassed his defences was a rare thing. It shouldn’t have worked, perhaps. Usually, he was slow to trust and you were quick to love, but on this occasion none of that seemed to apply, the two of you tumbling squarely into a fast-friendship; one deeper and more intense, perhaps, than its duration might suggest. Still, despite the boys’ inferences that you would quickly become an item, and Santi’s continual attempts to blur the lines between this and… something more, “friends” is what you have remained.

You had felt it immediately with him. Something different. You simply... flowed. You fit. It was immediately evident, even on that first night, in the way you orbited around one another, setting up an impromptu beer pong of all things. You moved together with a fluidity and a precision that seems almost tactical- as though you too had run countless manoeuvres in the field with him. You could read him and understand him as though you had drilled his habits and patterns and idiosyncrasies over and over; learning him. However, he was never that much effort - the two of you came naturally to each other, little learning required. You knew each other with your gut.

At that fateful party, when you each escaped to the back porch steps for some air at a serendipitous moment, the conversation had immediately flowed, and not only as a result of his natural, disarming charm. The silence even came easily rightaway – a comfortable thing, the space between you stuffed with contentment, rather than the feeling of a gaping vacuum, needlessly filled. It turned out his best friend was dating yours (the pair to be wed this very weekend) but that almost seemed like the cherry on top, rather than the thing bringing you to each other.

Safe to say, what was true then is true now. You get on so well. You find him fun and easy and generous and you love the man dearly.

…Most of the time.

Those other times, though? Santiago “Pope” Garcia can be a pain in your ass. But that’s another reason you love him, you guess. Keeps things interesting.

“Please don’t kill me,” Santi says sheepishly, and it’s obvious to you he’s laying on the charm - actively trying to be as disarming as possible as he saunters over from the reception desk. For a moment, despite all his training, he looks as though he believes you could pull it off, too.

Your annoyance is already prepped; locked and loaded, as he pads squarely towards the banquette where you are sat - amidst a sea of luggage. You’ve been observing his attempts to charm the desk clerk with interest (his efforts, you surmise, at least partially effectual), and judging from the slight level of desperation in his efforts, you can already tell he fucked up somehow.

“What did you do?” you say impatiently, even as a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I booked all the rooms we needed, for all of the wedding guests, right? 13 rooms here, and all 10 at the hotel across town. 4 more in guesthouses,” he recaps. “Got Frankie and Mila a great deal too, remember?”

You remember. And yet, you fold your arms across your chest, looking up at him incredulously. Okay then. Rolling with your attitude, the man takes a different tack. He sits next to you. Smiles. Leans in. Pats your thigh. He’s trying to disarm you too, you realise. It’s going to take more than that - you’re not some flimsy desk clerk who will form a puddle and bat your eyes at the first sign of his charm.

“Well, funny story. I may have forgotten to book our rooms,” he blurts.

Oh? Oh, great. Yeah. This is a grand fuck-up. The whole damn town is booked-out. It’s a small town. No longer amused, your nostrils flare in annoyance as you tug in a slow breath, schooling your tone just a little before you speak. “You what?” Okay, you didn’t manage to school it all that much.

“Look, I already sort of fixed it,” he smooths. That explains the flirting with the clerk. Although, you think, glancing back at her. She’s pretty. That partially explains the flirting with the clerk, then, you mentally correct. “There’s just one, teeny-tiny issue.”

You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes. Well?

“We’re gonna have to share a room.”

You blink at him a few times, in surprise. Well, it’s not ideal. For a number of reasons. But you can think of worse things, truth be told. And he’s not wrong. It is a solution. Still, on his reveal, a succession of emotions and micro-assessments are bounced back and forth between your eyes and his, until you land on resigned annoyance, exhaling a long sigh. That is, until Frankie appears in the lobby, swanning in like he’s walking on air. He probably is, given that he’s getting married this weekend. His face splits with a smile so wide you reckon it should be painful to maintain, and you stand to greet him as he heads over.

You’re glad he’s happy. It means that you and Santi, as Maid of Honour and Best man, respectively, are doing a fantastic job of deflecting all of the stress away from the happy couple. Indeed, that assessment certainly feels true – you do feel stressed. Still, the two of you immediately paint your faces with masking smiles; though, in fairness, it’s hard not to smile while looking at Frankie – his obvious joy is infectious.

Frankie wraps you both in a hug, then rubs his palms together like an excited kid. “I don’t have much time. Just gonna say a quick hello to my parents. Apparently, my mom’s already started crying? Can you two sort some extra tissues for the ceremony or something? Oh, and is everything okay with the rooms?”

“With this guy? Are you kidding?”, you say before you think, throwing your thumb towards Santi. Immediately, his eyes submit a powerful plea to you to keep schtum- it is written all over his face that he doesn’t want to let Frankie down. Not even in the smallest of ways.

Frankie would find his little error funny, probably. But he can find it funny after the ceremony. “Everything is A-OK! This guy? He has every single detail taken care of.”

Frankie grins, his eyes narrowing proudly at Santi as he slaps him on the back, laying profuse thanks on the two of you; then, he floats away again, as if on a cloud. Santi’s brown eyes are big with gratitude when you look at him again, and you can’t help but weaken. You’ll admit, it’s really not that bad of a fuck-up. Besides, you’re tired. Between the drive out here, the wedding rehearsal, and a never-ending list of errands, the day has been long. You just want to get to the room, and maybe even clock a snooze before the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Fine,” you agree, albeit through gritted teeth. “We can share a damn room.”

Santi looks visibly relieved, and squeezes your shoulder in thanks. You’d even been nice enough not to bite his head off. “Yeah. We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound quite as certain.

“Sure. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” you smile nervously.

He returns your smile and swivels, heading back towards the desk.

“Oh, wait!” you call after him. “Is it a double or a twin?” you ask in horror. Sharing a room is one thing, but sharing a bed?

He turns, looking over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter!”, he winks. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna have to take it.”

Oh. Oh dear.

You’re inclined to agree -you don’t have many options- but when you catch yourself stealing a glance at the man’s shapely butt as he walks back to the desk, you begin to chew your bottom-lip nervously.

Right. Ha.

What could possibly go wrong?

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

It turns out, sharing a room with Santi is resoundingly not bad at all. In fact, at first, it’s as easy as everything else is with him - even between your hurried preparations for the evening, unpacking, shuttling items to the relevant members of the wedding party, and calling down to reception several times to check the logistics for the rehearsal dinner. Even getting dressed, you find an easy flow as you each flit in and out of the bathroom, dancing around each other with ease and only a hint of friendly bickering.

Santi’s respectful too- always knocking and announcing himself before entering a space, and averting his gaze when he needs to, given that you’re rushing around and undressing. You even manage to ignore the fact there’s only one bed for the longest time, parking that specific panic for later. Even then, he has already made reception send up extra pillows and blankets, forming a barricade in the middle of the bed so you two can comfortably separate.

Thankfully, you are so busy that the idea of sharing a bed with Santi doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re finally ready, dressed in your finery. When you step out of the bathroom, Santi -sat on the edge of said bed- stands up, thrusting his hands into his suit trousers as he takes the sight of you in, pulling the material taut -in a rather pleasing way- across his hips and thighs. He ends up slightly slack-jawed for a moment as his eyes trail over you, brewing with a gentle, self-conscious heat. “Fuck,” he says softly, his voice gruff. “You look…” a little gulp trails down his throat as you give him a little twirl. “…hot”, he says, his eyebrow ticking up on the last beat.

“Wait until you see my bridesmaid dress,” you smile, and he returns it easily, those gorgeous creases appearing around his eyes.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. You can’t help but wonder, vaguely, what it would be like to push him down on to the mattress. Maybe straddle him. Fuck, you should have known this would be a bad idea. A heat rising in your face at that thought of that, you distract yourself by lifting his suit jacket from the back of the chair, holding it out for him as he slips it on to his shoulders, and feeling the luxurious texture of it beneath your fingers.

It’s a grey suit, tailored, and it hugs him in all the right places. The cool colour is perfect against his warm-toned brown skin, and brings out the salt in his salt-and-pepper curls, and in the rough rasp of grey flecked through his stubble.

You try desperately not to notice how good he looks, but this may be your greatest challenge yet.

“Come on,” you encourage, nodding towards the door. “We better head down.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, half-heartedly. The way his eyes are subtly roving over you, though, he looks like he has something entirely different in mind for dinner.

“You’re probably going to spend all night being chased by the single bridesmaids,” you add casually as you collect your purse, and apply a final dab of lipstick in front of the mirror. You’ve already clocked a few members of the wedding party eyeing him up, and you don’t exactly blame them for being thirsty. Besides, Santi is a huge flirt; so perhaps he’ll be the one doing the chasing. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night with his tongue thrust deep in someone’s throat, which -you assume- is typical Santi fashion.

“Isn’t it traditional, anyway,” he smirks cheekily, applying a splash of cologne, “for the Best Man to hook-up with one of the bridesmaids?”

Lord, does he have to smell so… edible.

“Got news for you, man. You fucked up. You can’t exactly bring a girl back to your room now, can you?!” you tease, nodding back towards your shared bed, a wall of pillows already arranged down the middle. You mean it to come out in good-humour, but you can’t scrub the hint of jealousy from your tone entirely.

You feel so silly for being jealous of whomever he may hook-up with. After all, Santi is always the one testing the boundaries of friendship with you. It’s not like he’s ever made a secret of the fact he’s attracted to you- and you are the one here will a firm line in the sand. A line you simply won’t cross with him. Can’t cross. You want to - of course you do, but after being hurt in the past, you have simply built-up far too many defences; or, more accurately, just the right amount of defences, you think, to protect you. So, no matter how disarming the man is, you simply have to keep your guard up; because if he breached your walls, you know everything else would come tumbling so easily down.

You had fallen so easily into friendship with him, and you are certain that you would fall just as recklessly in love with him.

You’re not ready for that.

You can’t take being hurt again. Besides; Santi? He’s an incredible friend. He’s tenaciously loyal and dedicated to his squad. But when it comes to love, and sex, you doubt whether serious is even his thing - and you’re too afraid to ask.

“You ready to do this?” he asks, with a wink.

“Yep,” you nod. “Let’s roll,” and with that, you turn, heading for the hallway.

“Princesa- that dress really highlights your ass,” he praises as he tags along behind you.

“Thank you, it’s true,” you smile devilishly, already beginning to let your guard down, just a little. He’s simply so disarming. “Speaking of, Garcia – did you get your trousers a size too small on purpose?”

“Oh, you noticed?” he retorts, smugly, guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back.

Okay. Sometimes you flirt back. After all – look at him.

Especially in that damn suit.

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

The rehearsal dinner goes swell. Frankie and Mila are a picture-perfect, loved-up couple, and they grin their way through the evening as if they slept with coat hangers in their mouths. The speeches are well-received, including Will’s, thus setting a high bar for you and Santi tomorrow. (You may be biased, but Santi’s is ten times funnier, and it’s going to kill, in your opinion.) There are no dramas through the evening- logistical or familial, and thanks to you and Santi overseeing everything with a military precision, it looks as though -so far- it is shaping up to be the perfect wedding weekend.

Finally, once your duties are over for the night, you are able to let your hair down a little, so to speak, and enjoy the food and company on offer. Still, with a big day ahead tomorrow, things wind down relatively early, and -having lost track of Santi at some point- you find yourself back at the shared room a little while before him. You usually burn out more quickly than he does in social situations, but even taking that into consideration, you begin to fret about where he has gotten to. With the way he was flirting his way through the party, though, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what (or who) might be keeping him up.

You try to sleep but you can’t, your mind going to the worst places, so, by the time Santi does return -softly cracking the door, and padding in with his shoes in his hands so as not to wake you- you have stewed in your own thoughts long enough to have become a little cranky. A little… green-eyed.

“Hey,” he greets in surprise when he enters, immediately noticing the soft lamp glow, and seeing you still sitting up in the bed, mindlessly watching the flicker of the tv on mute.

“Hey,” you return, your voice noticeably strained. “Have a fun time?” You find yourself wishing you weren’t sharing a room, then you wouldn’t have to know what he got up to.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. “Did you? How come you’re still up? Thought for sure you’d be wiped out by now.”

So, he did think of you, then?

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply neutrally, fixing your eyes dead ahead as he begins to slip out of his trousers and shirt too, until he’s dressed in only his tight black boxers. Next, he takes off his watch and sets it at the bedside, and you notice that he smells of perfume. A cloying, floral scent that makes you feel a little sick.

“Just gonna have a quick shower and then I’ll slip in with you, okay?” he says, his voice slow and deep and muted, matching the soft light.

You still don’t look at him. You can’t.

“Do what you want. You usually do,” you bite, the words tasting bitter as soon as they have left your lips, and tears of regret pooling as your anger dissolves.

You don’t blame him if he was with someone – you really don’t. You’re simply angry at yourself; because you wish you could be that person, and you can’t for the life of you seem to find a way.

“Okay. What was that for?” he bristles, reacting defensively, turning towards you. And perhaps it’s because it’s late and he’s tired, or because certain demons feel safer coming out under the cover of darkness, but he doesn’t stop there. Especially when all he gets from you is a stony, pointed silence. “You know what? Actually, no. You don’t get to do this”, he hisses, and it is the first time you’ve ever heard him direct any genuine anger at you.

It doesn’t half sting.

“Do what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“You don’t get to be mad when I give my attention to someone who actually wants it,” his voice is hushed, but his words rattle through you as if he had yelled them. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Guess what, I’m not yours.”

“That’s not fair”, you snap back, and then things are quickly escalating.

“Isn’t it?” he asks, rasping a hand over his stubble in distress. “I mean, come on. Shit. You know that I want more but I…” he exhales a disgruntled laugh. “You shoot me down, which is your prerogative, honestly, but you can’t have it both ways. You can’t knock me back all the time and then be pissed off when I look elsewhere.”

You meet his face, the planes of it shadowed and angled harshly with anger, suddenly so unfamiliar to you, and it causes your eyes to bloom with tears. You two look the opposite of Frankie and Mila; of a picture-perfect couple. But you’re not even a couple at all, are you?

You see him try. To blunt the emotion which is bubbling up. To soften. But he has uncorked something he now can’t put back in. “Fuck, I just wish that….” he pinches his lips together and shakes his head, planting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor. “If you don’t want me, just put me out of my fucking misery. Just say it. Just fucking tell me.”

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces at the thought you make him miserable. At the way his voice breaks. At the way he thinks you don’t want him. Maybe you were wrong, thinking that you could be friends at all. Thinking that could be enough for him.

Your lower lip trembles, and your fingers clutch the edge of the blanket. “I… I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you that I don’t want you, Santi.”

You can’t because it isn’t true. It could not be further from the truth, in fact.

He puffs out air, an exasperated sound, his hand raising up to tangle in his grizzled curls. Raising his voice a little more. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me the other thing either?”

“I.. I..” You try, but no words will come. You simply shake your head, swallowing a sob, your eyes almost brimming over.

He nods. He nods, his mouth slanted down. “Great. Got it,” he huffs.

You hate this. You hate how much you’re hurting him.

“Santi,” you breathe weakly, but it is too weak to blunt the force of his emotion. To halt his trajectory, and so, resigned, he turns towards the bathroom, grabbing-up a fresh white towel from the counter. Before he closes the door, he turns to you once more, now speaking softly, his eyes as sad as yours. “You know,” he says, his index finger sawing back-and-forth over the stubble at his chin. “For the record, I wasn’t with anyone else. I can’t even fucking think about anyone else but you. I was late back to the room because I couldn’t face it.” His voice becomes small and pained. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to just curl up next to you and act like I don’t care.” His eyebrow ticks up, and he adds, with a final flourish. “Guess I should have taken a lesson from you.”

Oh, how it stings, pain flowering in your chest like a bruise, but you hold yourself together until he’s out of sight. Then, when he’s gone, you immediately cave in on yourself, falling on to your side and screwing your eyes shut, clamping your hand over your mouth so that he can’t hear you crying as wet tears spill onto your pillow.

When he comes back into the room, after a long shower, you simply screw your eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. You hear him sigh heavily, and mumble something to himself under his breath, before dragging a few pillows and a spare blanket down on to the floor.

A few more silent tears roll over the bridge of your nose.

You guess you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him after all.

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

You wake panicked in the night, sitting bolt upright in the bed. A cold wash of sweat over your skin chills you, even though you feel like you’re burning-up.

Immediately, you reach for him, for Santi, calling his name even as your fear strangles the sound in your throat. Your heart is thudding, and your breaths are sawing in and out of you, but your grasping hands find nothing to your side but pillows and blanket.

Unfortunately, you are used to this occurrence, and you quickly realise it was “only” a nightmare. Still, the feelings and images it conjured linger in your body, and around you in the shifting, seemingly fluid shadows of the room.

With a release of tension, you whimper, leaning forward and cradling your head in your trembling hands, and you try to ground yourself. To steady your breath and your heartbeat, like you’ve practiced. As you do so, the shadows to your left shift and change, and, even in the pitch-black you can feel him, a safe and warm presence, instantly travelling to your side, his weight dipping the mattress. His soothing, sandy voice filtering through the shadows and cutting back the tendrils of your nightmare like a Disney prince hacking through cursed vines.

You vaguely remember that he’s mad at you - but you can’t help it. Can’t help asking. “Hold me?” you plead, desperately afraid that he won’t.

Still, without questions or hesitation, you feel the wall of remaining pillows coming down, the defences around you quite literally being dismantled – a figurative wall between you shifting away along with it. He shushes you, and you focus on his voice, until he is close enough that the scent of him wraps around you, before his arms follow closely after.

You reach for him in return. You reach for him in every way possible.

“It’s just a nightmare,” he soothes. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you,” and there is pain in his voice on your behalf, as if he tries to bear the burden of it for you.

“Closer,” you plead, and before you know it, he is shifting you on to your side, slotting his sturdy yet soft body around you, not caring that you feel clammy and hot against his bare skin. He simply loops his arms and draws your back, closer to his chest, becoming your big spoon.

He calms you, hands enveloping yours and bundling them against your chest, his nose nuzzling into your hair, and his deep steady breaths slowing your breathing as you let his calm and his rhythms overcome you. He holds you, until the feelings pass, not caring how long it takes – and with any anger from before apparently forgotten.

This pain is all too familiar to him, you know. It something that Santi understands. It is your own and it is not the same as his, true, but you know it is familiar enough that he will feel the ache of it echoing in his own chest. You know that he is accustomed enough to bearing his own pain, that when yours is too heavy to carry, he will help you hold it for a while. And so, he holds you, while you are a tender thing, bruised and afraid, and he keeps you safe; with all your walls down, all of your defences collapsed, he becomes your fortress.

You never thought that letting yourself be so vulnerable could allow you to feel quite as safe as this.

As you lie together, Santi continues to usher soft reassurances into your ear, his words like charms and incantations to ward off the ghosts which haunt you. And, after a series of slow, stretched moments, you become more settled, and Santi feels you relax against him.

After a few moments more, he eventually whispers a small question into your hair. In the dark, the question feels safe to come out, perhaps.

“Do you always call for me when you…?” he trails off, thinking better of it. “I’m sorry- forget it, you don’t have to answer that.”

You don’t. You know you don’t. You don’t even truthfully know the answer. It’s likely that you do call for him, though how would you know, when you’re usually alone? But, there is something else you can tell him, while it is safe to come out in the dark. Something you want to tell him, before you build your walls all the way back up.

“Santi,” you begin, timidly, and his fingers skim softly up and down your arms, encouraging you to go on. “I-I’ve been hurt before. And, I want to be with you. I want to let you in but… I’m. I’m not ready. I’m trying so hard but I… I can’t.”

There is a long beat, and you realise he has held in a breath only when he releases it all at once, fanning hot across the back of your neck.

You are afraid. Afraid of what he might say, in response – what he might feel, but you think, maybe, it might be something like relief? And, Santi squeezes you, just a little tighter. A little closer. “Don’t worry about that now, okay?” he soothes, his voice feather soft. “Just… know one thing, okay, Princesa? Whenever you are ready? I’m waiting.”

This time your heart fills with a different emotion, all the spaces in it flooded with contentment, Santi’s words followed by a perfect, happy silence.

A soft smile blooms on your face.

It was not a confession of waiting impatiently, you understand, but an invitation to take your time to arrive at him. He’s not trying to bring down your defences at all, is he? He’s waiting for you to open the door, and invite him in. He’s waiting until you are ready. He simply needed to know that you are on your way, even if your footsteps are getting you there slowly.

For now, though, the thought of it is too much. More than you’re ready for.

So, you simply let him hold you.

To disarm you further.

To walk yourself a little closer toward where you want to be. With him; by his side.

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

In the morning, you wake up tangled around each other, Santi’s arm wrapped securely around your back and your head settled on his chest. He is still snoring lightly – cutely - when you awake, and so, as the night prior comes flooding back to you, you hastily try to extricate yourself from him; even if his bare skin feels so good against yours that you never want to move. You’re apparently not so subtle- or he’s a helluva light-sleeper – as, just when you pull away, Santi wakes up, quickly rushing to prove his innocence.

“You had a nightmare,” he croaks, still trying to peel his eyes open. “You asked me to- “.

“-I know. I remember,” you reassure, sitting up in bed, the blankets tugged to your chest. Santi shuffles, opting to assume the same position on his own side, mirroring you, rubbing his eyes.

You’re still not sure whether to apologise to him or thank him. Or maybe even to wait for an apology from him? Christ. Maybe all of those things or none of them, who even knows? You mentally spin a wheel and land on a casual “Uh. Thank you, for…. You know.”

“Anytime,” he says, turning his head to the side and looking at you earnestly. As if your bickering -your jealousy and his outburst- is all but forgotten. What’s more, you know that he means it.

Admiringly, your eyes wander over him, enjoying a side of him you’ve never quite seen before. Apparently, he’s even more handsome in the morning, with an even thicker, darkened brush of stubble, his grizzled curls dishevelled, and his swooping eyelids still heavy from sleep. Combined, it gives him a sultry, bedroom look. Feeling an involuntary rush of heat in the pit of you, your gaze drops to his corded neck, where, given the special occasion, he has substituted his dog tags for a silver chain, drawing your gaze down over his smooth, brown chest.

Your skin now cooling in the conditioned air of the room, you long for his body heat again, recalling how it felt to be held by him and wishing you had lingered a little longer while you could. Even with your interrupted sleep last night, you have somehow woken feeling refreshed, as though you had slept unreasonably deeply in his arms, reaching a whole new level of contentment - as though you just fit together, perhaps. As though it comes naturally for you to be held by him, and for him to hold you.

There is a silence and it isn’t awkward exactly; more… pregnant, with possibilities. Possibilities you see brewing with a gentle heat in his eyes. So, tearing yourself abruptly away from that line of thought, you lift your phone up from the nightstand, and note that there isn’t long before your alarms sound anyway.

Operation Wedding Day is go.

That should be enough of a distraction for you, shouldn’t it?

“You ready for this, Best Man?” you ask him, with a gentle quirk of your lips.

“Sure. Are you ready, Maid of Honour?”

Ready. Are you ready?

Thoughts of last night swirl in your head.

Well – as Santi flashes you a tentative, disarming smile, with hooded eyes, you certainly feel like you’re getting there. Like soon you could be ready.

“Sure. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Atta girl,” he encourages, folding his arms behind his head as you jump out of bed.

You suddenly don’t care that you’re in nothing but your underwear, as you stretch out your body and track towards the bathroom. “I’ll shower first?”

“We’re sharing a bed,” he teases. “Sure you don’t want to share a shower too?”

You scoff, flashing a mischievous smile right back at him. You’ve always had a soft spot for his flirting, but you feel like -after all that transpired last night- you truly see if for what it is now. You realise why it has never felt like he’s pressuring you - not once. He’s simply reminding you, that as soon as you call for him, he’ll be there. That he’s waiting, when you’re ready.

Reminding you, that as soon as your walls drop, he’ll be your fortress.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get quite that lucky this morning, Garcia.”

You do linger in the doorway, just a little longer than necessary though, so that he can get a better look at you. He’d never look without permission – he proved that yesterday, when you were in various states of disarray- but this time, sensing your invitation, his eyes graze over you slowly, keenly. So, when he strategically moves his hands from behind his head to hide the tenting covers, you don’t mind at all.

You smile devilishly as you slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You’re not sure if he will… take care of himself out in the room – how could you know? But, feeling inspired, you certainly do so in the shower, and it’s a pretty great wake-up call before you face the wedding day.

Maybe sharing a room isn’t so bad. Maybe you could even get used to it.

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

Frankie and Mila get hitched without a hitch.

Santi goes to the ends of the earth to make sure that Frankie has the best day possible- and at some points, he goes even further than that. His speech was moving and flawless, and pretty fucking funny; even if you are a little (or a lot) biased. Not a dry eye in the house, just as you predicted.

The man adores Frankie with his whole heart, and you could barely hold back the glow of admiration as you listened to him, feeling like it might burst from your chest like a beam of gold sunlight. You felt it especially strongly every time his eyes met yours during the course of the speech, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself stupid each time he did so. And, of course, you were overjoyed to see your best friend have the day of her dreams, with the man of her dreams. If you do say so yourself, you think your speech was pretty killer too.

Suffice to say, you ate until your belly was full, loved until your heart hurt, laughed until your sides ached, and danced until your feet ached.

Tonight, unlike last night, you and Santi retire to your shared room at the same time, your arm linked into his, and your shoes carried in your hand to spare your sore feet – there’s a reason you never normally wear shoes like this. Without your heels though, you keep tripping over the hem of your dress almost every few paces, causing you to giggle and Santi to steady you with a warm, rich chuckle, sometimes throwing you an extra hand to assist you.

You look over at him, furtively, as he recounts some of the more choice moments from the day, immensely enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing him talk and smile and laugh. Seeing him happy. Of course, enjoying how he looks too, you have to admit - even more handsome than he did yesterday (somehow) in midnight blue dress pants, and a white, crisp shirt, now tieless. He’s only grown sexier as the evening drew on too, now with a wide open-collar and rolled up sleeves to accommodate all of the dancing; or, at least, as much dancing as his knees could handle, until he’d simply opted to sit to the side and watch you boogie, his eyes apparently transfixed on you and only you - the advances of the other bridesmaids be damned.

There is something that hits different about the way he looked at you today. His admiration shining deeper than usual. Less like a casual lust, and more like something… serious. You’re not sure why you doubted it before, exactly. Why you have been so inordinately afraid that he might hurt you. You broadly figured him for a smash and dash type of man, which is fine, but you have every reason to believe that he wants more with you.

After all, Santi can be deeply and tenaciously loyal. He has dedicated himself to things deeply and unwaveringly several times over in his life. To his country, to his missions, to his morals, to his squad. And there’s something about the way he looked at you today, you think, that suggests he might dedicate himself to you with the same tenacity. Something far deeper than appreciating how you look in this bridesmaid dress (and oh boy do you look hot). It’s more like the way he looks at Frankie. A little different to that, obviously. But you’re realising he looks at you like he’d never let you down. Not even in the smallest of ways. Like he’d rather go to the ends of the earth -or beyond- than do that.

At least… you think so.

You are sure about one thing though. The way he looks at you? It’s thoroughly disarming.

And so, you arrive at your shared room, utterly wiped out from the day (and night), yet still somehow buzzing with an energy. A gentle suffusing heat under your skin as you watch Santi walk inside and kick off his shoes at the end of the bed, before turning back towards you.

You have entered a few paces behind him, after nearly tripping on your gown all over again by the door, but now, you are quite steady on your feet - aside from that slight, nervous tremble in your quaking legs as he looks at you like that. As Santi looks you up and down, eyes skimming over the contours of your dress and hence everywhere it hugs your figure. Evidently, he likes what he sees.

“Wow,” he breathes, his brown eyes shining as if he’s looking at you for the first time that day, even if his gaze has barely left you all night. “I know it’s the bride’s day, but you look fuckin’ smokin’, sweetie.”

“You think so?” you ask humbly, suddenly feeling unreasonably shy. Flustered even.

“Yeah. I think so,” he nods, positively certain. “Shit, you’re so beautiful.”

You look at him. You look at him in a way which suggests an answer in your eyes instead of a question. A clear intention in your body, instead of uncertainty. But he doesn’t push you. He doesn’t assume. He doesn’t make a move. Instead, his mouth tugs up into a lopsided smile, offering you a lazy flash of teeth, and he shoves his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Well, we’re officially off the clock now, so I’m calling it. Well done, Maid of Honour. Think we nailed it? Made a pretty damn good team?”

A smile lights your face. You did. You flowed. You fit. It was easy.

Fuck. It feels so easy. Why had you ever thought this would be hard?

You nibble on your lip, eyeing him with intention, and a hard swallow trails down his throat in response.

“Off the clock, hmm?” you say breathily. “No more titles or duties? Huh. That’s a real shame.”

“How so?” he asks, his eyes devouring you alive, but his body fixed resolutely in place. Transfixed to the spot.

“Because it’s traditional for the Best Man to get with one of the bridesmaids, isn’t it?”

A slow, disbelieving smile inches over his face, and he looks at his feet, a little bashful. “Gross tradition. Kinda sexist,” he says, and your gaze fixates on his full, curving lips. On his hands, poised and broad at his belt.

“So, you don’t want to make out then?” you ask in your most sultry voice, mere breath.

The man huffs out a quick, broken exhale. “Fuck me. You know I do, sweetie. But only if you’re ready.”

Ready. Are you ready?

“Santiago,” you say, with conviction, your eyes dancing between his. “I’m ready.”

Santi searches your face one last time, just to be certain. He’s sure, of course – has been for a long time, but he needs to know that you truly want this. That you want this now. So, he looks at you, and he finds nothing but permission. Even so, after so long, he still can’t quite believe it. He would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe – or beyond – and, so dammit, he will ask you again.

“C-can I..” he begins, and his voice already sounds choked; hollowed out with need. “Fuck, Princesa, can I kiss you?”

Too long. Too long without moving. Without touching. Too long.

If you were suddenly ready, his kiss becomes even more suddenly overdue.

“You’d better,” you encourage, feeling like vapour. “Unless you want me to do it first.”

With permission granted, you expect him to be on you, with a surge. All at once. But Santi has been patiently waiting for you long enough. He can wait just a little longer, and, when he subtly tips his chin up, ever so slightly, and when he near growls “come here then, honey,” somehow, it is perfect. Somehow, it is a thousand times hotter that he makes you come to him.

You lift the hem of your dress, and you pad delicately towards him, feeling like you are wading through molten honey to get to him, the air thick and sweet.

“That’s it. Come here, baby,” he encourages, with a curl of his index finger beckoning you to him, his voice curling in the pit of you, making you feel weak in the best way possible. Making you feel spent before he’s even done so much as brush you with his hand or his lips.

You close the remaining distance with your steps, the anticipation too much, and your legs feeling so weak from the reckless lust and the light, liquid softness in his eyes. By this point, you are begging for his arms to reach out and clasp you- to hold you up; make you secure and safe in him. You are begging for his lips to sink down on to yours. But he makes you wait, through a few more slow, stretched moments. Makes you inch your mouth closer and closer until your lips are almost skimming his. He makes you wait until you are moaning his name into the air before he has even touched you.

“Santi.”

And, if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that when you call for him, he is always there to take care of you.

You know he will take care of you.

With that, his name a plea, he swoops his broad, large hand up until he is holding you, his fingers closing around your jaw and your throat, trailing down your neck. His touch is painfully gentle, but in a way that makes you want him to squeeze, a little harder. In a way that makes you push yourself ever so subtly into his hand. A way that draws a silken moan from deep in your chest, and Santi is moved to dip the pad of his thumb into your mouth, where it meets your wet and willing warmth. When your tongue skims him, humming as you taste his saltiness, that seems to be the final straw, a wrecked groan sounding from his throat, and finally he surges on to your lips, leading with his tongue, thrusting into your open mouth and drinking down every sound and moan he can draw from you, his stubble rough against you. You don’t care if he leaves you raw.

It’s tender, and it’s gentle, but Santi knows all about control, and you can tell he’s holding back. His hands are lethal, and he knows just how to kill you softly; but, you are certain, that if you want more of his power, he’ll give it to you. That he’ll take care of you however you like.

So, he kisses you more deeply, harder, and you go near limp against him until one of his arms wraps at the back of your head and one at the small of your back, making you feel a feeble thing, waning in his arms as his large hands support you. Except; you’re not feeble though. You’re not by a long shot, and you know exactly what you want.

“Santi,” you suspire, letting him walk you back against the wall, pressing his bulging arousal into you as more wrangled sounds and little grunts slip from his parted lips.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, already sounding wrecked for you.

“There’s only one shower. Wanna share?!”

Even as he releases an endlessly eager, disbelieving breath, his eyes keenly search your face, checking you are ready. He watches, enraptured, as your lips curl into a deliciously sinful smile.

“You know. We don’t have to rush this,” he insists, even as he shivers with need, closing his eyes and biting his lip when you angle your hips to brush the tenting bulge at his crotch, ever so fleetingly, his hips bucking into you immediately in pursuit of more pressure.

“I know,” you say coolly, your body an undercurrent of frenzy, but your mind calm and sure. You push him back, with your palms to his chest, making room for you to about-turn into the bathroom, shimmying off your dress as you go and letting it waft to the floor like a sigh. Looking at him over your shoulder, with lust-blown eyes, you leave Santi stood there, entirely dumbfounded, as you reveal all of yourself to him.

You retreat, but once the water is running you call out to him, wondering where he has got to. “Take a hint, Garcia. If you’re ready? I’m waiting.”

And, he doesn’t waste another second before joining you.

THE END

(BONUS: Outfit inspo, if you wanna imagine him in the suits a lil better 😉)

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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sei-hoe · 3 years

Text

manager pt. 2

first of all, thank you for all the love on the first part of this series. it really warmed my heart 🥺this part is incredibly self-indulgent omg. just the thought of tendou’s delicious hands/fingers makes me act up. 🥵like damn.

Reader x Tendou Satori feat. Ushijima & Semisemi

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

TW: language, nonconsensual touching maybe?? creepy behavior?

WC: 1.5k

Summary: After deciding to become the new Shiratorizawa manager, the reader experiences her first practice with the team andplayswithtendousfingersohlord.

3 o’clock had rolled around and you found yourself walking to the practice gym Tendou had described to you. You wanted to make a connection with someone, you wanted to make friends. The sound of volleyballs bouncing off the floor, sneakers squeaking, and deep voices soon hit your ears. You had arrived at the gym.

Tendou had hoped you would come later that day to practice. Earlier in the day after his conversation with you he began to reflect on what led him to you in the first place. You were a new student about a month into the school year and were beautiful, it was hard not to notice you. You didn’t really make any friends though; even as several months went by. But that was fine by Tendou, you’d have all the friends you need in no time. In all honestly Tendou was looking to get his dick wet. And since you were a new student and were unaware of the Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team's unsavory reputation, it made you the perfect victim.

You peeked your head in the doorway of the large practice gym, silently observing the team. Tendou was in the middle of a conversation with Ushijima and Semi off court while the rest of the team was warming up. You couldn’t help but stare at the three of them, all immensely attractive in their own way. Ushijima was god-like in his build, all muscle with his tan skin and dark green eyes. Semi was hot in a conventional, fuck boy kind of way. Lastly, Tendou was all lanky, lean muscle with long extremities and large crimson eyes.

You couldn’t hear what they were speaking about, but the three of them looked very engaged in the exchange. “I can’t believe you haven’t noticed her Ushiwaka!” Tendou spoke. Tendou went on to describe you to Ushijima and Semi. Both of them nodding their heads as he spoke. “She would be the perfect little stress reliever for us”, Tendou smiled, “especially you Ushiwaka -- she has quite the thing for you”.

“Whatever... just keep quiet about the whole thing.” Ushijima commented while he and Semi walked off to practice with the rest of the team.

“Aye aye Captain!” Tendou saluted.

-----

“H-hi Tendou”, you spoke softly as you walked into the gym.

“You decided to join us! I’m so glad!” Tendou met up with you as you walked over to him. He slung an arm around your shoulders as you looked up at him.

“Yeah, I think being the club manager will keep me busy...ya know...give me something to do,” you explained.

“That’s great to hear! Let me introduce you to the team!”

Tendou went on to introduce you to the whole team. They made you feel so welcome, as though you were a part of something. It made your heart happy. Maybe moving to a new school wasn’t so bad after all. The first and second years looked to Ushijima to say something to you.

“We’re happy to have you Y/N”, He announced curtly. You momentarily dazed off while looking at him, he was so stoic and handsome. Like a mighty Greek god blessing you with his presence. If you were being honest the thought of being closer to Ushijima vastly swayed your decision to join the team.

He discussed the current practice goals with the team before breaking up from their huddle. You walked over to the bench to begin filling up their water bottles from the brightly colored water cooler.

“Hey manager”, Tendou said with a lazy smile. “You mind helping me with something real quick?”

You nodded happily as Tendou pulled out a roll of white athletic tape from his pocket. “I need your help taping up my fingers.” He wiggled his fingers in front of your face.

Knowing little about the sport had put a confused look on your face. “I-” Tendou sensed your confusion and cut you off. “I play the middle blocker position so my fingers are bound to get a little banged up during practices and games. The tape prevents any injuries.” He hands you the tape and takes a seat on the bench. “I just tape my pointer and middle fingers” He makes two peace signs to show you the fingers he’s referring to.

You giggle at his gesture. Tendou smiles, “come here”. He pulls your arm toward him so that you are standing between his legs as he sits on the bench, your knees touching the cool metal of the seat. Your cheeks heat up and your mouth feels dry. He grabs your hand in his and positions your pointer finger so that it’s in an upright position. Using your finger as an example, he begins tracing around your finger, “this is how you want to do it…nice and slow…but tight as well...” He continues tracing, his eyes never leaving yours. Your hands begin to sweat as your heart rate increases. His hands must be twice the size of your own. Long and bony, knuckles bulging from his skin, a couple of scars here and there. Your skin tickles where he is touching and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing as he continues. “...making sure not to miss a single spot.” Tendou releases your finger and holds up his left hand.

“Ok, your turn now!”

You begin to unroll the tape and take his pointer finger in one hand, wrapping the tape around as he instructed with your other hand. His fingers are warm and calloused and so so long. You almost miss a spot on his finger when your mind wanders, wondering how far those fingers would be able to reach, much further than your own. You snap out of it when Tendou tells you to move on to his middle finger.

Your daydreaming continues as you finish up both hands. You concentrate hard, making sure not to miss a single spot. You barely notice Tendou beginning to get fidgety, assuming it’s because you’re taking too long you begin to apologize, “I’m sorry I’m taking so long, I’ve never done anything like this before.” You look at Tendou only to look down to see a massive tent in his gym shorts. Quickly looking up, your face turns beat red. “O-oh-kay...I think I’m finished now,” you stutter.

Tendou raises his hand up to his face flipping them around to inspect both the front and the back, “You did a great job! Thanks Y/N!”

“Tendou! Quit fuckin’ around and get out here!” Semi yells from his position on the court.

“I’m going to need a second!” Tendou calls back, Semi rolls his eyes, suspecting what is taking place on the bench. Tendou lowers his voice, “Look what you’ve done to me”, he sits back lazily on the bench, hands on his thighs, his erection on display.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you quickly exclaim. Tendou sits up and grabs your hands. You’re still standing in between his legs, so close. “No need to get defensive, I’m not angry with you...quite the opposite actually.” He rubs small circles into the palms of your hands. You start to back up, his legs tighten around yours, effectively trapping you from escaping.

“Tendou, get out here,” Ushijima repeats Semi’s request, “practice is starting.”

Tendou stands up, towering over you, “I guess we’ve got to cut this short.” He reaches his hand in his gym shorts to situate his hard cock between his lower stomach and the waistband of his underwear, effectively hiding his erection from his teammates. “Can I drive you home after practice? We can pick up where we left off?” You nod slowly, blinking up at him, “Yeah, okay”.

“Great!” He exclaims. “How about a kiss for good luck?” He holds one of his bandaged fingers up to your mouth, pushing into your plush lips. You purse your lips slightly and give his finger a soft peck. Tendou smiles his lazy smile, eyes half-lidded and lets out a soft groan and jogs onto the court.

Semi and Ushijima look to Tendou as he gets in position, then they look at you. Your face is red and your thighs are pressed together, you’re trying so hard to not look affected by Tendou’s flirting, it’s adorable. Semi laughs and shakes his head as Ushijima continues looking at you. You catch his eyes just as he turns away from you. There was something unfamiliar there, the stoic captain rarely conveys any emotion, but nevertheless, you saw something. Jealousy? Anger? You didn’t know.

A whistle sounds and practice begins.

#tendou satori x reader #tendou satori x reader smut #tendou satori smut #tendou x reader #tendou x reader smut #tendou smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #shiratorizawa #shiratorizawa smut #im getting better at tagging

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isabellabrodar · 3 years

Text

Rely on You✖️JJ Maybank✖️

word count: 1573

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drugs, death/loss

JJ Maybank x Reader; JJ Maybank x John B’s sister

Everyone in my family has left me at some point. My mother ditched us for Colorado when my brother and I were only three years old. John B took that pretty, hard but I knew we were better off without her. Caring for her children wasn’t really a strength of hers anyways, so we barely talk about her now.

Then our dad went away to find the lost gold on the Royal Merchant and never came back. This time the loss of a parent broke me. I didn’t dare hope that he was just stranded somewhere, slurping on a coconut and waiting until someone comes to get him and although his body never was found, John B and I silently agreed on moving on. Accepting that your dad died isn’t the easiest thing for two teenagers to do. So I tried to lose myself in school stuff and John B took over our household. I think it was just his way of coping with the situation, but it became annoying pretty quickly. Every time our friends came over, it seemed like he was trying to prove that he was taking care of me.

And then he died. Or at least we all thought he and Sarah did. But turns out they were alive the whole time and now everything can go back to normal. But losing almost everyone that you have learned to rely on hurts you in a way that cannot be undone.

I was gripping the red plastic cup tightly as I tried to make my way through the dancing and drinking crowd. My eyes were moving rapidly over every face nearby, searching for my brother’s hazel eyes and curly brown hair. But I didn’t see him. So I pushed further into the mass of people until I passed a group of Kooks, standing on the edge of the boneyards, seeming to be staring at a girl dancing her heart out only a couple of feet away. I usually would’ve said something to them but I just walked by, my breathing becoming quicker as I whispered John B’s name over and over again.

When I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder, I turned around in a quick motion.

“John B?” I said before I looked into clear blue eyes.

“No, Y/N. He left about five minutes ago with Sarah. They’re fine.” JJ’s voice was calm but his look was drenched with worry and his grip didn’t loosen up as my breathing slowed down a bit.

“Sorry, J. I…I just didn’t know where he was. I was…I am sorry.” I felt a small tear of relief roll down my cheek as the panic started to die down and JJ moved to put a strand of my dark brown hair behind my ear.

“It’s okay. No need to apologize, smarty. We’ll go home yeah? I’ll get Kie and Pope.” I could hear a slight slur in his words, probably coming from more than just a couple of beers. Other than that he sounded tired and I knew that was my fault.

“No, J. I can get home by myself. Let them enjoy themselves, I don’t want to ruin the whole evening.” I put the empty cup on a rock wall next to me and straightened out my white summer dress. JJ looked me up and down once and then shook his head. I knew he wasn’t going to let me walk home alone after that panic attack.

“I’ll tell Pope that we’re going home. Meet you at the truck.” And before I could argue once more, JJ was already on his way over to our friends who were chatting with some other Pogues that I had seen before at school. So I went back into the crowd and saw that one of the Kooks from earlier was now dancing with that one girl and his friends weren’t staring anymore but looking around for something or better someone else to watch. I made my way over to my old truck, dodging several elbows and spilling drinks, while thinking about all the other times the panic had taken a hold of me and JJ had been there to help me.

Our friendship used to be very easy, I would say. We met through John B in third grade and have been inseparable ever since then. With the others we would go surfing almost every day but when it came to talking about serious matters, JJ and I usually kept to ourselves. Occasionally I had noticed the forming bruises on his cheeks or ribs whenever he came back from his house, but he always said it was nothing or an accident and I didn’t pressure him into telling me more, although I made it a point to come with him to his house as often as I could, so his dad wouldn’t get a chance to touch JJ.

And in return JJ didn’t ask about my nightmares that would wake me up every night after we thought John B and Sarah died. He’d move closer to me on the mattresses that we put into the living room for us four to sleep on. Kie and Pope mostly slept at their houses though, which was good, because then I didn’t have to explain myself to even more people. The problem is, that even after my brother and Sarah came back, the nightmares didn’t stop and I started having panic attacks when I felt like I lost them again. Just like at the party. And since JJ was the only person who knew about that, he felt obligated to take care of me.

This is pretty far away from us calling each other smarty and pretty boy, reducing each other to what people mostly noticed about us and never talking about anything besides parties, surfing and how many grams of weed we would need to get for the next tour on the HMS Pogue.

I grabbed a hoodie from the passenger seat of my truck and closed the door again when I heard footsteps approaching.

“You know I am fine. No need to deprive all these pretty girls from their favorite pretty boy.” I said in a mocking but tired tone whilst nodding my head towards the dancing crowd. JJ was now standing next to me, smiling.

“They can wait ‘till the next party. Let’s go home.” He held out his arm for me to loop mine around and then we started walking through the Cut. This kind of intimacy between us had become normal, but it never seemed to be anything besides friendship and we were both grateful for that. The summer air was cold on my legs and small goosebumps started to form on my skin.

“You really need to wear more… I don’t know, fabric I guess.”

“You sound like my dad. Or worse, like John B.” A small laugh escaped his lips as we made our way further along the street, arms still intertwined.

“I think you should talk to him about your nightmares.”

“And I think you should tell your dad he can rot in hell.” He let go of me and put a little distance between us.

“Damn, Y/N, I get it. Don’t talk to John B then.” It always came to this. Both of us telling the other what to do and to confront their problems, but we couldn’t do it and then we would get pissed off at each other, but that’s just the way our friendship worked.

We got to John B and I’s house a couple minutes later, which we had spent in silence. I opened the door and went straight towards John B’s room. The light was turned off already and I saw him and Sarah sleep peacefully. That’s when my heart beat finally went completely back to normal. When I stepped into the living room I saw JJ sprawled across one of the big mattresses. He was still wearing his clothes but that didn’t seem to matter to him.

“I’m going to sleep in my room today, J.”

He mumbled a quiet “ok” and turned his back towards me as I stepped past him.

I was standing on the beach and watched John B and my dad go into the waves on a small boat. Then thunder started and the heavy rain made it hard to see anything out on the ocean. There was lightning and then suddenly the sound of the thunderstorm stopped as I saw the lightning hit the boat that my family was on. Then they were just gone.

I woke up, breathing heavily with sweat on my forehead. My room was dark but I could hear quiet steps coming towards my bed. I scooted over to the side and started to relax as JJ planted himself next to me, still fully clothed. I laid back down and closed my eyes as the boy next to me but his arm over my side and started to calmly breathe onto my neck. This is something that has happened a lot the past two months. Always the same dream, the same horror in which I woke up and then JJ being there and helping me back to sleep just by getting closer. But this scared me. How can I let myself rely on him when everything that causes me pain comes from the people that I am closest to disappearing, getting hurt or leaving?

✖️Soo, I usually don’t write but I just wanted to try it. I know this is not a complete story or whatever and it’s kind of all over the place, but if you guys like it, then I might rewrite it or add more:)

#jj mayback x reader #jjmaybank #outerbanks #obx #obx s2 #jjmaybank imagine #rudy outer banks #rudy pankow #john b #imagine

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joaquinwhorres · 3 years

Text

Stitches & Blankets (Joaquin Torres x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› You find Joaquin Torres after he tries to stop the bank robbery.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,000-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› OK, why are there not more Torres fics? I'm legitimately confused about that. Also, I realized after writing half of this down, that a bank was robbed, so there were probably still police on the scene and the reader'd probably be speaking Swiss-German but uh...fan fiction.

There was a body in the street, which was not what you expected to see coming out to your car.

You'd heard the wailing sirens and shouting and the thunderous footsteps--they're what kept you pressed against the side of the building for the past ten minutes, avoiding the chaos as much as possible. It wasn't fear that kept you there though, it was experience. You'd become used to the quick riots and little skirmishes for resources over the past few months. You knew it was better to stay out of the way, wait out the storm, and then go about your life. They became nothing more than minor nuisances. Bits of unrest that were there and then gone in the next instance. They weren't supposed to leave a body behind.

"Meine Fresse," you murmured, racing forward to the person lying supine on the stones, arms out to their sides, the white of their sneakers reflecting the street lights. As you drew closer, you saw it was a man--about your age with blood around his eye and nose and lip. For a brief second, you wondered if he'd been trampled, but he definitely would have looked worse for wear based on how many people you'd heard.

"Bist du okay?" Your voice was loud as you checked over the rest of his body. He didn't seem to have any other injury, and there wasn't any blood under his head, so you decided it was safe enough to gently shake him.

He didn't rouse.

So, instead you knelt your ear down to his lips, laying your hand flat on his chest. You felt your hand rise before you heard the slow intake of breath, and you rocked back onto your knees. He was breathing. He was alive.

Still, something gnawed at the back of your mind, urging your fingers up under his jaw, gently pressing into his neck. It was only then that you felt a surge of relief. His pulse was there, and it was strong. He was really alive.

And then you remembered that you should probably call 112.

All things considered, it was a quick phone call--the operator seemed to know your exact location and vaguely what had happened as you explained where you were and how you found him. Instead, most of the conversation was spent listening to their instructions to roll him into a recovery position and check for any signs of life-threatening injuries. When they told you that you could hang up because they were close, you did so and found the man blinking at you.

"Hoi," you greeted soothingly. "Wie heisst du?"

He groaned, attempting to roll onto his back once more. You reached out a hand stopping him, and he looked up at you confused.

"Comment t'appelles tu?" You attempted, hoping he wasn't an Italian or Romansch speaker. You hardly knew enough of either language to tell him you couldn't speak it.

He winced and lifted his hand to his face. "Shit."

English. Good.

"What's your name?" you asked, and his eyes seemed to focus on you once more, this time a spark of recognition or maybe just awareness lighting up behind them.

"Joaquin," he informed, and you released an arm, allowing him to finally roll onto his back like he wanted. He had a strong American accent, even through the gravelly voice of barely regained consciousness. "Did they get away?"

"Ähm," you looked around at the empty street. "Yes?" you guessed.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna have to call some people."

"I think you should wait for the ambulance."

"Yeah," he agreed, the word breathy and pained. "That's probably a good idea."

"What happened?" you asked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking back at you.

"Flag Smashers."

"I didn't think the Flag Smashers hurt people."

"I'm just lucky, I guess," he answered, and you smiled, letting out a small laugh. He offered a small smile as well.

You could hear the siren now, the faint sound winding its way through the curving streets of Zürich and towards the two of you. Your head turned towards the sound, as if you could trace it back to the ambulance, and gauging the distance. "They should be close," you said, returning your attention to Joaquin.

"What's your name?" he asked, and the question surprised you. Then again, if the two of you were stuck waiting for an ambulance at nine o'clock on a Sunday night, maybe a bit of small talk shouldn't have been so surprising.

"Y/N," you answered, and he repeated it.

"You're very pretty, Y/N."

The laugh escaped you on instinct, although to call it a laugh might not be the best descriptor. It was more of a surprised noise, partially exhale and a tinge of amusement added through the slight smile at the corner of your mouth.

"Thank you," you said. "You are very pretty too."

And he was, underneath the dark red and rapidly purpling injuries. He had a strong jaw and kind eyes, and even the hint of a smile he'd given earlier had made something in your chest constrict.

"I don't feel so pretty," he responded, and this time your laugh was more of a laugh, and he reached up to feel at his face. You took hold of his hand, bringing it back down and trapping it in yours.

"Pretty enough for me to hold your hand," you joked, hoping to distract him from continuing to poke and prod and break all of the rules and instructions the EMTs had given over the phone.

"Well, I got that goin' for me, I guess," he said, letting his hand relax into yours.

Headlights bathed you in a warm yellow light as flashing blue lights bounced off the surrounding buildings, illuminating the rest of the street.

There were some shouts as the doors of the ambulance opened and people poured out, running towards you and Torres. The paramedic crowded around quickly, a blonde bearded man asking quick questions in German.

"Er spricht Englisch," you explained, and he nodded, switching languages.

It became apparent as police officers pulled up and flooded out of their cars that you were no longer needed. You stood up, backing away and letting Joaquin's hand slip through yours.

"You're not going to stay and hold my hand?" Joaquin called out to you, and you let a smile curl across your lips. Around you, people were starting to come out onto the street, lured by the sounds of the sirens and lack of shouting and general ruckus. Your eyes fell back on Joaquin who was still looking up at you, even as a paramedic flashed a light into his face.

"Maybe he can hold your hand," you said, gesturing to a paramedic who had slid into your place. Joaquin gave half a smile as you turned and left him in the hands of the professionals.

As you rounded the corner, arms full of blankets, the last person you expected to almost run into was Joaquin.

Part of the surprise was the kind that generally accompanied running into someone outside of the context you know them in. A larger part of the surprise was the fact that he was not in the hospital.

Instead, he stood before you, face swollen, bloodied and bruised, with the small white bandages of butterfly stitches above his right eye. He blinked at you, as if he was caught in the headlights.

"Pretty Joaquin," you said, surprise ringing through every part of your voice.

"Y/N."

At least his memory wasn't affected by whatever the Flag Smashers had done to him. His response time was also quicker than it had been two and a half hours ago, and he seemed all in all more present and less hazy. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." Your own surprise and mild confusion had not quite worn off. "What are you doing here?"

For a variety of reasons, he was not the typical person who stumbled into the Zürich GRC Refugee Camp. He was both too young and too old and far more put together than a normal incomer. He didn't have that haunted look behind his eyes that made your heart wrench. He looked battered and bruised but ok.

"I need a place to stay."

Your eyes ran over his form, from his fluffy dark hair and banged up face to his bright white trainers. You lifted an eyebrow. "The hospital wouldn't take you?"

He shook his head with a sheepish grin. "It's just a broken orbital. Not much else they can do for it." Your eyebrows didn't lower and he gave half a laugh. "Trust me I'm as shocked as you are."

"I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

He winced. "Any way that could wait until tomorrow? My head is killing me."

You stared intently at his face. Over the past four months of working at the GRC camp, you'd gotten good at reading people. You had an eye for knowing who was going to be trouble down the line and who would need some extra comfort and care. You knew who to push about their stories, and who to wait for--to be there as they slowly unraveled their tale.

So while there was a lot about pretty boy Joaquin that just didn't add up, you could see in his eyes that he could be trusted to stay the night. Just not here.

"You can't stay here without going through intake," you shook your head. "But if you really need a place to sleep, you can come with me."

"Really?" Joaquin asked, turning to follow you as you set back off towards your car, and you nodded.

"It's nothing special--just my couch. But I've been told it's very comfy."

Joaquin faltered a step, slowing down. "You're sure you want me coming and bloody-ing up your couch? I could just stay here and leave before--"

"I'll put down some papers," you said jokingly in an attempt to cut off the subject of him staying at the camp.

"Ok," he said, his voice distracted before there was a quick shuffle of footsteps and he caught back up with you. "Ok, thanks."

The two of you arrived at your car shortly thereafter, Joaquin moving to sit in the passenger seat as you dumped the blankets in the car. You came around to slip into the driver's seat, quickly backing out of the spot and setting off back home.

"So what's with all the blankets?" he asked, pulling his attention from the streets and buildings and back to you.

"We got a late donation tonight," you answered, flicking on your turn signal. "They needed someone here to help organize the drop off and then our washing machine broke, so I have to take work home with me." You smiled at the joke, but he just nodded, leaving you to wonder if maybe your English was off. The next few moments passed in quiet before you checked over at a traffic light to see if he was still awake. He was, but he looked dazed. Maybe he had been telling the truth about his head. You eyed his injuries which looked even worse in the red light. Like his entire right side of his face had been smashed.

"So what brought you to Switzerland?"

It wasn't the question you wanted to ask. You wanted to ask him what had happened with the Flag Smashers--why had they beaten him up so badly. But you weren't sure you were ready for that answer or if he'd even give it. So you asked a question you didn't care if he lied to you about.

"I was looking for someone," he said, and the light turned green, causing you to turn away and focus on your driving rather than him. Still the sentence seemed to end earlier than his thought as you could feel the weight of more words hovering between you. It was a familiar pressure in your ears and your chest, and you'd long grown accustomed to the discomfort.

Like many, Joaquin didn't give the thought words to escape on.

"A refugee?" you asked, and he wobbled his head.

"Yes and no. She survived the Snap."

"She?" A small feeling like a tight wire cord wound its way around your chest and a warmth of embarrassment flooded the back of your neck. "Your sister? Your wife?"

"No," he shook his head. "My grandmother."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you for the first time.

"What's her name? If she came to the camp I should know her."

"Mariana Torres," he answered, and you ran through the array of faces you'd met. There was a Mariana Böschl , but she was old enough to be his mother, not his grandmother.

You shook your head slowly. "I can check the registry tomorrow, but I don't think she's with us."

"Thanks," Joaquin said, looking back out the window at the passing city. "Were you Blipped?"

"No," you shook your head, pulling into your designated parking spot by your apartment. "I was lucky." The two of you climbed out of the car, and he met you by the trunk, pulling the blankets out before you could reach for them.

"Thank you," you said. And he gave a small grin.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

You gestured with your head up the stairs, heading to your third floor apartment.

Joaquin trailed behind you, arms laden with the blankets, waiting patiently as you stopped and opened the door. "Welcome to my home," you greeted, allowing him to enter before you. Your small apartment was dark, and you flicked on the light so that Joaquin could walk further inside without running into a wall or your table. "You can put the blankets by the couch, I'll wash them tomorrow," you instructed, and he did as you suggested before wandering over to the couch.

"I think I have an extra pillow in the closet," you said.

"Great," he thanked, dropping down onto the couch.

It took a few minutes to find the pillow and put a pillowcase on top of it. By the time you walked back out to the living room, the light was still on, and so were his shoes, but he was passed out. You walked over to the sleeping boy, placing the pillow down next to the couch in case he woke up and pulling the blanket over his body, your eyes once more tracing over his injuries.

You would have to speak to Karli about the violence.

#joaquin torres x reader #torres x reader #joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquín torres #lieutenant torres #lieutenant torres x reader #fatws #tfatws

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thevoidscreams · 3 years

Note

ok, so can i request quentin,yui, and felix with a survivor s/o! that’s a killers ex? like they’ll be in a chase together then the s/o and killer will stop and talk shit for 30 minutes while everyone else works on gens. or even worse if they are friends with ex (friends is pushing it, they’re on good terms because they’re scared for their frickin life), and will get along with killer during the trial and try to sacerfice them last. it can be any format, whatever works for you! have a great day/night! ❤️

(Sorry about any spelling or grammatical errors. Also the wait.)

Quentin:

It would be an understatement to say that you were the world to Quentin Smith. You were his go to pillar for support and he was yours. Life outside the realm had been hard but existence in the Entity’s realm was a whole over nightmare and it was one he couldn’t wake up from.

Despite all that, there was one good thing about this new nightmare, and that was that he got to spend it with you.

New people arrived periodically, as did new killers, but none of that seemed to bother you. Quentin had heard about the new monsters all the time from other survivors. Knowing that soon enough it would be something that he’d have to face. So he did his best to prepare. Staying with you when the Entity allowed, being calmed by your presence.

He despaired of being put in trials with you, the thought of hearing your screams as you were hooked, or watching you get downed by a killer’s weapon, it was simply something he could not become accustomed to. He loved you after all and seeing you hurt, especially by freddy, was unbearable. So his heart grew heavy as the fog that rolled over the camp swallowed you as well, depositing you alongside himself, Ash and Claudette in the AutoHaven. Grasping your hand he pulled you closer. “Come on, let's stick together.” You didn’t argue, squeezing his hand and giving him a soft smile.

That plan quickly went to absolute hell. The Entity’s unfortunate choice of killer this round made you want to pull your hair out.

Rin Yamaoka.

You'd dated briefly during your time as an exchange student in Japan. She was so beautiful and You'd fallen for her so fast. But it became too difficult to hide the nature of your relationship from her family and her father just about lost his mind when he discovered the two of you alone in her room holding each other. The jerk didn't even have the decency to knock, just burst in right as you kissed her cheek.

His yelling was still ingrained in your mind. His harsh biting words and the way he roughly grabbed you and quite literally threw you out of his house. Rin begging and crying the whole time for him not to hurt you.

You weren't allowed back over to their place after that.

The relationship petered out despite your best efforts to keep it alive with secret meetings in the park at night.

You cried when Rin officially broke things off. It was at one of your secret rendezvous, she kissed you one last time and told you that despite how her heart was so full of love for you that her parents disapproved and the students were starting to catch on. She didn't want that kind of ridicule to fall on you.

You remained close for the whole of your time studying in Japan. When you left she saw you off and you gave her one last hug. Then she was gone and you got on the plane and flew away, but you left your heart in Japan.

Seeing her now you were frozen, stuck in place as your mind flashed through all your memories together and the tragic news of her death. Tears streamed down your cheeks and fell heavy to the ground below.

Likewise she stood frozen in place just staring at your face. "Rin…" the sound of her name was heavy on your tongue but even heavier on your heart.

Slowly your hand lifted to reach for her so close you could almost feel the chill of her ghostly form.

Your body jolted as you were pulled away and forced into a run. The heat of the hand holding yours was so very unlike the chill of Rin's body.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" Quentin gasped, panic dripping from every syllable.

"a long time ago." You whispered as you ran with your boyfriend, through the exit gate and far away from the phantom from your past.

Yui:

Yui was a tough nut to crack but when she finally opened up you found a sweet and very loving interior. She was everything you could want in a girlfriend. The others remarked on the relative ease with which you had gotten her to fall.

All of the other survivors took up a bet whether or not you could romance her before you had managed to get all the killers in a trial.

Turns out those betting on before were right on the money. At first you had thought it was fine to not have had to face all the creepy monsters this place had to offer. Turns out not knowing made things all that much harder, or rather, more awkward.

Staring down Philip Ojomo was surreal to say the least.

Even as transformed as he was there was no doubt about it. The tall tree looking monster was your old boyfriend. To be honest he seemed just as lost for what to do about the situation as you.

"Uh… hi Philip." You waved a little, shyly almost and took a step forward. He shifted his feet as if to take a step back but stopped himself. "It sure has been a while huh?"

Your break up had been amiable, he was leaving to start a new job and your work was calling for you to leave as well, far away from the town with the junkyard and bloody car crusher that he had been called to.

"May we talk?" The question was completely unorthodox, and probably not a good idea.

Sitting down to speak with a man meant to kill and sacrifice you to the Entity. But you asked him nonetheless.

To your surprise he did. He sat with you on the damp earth and you both spoke for a long time, until the exit gates opened and you had to leave.

He offered you his hand cordially, and you accepted it happily.

At long last you had managed to catch up and had learned about what happened to each other. His story saddened you but it was good to finally know.

When you told Yui about it she was more worried than you'd ever seen her outside the trials. She drilled you for all the details about what happened. Only stopping when you managed to asure her that you weren't hurt.

But then her face took on a look you had never seen before. She look uncertain and almost insecure.

"You aren't still love in love with him are you?"

The question left you floored.

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh. "No Yui I love you. My feelings for him have long since passed. I promise."

You kissed her hard and the tension melted from her shoulders as she kissed back.

"Good," she said when she pulled away, "because I don't plan on sharing you."

Felix:

"For fuck's sake! Chase someone else for once!" You shouted over your shoulder.

Ghostface apparently didn't care about doing anything for the sake of fuck because he didn't ,infact, stop chasing you.

You heard your name being shouted from the other side of the map. Felix was helping Meg off a hook. He was calling out to you. "Just a bit longer, we're almost done."

You nodded and pumped your legs harder. Hopping a pallet you laughed as Ghostface swore behind you. "Sorry Danny guess you just can't keep up…. Like always."

"Just you wait sweetheart. Once I get my hands on you..." He growled as he crushed the pallet with a few heavy stomps.

"I don't think I have much to be worried about." You laughed.

"Oh yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah. I mean if you're as bad at killing as you were in bed then I'm gonna get out of here scot free." You cackled.

"EXCUSE YOU!?" His mask may not have been able to change but the rest of his body said it all. He was both offended and pissed.

"You take that back this instant you know damn well that that isn't true I was always…" he was absolutely raving behind you. Going on and on about how he had been attentive and how he always made you cum and on and on.

The last generator popped and you wooped happily.

"Oh you little fucker." Danny shouted as you made for the gate. "That is what I was!" You called back.

"I will hook your ass don't think I won't!"

He never got the chance as you dashed past the escape gate and out into the field beyond to join your loving boyfriend. "You okay?" Felix asked, taking your hand as you both slowed, nearing the survivors' camp.

"Yes I'm okay. Are you okay? I know he got a few hits in during the match."

His smile was warm and reassuring. "Yes I'm okay. Cluadette had a good med kit."

You leaned up to peck his cheek. "Good." You walked with him hand in hand into the camp and forgot about anything that wasn't being in his arms.

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

Text

The Night Shift part 10 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: back to work :( frankie and the boys are sweeties tho

W/C: 1.3k

Warnings: none I think but its late and i'm probably wrong so pls let me know if i need to add some

AN: this is just a quick lil filler chapter before a biiiiig one on either friday or monday, depending on when I finish it, but I wanted to get this one out because part 11 might be late because im very in my Feels about it (and i think you will be too)

Spotify

Part 1 Part 11

Frankie noticed every time your head snapped up, shadowy eyes darting towards the diner door. He noticed how your shoulders would lose some of their tension in relief whenever it was just a group of kids, or an elderly couple, or one of the people he’d come to realise were regulars to the diner.

You wore long sleeves tonight, telling him before leaving that it was to cover the ‘ugly ass’ bruise on your wrist. The less questions the better, you said with a smile that hadn’t reached your eyes.

Frankie carefully organised a stack of choc-chip pancakes on a gleaming white plate and set them on the window. You shot him a confused look – there weren’t any orders.

“You look hungry,” he told. Your face softened as you took the plate and grabbed a set of cutlery. It was nearing 1, and you were always hungry at 1.

“Do you know of any decent not-a-total-rip-off moving companies?” you asked after swallowing a mouthful. Frankie nodded.

“Yeah, me and the boys.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “No. You’ve already done so much I can’t ask you or any of your friends to give up one of their days just to get my shit back.”

“Well, yes you actually can,” Frankie countered, “and if the boys know something is important to me then they’ll help.”

“This is important to you?” Frankie fixed you with a stare and a raise of a brow. The look was one of pure are you serious right now? You threw up your hands and shrugged. “Okay, okay, I get your point. I’ll pay you guys, obviously.”

“Just a case of beer,” Frankie said. Tom might want money, but then against it was unlikely Tom would show up: he was leaving on Thursday. “Listen, just tell me the day you wanna do this and we will be there. I promise you that.”

You finished the pancakes and handed the plate back. “I was gonna let Lou know I wouldn’t be available on Friday night and get it done then.”

“Perfect, three-day weekend,” Frankie grinned. You smiled back, the first true smile he’d seen all night, and turned to greet a trucker who had just arrived.

Frankie grabbed his phone out of his pocket and opened the group text chat.

Catfish: Who’s free Friday for a favour?

Given the time, he wasn’t expecting an answer from any of them, so he was shocked when Benny texted back straight away.

Benny: Whatever it is, William and I are in. Even murder.

Catfish: It’s (probably) not going to come to murder. Just need help moving the girl I work with into her new place.

Pope: oh the 1 youre in love with? yeah ill help and ill bring that photo too

Frankie narrowed his eyes at the screen. He wouldn’t go so far as to say in love, so he decided to ignore that.

Catfish: It’s too expensive to hire moving ppl, so I said I’d help her, plus her ex is a cunt and I don’t know if he’ll try shit if it’s just her there

Pope: is she still there?

Catfish: No she’s staying at mine until she gets her stuff into her new place

Ironhead: Is this the guy you KO’d?

Catfish: Ok 1 why are you all awake? And 2 where did you hear that??? I didn’t KO him btw, but I could have if I felt like it.

Ironhead: I didn’t put my phone on silent

Ironhead: And I heard it from Benjamin. You know he loves gossip.

Benny: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Catfish: ????????? how did you do that?

Benny: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Frankie rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket. They were impossible to talk to at this time of night, and he could already see that the conversation would just go in circles. He would find out how Benny made that weird little face though.

“Hey,” Frankie waved to get your attention, “the boys said they’d be happy to help, and they’ve all got pick-ups so no need to hire a moving truck.”

You looked confused, your eyes darting to the clock. “You spoke to them already?”

“Yeah, they’re light sleepers,” Frankie said. “Old army thing, I guess.”

You cleared your throat and blinked rapidly, “well, uh, let them know I’ll buy them all dinner as well as a case of beer each and money for gas. Whatever they need.” Frankie knew the boys wouldn’t accept your money, but he also knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer. This was something you could sort out Friday, he decided. If he was being honest, he was interested to see how would win that battle of wills. His money was on you. His money would always be on you.

~*~

“Can we go to the store quickly?” You asked, climbing into the truck next to Frankie once your shift was over. You were beginning to think of it as Your Spot now. Your spot, next to him, so close that if you wanted to you could reach out and hold his hand, lean over and kiss him.

“Yeah, what’d you need?” Frankie pulled out of the tiny diner parking lot and onto the road. Your cheeks heated slightly.

“A rotisserie chicken,” you mumbled, staring at one particular spot on the dash. “Sometimes when I’m . . . going through emotional turmoil I just need to eat. And I want a rotisserie chicken more than anything else right now.”

Frankie grinned his white toothed smile and you felt a little better about your habit. “That sounds like a fantastic idea, we should get two, one each.”

You smiled back, buoyed by the idea. The one and only time you had brought this up to Kurt, he had shot the idea down, grabbed your sides and commented on your weight. You knew there was nothing wrong with your weight, that there wasn’t no matter what size you were, but the comment hurt nonetheless.

But now you sat here in Frankie’s truck, and he seemed delighted with the idea of eating a whole rotisserie chicken in one sitting at 8AM. He drove to the grocery store, singing along to Stevie Nick’s Edge of Seventeen.

“I’ll go in, you wait here,” Frankie flashed you with a grin and raced into the store. You sat back, relaxed, and closed your eyes. You had been happier in the past twenty-four hours with Frankie than you had been almost the entirety of Kurt. You found yourself imagining a life with him; dinner at his cosy table, a new record playing every night, talking about your day at whatever jobs you had. Life with him would be comfort, it would be home. Your heart quickened at the thought of laying beside him each night in bed, bodies pressed against each other, skin against skin, delicious warmth -

His return snapped you out of your thoughts, the sight of him sent a rush of heat through you. He held a plastic bag in one hand, and keys in the other. “Should we eat these here or at home?”

Home.

The word sent a shiver of hope up your spine. Like he was saying it could be your home too. You moved an inch closer to him, so your thighs barely touched. It was electric though, the kind of touch that felt dangerous and familiar at the same time.

Your eyes met his and you wondered if he was feeling the same thing.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209 @quica-quica-quica @pintsizemama @phoenix-of-loki

#the night shift #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader

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maybebanks · 3 years

Text

Hurting - part 4

link to part 1

link to part 2

link to part 3

jj maybank x reader

Previously: JJ and Y/n’s relationship is tested after the mental and physical difficulties of Y/n’s secret. She’s been an expert at hiding them, but now, he knows, and she has to face all her demons, and letting JJ think bruises are hickies is what she decided to do, to avoid the truth.

You didn’t need to get a job, because you were a ‘kook’ now. So what were you going to do with your summer? It had to be out of the house. And it couldn’t be with your best friends, the pogues.

You brushed the setting powder over your neck and jawline. Taking a deep breath before heading downstairs for breakfast.

You couldn’t face your mom, you were just going to grab some food and leave.

“Honey,” you heard a deep voice say.

You jumped and turned around, “um, yes sir,” you frowned, looking down at the ground.

“You’re mother took an early flight and I’m having a meeting here, so you need to stay in your room today,” your step father stated.

“W-wait, mom’s gone?” Your voice was shakey. You didn’t even get to explain the whole JJ situation.

“Yes.” He said impatiently, “look, doll, I don’t have time for you right now! My associate will be here any minute and if he sees you, we will have a problem,”

You didn’t understand, but you listened.

“Can-can I just get my bag? It’s in the front..um room,” you asked, meekly.

“Damnit you idiot!” He shouts, his fists clenching. You squinted your eyes on instinct, knowing he wants to punch you, knowing you were seconds away from pain.

The doorbell rang.

“Fuck. Get the hell out of my face,” he shoved you aggressively, then left your sight to get the door.

You stumbled, landing on the stairs, on your side. Cursing on impact.

You quickly got up, grabbed your bathing suit and ran out the door. Deciding to escape to the beach.

You put on your navy blue string bikini and quickly dove into the waves. It was weird because the last time you were here, you were with JJ.

He’s always been so sweet to you and you never knew why. Your first day on the island, when no one would talk to you, he came up to you. And being the established, well-liked person that he is, others followed.

You were very shy at first, and JJ didn’t know the real you until about a month in. But he didn’t give up, he was perfect.

You came up for air again. The salt not stinging your eyes.

Friendship. You’ve never had anything close to it until you met JJ.

But it’s too late. He’s gonna stop trying after what you’ve done, after what you’ve let him think you’ve done.

“You cheat on me?”

“W-why?”

“Answer me.”

“JJ...I think you should go,”

“Y/n.��

In your head it was the right decision. But in your heart? You’d die without him.

“Hey! Catch any good waves?!” Someone shouted from the shore.

You turned around from wading on your surf board. Waving to the boy at the shore.

A head of shaggy, long-ish brown haired boy seemed cheery. He threw off his button up and jumped into the waves.

You sighed, you were going to have to talk to this stranger. You almost didn’t have the energy.

“Why haven’t you been...around?” John B asks. You were surprisingly comfortable around him. He was your friend, you just didn’t notice at first.

“Just some...family stuff going on,” you shrugged.

“Ohh right. JJ told us!” He remembered.

“He-he what?” You stutter, afraid of what he might know.

“Yeah, he said your mom was coming home and she hasn’t in a while. That’s really all he said,” John B shrugged, flipping his hair after.

You felt like crying. Your mom wasn’t coming home, she was visiting for less than 12 hours.

“Hey...what happened to your leg?” He asked, swimming closer to you.

“Nothing, haha don’t uh..worry about me. How are..how are you?” You changed the subject.

“Well...oh shit! Did I tell you! I fucked uppp bro! I kissed Kie-“

“You did?!”

“Yeah! And she totally rejected me,” John B admitted.

“Did she like swerve? Or like push you?” You asked, curious about a normal thing for once.

“Nah, we kissed and then she pulled away, and said the no pogue on pogue macking rule. Fuckin JJ found a loophole with that,” he joked.

“A loophole?” You questioned.

“Yeah. Because you’re technically a kook,” John B shrugged.

“I guess,” you sighed.

“Hey, wanna get out of here? The waves are shit,” John B asked.

“Yeah.” You sighed, finally feeling calm for the first time in a while. Afterall it was a good distraction from JJ and everything else.

You and John B swam to shore and you threw a hoodie over your head.

“How good does the Wreck sound right now?” John B chuckled.

“So good,” you laughed, imagining shoving fries in ur mouth right now at the best restaurant in the Outer banks.

When you arrived at the restaurant, John B held the door open for you. He wanted to see you smile. You did, a soft curl of the lips, but it faded suddenly.

Something was wrong.

John Bs chest collided with your back, he chuckled. Because you stopped walking and blocked his path foreward.

“What’s up Y/n/n?” John B asked.

“Shut up-“ you said abruptly, John Bs eyes widened.

“Um..sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, just...don’t say my name like that,” you mumbled.

“Why? It’s your nickname right? Are you not cool with me calling you that?” John B questioned.

“No, no. I didn’t mean..just..nevermind,” you sighed. You just didn’t like it when people said your name loud in public places, you didn’t want to be recognized by certain people.

“Okayy? Anyway, let’s do that table in the back,” John B suggested.

“Okay,” you answered, keeping your head down.

He walked you to the table, and to your surprise, Kie arrived to take your orders.

“Hey guys! Is this a date? Or...” she joked. Laughing.

“Very funny Kie. Are you trying to make me lose my appetite? Poor business tactic of you ask me-“

“Hey! You asshole,” you mutter. Dipping your fingers in your water glass and spraying it at him.

John B tried to duck, but then bumped his head on the table.

You and Kie laughed loudly as he groaned in pain.

She could barely stop laughing, “can...ah I take your orders?”

“Yeah...um I’ll get um...John B what are you getting?”

“A cheese burger with no Mayo,” he told Kie.

“Idiot,” she muttered as she wrote it down.

“You want the usual? Fries and-“

“Ooh yes I’ll just have fries and cheese please,” you smiled.

“Yup, you got it. Ok I’ll be back,” she winked before leaving.

“By the way,” John B began, “I just want you to know I’d never make a move on you as long as your with JJ. I mean-Kie was joking in all-“

“John B, don’t worry about it ok?” You interrupted.

“Yeah but...I also wanted to ask you, what’s going on between you and JJ. Eveytime I mention him you get defensive,”

“What are you talking about? No I don’t,” you responded.

“Uh huh,” he said sarcastically.

“Look, the truth is, I just don’t care anymore,” you told him. You knew in your heart it wasn’t true, but it had to be. You couldn’t take back the fact that JJ thought you cheated. So you had to go with it.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” John B said.

“Whatever,” you sighed.

“Oh shit,” John B said, staring at the door.

“W-what? Is he here? Did you invite him? I swear to God,” you said in a hushed tone. You didn’t want to turn around yourself, in case you had to look him in the eye.

“No, chill. It’s..isn’t that your step dad though?” John B asked.

Your moth dropped slightly, “John B don’t say shit like that, your-“ you were about to tell him he was scaring you, but you shouldn’t admit that.

“Look behind you,”

“No I don’t want to,”

“Just look,”

You sighed, and slowly turned.

“Oh-“ you started to respond, but you practically felt your heart stop. Instantly, your breathing picked up.

“What’s going on between you and JJ? Why wouldn’t you want him here?” John B said, trying to pull your attention back to him.

You shook your head, instead of answering. You could hardly form words. Maybe it’s the fact that if your step father sees you here, there’s going to be some contact.

“Whoa relax!” John B said, placing his hand on yours.

Immediately, you pulled your hand away.

He furrowed his brows, confused and offended.

“Sorry.” you muttered.

“You wanna...leave.. I mean ... you wanna get out of here?” You suggested, afraid he would say no.

“What? Why? We didn’t even get our food!” John B exclaimed.

“I..I know. I just..don’t feel like eating anymore.”

“That’s so weird, Y/n. C’mon we can’t leave. Just suck it up for a sec,” John B said shortly. Tapping your shoulder.

“Okay,” you responded. You thought back to JJ. He never made you do stuff you don’t want to. He was just so caring to you. Not that John B wasn’t, just that JJ knew you so well.

A few minutes later, your couldn’t shake the thought that the man you feared the most was behind you. You didn’t have eyes. You didn’t have JJ. You didn’t have anything.

“John B, I don’t feel well I think I’m gonna head out,” you told him, getting up slowly.

“You sure?” He said, analyzing your.

“I um...” for some reason, blurred vision erupted, and you started feeling like you were going to faint.

You stood up slowly. But things were getting worse, and your stance was unsteady.

You gripped the edge of the table for support.

“Y/n...what’s up with you?” John B asked. Sounding annoyed.

For some reason a tear escaped from your eye, you were sorry you were annoying him. So you muttered a quick, “I’m sorry,”

John B stood up, he was now right infront of you. And then, you collapsed. John Bs arms wrapped around you and pulled you into him as you fell.

He was shocked by this. Struggling to hold you up.

No one seemed to pay much attention, but anyone in their right mind would know that they should probobly take you to the hospital. But John B, as did many of the pogues, didn’t always trust authority.

So he took you back to the Chateau, where Sarah, who took a class in Lifeguarding was considerably the doctor instead.

“What happened?!!” Sarah exclaimed as she saw John B carry you out of the van.

“She just passed out. Hey can you help me carry her?” John B grunted.

“Uh..I’ll get JJ,” she said.

“Oh fuck. Wait! I don’t know if that’s such a good idea-“ John B began but Sarah had already called him from working on the boat.

He ran over, his eyes filled with worry. He quickly took you from John B. Carrying you without a problem bridal style.

Inside, he let you down on the couch.

You were slowly coming back to consciousness.

“Put this on her forehead,” Sarah said passing a towel to JJ.

“Hey...hey Y/n. Come back to me okay? Fuck baby. Don’t do this to me alright, wake up,” JJ muttered into your ear.

Moments later, your eyes started to flutter.

To witch JJ sighed in relief, taking your hand and holding it tight in his own.

“Let’s call her parents,” Sarah suggested, grabbing Y/n’s phone.

“Sarah no. Alright? Give me her phone,” JJ demanded.

“No! If I was her my parents would want to know! It’s not normal to just faint-“

“Sarah, give me the fucking phone,” JJ persisted.

John B frowned, “hey watch it, JJ. Don’t talk to her like that bro,”

Sarah frowned, and out of spite began typing on her phone.

JJs temper only grew, he only wanted to protect you.

He grabbed Sarah’s wrists and pulled the phone from her hand.

“Hey!” Sarah exclaimed.

“Dude!” John B interjected.

JJ returned the phone to his pocket.

“Bro, I’m gonna kill you-“ John B said.

“Wait,” you said meekly, “JJ was right, okay? It would only make it worse. Just trust me,”

“But why?” Sarah said concerned.

You shook your head, signaling you couldn’t answer the question.

Sarah sighed and wished you to feel better before leaving.

John B then stepped to JJ, “you’re lucky your girlfriend is so sweet. I would’ve kicked your ass,” John B threatened.

JJ didn’t want to cause a drive between any more of the people he cared about. So he just accepted.

JJ then sat by you, despite what had happened before.

“You really scared me, Y/n.”

“Wasn’t..my intention,” you stifled out, trying to get up.

“Whoa...whoa, can you stay to get some rest? Just stay here for me,” he insisted with a hand on your chest.

“JJ...” you sighed.

“I know it’s not true. I know what you’re doing.”

“Stop. Please.” You pleaded.

“You didn’t cheat on me. Those are bruises aren’t they. They’re not hickies. They’re from him trying to choke you.” JJ explained.

“JJ get away from me. We broke up. I don’t....I don’t-“

“You don’t what? You don’t love me?! Huh! Say it Y/n. Look me in the eyes, and I leave for good,”

“I don’t! I don’t deserve you! You can’t me with me. I’m used, JJ. You deserve a girl that isn’t so-“

“Broken? Y/n, I’m just as fucked up as you. You know my dad hits me right? He beats me. And it’s wrong. And I hate him. But I can’t hate you. Ever. Not for what that sick man has done,”

At this point, you were balling. Wiping tears as soon as they fell.

“JJ...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying. I thought you would leave.”

“It doesn’t work like that, when I love you more than anything in my entire life,”

“I don’t understand,” you stuttered.

“Understand what?”

“Even after you know what he does. How could you look at me, and still love me?”

“That doesn’t change all I’ve known as soon as I met you. And if you need me to prove it to you, I will.”

thx for reading ❤️

@mavelfanatic @my-therapist-hates-me @rudypankowswife @harrypottersgirl @themaddies-obx taglist

#jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank x you #outerbanks #jj outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank series

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sakkkurra · 3 years

Text

Don’t leave me Pt.3

Pairing : yan!BTS x reader

A/N: Hi! So finally I am here with new chapter, sorry that it took so long. I hope you all are doing great. Finally the situation here is getting better with Covid-19 and I send prayers to India- hang on there! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also reminder that this story is pure fiction and does not this display BTS's real behaviour or characters. This behaviour is toxic and dangerous in real life. Stay safe!

Warnings: angst, NONCON , yandere themes, obsessive behaviour, language

Preview : " Since birth, you could see creatures from other realms. It was your special gift and you were quite thankful for it. But one fateful meeting with seven fallen angels makes you wish you weren’t born special. After all if it wasn’t for your so called gift, you wouldn’t have been in the clutches of monsters with no way out."

-part1- -part2- -part3-

"You don’t gotta worry about a thing nah not a thang."

Yeah right, you thought sarcastically. How stupid of you to think that you will be safe with them. That they will protect you from all the bad things in world. But you always felt secure with Hoseok. He always seemed like the mighty protector. Oh but how wrong you were. Because now, looking at him you can finally see that he is anything but it."Hi my beautiful dove. I guess your little escape plan failed hm?" you hear him say. You look him in eyes and hope that he will burn."Oh come on, don’t give me that look Y/N. It’s not my fault that you weren’t able to succeed. But what did you expect, hm? After all, you are so weak" he says with mocking tone and you know he is trying to provoke you. But damn he is doing a great work. If it weren’t for Taehyung's hand on your waist holding you down you would have already tried strike him."Fuck you!" you spit at him but he only scoffs."Oh? I thought that’s your job dove" he says and smirks. You hear others let out a small laugh. How you wish you could punch all of them in the face. "What are we gonna do with her hyung? After all she broke the rule and tried to leave us here all alone" Jungkook says while he is standing up from his comfortable seat and walks closer to you. You are always taken aback by his huge form when it’s in contrast with his baby face. He stops few inches before you and looks deeply into your eyes. As always, they are breathtakingly beautiful."Let me see Kook" Hoseok says and comes closer to you as well. He grabs your chin between his fingers and looks at your face. "Our Y/N was very selfish and did a very bad thing. I think I have the right thing in the store that will teach such a bad girl the a lesson" he smiles at you sweetly but you know better that behind this sweet smile lays brutal monster. You gulp down and pray for whatever force to save you from them.

-past-

All seven of us are walking towards the closest church that I could think of. Taehyung or Tae, as he told me to call him, stayed home because of his wounds. The walk was filled with small talk about me and my life."There is nothing special" I've told them but Namjoon kept telling me that it’s no trivial thing for them. To be honest it felt nice for once to be centre of attention. "So you could see creatures since you were born?"Jimin asked me. I nod and see that we are finally near church."So what do you need to do inside the church?" I ask them as we enter."Just some things that we angels need for survival here down on Earth" Hoseok answers and all six of them gather around altar. They start pushing it away and I watch them from above. I didn’t know that angels need "survival packs" to stay down here. As they moved the altar I saw that there was hole under it. Jungkook jumped down into hole and soon Jimin with Yoongi followed."Can I help with something?" I asked them because I wanted to be useful."Just watch the door darling and let us know if someone was coming" said Jin with charming smile and I mumble small okay and get to work. Soon all of them are inside the hole. It must be some kind of catacombs down there I thought. I don’t know how long I was on my watch waiting for them but I was starting to get really bored. Seeing that streets are empty and nobody was coming I've decided that I will take a closer look. And as I thought it was really catacombs. I couldn’t see much of it since it was dark but there were old rusty stairs leading down to the dark."Guys are you ok?" I shout but there is no reply. Suddenly I am very nervous. I mean what if something happened to them. Or they got lost? I take out my phone from my pocket and turn the light on. I will just go down and check if everything is all right I tell myself and start walking down the stairs. It was really chilly and damp down there. I was thankful for the little light that I’ve got but it wasn’t much. I was walking trough the old passageway. At the end of it was crossroad with four different gates."Guys hello. Are you there?" I shout but the only reply is my echo followed by thick silence. I feel shivers run down my spine. I didn’t feel comfortable there so I've decided to go back. But as I turned back there was wall before me. I have been staring at the wall for about one minute. I have seen enough horror movies to know where this leads so yes, I've panicked a little. I started running towards the gate that was on the right side. I know that it wasn’t right to do something in this state but I couldn’t help it. I don’t know how long I was running when suddenly I felt that the ground under me started moving and falling apart. I shrieked when I've felt that my feet lost contact with ground and I started falling into the deep darkness. That’s it I am gonna die I thought and kept screaming. I squeezed my eyes waiting to hit ground when I've felt someone arms around me. I opened my eyes in shock but I couldn’t see who was holding me and pressing me to his chest due to dark. I had lost my phone during the fall so I couldn’t light on him. All I knew was that we still weren’t on the ground. It felt like we were flying. Suddenly there was bright light and I needed to shut my eyes because it was hurting them."Shh it’s okay Y/N. Everything is okay, you are safe" said voice that I knew. It was Hoseok's voice. I've opened my eyes and realised that we are back in church. We were back on the ground in each others embrace. "What were you doing down there Y/N, hm? It was no place for you. If it wasn’t for me you would still be falling like a little fragile dove. Oh, that’s what I will call you. My sweet vulnerable dove" he says while he is caressing my head."I-I was just looking for you guys because you were down there for a l-long time so I thought that something happened and the next t-thing I knew was that I-I was falling and"I wanted to continue but I broke into sobs and couldn’t keep talking. Hoseok stayed with me until I calmed down. Even after that he didn’t pull

away from me which felt really nice. It felt so safe and right to be in his arms."We were so worried for you Y/N. When we came back you weren’t there so all of us went looking for you. Good thing that I've founded you or else...Ah, I don’t even wanna think about it dove"he says and pulls me closer. I seriously don’t know what happened down there but for now I will leave it be."Thank you for saving me Hobi" I whisper to him."Hobi?"he says with amused tone. "Yes can I call you like that?I like it more than Hoseok" I say with smile on my lips. Hobi looks down at me and smiles too."Sure thing, dove. I love it. As for what happened down there" he says with worried tone" you really didn’t need to go there. Looking and worrying about us. Huh you are really weird girl Y/N. You don’t need to worry about us. If anything Y/N, I will be the one protecting you. You don’t need to worry dove, I will always keep you safe from everyone and everything." I nod and snuggle closer to him. How lucky I am to have met them I thought.

-back to present-

You slowly open your eyes and look around your surroundings. Ah, back in the old familiar room you thought bitterly. You hated this room. After all, it’s where they always kept you locked. "Your room"as they put it ,was a fancy chamber with one big king sized bed in the middle.If it weren’t for the library that Namjoon let you have you would have gone insane. But now you had bigger problems to deal with than being locked in this room. They really didn’t spare you with punishment this time. Especially Hoseok took enjoyment in it. The first part where they were striking you with little electric shocks that was coming from their hands was bearable. You didn’t even scream or cry. You grew immune to this by now. But than they did something much worse. They filled your mind with memories, happy memories with your mom and Zira. It was cruel reminder how much you had then and weren’t thankful enough for it. How much freedom you had. That broke you. You really felt like dying. The physical pain was bad, yes, but the mental pain was truly killing you. You wanted to stay strong you really did. But maybe Hoseok was right. You were weak. Speaking of the devil you heard yours door open and someone sitting on the bed next to you. You didn’t need to look up who it was you knew it is Hoseok. He always came visit you after punishment because he enjoyed to see you so helpless and broken. What a sadistic prick you thought. He started"Dove when will you learn? Running away from us and trying to leave us. Come on Y/N, you know that’s not happening. Why don’t you try and be good for us hm? For me? So I don’t have to hurt you. You know I only want the best for you dove" he says and starts caressing your left thigh. Yeah right you didn’t look like you minded hurting me back then you though but you don’t have enough power to say it. You lay down there for a while and the room is filled only with your heavy breathing. Suddenly you feel him laying down next to you. He puts his hand around you and pulls you closer. Hoseok puts his head on the crook of your neck and inhales your scent."You know dove, everything can be so much easier if you just stopped fighting us. It would be like old good times. You and seven of us. So stop this stupid rebellion and let us love you. Stop trying to leave us." Silent tears are streaming down your face."No"is the only thing you say to him. You feel his body stiffen and hear low chuckle." So it will be no huh? Good Y/N. Because it gives me purpose. You see I was always the one that only brought pain to others.I was nothing more than beast that enjoyed tearing others apart And I know that I bring pain to you too dove. But trust me for once, it’s for good purpose. You don’t need to see it just accept it. Because trough this pain I will keep you safe here with us. So in the end I want to say thank you Y/N" he says and puts small kiss on your neck. And soon the kiss is followed by his hands roaming around your body. Then you feel his hungry lips on yours . You lay still as he undresses both of you. You lay still as you are watching him above you while he is pounding inside you. You look at the small drops of sweat that are forming on his forehead. I didn’t know that angels can sweat you think. But it makes you happy. It gives you hope. Because if they can sweat they can bleed. And if they can bleed they can die. And if they can die you can be free once more. Just endure it Y/N you tell yourself. Because soon you will be back on your feet ready to strike again. So you lay there without moving letting him ruin you. Huh Hoseok the angel of pain and suffering indeed is what you think just before you black out.

#yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere hoseok #yandere yoongi #yandere taehyung #yandere jimin #yandere jin #yandere namjoon #yandere jungkook #yandere #bts yandere

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i-write-newsies · 3 years

Text

A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

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Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

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I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

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autumnsart22 · 3 years

Text

First time in College: Suna x reader

College AU with the Haikyuu boys: Suna Rintarou x fem reader 🤤

Let me know if you want part 2 :)

He is literally so fine I--

Art creds go to agatha123naruto

God, you should never have agreed to do this. Your laptop was calling you, Attack on Titan already pulled up and ready to watch...and yet here you were, shifting uncomfortably in a tight crop top and booty shorts your roommate had provided you with. You crossed your arms over your stomach, trying to hide yourself, but you only succeeded in pushing your tits up.

“Hey, relax, it’s just a party.” Kiyoko smiled softly from her side of the room, applying some chapstick and holding a pair of sneakers.

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes. Yes, it was just a party...but it was also the first college party you were going to be attending. And a frat party at that. Ugh.

The first few months of college had been perfectly well off without them, and you weren’t exactly sure why Kiyoko had been able to convince you to come along this time. Maybe you had felt a little like you were missing out when your roommate would come back giggling and tipsy late into the night every weekend, and maybe you wanted to put a bit more effort into socializing. You had friends, but not a huge group--which was fine. But also, college was a time to try new things...even if that meant frat parties.

“Don’t worry, you’ll probably know some people. And if not, you can just stick with me.” Kiyoko finished putting on her shoes, heading towards the door. “We’ll get drinks as soon as possible.”

You sighed, resigning yourself as you followed her out the door.

The party was just as bad as you expected. It was packed in the house, the lights dimmed, flashing, and confusing as people pushed from all sides. You almost spilled your third drink as you searched for Kiyoko, pretty much impossible in the darkness. You had lost her a little while ago when she had started talking to a guy named Tanaka, and now she seemed to be missing.

“OI!” You looked up to see a clearly wasted, shirtless guy standing on the table, a bottle of beer in his hand. He had blonde hair with a dark undercut, and you were pretty sure you recognized him as one of the frat guys...maybe Atsumu? You didn’t know him well enough to be sure. “We’re putting on a movie, if you fuckheads want to join,” Asumu yelled, practically falling off the table.

Maybe Kiyoko was with them watching a movie.

The crowd swallowed you up again as you headed towards where Atsumu had disappeared, but you managed to push your way into the living room. There were four couches stuffed into the wide space, but every seat was taken, including spots on the floor.

You scanned the room for Kiyoko’s hair, but yet again, no such luck. The projector was set up to play a horror movie, and your stomach clenched unpleasantly as you realized what it was. You really, really hated horror movies--did they seriously have to pick this to watch?

You bit your lip, but the lights were dimming and you had to stop standing awkwardly off to the side. You spotted the arm of one of the couches that was free, but that same couch was also filled with frat guys with girls in their laps. Would I be weird for taking a spot next to them? Would they be ok with that?

Shit, calm down. This isn’t high school, and I’m a bad bitch. Also, I’m sexy as fuck. I got this.

Right. You straightened your shoulders and marched across the room, dodging random girls sprawled across the floor mixed with bongs and beer bottles. You barely even glanced at the occupants of the couch as you settled precariously on the arm, as far from them as possible as the movie began to play.

Almost immediately, your heart was racing and fingers digging into the cushions, and you wanted to run from the room. Why, why, why had you done this to yourself? You could have just turned and left the living room to begin with. Fuck trying new things.

You were considering how you’d make a subtle escape when a drunken kid with bright orange hair slammed into your shoulder as he tried to get past, causing you to lose your balance on the arm of the couch and fall directly into the lap of one of the guys to your right.

For a moment, you were too stunned to move, and you could only stare up at the equally surprised face of one of the frat boys. He had dark brown hair and yellow eyes, the whites tinted red; presumably from the joint in his hand. The smell of weed rolled off him, and you were pretty sure that it wasn’t his first one.

“Oh-Oh my god I’m so sorry,” you gasped, rolling awkwardly off him onto the floor. “I didn’t mean to--I mean--um--”

“Look what you’ve done Suna.” You glanced over to see the same shirtless guy from before, the one you assumed was Atsumu. “You scare off all the girls.”

The lap guy, Suna, just shrugged and took another hit.

“No, that’s not...” you tried, your halfway drunken brain desperately trying to calm down. “I fell on him.”

Atsumu grinned at you. “It’s ok, you don’t have to bother with him. He’s a piece of shit anyway.”

“I didn’t say--”

“What, so you want to sit on his lap?”

“What????” How was this conversation even happening? You wanted to punch Atsumu in the face, and you also wanted to sprint from the building and never show your face to the light of day again.

Unfortunately, now Suna was looking at you, as were the other frat boys sitting on the couch and the girls on their laps. “I mean,” you cleared your throat. “I- I guess.”

Idiot. IDIOT.

“Ah nice. You see Suna, that’s how you get girls--”

“Fuck off, Atsumu. Stop pressuring her.” Suna glared at him, and you let out a breath...until his yellow eyes turned to you, and your lungs hitched yet again. “You can if you want, but we’re holding up the movie.”

He was right; someone had paused the movie since Atsumu was standing right in front of the projector, which meant everyone was waiting on you.

“Are you ok with that?” You asked as you stood up, trying to sound confident and bored.

Suna’s eyes lazily trailed down and up, and he shrugged. “Whatever.”

Ouch. “Uh, right.”

He leaned back on the couch, his legs sprawled wide to give you room between them, and your heart began to pound. Jesus Christ.

You awkwardly sat down, trying to give him space in the very limited area, but his thighs were still pressed tight up against your ass.

The movie started again, and almost immediately every muscle in your body tensed up. At the first jump scare, you flinched so hard that you elbowed Suna’s knee, making him grunt in pain.

“S-sorry,” you whispered, hands shaking a little.

He shifted, leaning forward so you could feel the heat from his chest inches away. “Hey, are you good?”

“Um, yeah. I just really hate horror mov--” The serial killer stepped out from behind the door and you gasped, turning your face away.

Suddenly, you felt Suna’s hands pressing against your ears, blocking out the creepy music and the sound of people getting murdered in front of you. You looked up at him in surprise, and he shrugged, leaning even closer.

“Horror movies are worse with sound,” he said in your ear so you could hear him.

“Thanks,” you murmured, and he smirked.

“You can relax. You’re so tense, it’s freaking me out.”

You let out a breath, forcing your muscles to unclench. It was more comfortable, but it also meant that you were now flat against Suna’s chest, his hands still on your ears.

You tried watching like that for a while, and it was better, but in the end you decided that sound or not--horror movies weren’t your thing. You ended up hiding your face in Suna’s shoulder, until you realized what you were doing and quickly jerked back.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your personal space--”

“It’s fine. Be quiet.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, tucking you against his chest so you could easily bury your face in his shoulder. He smelled nice, mostly of pot, but with undertones of mint and almond or something.

As the movie continued, he turned his head to press his lips against your ear. “Want me to explain what’s going on?”

“Oh...okay.”

“So basically...ugh what is even happening.” You smiled a little at his annoyance. “So this idiot girl just went into the house when clearly she shouldn’t have, aaaand there’s the murderer. Damn she’s dumb. Honestly he’s kind of dumb too, why is he running with a knife? That’s a safety hazard.”

You snorted, feeling a large part of your fear drain out of you at his stupid narration.

“This is literal shit,” he muttered. “How does this scare you?”

You huffed, annoyed at his condescending tone. “I don’t know, just the jump scares, and the creepy lead up, and the music...I just hate it.”

“Do you want to leave? You don’t have to watch, you know”

“I…” I clenched your fists, suddenly determined. “No. I can make it through.”

“Why…? You’re literally not even watching.”

“Just shut up. I’m facing my fears.”

He laughed under his breath, and you felt it in his chest. “How admirable.”

He patted your head, taking another hit of the joint, which was practically gone. “Want some of this?” He gestured to it.

“Oh, sure. That’s fine?”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if it wasn’t.” “Right...” You took the joint from him and took a deep hit, and then another, just needing to relax. It didn’t stop you from almost jumping out of your skin when the murderer suddenly pushed someone down the stairs.

Suna smirked at your terror, and you glared at him. “This isn’t funny!”

“Kind of is.”

It took another twenty minutes, but then finally the film was over, the lights were turned back on, and you were facing Suna again.

“Thanks for doing that,” you said, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you met his pretty eyes.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Well, uh. I should probably go. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Wait, hold up--”

You didn’t wait for his response as you rolled off his lap, awkwardly waving, before practically running from the room.

You found Kiyoko sitting on the couch with your friends Suga and Daichi, and you must have looked pretty panicked because she didn’t protest when you dragged her from the frat house.

“So...how was it for you?” She asked imploringly as we made our way back to our dorm.

“Um….” You weren’t sure how to answer.

Part 2

#suna #suna x reader #ive never met this guy but he could high key get it #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarō #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu suna #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #anime

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gh0styyt0astyy · 3 years

Note

"You can hide from me forever~?" .. emm.. maybe you can do this we hank?(lee hank if it is ok?) No presure

✨ [Run and hide] ✨

( anon. anon *holds ur shoulders* i loved this prompt thank you )

———————————

⭐️ [Summary] — If you asked Hank how he got into this situation, he’d much rather die than say anything. (Lee!Hank and Ler!Deimos + Ler!Sanford)

fellas is it gay to platonically cuddle your homies after they absolutely wreck your shit

key: deimos hank sanford

⭐️ [Warnings] — TICKLE FIC; MILD LANGUAGE; AND CUDDLING AT THE END; if you don’t like then please just scroll on T_T

⭐️ [Prompt(s)]: “You can’t hide from me forever!”

✨ Enjoy ! ✨

— — — —

“Haaaaaank!” Deimos’ gruff voice echoed down a hall; a quiet snicker in his tone as he looked for the merc. Hank, who was currently staked out in a dark room (had the rooms always been this dark? How’d he never notice this?), held his breath.

Putting a hand on the doorframe, Hank leaned out slightly and stared into Deimos’ back.

The shorter guy seemed to be too busy with looking in the complete wrong direction that Hank started calculating his options. Hank had been stalking around this shitty “apartment” that he, Dei and Sanford all called home (Temporary home at least. It’s hard to keep a stable base of operation in this shitty, genocidal state okay?) for at least an hour now. Deimos wanted something from Hank; and whatever game Deimos was playing the taller man didn’t want any partake in it.

“Cmon, Haaank. You can’t hide from me forever now!” Deimos called out again, but beginning to turn around now. Shit. Hank quickly darted into a different room, one with a little more light. At least he could see now.

…However he failed to realize that Deimos could see the faint outline of a shadow, which is ironic really; seeing as how Hank; a 6’6 man can fit inside a tiny crate with no one noticing, yet he forgets to cover his tracks of a shadow.

Deimos’ footsteps came closer to the room Hank sheltered in, and Hank started to crawl backwards to the closet. ‘Shit- shit- shit.’ Hank opened the closet door and quickly stepped inside. Deimos suddenly leapt into the room, a sound of vague disappointment rumbling in his throat. “Damn.”

Hank felt a very light breath leave his chest as he slowly slid down the wall. Maybe Deimos had finally given up his chase. As Hank waited for Deimos to leave the room, he listened to the quieting footsteps. The goggled man silently opened the closet door and looked out, spotting no sign of Deimos. He began to slowly step out of it.

His legs were quickly and suddenly swiped out from under him, causing him to land roughly on his chest with a solid “oof” and a wheeze when something plopped heavily onto his back. “There you are!” Hank could hear the grin in Deimos’ voice.

“Uagh- get off of me you lug.” Hank grunted, reaching back and swatting at one of Deimos’ knees. “Hank, you’re good at hiding, know that? Had me in circles for an hour! You ever play hide and seek when you were a kid?”

Hank was having none of it as he continued to swat and push at Deimos. (Sure the man was significantly shorter than him, but damn; bitch could put some weight when he wanted.) Deimos hummed as he put his head in a hand. “Okay well obviously you wanna move on. So let’s do that! While we’re at it…” A different hand went down to between Hank’s shoulder blades, causing the merc to tense. “Let’s chat! You remember how you crushed my cigs a bit ago?”

Hank did remember that.

“Aaand how you spilled water on me for no reason?”

Hank remembered that too. (And, also Deimos, for your information; it was not for no reason you will NOT burn down another temp home.)

“Oooh or- or how about the time you threw that huge ass centipede at me? Remember that one?”

…Hank remembered that one, as well. Very vividly, might he add.

Hank nodded and Deimos did too. “Yeah. I remember all those too. Especially that last one you asshole.” Hank shrugged. “I mean, it was a little amusing.” Deimos feigned hurt as he put a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Wimbleton.”

Hank started to get antsy now, as he shifted underneath Deimos’ weight. “Will you get off me? Or are you just going to keep me here.” Deimos grinned again. “Antsy, Hanky? Daw okay. I guess I can get on with it.”

“It?” What the hell was “it?” Hank narrowed his eyes under his goggles and when he tried to look back at Deimos three fingers suddenly dug into the soft area between Hank’s shoulders. Oh. Oh that was it. Hank felt his eyes suddenly shoot open as he fell completely limp to the floor, electricity running up his back. His body shuddered with repressed… laughter? Noises. “Deimos—“ Hank spoke through gritted teeth, feeling lucky for the mask covering his betraying face. “Hank.” Deimos answered back. Hank felt himself trying to writhe away from Deimos to no avail. “Shihit.” He hissed, mentally cursing himself.

“Ahha! That’s the response I’m looking for!” Deimos said, taking his other hand and tapping against Hank’s ribs. Making the downed man make a strangled noise into the crook of his elbow. “Pihihihiss ohohoff-!” Hank growled, tried to growl. It was hard to be intimidating with fingers wiggling on your ribs and your back. Deimos was slow, methodical for a moment… before the hand on Hank’s back went from slowly moving to clawing at his shoulder blades. “SHIHIHIT! Deihihihimos you sohohon of a—!” Hank suddenly erupted; Deimos letting out a victorious and satisfied laugh. “Right here is bad? Damn, and I’ve only just started!” Hank tried thrashing his shoulders to get away from Deimos’ hands.

Deimos snickered mischievously, repositioning himself on top of Hank and sitting on his waist instead. “Y’know what Hank? This is super interesting,” Deimos said, one hand continuing to torture Hank’s shoulder blades as the other hand trailed back and forth from his ribs and his sides. “You’re, like, Nevada’s most dangerous Mercenary. And yet I haven’t even been thrown into a wall!” Deimos added, grinning at Hank’s misfortune as the man went limp again. “I hahahahate yohohou—“ Hank hissed through gritted laughter. “Have you even tried getting me off?” Deimos ignored Hank’s previous statement. As Hank began to lift himself with his elbows, Deimos’ hand suddenly shot underneath him and started prodding at his stomach. “YOHOHOHOU BIHIHIHIHITCH!” Hank fell back down.

That’s when a quiet *ahem* and knock on the doorframe made both the men look up. Sanford stood there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and an amused look. “Dei, what are you doing to Hank?” He asked, and Hank felt Deimos’ hands slow down until they came to stop. Deimos snickered evily and put a knee on Hank’s back to keep him down. Hank didn’t like that, didn’t trust that evil giggle from Deimos— so he began trying to escape. “San, y’know what I found out?”

Oh shit. He wouldn’t. “What’d you find out, bud?” Deimos you’d better not. “Did you know that Nevada’s most wanted, dangerous Mercenary is ticklish?” That son of a bitch. “Oh, really now?” Goddamnit.

Sanford was waved over by Deimos, and the two started whispering to each other. Hank tried to listen in but to no avail. Suddenly the weight on his back was lifted and Hank tried to shoot away quickly.

But he was grabbed around the waist and pulled back into a heavy chest. Sanford’s arms held onto him tightly as they went back to the floor, except now Hank was sitting up. (Which was better, actually, because being sprawled on the floor like that really isn’t comfortable.) Sanford’s arms were hooked under his, crossed tightly against his chest and keeping him in place.

Deimos was sat at Hank’s legs, grinning at him with a look that could only mean chaos.

“I swear to God.” Hank rumbled, pushing against his captors. Deimos gave an evil chuckle as his hands curled into claws. “Deimos I’m warning you.” Hank pushed at Deimos with his foot, neither of them really acknowledging the now dirty shoe print on Deimos’ jacket. “One.” Deimos said.

…Excuse him?

“Two.” Sanford’s low voice followed.

Hank started wriggling in Sanford’s arms with a little more strength.

…

“THREE!” Suddenly both the men yelled— and Hank lost his shit. Deimos’ clawed hands tasering into Hank’s ribs and Sanford’s kneading into his hips. “OHOHOHOH MY GOHOHOD! YOU AHAHAHASSHOHOHOHOLES!” Hank suddenly shrieked in laughter. (It was so much louder than his voice, louder than his usual tone. It surprised all of them and Hank wasn’t sure if he liked the volume coming from himself.) Hank writhed in Sanford’s arms as he fought against himself. “Holy shit! Dei, you weren’t joking!”

“I know! Hank, you’re incredibly lucky that it’s just us who know about this!”

Hank thought about the idea of someone else finding out about…this. Whatever “this” was. Hank wanted to say something but all he could get out was that loud, wheezy laughter. And eventually he stopped trying to fight it, he went limp in Sanford’s hold and gave in. “SHIHIHIHIT! I’m gOHOHNNA KIHIHILL YOU TWHOHOHO!” You know, it’s really hard to be threatening when you’re being undone. His nerves felt like they were being electrocuted and were on fire, Hank’s legs kicked slightly. “GOHOHOD DAHAHAHMN IT! MOHOHOHOVE YOUR HAHAHAHANDS!”

Suddenly it stopped— Deimos’ hands stopped at least. Sanford’s were at his ribs now, poking and prodding between each bone. Hank screwed his eyes shut; Sanford’s hands were so slow and methodical it was driving Hank up the wall. Hank’s face was warm, completely undone to giggling. It was embarrassing.

“San, you wanna know something else?” “Deimohohos.” “Hit me, Dei.” “You behehtter nohohot!” “Hank’s scars are way more ticklish than the rest of him.” “You bihihihitch!”

That bastard. “Reaaaally now?” Sanford’s voice was low again, close to Hank’s neck. Deimos nodded. “Yuh uh.” Hank tried to squirm out again. “I hahahate you!” He listened as Deimos drew in a big, deep breath and felt as his shirt was lifted. (He knew today was a bad day to go without his jacket.) “Deheheheimos I swear to Gohohohod!”

Hank had literally no time to process anything before—

PBBBFFFTRRTTTT!

“OH SHIHIHIHIT! SHIHIHIHIT SHIHIHIT SHIHIT!” Hank squealed, he squealed. (Hank never wanted to die on the spot more than in that moment. Do you think that he could find Jeb or Tricky or someone to strike him down after this?)

Deimos had raspberried Hank’s stomach— against a huge ass scar that went from his left hip, over top and across his navel and to the right side of his ribs.

And Sanford had started blowing smaller raspberries against Hank’s neck, again, on the scars that went across it.

Hank literally felt like he was about to die in that moment. “OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAHY I YEHEHEHEHILD! I YEHEHILD! I’M GONNAHAHAHA DIHEHEHEHE! STOAHAHAHAHAP!” Hank gasped, writhing and kicking his legs. And it was like that, the sensations just stopped. Phantom feelings buzzing through his body and against his skin. “Ohohoh my gohohd.” Hank breathed, his body somehow going limper against Sanford’s. Deimos grinned and Sanford laughed lightly. Hank felt Deimos press against his chest and a light squeeze of a hug from Sanford.

Hank panted lightly, cursing the two mentally. Deimos just grinned up at Hank. “Sooo. I think San and I win!” Sanford hummed in agreement as he nodded grinning too as he bonked his head against the back of Hank’s. “Somehow that went way better than I had expected it to go.”

“You two better sleep with one eye open tonight.” Hank threatened, feeling his body physically relax against Sanford and Deimos. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say.”

#ghosty.replies #ghosty.keysmash #writing #tickle fic #sfw tickle fic #mc tickling #lee!hank #ler!deimos #ler!sanford

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lovenhlboys · 3 years

Text

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 2

Masterlist

Want to be on the tag list?: Tag list form

A/n: Hi!! Here’s chapter 2!!! This chapter is from Elias’s POV, the rest of the chapters will be a combo of the two (and probably one or part of one) will be from Brock’s POV eventually😁 these first two chapters are more just setting up everything. please let me know what you think! All feedback is appreciated!!!!

Warnings: A LOT of cursing (sorry...sorta), Petey not listening, might be a little cheesy (I’m not sorry), an attempt at Swedish (pls let me know if It’s wrong), I think that’s it, lmk if I missed one

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: on chapter 1

Word Count: 1.8k (this is the shortest one)

Summary: Yeah so, Elias has a “teenage-reminiscent” crush on the one girl he was terrified to like, so he makes a plan to just be her friend, it doesn’t go to well, so he makes a new one.

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

PRESENT

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

Petty had a crush on Y/N. Y/N Boeser, the one fucking girl he can't have. His best friend's little sister.

When he met her at the mid-point of his rookie year, he'd already heard a lot about her. Brock had told him so many stories and he learned so much about the infamous Y/N, and the more he learned, the more he really liked her. Then there were the other stories Brock told him, the ones that included guys. One he recalls quite clearly.

November, 2018

They were sitting on Brock’s couch, watching One Tree Hill,

“Petey, have I ever told you about Chad?” Brock started.

“No, why?”

“Chad was my best friend in middle school, all the way up to my senior year. Then he wanted to date Y/N.”

“What do you mean ‘up to’ your senior year?” His attention was taken away from the show completely at the mention of her name.

“Well, I told him I didn’t want him to go out with her, but that it was her choice, not mine. So he asked her out, and they dated for like 3 months. Then he broke her heart.”

“What did you do?” Elias was curious.

“Oh, I broke his face”

Elias was shocked, he’d never known Brock to be anything but a (slightly obnoxious) ray of sunshine. “...oh, uh... so what happened to Chad after that?”

“I stopped being friends with him, and so did the rest of my group of friends. Normally I’m not like that, but he messed with Y/N/N.”

“Yeah, I get that. My brother’s girlfriend is basically like my sister and if anyone hurt her, I don’t know what I would do.”

“Yeah so anyways-“

Elias zoned out as Brock kept talking, just thinking about what would happen if he asked Y/N out. He decided then that no matter how perfect and incredible she was, it wasn’t worth his friendship and career with his best friend. He’d just be her friend if anything. And who knows, maybe he’d never even meet her in person.

_______

Now, as he’s walking to the break room Brock asked him to meet him in, he's remembering tjrs how ignorant that plan was. Because once he met her, it was a lot more challenging than he could’ve imagined. The second he met her in person, that plan was incinerated as a possibility.

Dice and ice (February) 2019:

Elias showed up 20 minutes early, he is so nervous. This is his first dice and ice and from what people told him, he knows this isn’t his kind of event. He’s not social, he’s an awkward Swedish hockey player. Not to mention the amount of extra attention he’s sure to get tonight. Brock had told him how much attention he received when he was the star rookie, and that made Elias even more anxious. Thanks, Brock.

He paced near the front waiting for Brock to get there, imagining all of the ways he could humiliate himself in front of everyone. He was in between “eating too much fancy food and throwing up” and “getting so nervous he forgets how to speak English” for being the worst.

Just as he started to get nauseous from remembering the rookies have to do a performance every year, he found himself unable to breathe. This wasn’t because of the inevitable doom tonight was bound to bring though. He saw the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen on the arm of his best friend. Her dress, her hair, her makeup, her legs, everything he could see was just beautiful.

“Petey!” Brock shouted.

Elias couldn’t speak still but he made eye contact with Brock.

“Woah bud, you doin’ ok?” He said with a concerned look.

A choked, “Uh…” was the only thing that came out. Though, he felt that was a sufficient answer to Brock’s question. Elias’s eyes made their way back to the girl now standing behind Brock, since Brock took it upon himself to grab Elias’s face and get very close. He inspected Elias, seeing if maybe he was sick or had a concussion.

Brock must have been satisfied with what he saw since he took a step back, letting go of Elias’s face. That’s when he noticed his best friend looking at his “date” for the night.

“Petey, this is Y/N/N, Y/N/N Petey,” Brock said, gesturing to the two of you.

“Y/N/N?” He asked, suddenly able to speak again. He was looking at Brock with scrunched eyebrows. ‘Is it actually her?’ was all her could think.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you know, my sister that I’ve told you about at least 20 times?”

Elias nodded and looked back at her.

She waved a little, “Hi, it’s Elias right?” she asked.

“Hmm? Uh, yeah, that’s right.” if he wasn’t sweating before, he definitely was now. “It’s Y/N?”

She nodded “yeah but you can call me Y/N/N, most people do.”

He likes her first name though, he thinks it’s such a perfect name, so he decided to just call her Y/N.

All three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment. Though to Elias, it felt like it could’ve been a few hours. He was completely mesmerized and terrified by you.

Brock cleared his throat, pulling Elias back to the world, “so, let’s head inside?”

“Yeah sounds good,” Elias walked in and held the door open for her and Brock.

Walking in right behind them was Jacob, he put his hand on Elias’s shoulder.

“mår du bra? du ser sjuk ut. (are you okay? You look sick.),” he asked.

“Jag kommer att bli bra (I will be fine),” he responded with an unconvincing grin.

As the night went on, Elias couldn’t seem to relax; he kept making sure his tie was straight and he couldn’t stop fixing his hair. For a while, he had to take pictures with the fans and families, with Brock...obviously.

“You just need to relax, Petey,” he had said this about 5 times already.

“I know, I just don’t want to embarrass myself, I’m not very social. I hate these events.”

Brock chuckled, “I swear, the more I learn about you, the more and more I think you and my sister are the same person. The only reason why she’s here is cause I bought her a new fancy dress and cause she’s gonna try and kiss some ass and get a job with management.”

“Wait, so she’s moving here?”

“Oh yeah, I asked her to. Depending on if she gets the job, of course, which she’s sure to get with her resume.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Hey, I’m gonna go find her, you need to relax, just breathe,” Brock said as he stood up to walk away, “And stop imagining the worst things that could happen,” knowing his best friend all too well.

Elias walked over and sat with Bo and Holly, just trying to get through this night without having a panic attack.

The rest of the night went fine, no vomiting or forgetting English, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Because of his luck, that’s when he saw Y/N, and he couldn't look away. She was standing in the corner, looking insanely nervous. Before he could think about it, he was walking over to her.

“You doing ok?” he asked.

“That obvious?”

He looked down at his shoes, “Hey, at least you don't look sick like I did apparently.”

That made her laugh, one of the happiest sounds he’d ever heard. “Yeah, you didn’t look too happy to be here.”

“Well, these events aren’t really my thing. I heard they aren’t yours either?” he finally looked in her eyes, which was not a smart decision.

“God, no, absolutely not. I hate these things, I don’t get why I need to dress like this and kiss up to people to get a job that I’m already very qualified for.” She took a pause, “even though I do love this dress...”

There was a little silence as Elias wasn’t sure what to say, he decided on, “If it helps, you look very pretty, and I like that dress too.”

She blushed, “thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself, Elias”

The way she said his name sent chills up his spine, Brock introduced him as Petey, but not once had she called him that. She only called him Elias, and it sounded perfect coming from her mouth. The thing about her was, the more he looked at her, the more beautiful she became in his eyes. The way she laughed, the way she stood with her legs crossed, the way she constantly crossed her arms. To most she probably seems unwelcoming cold, and closed off but to Elias, he saw someone just like himself and-

Oh shit, what is he doing?

He’s literally doing the exact opposite of what he said he was going to, he needs to get away from her. He needs a drink is what he really needs.

That’s when Brock walked over, “hey! There are the two most unfun people in this place!”

“Jackass,” she quipped.

“I’m gonna go talk to Marky,” Elias said, trying to make his escape.

“Fine then, leave me to avoid socializing alone, I guess” she called at him sarcastically.

He nervously laughed and turned around, quickly making his way to the patio that he knew was empty.

Once he got outside he took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he sighed. He stood there thinking of what he needed to do. He couldn’t end up like ‘Chad,’ he had to stop whatever this is that’s happening to him when he saw her. He’s never felt like this, he’s never even had a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. How the hell did he feel like this for a girl he doesn’t really know? He wished he’d never met her; when he’d never met her in real life, he could imagine she looked weird, or maybe she was really rude (not that he thought anyone related to Brock could be rude). However, that could not have been farther from the truth. She was amazing, and so incredibly beautiful, but not in the conventional way like most of the WAGs here tonight, most of them fit the “hot model, super social, 50,000 picture taking” stereotype that Elias personally didn’t find all that appealing. Shes the perfect height for him, perfect size for him, her hair color and length was even perfect, and that was the problem. She was everything he didn’t want her to be, and more. Her personality was exactly what he wished his future wife’s personality would be: sweet with a little bit of sass, would rather stay inside, doesn’t take shit from people, while still a bit awkward, witty humored, sports loving, lazy Sunday having, and just goddamn perfect. The first word that came to mind when thinking of Y/N, was just that: Perfect.

So he knew what he had to do, he couldn’t be her friend. One small conversation proved that tonight. He had to avoid her as best he could, and do the things he didn’t want to do to her: be cold, shut her out, not talk to her alone. It was going to be incredibly difficult, but he valued Brock's friendship too much.

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

PRESENT

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

As he looks back, it was the best decision. It was definitely torturous to him, but he had to. Especially after literally every one of his closest teammates was basically like a big brother to her, or a best friend, or a “cuddle buddy” whatever that meant. He can’t even imagine what would happen now. JT, Bo, Brock, Troy, Thatcher, Marky, even Quinn would have his head if he tried anything. And God if he wasn’t terrified of the rage in JT’s eyes when anyone messed with Y/N, it wasn’t human and no one can convince Elias otherwise...seriously fucking terrifying.

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

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adventuresinwonderlust · 3 years

Text

Title: Caution to the Wind PART 2

For PART 1 Click HERE

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, a lot of first times, tension, Solo/ mutual masturbation (m) (f), mentions of virginity and losing it (friendship pact)

*AUTHORS NOTE: Warnings will update per chapter as things get steamier*

Permanent Tag List: @mochilicious-yoongi @heyimtavia

Rating: 18 and over

You wake to the sun peeking through his curtains, rolling to find Yoongi gone. You stretch your body out before sitting up and looking about for your phone. Yoongi soon enters, coffee in hand, once you send an all is well text to your mother. He hands you the mug with a smile, “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” “Morning. I did, thanks. How about you?” He nods, taking a seat at his desk. “Do you want to talk about last night?” He murmurs. You sip your coffee, shrugging at his question. “Do you?” “I mean, I'm sorry about ruining the kiss. I'll try to control myself more.” “No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have, uh, you know, touched you.” You look away from him, your face heating. “I mean, I understand but also…. it's ok if you did…. or if you wanted to…. uh…. No pressure.” He stutters, scratching at the back of his neck. You can't help but giggle, your nerves kicking in heavily. “Why?” He chuckles. “I'm sorry I'm not laughing at you. I'm just, this is just a bit awkward to talk about.” You reply. He nods, covering his face with his hands. “How can we make it not awkward?” He asks from behind his hands. “Maybe let's not talk about it beforehand. We should just let it happen naturally.” You explain. He lowers his hands, nodding at you. “Ok, you’re right let's just move on then. What do you want to do today?” “Let's just chill out, watch a movie or play a video game. We can head back to my place.” “Ok, well let's do that early. I don't want to hang around here too long.” “Okay, let me just shower and get dressed.” “Same.” He says, jumping up to grab clothes from his dresser to pack.

You watch as he neatly folds his things and places them into his duffle bag. He soon turns to you. “You can shower first Y/N, it'll give me time to get my stuff together.” You smile, grabbing your duffle and heading into the restroom. You exit fully dressed and ready to go, frowning when you hear Yoongi arguing with his mother. “You are never home!” “You never make it so I want to be home!” “How happy then you will be to move out and into the dorms? Finally, away from your terrible mother.” “I’m counting down the days!” He shouts, stomping up the stairs and into the bedroom. You lock eyes and he just shakes his head. “I'll be quick.” He grumbles, heading into the restroom.

You both head down the stairs to leave, Yoongi’s mother in the kitchen staring at you. “Have a good day.” You wave at her. She simply nods, turning away as you both walk out. “You know you don’t have to try so hard. She doesn’t care.” “I’ve known her since I was a little kid. Of course, I have to try. My mother would kill me if she found out I was anything but respectful to your mom.” “My mom loves you Y/N, things have just been tough at home.” “I know Yoongi, you don’t have to explain. I’m sure things will blow over soon enough.” He nods, taking a seat at the bus stop. “I feel bad that she and I have grown so far apart.” He says finally. “Well, you are both pretty prideful. Someone has to give in and say I’m sorry.” “It won’t be her that’s for sure.” “Then it should be you.” He shakes his head at your suggestion. “Maybe one day but just not today.” You nod, not wanting to press anymore, luckily the bus arrives.

You make it to your house and figure out a quick dinner, your mom texting to say she'll be working late. Yoongi, always being the kind guy he is, packs a plate for your mom to eat when she arrives home. You both clean up and head to your room. “Go kart?” You smirk at Yoongi, who nods. “You’re going to lose.” “Whatever, we shall see. Set it up, I’m gonna change into my pajamas.” You instruct, heading into your bathroom to change into a black tank top and sleep shorts. When you emerge, Yoongi is sitting on the rug at the front of the TV, the video game on, cheerful music filling the room. “Ready to lose?” He chuckles, his smile turning into a cough when he looks you over. He hands you a controller and you take a seat next to him.

You smirk to yourself, watching from the corner of your eye as Yoongi eyeballs you, and you wonder to yourself if you will always have this effect on him. “Better keep focus Min.” You tease, getting the one up on him and taking the lead. Your avatar zooms quickly, your heart beating fast, your knuckles aching from how tightly you hold the controller. Soon your avatar passes the finish line, the game whistling to inform you both the level is over. “Woooooo!” You scream, dropping the remote and lifting your arms in the air. Yoongi rolls his eyes, nodding calmly. “Best 2 outta three.” He wagers. “OK but let’s make it interesting.” He scoffs at your remark. “Interesting how?” You feel your body heat. Getting the one up on Yoongi has your core needy. You go to set your terms when your mother bursts through the door, startling you. “Hey, thanks for dinner. I’m going to crash. It was a long day. Try to keep it down ok.” “Yeah mom, sorry.” “Night.” She winks, closing the door.

“What was I saying?” You look back at Yoongi. “You wanted to make things interesting.” “Oh yes! So, since you lost this round, I want your shirt.” You smirk. His brow furrows and he looks down at his t-shirt, laughing nervously. “I’m not wearing anything underneath.” You shrug at his comment and feel your face heat when his Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow. He chuckles again and grabs the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head. He tosses it to you, his gorgeous skin on display, and you drop it in front of you happily. “Next round is mine.” He warns, grabbing his remote. You begin the next round and find yourself hyper focused on winning. Your hands are aching, not as large as Yoongi’s who can grip the control with ease. You squeal excitedly, in the lead. Yoongi grumbles under his breath, “I’m not going to lose this one!” You giggle at his words, taking your eyes away from the screen for a moment. Suddenly, Yoongi’s eyes light up and you whip your head back to the screen to see a computer player shoot a bomb at your avatar, knocking you out of first place. “No!” You whine, watching your avatar spin out of control. Yoongi whoops over and over beside you, his avatar quickly taking the lead. He leans up onto his knees, happily making noises under his breath, his avatar zooming over the finish line. He tosses his controller, throwing his arms up before pointing at you. “Told you I’d win. Take those shorts off.”

You scoff, a fit of adrenaline riddled giggles soon taking over you. You stand, tucking your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and drop them to the ground, using your foot to kick them over to him. He holds them for a moment in his arms, staring at you in your lacey black thong. You adjust the straps higher up on your full hips, slowly squatting down and sitting on your feet, your ass on full display for him. “Next round is mine.” You point at him. He doesn’t speak, unable to pull his gaze away from your plump behind. His eyes tracing your every outline, making your core burn with desire. “Focus Min, I want to win fair and square.” You say, grabbing the controller and setting up the next round. He grabs his controller, his eyes still taking you in. You’d be lying if you said that having his eyes on you wasn’t the best feeling in the world right now. You felt your arousal push pass your slit, wetting the fabric of your thong. You start the level and chuckle to yourself at the fact that you both are barely putting in an effort.

You see Yoongi's avatar speed up suddenly and so you decide to slow down, letting him win! “Ha,” He exclaims, “I win!” “I guess you do.” You shrug. His excitement soon fades, and He looks over your body again. “Um, well there’s not much to ask for.” He whispers, scratching the back of his neck. “You sure? Maybe you aren’t being creative enough.” You tell him, crawling over and locking lips with his. He moans, melting into the kiss. You pull away briefly to take in his needy look. “Don’t stop." He almost begs, leaning forward to kiss you again. You deepen the kiss, straddling him. Your cunt aching when he swirls his tongue around yours. His hands find purchase at your lower back, his fingertips fiddling with the fabric of your tank. You break the kiss again, “Do you want me to take it off?” His eyes widen and he stutters over what to say but the twitch in his pants give him away.

You sit up a bit at the feeling of his member pressing into you, his cheeks reddening, “I’m sorry.” He whispers. You shake your head, “It’s ok. I like how it feels.” You rock a bit in his lap, watching how his mouth falls open and his grip on your back tightens. “Is this, ok?” You ask in the hopes he’ll say yes, the friction against your yearning sex just what you need. He doesn’t speak, just nods, his hands falling to your hips. He tucks his slender fingers under the straps of your thong, gripping at your flesh before aiding you back and forth across his clothed erection. You mewl at the amazing feeling that slowly builds deep inside you. “Do.... do you like this?” He pants. You nod, moving your hips faster. He lets a soft moan escape and you’re quick to shush him for fear your mother will hear.

He bites his lower lip to keep from being too noisy and you find yourself trying hard to grind against him. You groan annoyed at how difficult it is to keep a good pace on the floor, your knees digging into the rug. “Let’s move to the bed.” You urge, standing. Yoongi hops up and follows you towards the bed. You sit down watching him approach, his erection creating a tent like effect at the front of his jeans. You swallow back you lust for him, rubbing your thighs together. “Do you want to take your jeans off?” He looks down at himself and back at you, his face and neck reddening. “Do you want me to? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You nod, feeling so overwhelmingly horny that you reach for his belt and begin to undo his pant. “Fuck Y/N.... I.... this has never happened before. I’m freaking out a bit.” “Me too,” You reassure him, “If you want me to stop at any time, just tell me.” He shakes his head, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watches you tug his jeans down.

“Lie back.” You instruct. Yoongi shakily does as he’s told, groaning when you straddle him again. You moan lustfully at how amazing his clothed manhood feels against your clothed womanhood, so much better than any pillow. You want so badly to wildly grind against him, desperate for release. He has his hands on your thighs, his eyes fixed on you, waiting for your instructions. You lick your lips, an even naughtier thought coming to your mind. You slide back a bit, palming him gently, mewling at how incredible he feels in your hand even clothed. He releases a deep breath, his eyes closing shut at the feeling. “Do you like this?” You question even though you know his answer. He simply nods. Your body shivers at the sounds of his moaning. A surge of needy lust coursing through you. You grip his heavy manhood before nestling yourself into his lap again. You roll your hips into his. “Oh god!” He almost yells. “Shh! Try to be quiet.” You lean in to whisper in his ear. “Pl-please, go faster.” He begs and you nod, moving your hips in quick flicks across his erection.

“Do, do you like this?” He groans. “It’s nice. I like watching you.” You admit. He smiles seductively, wrapping an arm around your waist and flipping you onto your back. “I want you to like it too.” He whispers, shoving his erection into your soaked center. You can't help but hitch forward, dry humping your needy bud into his length. You moan quietly into his ear, reveling in the gentle kisses he traces along your collar bone and neck. Your skin begins to goose at the feeling of his soft lips against your hot skin. Your body burning as it nears your climax. “Yoongiiii, touch me.” You cry out. He stops completely, hovering over you and staring at your face. “Oh, Y/N, I want to, I’m just nervous. Maybe if you don’t mind, we can we try something else? If you don’t like it, we can stop.” “OK, yeah, what did you have in mind?” He bites his lip and you’ve never felt more turned on. “Show me how you make yourself cum.” He whispers. “Are you serious?” You giggle a bit. “Yeah, um, it’s a fantasy of mine. Like I want to see you touch yourself. I'll do it to. If you want to.” He whispers, his eyes fired with lust as he leans in for a kiss. You nod, running your hand into his hair. Your tongues swirling around one another in desperate fury.

“Should I stay lying back?” You ask. Yoongi shrugs. “Are you comfortable this way?” You nod in response. “Ok. I can do whatever.” He explains, leaning back on his heels, still nestled between your legs. You both watch each other. One waiting for the other to make the first move. You bite your lip, dying for release. “Show me your cock.” Yoongi's eyes widen, and he chuckles nervously. “Fuck, that's so hot. I've never heard you talk like that. I'm so horny right now. I want you. I want you so bad. Show me too. Um, I want to see your…uh….” “Pussy.” You finish his sentence. He groans deeply, palming himself with a needy nod. You let out a shaky breath at the sight of him already touching himself. “You’re so beautiful Y/N, do you know that? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” He confesses, gripping your thigh. “Oh Yoongi.” You whimper, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his sweet pout. He takes over the kiss immediately, suckling on your tongue and soon your lips.

You can't take it anymore and reach into his underwear. You wrap your hands around his length, swallowing the desperate whine that leaves his throat. You begin stroking him from root to tip ever so slowly. You’ve watched porn before and had always seen the women in them start this way. You break away from the kiss to look down at his member, never having seen one up close before. He’s long, thick, and veiny. The tip the same pink as his lips. Your mouth hangs open as you watch yourself work and you soak yourself even more. Yoongi looks down also, his breathing erratic, soft moans leaving his kiss swollen pout. “Just like that, that’s so good.” He praises, reaching back to squeeze your ass. You marvel at the sticky pre-cum that spills from his reddening tip, licking your lips when it’s dribbles down onto your hand. “Fuckkkk.... this feels so amazing. You sure this.... is.... your first time doing this?” You nod at his question, your chest filling with pride. “Lie back, Y/N.” He instructs, grabbing his cock from your grasp. You nod, doing as your told and lying back. You release a shuddered breath at the sight of him stroking just his tip. His head falls back and he’s a moaning mess. His chest rises and falls so fast, you wonder if he'll hyperventilate. “Take your thong off Y/N.” You do as your told, bending your knees to your chest to remove the sticky fabric from your saturated core. You chuck the material to the side, parting your legs slowly on either side of a knelt down Yoongi.

“Fuck....she's gorgeous. Sss- So fucking wet. She’s practically glistening.” Yoongi stutters. You bite your lip, lowering a hand to glide your fingers through your slit. “I’m so wet for you.” You pant, grinding against your own hand. He shudders, watching your fingers maneuver through your slick folds. He begins to stroke himself in slowly, his eyes fixed on your core. Your mouth falls open and you widen your legs to give him more of a view. “Oh, fuck Y/N! You’re so wet. Watching you is so fucking hot.” He breathes desperately. You glide a finger through your slit, collecting your juices, and rubbing soft circles on your swollen nub. All the while Yoongi continues stroking the whole of his length, focusing on his tip with quick circular motions. You both moan out loud, unable to keep your eyes off your respective roaming hands.

You begin to pick up speed, rubbing larger circles against your clit, eliciting a long low moan from your lips. “God, Y/N. Watching you is better than any porn,” He whispers, hitching his hips upwards into his clenched fist at the same pace in which your fingers move, “I love watching you. I can’t take my eyes off of you. You’re so gorgeous.” “Ah, Yoongi. I’m so close.” “Shit baby. This feels so good, so fucking good. I’m not going to last much longer either.” You lock eyes with him and soon begin rocking against your fingers. Yoongi tightens his grip around his length and you watch his expression of lust turn to desperation. “Fuck Y/N, I can’t hold it. I’m going to cum baby.” Something about him announcing his climax brings about your own climax. “Yes, cum Yoongi, cum. Cum on my belly. I’m going to cum too.” You mewl, lifting your tank to expose your belly. “Oh, fuck! Really? That so fucking….” He is unable to finish his sentence, your orgasm striking you like a ton of bricks. His eyes widen watching you bite your lip hard to keep from screaming, never having cum so hard in your life. Your back arches, looking up just as Yoongi moans out, spurts of white shooting from his tip onto your expose tummy. You gasp at the amount of fluid one person can produce but at the same you are so turned on by it.

He soon slows his movements, leaning in to kiss you. “That was just, wow. Are you ok?” “Yeah, are you?” Yoongi chuckles at your question, kissing you again. “It was so great.” You both find yourself giggling. “Good thing your mom didn’t pop in, or we’d be dead!” “No shit!” “I made a mess. I’m sorry. Let me grab a towel and I’ll clean all this up.” Yoongi offers, kissing you again. He gets up, tucking himself away, walking towards your bathroom. You look down at your messy belly thinking of how girls in porn love the taste of cum. You swirl your finger in his seed, bringing your hand up to your nose to smell it. The scent is distinct, almost reminding you of cake batter. You drop your hand immediately when you hear Yoongi come out of the restroom with a wet washcloth. “You sure you ok?” He asks again. “Yeah, I’m good. I was just so overcome by like hormones I guess.” “That’s ok. There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides we are supposed to be here to help each other out so don’t feel weird or anything. You can always ask me to you know.” He smirks, wiggling his fingers in front of his face. You slap his arm, laughing out loud. He carefully cleans his mess from your abdomen, folding the towel up and chucking it in your laundry bin. “I think I’m going to shower actually.” You tell him. “Ok sure.” He plops back on the bed. “Wanna join me?” You offer. His eyes pop open and he leans up quickly. “Uh, seriously?” You start heading off to the restroom, turning to face him. “Well? You coming?” He leaps off the bed and runs into the bathroom after you.

#bts smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #suga x you #suga x reader

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