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oliviajdjarin · 2 years

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Din Djarin: Embarrassed

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: There is nothing to be embarrassed about in front of your riduur.

Warnings: heavy discussions of blood, allusions to sex, PERIODS, and past trauma. Swearing, marriage, I had the reader use a sanitary pad, and Din has big hands. Softness and fluff :)

A/N: here it goes, my first request!! This prompt was requested by @passionkillerphil (I’m so sorry it won’t let me tag you) and I just had to do it! I really really hope you enjoy.

original ask: And what he'd be like taking care of you when you're on your period or really sick 🥺❤️❤️

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be greatly appreciated <3

Din/Javi Masterlist

(gif gotten from Pinterest)

What should have been a relaxing, refreshing morning, turned out to be anything but.

You woke up later than usual, for once allowing your aching body to enjoy the simple pleasure of sleeping in, and to make things even more blissful, you were pressed against the warm body of your Mandalorian. You snuggled deeper into his back, rubbing your face against the smooth cotton of his shirt.

Your blankets were wrapped around you like a heated cocoon, and the slowly rising sun had not yet started coming through the Crest windows. A black-ish grey still surrounded you, and the kid was not even due to wake for another few hours.

You practically purred at just how perfect it all was. The peace, the quiet, and the relief all rolled into one hazy heaven. The two of you needed—no, deserved— a day to just sleep against the other, coated in each other’s scents and kisses and skin.

A day to just be. Be in love, be together, and be free of any pain or suffering.

You pressed a faint kiss to your riduur’s clothed back, and tried to scoot yourself impossibly closer to him. You moved your hips over, rubbing your navel onto his lower back, and that’s when you felt it.

A gush of lukewarm, sticky liquid hit your thighs, and your eyes shot open.

Fuck.

Your body froze, and you worked your hand down to your underwear. You felt the soaking fabric, and to make matters worse, the sheets were damp as well.

Fuck Fuck Fuck

Your eyes squeezed shut in anger, and your nose crinkled as well. A thin layer of sweat coated your legs and back, and your heart dropped down to your stomach.

Heat flooded your cheeks, and your mind started to race a mile a minute.

What the fuck do I do?

Din knew what a period was. Of course he knew what a period was. He was always incredibly patient with you and did everything he could to make you feel better when you felt extra bloated and cranky.

He’d just never…seen it this badly. And you definitely had never leaked that much in bed before.

You hated to admit it, but embarrassment and shame were the main emotions bouncing around your brain. You knew what your sweet, understanding, incomparable husband would whisper into your ear when he saw the bright red stain. You knew he’d not see it as a big deal, and his dark brown eyes wouldn’t leave yours until you acknowledged that as well

It didn’t make you feel any less self-conscious, though.

You knew you’d have to wash yourself up in the fresher, and you knew that Din would feel your body heat leave his as soon as you started moving. And you couldn’t just…leave him there, practically lounging in your blood.

So you laid in bed. Heart pounding. As Din softly snored beside you.

Finally, after a beat of consideration, you hopped out of bed as discretely and quickly as possible, barely even moving the covers. You made sure to tip-toe across the cold floor to the fresher in practically a sprint, and you tore your clothes off. You cranked the water up to as hot as it could go, and tossed your shorts and underwear in the trash.

There was no point in even trying to save them.

You hopped in the shower, and scrubbed your body with soap and water. Your muscles were already beginning to ache from the cramps, and a small headache was growing in front of your eyes. You didn’t know if it was from the period, or from all the anxiety you still had about facing Din, but the warm water worked wonders. Small breaths of relief left your nose as you rinsed your body clean.

You only stayed in there for a few minutes, before you dried yourself off and changed into different pants. You made sure your hair was dry as well, and added a sanitary pad to your underwear.

You stared at the door, feeling your beating heart underneath your chest.

What was wrong with you?

This is Din we are talking about. Your Din. The man who couldn’t leave the kid behind. The man who never hesitated to look people in the eye and say “thank you.” The man who was never afraid of your demons, or your anxieties, or your past. He confronted them head on, without an ounce of hesitation.

The man who had given you his first kiss, his first time, and his first promise. The day you married, he vowed to stay true to you, in sickness and in health, in wealth or poverty, and most of all, he promised to always come home to you.

So far, he has kept all of those promises. And more.

Din, with all his little quirks. He blushes — blushes — when you peck the tip of his nose. He demands to pressed against you as he falls asleep, because he “can’t possibly relax when his riduur isn’t next to him.” He loves sugar in his coffee. He loves long, steaming bubble baths.

And the scary, infamous Mandalorian, is a dog lover.

He cannot stay away from a mastiff, running and panting around Tattooine. He always gives the creature a belly rub, and he somehow has the ability to make them fall on their backs with happiness from his touch alone.

Your soft, beautiful Din, wouldn’t judge you for this.

So why did you feel so insecure?

You looked at yourself in the mirror, wrapping your hands around the edge of the grey sink, and took a deep breath.

Relax Y/N, you heard the ghost of Din’s breath whisper in your ear.

Relax for me.

You can do this.

You looked at yourself one more time, and walked out the fresher door.

The smell of fresh linen was what hit you first.

The entire space felt…cleaner. Cleansed. Airy. You could see the bed you shared with Din from the fresher doorway, and the wrinkled, charcoal sheets from that morning had been pulled away. Instead, an ivory, off-white set had been laid over the twin bed frame.

He…cleaned it up?

You started to make your way over to the bed, but a set of heavy boots echoed from behind you, and you turned to see Din fully dressed in his beskar, minus the helmet he held in his hands.

“Cyar’ika?”

Your stomach plummeted.

He still had his messy, frizzy bed head, but the rest of his body was sleek and shiny from his sheathing. His cape flowed behind him, and his broad frame was accentuated even more from the chest-plate he always wore. His pulse blaster was attached to his back, and belt was fastened around his cinched waist.

All that armor, money, power, was oozing and dripping off of him…

….but yet, his brown eyes were still soft, his forehead was creased in worry, and he was picking at the skin around his fingers.

If you could describe Din in an image, it would be that one. Literally wrapped in skill and dominance, but oblivious to it all at the sight of you.

Maker

“Din,” you breathed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and set his helmet down near his feet.

You didn’t even know what to say.

“I—“ you began. “Isn’t it obvious?”

His head tilted to the side, a move he would make constantly under the helmet.

“Tell me,” he said huskily.

“Well….I bled. Everywhere.”

A tinge of worry faded away from Din’s face.

“And I— I should have been the one to clean it up,” you said. “It was my fault. My mess. And you shouldn’t— you do too much around here anyways, let alone with me bleeding everywhere.”

He continued to listen to your proclamation, but he walked over to your shared bed, and sat, leaning on his elbows to listen to you.

“And I just feel….I feel embarrassed. I know I shouldn’t, because I know you wouldn’t judge me or—or think I’m gross. I know you wouldn’t. But I still feel bad. Really bad. Like I can’t even take care of myself, or that my—period—is some sort of issue. I just—I should have been the one to clean it up.”

You brought your right hand to your chin, trying to calm your pulsing emotions.

“I’m so sorry Din. I hope that I didn’t—scare you, or make you think that I was hurt. Or maybe I did disgust you. Maybe I’m a really shitty person to leave my sleeping husband laying in a puddle of my blood. There shouldn’t have even been a puddle of blood in the first place.”

A single year dripped down to your lips, and you licked it away. Din’s honey-toned eyes stayed connected to yours.

“I feel—“ you whispered. “I just feel really shitty.”

The tears were flowing now, and embarrassment coated your irises even more.

Din kept his elbows on his knees, adamantly and patiently waiting for you to get it all off your chest, before he gave you a delicate smile, and set his hands on the edge of the bed.

“Come here,” he said, tilting his chin towards his shoulder.

You stood there, unable to move.

“Come here,” he said, and patted his thigh. “Please.”

You nodded, licking your lips once again, and shuffled your way over to him. He held out his arms for you, and you sat yourself on his lap. Never losing eye contact.

He connected his forehead to yours, breathing in your soap and freshly washed skin, before he started peeling his leather gloves off.

“Manda’ner,” he mumbled. So softly you could hear your own breaths. “Please don’t apologize.”

He moved his hands under your shirt, and started pressing lightly on the muscles on your lower back.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he whispered breathily, and massaged his hands into your back, pressing kisses on the side of your mouth as he did it.

Your eyes rolled at just how intimate and lovely this moment was, and Din always had a way with his hands.

The deep jolts of pleasure made your brain short-circuit.

You whimpered a bit when he started pressing harder, and he followed those sounds as best he could, pressing and molding your skin against his large hands.

“There?” he asked.

“More to the front,” you replied, and he kissed your cheek again, letting his breath coat your face. His scruff hadn’t been shaved in a few days, and the prickly tease of it erupted chills all over you. Another moan escaped you, and Din groaned with you.

He moved his warm hands to the front of your body, pressing right over where the cramps were beginning to burn, and you became putty in his hands.

He made every shred of guilt or shame melt off your body, and he allowed relief and peace to enter instead. Just from this small gesture.

You really loved him.

After a few minutes, he pressed one last firm stroke of his hand onto your lower stomach muscles, and he pecked your lips.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better,” you said, kissing him again.

“I wanted to clean it up,” he said to you. “I want to help you. I want to take some of the burden of this fucking painful experience off of you.”

You smiled, swallowing the lump of adoration in your throat.

“I’m not going to pretend I enjoy seeing your blood, because if I see your blood, it means that you are in pain.”

He brushed your cheek with his naked palm as he spoke.

“I don’t like when my riduur in pain.”

Your eyes rolled again, and you pressed your face into his silky palm.

“So I will help,” he said. “And I will never find you gross.”

Tears of joy started to mist across your eyes, and you kissed the crown of his hand.

“Thank you,” you whispered, letting tears escape.

He wanted to say “you don’t have to thank me.” He wanted to tell you—show you— that he would crawl on hands and knees for you to look at him like this, and that a “thank you” was never needed.

But he also knew you.

“You’re welcome,” he responded, and kissed you again.

He was the first to pull away, and he smiled when you rubbed your nose against his.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said.

You nodded, and pecked his nose. The faint blush you knew all too well flickered over his cheeks, and you both laughed. Giddy, care free, and in love.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, and helped sit you back down on the bed. He moved back towards his helmet, and fixed it on his head.

“Get some rest for me, ok?” he said, carving your jawline with his now covered hand. His voice sounded foreign under the modulator, but the sound of it still made your heart flutter after so long.

“I will,” you promised, and he nodded.

“I love you,” he said, and began to back away.

“I love you,” you responded, and he disappeared around the corner.

A gentle comfort coated you, and you let yourself crawl back under the covers, unable to wipe the smile off of your face. You pressed yourself against the back of the bed, and exhaled all of the anxiety you had been holding.

“Oh,” you heard from behind the wall, “one more thing.”

The gurgle of the child echoed across the metal ship, and an even bigger smile came to your face.

Din came back around the corner, holding the still half-asleep Grogu in the crease of his elbow, and you wrinkled your nose in delight.

“I think he wants you,” Din said, and you laughed.

“Hi baby, good morning,” you said to the child, and Din handed him over to you. He immediately embedded himself into your warm shirt, and went limp in your arms only a second later.

You smiled up at Din, and if he could have that image of you holding a sleeping Grogu in your arms, comfortable and happy in his bed, burned into his mind, he would.

He exhaled, desperately wanting to stay with his home, before he connected his helmet visor with your forehead.

“I love you Y/N. I’ll see you soon,” he said, and you pecked where his lips would be.

“I love you, Din,” you said, and he forced himself away from you.

You curled up with the child, listening to the sounds of Din lower the walkway, and the beat of his boots as they hit against the metal, and you began to drift off as the metal closed in on itself. Proving that he had officially left the Crest.

You let yourself succumb to sleep, knowing he would return home to you.

He promised.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag isn’t working, or I somehow missed you. Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@leahkenobi @writerlyhabits @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy @em---r @just-a-sewer-goblin @martinsmomo @letaliabane @cathenan @big-ol-boat @niiight-dreamerr @jezebel1945 @call-me-doll-face @yelyahcardella @letskeepthislo-ki @misspearly1 @petals-opento-the-moon @lovesbiggerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkyle

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lostinthewiind · 3 years

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Piss Off Your Parents - Part 1

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren't a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner's 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

A/N: if you couldn’t already tell, I have planned this as a series/full story. I was torn between writing it on here or on Wattpad or something, but ultimately decided on Tumblr . . . but let me know if you would prefer it on another platform as well! Also, this series will eventually include smut/NSFW content but that will be tagged appropriately when the time comes. As always, I hope you enjoy.

Next →Part 2

Slamming the front door behind yourself on your way out that morning, you quickly stuffed your earbuds into your ears and cranked your music as loud as you could to drown out the sounds of your parents yelling after you and, consequently, at one another after you had dropped the bomb about your new job on them seconds before you had left, giving them as little time as possible to shame you for it.

After graduating high school and turning 18, you had decided it was time to take your life into your hands, which wasn’t too easy while you were still living under your parents’ roof, but you had to start somewhere and that somewhere was getting a job at the local corner store, Sakanoshita Market.

You knew that your parents wanted you to go to university and ‘make something of yourself’, but you also knew that you could never truly be happy under their dictatorship-like ruling, so you decided to get a job, no matter how shitty, save your money, move out as soon as possible, and go from there.

It was definitely going to be a process, and not an easy one, but all you had to do was take it one step at a time.

Rounding the corner and seeing the market in the distance, you felt your nerves begin to bubble inside of you a little. Sure, you had gotten some part-time jobs here and there during summer vacation before, but you had never gotten a full-time job before and had never needed the money from a job like you did now. Before, the cash you made was for extra spending money during the summer and school year, but now the money you would be making would be funding your future. It seemed like a lot of pressure to put on a job that entailed stocking shelves, checking out customers, and cleaning.

The lady who had hired you had basically explained that since she was getting older and her son, who had been maintaining the place previously, had gotten a new job, the store needed someone to learn the ropes and take care of the place on a daily basis; and since you were young, a fast learner, and didn’t have anything else in your life besides work, you were a perfect fit.

As the shop doors slid open smoothly to welcome you into the store you had been inside countless times in the past, you suddenly felt completely out of place in the familiar market. Now that you were an employee instead of a customer, the atmosphere had completely shifted. Instead of heading right for the fridges to grab a drink like you usually did, your eyes shifted immediately to the front counter where a figure with its feet up hid behind an open newspaper.

Just like every other time you had visited while the store owner’s son was working, he did everything humanly possible to avoid interaction. Usually, you would have appreciated not being bothered while trying to scan the shelves, but since this time was different, the lack of acknowledgement was slightly unnerving.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, hoping it was enough to catch his attention. It was not. Instead, he flipped the page of the newspaper and you watched as a hand emerged from behind the paper barrier to flick the ashes from his cigarette into an ashtray sitting beside the register.

Eyebrows furrowed, you really wished that the shop owner herself had been there to greet you for your first day instead of her seemingly useless son. “Hello.” You stepped up to the counter, the feeling of not belonging sinking deeper into your bones.

Slowly, the newspaper separating you from the man behind the counter lowered and the shop owner’s son glared back at you, eyes half-lidded as if he were seconds away from falling asleep and the cigarette from before hanging from his bottom lip. This was far from the first time you had interacted with him, but you would be surprised if he remembered you as a customer even a little. Whenever he checked customers out, you could tell he was running on autopilot.

The man’s eyes drifted down to your hands, which were resting on top of the counter now. Noticing you didn’t have anything to purchase, he cocked a brow. “Need help finding somethin’?”

“Ugh, no,” you answered. “I’m the new employee. I’m supposed to start today.”

His eyes scanned you once more, this time more thoroughly, and you swallowed hard. Feeling as if you were being observed under a microscope, you slid your hands off of the counter and stuffed them into your pockets self-consciously.

As he inspected you inch by inch, you took the time to take a closer look at him as well. With dyed blonde hair, two earrings in his left ear, an apparent nicotine addiction, and a noticeably flippant attitude toward his job, he was the definition of the type of man your parents would kill you for bringing home. Somehow, this only made him more intriguing. You wondered if he really was as disinterested in everything as he seemed or if it was just this job he thoroughly hated and became someone a lot more interesting when he wasn’t behind a counter.

“How old are you?” he asked out of the blue, catching you off guard a little. While he waited for you to answer, he set the newspaper to the side, dragged his feet from the counter top, and patted out some of the wrinkles from the white apron he had tied around his bright orange sweatshirt.

“I’m 18,” you responded, not sure why it mattered but also not seeing any harm in answering honestly.

Seconds later, the door to the back of the shop and storage room opened and the familiar face of the woman who had hired you stepped into view. “Oh, Y/N!” she greeted happily; much more enthusiastically and welcoming than her son. “Sorry about that, I was just getting some last minute things together.” She eyed her son out of the corner of her eye and noted the fresh embers in the ashtray. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, I just got here,” you told her.

“Good.” She smiled sweetly before turning to her son. “Well, you can head out now, Keishin. Thank you for watching the counter.”

“Yeah,” the man, Keishin, grunted as he untied the apron from around his waist, slipped it over his head, and hung it up on a hook behind the counter. “See ya.”

With that, Keishin left, leaving you and his mother alone. Wasting no time, Mrs. Sakanoshita, whom the store was named after, got right to work on teaching you the basics and gifting you with a white apron of your own to wear while on the job. Since it was the middle of the day and the customer flow was relatively slow, she introduced you to how the register and scanner at the counter worked before moving on to unpacking boxes.

Just like you had promised on your resume and during the interview, you were a quick learner and Mrs. Sakanoshita was more than pleased to see you picking up the job quickly and efficiently.

By the time the after work/school rush of patrons picking up items on their way home had begun, you were feeling confident in your abilities and, with your boss by your side to answer any questions you may have, you checked out customer after customer, building up muscle memory for scanning items, collecting cash, opening the register, handing out receipts, and sending customers on their merry way.

All in all, the job was quickly growing on you. You liked the fact that, for the most part, you were the only employee on duty, so when there weren’t any customers in the store, you could work silently on unpacking boxes without having to worry about making small talk or being friendly with any coworkers. In fact, as far as you knew, the only people who worked at the store at all were you, Mrs. Sakanoshita, and her son, Keishin.

It seemed as though you had really landed a sweet gig.

After showing you how to lock up, Mrs. Sakanoshita headed home for the night, leaving you to finish stocking the shelves and cleaning the shop before you would head home as well.

Now that you were truly the only person left, you walked over to the old radio you had spotted on the counter during training that day and fiddled with the dials, trying to get some music playing to accompany you during your evening chores. After some careful handiwork and enduring some horrendous static and high-pitched screeching while searching for a station, you settled on what sounded like some old instrumental music and got to work on stocking the remaining shelves.

Throughout your shift, you quickly learned that the store got quite warm during the day and you had needed to tie your hair up to keep the back of your neck from dripping with sweat. The night wasn’t much better either, especially since the lack of customers so late meant that the doors rarely opened, keeping the cold night air outside and the warm store air inside.

After finishing the last box of supplies, you exhaled and wiped your brow. You were exhausted, that was for sure, but you still had to sweep.

Deciding to take a quick break, you turned toward the floor-to-ceiling fridges at the back of the shop and pulled open the door, sighing happily when the cool air hit your skin. Exhaling slowly, you snickered when you saw your breath fog up in front of you face.

“You’re letting all the cold air out.”

You shrieked when you heard a voice in your right ear and slammed the fridge door shut, jumping back in the process. Thanks to the music from the radio and the loud hum of the generator that kept the fridges cold, you hadn’t heard the front doors slide open or the footsteps of Keishin approaching you.

“Jesus!” You clamped your hand over your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry?”

“What are you doing here?”

Keishin glared at you. “You work here one day and suddenly act like you own the place?”

Realizing how rude your question had come across, you composed yourself and rephrased. “What I meant was, your mom didn’t say you were coming back.”

Pointing upward, Keishin sighed, disinterested. “I live in the apartment above the shop.”

“Oh.” Things started making much more sense and you suddenly felt pretty embarrassed for how you had reacted.

“Yeah . . . oh.” He rolled his eyes, but it didn’t come across necessarily rude but more like he was exhausted and you were adding to said exhaustion. “Why were you standing with the door open anyway?”

As he spoke, he stepped toward you. At first, your feet felt cemented to the floor and you didn’t move. But when he persisted closer, you eventually stumbled back and Keishin opened the fridge door you had been standing in front of to grab a beer from inside. With drink in hand, he eyed you once again, waiting for an answer.

“It’s really hot,” you said, gesturing to his orange sweater. “I don’t know how you wear that thing in here.”

Looking down at his apparel, he just shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” He turned and started for the counter, presumably to pay for the drink he had just taken. “In the future, stand outside if you’re warm.”

“Okay.” You nodded, mindlessly tailing him. You had to grab the broom from behind the counter anyway, but that was the furthest thing from the front of your mind at that moment. If anything, you were still trying to calm down a little from being startled and now being alone with your boss’s son. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He popped the tab on the beer, settled into the stool behind the counter, and downed at least half of the drink in a few large gulps.

You watched him, probably a little too closely, and as you did you found yourself reexamining the features you had taken note of earlier that day: the dyed blonde hair held out of his face with a thin black headband, the natural brown hair that peeked out from the roots, the two small silver hoop earrings in his left ear, the scent of cigarette smoke that clung to him like how the smell of rain clung to the air after a heavy storm.

Noticing your gaze, which would have been nearly impossible to miss, Keishin quirked a brow at you and held out the can of beer toward you. “You want a sip?”

Startled from your thoughts, you shook your head. “I’m only 18.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He withdrew the can and took another sip, this one much smaller than the first few. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Eyes wide, you thought quick to come up with an excuse. “The broom.” You pointed to the item behind him. “Can you pass me the broom?”

After handing you the broom, Keishin pulled a slip of paper and a pen out from his pocket and started writing and scribbling things down, sipping the remainder of his beer occasionally and ignoring you completely.

Trying to avoid staring at Keishin anymore than you already had, you started sweeping at the far end of the store and left the area around and behind the counter for last. Eventually, though, you had worked your way back over to the the silent man and was forced to clean the floor behind where he was sitting, trying hard not to disturb him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of what he was so focused on; it looked like a crude drawing of a volleyball court. “What’s that?” you asked, the words leaving your mouth before you realized you were being rude again and snooping.

Keishin, however, didn’t seem angry or annoyed in the slightest. “Volleyball positions,” he huffed. It was clear he was growing frustrated.

“You play volleyball?”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “I used to. Now I coach the boy’s team at Karasuno.”

“I went to Karasuno,” you said mindlessly, just trying to make conversation at that point.

He hummed in response and turned his attention back to the sheet before him. “Did you play volleyball?”

“No. Soccer.”

“Do you still play?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you still play volleyball?”

“With a neighbourhood association sometimes . . . but not really.”

“Why?”

The corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk, Keishin looked back to you once more. “I asked you first.”

“It’s not a good answer.” You leaned against the broom handle and sighed. “Don’t have the time.”

“You’re young and just graduated high school. You’ve got nothing but time.”

“Not with this job.”

Keishin scoffed, folded the paper, and shoved it back into his pocket with the pen. “Speaking of which, why would you take such a boring job at a store like this?”

You just shrugged. “I need the money.”

“Don’t you live with your parents?”

“That’s the problem,” you said, noticing the confusion on his face. “I told you it wasn’t a good answer.”

“Do they know you work here?”

“Do they know? Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Do they like it? Absolutely not.”

Keishin grinned at that before finishing his beer and tossing the empty can into the recycling bin beside the front door. “So you’re one of those teens, huh?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Trust me, kid, pissing off your parents just for the sake of it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You think I’m doing all this just because I can?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Why then?”

“That story’s too long and convoluted for me to recite right now . . . especially to some old dude I just met today.”

Keishin chuckled under his breath, hands stuffed into his pockets as he headed for the door at the back of the shop so he could head upstairs to his apartment. “’Old dude’,” he repeated, clearly amused. “Don’t forget to lock up before you go home.”

As he turned his back to you, your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”

Stopping in his tracks, Keishin pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his pants’ pocket along with a lighter. After placing the smoke between his lips, he lit it and inhaled deeply. “Too old for you, sweetheart,” he spoke while exhaling, smoke spilling from his lips as he smirked at you.

With that, he disappeared into the back. You wanted to shout after him that you had told him how old you were without hesitation when he had asked, but you stayed silent instead.

As much as his presence unnerved you and his superiority complex aggravated you, you still found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Maybe it was because he seemed completely disinterested in you, or maybe it was because he was everything you were always told to stay away from.

The one thing you did know, however, was that if everyone around you was going to keep trying to convince you they knew how you should live your life better than you did, you were going to prove to them just how they wrong they were one way or another.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #lostinthewiind #fanfiction #fluff #eventual smut #ukai keishin #reader insert #x reader #reader imagine #song fic #ukai keishin x reader #ukai #keishin #smut #haikyuu smut

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thewayshedreamed · 3 years

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Congrats on the 800 followers bby you deserve it! I have a good one for you. I slipped and fell in the shower and the only person who can help me is my enemy for nessian 👀👀👀

Well, Sim, it was you who BLEW my word count. I should have seen it coming, I guess 👀

Although, I will say you didn't do it alone. I also combined @maastrash 's prompt "Are you hurt? What happened?" and one from anon, "You're cute when you're all worried."

They all went together so well that I couldn't resist. And as a result, you got this 3k+ beast. RIP 800-word limit.

Anyway, I hope you like it, my love! Enjoy!

Nesta wasn't sure why she had agreed to go to the beach with Feyre, Rhysand, and his brothers. Gwyn had come through in her time of need and agreed to join them, but she'd quickly flipped her allegiances to spend more time on the beach with the others instead of retreating back to the house with Nesta. She had a suspicion it had something to do with a certain tall, dark, and broody man who hoarded his smiles from the public eye.

Unless the public eye belonged to Gwyneth Berdara.

After the long trek to their rented beach house, Nesta stopped at the edge of the dock to knock the sand from her shoes. There was a small shower outside the backdoor to rinse the saltwater and stubborn sand from her body, and Nesta hissed against the stark cold that rained down on her legs. A proper shower was the only thing that was going to combat the chill in her blood, and that realization was enough to solidify her decision to stay inside the rest of the afternoon with a romance novel.

Her towel was full of sand, so she hanged it over the porch railing and headed directly to the bathroom. It was best if she peeled her bikini off in the shower to avoid scattering any lingering sand all over her bedroom, so she moved swiftly into the small bathroom and cranked the water nearly to the warmest setting. The firm grip of her arms around her body did very little to combat the goosebumps on her skin, and she let out a near moan at the feel of the hot water.

She closed the shower door behind her and stood beneath the spray properly to rinse her hair. Her bikini made a loud slopping sound against the tile in the corner. Dealing with it was a task for someone with any motivation beyond warmth and cleanliness.

Nesta lathered her hair and combed a generous amount of conditioner through her strands to help with the detangling process. The wind had created a monster, adding another notch against the beach in her book.

While her conditioner did the Cauldron's work, she grabbed a wash cloth and body wash. As she moved back beneath the spray, her foot slipped over the suds near the drain, but Nesta righted herself with a firm hand against the tile wall. The excessive amount of conditioner wasn't helping matters.

She rinsed her hair and body all at once to get to her lounge clothes as soon as possible. Stepping out of the spray to hang her washcloth on the nearby rack to dry was near torture now that she was properly warmed, and Nesta wasted no time in stepping back into the water for one last hit before shutting it off.

That was her intention, anyway. What happened instead is that her traitorous feet were no match for the slick tile, and the backward steps were all it took to send her careening to the floor. She slapped at the wall to no avail, finding no ally in reach. What she did find was insult to injury when various toiletry bottles rained down on top of her.

She had stupidly tried to brace her fall with her other hand, sending a spark of pain from her palm to her shoulder. Her groan echoed off the walls and the shower showed no mercy as the water rained onto her chest, all over her face.

A booming voice made her eyes snap open, only to snap them shut against the sting of the water.

"Nes?"

Her delay had been too long. The bathroom door burst open, and through the frosted glass, she saw Cassian's imposing form assessing the situation.

"Nesta? Are you hurt? What happened?"

This could not be happening. Of all the fuckers to be in the house at one of her lowest points, it had to be Cassian. Gwyn would be hearing about this.

"Go away."

She cringed against how dejected she sounded. Turning her head and shielding her eyes with her uninjured arm, she found that he did no such thing.

"Cassian," she warned. "Get the fuck out of here. Now."

He propped a hip on the bathroom counter. Arrogant bastard. At least, from what she could tell, his chin was turned up toward the ceiling rather than his gaze being fixed on the frosted glass.

"Something tells me things aren't going well if you've yet to peel yourself off the floor."

Nesta rolled her eyes and turned her face toward the water once more. Maybe she could drown.

"Let me help."

"I thought I was pretty clear. I'm not accepting help from you."

A deep sigh sounded in the bathroom, but before she could snap, his rough voice followed.

"Fine. Don't accept my help. Rhys came with me to grab snacks for the others. I'll have him switch with me."

"No," she roared, cringing against the command in her voice and her lack of options.

Every time she tried to sit up, pain tore through various parts of her body. Her ass, the hip that had taken most of the impact, her shoulder. She needed help, and while she hated the idea of accepting it from Cassian, she would rot in hell before Rhysand helped her out of the shower. How had she found herself in a situation where her only chance at help was the man who spent the majority of his life being as big of a pain in her ass as possible?

His voice sounded again, but it carried away from her. "Rhys, head back without me." His brother's voice came next, but Nesta couldn't hear him over the patter of water in the shower. "Nah, I'm good. Just taking a break from the sun. I'll catch up."

With that, he shut the bathroom door behind him. At least Cassian had the good sense to lie to Rhys rather than recruit any additional attention to her compromising position.

"Alright, Sweetheart. I've got a towel ready. I'm going to open up and shut the water off."

Nesta's breath hitched at the rush of cool air, at the form that cast her in shadow almost entirely. She pulled her legs up and shielded her chest with her good arm, earning a throaty chuckle from her savior.

"I'm not looking. I'd rather when a woman wants me to see them naked."

Why her need to launch jabs at him overpowered her pain was lost on her. "Must have been a while, then."

"Saw a good set out on the beach, actually. She was feeling pretty generous after watching me and Az play volleyball, I guess."

Nesta scowled. That tingling sensation down her spine didn't feel secondary to her injuries at hearing the story.

"You're a pig," she grumbled, but she let Cassian drape the towel over her front and ease her into a sitting position.

"It felt rude not to look."

Her huff of a laugh was genuine. Damn him. He moved to wrap the towel tightly around her shoulders.

"Think you can stand up?"

Nesta grimaced against the soreness in her hip. "Yeah. In a couple of minutes."

Without a word, Cassian hoisted her into his arms with measured gentleness. Her cheek rested against his shoulder since she didn't have her arms free to prop her up, but she barely had the energy anyway.

He maneuvered them out of the tight bathroom and down the hall to her room, easing her onto the edge of her bed. She opened her mouth to say thanks, but he had already spurred into action.

"What did you want to wear?"

"I'll get it."

He shot her a glare. "Fine. I'll pick."

Nesta growled her frustration, but Cassian only ticked his eyebrows upward in challenge. She hadn't realized initially that he wore only his swim trunks, half of his black hair pulled back and out of his face. The sun added color to his already bronze skin and left a soft blush on his cheeks that accented his hazel eyes. And she, to the contrary, was a lump beneath a massive towel. One that had managed to injure herself during a simple shower, evidenced by the soaked strands of hair plastered to her face and shoulders.

"There's a large night shirt in my suitcase and some sleep shorts."

Cassian grabbed them before turning toward her, a hand gripping the back of his neck. "Anything... underneath?"

Nesta allowed a sardonic laugh. "Underwear are for people with the use of both their arms."

He cleared his throat and left the clothes next to her on the bed. With a final instruction to call for him if she needed anything, he was gone.

She assessed the clothing and picked the shirt up first. One of her arms was through a sleeve in no time, but the second one was another story entirely. With a defeated whimper she gave up, dropping her arms into her lap with a hiss.

"Cassian!"

No response. Maybe he didn't hear her; the house was rather large. Her voice was louder the second time.

"Cassian!"

A muffled thud sounded, followed by a quick, "Coming!"

He appeared at the threshold of her door, dripping with water and suds. A large towel was wrapped around his waist, his grip white-knuckled to keep it in place.

"Everything alright? Where's the fire?"

Nesta blinked at him. "You said to call you if I needed anything," she pointed out, running her eyes over his state in accusation.

Cassian let out a long, suffering sigh. "I meant it, but you said you had this part covered. I take a 3-minute shower, tops."

"Well, I don't have it covered."

There was more bite to her voice than she'd intended, but self-pity and shame were settling into her bones. She hugged the nightshirt tighter against her body to serve as some form of armor, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Cassian's shoulders sagged, but she barely noticed in favor of watching beads of water travel down his torso, over his strong calves, and make a small puddle on the floor below. "I'm sorry. I was full of sweat and sand. I thought you'd be more likely to take help if I was clean."

Something in her chest softened at his forethought, even more so since he was right.

"Go finish your shower," she relented, settling her hips deeper into the mattress. "I can wait until you're done. I just— I need some help with my clothes."

He was on the balls of his feet, ready to haul himself straight to the shower. The water beneath his feet made her breath hitch. The words left her before she could think better of them.

"Careful! Don't rush." He blinked as if seeing her for the first time, but his usual cocky grin eventually stretched across lips. "I can't help you if you fall, too. And I'm not keeping you company on the ground until the rest of them come back."

Cassian's smile grew. He offered her a wink before he replied, "You're cute when you're all worried."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Go."

He hurried off on balanced feet, whether that was on Nesta's orders or a natural grace, she wasn't sure. While she waited, she opted to set them up as best as possible to make the process quick and painless. Well, minimally painful, considering there was a layer of awkwardness that was going nowhere fast. That was without counting the actual physical pain she would no doubt endure.

With a pathetic swatting motion, she knocked her sleep shorts to the floor and began shuffling them around with her feet. She'd managed to slip one into the proper leg hole before she heard Cassian's rich laugh from the doorway.

"Stubborn woman," he mused, seemingly allowing a sliver of affection to slip through. Nesta knew better.

She scowled, turning her chin up to make sure he knew how unwelcome his teasing was. He laughed harder and dropped to his knees in front of her, adjusting the tee he’d pulled over his head on his way into the room.

"What do you want to put on first? You're half-committed to both."

"Let's go with the shirt. It's long enough to cover me while we work on the shorts." Cassian nodded, reaching toward the crumpled article of clothing in her lap. Nesta jerked back to establish some expectations before moving forward. "You're about to see me naked."

"Yeah, probably," he sighed, as if it was a burden to him, too. "I won't look more than necessary though."

"Okay, good. And this doesn't change anything, so don't start acting weird around me. We take this to the grave, too. We'll never hear the end of it otherwise."

Cassian bit the inside of his cheek, pursing his lips in a failed attempt to hide his amusement. "You have my word."

He gently peeled the shirt from her grasp, sliding each sleeve beyond the crooks of her elbows before pulling the opening over her head. Nesta hissed at the pinch of pain through her shoulder but bit her tongue.

"I know. I'm sorry." He pulled the fabric down her sides and over her back. The backs of his knuckles dragged across her soft skin, and she barely contained her shiver.

Clearing his throat, he looked to the floor where her shorts were still tangled around her feet. He got to work on straightening them and allowed her to slip her other foot into the proper place. He didn't dare look up at her through his next request.

"Think you could put your weight on the leg that's not as sore?"

Nesta swallowed and said, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Use my shoulders to brace your weight, too.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for him. He was solid beneath her, the muscles in his shoulders unyielding under her grip. She had to resist flexing her fingers more firmly in a test of their resilience.

Cassian eased her shorts upward, the roughness of his knuckles tracing the same blazing path as they had over her back. His gaze was fixed resolutely on the floor, yet he managed to release them at the proper moment. The soft pop of the elastic snapped her out of whatever trance she was under, but the echo remained in the feel of his warm hands easing her hips back down to the mattress.

"Maybe we should have someone take a look at you; make sure you're okay." His brows came together when he realized she was already shaking her head in refusal.

"I'll rest a bit, and I'll be fine. I may be sore tomorrow, but I'm good."

Without a word, Cassian braced one of his legs outward and scooped Nesta into his arms. It grated her nerves how easily he'd lifted them both into a standing position.

"What are you doing? You can't make me go to the doctor."

Cassian leaned back and shook his head, trying to get his rogue hair out of his face. "I'm not manhandling you to the doctor, Nes. Settle down." His bottom lip jutted out to try and blow the strands away while he walked. "I'm taking you to the couch and getting you ice."

Oh. Well, that hadn't been what she expected. The gesture was enough to have her mindlessly raise a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes snapped to hers, his steps slowing to a stop in front of the couch. Their faces were close enough that she could run her nose along his if she wanted to, but she definitely didn't. Not even at the feel of his firm chest heaving against her.

They stayed that way, transfixed by the contact that was somehow more intimate than when he had draped clothes over her naked body. Their breathing settled into a rhythm together, and Nesta couldn't resist tracing the path of his sharp jaw. His slight stubble scraped against the pads of her fingers, all the way to his chin, where she grazed over his skin with her thumb. She snatched her hand away like he'd burned her.

Cassian's throat bobbed, and his fingers flexed against her ribs. His other hand did the same against her thigh, except his thumb traced a soft, idle path back and forth along the sensitive skin at the back. He made no moves to put her down.

Nesta knew she would regret the loss of his warmth immediately, but the line they flirted was thin. Not to mention, it was irresponsible to succumb to such a base urge considering, any other time, they would be poised to rip each others' heads off.

The shrieks of children at the neighboring beach house snapped their attention to something beyond the bubble they'd created for themselves. Cassian eased her to the couch and positioned pillows around her to keep as much pressure off of her aching joints as possible. He threw a blanket over her legs before heading to the nearby kitchen for ice.

Nesta watched his retreat with shameless appreciation. How had she never stopped to look at him through her current lens? Doing so may have been enough to make her more agreeable in nature. The thought made worry sink in her gut with what had transpired moments before, and she craved the oddly familiar banter they'd engaged in since he showed up to the scene of her demise.

"So," she called, eyes fixed on the intricately patterned throw pillow beneath her injured arm, "how much did you see?"

His voice was closer than she'd expected, but she managed not to startle. "Uh— I mean. I saw some things."

Nesta fixed her glare on him, and he gave her a sideways smile while he placed the ice strategically over her shoulder. She hissed against the cold, earning a look of apology.

"What things?"

He let out along breath. "A bit of everything, really. Not on purpose. " A slight blush turned the tips of his ears pink, but Nesta didn't comment on it. "Mostly, you know—" He gestured back and forth between his pecs. "—everything else was more... indirect, I guess."

Nesta groaned, allowing her forehead to fall to her good hand, cradling it in her palm. Cassian moved to the nearby armchair and took a sip of his bottled water.

"Don't be embarrassed, Sweetheart," he soothed, albeit mockingly. "They're not the worst ones I've seen today."

—

They had watched a movie in loaded silence until the others trudged up to the house near sunset. Nesta gave the cliff notes of how she'd wound up injured on the couch, making no mention of Cassian's help. The last thing they needed was an onslaught of questions from their nosy friends.

"I thought you were coming back out there. What happened to you?"

Cassian's brows drew together at Rhys' question. "Well, I saw Nesta laid up on the couch and offered to watch a movie with her. I lost track of time."

Rhysand eyed him skeptically, but no one questioned it. Cassian redirected everyone's attention to the matter of what they would cook as a group that night, but he was sure to give Nesta strict orders to stay planted on the couch. Overbearing prick.

With so many hands on deck, dinner was ready quickly. They all settled around the table, and Gwyn had made it a point to cushion Nesta's chair with pillows before letting her sit down. Her best friend must have sensed the verbal lashing that awaited her in the privacy of their shared room that night.

Laughter filled the space while they told stories from the day's events. Apparently, Azriel had rescued Gwyn from a feared creature of the deep while taking a dip in the water. He had hardly been able to stop laughing himself to tears long enough to complete the epic tale of how he defeated the bundle of seaweed that had threatened Gwyn's life so mercilessly. The latter hadn't found it quite so amusing, but Az offered her a broad smile in apology.

Nesta wasn't sure she had ever seen one quite so wide on his face, and holy gods. If she'd thought him to be beautiful before, she had been sorely mistaken.

As they usually did, Rhysand and Feyre settled close to each other as the other talked. Rhys was busy murmuring things into Feyre's ear that made her cheeks as red as Gwyn's sunburn, which earned a proper warning from Cassian to "stop being gross with his little sister". Nesta agreed with him enough to refrain from reminding him that he was in no way related to Feyre.

"Don't mind him, Darling," Rhys purred. "He's pouting because the only action he'll see during this trip will be self-directed."

Cassian nostrils flared in annoyance, and for whatever reason, Nesta found herself rising to his defense.

"I don't know," she sang, "I hear Cassian saw a pretty good set today."

A chorus of questions broke out, but he only had eyes for Nesta. The gleam in his eyes told her he knew she hadn't been referring to the ones flashed to him and Azriel after the beach volleyball game.

"I did," he agreed, sipping some of the amber liquid in his glass. "Perfect, actually."

The questions continued, and Azriel reluctantly began recounting the tale of he and Cassian's victory flashing. Nesta used her good arm to raise her wine to her lips, mouthing a subtle thank you over the glass for everything he'd done for her. The least she could do was preserve a bit of his dignity.

Cassian lifted his class in mock cheers and said everything he needed to with a single wink.

The pleasure was all mine.

#nessian #nessian au #acotar au #cassian x nesta #nessian hurt comfort #nessian tension #enemies prompt #800 followers celebration #twsd writes #twsd fics #perseusannabeth #sim tag

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saiqherrr · 3 years

Text

— earth is so rough (m. fushiguro)

.pairing megumi x fem!reader

.content warning/tags fluff, cuddling, kissing, hugging, abuse, daddy issues, lil angst

.synopsis megumi wants to run away with you

.a/n this is dedicated to my very good friend honda. ily. the biggest megumi fan ik. yeah so here. also, the plot is inspired by tyler the creator’s song, “okaga ca”. there might be some typos, i did not proof read at all. i will be editing this from time to time to fix it up so yuh

megumi is 18.

THEY GOT INTO IT AGAIN. megumi and his intense, persistent father had contended once more. when he called you and asked you to pick him up from his place, you didn’t ask questions, nor did you hesitate. you knew his circumstances well. toji’s father was an over-achiever and he anticipated his son to be the same way. there was continuously something off-base with anything megumi did. megumi couldn’t recall the last time his father ever said the words “i’m proud of you.”

megumi had gotten into your car with a black, fitted t-shirt on, grey sweatpants and old sneakers. you could tell he had just gotten out of the shower, too; his hair was down like his fathers, his damp, black locks of hair stuck to his face in contrast to the gelled up spiky style he usually rocked. he smelled like coco butter, most likely from the lotion he used. his dark eyes met yours once he settled into the car. they were bloodshot and you swore you could see them tremble.

did he make him cry?

usually, when megumi quarreled with his father, he was left irate and disillusioned, however, it rarely ever made him sad. megumi noticed you had observed his eyes for too long and he adverted them quickly.

you gulped, fixing your hold on the wheel as you watched him buckle in his seat belt. sighing sadly, you put the car in drive and made your way to a parking lot near a playground, a spot where you knew you could see the moon from.

you both sat in silence for a while. he sniffed a couple of times and cleared his throat. you wanted to know what happened this time specifically because it seemed to have left megumi so shaken up. you jumped the gun and decided to ask.

“megumi, what happened?”

he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. it seemed to bother him that you asked since you’ve never asked before. “we argued, that’s it.” his voice was so stern it made you flinched.

“then what did your father say that was different this time? you were cry-”

“nothing was different.” megumi raised his voice. he desperately wanted you to stop asking. digging deep was something he wasn’t used to.

“quit lying to me,” you persisted.

megumi kissed his teeth and threw the back of his head against the seat. “for fucks sake, y/n, why are you pressing me so hard about it?” megumi’s voice lamentably split and he let out an unstable breath afterward. he was crying again. he felt his throat closing up, his face becoming a slight shade of red as he was trying to hold his tears back. a conspicuous vein appeared on the side of his neck and his hands clasped together on the back of his neck.

the sight felt so unnatural for you. you had never seen megumi this way and a heavy feeling sat in your heart. “megumi...stop...” he was starting to scare you. your eyebrows jerked, curling upwards in concern as you put your hand on his thigh, squeezing it. “please, let it out.” your voice was soft but oddly encouraging. it was enough to let megumi’s emotions free. the car was filled with megumi’s excruciating cries. ugly, uproarious crying filled each zone of the car. his breathing was sporadic, his face clenched with distress. his cries would falter in certain minutes and after that begin once more with boisterous wails. you rubbed his back in an endeavor to calm him down, hoping he’d be able to express himself properly.

the crying subsided eventually, and his breathing had become stable. his nose was red, his eyes were swollen and the right side of his lip was bleeding from biting on it. “i’m sorry...”

“for what?” you ask, confused.

megumi gulped and looked out the window. “for crying like that...”

your body got chills, hearing him feel guilty for showing emotion. it was probably something that his father had beat into him. “megumi, don’t ever apologize for expressing yourself.” megumi looked like he was gonna cry again, but not because he was upset about what you said, but because he wished his father had given him emotional support like normal, supportive fathers would. he held back this time because he genuinely wanted to keep his composure to talk. “let’s get some air.”

megumi nodded as you both got out of the car. you let the car stop running but left it on and turned up the volume to let the math-rock playlist you had playing be louder so you could hear it just enough on the outside. you both got onto the front of your car and laid back on it.

megumi looked at you with those raven eyes and clenched his jaw. you saw youth in his eyes, innocence. you saw a child that never got to properly grow up. “he told me...he was better off selling me... to the clan.”

your heart dropped and you turned away from him as the words repeated in your head. you knew toji could be vicious and stern, but you didn’t know he could say something so heartless to his son. now everything made sense as to why megumi was so distraught.

“that... was really wrong.” your voice was two-dimensional, but you were at a loss of words. “i don’t know what to say, megumi, i’m sorry.”

megumi chuckled. “it’s fine. it’s fucked, i know. i didn’t know what to say either.” he got quiet all of a sudden, an eerily pleasant smile grew on his face. “i just wished he loved me.”

the words made your lips part in shock. you wanted to respond, but nothing came out of your mouth. megumi didn’t take his eyes off the moon, and that smile still didn’t fade. “megumi, i do genuinely think your father loves you...but he has a very hard time showing it.”

“i don’t know...i don’t care. i just don’t want to be around him anymore,” he utters. he extended his arm and put it around you, and proceeded to pull you closer to his body. his body warmth comforted you. this was all you needed in your life, his content. your nail drew circles on his chest and he rubbed your back simultaneously. he suddenly picked your small body up and placed you on top of his own, pulling you down by the neck so that your lips could arrive at his.

you both shared a few tiny pecks before your tongues started clashing together. he slides his tongue along your mouth. it was a muddled and somewhat abnormal kiss however it didn't make any difference to neither of you. there was love with each touch, every smooch. you both forgot about oxygen, desperately breaking away from one another.

you looked down into his eyes and smiled. “i love you so much, megumi.” your voice was close to a whisper. megumi stared into your eyes for what felt like forever. he finally spoke

“y/n, would you run away with me?”

“run away?” you repeat. your eyebrows knitted together, baffled. “why...?”

“wouldn’t be fun? we’re 18. we’re about to graduate school.” he spoke of it so casually as if there was no flaw to the sudden idea. “i want to get away from here, but i don’t want to abandon you.”

“all this is so sudden, megumi. i’m willing to do a lot for you, but i’m more worried about you making a decision you might regret-” he quickly cut you off.

“i won’t regret it.” megumi’s voice was so serious. as serious as the time he first said he loved you. your pupils grew with excitement. “so are you going to come?”

you nodded eagerly, your face flushed with giddy warmth. you two broke the embrace and didn’t hesitate to get into the car again. you turned down the music and put the key into the ignition, the engine revving up.

you guys didn’t have a set destination, but if you went straight ahead, you knew the place wouldn’t matter as long as you were far, far away from home. after an hour of driving, you were getting tired and decided to find out the nearest motel. you were lucky enough to have some cash on you. once you located the motel, you drove there quickly, eager to be in a bed. megumi had his seat cranked back, laying on it peacefully.

you nudged him a little bit it to wake him up. “gumi..”

megumi jolted out of his sleep, flinching hard and his eyes shooting open. you giggled uncontrollably. the way megumi always woke up from his sleep like he was panicked was comical to you.

“we’re at a motel. we’ll rest here for tonight.”

he nodded as he continued to awake himself from his nap. his phone buzzed and it slightly startled him. you watched him as his phone illuminated his pale face. you watched his jaw clench. “what’s wrong?”

“it’s my dad.”

you leaned over to see what he saw. there were a couple of messages, a few minutes apart, the last one was sent just a second ago.

i shouldn’t have said that to you. 9:14 pm

i’m sorry. 9:20 pm

come back as soon as possible 9:21 pm

are you with y/n?? she’s welcome to stay over once you come back. 9:40 pm

i know you’re mad, i’m sorry i really am megumi. 9:43 pm

i know i’m not the best father. i just don’t want to see you fail. i don’t want you to make the same mistakes i did. it’s not excuse, but i never meant to hurt you. 9:45pm

come back home as soon as you can. i love you son 10:21 pm

you blinked a couple of times and sighed heavily. “do you want to go ba-”

“no.” megumi responded, but it sounded like he was pleading. it sounded forced, as if he wanted to prove something.

you got into the parking lot of the hotel and the two of you got out and hurriedly checked in. those messages toji sent to megumi appeared in your mind. you knew he loved megumi, but you wished megumi could see it and accept it. their relationship as son and father needed some work, but it wasn’t bad enough to completely disappear.

megumi’s phone buzzed again as they walked down the corridor to find their room.

wherever you are, i hope you are safe. 10:35 pm

megumi cursed under his breath and put his phone on do not disturb. you couldn’t read the message, but you knew it was from toji from megumi’s reaction.

you took the key to your room and opened it and megumi didn’t even have to think about getting into bed. before he did, he stripped himself of his t-shirt and pants, leaving himself in only his boxers and his white tank top. you slid your jeans off your legs and crossed your arms over yourself to take off the tight shirt. you took megumi’s black shirt instead and put it over your body. it was way bigger compared to your figure, you giggled internally.

you slid into bed, throwing the cover over you as megumi did the same.

you both faced each other and smiled. “i love you.” you both, surprisingly, said it in unison and shared a quick kiss before megumi spooned you and held you close to his body.

in the middle of the night, you felt megumi’s embrace melt away as he turned over. you still were fast asleep, but he wasn’t. he was up, repeatedly reading over the messages toji had sent him, crying silently. warm tears rolled from the corner of his eyes and over the bridge of his nose before they got to the other side of his face.

at around four in the morning, megumi had ordered himself a taxi and discreetly put his pants on and went outside once his ride arrived. he knew he had to go back home. he knew he couldn’t put you through that situation. he knew he wanted to fix things with his father. he sent a text to you for you to see when you’d wake up.

sorry for being spontaneous. i’m going home. come home, too. 4:38 am

megumi thanked the taxi driver for driving such a long distance before he got out and walked up his porch steps. he ranged the doorbell and he hoped his father would hear it so he wouldn’t be outside for too long.

what megumi didn’t know, was that toji was waiting for him, on the couch, sleeping super lightly. once he heard that doorbell rang, he sprang up to his feet and charged to the door, unlocking both locks and swinging it open. his heart pounded once he saw his son and pulled him in for a hug without saying a word.megumi’s arms wrapped around his father’s built figure and he silently cried, as did toji, as they shared a sentimental embrace.

by the time you woke up, it was nine in the morning. you yawned and stretched, cracking a few bones. you sat up quickly once you realized megumi was not in bed with you. you checked your phone immediately and saw his message. you sighed with relief because one, he was safe, and two, he went back to his father.

#megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk fushiguro #megumi fluff #fushiguro megumi #megumi x y/n #jujutsu kaisen toji

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

Text

IUI - The Way I Love You

bear with me here folks

I know the Idiots are usually soft af. but my lovely spouse/fiance/soon-to-be-fiance and beta @dani-dandelino hit me with an idea and I added a dash handful of angst bc i couldn’t help it

Warnings: feelings of inadequacy, fear of breakup (no actual breakup I promise), miscommunication, drunk af Geralt, past shitty relationships, happy ending tho I promise, there’s tears but they’re happy I swear.

______________________________________

Geralt only ever got sloppy drunk when Jaskier was the DD. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t trust anyone else, it was that he didn’t trust his drunk boyfriend not to goad him into something stupid.

The last time they’d both gotten fucked up outside of their apartment they woke up with three traffic cones and a “Speed Hump” sign in their living room. When they asked Triss what happened she sent them a video of them giggling as they tried to fit the sign into her trunk.

After hanging the sign in their apartment, they decided it may be best to take turns.

This particular instance, they’d dropped Triss and Yen off and were on their way home, Geralt’s head lolling against the window as he fought to stay awake.

“I’m not carrying your perky ass upstairs,” Jaskier laughed, snapping his fingers near Geralt’s ear.

Geralt grumbled but sat up straight and leaned into Jaskier’s outstretched hand, “Radio.”

Affectionately rolling his eyes, Jaskier pulled his hand away and flipped on the radio. Geralt immediately gasped and started singing along off key and slurred. The first time Jaskier heard Geralt scream along to Taylor Swift he’d been shocked, if extremely endeared.

“BUT I MISS SCREAMIN’ AND FIGHTIN AND KISSIN IN THE RAIN! IT’S TWO AM AND I’M CURSIN’ YOUR NAME! SO IN LOVE THAT WE ACTED INSANE, AND THAT’S THE WAY I LOVED YOUUUUUUUUU!”

Jaskier turned the volume down to a reasonable level when Geralt cranked it so loud his ears might start ringing. He rolled his eyes when Geralt started singing it to him, taking the shortcut home and trying to ignore the little pit forming in his stomach.

When the song ended Geralt turned the radio down and picked up his hand not gripping the steering wheel, “Jask?”

“Mhm?”

Even in the car, Geralt glanced around conspiratorially before whispering, “I have a secret.”

Fear flared in Jaskier’s chest but he took a deep, calming breath, reminding himself who he was talking to. His boyfriend thought secrets were fun. Mostly because Geralt’s version of a secret was keeping what he made for dinner a surprise until Jaskier got home. He’d even felt guilty not telling Jaskier he was seeing a therapist when they’d started dating. For all his gruff exterior and suspicion, Geralt really was an open book with those he loved and trusted. Jaskier had a very different idea of what secrets in a relationship meant.

“What’s that, love?”

Geralt giggled as he traced the edges of a magnolia on the back of Jaskier’s wrist, “That is the way I love you.”

Luckily for Jaskier’s car, they were rolling up to a stop sign. He had time to loose his breath for a moment and fight back the initial feeling of shame and anger with himself before he pulled his hand away and gripped the steering wheel as he punched the gas.

Through gritted teeth, he said the gentlest thing he could think of, “We don’t kiss in the rain.”

Geralt frowned, almost pouted at him, “I still love you.”

A part of Jaskier wanted to scream at Geralt, another part wanted to pull over and make him walk home, thankfully the loudest part reminded him the idiot was just drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying and he thought he was being sweet. There was also a good possibility he would cry himself to sleep in the passenger seat if Jaskier yelled at him and last time he tried to carry Geralt to bed his back hurt for a week.

“I love you too,” Jaskier sighed as he pulled into their parking spot.

He didn’t sleep well that night. Not because his sweaty, smelly, and fidgety boyfriend clung to him in his sleep, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about the ride home.

Jaskier had lived in relationships like that for most of his adult life. Hell, even in his teens. They were nothing but all consuming passion with no connection to support it and left both parties jaded and lost. When he left his mentor he’d sat in Yen’s chair for hours and hours, until his arm had gone numb, and the only thing he could think was ‘never again’.

And now Geralt thought he was being cute. The ridiculously meticulous and serious man was only ever sappy when he got drunk and now instead of reveling in it like he’d like, Jaskier was staring at the clock on his nightstand calculating how exhausted he’d be in the morning as the minutes ticked by.

Turns out, he was at least in the land of the living by the time Geralt shuffled into the kitchen with his hands in his hair and a pained expression.

“Feel like shit.”

Jaskier hummed in agreement as he sipped his morning tea and shifted in his seat to see better out the window.

After popping a few anti-inflammatories and nibbling on a cracker before giving up on food, Geralt lumbered up behind Jaskier and draped his arms over his shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

“S’nothing. I’m just being… touchy.”

Geralt pressed a light kiss over the hellebore tattoo on Jaskier’s neck, “I doubt it.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as Jaskier laid his hand over Geralt’s arm across his chest, “I don’t want to lose this.”

“Why…? What makes you think you would?” Geralt was a little slower on the draw hungover, but he knelt next to Jaskier’s chair and rested a hand on his knee as he waited for a response. He only ever looked so worried when Roach had an abscess and it broke Jaskier’s heart. He didn’t want to say it and ruin everything.

After a deep breath in, he mumbled out his answer, “Do you really love me like that song?”

“What song?” Geralt breathed, his thumb brushing back and forth over Jaskier’s knee.

“The uh, Way I Loved You one.”

Geralt searched his face for a beat, the crease between his eyebrows only deepening, “Of course I do.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling as he forced all the air from his lungs in the hopes it would do something to stop the tears from falling. When it was clear he would lose the battle he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands.

“You… don’t want me to?” Geralt sounded close to tears himself, but he didn’t take his hand off Jaskier’s thigh.

“No- yes! No?” Jaskier sniffed and wiped at his face but didn’t lean back to look at Geralt, “I- Geralt I can’t just fill a hollow relationship with lust. We ha- I thought we had more? But if you want the- the fights and the hate fucking- I don’t- Geralt I don’t want that. Not with anyone but not with you. Ne-”

“Hey, hey,” Geralt tugged at Jaskier’s arm, gathering him to his chest when the brunette melted into sobs, “I don’t want that. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry I let you think that.” He cradled Jaskier’s head to his shoulder, pressing kisses into his hair between softly spoken apologies and reassurances. They stayed there until Jaskier’s tea went cold and his sobs were closer to little gasps.

Eventually, Jaskier lifted his head and met Geralt’s eyes, “H-how do you love me?”

Geralt licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper, “Not- It’s not hollow.”

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to Geralt’s, “Please?”

One of Geralt’s hands came up to cup Jaskier’s cheek as he took a deep breath, “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you… I never wanted to be romantic with anyone until you. You… You make me feel… safe. I’m never bored of you or numb or sick of you. This is the first relationship I’ve had where I bother to fight, Jask. I love you so much it makes me do things I never thought to do and I’m glad and I never want to change anything about us. Never.”

A shiver ran down Jaskier’s spine as relief flooded his whole body. His throat ached from crying and his shoulders were sore from holding all that tension in a way they hadn’t for years, but he’d never felt so good. Geralt loved him. Him. Not some tumultuous relationship or the sex or the drama of it all. Someone finally loved him for him.

It hadn’t really hit Jaskier till then. They’d said ‘I love you’, sure, but he hadn’t really believed Geralt, just like he’d stopped believing the string of selfish lovers before him.

“Thank Mellitelle,” Jaskier laughed, just on this side of hysterical as he tightened his grip around Geralt’s shoulders, “I fucking love how boring we are. And you. Fuck I really really do love you.”

“Even when I smell like my regulars?” Geralt teased, intentionally huffing a little extra and dosing Jaskier in his horrendous hangover morning breath.

Jaskier wrinkled his nose but smiled and kissed him anyway, “Of course.”

“Mhh,” Geralt pulled away for a moment, brushing his thumb over Jaskier’s crows feet in a silent request for him to open his eyes, “Can we go back to bed?”

“The crying does it for you, huh?” Jaskier chuckled, his voice was still weak but his laugh was genuine.

“I’m so dizzy, Jask,” squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head ever so slightly, Geralt plopped back onto his heels. If Jaskier hadn’t witnessed just how much he drank he’d say he was lying, but Jaskier was truly surprised he’d even climbed out of bed this morning.

“Mkay, up. Back to bed then.”

They settled under the blankets and tangled themselves back together. Geralt hummed, closing his eyes and squeezing Jaskier a little tighter.

New, happier tears threatened at the corners of his eyes but he pushed them down, opting to trace the corner of Geralt’s buttercup tattoo peeking out of his shirt, “I love you.”

Geralt took a deep breath in before he sighed out a rumbling, “I know.”

“No, Geralt. Really,” Jaskier laid his hand over the yellow and green ink, “I’ve said these words more times than I can count but I don’t think I ever really understood them until you.”

“Jaski-”

“I love you,” Jaskier’s interruption was far smaller and far more fragile than he had intended. His words just continued to spill out, “You’re steady and calm and I’ve never had that. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like and I’m constantly scared I’m gonna fuck it up…”

Comforting fingers ran through his hair as Geralt murmured his reply, “Me too,” Jaskier just squeezed his shoulder in a bit of solidarity and a bit of selfish comfort, “But I think we’re doing alright…”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” Geralt started, shifting so he was practically engulfing Jaskier, “we both still love each other, and...” his boyfriend pinched him when he trailed off, pretending to fall asleep in a way that always mad Jaskier giggle, “Ow- and you use the hooks by the front door.”

“I do, don’t I?” Jaskier sniffled, “And you used your words.”

“I’d use all the words for you.”

“All of them?”

Geralt really was drifting away this time, his words coming slowly as his arms relaxed and Jaskier felt their full weight over him, “Not well, but I would...”

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blahkugo · 4 years

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Omakase

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+, smut, slight overstim, all characters are aged up, ofc.

A/N: Happy birthday to the woman that literally birthed my blog, the writer of the best fics I’ve ever read-- *cough Notice, Seven Minutes, Of Love and Lemons, etc.*-- @lookslikeleese. It’s 5 am right now and my brain cannot come up with the proper words, but just know I love you so much. Thank you for creating our entire friend group. I LOVE YOU.

omakase (noun):

(in a Japanese restaurant) a meal consisting of dishes selected by the chef; chef’s choice.

Thirty minutes into supper with the Todorokis, you think your heart may actually stop beating. It’s not the awkward silence, nor the snowstorm of icy glares traveling across the table. You’ve long since made your peace with the scents of charred leather couches and melted silverware that linger in your hair whenever one of the men gets riled up.

No, it’s an issue far more pressing than the typical family drama, a matter that needs to be resolved with stealth— immediately.

It’s Shouto’s fingers, darting into his pocket and pressing a single button. It’s your heels digging into the cool tile beneath you. It’s every nerve standing on end, every passing second sending a wave of heat to your core. Your knuckles blanche, gripping the oak table with such ferocity that it may just snap, and your thighs shake, overwhelmed.

The issue is that there’s a little pink vibrator pressing against your clit and the bi-colored bastard chews his food as though this night is no different than any other.

It doesn’t matter that the toy’s been placed at the lowest setting all night, doesn’t matter that your fingernails relieve a bit of the pressure every time you dig them into your exposed thighs. The only thought crossing your mind is your impending orgasm. How are you supposed to stifle euphoric pleasure when you’re barely able to hold it together now?

“So, how’s that new job going?” Enji asks more out of courtesy than interest. While you typically humor his attempts at placid conversation, you’re too troubled to speak to the stoic man in front of you. What if your juices seep through your soaked panties right onto the chair?

“It’s— ah- it’s really good.”

And this has been your entire night thus far. Feeble efforts to remain coherent, whines and gasps hidden behind awkward coughs— anything and everything you can possibly do to maintain your dignity in the presence of your boyfriend’s father.

“What was that funny story you were telling me earlier today?” Shouto doesn’t miss a beat, sending a quick slant your way before stuffing another bite of rice into his mouth. He knows precisely what he’s doing, can feel the pointed daggers you dig into the side of his head, but his relaxed smile reveals nothing to the three pairs of eyes gazing intently at you, awaiting your response.

“Oh, Mt. Lady, she— oh my god,” As soon as you begin speaking, he cranks the toy up to a new level. Though it’s only for a second, the sound that leaves your body is inhuman, a mortifying cross between a sob and a choke that has your palm slamming onto the table fiercely.

All at once, the table is bustling with concern for your safety. To their naive eyes, it seems you choked on a bite of food, and Fuyumi hurries to grab you a glass of water. Shouto simply remains seated, a slick grin plastered across his face at the sight of your heated cheeks and teary eyes. What the fuck could have possessed you to agree to this in the first place?

“I-I’m okay,” you mumble out, embarrassment shaking you far worse than any sex toy ever could. And that fact— the way your eyebrows knead together in discomfort as you squirm in your seat— is precisely what Shouto wants. You’re no stranger to humiliation, no stranger to the tugging deep in your gut or the heated flush that darts onto your mattress and makes its home on your cheeks.

But this? This type of shame is foreign; it makes your head spin and refuses to waver no matter how much you silently gripe and plead. “Honestly, I feel a bit—” another pulse, another pained gasp from you, “ill.” The words barely make their way out before you’re gritting your teeth, thighs pressing together so tightly they may leave pretty purple marks.

“Maybe I should take her upstairs,” Shouto sighs, faux apology slipping through his mouth with ease. When did the fucker get so good at lying?

And then he’s helping you up from your seat, rubbing tender circles into your back, like any good boyfriend would. But every graze is unbearable, sends a tidal wave of warmth rushing through your core. The most innocent of touches has become obscene, twisted in a way only you and the cool man next to you are able to acknowledge.

As you climb the stairs with shaky legs, you can only pray that the rest of the family doesn’t notice the slick juices trailing down your thighs.

—

“Who knew dinner and a show could be so entertaining?” He teases, just barely dodging the fist you throw half-heartedly at his shoulder. His supple lips are glued into a smirk, one that probably won’t drop until the night is long over.

“Please– I-” you attempt to stifle your moans, but in the comfort of his childhood bedroom you find yourself slipping into a high-pitched whine. “Turn it off.” He seems to debate the plea internally, slender fingers brushing over the buttons until you grip harshly at his bicep. You’ve endured enough misery to last you months.

When he finally switches it off, you feel your entire body slacken and relief wash over you; however, it does nothing for the throbbing in your clit or the pool of desire still brimming in your core. What you crave is his touch, the warmth that pokes and prods at your every muscle, loosening each nerve until you’re a babbling mess— wholly at the mercy of his lithe fingers.

“Shou,” you mewl, voice dripping with desperation. His eyes widen for a quick second, brows raised and shocked by your blatant come-on with his family only a level down. “I need you.”

Those three simple words have him springing into action, shoving you against the mattress. Pinning you beneath him with ease, he hikes your skirt up to your hips before running a slender digit against your clothed slit.

“You made a mess,” his words carry no weight, only amazement at the juices flowing freely through the thin panties and down your thighs. “Probably made a mess all over your chair too.”

With that comment, your shame is back with a vengeance, tinging the tips of your ears and causing you to cry out. Before Shouto, you’d have never thought this sort of depraved commentary could have you shaking. Hell, you’re not sure he even knew what he was doing to you at first; ever oblivious, Shouto simply speaks his mind.

Only when he noticed the effect of his words, did he begin using those passing observations against you. Now, he lives for your reactions, spurs you on if only to see how far a gruff remark can push you— and typically, your limit is reached in wanton sobs and bright red scratch marks down his back.

He doesn’t bother with removing the lace panties, only tugs them to the side so he can brush his fingers against your naked slit. When he pushes a thumb against your clit, you can’t help the loud cry that escapes you. “Bite,” he offers up his wrist so that your moans don’t carry through the thin walls.

Your teeth sink into his flesh, eliciting a sharp breath at the sudden pain. And he enjoys that part too— the lengths you’ll go to achieve pleasure, the stinging reminders of your desire. “Stay quiet for me, yeah?” He tests a finger, then two, knuckles deep in your doughy walls as you writhe on the bed. “Good girl.”

“Mmph,” you feel your eyes roll back at the soft praise, thighs tensing as he begins to pump his digits in and out. “Faster, ah– please.” Your moans are muffled against his arm, but he complies nonetheless, fingers curling and hitting the spot that drums against your heartbeat, that rattles through your brain.

The second he brings his lips to your clit, you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Hair slick with sweat, your hands roam through his own wet strands, gripping and tugging him closer, closer, closer. He suckles hungrily, his last meal long forgotten as he pushes you further over the edge.

All at once, you see stars. You’re unsure whether you’re keeping quiet like he asked or sobbing loudly, the tidal wave of pleasure consumes you whole, stomach going taut and twisting as he allows you to ride out your orgasm. With the toy slowly edging you all night, this bliss feels fully merited— is exactly what you deserve after being subjected to his teasing for so long.

Shouto only lets up when your entire body has gone slack and you push his head away. Bringing his fingers up to your supple lips, he watches hungrily as you slurp at your own slick.

His eyes are the darkest you’ve ever seen them, pooling with eagerness and a longing for more; he brings a thumb to his chin to wipe at your juices— licks a long stripe up the digit to fully savor you. The image is immodest at the least, animalistic at most.

It reignites your own thirst immediately.

Though you’re exhausted, core spasming from overuse, you find yourself tugging at his waistband, pulling him close so he can sheath himself inside you in one fell thrust.

“Fuck,” his voice is husky, groan stifled in the nook of your shoulder. “Still so fucking tight for me.” The only sounds that fill the air are your joint moans, the squeaky springs of the mattress, and the headboard clanging against the wall— sweat soaked skin as his hips snap against you.

“Ah— please, please, please,” it seems to be the only phrase that falls from your loose lips. Every jerk sends shocks across your damp flesh, vision going foggy as he sends your brain spinning. Once again, you teeter at the edge, so close. Your legs wrap across his back, digging into the globes of his ass to pull him impossibly closer.

“What do you want?” He grunts into your jaw, peppering wet kisses down your neck and across your chest. It may leave a mark or two, but it’s something to worry about later.

“I–”At this point, you’re just a teary, blubbering mess, “please, Shou– need your cum.” You manage the words, knowing exactly what effect they have. His movements quicken, pace faltering as he chases his own high.

And then, you’re both seeing stars. With one final shudder, his cock twitches, and then he’s spilling into you. Your groans intertwine, his a loud sigh of your name, you sobbing helplessly.

Once he finally stills, he collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving. His fingers smooth at your matted hair, whispers of ‘so good for me’ and ‘fuck, baby’ into the shell of your ear as he allows your body— still trembling uncontrollably— time to regain composure.

Now you remember why you agreed to this little game of his.

–

“I hope you feel better,” Fuyumi hugs you goodbye, though your eyes are glazed over in post-coital bliss. Her gaze doesn’t quite meet your own, anyways. But they couldn’t have heard; you were quiet. Weren’t you?

As you stumble into the passenger side of Shouto’s pristine Model S, you catch the gruff comment Enji murmurs to Shouto,

“You two could stand to be a bit less obvious next time.”

#weese's birthday bash #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha smut #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #mha smut #shouto #shoto todoroki x reader #smut #tw: overstimulation

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yourlocalfictionalenthusiast · 3 years

Text

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART SIX

:Masterlist:

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, angst (sorry <3)

A/N: this was definitely meant to be posted like a week ago but here it is! <3

---

August 1994

The florescent lights of the hospital waiting room were starting to give you a headache.

They were way too bright and flickered every so often that it made you dizzy to look at them. But you needed something to focus on to stave off boredom, so you focused your attention on the clock on the wall.

It read just after midnight and you silently cursed yourself, quickly pulling out your flip phone and dialing your mom’s number.

She was probably asleep by now, but thinking about her possibly waiting up and worrying made your stomach turn. The line rang for a moment, but then the ending tone chirped and you were left with her answering machine.

“Hey, Mom. Uh, we had a little accident at practice. Luke was practicing his guitar throw and he kind of threw out his shoulder. I’m gonna drop him off at home and then I’ll probably just stay at the studio so I’m not biking home so late. Okay, love you. Bye.”

You hung up the phone and shoved it in your pocket just as Luke appeared from behind the door. The nurse said something to him that made his eyebrows furrow but he nodded. As you got closer, you realized that his right arm was wrapped in a sling.

“So, you’re not dying?” You joked.

“I might as well be.” Luke pouted, lacing his other arm through yours as you start to walk out of the building and into the parking lot. “They said I can’t play guitar for two weeks.”

You hummed sympathetically, knowing more than anyone how much that was going to drive him crazy. “This is what you get for trying to be all ‘Rockstar’”

“Excuse you.” Luke said. “I am a rockstar.”

“Uh-huh.” You sarcastically nodded.

“You’re a jerk.” Luke grumbled petulantly, resting his head on your shoulder. “Here I am, in unimaginable pain and you have no sympathy.”

“Here’s a tip for the future, if you want sympathy then don’t make me drive through Hollywood past midnight.” You teased, lightly shaking him to show that you weren’t actually serious.

“I’m still surprised that Bobby let you drive ‘Amber’.” He gestured to the car you were walking towards.

‘Amber’ was a present that Bobby had gotten for his birthday a few years earlier and it was his most prized possession. Normally, he never would’ve let you take it, but he didn’t feel like driving and taking Luke to the hospital in the basket on your bike seemed a little impractical. So he had handed over the keys reluctantly.

“You got something to say about my driving skills, Patterson?” You asked as you unlocked the car and settled into the driver's seat. Luke got comfortable in the passenger seat, and winced as he looked over at you.

“Don’t get me wrong, (Y/n). You are many things,” He said. “But a good driver isn’t one of them.”

You flipped him off as you started the car and started pulling out of the parking lot. It was quiet for a minute, but just as you turned back on the street, Luke turned on the radio and a familiar song filled your ears.

“Mmm, yeah!

Tonight, I want to give it all to you,”

“Oh no.” You laughed, knowing exactly what you were in for from the way that Luke’s eyes lit up. He grinned as he cranked up the volume and shifted in his seat as much as he could, ready to give you the performance of a lifetime.

‘In the darkness, there's so much I want to do

And tonight, I want to lay it at your feet

'Cause girl, I was made for you

And girl, you were made for me,’

You were trying your best to keep your eyes on the road, but it was hard when Luke was being so frustratingly cute.

His hair was still messy from rehearsal so it stuck up in different directions and he had a dorky smile on his face as he drummed his fingers against the center console. You pulled up to a red light and Luke looked at you expectantly.

You rolled your eyes, but gave in, taking one hand off the wheel to make a makeshift microphone. Luke grinned as you both began to sing.

‘I was made for lovin' you, baby

You were made for lovin' me

And I can't get enough of you, baby

Can you get enough of me?’

One song turned into two, then three, then before you knew it, you had pulled onto Luke's street.

Unlike the rest of the neighborhood, every light in the Patterson household was glowing bright yellow into the night and Luke let out a heavy sigh.

"Thanks for driving me." He said, his voice suddenly a little quiet. You looked up to the window to see the shadows of Luke's worried parents as they passed the curtains and suddenly the levity in the air was gone.

"Of course." You said.

You both knew what was about to happen.

Luke had told you all about the famous Emily Patterson meltdowns, and how they had been getting more and more frequent since he formed the band. Luke spraining his shoulder was only going to give his mom more reason to push Luke away from music.

From your music.

"Hey," You reached over and interlocked his pinky with yours, making Luke raise his eyes from his feet. "Don't let her get in your head, okay? Our music is important, and I know she'll realize that someday."

Luke’s eyes held yours for what seemed like an eternity before lightly squeezing his pinky around yours. “How do you always know what to say?”

You laughed. “’Cause I’m the greatest best friend ever.”

Luke smiled, his eyes slowly drifting from your still connected hands back up to your face. “Yeah, you are.”

The softness in his voice made your heart skip a beat. “I’m serious though. We’ll get into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame someday and you’ll prove her wrong.”

Luke learned a little closer, his voice practically a whisper, "Is this your way of admitting that I actually am a rockstar?"

"Oh, shut up." You groaned as you threw your head back. "You're the worst, you know that?"

"You love me." Luke retorted.

"Unfortunately." You deadpanned. "Now get out of the car, dork."

Luke fake pouted as he wiggled out of his seat and started walking towards the door, he gave you a quick grin and a wave before disappearing into his house.

Once he was out of sight, you let out a sigh and leaned back against the seats, trying to remember the way his hand felt in yours.

---

2020

"(Y/n)! Where have you been?"

Alex demanded the second you stepped into the studio, a worried expression on his face. As soon as you left the diner so late, you knew that a lecture from Alex was coming.

"I’m sorry, Al." You said. "I just lost track of time."

"Were you with that guy from the diner?" He asked, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow.

"Someone's in trouble." Reggie loudly whispered to Luke who was next to him on the couch. Just like usual, Luke barely spared you a glance before he glued his eyes back to his songbook.

"I don’t think you have any room to be teasing anyone about cute ghost boys.” You said, mirroring his position. “How was your afternoon with Willie?”

Across the room, you could’ve sworn Luke’s writing got heavier against the page. But when you looked over at him, he gave no other indication he was paying attention.

“Don’t change the subject,” Alex's cheeks turned a little pink but he stood his ground. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

“Hey,” You walked up and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry I made you worry. But you don’t have to. I’m good.”

“Of course I’m gonna worry.” Alex said, finally dropping his grumpy face and nudging you. “What else are best friends for?”

This time it wasn’t your imagination, Luke’s writing was definitely getting harder, enough to where it was going to rip a hole in the paper. Reggie and Alex noticed this time too and you all exchanged confused looks but before anyone could say anything, Luke jumped up from the couch.

“So! We should get working on this song.” He puts the page on the piano for you all to read. “I could use your help on the bridge, (Y/n).”

Alex shot you one last confused look and you shrugged before shifting your focus to the song. It was mostly finished, and with Julie’s poem as a guide for the lyrics, you were confident that it would be one your best songs yet.

Next to you, Luke scanned the page with the edge of his pencil, pointing at things he wanted your opinion on. Even with all the tension surrounding the two of you lately, it was nice to know that you were still a great team when it came to music.

---

For someone who learned that ghosts exist, that four of them from the 90′s were living in her best friends garage, and that they were all in a band together in one afternoon,

Flynn took the news surprisingly well.

Which meant that once Julie agreed to join the band, Flynn immediately started coming up with T-shirt ideas and new band names. You weren’t surprised at all when Julie announced that Flynn had booked a gig at the school dance a few days later.

You had all decided on the setlist that morning and had been practicing all day. Which meant by mid-afternoon, you had everything memorized. Since it was the first performance with Julie as a part of the band, you figured that letting her take the lead with vocals would be a good idea.

During the second break of the day, Luke and Reggie were messing around up in the loft, leaving you and Julie with nothing to do. So she offered to teach you a little about piano. It was a slow-going process but you were slowly getting the hang of it. "Okay, so, like this?"

Julie watched carefully as your hand flew across the keys. You miraculously played all the right notes to the song that Julie had taught you over the past half-hour and she beamed.

“Yeah! That’s perfect!” She said, “Play it again.”

Your finger was about to press down on the key, but then Alex phased through the doors. Ever since yesterday, you had been waiting for a moment to tease him about Willie. It was only fair since he just grilled you about being out all day.

“Hey, Al.” You greeted as you stepped away from the keyboard and wiggled your eyebrows at him. “And just where have you been?”

“Yeah, man, we gotta start practicing.” Luke said.

“For what?” Alex asked just as Flynn came strutting into the room. You noticed the colorful paper in her hand and nodded your head toward it with a grin.

“For that.”

Flynn set the paper down on the keyboard to Julie to see.

Alex whined as he looked it over. “Aw, man. We’re playing a dance?”

“Yeah, it’s how you build a following these days.” Luke said as he plopped down into a chair.

“Yeah, get with the program, Alex.” Julie said and Luke laughed.

The sound drew your eyes to his face and you can’t help but stare at him as you tried to remember the last time you and Luke had joked around like that. It used to come so naturally, but now even just being around Luke felt like a ticking time bomb of awkwardness.

Luke’s eyes flitted up to yours for just a second and for the next few moments you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing.

Flynn shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts. “The band is here?”

She then proceeds to wave to the wrong side of the room and you laughed as Julie gestured towards where you all were actually sitting. You all still waved back despite knowing she couldn’t see you.

“Okay, so now that Alex has graced us with his presence, we should get back to rehearsing.” Luke said and everyone nodded in agreement.

But before any of you could move, Carlos strolled in. “Hey, Julie, remember those orbs from dad’s pictures? I think they’re ghosts.”

Julie’s eyes went wide as she looked at the photos Carlos set on the keyboard right in front of her. She looked back and forth between all of you as Carlos rambled on.

“But don’t worry.” He said as he spun in a circle. “This room is clean, I’m not getting any ghost vibes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Carlos was exactly what you always pictured a little brother would be like. You had always wanted a sibling, but the closest you ever got was Reggie.

“If they come back, I’ll protect you.” Carlos puffed out his chest a little. “Because I’m the man of the house.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t dad supposed to be the man of the house?”

“There can be two.” He said as he pulled a salt shaker out of his pocket. “According to the internet, salt burns out their souls.”

Your eyes all got wide and you backed up until you were almost against the wall. Reggie and Luke both yelped and jumped up as Carlos spun in another circle. Alex screamed as salt went right through his torso, but he straightened a second later with a sheepish smile.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re such a drama queen.” You snort as Alex flipped you off. Julie nodded at Flynn to distract Carlos and she led him out through the doors and back up to the house.

Once they had left, you turned to Julie with an excited smile. "Wait, before we start, I wanted to show you some old Sunset Curve songs."

"Ooh, okay!”

Luke opened his songbook and a page quickly fell out. You instantly recognized the cramped but neat handwriting and laughed at Reggie. "'Home Is Where My Horse Is'? Again, Reg?"

Reggie beamed. "It's a gift."

"Thanks, Buddy." Luke patted his shoulder before opening his songbook to a page in the middle and laying it across the piano for Julie to see. 'I think you’d kill this one."

Julie’s eyes scanned the page for a moment before flipping through the book. "Who's Emily?"

The color drained out of Luke's face as he scrambled for the journal. But Julie kept it just out of his reach. "And this another one, 'She Is Love’? Who knew you were such a romantic?"

You shared confused looks with Alex and Reggie. Of course, you all knew about ‘Unsaid Emily’. Luke always eagerly shared every part of his music with the band, even if it was just a few scribbled lines or a riff he thought of off the top of his head.

But it was clear from the guy’s faces that none of you had ever heard this song. Luke writing a love song was weird in itself, but him not telling anyone about it was even weirder.

"It's just something I tried." Luke said, a faint blush on his cheeks. "But you should flip to the next one. It's got a killer beat."

He played one of the first songs you had ever written for Sunset Curve 'Last Place' and Julie nodded along with a confused look. "So you wanna use a sample?"

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Sample someone else's music." She explained. "I've heard that riff a million times. It's a classic Trevor Wilson song."

"Who?"

With a couple of clicks on her computer, Julie pulled up a picture of a middle aged guy leaning up against a guitar and your head started spinning.

"Guys, is that...?" You trailed off, hoping that you were wrong.

"It's Bobby." Luke finished.

"Seriously? I just told you his name is Trevor." Julie said.

Alex ran his hands through his hair, a slight scowl settling on his face. "Okay well then he changed it. That's definitely Bobby, he was our rhythm guitarist."

"He looks so old." You said, resisting the urge to reach out and poke the screen.

"He looks like a substitute teacher." Alex added, producing a slight chuckle from Reggie.

"Julie, what were his other songs?" You asked. You had a feeling the bad news was only beginning.

"'Get Lost'." She said and your heart sank even further.

"I wrote that." Luke said as he tugged his strap over his head. You could tell he was getting angry beneath his calm exterior, and the same feelings were rising up inside you as Julie went on.

"’Long Weekend'?' She continued.

"That one too." Reggie said. "It took (Y/n) and Luke like a month to finish."

"This is freaking me out!" Julie rubbed her temples. "This whole time I thought you were connected to my mom. But you're actually connected to Carrie's dad?"

"Add it to our list of questions." Alex sighed, his leg bouncing as he sat in front of his drum set.

“We used to talk about music all the time.” Julie said sadly. “He never mentioned you guys.”

"Of course not." You scoffed and Luke walked across the room and threw a dart at the board with enough force to put a hole in the wall. “He takes all the credit and doesn’t even mention us.”

“And he’s rich.” Julie flipped her computer screen around to show a photo of a huge mansion. “He has his own helicopter.”

Luke abandons the darts and makes his way over to the screen as Alex jumps up. “Man, we live in a garage!”

“It’s not about the money.” Luke huffed. “It’s about the music!”

Reggie whined. “It’s a little bit about the money.”

“A little about the money.” Alex emphasized.

“He could have at least shared it with our families.” You said, thinking about your mom and how she used to work extra shifts to take care of the both of you.

Reggie nodded in agreement. “Then maybe my parent’s house wouldn’t have gotten turned into a bike shack.”

Luke took a deep breath. ”What he did was steal our legacy.”

There was a moment of tense silence before he spoke up again.

“Where does he live?”

Julie hesitated. It was clear that all of you were angry, but Luke was on another level. His music was everything to him and being betrayed by Bobby was clearly getting under his skin. You gave her a pleading look and she sighed.

“Above the beach in Malibu.”

Luke glanced at the three of you, asking a silent question. You all nodded and Luke threw on his jacket, a look of determination on his face. “Let’s go teach him a lesson.”

Julie got up from the bench and tried to protest, but you all phased away.

As you walked into the front door of the mansion, a million memories raced through your head.

Of days when the five of you would go down to the pier or the park and play for hours, or take a drive around the city in Bobby’s car and talk about being famous one day. You used to joke about someone breaking off and starting a solo career, never actually thinking it would happen.

But clearly Bobby took it a little too seriously.

You and Alex walked to one side of the house while Luke and Reggie searched the other side. Every wall you could see was covered in awards and photos of his performances along with a giant portrait of his face right above the living room. From a little further down the hall, Alex shouted your name and you walked over to see him pointing at a display of shiny silver records.

“Have you seen these records? They’re Platinum.” He said.

“Platinum?” You repeated in disbelief. You ran your hands along the frame and were shocked that you could actually touch it. Across the room, Luke grumbled.

“He recorded ‘My Name Is Luke’.” He said. “My name is Luke!”

Suddenly, you heard the front door open and Bobby walked in.

“There he is!” Reggie called and you all turned to face him as he walked up the stairs. You snorted at his outfit choice and Reggie scoffed, clearly thinking the same thing. “He wears sunglasses indoors.”

Luke and Reggie started bouncing up the stairs after him but you and Alex hung back.

“Wait!” Alex called. “You know, It’s my first time haunting someone. I want it to be special.”

You stifled a laugh as Luke and Reggie exchanged confused looks before continuing up the stairs.

“I made that weird, didn’t I?” Alex cringed and you patted his shoulder.

“Definitely.” You laughed as you nudged him forward. “Come on.”

You reached the top of the stairs just as Reggie and Luke phased through a door at the end of the hall. Alex was quick to follow but you found yourself stopped in front of what you assumed was Bobby’s office.

It was a huge room with expensive guitars and fancy furniture. It looked like every other room in the house, but for some reason, you felt like you needed to look in there.

Alex noticed your hesitation and frowned. “You coming?”

“I think I’m gonna look around a little more.” You said.

“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow and you nodded.

Once he was gone, you walked into the room and spun around, taking in the sight of even more awards lining the walls. Your blood boiled thinking about all the hours you had spent writing them only for Bobby to take the credit.

You crossed to the desk to find the bottom drawer cracked open. You tried not to open it, but your curiosity won out. It slid open and you saw that it was completely empty except for an old shoebox that was pushed all the way to the back.

The lid was covered with a thin layer of dust like it hadn’t been opened for ages. It took a minute of pulling, but you finally got the lid off and peered inside.

The first thing you saw was a guitar strap. It was black with white skulls and flowers lining the sides. You recognized it instantly as the one Alex got Bobby for his 17th birthday.

The second was a picture of Sunset Curve playing at the winter formal freshman year. You cringed while looking back at your questionable fashion choices, but the memory still brought a smile to your face.

Finally, there were a few picks spread out across the bottom of the box, and a faded napkin from the diner.

A wave of confusion and regret washed over you.

So Bobby hadn’t forgotten about all of you.

Maybe he was a music-stealing weasel that you wished you could deck in the nose. But why would he keep all of this stuff if he still didn’t care deep down? If that seemingly always grumpy but secretly dorky boy you had known wasn’t still in there somewhere?

Suddenly, you heard screaming down the hall and you quickly closed the drawer before following the noise. It led to the bathroom door, where Luke and Reggie leaned up against the wall as Alex held the door shut. Then he backed up and the door swung open.

Bobby stumbled out with a terrified look on his face, running down the stairs while he mumbled to himself. The boys laughed and high-fived, grinning at you before phasing out again. You groaned and started walking downstairs where Flynn was sitting on the couch rambling to Carrie as Julie snuck into the backyard.

You followed Julie cautiously, knowing that she would probably be mad at you for leaving earlier. When you walked through the screen door and heard her start to lecture the boys, you knew you were right.

“So, did you guys have fun?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“You would do the same if he stole your music.” Luke said defensively.

“But you guys have new music with me.” Julie added. “And the best way to get back at him is for this band to do great. First we have to play dances, then clubs.”

“Then tours. I know.” Luke said and Julie sighed.

“I’ll see you guys at the school. We go on at 9:00.” She frowned. “Please don’t be late.”

“We’ll be there.” Alex said reassuringly. “Don’t worry.”

Julie turned and walked back through the screen door, giving you a tight-lipped smile as she passed.

“I don’t care what Julie says. I’m glad we scared Bobby.” Reggie said as he glared up at the mansion.

“I mean, maybe it was a little harsh.” You said and all of them stared at you in disbelief.

“Harsh?” Luke sputtered, like he couldn’t believe that just came out of your mouth.

“I found some stuff upstairs.” You tried to explain.

“What kind of stuff?” Reggie asked.

“The picture of us playing back in freshman year, some of our old picks, his old guitar strap.” You said, but the boys didn’t look convinced. “Guys, Bobby was our friend. We shouldn’t forget that.”

Alex and Reggie looked a little conflicted, but Luke didn’t budge. “How are you so cool with this?”

“I’m not!” You sighed, talking a little louder than you meant to. “God, of course I’m not okay with it, Luke. I put just as much of myself in those songs as you did. But I think we’ve done enough. Besides, it's not like we can even confront him anyway.”

“Maybe we can.” Alex said and you all turned to look at him. “I mean, Willie knows a lot about ghost stuff. Maybe he knows a way we could talk to him.”

“Let’s go find out.” Luke smiled mischievously.

You frowned but nodded. “You guys go. I’ll meet you at the dance.”

“(Y/n)-” Luke started but you had already disappeared in a flash of bright white.

If there was anything you didn’t miss about being alive, it was school dances.

You were always wrapped up in work or band stuff to be able to go, let alone ask anyone to be your date. Playing at the freshman winter formal was the first and only time you had ever set foot in a dance until tonight.

Your eyes scanned the gym in awe as you followed Julie through the dancing crowd. There were bright lights and balloons everywhere. There were a few kids dancing but it wasn’t very crowded, but it was still early and you hoped more people would be there to see you perform.

Once you and Julie reached the stage, Flynn grinned from behind her DJ booth and gestured to the backstage area. Julie fiddled with the bottom of her shirt nervously as you both walked behind the curtain.

Flynn gave Julie a hug and you laughed as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Are they here?”

“(Y/n) is.” Julie explained and Flynn waved in your general direction in response. “The boys will be here later. At least I hope.”

“I’m sure they will be.” You tried to reassure her. “They know how important this is.”

Flynn nudged Julie’s shoulder with a grin. “Well, let’s get your stuff set up then.”

By the time 11:00 rolled around, you were ready to track the boys down and kill them again.

The dance floor was twice as crowded as it was when you got there, and everyone was impatiently waiting for the main performance. You knew that wherever the boys were, they must’ve just lost track of time and didn’t know they were late. But that didn’t stop you from being angry. Especially when you saw the look on Julie’s face.

“Hey,” You sat on the floor next to her while she stared sadly at the projector. “I’m sorry they’re not here.”

Julie just shrugged. “I was really looking forward to playing tonight.”

Your eyes drifted to the crowd, then to the projector, then to Flynn and you got an idea. “Maybe we still can.”

She furrowed her eyebrows but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“We can perform the songs. Just the two of us.” You started. “Flynn can play some backing tracks and we can still rock this place!”

Julie looked nervous and a little hesitant but she called for Flynn and the girl raced over immediately. She explained the plan quickly and Flynn grinned in approval and assured you that she would take care of the backup music.

A pit of butterflies opened in your stomach. You hadn’t performed without the boys for years, but with Julie to lean on, you were fairly confident that you could get through it without throwing up.

You went on with Julie as planned, pushing thoughts about what the boys must be doing off to the side so you could focus on the performance at hand. It wasn’t quite the same, but it didn’t seem like the audience could tell. You belted your hearts out as they danced along, and both yours and Julie’s nerves disappeared as you got lost in the music.

It ended with a thunderous round of applause and you and Julie taking a bow at center stage. You took your cue to phase away and there was another wave of cheering as Julie waved and joined you in the backstage area.

As the crowd of students began making their way home and the stage was being torn down, you sat on the gym floor beneath a colorful balloon arch with Julie. Flynn had made her way to the cafeteria, taking advantage of the fact that there were no adults to stop her.

You watched the last few students leave, including the blonde boy you’d noticed staring at Julie all night. You turned to her with a playful smile.

"So? When were you going to tell me about the cute boy who obviously likes you?" You teased and Julie sighed.

"Nick is Carrie's boyfriend." She said as her eyes drifted across the empty room and you smiled sympathetically. She elbowed the air next to your ribs, "When were you going to tell me about Luke?"

"What about Luke?" You asked, trying not to blush.

"Don't play dumb, (Y/n)." Julie smirked. "It's obvious."

You groaned, falling onto your back against the floor and Julie laughed. "How obvious?"

"(Y/n), you wear his jacket like everyday, and that song in his journal was one hundred percent about you." Julie laid down beside you.

You snapped your head sideways and Julie laughed again at your shocked expression. "What?"

"Come on." She said. "Who else could that be about?"

You thought back to earlier, when Luke looked like a deer in headlights as Julie read the title out loud.. But you knew there was no way that it was about you. I mean, Luke never exactly had a shortage of girls that wanted his attention.

Just as you were about to point this out to Julie, there was a series of bright lights and Alex, Luke and Reggie appeared in front of you. You and Julie stood up, wearing identical glares, the anger you both felt earlier returning in full force. But before you could say a word, Luke launched into an apology.

“We are so sorry that we bailed on you guys.”

“The night just got away from us.” Alex added, looking everywhere but your face.

“It was about Carrie’s dad, wasn’t it?” Julie asked and when none of the boys answered, she scoffed. “You know what? Save it. Bands don’t do this to each other, friends don’t do this to each other. This whole thing was a mistake.”

“You mean the dance, right?” Luke asked hopefully and Julie shook her head.

“I meant joining a band with you guys.” She said, trying to keep a straight face. You could tell she was holding back tears as she ran out of the gym.

Once she was gone, you took a deep breath and faced them.

Alex immediately stepped forward, guilt etched on his face.”(Y/n), We’re so sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should worry about apologizing to.” You said, looking towards the doors where Julie left just a second ago. Alex followed your eyes and sighed, grabbing onto Reggie’s shoulder and steering him towards the door.

There was a moment of heaviness as you took another deep breath. You realized with a start that this was the first time you and Luke had been alone in months. Talking used to come so easily between the two of you, but now you found yourself struggling to find your words.

“We really are sorry, (Y/n).” Luke said quietly. “We didn’t mean to hurt Julie. Or you.”

You scoffed, kicking your foot against the linoleum of the gym floor, “But you did, and for what? A chance for revenge?”

“No! Well, yeah. But there was something else that happened. You won’t believe-”

“What could’ve been more important than being here?” You asked, cutting him off. You forced yourself to look up and found him looking back at you intently.

“If you just let me explain, I promise I would never purposely leave you hanging.”

“But you have been leaving me hanging, Luke!” You fired back, your voice nearly echoing in the empty room. The second the words left your mouth, you felt nauseous. After months of keeping those words on the tip of your tongue, you had expected saying them to feel better.

Luke winced at your words, but kept your gaze, “Hey, I know I’ve been..” He paused, knitting his eyebrows together, “distracted”.

“That’s one word for it.” You said and Luke took a cautious step closer.

“It’s just that everything has changed so much.” He said, and for the first time tonight, he looked away, “Even before we died.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off, seemingly unable to stop rambling.

“It’s like there’s so many things I’ve been trying to say, but I can’t make the words come out. And it all gets so tangled up in my head and I just end up saying nothing.”

You could see him getting more frustrated as he continued on. “I’m sorry for everything. For being late, for being such a shitty friend and being so far away lately. I just-”

He took another step forward, eyes never leaving your face. “I’m just afraid of losing everything.”

There was an edge to his voice, like it was hard for him to get the words out. As he inched a little closer, you reached out your hand, fingers inches away from his when suddenly he jumped back. A purple shock flashing in the middle of his chest.

Luke fell to the ground, groaning as he clutched his side. You crouched next to him and his eyes fluttered open slowly. “Ow.”

“What the hell was that?” You asked and Luke sat up.

“I don’t know.” He said, rolling his shoulders, “That’s never happened to me before.”

Suddenly, Alex and Reggie phased back into the gym, both of them looking just as shocked.

“Guys, something so weird just happened.” Reggie exclaimed. Alex took in the sight of you and Luke sitting so close to each other and cleared his throat.

“Should we come back later?”

You glared at him. “Let me guess, you guys also got shocked with creepy purple magic?”

“How’d you know?” Reggie asked, wide-eyed.

Alex sighed at him before he turned back to you. “We definitely need to figure out what the hell just happened.”

“Yeah, let’s go home.” You said and Luke cleared his throat, staring at Alex and Reggie.

“Uh, you guys go. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Alex gave you a questioning look and you nodded, and with another flash, they phased out.

It was quiet for a minute as you both processed everything that just happened. You and Luke hadn’t had a fight like that since you were kids, and that was the most he had said to you in over half a year. Your head was spinning with all the change.

Luke rubbed the back of his neck and you could almost feel how nervous he was. “So..”

“So…” You repeated.

Luke turned a little more towards you and quickly wrapped his pinky around yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze as he smiled.

“Truce?” Luke asked.

You nodded, smiling as you squeezed back. “Truce.”

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @charliegillespiewife @merceret @itismeasmolpotato @lilostif16 @dangerouslyclose @iainttakingshitfromnobody @givemebooksorgivemedeath @sunsetcurvedotmp3 @askgeoff @mayleenicole5676 @puppy11148

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13

Let me know if you want to be added!

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #Reggie Peters #Alex Mercer #julie molina #jatp fanfic

97 notes · View notes

roanniom · 3 years

Note

Requests just in time for Valentine’s Day! 💘

I’d like to request a Valentine’s Day to remember with Clyde, please. Thank you for doing requests again!

Sure thing, anon <3

Deserving

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 3,388

Note: This serves as Part 2 for what I’m now calling Hello Darlin’, a Clyde and Darlin’!Reader series that began with First Conversation Jitters.

Read Part 1 Here

Warnings: NSFW, phone sex, masturbation (f/m), unprotected PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving)

You run your finger over the rim of your lemon water as you watch your bear of a man serve drinks with his sweet and steady charm. It’s the night before Valentine’s Day and he’d asked you to hang out at the Duck Tape during his bar tending shift, something you were more than happy to do. You’d camped out on the last stool on the right with a book, waiting for the moments between orders when Clyde would sail down to your corner of the bar and romance you.

It had been about a month or so since you had begun dating but everything still felt so new. When you’d walked away that first night after leaving your number on the napkin – a move you’d only ever seen in movies before – you had half worried that Clyde would be too nervous to call. And he was nervous, a fact he’d confided to you on the fourth date, the first night you two had spent together. As he held you in the dark, a finger tracing the line of your jaw, the slope of your neck, he’d muttered quiet words into your skin. They were vulnerable but hopeful. That was the thing that struck you most. The hope in his deep, drawling voice as he recounted the way that his heart had stopped when you’d answered the door earlier in your pretty dress. The way your laugh had soothed him instead of increasing his anxiety.

The timing of your courtship had not been ideal as the holidays had rolled in pretty rapidly after that, meaning you had a lot of prescheduled traveling to do. You’d bitten your tongue to refrain from inviting Clyde to Thanksgiving dinner, knowing he had a close family of his own and also knowing that the pressure of meeting yours might be too much to take so soon. Similarly, Christmas and New Years were a wash. You’d spent these days texting Clyde rapidly under the table, sending him sweet messages and well-wishes which he reciprocated to the best of his abilities – Clyde was not a great texter.

What he was good at, however, was talking on the phone. You waited all day every day of your holiday trips for the moment when you could steal away to your guest room in the evenings and wait for his call. It always came, and the deep, rumbling “Hello darlin’” was something that you realized quite quickly had emblazoned itself on the surface of your heart.

“Hiya, handsome,” you’d reply and he could always hear the smile in your voice. Sometimes you’d facetime, but often you would just stay up late with your phone pressed to your ear, whispering into the night. Because like that first night together when Clyde had been emboldened by the dark, Clyde was equally emboldened by the barrier of distance and technology. You weren’t sure if missing you had brought something out in him or just that with time he’d become more confident in your budding relationship. All you knew is that he was no longer holding back and you couldn’t be happier.

“I dreamt a’yer mouth last night, darlin’,” he’d told you on Christmas Eve after you already had caught up on what you both had done all day. His voice was quiet but sure as he said it. Not timid as you’d expect. Heat had immediately rushed to your core and you’d gotten comfortable on the bed, tucking the phone under your cheek on the pillow.

“And what exactly was my mouth doing in this dream of yours?”

“Lookin’ nice an’ pretty…” You were about to thank him but he surprised you by continuing. “…around my cock.”

“Clyde Logan, you dog!” you whisper back at him, trying to contain the excitement that bubbles up from the newness of being dirty on the phone with your sweet man.

“Lips all stretched ‘round me. Almost prettier than yer beautiful smile.”

“I wish I could have left you with memories of the real deal so you didn’t have to just dream about it,” you’d said wistfully, suddenly saddened by the distance between you and all you had yet to experience together.

“There’s plenty’a time fer that when ya get back,” he’d comforted you. “Don’t ya worry yer lil head about that.”

“Clyde?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can I give you a new memory right now?”

He’d been surprised to see you’d switched over to facetime but had been quick to accept the call. You still think sometimes about the expression on his face when you’d popped on the screen topless and touching yourself already. It was the face of a man who’d been granted a glimpse at heaven but still wasn’t sure of his worthiness.

You intended to prove to him just how worthy he was.

“Get nice and comfy – I want to cum while watching you stroke that beautiful cock, handsome.”

Clyde’s smile had been a mile wide as he’d dropped down on his bed to oblige you.

“Yes ma’am.”

By the time New Years eve rolled around, the two of you had become experts of how to drive the other crazy, often with words alone.

~*~

In the present it’s close to midnight when you glance up from your book again to find Clyde grabbing your empty water glass and bringing it to the sink. He’d gotten caught up with a particularly needy group of out of towners who’d required more service than the average customer. You didn’t mind. It had given you a chance to watch him in action from afar, taking in his large frame as he moved behind the bar. The small smile as he listened – really listened – to his customers. Every once in a while he’d looked up to catch you staring, shooting you a wink from across the way. It always sent the butterflies in your stomach into a flurry when he did that, especially in the bar which had been the setting of his first fumbling advances toward you. His growing confidence was sexy and though you were feisty and more than capable of taking care of him, it burned you up inside even more to know he was able to take care of you, too.

“Grab yer stuff, darlin’, we’re headin’ out,” Clyde says coming out from around the bar. Your eyes shoot to your watch.

“But last call isn’t for a few more hours!” Even as you say it you notice Earl take his place behind the bar, sending a wave your way. Clyde helps you into your coat and pulls you to the door as he explains.

“Earl’s got me covered. No need for m’girl to hang ‘round a seedy bar all night.” You laugh because it’s a regular occurrence for you to spend your nights there with him, but you play along while he helps you into his truck.

“My Prince Charming,” you coo. Clyde gives you a little bow before jogging over to get into the driver’s seat. He starts up the truck and immediately turns on the heat, watching you with a smile as you appreciatively warm your hands against the vent. You catch him watching you and suddenly get suspicious, narrowing your eyes with humor. “What are you looking at, Charming?”

“The most beautiful girl in West Virginia,” he says without missing a beat before shaking his head. “No – in the world.”

You laugh. It’s the full-bodied sound that he loves with his whole being.

“Now that might just be a bit of an exaggeration, Mr. Logan, but I think I’ll take it anyway.” You lean over the truck’s center console expectantly. Clyde leans forward immediately to oblige you with a kiss. His lips are soft and taste of lemon, or maybe those are your own lips, but either way, it’s warm and tangy and everything you’ve been waiting for all these hours at the bar. You try to deepen the kiss and are surprised to feel him pull away, your head moving forward to chase his lips when he breaks the contact.

“We’ve got somewhere to be, darlin’. You’re gonna make us late,” he chides you playfully, throwing the truck into gear and pulling out onto the dark road.

“Where could we possibly need to be? It’s almost midnight,” you reply, surprised.

“Exactly,” he says with a wide smile.

~*~

Clyde won’t let you look out the window as he approaches your destination. You tease him because it is night time in rural West Virginia and it’s not like you would be able to see anything through the darkened windows anyway, but you humor him by keeping your eyes squeezed shut. When the truck cranks to a stop he jumps out and makes his way to help you out, pulling you down with his metal hand and covering your face with his massive, warm flesh one. His prosthetic presses into your waist to guide you forward and you grin, happy about the contact.

“Am I allowing you to lure me deep into the woods, Mr. Logan?” you sing out, hearing him chuckle behind you.

“I’d say yer right on the money, sweetheart.”

“Trying to have your way with me, are you? Is that what Prince Charming would do?”

“If he had a girl as pretty as m’girl he sure would, you bet yer ass.” His hand abandons your face for a second to drop light little slap to your backside and you let out a laughing squeal, sure to keep your eyes closed of your own accord.

“No peakin’,” he says, quickly putting his hand back over your eyes.

“I didn’t! I wouldn’t – I’m a good girl,” you say, know the implications of the statement. You hear Clyde swallow thickly behind you. Bingo.

“Ya sure are, darlin’.”

Just as you’re about to ask if you’ve almost arrived wherever he’s taking you, Clyde pulls you to a stop. You feel him lean down low to meet your height, his chin dipping to rest on your shoulder, both his facial hair and his breath tickling your ear and making you shiver.

“Open yer eyes.”

You do as he says and immediately let out a gasp. In front of you lies a picnic blanket set up with a comfy assortment of pillows. The space is illuminated by a mix and match assortment of camping lanterns which cast a soft glow about the scene. A basket of fruit and cheese sits open beside a bottle of champagne that sits chilling in an ice bucket with two delicate glasses.

“Clyde!” You turn and throw yourself at the satisfied looking man behind you, curling around his body and kissing every part of him you can reach. His watch beeps and he looks at it with a broad grin on his face.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” He pulls you down to recline with him against the gathered pillows. You blink hard to hold back the tears that form unbidden.

“You planned all of this? For me?”

“Well I’ll be honest. Mellie and Jimmy helped,” he admits, running a hand up and down your back and pulling you into him to press a kiss to your forehead. “I had ‘em set all this up during my shift.”

It’s the most overtly romantic thing that anyone has ever done for you. You glance around and take in all of the details again, now with his warm skin under your fingers, his chest to your chest. It’s like something out of a romance novel, and you would know, you’ve sure read your fair share. Looking back down you see him watching you, registering each of your tiny reactions. He’s nervous, trying to make sure he’s pleased you. But he’s also hopeful. And that’s what breaks you.

Suddenly you launch yourself at him, pushing him down so that his back is pressed into the cushions and you are now straddling him. You pepper his face with kisses before arresting his mouth in a desperate lip lock. Though you are often the one who is chatty in the face of his pensive, thoughtful silence, you now find yourself at a loss for words. How do you tell him that you’re not used to being cared for in this way? How do you tell him that his sweetness sets your long-neglected soul on fire? That the string of meaningless relationships littering your past suddenly had meaning if only to lead you directly into his arms?

You don’t have the words to tell him these thoughts. So instead you tell him with your lips, your hands, your body. You run your hands down his t-shirt-clad chest, reveling in the thickness, the fullness of him, before drawing your hands down the length of his arms. You grab his wrists, sure to be gentle with his prosthetic, and urge them to settle above his head. It is only at this point that he resists, pulling out of a kiss.

“But darlin’…I need to touch you…” He’s breathless and you want to keep him like that forever. Keep his voice ragged and chest heaving so you can be his oxygen. Breathe life into him over and over.

“Let me do this, Clyde. My Valentine’s gift for my handsome man.” You grind down onto his hardening length at the end of your statement and his eyes roll back. When you feel him stop resisting the press of your hand on his wrists you know you’ve gotten him right where you want him.

You take your time. You kiss every inch of him over his clothes before crawling back on top to gyrate on his now straining member. His heavy breathing has made way for small, unabashed whimpers that are your new favorite sound. Clyde has been getting more dominant with you and you are excited to explore that new facet of your relationship. But for tonight you want to translate your emotions by riding him for all he’s worth.

After teasing him for long enough with your swiveling hips, you finally relent and pull his cock out of his dark jeans.

“Look at this beautiful cock. All hard and swollen just for me.” You double over to press a sweet kiss to his weeping tip.

“Only for m’girl,” Clyde nods feverishly below you. “Can ya…”

“What would you like, Clyde?” you ask, moving your hand steadily up and down his cock with languid strokes.

“Wanna be inside’a ya darlin’. Wanna feel if yer wet fer me.”

“Oh, baby…” you trail off and guide his cock to your pussy lips, your skirt long hiked up over your hips. You slide him up and down the seam of your opening, gathering your slick to coat him. He lets out a deep moan at the feeling. As you line him up you rake your nails over his soft belly with reverence. “You turn me on more than I’ve ever been turned on in my life.”

“Fuck,” comes Clyde’s muttered reply, his eyelids fluttering shut. You take this opportunity to lift up and then ease yourself down on him, letting his cock breach you with a slow ease. He’s large but you weren’t lying. You’re dripping for him, aching and desperate for the fullness that only he can provide you.

“Yer perfect. Feel so good,” Clyde forces out through clenched teeth.

You begin to ride him in earnest after you adjust more to his size, letting the muscles of your thighs propel you up and down to take him at an angle that causes you both to let out steady strings of moans. Clyde’s hips begin to work in tandem, thrusting up to meet you and making the slide of his cock through your pulsing walls that much more delicious. When a particularly good thrust topples you down to grip his shoulders, your breasts push down into his face, spilling from your bra cups and up through the wide neck of your shirt.

“Oh darlin’. Oh darlin’darlin’darlin’,” Clyde breathes out, straining his neck to push up into your cleavage. His flesh hand, which had up till now dutifully remained above his head, comes now to cup the side of your breast but you don’t have the presence of mind to reprimand him. You wouldn’t even if you did, his touch feels too good.

You gasp when he plants one foot flat on the ground for more leverage and spears up into you more aggressively than before. You shudder around him, cunt spasming on his cock with euphoric tension.

“Right there, baby?” he growls. He’s gazing up at you with a sweet intensity that you want to drink in forever, but the sensations in your cunt are overwhelming and it takes everything in you to simply nod. Your eyes screw up and your jaw drops, mouth forming a little “o” in response to another punishing thrust. Clyde chuckles below you. “Oh yeah. Right there.”

You cum shortly after but, as you had promised yourself silently the moment you had mounted him, you drag yourself down his body immediately, ignoring his groaning protests and gripping hand. When you take him in your mouth he’s already partially gone. He props himself up on his good elbow and alternates between gazing at you worshipfully and wincing in pleasure.

You suck on him, knowing how close he is and knowing he likes it when you get sloppy. He’d told you so over facetime on Christmas eve as you’d sucked on the fingers of one of your hands while riding and cumming on the other for him, your phone propped on the pillow. You gurgle as you take him deep into your throat, moaning around the fullness, the thickness of this perfect man below you. When you reach down to gently fondle his balls, Clyde lets out a deep-throated groan. His balls draw up from your hand and his hips pivot up, driving him deeper into you as he paints the inside of your throat with his cum. You welcome his orgasm, drinking him down until there’s no more, holding firmly at his hips as shudders wrack his body.

When you finally pull off to rock back on your heels you take in the sheer debauchery of this whole experience. Clyde lies sprawled out on the pillows below you, hand running through his sweaty hair, chest heaving, softening cock still poking out of his jeans. A giggle bubbles up from inside you and you let him pull you down where he silences you with a hard kiss as deep as the rumbling of his satisfied groan.

After a few seconds he rolls you so that you both are on your sides and he’s quick to bury his face in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. His customary place immediately following an act of intimacy. You’ve learned to recognize this and you don’t push him. Instead you welcome the tight clutch of this, the largest yet kindest man you’ve ever met, dragging your fingers up an down his cheek in a light caress. Moments pass in silence, save for your slowing breaths, until he speaks up, words muffled by the way he whispers them into your neck.

“Yer too good fer me, y’know.” He says it as a statement, not a question. There’s a weariness in his voice that doesn’t stem from how hard he’s just cum. Only now do you grip his jaw lightly, coaxing him from his hiding place against your flesh. You look him in the eyes, though he tries to avoid you. Instead you hold his gaze, finger swiping along his jaw. He sighs and adds. “I don’t deserve someone like you, darlin’.”

It’s your time to silence him with a kiss, but this time you don’t let actions do the talking. Clyde needed to hear you say the words that your clenching heart beats out, like some anatomical morse code. You grip his jaw tight and speak loud and clear.

“You deserve the world, Clyde.” His eyes melt, soft and full of adoration. You press a kiss to his forehead, one to each cheek, and then a chaste one on his lips before finishing. “And I’m going to give it to you.”

You may have spent the first three holidays of your relationship apart, but this Valentine’s Day you spent together in every way that mattered – mind, body, and soul.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess

#anon #request #Clyde Logan x reader #Clyde Logan x you #Clyde Logan/reader #Clyde Logan/you #Clyde Logan smut #Logan Lucky fanfiction #Logan Lucky smut #cw: unprotected sex #tw: unprotected sex #smut #writing #Roanniom #Hello Darlin' fanfiction

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justimajin · 3 years

Text

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.10 [M]

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

↳ (4.2k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating: unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, body insecurity (result of physical markings), slight body worship, hints of sexual tension

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

➟ Last Update: Friday, February 19

The moment your eyes catch onto a patch of black hair within the crowd, you freeze in place.

Jung Hoseok appears just as you remember him. Lips tugged up into a playful smile, mischief dancing in his eyes and adorned in a black suit that easily conceals away any weaponry he stows away. Despite his traits, the sleek material fails to hide the circles lining his twinkling eyes, his posture sunken and suit appearing oversized as if he had lost some weight with time.

You decipher his appearance within seconds, and when your observant eyes snap over to Namjoon, you already know he’s done the same.

The two of you stay stationed in the corner, afar from the crowd. Jimin stands off to the corner opposite you as Seokjin darts his eyes around, taking careful steps towards the shareholder before he decides to engage with him.

There’s a whimsical expression on Seokjin’s features that mimics Hoseok, hands curved around a glass of champagne that he raises.

“Jung Hoseok.” He counters, “I haven’t seen you around in quite some time.”

Hoseok turns, a crease in between the brows from the sudden call of his name, but once his eyes come into contact with Seokjin’s, his regular demeanor shifts back.

“Since you know my name along with my record, why don’t you tell me where you know me from?”

Seokjin smiles, “You’re one of Kim Namjoon’s shareholders, right?”

There’s a glint in Hoseok’s eyes and his grin immediately falls, something that has Seokjin’s eyes narrowing, before it abruptly returns.

“I am.”

Seokjin hums, “It was just a question, no need to get so surprised.” He leans forward, eyes hardening as his voice drops into a whisper, “Unless, there is some reason for you to be….”

Hoseok grits his teeth, looking away for a moment. His disdain is heavy and he glares at Seokjin, who slyly smiles back.

“What do you know?”

A light chuckle leaves Seokjin, “I think the question you should be asking is, what do I not know?”

He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit, revealing a creased piece of paper that he hands to Hoseok. The latter tilts his head, unfolding the sheet that reveals a photograph.

Hoseok’s eyes widen, “If you need to recall the memory, his name is Kim Minhyuk.” Seokjin sips his champagne as he whispers, eyeing the shareholder, “Strange for someone of your status to be interacting with someone that has been known to get his hands dirty for the right price, don’t you think?”

The paper is instantly crumbled within his hands, and Hoseok snarls at him, “How much?”

Seokjin glances at him intrigued, “What? Money?” He snorts, “Oh, it’s going to take much more to silence me.”

Hoseok fists up his jacket, “Listen here‒”

“I wouldn’t ruin the suit, it was fairly costly for what it was worth.” Seokjin gestures to his hold and Hoseok let's go in annoyance.

“Who are you working for?”

A smirk spreads across Seokjin’s features.

“Turn around.”

The sound of a deep voice from behind Hoseok startles him, and as he does as he’s told, all the colour instantly drains from his features.

Namjoon tilts his head to the side, piercing eyes scrutinizing the shareholder.

Immediately, an excuse tumbles out. “N-Namjoon! I-I didn’t think you would be here….”

“Of course you didn’t,” He smirks, “I’m alive after all.”

If Hoseok was scared before, he was downright terrified now.

Namjoon steps forward, and Hoseok bolts.

Seokjin whips his head around and Jimin immediately leaves his corner, running after him. Hoseok pushes past protesting guests without any qualms, sprinting into one of the hallways as Jimin pursues him.

“This way!” Jimin hastily shouts. His brows suddenly contort with surprise, but then he curses underneath his breath as Hoseok slips from his sight, completely disappearing.

Namjoon hurriedly rushes forward a bit late, peering in both directions.

“Where is he?” Seokjin wonders and Jimin rubs his temples, squinting in the direction.

“There was a woman.” He abruptly whispers, glancing at the two, “I saw them together before her and Hoseok split apart into different paths.”

“A woman?” Seokjin wonders.

“I know.” Jimin muses, “She looked young, but I wasn’t too sure.”

“So he wasn’t choosing to run away, but instead ran to someone…” Seokjin slowly utters, shaking his head, “Whatever it is, we have to find him.”

“Don’t worry.” Namjoon states, a twinkle in his dark eyes, “He won’t get too far.”

***

Hoseok runs as fast as he can, sweat beginning to trickle down his features. He peers behind himself, acclaiming himself of at least getting away in time.

Abruptly, he’s sent flying towards the ground. His hands barely break his fall, harshly slamming right against it.

The sound of a trigger cocking alerts him, and right as he glances up, the sight of a gun pointed towards his head.

You stare down at him with a triumphant expression.

Hoseok grits his teeth, a sound of dismay leaving him. You reach down, grabbing onto his hands before securing them behind his back.

You soon catch sight of Seokjin from afar and you usher towards him as Namjoon and Jimin follow behind.

As Seokjin helps you lift him from the ground, his eyes are frantically darting around, as if searching for something.

“What wrong?” Seokjin wonders, “Lose something?”

Hoseok sneers, “Like I’ll tell you anything.”

Seokjin smiles, tightening his hold, “We’ll see how long you can keep that up.”

Night falls as Namjoon paces back and forth in the hallway, fiddling around with the hem of his sleeve. The door to his right abruptly widens, a tired Seokjin emerging out.

He instantly steps forward and Seokjin sighs, “He kept true to his word.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, “He’s not talking?”

Seokjin hums, “A lot more stubborn than I gave him credit for.” He gestures towards the door, “Jimin’s still there with hopes of getting something out, but he’s holding onto everything as if his life is on the line.”

“That’s odd,” He whispers, “If being threatened to force out information isn’t horrible enough, I wonder what is…”

“I agree, it seemed like he had a lot to tell me before, but now…” Seokjin shakes his head, “Maybe he thinks we’ll hesitate in killing him.”

There’s a sharp glint in Namjoon’s eyes, “Have you told him otherwise?”

Seokjin snorts, “No, but he isn’t wrong.” He adds, “We do need him to tell us about his connections.”

Namjoon hums and the door cranks open again as Jimin emerges out. Both him and Seokjin turn at the same time, glancing at the man’s distressed appearance.

“Nothing so far,” He huffs for a moment, before staring at the two of them peculiarly, “But he said one thing that’s been bothering me a lot.”

“What?” Seokjin wonders.

Jimin stands up straighter, bafflement crossing him.

“He said we’re fools for thinking that he’s the one pulling the strings.”

Seokjin scrunches up his nose and Namjoon cocks his head to the side, clearly as perplexed as Jimin from the saying.

“That’s it?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin sighs, “That’s it.”

“Well, this just got a lot more damn complicated.” Seokjin shakes his head, before gesturing to Jimin, “Take a break, I’ll have to spend a couple more hours with him to get something else out.”

Jimin nods, fatigued from the demanding interactions.

Once Jimin leaves, Namjoon’s voice drops into a whisper, “We’re fools for thinking he’s the one pulling the strings….”

Seokjin narrows his eyes and lets out a sigh, mind still swimming with the response. “As if suggesting that he’s innocent….”

“Maybe it's the woman.” Namjoon’s eyes snap up as Seokjin reminds him, “Hoseok’s first instinct was to run to her.”

He nods, “Though I don’t think we can trust him on this, he could be trying to cover himself up. Or someone else, for that matter.”

Namjoon hums, fingers pressed against his lips as he dwells deeper into thought. Seokjin leans over, patting his back and his eyes peer up at him.

“Why don’t you go get some rest? This whole fiasco won’t be figured out until he talks and that...might take a while.”

He gestures to the gun sticking out from his jacket and Namjoon lets out a frustrated sigh from the notion.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He wonders.

Seokjin softly shakes his head, “He’ll talk with the right persuasion, trust me. And besides….”

There’s a small smirk lingering on Seokjin’s lips, playfulness practically twinkling in his eyes. He points upward, gesturing to the upper floor.

“Y/N actually left a couple of minutes ago.”

At the mere mention of your name, there’s a flush that scatters over Namjoon, skin nearly akin to being feverish. Seokjin’s smile widens, restraining a small laugh that seeks to slip out of his mouth.

“I-Is that so?” Namjoon mumbles, his eyes darting everywhere. When they connect with Seokjin’s, he sheepishly laughs, “I, uh‒ suppose you’re right.”

Seokjin hums, but he can’t conceal the amused smile that crosses him.

Bidding his friend good luck, Namjoon gyrates around, promptly heading to his room as fast as he can.

***

Namjoon’s eyes are glued to the sight of the door.

He’s reached his room, pupils having traced the outlines and shape of the wood, handle practically right in front of him ‒ but he remains planted in place, as if someone had poured lead into his shoes.

His hand reaches up, rubbing against his temples as a sigh leaves him.

The last time you were in a room together he could barely control himself. And this time, standing right in front of your shared room’s door, he knows that control is on the edge of completely shattering.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he peers at the door again and takes a deep breath.

His hand reaches out for the handle.

He quietly walks in, hastily ensuring the door is fully closed before saying anything. Turning around, there’s a soft smile on his lips, warmth brimming in his eyes.

“Y/N, I‒”

His breath instantly hitches, form completely freezing.

Your startled eyes snap up in an instant. There’s drops of water falling from the strands of your hair onto the damp carpet, one of your hands resting against the wall next to a small door to your left. Your other hand is tightly fisting the material of the long towel that covers your form, struggling to keep it in place.

At the sight of Namjoon gawking, you fumble with your words, “N-Namjoon….I-I didn’t think you would be back s-so soon…”

A light chuckle leaves you, a fevernet shade of scarlet taking over your features. He continues to stare at you, and you break into a fit of rambles to explain the situation.

“I-I’ve been having a hard time bathing!” You laugh again, “So I tried to quickly wash up before bed, but it’s been difficult….moving around and whatnot…”

Your eyes are fixated on the ground, barely able to meet his own through your explanation. It feels like an eternity until Namjoon finally clears his throat, the sound of his footsteps growing louder.

He’s a mere inches away from you, outstretching his arm, “Let me help you.”

Nothing seems to leave your lips at the suggestion. You hastily nod, still unable to make eye contact as you reach out and grasp onto his sleeve. However the moment you do so, you unfortunately can’t stop to take notice of the way one of his hands slips behind you to steady your back.

A sudden rush of heat is brought upon on you and you internally curse yourself for being so flustered in his presence. On the other hand, Namjoon tenses when you lean against him, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

He gently guides you towards the bathroom again, carefully waiting as you struggle with the occasional steps and fumble around with the towel clinging to your body. Not paying enough attention to your surroundings results in you taking one step too close, nearly toppling down until a weight stops you.

Your eyes glance up in surprise at Namjoon, who managed to shift himself before you were sent smacking against the ground. You wouldn’t normally hesitate to thank him for the gesture, but his eyes immediately connect with yours and the words can’t seem to form anymore.

The warmth in his eyes disappears within seconds and is replaced with the carnal gaze you’ve become far too familiar with. You’re only a handful of inches away from him, his breath intermingling with yours the longer you stare at each other.

Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between you this time, arms looping around your waist in an instant.

A burst of electricity tingles through your skin, his soft lips molding ravenously against your own. You push back with just as much desire, fiercely kissing him as your hands fist the material of his jacket.

It’s not long before that jacket is being pushed off his shoulders completely and your back hits against the wall, a gasp escaping from your lips until his mouth crashes against yours, tongue slipping in within seconds.

A deep moan leaves Namjoon when you loop your arms around his neck, fingers weaving into the soft strands before tugging against them. You’re abruptly being lifted up from the waist, lips still connected to his until you’re suddenly falling down, hands finding purchase within the soft material of your bed.

Namjoon remains underneath you when you lean down to kiss him again, strands of your damp hair ticking his features and soaking through the fabric of his shirt. Your hands eagerly fumble around with his tie, growing exasperated within minutes when it refuses to come undone despite all your tugging. You can feel Namjoon smiling into your kiss, knowing that he’s holding back a laugh from your efforts.

A desperate whine leaves you and that’s when he makes the decision to halt his teasing, spinning you around so that he hovers above you. He roughly tugs at the material and the sound of a harsh snap leaves your eyes widening, before he leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips.

He aids you in hastily undoing his buttons, letting a chuckle slip out when an exhale of relief leaves you from the last one. The material easily slips off his shoulders and although you’re eager to finally have flesh, you have to try your hardest to control your gawking eyes.

To your complete surprise, your hands come into contact with muscle when you run your hands against him, noticing the bulkiness of his arms and chest. As if he knows he’s rendered you speechless, Namjoon coaxes your surprise by briefly connecting your lips, before descending to the juncture of your neck.

A mewl nearly leaves you at the hot open mouthed kisses he leaves behind, serving to stroke the heat that pools between your legs. When his thumbs begin to move against the rough material of your towel, his carnal eyes snap up to meet yours, silently asking for your wishes to continue.

Although you nervously bite down on your lip, you ultimately decide to answer him with a nod. With one flick of his wrist, the cloth is tossed onto the ground, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

At the sight of confusion spurring in Namjoon’s eyes, you sheepishly look away. You’re not completely sure of what he was expecting, but from the way his brows are drawn together and there’s a pang of hurt in his eyes, you can tell he’s at a loss for words.

Even though you know you’ve been through a lot, your body takes it sweet time to heal. There’s still a wound healing from the time you were shot from Taehyung and obscene injuries littering the entirety of your legs from the time you were kidnapped. It’s coupled with a handful of clumsily sewn together old bullet wounds, long having engraved themselves into your skin from the past.

Namjoon takes it in for a moment, but when you fidget underneath his gaze, he leans closer to you.

“No, don’t.” He stops your hand from sliding over, attempting to cover up a piece of reality you had become uncomfortably close to, “Please, don’t, I‒”

He softly smiles, leaning down to whisper to you, “You’re beautiful. You’re so, so beautiful.”

A smile cracks onto your lips and although you’re aware that he’s called you beautiful before, there’s something about the way he says it now that has your vision fogging. He presses his forehead against yours with a smile as you lightly laugh, pecking your lips hastily. Your body suddenly jolts in retaliation, eyes flickering over at him in astonishment.

He kisses against your legs, right where your prominent ones have recently surfaced, before he shifts to press his lips against all the other ones. It makes you squirmish within his hold, his touch bringing shivers down your spine.

Abruptly a sear of pleasure thrums through your body, vision going hazy. Namjoon’s hands roam around the swell of your breasts, before his fingers fondle the skin again and pinch against the eroding buds. You wither from his ministrations, sucking in a sharp inhale when he envelopes one of them within the heat of his mouth.

Bliss fills your veins, the gratifying sensation coiling need within the pit of your stomach and dampening your aching core. You shift against him, desperately needing some relief from the agonizing heat that only seems to grow.

“N-Namjoon...”

As if he already knows, his lips halt their ministrations before drawing all his attention to your seeping centre. His fingers are quick to swirl against the muscle, and when he notices you immediately shudder, he doesn’t hesitate to latch his mouth onto your clit.

“Oh my god‒” Your hands fervently grasp onto the bed sheets, eyes squeezing shut as he continues to circle his tongue against your sex. Moans are slipping out from your lips, your chest heaving as a sheen of sweat begins to cover you.

A sharp cry escapes you when he slips a finger into your heat, joining in with the rhythms of his mouth. Your thighs quiver against him as he adds another, abruptly curling up his digits in a way that completely blurs your vision and has his name tumbling from your lips.

The friction builds up until it’s too much, barely having the chance to tell him that you’re close to the brink of losing it all. The chord within you snaps before a wave of euphoria is washing over you, core pulsating and clenching around Namjoon’s fingers. Exhales are leaving you as your eyes focus back, your chest rising and falling.

You grimace as he slips his hand out, raising his head to softly brush his lips against yours. A content sigh leaves you, the taste of your residue lingering on his mouth.

Namjoon shifts for a moment, and from the corner of your eye you see him beginning to unbutton his trousers. He kicks the flimsy material away and settles himself between your thighs, his throbbing length pressing against your skin.

He rests his elbows on either side of you, his gaze intent as he pants, “Do you....do you want this?”

“Yes,” You breathe out, and Namjoon nods, before reaching down to align himself with your centre. His head probes at your opening for a moment, until he begins to push inside.

You immediately grip onto his shoulders, nails digging right in. Namjoon peers up at you in hesitation, but you shake your head and encourage him to continue.

He goes as slow as possible, the stretch eliciting beads of pain to shoot through you. When he bottoms out, you’re surprised you haven’t been split at the seams. He lets out a groan, eyes screwing shut as he rests his head against your neck.

Small huffs are leaving you as the pain contorts into something else, a scorching heat that only intensifies as your core clenches.

Your hands tighten around his shoulders, “Namjoon, move.”

He glances up in surprise, but doesn’t take long to fulfill your request. A sharp thrust has you gasping, grasping onto him as it contorts into a wanton moan. Your reaction urges him on more as he thrusts into you again, earning a breathy call of his name to slip from your lips.

Namjoon quickens his pace, before he’s slamming into you with as much vigor as he can. Your back is arching, attempting to meet the strong jerk is his hips half-way. His thrusts are a mixture of deep and aggressive, feverishly quenching the insatiable hunger that consumes you.

Your name falls from his lips when you begin to clench against him, and he instantly reaches towards where your bodies are connected, circling against the sensitive bud that draws tears to your eyes.

“Namjoon.” You choke out, pleasure threatening to eat you alive. Your pleas of his name are muffled by his lips, his thrusts and ministrations growing his strength. In the midst of this, he whispers against your mouth, your hazy eyes instantly connecting.

If it weren’t for the proximity, you would have easily missed it.

I love you.

“I-I love you, too.” You pant, his brows contorting as he lets out a groan.

Your release rips through you, legs wrapping against him and battered core clenching against Namjoon’s hasty thrusts. Your vision blurs out, electricity humming through your form until it fizzles out.

Namjoon roughly thrusts against you one last time before he’s coming, his seed coating your damp walls and dripping out of your opening. He collapses against your gasping form, his breaths intermingling with yours through the silence.

You reach out, softly running a hand against his soaked back before tangling your fingers within his dampened locks. He tilts his head to the side, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then leaning back.

He carefully slips out of you, a mixture of your combined releases leaking out of your core. He rises from the bed as you lay there, returning with a moist cloth that he gently taps against your swollen core.

The blanket is tugged up as Namjoon settles in, warmth already surrounding you from his embrace alone. A lazy smile curves on his lips, his features mirroring your content expression as you welcome sleep with open arms.

Namjoon is awoken with a gentle shake to his shoulder.

His eyes briefly flutter, refusing to open as a sound of protest leaves him. His shoulder is shaken again, but this time it’s rougher.

“Namjoon…” Your voice whispers from behind him, “Namjoon, please wake up.”

There’s a sense of urgency in your words and it’s the single thing that causes Namjoon to roll over, his eyes squinting through the lack of lighting. You hover above him, hair still tousled and the blanket covering you slipping from your shoulders, but your eyes frantically search his features.

“Y/N…” He croaks, voice husky from sleep, “What is it...?”

You bite down nervously on your lip and Namjoon’s confusion only deepens.

“I-I….I think I saw someone.” You profess, “Outside.”

At that, Namjoon’s eyes flash open. He bolts upright, leaning towards you and directing his gaze towards the window.

“Through there?” He points and you immediately nod, watching him scramble out of the sheets and pacing over to the glass.

You closely follow behind, peering over his shoulder, “It was almost like a shadow...I thought I was hearing things at first but then I just saw‒”

As if on cue, his eyes catch onto it. Like a faint blur in the darkness of the night sky, his pupils narrow onto the faint movement.

He spins around, orbs coming into contact with yours. “We need to know who that is.”

You nod, swiveling around and then walking towards the bedroom cupboards for some clothes. By the time you manage to find a nightgown, Namjoon already has his trousers on, hands rummaging around for his shirt.

He slips his arms through it as you adjust your straps, concerned eyes peering at you as he hurriedly does the buttons. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a firm nod.

The door quietly creaks open as Namjoon gazes around, gesturing with his hand for you to follow him. The pair of you descend down the stairs carefully, eyes racking around for any sight of movement.

There’s absolutely nothing ‒ an eerie silence reigning over the house instead. It’s truthfully unsettling, and you find yourself unconsciously drifting over to Namjoon’s side, slipping your fingers within his.

Once you reach the front door, Namjoon tightens his grip on you. He slowly pushes against it, attempting not to wince at the gush of wind that spills in. As silent as it is inside the house, being outside doesn’t seem to help.

You and Namjoon instantly separate, searching around the area with the notion that either of you will alert the other from finding something. But no matter how much you peer around, even specifically searching in the region where your window was, there seems to be no one in sight.

The two of you return inside when it feels like your fingers and toes are prepared to fall off from the icy cold, confusion evident in your shared glance.

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders.

"...Y/N."

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly.

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby."

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you."

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship.

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement.

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was.

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy.

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere.

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today.

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again.

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer.

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter.

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded.

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her.

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return.

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke.

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life.

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit.

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast."

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person.

"You're too good to me."

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time.

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head.

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond.

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy."

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this."

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you.

"Okay."

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in.

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care.

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple.

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy."

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over.

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips.

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes.

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again.

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again.

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics.

-------

The Second Anniversary

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction.

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss.

"Come on, let's go inside."

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house.

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today.

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us."

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there.

"Okay, we'll be there."

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return.

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much."

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter.

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now.

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something.

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other.

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone.

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely.

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend.

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh.

She always was a sucker for happy endings.

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jordanstrophe · 3 years

Text

The Price of Freedom

My new favorite prompt <3

CW: Whump, kidnap attempt, bodyguard Caretaker with a reluctant defiant whumpee, restraints, manhandled.

“What do you mean Caretaker is going to follow me everywhere?!” Whumpee shouted.

“Darling! I’m sorry, but It’s not safe for you to be out there alone! Caretaker has agreed to protect you and keep you safe. You need to be appreciative!”

Caretaker tried to give them a warm smile, but Whumpee grumpily turned their head away.

“This is ridiculous! I don’t even believe someone is dumb enough to go after me! I don’t even have anything they could want.” Whumpee pouted.

“Yes, you do, dear. You’re my only child, they'll use you for random or as a bargaining chip for my company! This bodyguard is happening whether you like it or not!”

Whumpee dug their nails into their hair as they let out an agonized groan in frustration.

“Fine! Don’t let me live a normal life!” Whumpee shouted before storming out the door with a slam. Caretaker pulled down their sunglasses as they bolted off after them.

Whumpee crossed their arms with a shiver as they climbed down the long stairs outside. They could hear the heavy steps behind them of their new “bodyguard” trailing at their heel.

“Stop following me.” Whumpee cranked their head back as the slowed their pace.

“Sorry, I have my orders.” Caretaker said, their face solid stone.

“Ugh.. So how much are you getting paid for this? Enough to retire in a weekend?” Whumpee sassed. Caretaker didn’t respond, Whumpee couldn’t even tell a hint of expression behind their dark shades. Whumpee continued down the stairs, as so did Caretaker.

Mission make Caretaker’s job hell, was a go.

As soon as Whumpee’s foot hit the bottom of the steps, they bolted. They ran as fast as they could down the sidewalk, not even caring about the people staring at them. To be honest, they never did.

They took random corners, sharp turns into shops, then out the back door. They ran down the street until they slowed to a stop, huffing and gasping for air. They leaned their shoulder against the wall as they caught their breath. There was no way Caretaker could have possibly kept up with the-

“Nice try.”

“AAH!” Whumpee screamed, whirling around to see Caretaker standing right behind them not even short of breath.

“You- Wha-When? How!?” Whumpee stuttered with hardly any air in their lungs.

“I’m your bodyguard, how do you think?”

“Okay! Okay fine. You win!” They raised their hands in defeat as Caretaker smiled proudly. Whumpee dug through their pockets for their wallet as they found a shop that sold smoothies. They ordered their favorite, as they slumped against the wall on their phone as they waited for it to be made. Caretaker guarding valiantly at their side, of course.

When their name was called, Whumpee barely looked up. “Can you get that?” They murmured. Caretaker raised an eyebrow at them with distrust. “What if I slip walking over there?” Whumpee slowly lifted their eyes. Caretaker sighed, “Don’t go anywhere..” They growled before spinning around. “Yeah! Yeah...”

Yeah right.

Caretaker quickly gathered the cold drink, turning around to see Whumpee gone from the wall they left them at. They looked around until they found them standing by the road at a bus.

“You can keep the smoothie for your trouble!” Whumpee called with a chuckle, before hopping on.

“WAIT!” Caretaker shouted, dropping the smoothie as they bolted just in time for the bus doors to close and take off. “No!” They cried, as they skidded to a stop at the empty road. They watched the bus drive away as they could make out Whumpee waving goodbye from the window.

“Hey! Hey you! Where does that bus go?!

<><>

“Aha! Outsmarted.” Whumpee giggled to themselves as they proudly descended the bus. Finally, they were alone with peace and quiet, just like normal!

... Wait, where even was this place?

They were in a rundown part of town they had never seen before. No fancy shops, no paved roads, just dirt and ancient shops...

Oh well! Another adventure to explore! Whumpee went off down the dirt road to take a peak into the abandoned shops. They froze when a speeding car screeched to a stop at their side, dirt flying everywhere.

No! There is no way Caretaker managed to find them that quickly!

They watched as several men came crawling from the old car dressed oddly, dirty suit and tie, some with rolled up sleeves just to show off their muscles. Yet they couldn’t help but to let out a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Caretaker.

“What’s the deal, kid?” The obvious leader of the group nodded.

“Oh! Erm, nothing. I just afraid you were... Someone else.” Whumpee trailed off, getting nervous.

“Oh did you now? How sweet.” Whumper smiled. "You’ll wish we were them when we’re through with you.” He hissed.

Whumpee gasped as they lunged towards them, their fingers just barely grazing their clothes as they ducked. They tried to bolt away, but someone was already in front of them before they had a chance, they were quickly surrounded.

“W-wait! Y-you don’t have to do th-this!” Whumpee pressed their back against the old building wall, pebbles crumbling off it at just at the slight touch.

“That’s true! But we want to! I’d love to hear the amount your mother dearest is willing to pay when we tell her we have her only child.” He grinned.

Sweat beamed off Whumpee’s forehead... She was right... And so was Caretaker! They should have listened to both of them instead of acting like a fool. They even treated Caretaker horribly!

*sigh* Well well... if it isn’t the consciences of their own actions.

They raised their hands in defeat as they took their last breath of freedom. Their hands were roughly taken as they were turned around and shoved against the wall, their arms tightly bound behind them.

“P-please!” Whumpee begged as a tear escaped their eyes. Everything froze when they heard the sound of dozens of cars screech up surrounding them.

“Shoot! Boss, we have to go!” One yelled, as Whumpee let out a choke as their collar was roughly grabbed and pulled along.

“Stop right there!” A familiar voice shouted, as Whumpee blinked away the tears to see Caretaker leap from a car and charge in.

“Ca-Caretaker!” Whumpee cried out for them.

“Shut up! Get in the car!” Whumper yelled, trying to push Whumpee into the van. Whumpee refused to go easily, as they pushed back with their feet against the side of the car. It was like trying to get an angry cat in a bath.

Caretaker caught up as they tacked Whumper to the ground, Whumpee lost their footing as they fell beside them against the harsh gravel. They tried to crawl away as they could hear the constant slamming sound of Caretaker’s fist connecting with Whumper’s face, over and over again.

Eventually, they were arrested and taken away. Whumpee felt hand wrap around their wrists as they let out a fearful cry.

“Shh, It’s okay.” Caretaker whispered, cutting their bound wrists free. They helped Whumpee sit up as they used their sleeve to clean their face of the dirt.

“Are you okay?”

“Caretaker!... I-I’m so s-sorry!” Whumpee sobbed, as they broke down crying. They fell right against their chest as Caretaker pulled them into a comforting hug.

“It’s okay.” They smiled, brushing the dust from their hair. They pulled their coat off their back and draped it over Whumpee's shoulders.

“I’m just so glad you’re safe.”

Tag list: @grizzlie70 @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward @whatwhumpcomments @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me

o(^∀^*)o Thank you for reading!

#whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #caretaking #caretaker bodyguard #kidnap attempt #whump prompts #defiant whumpee #overprotective caretaker

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xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

Impulse: Part 2 (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Pena as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: ANGST!!! Explicit drug and alcohol abuse from the beginning, depressive thinking/intrusive thoughts, swearing, major character death, blood, smoking, gun violence, show level violence

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: The response to the first part of this has been fucking insane! I was not expecting you guys to like it so much, so thanks a lot! Like I said before THIS IS THE END OF THE STORY BUT NOT THE END OF THE SERIES.

Part 1

Sleep never found you. You drank the bottle of wine Connie gave you without a glass, letting the alcohol wash away your anxieties as you stared out the window to the city surrounding you. You had dreamed of coming here since the idea was first put forward to you. You had the chance to capture Escobar! Ideas of chasing him through the city being the one to catch him, finally stop the war and be a hero had flooded your imagination. You knew that was never going to happen now, not only because the true scale of the horror here was much larger than just one man, but because you were going home.

It was the only logical solution. The only one that didn’t result in your death, at least. If you stayed it was almost certain to be a death sentence, by your hand or at the hand of someone else. If you stayed you would die. If you went home, maybe someone could help. As much as it pained you, it was the only plan that made sense.

Still a little drunk, you called the ambassador’s office leaving a message on the answerphone for the secretary to find when she got into work. There was no going back now.

You showered, changed your clothes from the day before into new clean ones. You spent a little extra time on your hair, singing along to the radio while you attempted to fix the birds nest on top of your head. You looked tired, not just your skin- it was like your soul had been tainted now. You forced a smile, practising in the mirror. You were not convincing even yourself; your eyes were red and sunken from lack of sleep; your nose was red from the constant scratching and your eyes had no light. You looked as rough as you felt, cravings were starting again you felt like your whole body was on fire, itching from the inside out. As the effects of alcohol wore off, the need for a replacement was heightened.

Still wanting to avoid Javier, you knocked on Steve’s apartment and he took you to work. When you arrived, Javier was already at his desk. As if nothing was wrong, he slipped a packet of cigarettes over to you as had become your tradition. You never brought cigarettes here, it just became a habit that the two of you shared. You took one, lit it with your Zippo and took your first nicotine hit of the morning. Javi claimed he let you share because he was trying to cut down, you doubted that. It was a peace offering today.

From then on you could almost forget anything had happened the day before. The three of you got on with your usual day's tasks. A cigarette never left your lips all morning. It wasn’t what you wanted but the nicotine was doing well at curbing your cravings. Javier and Steve were in and out all morning while you did the paperwork that they didn’t have time for. The mundanity of it was exactly what you had needed.

Lost in concentration as you struggled to read Carrillo’s terrible handwriting for his part of your case report, you didn’t hear the phone ring. Being closest, Steve answered the call, said something you didn’t hear and held the handset out in your direction. You looked up. You never got calls.

“It’s for you,” Steve passed the phone to you, a suspicious look on his face.

You took it and placed the receiver between your head and shoulder while you looked for a paper you’d been looking for. You nearly dropped it when the receptionist on the other side told you she had got you a meeting in the hour. You hadn’t expected it so soon! You hadn’t practised what to say! You thanked her and hung up, quickly standing up to collect your things.

“Hey, hold up Rookie where are you going?” Steve called after you. Javier looked up from his work, equally as confused.

“Out,” you called back, already through the doors. You didn’t see the look of concern the two men shared when you left the room.

It felt strange driving somewhere on your own. You always had Javier, Steve, or Connie. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d driven yourself somewhere. But you needed to do this alone. You needed to prove to yourself that you could do one thing right completely alone.

You were scared, terrified of what was going to happen. Your palms were so sweaty you could hardly grip the wheel. Each intersection you were tempted to turn around and go back, pretend nothing had happened. The idea of giving in one last time filled your mind, you became so distracted you didn’t notice the traffic in front of you and nearly rear-ended a taxi in front of you. The annoyed driver flipped you off out the window. The near miss brought you back to reality, you took a deep breath and shook your head of all the thoughts. You could survive without it.

On the walk through the embassy, you passed the place Javi had pushed you against the wall, where you’d flipped out. A black scuff mark was the only evidence anything had happened, but your memory supplied you with the rest of the details. Hot guilt spread over the back of your neck and you sped up, averting your eyes when you passed the bathroom a little further on. You had let this go too far, but you were fixing it. You were going to be better.

The assistant outside the door beamed at you, offering small talk while you waited for the ambassador to finish his meeting. She mostly asked after Javier. After a few minutes, the ambassador emerged, two well-dressed men walked out with him, and he smiled warmly.

“Y/N, nice to see you again so soon,” You took a deep breath and quickly wiped your sweaty palms on your pants, “Come on in,” He showed you inside and offered you a seat on the couch to the side of the room. You sat down, gladly accepting the drink his assistant offered. The ambassador dismissed her and sat down opposite you, sipping his glass of whiskey. “What can I do for you?”

---

You stepped out of the room and felt lighter and heavier simultaneously. You confessed, told him everything from the beginning when you first met Maria to yesterday’s events. You’d confessed, you were on your way to help but that had come at a cost. You were leaving on Monday; your position was in question and the ambassador had been far from sympathetic. You managed to hold it together inside but as soon as the golden sun hit your face you broke down into tears.

He had been kind in not arresting you, but his words were far from it. Called you a failure, weak, pathetic. A disappointment to the agency and the country. The disgusted look on his face was one you wouldn’t forget, seemingly imprinted on the back of your eyelids flashing with every blink you took. Your nose itched as if automatically knowing what you would do to soothe your pain, body craving the solution to its problem, but you ignored it.

Instead, you got back in the truck and drove. Music cranked way up so you couldn’t hear yourself think, driving until you felt better. You didn’t need the drug; you were stronger than that! You thought you were until you came to Maria’s house. Like a homing pigeon, you had subconsciously driven down her street, despite it being in nearly the opposite direction to your destination. You slowed down and sat outside the building just watching it. Tempting yourself when you know you shouldn’t. You knew she was home; you knew she would have some for a party or just for her personal use! She could help you. She was a great friend. She wasn’t going to judge you.

Before you knew it, you turned the car off and had a hand on the door handle. Your hands were trembling as your body was fighting against itself. You knew how easy it could be, how good it would feel to get just a little taste. Maria would probably have good food too, maybe you could go inside to have lunch. You hadn’t eaten since dawn and your stomach growled. If she happened to have coke it wouldn’t be your fault, you would be being a good guest!

You were about to give in when you spotted Javi’s yellow sunglasses reflecting on the dash and his words from the day before rang in your head. You’re better than this. Your hand let go of the door and you sighed heavily. Even in your head, the asshole was right. If you gave in now, what was the point of everything you had just done in the embassy? If you gave in now you were exactly what the ambassador thought you were; weak and pathetic. If you left now, you were still you. The real you. The one who had fought tooth and nail to get down here. The one who helped people, who saved people. You had proved yourself against people’s preconceptions every day here, you couldn’t give up now. You took your hands back to the wheel, turned the ignition and drove away, tears rolling down your cheeks.

The office was empty when you returned to the compound. Confused for a moment, you looked for a note that was usually left if the boys were called away quickly. There was nothing. You sat down at your desk and wondered. Steve’s jacket was still on the back of his chair, Javier’s tie discarded haphazardly on his desk. They couldn’t have gone far. Then you remembered. You had a strategy meeting with Carrillo which according to the clock on the wall started thirty minutes ago. You cursed aloud and ran to Carrillo’s office.

“Rookie, nice of you to join us,” Carrillo said sarcastically as you slipped through the door into the room.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” You said, taking a seat on a desk across from the men.

“Maybe Peña should make a note of it for your report card,” Carrillo added with a smirk, you frowned.

“I said I’m sorry,” You grumbled, not in the mood for his bitching. You had just had one of the hardest conversations of your life, you didn’t need Carrillo making your mood any worse. You crossed your arms and sulked in the corner. Carrillo always had a way of making your mood sour instantly, you detested him.

Luckily, he gave up quickly and returned to his previous speech. You were barely listening, constantly catching yourself drifting off in thought, until you heard your name.

“Peña and L/n are on stakeout tonight,” Carrillo said. The mention of your name with Peña’s made you snap back to reality quickly.

“Can’t Steve do it?” You asked, interrupting him. The idea of spending any time with Javi felt like a nightmare. You could barely even look at him out of shame and embarrassment let alone spend ten hours with him in a car.

“You’re late and now you want to start questioning my authority?” Carrillo bit back.

“I’m not questioning your authority, sir,” You snarled, “I am saying I- actually no I don’t need to explain myself to any of you. I refuse,”

“Do as you’re fucking told, Rookie,” Javier finally snapped. He had been silent throughout, letting Steve and Carrillo discuss the plan while he smouldered in his seat, watching you instead. You had that faraway look you had in your eye yesterday, red eyes and constantly fiddling with your sleeves, he assumed the worst. He was sick of it.

His sudden outburst made everyone in the room stop. You were shocked, he’d never used that tone on you before. Everyone looked at him, then to you. Your eyes were big and glassy full of tears, mouth dropped a little, staring wildly at Javier. After a moment, you swallowed down whatever back talk had been sat on your tongue and settled down again, looking away from the man and down to the files on the table.

As soon as the meeting was finished you walked out as fast as possible. You were trembling with a mixture of anger and shame; you couldn’t work out if you were going to cry or scream. Both would work. You wanted to hide away and hope that Javier would just leave for the stakeout without you.

“Are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on with you and Javi?” Steve asked from behind you, jogging to catch up with you as you marched down the hallway. You sighed in annoyance, you just wanted to be alone.

“Nothing’s going on,” You grumbled.

“So that in there was nothing?” He pressed. You shrugged and shook your head. Steve scoffed, “You leave all afternoon on your own, you won’t tell anyone where you are going. You come back late, and then try to get out of a shift? Fucks wrong with you?”

“Fuck off, Steve it’s none of your business,” You muttered, sitting down at your desk doing your best to ignore him and start some paperwork. You didn’t look at what you were doing, more just using it to cue him to leave. He didn’t take it.

“You’re part of my team, it is my business,”

“It’s nothing to do with you. It's between me and Peña and it’s none of his business either!” You snapped. You dropped the pile of paper in your hand making it thud and you looked over at him with a hard glare, “Both of you need to back off. I’m not a kid, I can deal wit\`h it by myself. I don’t ask you about the arguments you’ve been having with Connie, do I?” Steve scoffed and shook in disbelief. It was a low blow, but you were angry and hurt. He didn’t deserve it, but you just needed him to leave, “Leave me alone. I’ve got shit to do,”

Steve left in a huff. He brushed past Peña, giving his partner the same glare he’d given you, as he stormed out the office. Javier took one look at you sitting at the desk, and walked the other way, he didn’t want to talk to you either.

Alone in the office, you worked almost to spite the two older agents. You could still be productive despite the incessant devil on your shoulder telling you about the as yet unweighted bags in the evidence locker. You could go get some and you'd be much happier, and nobody would know at all. You ignored it, gritting your teeth, and forcing yourself to focus. You couldn’t steal from the evidence! The words on the page didn’t even look real anymore, your brain so overwhelmed you could hardly make sense of the parts in English let alone Spanish.

Memories of better times crept into your mind, remembering the last time you were here so late. You, Javi, and Steve were the last ones in the building still pacing through the coded list of names you had found through your CI. You were all delirious and someone found a radio at some point, you managed to catch a station playing some American pop music. Prince and Bon Jovi, even some Abba. You danced around the room singing and laughing, dragging an initially reluctant Steve with you. Javier sat and watched, laughing at the two of you making fools of yourself. You were happy then, confident and content.

The warmth of the memory was cut by the ice of the room surrounding you now. There was no laughter, no joy. The two people who meant the most to you hated you now. Where you once felt bravely on the edge of greatness here, you now barely gripped the ledge before you fell to despair. You felt your grip slipping every day that passed.

You sighed, rubbed your hands over your face shaking off the memories and returning to your work. You wondered about food but decided against it, here you were safe from yourself. You couldn’t do anything here without somebody catching you. As well as you hidden your habit you knew you couldn’t try it here, that would be truly insane. You had promised yourself you would stop so you sat and worked alone until Javier reappeared and called you to heel.

No words were spoken on the way out of the compound. You knew the plan already and neither you nor Javier felt like small talk. Javi drove and parked outside a row of houses near the top of Medellin. It was quiet, there was a good view out over the city with all the lights trickling down the hillside to the city centre. You focused on that, turning away from Javier in your seat, to focus on the view.

You dragged your jacket tighter around your chest as the winter air crept into the car. You should have gone home to get a better coat. As mild as it was in the day, up in the hills at night the air was sharp and bit through the thin leather material easily.

The silence in the car was awkward. You could tell Javier wanted to say something, it sat on the tip of his tongue as he flicked from looking at the target and you. Usually, you filled these long tedious times with quiet chatter about something or other that you had read or heard around the office, often teasing Javier over the latest secretary he’d bagged. He often complained about it, protesting that he would rather sit in silence than hear you babbling on, but now there was nothing he would like more.

He wanted to know what was going on in your head. Seeing you so reckless and out of control had scared him. It was his fault he’d not stopped you sooner, not done his job as your mentor properly. He’d only proved himself right by letting you fall like this, that he was never fit for the role in the first place. He had proof of his failings now shivering silently in the seat next to him. Out of everything that he had done, you were his worst failure yet.

Memories of the first stakeout you had been on with Javier came to mind, you remembered how surprisingly fun it was. It was the first time you got to know the man, about a month into your time in Colombia you were still a little awkward around him. Still trying to work out what kind of mentor he was, you had never spent more than half an hour alone with him before. But somehow, you talked all night, got takeout and the time seemed to fly by. Nothing exciting happened but from that moment you two became a lot more comfortable with each other and trust began to form.

You missed being able to have fun with him. You were going to miss Javier, despite the ups and downs of your relationship you admired him and held him with the utmost regard. He was an asshole at times, you butted heads a lot, but he never did anything rash and always had your best interest at heart. You were going to miss him a lot. You wanted to tell him about your decision, but you thought he wouldn’t care, not now. It would be easier for both of you if he never knew.

You looked back at the glowing clock on the dash, barely an hour had passed. It was going to be a long night.

“Where did you go earlier?” Javier finally broke the silence. He wasn’t angry, merely asking. You frowned.

“Why do you care?” You grumbled.

“Answer the question,” He sighed, exasperated by your attitude.

“If you must know, I went to the ambassador’s office,” You said, Javi frowned, it was not the answer he was expecting, “What? Did you think I was going to get high or something?” Javi shrugged. You scoffed. “I do listen to you, you know that?”

“Hard to believe sometimes,” Javi jabbed back. You didn’t have a particularly good track record of doing what you were told, but things always worked out in the end. That was half the reason Javi had left you so long in this mess. He trusted you could get yourself out like always. You scoffed, crossed your arms, and turned away again. The truck fell silent again, Javi took another drag of his cigarette and sighed before speaking again, “What did you talk to the ambassador about?”

You realised he was going to drag it out of you whether you wanted to tell him or not. He couldn’t tell if you were lying, he wanted to believe you- that you had made the right choice by yourself, but he needed to hear it from your mouth. He wanted proof that he hadn’t entirely fucked you up. You took a deep breath before you spoke, facing forward looking out the window so you couldn’t see his reaction.

“I asked to be transferred back to the States, I can’t be here anymore,” Javier looked over at you, his face was almost entirely unreadable. A cigarette smouldered between his fingers, unmoving while he listened to you, “I told him everything, I’m being transferred out on Monday. If I don’t get dropped from the DEA entirely, it’ll be a fucking miracle,” You took a deep breath as tears pricked your eyes, “I let you down. I let you and Steve down, and I am completely in over my head now. I can’t in good conscience stay when I am putting you two in more danger and doing harm to myself. Ever since I got here you have been nothing but helpful. You’re a great mentor and a great friend and-,” You choked on a sob, tears streamed down your face as you confessed to him, “You were right, I wasn’t ready for this, I am fucked,”

“Shit,” Javi cursed under his breath.

“That’s all you're going to say?” You laughed humourlessly. You wiped your eyes and nose with the cuffs of your jacket. That was not the reaction you were expecting from him, “You can tell me you told me so, go ahead I know you want to,”

“We’ve got movement,” He said gesturing to the car that had just pulled up in front of the property you had been watching. Three men got out of the car and walked into the house. Your heart leapt at the thought of this finally being Escobar, that you had caught him when he was least expecting it. There had been rumours he was using this house for a little while, that's what you and Javier were there to investigate.

“Shit,” You echoed Javier’s previous statement, “What do we do?”

“We stay here and watch,” Javier replied sensibly. You knew that was what you should do but the emotion of the day was catching up to you. This could be your last chance and you were going to take it.

“No way, that could be him!” You exclaimed, “I’m not just going to sit here and watch while fucking Escobar passes a hundred feet in front of us!” You sat up in your seat, bent over to tie your shoes ready to go.

“Y/n, no. We don’t know it’s him,” Javier tried to reason but your hand was already on the door, gun ready in the other. You’d made up your mind, too full of frustration and emotion to stop for a minute to think.

“Javi come on! I know you’re sick of this bullshit too! If I’m leaving Monday, I don’t want this to be wasted. Call Carrillo, get some backup, we’ll go now,”

“I said no,” He protested.

“Fine I’ll go by myself, you stay in the truck and keep deniability,” You opened the door and slipped out into the cold Medellin air before Javi could answer. You pulled the gun from your back, loaded it, and crept to the house not once looking back at Javier in the car.

You ran across the road and slipped through the alleyway which separated the house from the rest of the row. Around the back of the building, pressed up the wall, you peered through a window. A small crack in the curtains didn’t let you see much but you could hear at least two voices. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, held your gun tight and moved again, walking along the wall to the first door you could find. It was open.

You crept inside, keeping as quiet as possible. It was dark inside the small porch; you couldn’t see your footing. Your foot met with a glass bottle kicking it across the floor till it clattered against the wall. You winced and stood still, listening out for any sign the occupants had heard you. Sound from a TV still played, you were in the clear for now. You pushed on through the house, carefully pushing open another door which opened into a kitchen.

The warm light hurt your eyes a little, you squinted to adjust. The kitchen was well used, a pile of pans sat dirty in the sink and a pot of half-eaten food sat on the stove. You stopped to think for a second what your plan was. Until that moment you had been so caught up in the fact Escobar could be here, you’d run in without a plan. You were starting to think that wasn’t the best idea. You considered turning back, waiting outside for Javi to join.

You looked up from your spot to see a man had entered the room. Tall, dark curly hair, you instantly recognised him. Diego, Maria’s boyfriend. Your stomach dropped; this was the worst possible thing to happen. He recognised you too, his dropped jaw quickly turned into a smirk as he pulled out his gun and pointed it at you.

“Isabella?” He asked using the name he knew you by. Isabella Rodriguez, you had used the name for months to get into Maria’s group and get intel. “I knew there was something off about you!” He smirked.

“Lower your weapon, now!” You ordered. Your heart hammered in your chest, feeling the absence of a tact vest now. You were completely vulnerable, stood up against Diego’s gun in nothing but a leather jacket. He didn’t move an inch, so you pressed again. “Put it down and I don’t put a bullet in your skull,” You growled, becoming impatient. You were completely stuck; you had no plan at all other than to stall until Javi arrived.

Suddenly a cold press of metal stamped against your back. Your breath hitched at the contact, but you remained as calm, keeping your focus on Diego. Before you could even register it, your legs were swiped out from under you. You fell forward with a thud, your gun sliding across the tile away from you.

You fell hard, hitting your nose on the ground instantly cracking it. It throbbed and blood poured out. You pressed up but were pulled back onto your knees by the hair by the unknown man behind you. You groaned and spat out the blood that had trickled into your mouth. That was when another familiar face appeared in the doorway. The man who haunted your dreams, who’d driven you to this mess in the first place, Pablo Escobar.

He was older than the photo that donned your office wall, fatter, and more tired looking; but his image had been drilled into your brain so much it was unmistakably him. It was almost underwhelming to finally meet him; he was far too human. Far too real. There had been an air of omnipotence that had built up whilst you chased him, always just out of reach. He always knew the next move; he planned every move. But now to be here in front of you, in flesh and blood, you realised he was just that. Flesh and blood.

He sighed when he bent over to pick up your discarded gun. He inspected it in his hand, grimaced then flicked the safety off and pointed it at you. Your heart rattled so fast it made your chest ache. Bottom lip trembling, eyes filling with tears, your eyes locked with his. This was most undoubtedly the end.

The cold metal of the gun’s barrel pressed against your forehead and you screwed your eyes shut, praying for Javi and Carrillo to come through the door and save you. You wished you could apologise for being so brash, and forever causing such a mess. You slowly opened your eyes again to meet with your reaper, tears rolled down your cheeks. His cold dead eyes saw into your very soul. You didn’t need to say anything, he could read your mind.

“You know how we deal with rats, right?”

Javier had called for back up, Carrillo and his a team of men came quickly with Steve in tow. Javier hadn’t explained much of the situation, there wasn’t much too explain yet but Steve was furious.

“Why the fuck didn’t you go with her?” Steve burst from the truck before it stopped moving, barrelling towards Javi.

“She ran off! I had to call you,” Javi exclaimed, backing up away from his partner.

“That’s a fucking first,” He snarled.

The men were saved an argument as the sound of a gunshot disturbed the air, reminding them of the task at hand. The black car parked in front of the house screeched as it sped away, out of the city. The men shot at it but missed. That wasn’t their priority. Headed by Javier, the men ran on into the house through the open front door. They had to find you.

“You go upstairs, I’ll take down,” Javi barked at his partner, who obediently followed the order.

It was clear from the contents of the house, whoever had been here hadn’t been here long. There was barely enough furniture to make it comfortable, what personal items had been left were few and far between. The entire place stank of urine and burnt food. Javi moved through the property quickly, clearing every small room he went.

“Y/n!” Steve called as he searched upstairs. There was nothing upstairs except for a couple of stained mattresses, a disgusting bathroom, and a discarded razor. There was barely a sign that people had been living there let alone any sign of you. Dread was starting to creep up in his stomach as he walked back down the stairs. He hadn’t heard anything from Javier to announce you’d been found. Maybe you were taken in the car they’d failed to stop.

Steve found his partner standing in the kitchen at the back of the house. Javier stood still, his back turned to the entrance. He didn’t move a muscle when Steve entered the room.

“Javi?” Steve prompted when he didn’t move. He came closer and saw what was holding his attention.

You.

Slumped on the floor, knees trapped under your chest, blood poured out of an open wound in your head. Blood covered the tile floor, spilling down channels in the grout. Steve couldn’t look, nearly vomiting as if his body was rejecting the horror that overtook him at the sight. He quickly dragged Javier by the arm, to turn away. Javier lashed out, shoving him off. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, lit up in the dim light of the house. Steve had never seen him cry before.

“Fuck!” He yelled, throwing himself at the dirty couch in front of him. It didn’t move. Unsatisfied, Javi stormed out, shoving past Carrillo and his men who had returned from their search, to get some air. Steve let them through, pointing over at your body.

Grief had settled over him quickly, guilt came second, making Steve’s whole world fuzzy. He was stuck between joining Javi in running for the hills and not wanting to leave your side. He watched on patiently as your body was laid out. One of Carrillo’s men took photos of the scene, Steve almost laughed at the sight. This wasn’t something he was going to need physical reminders of, it would be etched on his memory forever.

Eventually, an ambulance was called, and your body was taken away. Steve followed you out, getting one final look before the doors were closed. People trickled away, Carrillo clapping him on the back in some attempt at comfort, and soon Steve climbed back into his truck completely alone again. Javi’s truck was gone. No doubt burying himself in some poor girl somewhere to burn the anger out.

Steve was angry. Angry at Javi for letting you go alone, angry at himself for not switching with you when you protested. He lashed out, slamming his hands onto the wheel, and letting out a cry of frustration. He wondered if you knew this would happen. There were so many things he didn’t understand about what had happened, and it seemed he was never going to find out now. It was all over.

He drove back to his apartment in complete silence. His anger had cooled, red hot now cold settled in his chest as cold blind rage. Rage at your actions, at Javi’’s, at Escobar and this fucking country. Everything about this place was hell, what had he done to deserve to see someone so young, so promising, die like that. It was not fair.

Steve stumbled into his apartment and was met by Connie making dinner in the kitchen.

“Hey! Everything okay?” She asked innocently. From the kitchen, she couldn’t see her husband collapse on the couch or his slumped over form and how he scraped his hand over his face as if to pull the guilt out of his skin. “Hey next time you see Y/n, could you give her this?” Connie started talking, walking into the room with a sweater in her hand. The mention of your name made Steve’s heart break a little more and tears spilled from his eyes, “She left it here after dinner last week, I keep forgetting-“ Connie entered the room and instantly saw Steve’s anguish. “Baby? What happened?”

“She’s gone,” He croaked out. He didn’t need to stay anymore. He couldn’t. Connie dropped the sweater in shock and stumbled to Steve who instantly wrapped himself around her.

---

Javier, in typical fashion, rang his usual girl and fucked his frustration out. Unusually rough and uncaring, he hoped the excursion would force the overwhelming remorse out. Even when he finished and the girl hobbled out the apartment, clutching his money, the guilt didn’t leave. It only got worse.

He couldn’t remember how long he had stood looking at your body on that floor. The shock was so overwhelming he had just locked onto you as if waiting for you to jump up and say it was a prank. He took a long drag of his cigarette, holding it until it nearly made him choke to enjoy the heady sensation of it. He hadn’t moved from where the girl left him. A bottle of whiskey was within reach and another pack of cigarettes, he could stay there sinking into the couch until it all made sense.

He assumed you had given up. The hope he held at the beginning of the day, seeing you walking into the office smiling and happy had been shattered by the time you returned from your secret visit to the embassy. Of course at the time he was ignorant and had thought the worst of you. Then in the truck you had told the truth. You were trying to fix it the best you could and he never had a chance to say how proud he was of you. It had all been snatched away.

Javi couldn’t get his head around it. Death wasn’t new to him, he’d seen it countless times before, he had seen worse things working with Carrillo, but tonight threw him into a spiral. You had so much promise, so much more to give. It wasn’t fair. He should have intervened sooner, should have taken the time to talk to you the first time you showed up high at his door. Maybe this would never have happened if he had done his job properly. He may as well have shot you himself.

You said you had failed him, but he had failed you in the end. He should never have let you go alone even for a minute. He didn’t even stay to help move your body, he abandoned you for his own comfort. Guilt pressed down on him hard at that fact. He was selfish. He claimed to care about you but had left you dead on a dirty stone floor for someone else to pick up. You didn’t deserve that. He wanted to apologise to you, but that was never going to happen now.

Possibly the worst part was that he knew he had to write up the events that lead to your death. He would have to repeatedly explain it to the DEA, to the ambassador, to anyone that fucking asked him why the hell he let you go in there alone.

He drank more until the glass wasn’t fast enough. He drank straight from the bottle letting it burn his throat. He drank like the answer to the questions surrounding him was stuck to the bottom of the bottle. He wondered if you knew this would happen. Who had shot you? Why? At what point had this become inevitable? Did you know just how much you meant to him?

Eventually, the whiskey swept him up and let him sleep. He would have to wake up for the nightmare to start.

NEXT PART

---

*insert evil laugh* wanna get tagged in the next part? Let me know!!

tag list: @beskar-tano @beskarbabs @buckysbeloved @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @this-cat-is-dea @themidnightsun-12 @wille-zarr @danniburgh @itsaisopodkillmepls @urbankaite2 @whataloadofmalarkey @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus @sara-alonso @lesbianlena

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sinisterlyhan · 4 years

Text

03. bang chan ; 2chan / 5189 words

public sex, unprotected sex, crempie(ish...?), unprotected sex, female reader, it’s a quickie but i didn’t really write it like one

parts: 01 ; 02

a/n: my 1 whole minute google search looking up how to say changbin & chan 😭 also, ahh, this took a surprising turn.

1:00 pm, statistics class, and you absolutely dreaded it.

chan walked beside you, his eyes darting between you and the almost empty hallway of the math and science building. he looked somewhat nervous, but not nervous enough he appeared timid and shy.

according to his previous research, one that lasted for about two weeks, you would be getting grumpy starting right about now. and so far, he was able to conclude the reason behind your mini-bursts of temper tantrums: seo changbin.

ever since that night at the party, the one where you hooked up with changbin and never told him who you were, you had been avoiding him.

not in a sense where you were avoiding him in hopes that he would leave you alone because he would never look for you for anything. you were avoiding him in an attempt to keep yourself from thinking about him because he has been all you could think about.

you actively ignored his existence. not looking at him despite wanting to spare a glance during a boring lecture, not walking the path he does so you wouldn't get a chance to be near his vicinity, not thinking about him when you were touching yourself at night and trying to relish in the feeling of having him inside you.

it felt like an obsession, almost. it was unbelievable how much changbin has consumed you with just one night. if you close your eyes, you could still feel his plump lips on your neck and his bulky arms under your fingers. and you hated that, you really hated that. you thought getting off with only your vibrator was hard before, but oh, nobody prepared you for this.

you didn’t know changbin would be that good, and you had no idea that your preset fondness for him would take that secret affection, along with the sex, to a whole new level.

“he–“

“this is all your fault!” you huffed before chan could finish his sentence, snapping your head to his direction and cranking up your neck slightly to look at him.

“yes, i’m sorry.” chan nodded and clamped his mouth shut after the defeated apology.

he had no plans to argue with you, he tried that the first time you decided to get unreasonable with him and he completely lost the argument with all of his dignity lost. it was truly one of the worst arguments you two have had in the many years of your friendship, at least for him it was the worst because all he did was stand there while you brought up the weirdest thing to insult him.

he could remember everything, each one a little arrow to his poor, fragile heart. how he’s an idiot, how he’s the worst best friend, how you hate him for dragging you to the party that night, and possibly the funniest of it all—that his dick is small.

that didn’t hurt him as much as the other ones did because he knows you were wrong. and you would know if you had just asked him politely during that dry spell you had.

“gosh, i can’t stop thinking about him at all! this is crazy, i hate it!” you hissed as you ran a hand through your hair, scratching your scalp and pulling at your roots angrily before letting your hand fall to your side. “i literally cannot go one night without–ugh!”

chan looked over at you, his brows raised faintly at your dramatic reaction.

he was in disbelief when minho picked you and changbin back in the party, and he definitely did not miss the mischievous glint in minho’s eyes when he made direct eye-contact with him after he locked both you and changbin in the closet.

minho looked playfully spiteful, like he knew the secret chan was hiding layers beneath his opened heart, like he knew chan’s affection for you went beyond what one would call a best friend.

and he was in even more disbelief when the party was over and he was driving you home, then you started to really open up to him about everything that happened in the closet. your explicit words filled in the noises he heard from outside (those damn noises! the door banging and your scream of changbin’s name!), giving him a vague image of you fucking a man he had replaced his silhouette with.

it had taken him all the strength he has not to show you how turned-on he was the entire car ride. even though you just kept sighing about how good his friend was, which was ultimately weird but he thought he was more jealous and annoyed than weirded out. and he was so sure he could do better if you just give him the chance to prove it.

he wasn’t able to ask you so straightforwardly back then, considering how smitten you were with changbin just because of having sex with him once. granted, you did use to think of him during your midnight rendezvous, which was a detail chan really wished he hadn’t known.

he enjoyed nothing about this aside from the fact that you had asked him to help you avoid changbin so he would never find out you were the girl in the closet.

and chan did exactly that, happily as well. he has beaten it out of changbin’s head that you were not a candidate of choice and he wouldn’t have to take another glance at you. lo and behold, changbin really didn’t, and that has caused you so much distress because you wanted him so bad.

and chan was forced to hear you complain about it, it was so damn infuriating for him. he couldn’t take one more second of you whining about how good changbin fucked you that night.

“what if i make you forget him?” chan blurted that out far too quickly for his mind to fully process his words. by the time he was able to understand what he said, though, instead of fussing over it in embarrassment, he only turned to you with all seriousness in his eyes.

you took a moment to take in his insinuation. you wondered what he meant by making you forget changbin; did he mean he would take you out on a fun date? like somewhere in the middle of a roller-coaster ride where you’d scream so hard at the thrill of a drop that you temporarily forget about changbin. or did he mean something else? something else that still involves you screaming so hard that you’d forget about changbin.

“i can make you forget him,” he pressed on suddenly, taking a closer step towards you.

you stumbled back in shock, your eyes widening in panic amusement as you looked up at chan. you could only find a pair of intense eyes staring back at you, anticipation and desire burning behind those hooded brown eyes. they shone so prettily, you couldn’t look directly into them, so you glanced away as a nervous giggle left your lips.

“chan, wh–what are you talking about?” you stuttered, your eyes shaking at the proximity he closed off between you two by taking another step closer.

“you know what i’m talking about,” he hushed, leaning closer to your ear. “you don’t have to beg for it, just thought i could have helped.”

you shivered at those familiar words, your mind bouncing back to the conversation you had with him before the closet game started. so your assumption was right, he was aiming for the second option, he was talking about sex. your mind zapped blank at the mere idea and you found yourself losing your voice when you opened your mouth to speak.

chan, chan… it would probably be a phenomenal experience—fuck, hold on, no, wait. chan has been your best friend for years. he was always so kind and patient with everyone he meets, and he was possibly one of the hottest men you’ve ever met in your life.

it was a miracle that he was your friend at all, so would you really run the risk of destroying this friendship just because you were horny and was trying to get over somebody else?

“nothing is going to happen to us, (name).” as if reading your thoughts, chan was quick to mutter to your ear words of reassurance. “i asked you for this. if anyone should be scared of losing something, it should be me.”

your sight was blurring the more he leaned close to you. his nose touched yours at some point, and he nudged forward to he put pressure against the bridge. your lips were almost touching, you could feel his breath reverberating around the entrance of your lips and your skin went cold.

“only twenty minutes until class starts, (name),” he said, pulling away slightly so he could look into your eyes better. “let me help you. you will look into changbin’s eyes later and only see me.”

oh, that sounded very tempting. but surely, the most tempting aspect of this would be the man standing in front of you. and you wanted to.

before you could speak, a small commotion erupted at the start of the long hallway. a group of students walked past, chatting and laughing amongst each other. classes were slowly getting dismissed one by one, and soon there’d be more people scattered along the hallway, waiting for their next class. if you wanted to start, you’d better start now while you could still make some noises.

“but where are we gonna–“

chan flashed you a small grin. that sounded like an agreement to him but he would definitely be asking for it more down the line. for now, he grabbed onto your forearm and looked up, his eyes scanning the hallway for the room numbers.

stopping when he found your statistics class, he hummed in satisfaction when he saw that the room was pitch black inside, and he quickly dragged you along with him.

he pulled you inside the dark classroom and left your side so he could close and lock the door. as soon as he turned around, he reached his hands out to your face and moved closer to you, simultaneously tugging you towards him.

you stumbled, your hands flying up to his arms to steady yourself just as your lips crashed against each other.

your heavy breaths resonated with each other as you kissed each other fervently. he shrugged off his backpack and let it drop to the floor, same as you slowly let go of your bag to place it near your feet. none of you wanted to let any interruptions stop whatever you were doing, your eyes closed and lips hot against each other.

his calloused hands found their way to your jaw carefully, and he held your head in place so he could take the lead. he could feel your fingers slowly dragging across his back, trying to find something to hold or to tug on. they moved up, running along the back fo his neck to his head, and you flipped off his cap so you could thread your hand through his hair.

oh, this was nothing like you have imagined before, simply because the real thing could never compare to the vivid scenarios you overplay in your head. his lips were so soft, much like changbin’s small but plump once. but chan felt to have much more control over the situation, understandably as he wasn’t blinded like before.

chan slid his hands off your jaw after a while, gliding them down your body and stopping at your waist instead. then he walked, slowly bringing you backward until the back of your thighs hit the teacher’s table located in the middle. he squeezed the side of your waist when he heard you groan, and his arms flexed lightly as he hoisted you up to sit on the edge of the table.

finally getting the willpower to pull away from you, chan panted heavily to compensate for the long minute of him seemingly withholding his breath. he was kissing you, someone who he has been so fond of for way too long.

as soon as his lips touched yours, that was all he knew how to do; he couldn’t even remember to breathe through his nose, he just focused so hard on mapping out the shape of your mouth.

“are you okay with this?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

he tilted your face up, his thumb caressing your cheek. you looked at him, your heart palpitating against your chest in newfound excitement. and he was staring straight back at you.

there seemed to be a mutual understanding of this situation; his tenderly fond gaze revealing a silent confession, the rubbing of his thumb at your skin spilling an unspoken promise that he would take good care of you, that you wouldn’t have to worry at all.

it made your heart swirl into chaos. it was a different feeling than when you were stuck in the closet with changbin. back then you were excited to be able to have sex with someone, albeit the person is one of the many people you have a crush on. but you couldn’t see changbin then, nor did you know him the way you know chan now.

the butterflies flew more rapidly in your tummy and the flutter of their wings wafted against the skin of your ribs crazily. it sent you tingles all over your body, you never wanted to be away from chan.

“i think we should be quick, we don’t have much time left until class starts,” you mentioned, looking pointedly at him.

chan huffed out a laugh in response, his head dipping low as his eyes quirked into crescent moons. “well, thank god you are wearing a skirt today then,” he muttered, running his hand up your bare thighs and disappearing under the fabric of your pleated skirt. “save us the fuss of having to take things off.”

“i do have safety pants on, in case you don’t realize that,” you hummed, rolling your eyes slightly before you felt his hand reach all the way up to the waistband of your skirt.

his fingers tugged through the band as he tried to pick out the hem of your safety shorts, and you helped him out by shifting your weight when he pulled it off your legs with a swift yank. it dropped to your ankles and you arched your feet to shake them off to the ground, flinging them a little farther away from where he stood.

chan pushed you down onto the empty desk, an amused smile on his face when you yelped in surprise, your legs immediately spreading apart to let him scoot closer to the table. his fingers danced along your inner thigh before they finally reached your clothed heat, his hand slightly trembling in enthusiasm when you sighed at the featherlight touch.

his mind blanked out for a moment there, needing some extra time to process how this was really happening. albeit not at the most ideal location and he was limited by a ticking timeframe, being able to get so intimate with you was basically a dream come true to him. his yearning for you was finally going to be satiated for once.

“god, who would have thought i’d be doing it in my stats classroom–mm, woah, okay,” your sentence got cut off mid-way when you felt chan press his thumb against your clothed clit, pressing a jolt into your body and causing your brain to short-circuit quickly.

you laughed slightly in embarrassment, finding your reaction less than appealing despite it being more than he could ever ask for. but your laughter could only last for a brief moment before a blissful sigh left your lips. your eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of him moving your pantie to the side and slipping his middle finger inside.

oh, that was exactly what changbin did. flashes of the dark closet met your eyes as chan pumped his fingers in and out of your heat, flashes you felt guilty thinking about at a time like this. the man hovering above you wasn’t changbin, you had to remind yourself, and you opened your eyes just so you could look up at chan.

his hair was tousled from when you shifted your fingers through them when you kissed, and his eyes were focused on your every movement. the way your features scrunched and contorted with each pump of his finger, a prideful sight for him to look at until you suddenly opened your eyes to look at him. there was a moment of solace, just a brief moment, and then his hand slowed down as realization hit him.

“you’re thinking about him,” chan muttered.

you sighed, giving him a timid nod to confirm his assumption. and that—well, that was a new kind of soreness he has never felt in his chest before. he wanted to explode; the unreasonable anger stuffed inside of him, the jealousy churning in his chest that his friend not only got to fuck you first but he stayed in your head every single fucking day, the sore loser in him that so firmly believed that he could do so much better.

chan didn’t want to take it out on you, he really didn’t. but oh heavens, he was so tired of associating changbin with you.

“that’s fine,” he said with a nod, pulling his finger out of your cunt and reaching for his pants. he released the button and unzipped it, shrugging it off his thigh quickly before proceeding to tug his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out. “you won’t be thinking about him when i’m finished with you here.”

if the setting was different, he would surely have his way with you however he wanted. he would make you squirm for much longer, and he would make you beg like a fucking whore for him before he decided you are good enough to have his dick pound inside of you. but this would be quick. this has to be quick, unfortunately for chan.

he was rather confident in himself, though. he would like to think if changbin could do it blind-folded, he could definitely do it with both of his eyes open. not to mention, being able to watch your features change in the face of pleasure would do nothing but add to the filthy lust burning through his veins.

he could fuck you better.

he will fuck you better.

you didn’t miss the soft beat of his eyes matching up with yours after he aligned himself at your entrance. his gaze wavering, waiting for you to give him a cue to go. your eyes grazed past his shoulder at the door, a sense of fearful thrill bursting like fireworks in your stomach when you realize how easy it would be for people outside to hear you, and how they could look inside the window and see you two if they angle their head a certain amount.

this was exciting. nothing you have ever done before and nothing you imagined you would ever do, yet here you were with chan waiting above you, your wetness clenching at nothing impatiently.

“fuck me, chan,” you whispered, your eyes returning to him.

his heart leaped at those words, far too excited for his own good. he smiled, leaning down to your face before he huffed, “i was planning to.”

your legs twitched when he inserted himself in quickly, the stretch fast and thus, painful. but the time was ticking, you knew, so you didn’t blame him for not taking his time. the slickness in your hole was doing a fantastic job of helping him glide in and out of you smoothly, and chan had been planting butterfly kisses along your neck in an attempt to distract you from the pain of adjusting to his size.

your cunt was tightening around him, a sensation so pleasurable that it overwhelmed his senses and almost drained his sanity clean. you felt good, and the fact that you were you, the fact that he has been secretly in love with you for so long just made everything even better than he could ever imagine.

chan couldn’t think of anything else. his shameless mind only knew he wanted to keep going, he wanted to keep feeling you, he wanted to kiss you everywhere and make you feel so great he occupies your mind for the rest of the day. and he was giving in to the pleasure, leaning into the bliss and abandoned all that he has ever known to pound into you relentlessly.

the squelching sound of your pussy haunted every punch to your hole, your heavy breathing slowly turning to desperate little moans. your hands were clutching his arm just for the sake of having something to touch, feeling his prominent muscles flex under your skin, and letting it turn you on even more. and your legs flailed about until they finally wrapped around his hips and pushed him closer to you.

“ahh, chan–fuck!” you gritted out, his cock sliding along your walls quickly and creating never-ending friction. each time his tip reaches a deeper end of your hole, you feel a burst of fluttery feeling across your body. chan kept going, hitting the spot once, twice, three times until he suddenly thrust into you hard, and you let out a loud, chocked moan.

chan’s lips quirked up automatically, feeling his ego boost with that loud moan you let out. but instead of showing you his smugness, he clamped a hand over your mouth tightly and glared at you. your eyes widened as your brows furrowed, not confused as to why he shut up but annoyed that you couldn’t let out any noises at a location like this.

“you better keep quiet, baby,” he warned, thrusting into your harshly to test out his grip. your sudden moan was a muffled, but from the looks of your eyes, he could tell it would have been loud without restrictions. “you don’t need the whole floor finding out what we’re doing in here.”

you hummed out a whine, nodding obediently at him as your hands flew up to grip his hand. you didn’t try to move his hand, you let it stay over your lips and tried to navigate his hand until he gripped the sides of your jaw. chan raised a brow at you, bewildered but not opposing to making sure you shut the hell up for the remainder of this session.

his hips continued to roll against yours, and you found yourself bucking your hips up for more. the knot at your abdomen was twisting uncomfortably, feeling like it wanted nothing but to burst, so your legs tightened around his hips and kept drawing him closer to you, even though chan has physically no more space to move forward.

he kept fucking into you, his pace only picking up more and more when he could hear students shuffling and talking outside the door. time’s ticking, he has to finish off quickly now.

“shit–“ chan groaned under his breath when you suddenly clenched around him, your high approaching unexpectedly.

being unable to hear your voice sure didn’t give him any hint of when you were reaching your limit, and he was too drowned in the sensation to feel your body language. the way your legs pushed at his back, the way your hands continuously tightened around his wrist, the way your back kept arching off the desk. he couldn’t pick those up until he felt it suffocating his cock inside of you.

and his own high was racing to the finish line as well, the way your walls felt all warm and rough around him was unlike anything he has ever felt. no amount of toys could help him relish in a feeling like this, no amount of people could make him feel the way he was with you now.

it has to be your body, it has to be your cunt, it has to be you.

your whined against his palm when chan rammed into you at an even quicker pace, his lips touching your neck and you could hear him sucking in his breath. your hands flew up to the edge of the desk where you grabbed on, your back scratching against the wooden surface at the way he pounded into you. oh god, he was hitting deeper, how was he hitting deeper—fuck!

your back arched off the table suddenly, your eyes rolling up and a strangled scream barely seeping through the gaps of his fingers. you felt yourself release around him, your legs jerking and tightening around his hips at the fulfilling feeling of letting it all go. the tightness loosened up in your stomach and you felt pleasant and free.

chan continued to move, his breathing getting louder with each thrust. he could feel your cum, mixing in with the warmth of your walls and moving about around his cock. he shut his eyes when you pressed your arms around his back, holding him close to you. you pulled at his locks, stimulating his senses more, and you pressed your thighs together as you raised your legs a little higher to narrow your walls around him.

“ahh, fuck–fuck! ahh–“ he whined when he felt the bubble burst at his tip. he bottomed out inside, reaching to the hilt and finally allowing himself a satisfying release. his jaw dropped, his breath hitting against your neck as he panted for a moment before finally pulling out of you.

he didn’t leave your side, though. chan let go of your mouth so he could kiss you, his hand moving down to your hole so he could gather the dripping cum and push them back inside your pussy. pulling away from you, he looked into your eyes pointedly as he pushed his finger inside your heat, then he demanded softly, “you’re gonna sit through the lecture with my cum inside of you, hmm?”

you whimpered a little, feeling him press his finger against your walls. “yes, chan.”

“good girl,” chan smiled, running his hand through your hair and patting your head as a sign of praise.

almost immediately then, a knock sounded at the door, and you both widened your eyes at the noise.

right, classes!

scurrying off the desk, you picked up your safety shorts and pulled it back up your thighs again. you wiggled your waist to adjust your skirt before heading over to pick up your school bag. you dropped it on a chair before reaching down to grab chan’s backpack, bringing it to him with an amused smile.

“i’ll pick you up when class ends, okay?” he said as he took his bag, swinging it over his shoulders as he smiled at you. “if that’s fine with you, of course. we can have dinner together.”

you looked at him, a soft smile gracing your lips. “yeah, sure.”

he heaved a relieved sigh inwardly, hoping his nervousness didn’t seep through his facade. he reached an arm out around your shoulder and pulled you towards him, his lips briefly meeting the top of your head before pulling away and waved you a quick goodbye. he made his way out of the room, not forgetting to flick open the lights before he did so.

and, almost immediately, changbin walked into the classroom from the other direction. chan must have missed him when he walked out, because surely chan would have made a cheerful greeting and acted like he hadn’t just stuffed you full of his cum.

you stood stoic for a moment, catching his eyes and finding him stare back at you. well, while you did momentarily forgot about changbin, seeing him still made your heart pump from nervousness. damn, you really couldn’t get a moment’s of rest and think about the fact that you just had sex with chan in a classroom, huh?

to avoid staring longer at him, your lips pursed into an awkward smile as you waved at him before turning away to rummage through your bag.

but you didn’t get to do much, because only a few seconds later, his presence walked up close behind you and his hand went around your neck to give it a frighteningly familiar squeeze. your breath halted and you whimpered at the pressure he added to your bone, your hands flying up in defeat.

changbin huffed out an irritated laugh. he could recognize that whimper anywhere now, he’s replayed it so many times in his head.

he leaned close to your ear, his hot breath pricking the back of your neck dangerously and his chest pressed against your back. he spoke in a low tone, his words intending not for even the air surrounding you both.

“so you were the girl who fucked me in the closet a few weeks ago.”

you licked your lower lip and nodded. all that effort to result in this. “yeah…”

“i thought i recognized that choked moan somewhere,” he said, rolling his eyes as he recalled the awkwardness he felt when his hand left the doorknob and he stood to the side to wait.

it had taken him a second to find out why he felt icky all over his skin. he remembered your voice, and that sudden moan you let out through the door came from you.

he had his doubt, of course, something within him didn’t want it to be you, because how heartbreaking—and pathetic—would it be if he had been spending weeks hung up on your identity while you were, well, having fun in concerning locations.

he got his answers when chan walked out and you were the only person in the classroom. it has to be you; both your voice and the fact that you happened to also be in the circle that night.

there was a dramatic pause, the silence almost wrapping around you whole before he spoke again, “i’ve been looking for you everywhere. turns out you’re just here getting fucked by my friend.”

“tell me the truth,” he said, “was i better?”

you couldn’t answer. your mind simply blanked out and no thoughts were coherent at the moment. his hand deliberately pressed your neck, causing your chest to heave, and you could still feel the sticky substance sliding out your cunt and wetting up a patch at your panties. you didn’t know where to put your attention, and you felt hot all over once again.

just as changbin was about to taunt you even more, the classroom door opened with a loud bang. he quickly moved away from you and looked away, pretending to be walking off to the back of the class. but as he turned around and sat down, you found his hooded gaze was fixated on you, and you gulped at the words it told you.

you have the class period to figure out the answer to his question.

#stayverse #stray kids dark hours #stray kids smut #chan smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #skz smut #skz dark hours

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