#i’m almost twenty fucking one and anxiety still rules my life like when i was 12

[uhthor]

if anyone has anything funny or something that could cheer me up could u send it my way thanks

#liv rambles #i am actually the worst human to ever exist #i literally don’t deserve any friends like i always screw it up somehow #i just want to never get up ever again i genuinely don’t know what i’m doing here anymore #the only good people in my life who i haven’t managed to screw things up with are the ones who have never seen anything more than surface #level #and that is why i should never fucking tell anyone about my feelings or anything at all ever ever #i may have just lost someone else #someone who means the world to me and has literally improved my life over this last year #and i fucked it up yet again #i just don’t deserve anybody at all #when my brother says i’ll die alone boy is he right #i don’t deserve anyone i really don’t #and they don’t deserve me either because i am just the absolute worst #idk how to stop crying #how will i ever stop being this mentally ill and have normal adult relationships with people #if any time there is some sort of disagreement and upset i go into actual self destruct mode #i’m almost twenty fucking one and anxiety still rules my life like when i was 12 #i’m so fucking sick of it #i just want to delete myself really #i don’t deserve to be anywhere near anybody #everyone is better off

[theringers]

friends with benefits - charles leclerc

summary: type A planner best friend lives with no thoughts head empty best friend and they decide to start sleeping together

request: 37 , 70, 78 w charles😃

prompts: 37) “Please? I'll be good, I promise!" 70) “we’re just…friends.” “friends don’t do this type of shit!” 78) “Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.”

a/n: charles, head empty no thoughts just his hot roommate and his inability to keep things to himself

warnings: nsfw, 18+, angst kinda, friends to fuck buddies, oral sex

“Could you uhhhhh do me a favor?” You asked Charles. The fuzzy blanket was draped over both of you and he was about to press play on the movie.

His eyes rolled. “What do you need, my love?” He asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Can you maybe make some popcorn?” You tried to slow your words down a bit, for some reason thinking he would be more inclined to say yes if you asked like that.

He exhaled loudly. “Fine.” He tossed the blanket over to you so he could get up off the couch. “But only because now you’ve got that thought in my mind and I want it.”

“If doing things for yourself instead of me makes you feel better, that’s okay with me.” You smiled. This was a typical weeknight for the two of you.

You were a self proclaimed movie critic. Charles just got stuck with a self proclaimed movie critic as a roommate, but it made for some entertaining nights.

The two of you met in high school and immediately formed a bond. Everything between you two was easygoing and laid back, which he loved. He was never a huge people person or party type and neither were you.

You found peace in each other’s silent company and eventually realized you had more in common than you first thought. That following summer, you did practically everything together. Charles had a couple girlfriends here and there and you had a couple boyfriends as well, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing ever stuck.

College rolled around and you weren’t sure what to do. You wanted to stay in Monaco close to your family, but you just couldn’t live at home anymore. Lucky for you, Charles offered to let you move into his spare bedroom until you could make a decision. It had been years and you were still in that spare bedroom. The thought of moving out and doing something different hadn’t crossed your mind since the day you moved in.

“Do you want butter or no butter?” He asked from the kitchen, hands full of popcorn bags.

“Come on is that even a question?”

“Right. Butter. Lots of it.” He threw the bag into the microwave and it started to pop.

He came back with a bowl full of steaming popcorn and handed it to you.

“Be careful it’s,” he looked at you to see your mouth wide open and steam coming out, “hot.”

“Almost hotter than you,” you said once you caught your breath.

He rolled his eyes and fake laughed. “Hilarious, y/n.”

“I’m being serious.”

“C’mon, we’ve talked about this.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re hot,” you said. Every time this was brought up, he got so flustered. Which was why you continued to joke around with him and flirt with him. He would never act on it.

“Y/n…. I’m gonna go to bed if you keep this up.” He was annoyed.

“I’m sorry. Please stay? I’ll be good, I promise.” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fine, but you gotta stop,” he said, pulling your legs onto his lap so you could lounge more comfortably.

A rom-com was playing on the TV and the sound of munching on popcorn was filling the room.

A long distance relationship played out on the screen. Lots of phone calls, lots of phone sex, lots of jerking off to each other’s photos. You shifted in your seat, trying to seem casual and not uncomfortable.

“Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.” You stopped shifting and looked at Charles.

“So much for ‘we’ve talked about this’.” You held up air quotes. “Care to elaborate?” He was known for saying out of pocket things. Sometimes you weren’t sure if he fully thought things through before he said them.

“I mean, not really. The movie just reminded me of it.”

You couldn’t think of a response quick enough so he continued to talk. “You always say whatever’s on your mind so I thought I might try it out.”

“You don’t do that enough already?”

“I’m trying to be more honest.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. “I applaud you for that. But you can’t just leave me hanging like this.”

“Don’t hate me, that’s all I’m going to say.” His hand rubbed up and down your shins that were resting on his lap.

“I could never hate you, Charles.”

“Last night when you took a shower, you left the bathroom door wide open. I was just walking back to my room from the kitchen, I didn’t mean to-”

You laughed and interrupted him. “Charles, it’s okay. That’s my fault.”

“I just glanced, I promise. But I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind. And my cock was still really hard after a while.”

“You knew I was awake, you should have come to my room,” you said. It sounded good in theory but if you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t know what to do if he showed up at your bedroom door with a boner.

“We’re just friends though. Friends don’t do that type of shit.” He took a deep breath and looked off in the distance. Anything to avoid eye contact.

“Says who?” He looked at you and tilted his head in confusion. “A lot of friends do that type of shit. There’s even a word for it.”

“Have you thought about this before?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t… Charles, we’re two young twenty somethings that live together. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like if we were sleeping together.”

“I don’t mean this in a bad way but I honestly didn’t think about it until I saw you.”

“Maybe it’s just the hopeless romantic in me.” You had thought about what a perfect storyline it would make for you two to sleep together but never the reality of actually getting into bed with him. Now that made you nervous.

“More like the horny romantic”

“Very funny…” You tossed a piece of popcorn at him and he swatted it away.

“So, are we doing this thing?” He turned his attention from the TV to you.

“Tell me you didn’t just actually ask me that question.” He was blunt and never beat around the bush.

“I did, and I would like an answer, please.” You wanted to smack that stupid smile off of his face for how he was making you feel.

“What’s this thing?” He needed to spell it out.

“Are you,” he pointed to you, “going to let me,” his finger moved to himself, “inside of you?”

You burst out laughing. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. We need to set some ground rules for this.”

“Rules?” He didn’t look like he was a fan of rules. And as his roommate, you knew he wasn’t a fan of them. Just ask the groceries you’ve gone shopping for two months in a row.

“Our friendship, our cohabitation, you know. I’m not just going to let you go willy nilly on me without making sure you aren’t going to leave me friendless or homeless after.” Nothing could be done with you unless it was carefully planned. All possible outcomes had to be thought through.

“I would never leave you friendless or homeless.”

“Even if I was the worst person at sex, in the world, ever?”

“I highly doubt you’re the worst, but even if you were.”

“You’d still fuck me, even if everyone in the entire world was better than me. Damn I’m lucky.”

“Here’s a rule for you. You need to tell me how it feels. I’ll fuck you however you want to be fucked so you better tell me when something feels good.” Charles said.

“I can do that. If you like something I do, tell me. If you don’t, tell me.” You talked a big game but telling Charles how he made you feel sexually made your spine tingle, and you weren’t sure if it was anxiety or desire.

“I doubt there’s anything you can do to my body that I won’t like.” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. He was a guy after all.

“You wanna bet?” You asked, lunging at him jokingly.

“Sure, I’d like to see you try.”

“I guess I will, then.” You just needed time to plan it first.

He stood up and held out his hand for you to take. “Now that we’ve talked about it, I can’t get it off my mind.”

“You want to do this, right now?” Panic set in. This was too sudden.

“Right now,” he said, confidently. “If, that’s what you want, of course.”

“Okay.” You followed him into the hallway, bypassing your bedroom and ending up in his.

You took a few shy steps around, like you’d never been in there before. “Do you want to get on top or do you want me to?”

“Y/n…” He needed you to just relax and let go.

“Right, right, let’s just do it.” You took a step forward and he grabbed your face in his hands. Your lips moved with his, feeling soft and warm. There was only so much in your life you could plan. This was never part of it.

He slowly guided you to his bed and gently pushed you backwards. His shirt slid over his head and you admired his body, looking at him in a different light. He never took his shirt off around you with sexual intentions but this was new. And fun.

You smiled at him, both of you acknowledging what you were about to do. It made you explode inside thinking about how much you were enjoying this, letting someone else take control and letting go. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, you thought. Snap out of it.

“Before we start, is there anything you really don’t like?” He asked, reaching for the button of your denim shorts. You nodded side to side, giving him permission to pull the shorts down your legs.

He immediately pulled your thong aside and slipped a finger between your folds. He smiled feeling the wetness. “Thinking about us fucking is turning you on, isn’t it?”

“Don’t embarrass me,” you shot him a look and he understood.

“I’m not embarrassing you. It’s sexy.” He kneeled between your legs on the floor.

“Well, keep it to yourself,” you said.

“Why would I keep it to myself when I have physical proof that thinking about us is turning you on?” One of his fingers easily slid inside of you and your hips shifted as you rolled your eyes at him. “Is this okay?” He asked, concerned by your movements.

“Yes,” you said, unsure of what else to say. You didn’t want to give him any more ammo to make fun of you. You told each other everything but this was one side of you he never saw, and you didn’t think he ever would. Vulnerability at its finest, but you agreed to this.

His finger moved in and out of you and the sounds of your wet pussy made you want to cover your face and hide. He added a second and slowly curled his fingers up to hit your g-spot. A soft moan escaped your lips despite the fact that you were trying hard to keep them to yourself.

“Tell me how it feels.” He said.

“It feels,” you took a moment to breathe in, “so good.” He used his other hand to play with your clit, causing you more pleasure. You were looking at the ceiling, finding it hard to acknowledge that Charles was the one making you feel like this. If you squeezed your eyes shut hard enough, maybe this wouldn’t be something you needed to worry about.

A euphoric feeling began to build in your stomach, your legs slowly going numb in the best way possible. You continued to try and hold in your moans but when you hit your climax, everything was uncontrollable. Your body jerked and moans fell as you rode out your high.

You opened your eyes to see Charles pulling his fingers out and smiling. He made you feel that way and while you lay half naked on his bed post-orgasm, it was starting to feel okay. How much more vulnerable could you get with him than this?

He stood up and pulled his sweatpants off, his hard cock springing out of his cotton boxers. Your jaw dropped and you couldn’t help but stare as he stroked himself, preparing for you. He noticed, but ignored it, granting your request of not embarrassing you. The look he shot you was enough to know that he was aware of your stares.

“I’m only gonna say it one more time,” he said, leaning on top of you with his hands on either side of your head. “You need to tell me how it feels, or I’m going to start talking really dirty with you.”

You laughed, feeling more relaxed than before. “I almost want to keep quiet on purpose just to see that.”

He dipped his head in disappointment. “Not funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny.”

“You are, but I want to make you feel good. I’d rather know then instead of you telling me I sucked after.”

“Okay, okay,” you obliged. He nodded and positioned himself at your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside of you.

You had to adjust to his size - his dick was nothing like his fingers. He didn’t give you much time before he started moving and you didn’t even care. He felt so good inside of you and seeing his body on top of you was putting you at ease rather than stressing you out, like you had expected it to.

His head rested in the crook of your neck, giving you perfect access to his ear. Almost like he did it on purpose, to make you more comfortable. You didn’t have to look at him in the eyes and admit how good he was making you feel. “Your dick feels so good,” you whispered in his ear and he grunted in response.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he said into your ear, slightly nibbling on the lobe.

His hips moved rhythmically while you lifted your feet onto his back to change the angle. You couldn’t help but let more moans slip out at the feeling. “I think I’m gonna cum,” you said, quietly.

“Let go,” he said followed by a few expletives. His pelvis ground into you, creating a sensation on your clit you’ve never experienced.

You felt your second orgasm of the night build up as he continued to fuck you, keeping the same pace. You held your hands on his back and let moans fall to his ear making sure he knew how good you felt.

He pulled out of you and your body felt like deadweight. You were glued to the bed and couldn’t find the energy to get up. “How was that?” He asked. Of course he couldn’t give you a second to recover before opening his mouth.

“Great,” you smiled, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Did you finish?” You sure hadn’t felt him cum inside of you and you don’t think he wore a condominium either.

“No, but I just wanted to make sure you felt good.” He picked his sweatpants up off the floor and went to put his boxers back on before you stopped him.

“Unacceptable. I’m not going to let you jerk off thinking about me two nights in a row. Especially not after I was just naked in your bed.” Your post-orgasm confidence was showing when you dropped to your knees in front of him and took his still hard cock in your hand.

Slick juices still covered it, making it easier for you once you took him in your mouth. He was bigger than you expected, so you started swirling your tongue around the tip while your hand worked at the rest of him. “Shit,” you could hear him say.

You slowly took more of him, hollowing out your cheeks in response to his moans. His hand found the back of your head but rested there, not wanting to pressure you for more but he couldn’t resist once you fit almost all of him in your mouth.

The sounds he made caused butterflies in your stomach knowing that you were the sole reason for those sounds. His grip got tighter on you and he started to thrust into you when you felt a warm liquid shoot down your throat.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he grunted while you took every last drop. You stood up and took a step back, swiping your finger over your bottom lip.

He looked at you with the same eyes you looked at him after he finished fucking you. “So, uh,” he said. “Where do we go from here?”

You nervously looked around the room. “Should we finish the movie?”

“Great idea.”

You both put your clothes back on and sat back on the couch. “Let’s talk about that.” He never knew when to shut up, but sometimes it was for the better.

“What about it?”

“Did you like it? Should we do it again? Do you want to move out?” You laughed at his last question.

“It was really good,” you said, your thoughts wandering to just a few moments ago. You wouldn’t mind having him on top of you again. “We might as well.”

“Just one more thing,” he said. “Don’t fall in love with me.” He smiled and let out a giggle. You weren’t sure if he was being serious or not, but you laughed along too.

#f1 imagine #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #smut prompts #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #cl

[thefanficmonster]

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it. 

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went? 

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him. 

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

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[shurisneakers]

shut in [epilogue]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, ptsd, swearing

Word count: 4k

A/N: annnnd we’re done :)) thank you to my resident bully @midnightsunfae for really getting this fic off the ground and helping with the planning. ily upo and thank you to everyone who’s read this series over the 5 months it’s been going on. it’s meant the absolute world to me :’)

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Your fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, an indicator of the nervousness that was building to a crescendo in your chest.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked, hand placed gently on your forearm.

You nodded, eyes downcast. If you looked at him, you wouldn’t be able to find it in yourself to follow through with it.

“I am,” you said quietly, swallowing to get rid of the lump in your throat.

“Okay,” he confirmed, letting his arm drop gently.

Ten minutes to go. You took a sip of water nervously. The glass had already found itself shifting back and forth on the table in search of the perfect place. It was a fruitless quest anyway.

The door was painted a dark green, steps leading up to it from the pavement.

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” you asked quietly, standing a stair below him in apprehension. Neither of you had contacted him or sent a message, just showed up at his place exhausted and covered in a thin layer of dirt.

“I know he won’t.” Sam raised his fist to knock thrice, a pause before knocking two more times.

A code.

He turned around slightly, checking to see if you were fine. The longer you stood out there, the more afraid you were of someone spotting the both of you, putting an end to your life before it even began. You had a feeling that paranoia would continue for a long time.

The door swung open, revealing a tall man with blonde hair leaning against the doorway with one arm. There was a nick above his eyebrow, an old scar that hadn’t faded over time. Even though his other hand was concealed behind the door, you could tell that he was holding something by the way his muscles were clenched. Years of training wouldn’t disappear overnight.

"Sam." Surprise overtook his face in a second. "You're alive."

"Don't sound so happy, I can't handle it." Sam rolled his eyes, an affectionate smile on his face. "This is Y/N, we need a place to stay."

“It’s just been a while since I heard from you, man. Coming from a hit?” Riley didn’t think twice about moving aside, scrutinising dried blood on your person as you walk past. “Nice to meet you, I’m Riley.”

It was a cane in his hand. Sam’s mention of his limp flashed in your mind.

You gave him a small wave and a quiet re-introduction of yourself, following Sam into the house.

“You could say that.” Sam paused, a hand on Riley’s shoulder as he says something out of your ear shot to him.

Riley’s face turned stoic immediately, a nod of his head and a deep exhale soon following. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” You pressed your lips together in a straight line with a corner quirked upwards, a half smile of sorts.

“Bathroom’s down the hall, to the right.” He pointed out the direction. “I’m getting you some food. Gumbo still your thing, Wilson?”

“Anything other than peanut butter.”

Riley was a blessing you could have never prepared for; knowing exactly what you both would need and anticipating emotions you had no idea you’d be feeling. For someone who had guests show up completely uninvited to crash on his couch, he was ready as ever, given that he had been through the same thing a while ago.

It was difficult. Fuck that, it was one of the hardest things to go; not pretending like everything around you would fall into soon and that you would be fine because you had to. You had worked too damn hard for you not to be.

But you knew things weren’t going to be fine right off the bat and it would be foolish to think it was.

“Sam, look at me,” you commanded gently, but there was an edge of firmness to your tone. You were sitting on the bench near the entrance of the park.

“I’m sorry, things were going good and I thought-” He shook his face that was hiding in his palm, elbows resting on his knees.

His attacks didn’t come nearly as frequently as yours. It was easy to think that he had no trauma just because he learnt how to deal with it better.

“Look at me, Sammy.” It was just a walk in the park, a stroll that should have lasted twenty minutes tops. You had been on that trail before for the same purpose but something triggered him today, someone’s gaze who lingered too long on the both of you.

He clenched his fists, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Breathe with me.” You exaggerated the movements to have him follow, a system the both of you had come up with when anxiety attacks used to hit at random. A temporary solution to an aftermath that would go on for hours, days even.

It took him a few staggered breaths to get there, finally falling into routine with you. He could feel his heartbeat slow to what it was but the pit in his stomach wouldn’t subside for a while.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” you reassured, still making sure he was breathing with you. You were nervous too and your eyes were still darting about to survey your surroundings, but he needed you at that moment. “We’re safe. We’re okay.”

“No one’s here,” he mumbles, interlacing your fingers and bringing it to his forehead to lean against your hand.

“We’re okay,” you repeated, giving him the space he needed. “We’re okay.”

“Will someone be joining you?” The waiter prodded softly. If it wasn’t your incessant tapping at the table, the clammy palms and constant checking of your watch was a clear giveaway that you could use a bit of kindness that day.

“Yeah, any minute now.” You smiled at her. She simply nodded, refilling your glass of water before leaving you alone.

You looked at your watch and sighed.

Seven minutes.

Things were fine. Things were good.

Sam and you were… undefined. Labels almost seemed too constrictive for now and it wasn’t like the both of you didn’t know what the other felt. It was kind. It was soft. Sometimes you kissed his cheek when the sunlight bounced off his face while he watered the succulents and the smile he gave you was addictive. Other times he snaked an arm around your waist and leaned his head on your shoulder while you watched the street from the kitchen window.

It made you happy, and so you tried to force away the stem of doubt that creeped into your heart.

Riley had introduced the concept of movie nights and the occasional mob movie would make it in there just to poke fun at. He showed you around the city, inviting you to go grocery shopping with him at the farmers market, the best places to get a glimpse of the music scene or to subtly point out potential date night spots.

He was a genuinely nice guy, and if you thought Sam was fun to hang out with, you were not prepared for the both of them together. You could tell why Sam adored him.

“Y/N, I don’t know how you stayed with him for all that time and didn’t murder him in his sleep.” Riley glared at Sam who had once again left his collection of music CDs strewn around on a couch. It was all in jest; it was well known that Sam found an anchor in music that kept him up late at night for a sense of calm.

“It was a close call sometimes,” you added playfully, giving Sam a grin.

“You weren’t exactly easy to survive with either.” He scoffed. “How many times did we watch Megamind in a row? Eight?”

“You wouldn’t stop watching Die Hard,” you accused, arms crossed over your chest. “It was payback.”

“You made the rule saying we couldn’t watch things more than twice in a row and you broke it first.”

“I’m gonna go,” Riley interjected. “But y’all keep at this. I heard it’s good for your soul.”

“Stay there,” Sam demanded, pointing to where he was standing a second ago. “You’re gonna be play judge since you started this shit.”

“I really don’t want to.” He shook his head, staying put nonetheless, amusement clear as day on his face.

“The laundry.”

“The dishes.”

You both narrowed your eyes at each other. His argument didn’t hold a match to yours.

“You know what, I was wrong,” Riley announced to no one in particular. “I’m pretty sure you guys would kill each other under any other circumstance.”

The smile on your face faltered but you straightened it back out with a clearing of your throat before firing a comeback.

It was barely a second, almost unnoticeable. But Sam caught it.

Four minutes.

Almost time.

The tapping became more intense, and the rate at which you pulled out your phone to check the time increased.

Fuck, this was a bad idea. How were you supposed to behave with him after all this time?

Something was wrong. Something was off.

Sam wasn’t blind to it. He could see it under the smile you eased into at game night, the complaining when too much food was ordered for three people to eat, the good natured teasing when he rolled over to your side of the bed at night to steal your blanket.

Something was eating at you, gnawing at you from the inside.

His suspicion was confirmed when you whispered at 2am one night to what you thought was an asleep partner that you wanted to move out. Find a place of your own.

His stomach dropped instantly but he didn’t so much as move a muscle.

“I need to get out. I need to have a life,” you sniffed, doing your best not to wake him up as you traced circles into his skin lightly. “I don’t know what it’s like to be independent. I won’t know unless I figure it out myself.”

The air had a chill to it and it was one of the times you had asked him to sleep in the guest bedroom with you instead of on his own, knowing that it was one of those nights where you could use a little extra warmth.

“Even when we were in there I couldn’t stop thinking about whether this thing between us was just because we were forced to stay together. You said it wasn’t, and I know that but I can’t help but think-” Your voice cracked. “Would you come back to me if things were different?”

He didn’t answer, even though he knew what he wanted to say with all the certainty in the world. Your fingers continued to draw on his skin. He continued to let you.

Sam didn’t even bring up the conversation that morning, or that week. Instead, he held you a bit closer whenever he could and gave you the space to hopefully open up to him on your own time, letting you know that he’d be there to listen.

It took a while. You both were in the middle of watching a movie that wasn’t Die Hard when you told him that you needed to talk to him about something. The hesitancy in your voice and the fixation your fingers had with the hem of your sweater was painful to witness.

He understood, of course. He always did. That you needed to experience what it was like to live, not survive. That decades of living with other kids, living under an abuser, living in a safehouse for months, was restrictive and suffocating and you needed to find what made you happy.

And so did he. It was something both of you had to do eventually, exit the bubble you had been staying in under such ardent protection for those two months.

Riley was wonderfully supportive of it, vowing to find you the best apartment that New Orleans had to offer. You didn’t doubt it.

His place had been colourful and bright and everything you could have asked for after the monotone walls you were used to. But it wasn’t yours.

A few weeks later you had moved out. Sam left a lingering kiss on your forehead, a sign to say that he’d be here whenever, whatever.

You made a Shakira joke. He laughed.

A completely fresh new start. If you failed now, it was all on you.

And what a terrifying thought that was.

It had been four months since you had left Riley’s apartment behind.

Four months since you had seen either of them.

The cafe was starting to feel too small for this event. Too intimate, too-

When the bell above the cafe chimes, something at the back of your mind instantly wakes up, sending you on high alert.

“Y/N?” he called out from behind you.

You knew he’d be early.

“Sam.” You breathed out, standing up to face him.

Video calls didn’t do him any justice. He had a particular glow to him, an aura of confidence that wasn’t there the last time you saw him. His beard was neatly trimmed and the smile that tugged at his lips the minute you caught his eye was beautiful.

You didn’t realise how different he looked until the time apart. Months of makeshift workouts and peanut butter as your only source of protein had done a number on him. You remembered him being leaner, and what you now realised was the constant burden of fatigue on his face.

“You look good.” An understatement escaped you, but he did.

He had a deep blue shirt on that hugged him in all the right places. Months of seeing him only black and grey had you damn near drooling when he wore other colours after you got out.

Not that you were staring, but his biceps had definitely made a wonderful return.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Sam sent you a smile that instantly put you at ease. “Independence looks good on you, sweetheart.”

You gave a small laugh, gesturing for him to take a seat. Should you have hugged him? Shook his hand? Kissed hi-

“It’s been a while,” he politely interrupted your overthinking. “How are things going?”

You let out a small breath. It was a big question, one that you had answered over text and call a few times but it was different now. He was in front of you now and you couldn’t bullshit the way you used to on call occasionally.

“Weird,” you admitted. “I don’t know what to do with myself now that I have all this time.”

“It takes some gettin’ used to.” He nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair.

A lot of your time went into trying new hobbies. Knitting, pottery, drawing- anything that you could get your hands on. Things didn’t always catch on, some discarded just after the first week. Others stuck, bringing you bits of triumph every time you moved forward with your newfound skill.

“You still seein’ your therapist?” He flashed a smile at the waitress who filled his glass of water.

Ah, yes. Dr. Bishop had been one of the first people you sought out.

“Yeah.” You took a sip of water. “See her weekly.”

You still had money left over from all the hit jobs that you had done. As much as you wanted to leave every inkling of that life behind, you needed the cash to live. You had enough for the time being, but you knew that eventually you had to start working; if not for the money then for the peace of mind.

“How’s that goin’?”

“She thinks I talk in elaborate metaphors. The gang’s what I call my toxic family, he was my abusive father, stuff like that.”

There were moments where you thought you saw someone you knew standing at a corner, vendors giving you icy looks from across the street, footsteps outside your door that seemed too damn loud. But nothing ever came of it.

“Thanks for the tip, by the way.” You extended a smile to him in appreciation for the idea.

“Worked with my therapist, figured it would be the same with yours.” He shrugged casually. It wasn’t like you wanted to lie to her, and you weren’t. But some things were better left in the dark.

“But I think it’s helping.” You exhaled deeply, eyes downcast. “The nightmares are reducing.”

“That’s a lot of progress.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward in pride.

Several feelings erupted from that look, some that you’d spend the whole day revelling in if you didn’t force yourself to move on.

“How about you?” you diverted the subject back to him. “How’s Riley?”

“He says he misses ya.” Sam laughed. “Says he can’t handle me alone, that he needs you back to save him.”

“What have you been doing to that poor man?” you teased, easing back into your seat. “He was fine when I left him.”

“He’s got a fancy new job now and it’s been going to his head. Needed a little humbling.”

“You’re not going too hard on him, are you?” Even though you knew he wasn’t, it was fun to make sure.

“Nah, I’d say it’s just about the right amount.” Sam grinned and you felt the familiar flutter return to your stomach. “I’ve been doing good. Working on getting my license.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that going?” You were thrilled when he said he was going to look into becoming a youth counselor, knowing that it was something he had been genuinely wanting to do for ages.

“With my background, or lack of it, it’s a little trickier than I thought it would be,” he divulges a bit more seriously. “Riley’s been pulling a few strings and I got a few contacts but it’s gonna take some more time.”

You bit your lip, worry rising for him. He deserved it, he earned it. It fucking sucked that it wasn’t going to be an easy, direct path.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said quietly, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his in reassurance.

The contact brings with it a small spark. You wondered if he still felt it.

“Yeah. We will.” He sent you a soft smile at your action, not making any effort to move it. “You been on any dates lately?”

You let out a snort at that. “Loads. Have fellas lining up at every corner for me.”

“I bet.” He’s more bold, a bit more open than he was in the first month when you both got out. “How many of them do I have to fight off?”

“I’d say six as a rough estimate.” Your expression mimicked one of consideration. “I hope you’ve been getting your hours in at the gym.”

“I’ll kick it up a notch,” he promised, hands raised in surrender.

“You better. We’re supposed to go for laser-tag.” A dumb callback to a joke he made on one of your last days there.

“Or paintball.” He remembered. It made you unnecessarily giddy. “I added an escape room to the list too.”

“Hilarious,” you fired at him, rolling your eyes slightly but the happiness on your face proved otherwise.

His laughter died down eventually, paving the way for the comfortable silence that lingered between you both. Your eyes fell down to where your hand still held his, biting your lip to conceal a smile.

“Y/N,” he called out, pulling your gaze back to his. “Jokes aside… how are you?”

You let out a breath at his question. You knew it was coming.

“Riley found me an apartment,” you murmured.

Sam looked up from his phone. “Yeah?”

“It’s a nice place. Lots of sunlight. Quiet too.” You toyed with your fingers. “But it’s about an hour away. More if you consider traffic.”

Sam set his phone down gently on the bedside table, indicating that you had his full attention.

“I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you, because I’m not. I wouldn’t, I just-”

“Hey,” he interrupted calmly, twisting his body to face you. “I don’t think you’re abandoning me. If this is what you need, then you should do it.”

“I don’t know if this is what I need. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’ve never been-” the frustration in your voice only increased as you went on. “-I don’t even know if this is going to work. What if I hate it?”

“Finding out what you hate is just as important as what you like, I think.” He watched you toy with the fidget square he had gotten you. “And you know that if you don’t feel like it, then you can come back here at any moment.”

“I know.” It was a comforting thought. A safety net.

“But would this make you happy?” That caught you by surprise.

It wasn’t something you had thought of. You thought of the negative consequences, the devastating effects it could have on you, how it could be the worst possible decision you’d ever make.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, a new anxiety setting in. “I guess we’ll see.”

You liked the neighbours who played the piano way too loud at 2am, the really terrible coffee at the therapist’s office and the feeling the paper plane on your dresser gave you when you occasionally looked at it.

You didn’t like how hot the apartment could get, especially during the afternoon, or the guy who sold magazines down the street who cursed at everyone for no reason, or the gentrified Indian food they served at the mall.

But Sam was right. Figuring out what you didn’t like was just as beautiful a journey as figuring out what you did.

“I’m happy.” You breathed out. “Or I'm working towards being happy. But it’s there.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. Simply slipped his palm under yours to lift your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m proud of you.”

If anyone could feel the heat that rose to your face they would probably think you had a fever.

The fear that you had, the one of what things would be like if you weren’t forced to survive in a confined space together, had begun to fade the minute he called out your name that day.

It was Sam. Your Sam.

You shake yourself out of your train of thought with a small smile, making a move to gather up your belongings without letting go of his hand for a second.

“Well, c’mon then. Those paintballs aren’t going to shoot themselves.”

“Are you saying this is a date?” There was a smirk on his face that wasn’t there a minute ago.

“Would you still consider it one once I annihilate you?” You tilted your head in a challenge.

“That would never happen, first of all.” He scoffed. “Second… I was thinking that maybe we could do something normal for a change.”

That had you more interested than the prospect of adventure sports. You had enough of it for a lifetime, frankly speaking.

“Lead the way, Cinnamon.” He only rolled his eyes at the nickname, sending you a vaguely threatening look. You just laughed.

“This place got good coffee?” He looked around at the establishment and its patrons.

“One of the best.”

“Then I don’t see why we have to go anywhere else,” he offered and you nodded, relaxing back into your place with the same sense of warmth in your heart that only intensified with his proposal.

He raised his hand up to flag the server, the same girl who had been helping you out since you got there, asking for two menus.

The smile he sent her was infectious. It was good.

“Sam,” you began quietly. “I missed you.”

His eyes softened, the sunlight reflecting in it making it shine like dravite. “I missed you, too.”

“Ready to order?” The waitress stands beside you with a notepad.

He looked at you and you nodded with a smile.

Things were different. You were different.

And he still came back to you.

--fin--

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <3

thank you so much for reading!

#sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #mcu fic #sam fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson series #falcon #falcon x reader #the falcon x reader #hitman!sam wilson #hitman!au #shut in fic #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #sam wilson #the falcon #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam imagine

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye V — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 9k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

The new routine of embedding her older brother into their lives again became somewhat casual in a fortnight. Though the presence of their ‘guest’ now created a significant rift between the new couple especially when it came to certain less than elegant activities. Not that they did not try of course.

One week into the modified living condition, Jungkook and Belle had been chatting at the bar which now mysteriously had an abnormally good stock of fruit juice compared to actual alcohol. A few instances where the drug lord would pull out a glass of cloudy apple juice creating some suspicious looks from his clients. Apparently Master Jeon was now going on a cleanse from alcohol for a while to prolong his rule over the empire.

The innocent conversation turned to absentminded touches, fingers intertwining and standing dangerously close together so Jungkook could smell her coconut shampoo. One peck turned to a deeper kiss and completely by mistake, Belle jumped on the counter with her now slightly favourite crime lord between her legs, his rough hand sneaking underneath her skirt and his lips nibbling on her neck.

Of course this was the perfect time for Taehyung to decide for a walk finding a criminal fooling around with his little sister while she giggled.

Belle practically flew off the counter almost twisting Jungkooks’ hand and simply put, the two decided to keep it more on the down low next time.

Another week passed and the cartel had been going through some brewing tension with the authorities after a new mayor was elected. Which meant Jungkook barely showed up in the bedroom to sleep and when he did come to the bedroom, it was to work more at the study table.

Belle on the other hand now sat in the designing level of Madame Saito with her large glasses, a red sweater dress to match the confusing mixture of cool and warm. Long hair tied up in a loose bun that lobbed to the side a little when she lowered her head to focus on the little details of the blue hydrangea pattern across white silk.

She approved Seokjins’ offer of becoming his designer for the Sangria House so they could conjoin the Spring Line with the angels’ attire. As much as it ignited a tiny hint of suspicion on the owners’ intentions, Saito advised that it was a powerful business decision. Being a designer of one of the biggest establishments in the city could boost her reputation as a sole businesswoman. Instead of just being Jeon Jungkooks’ fiancée or Saitos’ protégé.

Most of the Spring Line designs were already displayed on mannequins behind her, few of them approved for the runway while others still needed more detailing.

Her thumb already pricked a few times but she grew a good resistance for it at this point carefully creating gradients on the embroidered flowers. Belle quickly learned the importance of clothes in the Sangria House. Even though it was kind of ironic considering the type of establishment.

Angels wearing white fabric were meant to be the ones still in ‘training’, red meant available for entertainment both casual or carnal, lavender represented angels who were trained in more daring acts for entertainment especially ones that were erotic. Then there were the gold angels; extremely qualified in all kinds of entertainment but were already ‘taken’. They were married to someone but still had to entertain customers for a living income. If a customer wanted to spend more intimate time with this angel, it would take the price of a mansion which only one or two clients have ever really paid.

After hearing all this, Belle felt a little silly just calling it a brothel considering how much detail went into orchestrating the whole system down to their clothes.

“Belle!”

Her hand immediately stilled staring up at the figure in a vibrant yellow pantsuit walking towards the working table.

Saitos’ eyes flickered down to the sewing pattern, a smile creeping on her red lips. “I thought you said you weren’t good at embroidery.”

The younger female chuckled nervously poking the needle into the fabric. “Not as good as how you do it.”

“I was forced to sew since I was seven.” She laughed. “Don’t let my younger self being oppressed by toxic femininity stop you from believing you can’t do it now.” She joked, patting her shoulder lightly with her gaze focused on the pattern. “All you need to do is just cut out little loose threads.” Finger gently pointed towards the little threads poking out of the design. “Always make sure it’s smooth. Sometimes when a few parts are imperfect, you can add little extra pieces over top that match the shade of the embroidery design.”

Belle nodded, eyes following wherever Saitos’ finger moved.

Then the senior designer stopped herself. “Oh! Mrs. Jeon is waiting downstairs, she has some news about your engagement.” She straightened up, fixing her blazer before gesturing over to the stairs.

Her words took a moment to sink into her mind before she pulled the hair band out of her bun and tried to make it look presentable again. Glasses placed carefully on the table while the work in progress now supervised by Saito.

Almost rushing down the stairs, Belle came face to face with the woman who wore a body hugging lavender midi skirt and a matching blazer. A smile quickly stretched across her red lips as Boyoung held onto her hands excitedly.

“I’m sorry to disturb you during work but I got too excited.” She giggled, holding up her left hand to admire the ring wrapped around it as if she had never seen it before. “It’s about the wedding.”

Heart raced against her ribcages but Belle tried to keep her expressions calm. “What—what about the wedding?”

“The date, of course!” Boyoung laughed, swinging their arms again. “See we have been saving for Jungkooks’ wedding since his nineteenth birthday. Twenty one is the traditional age to marry in our family.”

Explained the constant suitors Jungkook had to tolerate. Something Belle could relate to. Her parents had been talking about her marriage since she was thirteen because it was a good way for them to gain money. Or to get rid of her. Either way she found herself having one big thing in common with the man. “That’s very nice of you.” Nice was not the proper word Belle wanted to use but Boyoung had proved to the nicest person she met in this new world. She was not going to ruin that safety.

She nodded in acknowledgement. “Since we have more than enough money saved up for the event. I wanted to tell you that we could have the wedding in a month.”

Blood chilled in her whole body struggling to keep her smile up to such a point where it was just her lips curled up while her eyes widened a little. “A month?” She chuckled nervously.

“I know it seems a little quick…” Boyoung admitted while lowering her head for a split second.

Quick was one way to describe a thousand crates dropping right on top of you while you were just working on a pretty dress.

“But it’s good to keep up with tradition.” She nodded mostly to herself, quickly giving her a bright smile like she forced it out of her after a mental pep talk. “And you two already love for each other so it shouldn’t be too hard to fathom.”

Love.

That fucking word again. Everything just came crashing back to her as the ring felt like it was suffocating her finger until it fell off. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t real… those three words swirled around in her mind as she watched the joyful smile adorn Jungkooks’ aunt. It was a game…a deal to protect her family and her own life.

Strange how the two were thinking about the same thing but one had a grey cloud and the other had sunshine.

“Of course.” Belle smiled again a little weakly but the older females’ excitement seemed to mask any suspicion. Admittedly, sparks of interest did fly between the fresh new pair but truthfully it never moved deeper than a sexual attraction. They stopped being rude to each other and grew quite successful in pretending to be a happy engaged couple. Behind closed doors, there were smiles, maybe a little flutter in her belly whenever she saw him but—love?

No.

Love was sacrificing her entire chance at a proper relationship with a happy marriage and children so she could protect Taehyung. What Belle and Jungkook had was not love itself but a consequence of loving someone far too much to lose them.

With that thought, her pounding heart hardened. This was all for the best. The deal is simple. Marry Jungkook and be the perfect wife while Taehyung is given all the resources to recover back to a better version of himself again. What was the point of worrying so much about marriage anyway? Her career showed so much potential, Belle probably would have ended up a single business woman like Saito.

To put it more accurately, this deal was perfect. No one pressured her about marriage, Taehyung was healing and her career moved smoothly.

“So we’ll do it at my mansion then, yes?”

Boyoungs’ voice breaking into the barrier of her thoughts pulled Belle back into reality and she instinctively gave the older another grin. “Yes…your mansion is beautiful, Mrs. Jeon.” She nodded. “It’s the—perfect place for a wedding.” Perfection seemed to be all she could gain at this point.

“You’ve made a desperate aunt very happy.” She joked, patting her cheek. “Now I’ve kept you away from work long enough, we’ll talk soon.”

Belle led the woman across the boutique to the exit where her car awaited, allowing the cool air to ease some of her slightly heated anxiety.

She stood politely in front of the vehicle watching Boyoung climb inside before the driver closed it gently. Though her attention flickered over to something moving on the other side of the street where the park was. Usually filled with children running around, people jogging but her focus directed more towards the bushes fencing the area.

For a quick moment a more sensible side assumed it may have been an animal of some sort merely rustling between the branches.

Though the side that was fully aware of the new gaze on her after the engagement knew better. Animals did not wear black coats neither did they hold cameras pointing right in her direction while trying to look inconspicuous in nature.

At some point Belle suspected the photographer saw her looking into the camera because she saw the figure rush to keep themselves hidden again.

Sighing, the girl gave one quick smile to Boyoung before the car drove away and she tried to fix her attention on her work again.

-

Coffee stained papers flipped and dropped either on the other side of the crowded table or on the floor. Phone rung at some corner constantly while not a single employee had a minute without running around somewhere leaving Namjoon s’ head spinning. On his right were a pile of cases he should be doing according to the captain who insisted that vandals and petty theft was more his specialty. Granted the man could not blame her considering his biggest undercover case went downhill with no leads whatsoever leaving him to be the runt of his precinct for the past year.

He kept a decent aura of respect however, no one really wanted to piss off someone who had been personally trained to cut off important parts in a body.

Taking a sip of his possible fifth cup of coffee, his pile of useless cases forgotten on the side while he stared at the recent pictures sent to him. A few years had already passed with this growing ambition towards finding out how to expose the mystery that was the Jeon Cartel. Apparently each associate took some kind of tight fucking oath which prevented anyone from uttering a single secret about them.

The infamous Jeon Jungkook was a master of words. The golden elite of their city. Contributed to around half of the buildings in the city and factories overseas. Donated near millions of dollars to medical and disaster care.

Namjoon had to admit he was good at what he did. That is until the first drug scandal. One of the factories that Jungkook owned was caught manufacturing cocaine and distributing it to Osaka and Hong Kong. Though quickly swept under the rug when the man had two hospitals built under the guise that it was Jungkooks’ personal apology to the city. His undercover mission which he worked on for months destroyed in two days.

Now the man was left with looking at any recent changes. Anything that so much as leaned the slightest towards suspicion caused his ears to prick up and his eyes peeled.

“You know Pornhub exists, right?” Yoongi spoke in his usual gruff tone, sipping on his espresso while watching over Namjoon s’ shoulder at the pictures he was looking at.

The younger male rolled his eyes continuing to observe the photos taken three days ago. A woman wearing a striking red dress conversing and smiling with the second most powerful lady in the city. “It’s Kim Belle.” Namjoon remembered the name on the newspaper article in front of him. “Seems Jeon Jungkook is getting engaged.” He sighed, brows furrowing slightly.

“Okay…” He nodded walking over to his desk right in front of Namjoon s’ desk. “And that’s our problem because…”

“Well it doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s marriage, it almost never makes sense.” Yoongi leaned back on his chair.

Namjoon moved in to try and keep his voice down since anyone who so much as heard him talk about Jungkook started writing out complaints to the captain. “But why now? He’s been an eligible bachelor for years and all of a sudden, an engagement?”

The older male tried to suppress rolling his eyes. “Probably an arranged marriage then.” He shrugged.

“To a fashion designer?” He winced. “What the hell is he going to gain by marrying a fashion designer?”

“Free suits for a life time?” Yoongi smirked but immediately sighed seeing the warning look on Namjoon s’ face. The man had clearly dedicated his entire livelihood to exposing Jungkook which was something he could never understand. He spent most of his days going undercover and being damn good at it too, exposing all kinds of rings. The Jeon Cartel, on the other hand was a hard ice wall to crack. “Look…you’ve been at this for a long time. At this point if you so much as mention Jungkook, the captains’ just going to let you go on the grounds of insanity.”

“But something isn’t right.” Namjoon emphasized desperately wanting anyone to see under that perfect young man façade Jungkook harbored. “You don’t just get engaged to some random girl, that’s social suicide.”

“Social suicide? This isn’t fucking high school.”

“You know what I mean.”

The two men stayed silent letting the ambient noise plunge through their personal atmosphere.

Yoongi mulled over his thoughts for a moment, watching Namjoon look down at the pictures with a defeated sigh. He understood the passion behind exposing someone who was doing a harmful thing under the guise of righteousness. So many powerful heads still needed to be exposed, unfortunately Jungkook was only a newer one. “Let me see the file.” He curled his fingers in and took the thick file onto his own desk when Namjoon handed it to him.

His gaze fixated on the picture of the woman, who looked around about Jungkooks’ age except with a softness to her as opposed to the other mans’ mischief. There were a couple of news articles that Namjoon collected with that same face plastered all over. A couple of them were positive while others were out to scandalize one way or another no matter how stupid it sounded. “So you’ve never seen her with him before?”

Namjoon shook his head. “Not until a little too recently. It’s like she just appeared out of thin air.”

Flipping through the photos, Yoongi came across one where she wore a brown-ish bodycon dress walking into an establishment. “This is a rehabilitation clinic.” His brows furrowed, interest now piqued a little too much for his own liking.

“You think she’s an addict?”

“Hard to tell. Could be anything.” He muttered, eyes on the picture as he took a sip of his now cooled down espresso. “Maybe she’s visiting.”

“There has to be something weird about this, right?” Namjoon gestured towards the file.

Crime lords taking in beautiful, young wives for no reason was not an uncommon trait but usually those leaders would have a reputation of that sort. Jungkook had been a bachelor from what they knew and rarely found himself in any kind of sex or romantic scandal. Something was going on but much like everything else with this man, it was hard to tell what exactly. “Okay don’t tell anyone I said this.” Yoongi almost whispered now leaning in. “But we have a possible drug bust…thanks to our new mayor, we’ve been getting orders left and right to fish out dens.” He stopped himself for a moment letting a trainee walk past them before speaking again. “The one we’re looking at tonight—few of us suspect that it could belong to Jeon.”

Namjoon shifted in his seat as his heart leaped right up to his throat. Finally those words were coming out of someone else’s mouth instead him saying the same thing like a broken record. More people were seeing the truth. “Where is it?”

Yoongi gave him a warning look now. “Joon…”

“Come on, I’m not gonna follow you.”

“Yeah but this is still a secret bust, alright? Even some of the seniors don’t know about it.” His eyes flickered over to the sides where the older officers were sipping coffee at their desks looking at their computer. About two of them actually reading cases while others watching porn. “The mayor wants a full clean-up.” Yoongi whispered again. “And I mean—full.”

“Meaning…” He pointed to his desk but referred to the whole precinct and Yoongi nodded.

“All our jobs are on the line.” He muttered. “Even the captain…but—this could help us be on the mayor’s good side since they’re trusting us already.”

A light hint of excitement tingled down his spine knowing there was a lead now. While Namjoon would have wanted to accompany the team, the older male had the right idea. The captain did not trust him in this mission. He needed to be subtle if he was ever going to feel the satisfaction of seeing Jeon Jungkook behind bars.

-

Golden rays peeked through the curtains as Belle walked to the vanity with nothing but a crème silk slip and a white robe over top.

The couple along with Taehyung were invited to the Sangria House to celebrate their new business partnership. Apparently the best angels would be readied for their entertainment in the night. Something Belle was not sure she was going to enjoy.

Either way it was always good to look as presentable as possible. The dress code stated that white, red, lavender or gold were not allowed in the establishment for obvious reasons Belle understood now. So with the thought in mind she opted for a deep green velvet dress, a slit for one of her thighs to peek through and one loose strap sleeve that hung off her shoulder smoothly.

The gorgeous dress lay neatly on the large ottoman in the center of the walk-in wardrobe while the woman curled a few undone pieces of her hair.

Deep peach lips and a simple terracotta shaded eye look, Belle briskly made her way downstairs to see how Taehyung was doing with getting ready.

Her older brother had been extremely reluctant in coming to the event but she suggested it would be good to do something other than sitting around. Maybe getting his mind off of any messiness even for a few hours. Still hesitant he silently agreed but Belle had a nagging feeling he was still napping.

Down the stairs as her curls bounced a little in the process, Nana smiled and rushed over to her.

“He’s fine, mistress.” She quickly reassured as they both stopped near the entrance archway.

Belle let out light sigh before chuckling, head lowered for a moment. “Is the suit okay?”

“Very handsome.” She nodded in acknowledgement. “You should be dressed too.”

The younger female hummed before hearing a few voices back and forth as if in argument. Brows furrowed, Belle walked to the other side of the mansion where the second living room was while Nana continued on with her work.

The area was empty but she still heard angered voices coming from the left room. The second living room led two areas. It had a similar design to the first one except instead of a bar, there was another fireplace. Past the couches in the center led to an open archway towards the kitchen on the right while the left was closed; Jungkooks’ home office.

Curiosity and slight concern seeping through her entire body, Belle walked towards the door which in mere minutes opened harshly. A clear air of smoke flowed out into the second living room touching her nostrils and making her wince.

The once angry looking men immediately stopped in their tracks for a moment before waving off the smoke and bowing. “Excuse us, mistress.” One of the older ones acknowledged as they took turns walking past her to the exit. Jongho and another guard led them properly to the door but the womans’ gaze was more on the figure sitting at the chair, rubbing his face.

Entering the office, she closed the door behind her.

His slightly reddened eyes flickered to meet her gaze before lowering his head. “Belle—” Jungkook sniffled, fingers running through messy hair. White shirt a little crumpled, almost half unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It became a usual sight for the man ever since this new election. “Sorry…I don’t usually yell.” He sighed attempting to messily fix up the papers.

Staying silent, feet padded closer to the table and gently took the paperwork in her hands, stacking them neatly with a tap on the edge before placing them back on the surface. “I know. You haven’t slept.”

“Park Chul clearly isn’t planning on sleeping.” Jungkook almost seethed just mentioning the mayors’ name.

Belle moved to stand behind him, hands on his shoulders lightly squeezed the knotted muscles. “That doesn’t mean you stop taking care of yourself.”

He let out a drawling hum, throwing his head back. “You can take care of me.” A soft smile tugged at his lips as her vanilla scented perfume graced his nostrils. For hours Jungkook had been forced to tolerate the tobacco, weed and alcohol, it felt nice to have someone pleasant around him again.

“What if I’m not here?” Another million dollar question that silenced them both for a few minutes. Even the woman grew uncomfortable at how heavy those words were. Their deal was perfect. But what about twenty years from now? Fifty years? What if Jungkook being married didn’t matter anymore?

“You’ll always be here…won’t you?” He stared up at her.

Belle stopped massaging him at this point, mind crowding with unwanted thoughts and unanswered questions. Too much to think about in such little time. “I made a promise.” She smiled. “I’m gonna keep it.” Seemed the best reply in the pile of things she truly wanted to say to him except there was no time to worry themselves over delicate details.

Jungkook chuckled a little under his breath as the vanilla scented goddess now moved to sit on the table in front of him. “Shouldn’t you be dressed by now?”

“I could ask you the same question, Mr. Jeon.” Her eyes flickered up and down his body.

Fingers accidentally pushed her robe aside to let those soft thighs peek out in display, the feeling of it under his pads allowed for a sense of relief to wash any stress down. All she had to do was sit here and Jungkook felt instantly revived. Even the scent of alcohol and tobacco faded away with her presence bringing him nothing but light bliss. “I like this outfit.” He smirked, hand tracing down her leg so it sat on the arm rest, slightly caging him in much to his pleasure.

Belle smiled placing her other leg on the left arm rest giving him a small peek of her satin black panties. “Do you want me to wear this outfit?” She purposely softened her voice.

The sweet sound tingled down his spine, head turning to kiss the inside of her thigh.

Eyes closed feeling each kiss lurking closer to the thin barrier hiding the womans’ core. Leaning back a little, she buried her fingers gently in his thick hair. Grip tightened when Jungkooks’ lips finally pressed against her panties. “We don’t have time for that.” She spoke breathlessly.

“We’ll make time.” His voice rasped.

She felt her panties being pushed to the side, exposing her core to his hot breath before his tongue licked a stripe up from her slit to her little nub. Legs jerked a little almost locking her thighs together but one of his hands kept one of them still. Tongue lapped on her throbbing clit making it hard to keep herself steady without knocking over the desktop computer behind her; light moans melted out of her like a long unsung melody. A little hesitant but she had to sing it regardless. “Dai—”

Her voice made his heart flutter immediately concealed with a light groan that vibrated against her core. Lips wrapped around the sweet bundle of sensitivity and suckled, relishing in the feeling her plump thighs pressing against his ears.

Belle almost lost her balance as she pushed the keyboard away to the side. The familiar warmth constricted around her lower belly now welcomed itself, moans fading into desperate whimpers to reach her orgasm.

Feeling her hips jerk against his mouth, Jungkook breathed out through his nose not leaving a single break as he pushed her to her release. Clit throbbing between his lips, he shook his head.

The rough pressure torturing her bud as she drowned in the warm explosion seeping through every vein, body trembled in bliss. When Belle felt his tongue still moving causing her to jump a little from the sensivity as she pushed his face away softly. “No more.” She giggled, still trying to catch her breath.

Jungkook kissed it once more with a cheeky smile before standing up.

She wiped off the glisten on his chin with the fabric of her robe and pressed a light kiss on his lips. “What about you?” Her hands pulling at his belt but he held onto them.

“It’s okay.” He whispered, giving her a reassuring smile. “I just needed a little treat.”

Belle slapped his chest softly not able to get rid of the blissful smile gracing her features. “We should get dressed now.” She muttered even though their hands were still slowly caressing each other.

“We should.” Jungkook pushed away the loose curl over her eye.

Whether it was the ecstasy still flowing through her or a genuine feeling from within, the woman found herself in complete comfort under his touch. Maybe something more than just sexual attraction. Not that it could ever be anyway, there was no real use in true feelings for something false. Despite the thought in mind Belle smiled up at her clever captor turned fiancée and felt tingles run down her spine at a mere kiss on her cheek.

-

Sangria House reeked of luxury from its royal purple and gold tapestries, crystal lamps with warm lighting, scent of wine mixed into vanilla while the inside adorned with colorful angels entertaining their patrons. Since the house colors were not allowed to be worn by visitors, many of them opted for the classic black which made Belles’ deep green velvet dress stand out a lot more than she expected.

Arm hooked onto Jungkooks’ while Taehyung walked with them on her left, the three were welcomed by an angel with white attire. She bowed, smile gracing her features before leading them past the main lobby of entertainment where a few angels in white played instruments on the small stage.

Upon observing, a lot of the members in the lobby only wore white while some red ones sat in a few corners.

Belle assumed the higher ranking ones would have more private sessions or maybe there were certain times where each angel arrived. So many things still left unanswered for the workings of the Sangria House but it did not change the fact, it was a quick profit hungry establishment exploiting vulnerable young people who were desperate for a living.

The young angel slid open a door to an empty private room. Table full of light snacks and three cushions for them to sit on. “Mistress Angel and Master Jimin will see you shortly.” She bowed again until her knees touched the floor waiting for them to enter the room so she could leave respectfully.

Jungkook sat in the middle while Belle and Taehyung took each side waiting patiently in a small period of silence.

“Was bringing me to a brothel really necessary?” He glared more at Jungkook even though Belle was the one who received the invitation and accepted it for the business deal.

“If it were the brothel, I would’ve been groped at least a good three times by now.” The woman replied simply knowing this establishment in particular had extremely strict rules and a different crowd of clients.

The comment silenced her brother almost instantly.

Mere minutes passed and the door slid open again bursting with bright colors. A woman with long brown hair wearing a gold georgette dress with a matching overcoat giving her the look of royalty. In a similar fashion, a grey haired male stood beside her wearing a similar design except silk lavender. Walking closer to the table, they both bowed down to their patrons adorning those award winning smiles.

Taehyung felt like something clipped his tongue when saw the angels. The ones in white were pretty but this house owner had some real gems hidden under his sleeve. Especially the lady in gold who perched herself next to him, smiling like a princess from a fairytale that the man seemed rude smile a little back.

“Welcome to the Sangria House. On behalf of Mr. Kim, we’d like to thank you for accepting this momentous partnership, Madame Belle.” She smiled at her and gave a little bow of acknowledgement. “Jimin and I will be your hosts for this evening.”

Jungkook smiled kindly and the chatting began quite smoothly since the angels were extremely talented in holding an air of entertainment. Especially these ones. Getting a lavender and a gold coated angel were not regular feats and only done if the patron was an important one to impress. The last time he saw two of these angels together in one room was when he was first anointed leader of the Cartel but it was all paid by his father and mother. Belle checked that box without any aid. He would be jealous but a jolt of pride burst through him without knowing.

“Your name is Angel?” Taehyung asked, expression softened so much he could resemble a cloud.

Angel giggled under her breath while serving his tea. “It’s a little strange.” She placed the teapot down glancing over at Jimin who was chatting along with Belle while Jungkook listened to her. “We were called faeries before but—Mr. Kim changed it after I was given the gold coat.” She gestured to her outfit.

Taehyungs’ brows furrowed looking down at her dress hoping the princess would explain why the change in her outfit was so important. Instead the criminal sitting in the middle began speaking.

“When an angel is given the gold coat, it signifies that she’s take—” Jungkook cleared his throat. “Apologies…she’s married.”

The princess nodded with a reassuring smile.

“Married.” Taehyung breathed out, feeling like a grey cloud engulfed him into a cold hug. Of all the things…of all the angels he had to melt in front of the one who was married.

Belles’ smile disappeared hearing Jungkooks’ correction. The smallest tiniest detail managed to snap a nerve that had been long hidden with her own pride and stubborn strength. He was wrong. Angel was taken. No real, true spouse would continue to let their wife be used as a sensual commodity for extra cash and this gold angel definitely brought in a lot from what she learnt. No real, true husband would manipulate someone and threaten her family just to keep up a good appearance as a married elite. This was far from being married. Marriage was something else entirely and these suited pigs would not ever understand the meaning. It was a business transaction. Her body deflated a little feeling that nudge of anxiety once again bubbling up but she quickly gave Jimin a kind smile.

Jimin knew fake smiles from a mile away but it did not take an expert to realize Mr. Jeons’ comment changed something in the gorgeous designer. Though he had to admit, she was good at holding one like she had been giving conveniently fake smiles for a while. He did not know if he should be impressed or terrified. Either way it seemed the perfect to initiate the next stage of the evening that Seokjin planned out for them. He gently touched Angels’ arm to give her the signal before speaking once everything was quiet. “Mr. Kim has private sessions booked for each of you. I will be taking Madame Belle to another room and Mr. Jeon is expected in a meeting with Mr. Kim.”

It might have sounded like Jungkook was forced to work while relaxing but he never really delved into the antics of the Sangria House. When he was a bit younger and curious, he did book a red angel occasionally but now nothing really compared to what he already had. Though something he did not like was Jimin offering his hand to Belle. “You don’t have to do that.” He muttered to the woman.

“It’s okay.” Belle spoke a little coldly, accepting Jimins’ hand as they walked out of the room.

Another angel wearing white walked into the room to escort Jungkook to wherever he needed to go but Taehyung did not really care where. All he could focus on was the fact he could now be alone with the gold princess. “Can I ask who you’re…married to?”

Angel smiled. “No one really asks. They like keeping my truth as far away from the confines of this room to make their evening more enjoyable.”

“What if I don’t want to do that?”

“Then you’d be the first.” She took a polite sip of her tea. “Is there something in particular you wanted me to do?”

“No!” Taehyung cleared his throat, cheeks heating up. “Uh—no, I—Talking is fine. I haven’t…spoken to anyone new in a long time.” He chuckled mostly to himself. Most of the friends he had left him in the dust the more he found his comfort in other things. He talked to Hoseok a lot but only when a transaction was involved, the nurses were anything but just highly paid nannies and Belle had a life of her own to lead. Sitting in this room now with the soft-spoken princess, he quickly felt how lonely he truly was.

“Am I doing a good job?” She giggled seeing the little sags under his eyes that resembled she saw in the mirror this morning.

He nodded without hesitation. Her mere presence seemed to bring a warmth in his belly, reassuring him that he was not lonely. That everything was okay even just for a moment.

-

The room Belle was escorted into had a similar structure to the previous one except instead of plain walls, there were cherry blossom designs giving the area a subtle pinkish hue. She walked inside and sat down on the cushion this time sitting in the middle while Jimin perched himself on the other side so they faced each other. “So…why the private session?”

Jimins’ eyes flickered up to the female while he served the tea before smiling. “Mr. Kim wanted each of you to fully enjoy the services we can provide.”

Her heart bounced a little at his words. “Ser—Services?” She breathed out a small chuckle. “What kind of services?”

The lavender adorned male could not help but giggle at her adorable reaction. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything unless you ask me to.”

“What if you don’t want to do what I ask?” Belle tilted her head. Not on her life would she ask Jimin or anyone to do anything disgusting for her own benefit but she was curious just how put together this establishment actually was.

He smiled. “It is my job to make you happy, Madame Belle.”

Clearly not that put together. “It would make me happy if you just called me Belle. ‘Madame’ is only used for senior designers.”

Jimin bowed. “Apologies—Belle. I looked at the designs you sent in for the House…you could be a senior designer if you wanted.”

Belle giggled lightly trying not to look too proud of herself since as Jimin said, it was his job to make her happy. “Thank you. Let me know if you want me to change anything.”

“That’s not really my decision but I think it’s perfect just the way it is.” He shrugged. A small moment of comfortable silence passed through them before Jimin spoke again with a careful thought. “Forgive me for asking, Belle…but–I saw you were very upset hearing Mr. Jeons’ comment.” Every word sounded so carefully calculated Belle wished she could speak like that in front of strangers. “Part of the responsibilities in Sangria House is to detect signs of…domestic disturbances. Our patrons tend be loose tongued which helps us find out if there is anyone who needs help getting away from something like that.”

“Oh—” She tried her best to hide how much her heart almost cracked her ribcages when it leaped in both fear and a strange excitement. “You don’t have to worry about all that.” Belle shook her head with a smile. Though a small lump still grew in her throat at how Jimin spoke his concerns despite barely knowing her. “Sangria House tracks domestic disturbances?”

Jimin nodded, smile softly adorning his ethereal features. “Most of our angels are from toxic environments.” He took a breath to say something as he glanced behind him. Then he leaned in with a smaller voice. “Angel…the golden lady used to be the mistress of a powerful club owner. I—I was the one who found the signs after a private session.”

Belle swallowed down the painful lump. “Who did she marry then?”

He sighed. “Since the man was so influential, he wouldn’t just let anyone marry her.” Jimin shook his head. “So—Mr. Kim offered his hand. Well…Angel trained five times as intense compared to the other angels so her status as a gold member would be valid.”

What little hope Belle had of the Sangria House being somewhere of help quickly dwindled down back to her original opinion. Angel moved from one controlling person to another. Maybe Seokjin was not an abuser of any sort but it did not change the fact she became a commodity just so she could be free from abuse. A ‘better’ life but did that make it a good life?

Though Jimin looked quite convinced that this was a righteous path for the House.

He could not exactly be miserable about it like she was since he had to actually live through all these routines and schemes.

Same way Belle couldn’t be upset about her deal with Jungkook otherwise it could make her insane with misery. Every time the small hint of reality hit her, she felt like her whole body was drowning in it all. Something so wrong damaged the entire structure of her future. If soulmates existed Belles’ would be left waiting or they would run to someone else they were not truly meant for.

“I’m sorry…I was supposed to entertain you, not make you feel awful.” Jimin chuckled nervously, shifting in his seat.

“No, no—” She shook her head smiling at him more genuinely this time. Her hand unintentionally slid closer to his as a way to comfort the angel. “Please, I—like talking about these things sometimes. It feels—real.” Her genuine smile faded into something a little sad but it still rang with truth. “I need a lot of real in my life right now.”

Jimin hummed in acknowledgement, one of his fingers lightly tapping against her hand. “Well if you ever want to visit again this House will always be open to you.”

Regardless of what she thought about this place, that was the first time anyone ever gave her words of comfort since the ‘engagement’. “Thank you, Jimin.”

-

“We’ve been in casual dealings for a long time now, Mr. Jeon.” Seokjin walked towards his desk after bringing out a wooden box from his shelf and placing it on the dark wooden surface. The lighting in the office had been a lot more dim with rarely any heavy decorations save for a few plants. This place clearly was only meant for business. “But I feel this new project may be able to solidify a stronger partnership between the two of our entities.” He tapped the closed box.

Jungkook sat on the chair in front of the desk, eyes fixated on the box before flickering up to the older male. “We don’t—share the same supplies, I’m afraid, Mr. Kim.” He shook his head a smirk lightly playing on his lips.

Seokjin chuckled settling down on the chair. He flicked the gold latches on the box and pushed the lid open before sliding it towards the young lord. “I believe you do share a similar interest for this kind of product.”

Giving the house owner a look of apprehension, he slowly leaned in and peeked into the box where he saw an indigo shaded stick almost resembling a cinnamon stick. On the left was a small bag of the same colored powder and then a liquid version in a vial. “What is this supposed to be?”

“There isn’t a name for it yet.” He shrugged. “But from I’ve asked a few of my white coats to try this product out and see the effects.”

Jungkook picked up the liquified version to examine it closer, little pink glitters seemed to shine through in the light making it look like some potion from the ancient times. “And? What were the results?”

“At first the usual, loss of inhibition maybe a little sense—then…we have increased sex drive, high performance and concentration ability, pain relief and for some people, a serious case of the giggles.” Seokjin rested his elbows on the table with his fingers intertwined with one another.

“Side effects?” He met the older males’ gaze, placing the vial back in the box.

“Didn’t think you were kind of man to worry about that.” He smirked.

“I didn’t get this kind of success by selling bad drugs, Seokjin.” Jungkook smiled with a slight bitter hint.

Seokjin sighed before nodding. “Of course—unfortunately, this drug is new and not exactly made by creators of your Cartels’ stature. Side effects included heavy addiction, loss of coordination, extreme mood swings, excessive coughing with blood traces, insomnia, sensitivity to light and cold and nightmares.”

“So nothing then?” He joked, raising a brow. “It’s going to take work to ensure at least lessening those side effects by half.”

“I take it that’s a yes on the partnership.” The corner of his lip twitched up a little.

Many club owners usually turned to him and his manufacturers for new and improved drugs that surpassed the traditional ones. Though in Jungkooks’ opinion, the originals always sold the most because they were effective for years. Except brothel or teahouse owners never really dabbled into the interest of his line of work. “Why the interest in this new field?”

Seokjin smiled leaning back on his chair. “I’m a businessman, Jungkook. There’s no field I don’t want to get into. It has been an interest of mine for years since many herbs and substances have yet to be discovered. Don’t you ever wonder if there was something out there in the world that could bring you more profit…more glory than your predecessor?”

Jungkook sat silent as the question lingered in the air for a few moments. Being so young and handed the cartel without his fathers’ death caused a disagreement amongst many associates. Despite the fear harbored by whoever crossed his path, the young man was always on the path to better himself in proving that he was the most capable and most influential. There was no room to be soft or complacent in this business.

“Also the lack of knowledge for this product may prevent any…mishaps from our new beloved mayor.”

Those clever words made his ears prick up quicker than he liked. A substance with similar effects to the originals but the look of none of them. If they succeed in perfecting it then maybe it would make being discreet that much easier. “I’ll talk about it with my manufacturers.” He spoke trying to be as emotionless as possible. But the prospect of his vulnerable mess of a cartel getting some security was soothing.

-

The sessions and a productive meeting flowed through deep into the dark night until the three were escorted back to their car.

Belle kept her eyes out on the window feeling a light emptiness gut after an angel walked into the room and told their session came to an end. Perhaps it was Jimins’ immense talent in luring his patrons. Whatever it was she had no interest in talking to the men in the car. She felt like her whole being was ripped apart, now she needed a few moments of deep silence to stitch herself back up.

Truthfully the girl did not say anything too detailed to the lavender angel but she never needed to. Somehow he had the talent of seeing her story with a few hints. That alone made her even more reluctant to uttering a single word to her brother or her makeshift fiancée.

Jungkook peeked from the rearview mirror at the woman looking out the window wondering what happened in the private session. Even as they met again in the lobby, Belle had a cold sheet over her to a point where he could feel the chill.

-

When they arrived to the mansion, Taehyung shyly suggested that they should visit the house more often which Belle agreed to with a slightly exhausted smile.

“You looked beautiful tonight.” Jungkook commented watching Belle take off her earrings and necklace, placing them in a black box.

“Thank you.” She replied under her breath, unpinning some parts of her hair relieving the light headache that ensued. Stop acting miserable, Belle told herself. It would only make it worse—her chest could not clench all her life. Her gaze still focused on the vanity, she pushed all her curls over her shoulder. “Could you unzip me?” Belle asked coyly. The woman had all capabilities of unzipping her own dress.

Shrugging the soft shirt off his shoulders, Jungkook padded towards the beauty and stood behind her. Eyes flickered to her reflection in the mirror watching her glow in the golden lights of the vanity. Hands carefully held onto the zip and pulled down tantalizing slow, wanting to stand this close to her as long as possible. The scent of her perfume blessed his nostrils, he had to lean down and nudge his nose against her hair.

Belle couldn’t help but close her eyes, chest rising and falling. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Why did something fake feel so good then? His slightly rough fingers sneaking through the slit of her unzipped dress tracing up her back making her shiver a little. She shrugged off the one sleeve keeping her clothing hanging, nipples now peeking out from the green velvet.

Jungkook kept his gaze on the reflection as his hand reached out to push down the fabric so her gorgeous breasts could be full display. Fingers brushed up her chest before wrapping around her neck and turning her head up, lips devouring hers. Tongue pushed through her teeth not wasting any time exploring every corner of her mouth.

She sneaked through the slit of her dress and rolled her panties down to her thighs. Sneaking her hand behind her, Belle palmed the tightening bulge in his pants feeling him groan into her mouth which only made her moan back. Nothing fake should ever feel this good.

Losing all his sense and patience, he pulled her dress to see her beautiful ass in bare display as she bent over slightly on the table. Jungkook unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down watching Belle cheekily sway that gorgeous peach. No one should be this irresistible. One little tiny move from the woman had his head floating in the clouds. Nails dug into her skin, fingers wrapping around his cock before teasing her slit.

As much as Belle loved his tongue, feeling his hardened tip had her body tingling for more. Heated arousal leaked out of her awaiting core while she pressed her ass against his member silently asking to hurry.

“Did Jimin see this?” He slapped his cock against one ass cheek making the woman hum.

She shook her head looking at him through the mirror. “Only you.” Voice came in a whisper that leaked of a little desperation.

“Only me.” Jungkook muttered, giving her an almost borderline sinister smirk. Hands grabbed at her hips as he stuffed his cock into her pussy without a single warning.

Belle lightly groaned under her breath, nails scratching against the surface of the table. Her wet core swallowed his entire member with a light ache but it quickly faded into a warm filling that she craved for too long.

“Say it again.” He demanded.

She glanced over her shoulder for a second trying to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Only you.” A harsh thrust from behind had Belle’s body trembling in the best way possible.

“Again.” His voice grew breathless, each thrust snapping with rough need.

“Only you.” Belle moaned out feeling the tip of his cock rubbing against the sweet spot. Arms around her body, chest pressing against her back making his shaft hit deeper and slower pushing through his deprived orgasm. “Only—” She gasped when she felt her sensitive spot get tortured, her legs momentarily losing balance from the sensation.

“Fuck, baby—” He cursed in a breathy mumble, face buried in her hair as his orgasm raced closer.

“Master Jeon!” A yell echoed upstairs but Jungkook merely groaned at the horrible timing.

Pushing Belle down further, he rammed into her like an animal. All the makeup and skincare products stumbled and fell over the shaking table.

“Master Jeon!”

Each time the yell echoed, his thrusts grew more vicious. Her skin burned from the friction against the table surface while her limbs lost all ability to have any control of their own. Belle still could not control the small smile on her face. The feeling of her body completely submitting to the beast fucking her from behind brought a new rush of adrenaline.

Jungkook grabbed onto a chunk of her hair relishing in her little moans being drowned out by the impact against the contents of the table.

Loud knocking on their bedroom door interrupted their heated air for a second.

“Baby, don’t stop please…” Belle whimpered feeling her release reach tipping point.

That nickname again made his thrusts sloppy as the warm heaviness in his lower belly reached its uncontrollable, quickly pulling out of her. Juice spluttered all over her ass and back making her look like a sinful piece of art.

Her legs felt like pure jelly as the jolt of overwhelming pleasure clouded every other thought ever constructed in her mind. When she almost stumbled, Jungkook held her gently.

“Master Jeon! It’s an emergency!”

Jungkook groaned under her breath.

“It’s okay, go.” She whispered patting his arm.

Reluctantly letting go of the beauty and zipping himself back up, he stomped towards the door and almost pulled it off its hinges. Much to his increased frustration one of his sweaty associates stood on the other side of the door. “What could possibly be so important that you had to disturb my private time?” He glanced back at the walk-in wardrobe to see Belle completely getting rid of her clothing.

“S-sir the—” He stammered giving Jungkook the urge to strangle him right there and then.

“Speak or I cut your throat.”

“The den, sir.” He shivered. “One of our dens...police did a raid, we lost of our twenty percent supplies…sir.”

Jungkook narrowed his gaze at the older male feeling the deep warm bliss now cut through by his harsh reality. They actually fucking did it. Ever since that scandal, not a single soul in the police force dared to take them down but now suddenly someone decided to play hero in front of this new mayor. “You’re the one who supposed to keep the den under guard.”

The male gulped down hard. “I—I had to get out of there.”

“You should’ve died with it.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sorry…” God he fucking hated that word. What did it ever solve? Jungkook nodded, rubbing the back of his neck walking over to the study table. Pulling out his gun he pointed it at the mans’ left leg and took a shot. Then another on his right leg.

He limped down screaming in agony while the drug lord merely stared him down in disgust.

“Jungkook!” Belle called out, heart jumping to her throat at the sound of gunshots. Her body now adorned a thick robe which she hugged close to herself. He looked back over his shoulder to meet her gaze, eyes reddened once again with anger and maybe a hint of distress. “Don’t…”

His entire body wanted to melt into hers for the rest of the night. Maybe it would make him forget all his problems for a while but he couldn’t. The mayor worked day and night trying to get one step ahead of him and now they were. Jungkook couldn’t let this happen. He had to send a message. A damn good one. “Go to sleep, okay? Close your ears if you have to.” He whispered.

Belle took a breath to say something but nothing came out so she sucked in her bottom lip, watching him close the door so all she could do was hear it all. The man screamed, sounds something crashing and choking. Feet backed away until her body plopped down sitting on the edge of the bed. This was his job, she knew that. But it all went back to what Jungkook was truly capable of. Why taking his deals were so important. Every sound reminded Belle of how it could be Taehyung going through the same fate. Maybe one day when the drug-lord grew tired of the same face, she would be on her knees allowing him to seal her fate just as he took control of it.

So she took his advice and pressed her hands against her ears tightly hoping to block the reality she was trying so hard to suppress.

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

[icequeenbae]

Girl, I’m Your Catnip (m) | BBH

Pairing: wolf!Baekhyun x caracal!Reader

Hybrid AU, slice of life, some fluff, PWP, smut

Warnings: altered mental state (in a way?), Baek snapped, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, knotting, cross-breeding?

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: You’d been pretty stressed at work lately, so your boyfriend decided to bring something special to help you unwind.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Author’s note: I’m back with... Catnip. Seriously. I’m not even a cat person 😅 This was something quick and out of the blue. But I really enjoy hybrid aus, and this is definitely not the first or the last one I’ve written… It’s quite different from my other stories so far (pls read the warnings). Expect minimal plot (minimal… for me) and lots of feral sex unconventional stress relief lmao P.S. Thanks to @baekshoney​ for being quick at reading through when I come at her with these, even when they’re out of her comfort zone <3

It’d been weeks since you came home early enough to really hang out with Baekhyun. The closing phase of your project lasted longer than anticipated, and it was taking a great toll on you, both physically and mentally. Working long hours was one thing, but the atmosphere was not the greatest either. A couple cutthroat colleagues kept compromising the team’s integrity, creating additional stress for the hardworking and meticulous people like you. There was literally no time to deal with the internal drama while you had a deadline approaching fast.

Luckily enough, your significant other was most understanding during this time. Running you a bubble bath to soak in for twenty minutes after especially tough days, feeding you delicious late-night dinners… Or holding you in a tight lock of his arms when you broke down right at the threshold from exhaustion and nerves. He went as far as doing all the chores and grocery shopping by himself, which left you feeling rather guilty for not being able to reciprocate his care. What kind of shitty girlfriend were you? The constant nagging of the inner voice in the back of your head was making the anxiety grow.

Although Baekhyun assured you time and time again that it was fine, you kept insisting that you were going to make it up to him. Which nearly made you cry on the spot. Your usual way of giving back was making him a nice dinner, organizing a cozy movie night with his favorite snacks, or even bringing your favorite almond oil to give him a relaxing massage. All of those scenarios inevitably ended with the two of you tangled up in bed till indecent hours of the morning, having a whole lot of steamy sex. These days, however, you were unable to recuperate and loosen up enough to do any of it. You’d not been intimate with your partner for at least three weeks, and while he was a complete sweetheart (he usually was) about it, that made you feel even more burdensome to him.

So much so, that you promised your boyfriend to get drunk the first night following submission of the presentation, to take the edge off, and simply allow him to do whatever he wanted with you. Baekhyun insisted that he didn’t have much use of you while shitfaced, and would rather have you well-rested and enjoying the process. Still, you were set on having no more delays, so you informed him that you’d finally be free from the project this Friday, and he should be pouring champagne for you as you walk through the door. Taking his previous comments into consideration, you ruled out the hard liquor and decided to only get heavily tipsy. Being horribly drunk did not seem like an arousing option you should be presenting your overly patient and caring boyfriend with.

Come Friday, as you finally submitted your presentation, you texted Baekhyun at least two hours in advance that you were definitely on track to spend the evening with him. Fortunately for you, he was going to come home a bit late, so you even had a head start to do all of the necessary preparations. That’s to say, you were stuck in the bathroom for over an hour and a half. You were ecstatic to finally have enough time to groom properly – your caracal nature always called for it. Pleased with how smooth and refreshed your skin looked after the long-awaited pampering, you exited the bathroom to go pick your poison for tonight.

You were so ready to get your drinks and relinquish all control to Baekhyun that you got startled when you saw him already heading towards you.

‘Oh! I didn’t hear you come in,’ you chirped.

‘Are you already drunk?’ He sniffed the air, shaking his head. ‘I guess not. You smell good,’ he smiled as you reached him and wrapped your arms around his neck with all the feline grace you had in you.

‘I really missed you,’ you purred as his warm hand settled on the small of your back comfortably.

His scent made you want to rub your face on him, to get more of it on you. How terribly you must’ve missed him! In the beginning, it took you a bit to get used to the notorious ‘smell of a dog’ inevitably coming off of him. But you’d strangely grown to like it a lot, despite being the very whimsical wild cat hybrid that you were. Now, however, you’d stayed away for a while, and the scent lingering on his skin seemed so pleasant that you wanted to cover your entire body in it. But then again, it’d been so long that the desire to pounce him mixed with the fear of not being able to do well. What if you took longer to get ready now? Or to come? What if you couldn’t make him come? Surely you needed to take good care of him to repay all the weeks he’d been an angel for your sake.

‘I missed having you all to myself too, honey,’ he smiled crookedly, leaning in to give you a kiss. ‘You seem a bit tense,’ he noted when you swerved your short tail with slight agitation. ‘If it’s about sex, I told you we don’t have t-’

‘I want to!’ You quickly interrupted. ‘I don’t want to wait anymore, Baekhyunie. Just a little help to relax my stressed mind and body is all I need. Then we’ll get to it.’

Baekhyun sighed, shaking his head, allowing you to pull him back into your bedroom.

‘Doesn’t your head always hurt after you drink?’

‘It’s worth it,’ you replied firmly and turned to him. ‘Let’s just treat it as a celebration. I’ll bring the bottle here.’

He grabbed your wrist swiftly, before you took another step towards the door.

‘I-’ he looked away, tail stilling as he was considering something. ‘I have another idea, actually. You trust me, right?’

Giving him a curious look, you nodded. Of course, you trusted him; more than anyone in the world, more than yourself at times. Although he was a ‘big bad wolf’ (still, only bad enough to eat the last slice of his absolute favorite Hawaiian pizza while you weren’t looking), and your relationship wasn’t very ‘likely’… He’d managed to charm you, and you’d been together for a long time since. And your wolf’s embrace made you feel so tiny and secure, that you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else at this point, all initial reservations evaporated.

‘We can try something else. Something that shouldn’t be as toxic as drinking, but also have you release the tension and relax. I got it on my way here,’ he began, making you even more interested in what it was.

Taking notice of your stare, he continued.

‘Um- I just need to be sure that you want this. Your unbiased decision. Like I said, we don’t have to f-’

‘Don’t feel bad about it, making it up to you will make me happy,’ you raised an open palm in front of his chest when he tried to protest. ‘If it can help me make you feel good, whatever it is, I trust you. I missed being… close to you.’

He chewed on his lip, and nodded.

‘Alright. I’ll use the bathroom for a sec, and you can get on the bed, okay?’

Somewhat surprised that he didn’t tell you what exactly he was planning, you complied, lying down on your belly to wait for him. It took him a few unbearably long minutes, during which you stared the door down, tail swinging impatiently. He made minimal sound after the water was turned off, so you had no idea what was happening in there.

‘Babe, need some help in there?’ You offered and sat up just as the door flew open.

He emerged from the bathroom shirtless, sporting nothing but sweatpants. His skin was shimmering slightly, and you licked your lips at the sight of his lean torso. All of the events and worries of the past few weeks were instantly forgotten.

‘Took you long enough,’ you mumbled grumpily. ‘What were you doing in there?’

He tilted his head to the side, a textbook sign of puppy confusion.

‘Do you… notice anything?’

You pouted, unsure as to what you were supposed to notice. He looked the same. A bit freshened up and half-undressed, but still the same.

‘Ah- maybe it doesn’t work on you,’ he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, halting an arm’s length away. ‘My bad.’

‘What doesn’t wo-’ as he turned around to supposedly walk back to the bathroom, it hit you.

Oh, it hit you, indeed.

Before you could think, you gripped his wrist to prevent him from moving away.

‘W-what- is-’ you stuttered, pulse suddenly escalating.

Baekhyun gulped at the sight of your dilated, almost shaking pupils. You tugged him closer after you moved up to the edge of the bed. The scent that penetrated your nostrils almost took you out.

‘What is that?’ You finally managed, swallowing the saliva that was rapidly collecting in your mouth.

Jerking him forward, you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck.

‘Do you like it?’

You didn’t answer, too busy running your tongue over his collarbone with a long groan. Without even noticing the death grip you had on him, you dragged him onto the bed as you swallowed his scent and tasted his delectable skin, going increasingly mad from the sweetness.

‘What is this, Baekhyun,’ you sobbed, covering his chest in frenzied kisses, while the burning arousal made your insides constrict. ‘Oh god- I want all of you. On me. And- in me. Oh fuck,’ you were almost feverish as you pushed him in the chest to get him to lie back, and ripped his sweatpants off without a second thought.

‘Y/N, slow down,’ your boyfriend warned, and you didn’t care.

You wanted that taste in your mouth again, the one that was all Baekhyun, but sweeter, more intense. Nibbling on the gentle skin under his belly button, you quickly found your way down to his balls. Whimpering at the addicting taste, you took one in your mouth, playing with it diligently, sucking and licking, while your boyfriend stirred underneath and reached for your hair to get it out of the way. Your tongue on his most sensitive spots quickly made him harden, and you waited no more than necessary to stuff his entire cock in your mouth.

At that, you both moaned.

Frantically bobbing your head, you sucked harshly on it, making him thicken further. You shoved it in your mouth almost aggressively, choking on him, chasing the feeling that lingered in your throat after your nose met his smooth skin. He prepared too.

Swallowing around him, you groaned as you kept moving your head, spit mixing with precum and collecting at the corners of your mouth.

‘Fuck, kitten- you’d be mute tomorrow if you keep at it,’ Baekhyun gritted, pulling you off of his dick by the hair.

You wailed, like a cat being dragged by its tail, and clawed at his thigh for interrupting. His pained grunt went unnoticed since you immediately moved on to exploring the taut skin of his stomach all the way up to his pecs. Rubbing your face onto it, tonguing his abs and his nipples, you shuddered as the dreamy haze of desire surrounded you like mist.

It would’ve definitely been scary had Baekhyun not prepared in advance. Still, seeing you this out of your mind for him was nothing like he expected.

‘Please fuck me,’ you muttered into his sternum after ripping the last of your clothes off. ‘Scent me, come inside me, knot me. Make me raw. I don’t care. I want you,’ you sobbed, gnawing on his shoulder impatiently as his arms pulled you closer.

‘Don’t fret, you know I’m gonna take good care of you, baby,’ you jolted as his fingers slid between your wet lips to check.

Your arousal was already dripping out, so Baekhyun mercifully spared you any additional foreplay, simply sinking you down on his cock.

‘Agh!’ Your inner walls instantly contracted around him. ‘Yes, yes,’ you mouthed into his neck, licking at it as he bottomed out again and again.

Unable to hold back, you responded to his movement by slamming your pelvis down onto his repeatedly, with enough force to hurt, so he had to brace you by the hips to prevent you from injuring yourself. The smell of your overwhelming arousal made his mind blurry too, so he kept watching you with heavy-lidded eyes while you bounced on him like your life depended on it.

Scratching at his skin, you kept whining for your boyfriend to get closer, to scent you. He finally gave in, biting down on your neck gently to distract you and then flipping you onto your back promptly. Ignoring the feral hiss that escaped your mouth, he leaned forward to grant you full skin to skin contact while his hips continued jerking in and out of you.

Your mind went blank from the building pleasure. It was filling your entire being with desperate anticipation, the taste, the smell, all of the sensory feedback was elevated. Only your vision seemed impaired since you couldn’t blink away the thickening red fog of lust.

The divine smell was all over your skin now, and Baekhyun’s pelvis was almost glued to yours, grazing over your clit with every sway of his hips. He growled at how slick it felt between your bodies, and how deliciously lewd the sounds of him fucking you were. He knew the essential oil he used didn’t have much effect on him, only felines could fall under its spell. But he hadn’t been intimate with you for a long while now, and, frankly, he’d never seen you like this before. You were absolutely wild underneath him, clawing at his back like an angry cat, moaning and whining so loudly, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight. He’d never heard you sound like this, so irrepressible and untamed, and it was incredibly sexy. In a way, it triggered his more primal side to take control.

Suddenly feeling the power he had over you, he angled his hips and rammed into you, skin slapping your puffy lips repeatedly as you cried out in despair.

‘I’m not gonna stop,’ he leaned in and growled almost animalistically into your ear. ‘Before I ruin your little hole. You’ve been on the edge there for a while, haven’t you, kitten?’

Reveling in the mewl you responded with, he slid two fingers into your mouth and kept talking.

‘All helpless and needy underneath me. Entirely at my mercy,’ he pressed down on your tongue, making your throat relax to accommodate. ‘Do you enjoy being destroyed?’

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your orgasm hit. A muffled scream drowned out by his palm almost made his own release hit him, but Baekhyun had other plans.

Pulling out for a few seconds, he wiped away the sweat that was dripping from his forehead to his eyes, and rolled your limp body over. Allowing you a few seconds to cool down, he gripped his rock-hard flesh at the base and landed a sharp slap onto your supple ass cheek.

‘Baek,’ you squealed, registering the shuffling behind. ‘Wait- no,’ protesting weakly, as he got on top of you again. You took notice of the way his dick was nestled snugly between your bodies and guessed his intention.

‘You didn’t think we were done, did you, baby?’ He gave your ear a long lick, causing you to shiver.

‘B- Baekhyunie,’ you puled pathetically, still too overwhelmed. ‘I can’t-’

The sentence was drowned out by his growl. Your state pushed him too far to just stop now.

‘You’ll comply and come again, all while I load you up, got it?’ He slipped back inside, testing your body’s response.

As expected, you were still soaked from your previous activities, so he ignored the instant jolt of your body. It wasn’t something you did often, overstimulation, but your partner knew he could make you come like this if he hurried up, so that was exactly his plan.

‘No,’ you whined capriciously, your cat instincts making you protest against the intrusion while too sensitive. Your tail patted against Baekhyun’s side relentlessly, although most of it was trapped between you.

‘I can make you,’ he rolled his hips, knowing that in a few minutes you would beg him to make you come again, even though it seemed more like torture now.

‘Ah it hurts!’ You cried out, latching onto his thigh, claws out.

‘Oh, so you’re gonna be like that?’ He growled lower, making you hiss in a natural response and draw blood with your sharp nails.

He licked a sensitive spot between your shoulder blades as a warning.

‘Don’t make me do this,’ he snarled, but you kept trying to shove him off of you. ‘Okay, you fucking got it.’

Baekhyun snapped, locking his sharp teeth on your withers – the magical spot on your spine, just below the neck; your feline heritage. Instantly, your fingers grew weak and you whined feebly as his hips moved again. He picked up his pace gradually, readjusting your thighs to have more of a room to increase amplitude. You trembled helplessly, pinned down his weight and wailing into the pillow as his determined ministrations had the anticipation build once again. With the discomfort you initially had subsiding, you’d given up on the attempts to escape your lover.

Feeling the tight pulsation around his flesh, Baekhyun released your skin and started licking over the teeth marks right away.

‘That’s more like it,’ he hummed in your ear as you whined pathetically, feeling your eyes water from the intensity of the impending release. ‘I’m going to fill you up. Yes- come like this,’ he urged, intertwining his fingers with yours, and you could not disobey.

‘Baek-’ you squealed, your entire body shuddering underneath him as your muscles contracted once again from a mind-blowing wave of pleasure.

He delivered a few more quick, shallow thrusts before his hips stuttered and he moaned lowly as thick warmth flooded your insides.

You felt full and content, the fogginess of your mind clearing up slowly. Belatedly you realized that he actually knotted you – something he didn’t do often since you weren’t the same species (or trying for a baby at this point). But it felt good, and your walls were still pulsating around him, electricity jolting through you with every gentle lick of Baekhyun’s tongue over the spot where his teeth had left a reddish mark.

‘Mhm,’ you hummed, and Baekhyun shifted his weight to his elbows.

‘Sorry, I got a bit carried away,’ he admitted, planting soft kisses along your spine.

‘It was great,’ you yawned, noting casually. ‘You knotted me.’

‘Yeah, it will deflate soon,’ he rubbed his face between your shoulder blades affectionately, and you squirmed. ‘Does anything hurt? How are you feeling?’

‘Um- no, nothing hurts. At least not yet,’ you chucked, assuming that the soreness would come tomorrow. ‘I’m just exhausted. And still a bit… dazed?’

‘Yeah, I think it’s all evaporated from my skin. Or licked off,’ he snickered. ‘Still smell the remnants of it in the air, but to me it’s not as prominent as your arousal.’

‘What was it, actually?’

‘You didn’t get it?’ Baekhyun laughed, finally slipping out and rolling off to the side, allowing you to glance at him. ‘Catnip. I got a little roll-on thingy with the essential oil. Didn’t realize it’s that strong though.’

‘Are you serious?’ You smacked him on the top of the head in a very feline way. ‘That thing is like a drug for cats!’

‘It’s safe. You were under supervision, and it has no lasting effects. And it’s not addictive,’ he clarified. ‘I consulted.’

‘Always prepared, aren’t you?’ Smiling, you shoved him in the chest. ‘I can’t believe you drugged me with catnip to fuck me. Tsk, what a jerk you are,’ you purred, scolding him.

‘Don’t act like we’re not doing this again soon,’ Baekhyun smirked, planting a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

‘I’m so going to get you for this, Baek. I will!’ You threatened, allowing him to sneakily drag his tongue over your lower lip in a playful apology lick before you pushed him away to yawn again.

‘I’ll be waiting,’ he chuckled and moved closer again to stroke your back tenderly. ‘Just have some rest first, kitten.’

A/N: Whew, my first hybrid au posted 🤗 I hope you guys love the multi-faceted wolf!Baekhyunie haha Let me know whether he was different from what you’d expected. And I’m still encouraging you to share your thoughts on what kind of aus / tropes you enjoy 😊 It’s always interesting to find out what my readers like. Thank you for sticking around and welcome to the blog if you’re new!

#baekhyun smut #hybrid!baek #icequeenbae fics #baekhyun x reader #exowritersnet #wolf!baek #baekhyun x you #baekhyun fic #baekhyun scenario #Girl Im Your Catnip

[quentinbecks]

Summary: Charlie left Hope County years ago hoping never to come back. But when she learns of her parents involvement with the local doomsday cult, she finds herself heading back to a life she thought she left behind. (Begins two years before the reaping/events of the game)

Words: 5 k

Warnings: The typical lack of boundaries from the Seeds, slight use of violence, mentions of violence and death, peer pressure to use drugs (bliss), and this is a big one, lots of talk of anxiety/ build up to a panic attack.

A/N: Thank you so much to @adelaidedrubman and @johnnycranes for being my betas/second and third eyes on this! And to @smut-goblin for hitting me with the writing stick! You have no idea how much I appreciate you guys 💕 Since the atonement process begins now, hopefully I can start putting these out in a timely manner from here on out.

Chapter 4: Snakes in the Garden

“We’ll begin the process of atonement immediately.”

Charlie glances up at the man through her lashes. She should be trying to run away; pushing his hands off of her face, but she can’t. Frozen in place with John’s hands cupping her cheeks; their foreheads pressed together. From this angle she can see all the freckles that adorn his neck and collarbone. It almost makes him seem human.

“I thought,” she stammers, “I thought I was just getting baptized. That’s what we agreed to.”

John sighs, pulling away to look down at her; hands still gripping her face. “You will be cleansed, you will confess all of your sins, and then you will atone. That’s the only way you can reach true salvation. And you did just promise me you would allow me the gift of saving you,” he grits out, the hold on her face getting tighter as he goes on.

Charlie squirms away, attempting to free herself without making matters worse. “You’re hurting me,” she hisses as she grabs a hold of his hands. She may be willing to play along with his mind games; keep up whatever foolish charade she needs to to stay safe, but she draws the line at having pain inflicted on her.

The Baptist just nods as he backs away, hands held up as if to show her he won’t touch her.

Too fucking late.

But there was no apology, and Charlie can’t really say she’s surprised. “Listen,” she says as she leans against the brick wall, fingers rubbing the spots where her face was held, “you can have my soul or my salvation or whatever the fuck it is you want. But what happens to me afterwards?”

If she’s being honest, Charlie is afraid of the answer. Does she get to have a normal life? Just one within the parameters of the cult’s rules? Will they force her to marry another member of the project in one of those giant, mass weddings like the Moonies? Or will they just kill her? It’s selfish and would be a great betrayal to her friends, but she would marry The Father himself if it meant keeping them safe.

John sighs, sitting on the couch, legs crossed and arms spread across the back; posture too casual for such a tense environment. “I think it’s best we take the process day by day.”

Charlie glares at the man, only receiving a chuckle in return as he notices her olive eyes fill with rage. “Relax, sweetheart. I won’t send you back up to the mountains; back up to my big, bad, brother.”

Sitting down in the chair across from him, Charlie wills herself to calm down. The shock of the situation is starting to wear off rapidly and she can feel the panic inside her start to rise just as fast.

“Can we at least discuss the immediate future? Like, me going home?”

“What,” John teases, a hint of faux sadness in his voice, “you don’t like it here?”

Not really she thinks. But she would rather not vocalize her thoughts; too tired from all of the youngest Seed’s threats and games. She’s pretty sure she’ll combust from stress if she has to stay at the ranch a moment longer.

“Haven’t you had enough fun tormenting me for one day. I’m just,” her voice shakes and she can feel her heart start to pound; her anxiety starting to make itself known, “not in the mood for this shit. Please. Just let me go home.”

Charlie wishes she could kick her own ass at this very moment. Uncomfortable with becoming so emotional in front of John, but there was only so long that false sense of bravado and heroism could last. But the sight of his guest on the verge of a nervous breakdown does seem to have an effect on the man.

“Wait here.” He says, standing up and heading towards the door. He turns back before stepping out to look at her. “Don’t leave before I get back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

John just gives her a smirk before leaving. Flopping back onto the chair with a sigh, Charlie closes her eyes. She’s sure trying to take a power nap in a herald’s house is just asking for trouble, but she’s too exhausted to care.

She’s barely relaxed for more than thirty seconds when the door bursts open causing her to jump.

“Charlene, this is Deanna. She’ll be taking you back.”

“What about you?” Charlie cringes inwardly at herself. Now she knows she really needs to get out of here, the environment is clearly taking a toll on her sanity quicker than she anticipated.

A faint smile creeps across John’s lips before he rights himself. “Don’t worry. Deanna is one of my most trusted chosen.”

Charlie takes in the woman she’s being handed off to. She’s not much older than her, tall, tan, and athletic. She can tell by the excited grin on the chosen’s face that the other woman will most likely get on her nerves.

“Hello, sister,” Deanna says with a wave.

“We’re not quite there yet.”

“Here,” John drops a white hardcover on her lap. “Try to read this before your baptism.”

Charlie thumbs through the book curiously. She may not have had any sort of religious education, but she’s pretty sure this isn’t the traditional Christian text.

“Is this a bible?”

“It’s the Book of Joseph.” The chosen chirps from across the room. “It shows us the hardships the Father went through and how God spoke to him and showed him the path; the path that would save us all from the Collapse.”

“Sounds enlightening.”

“It is.” John is behind her now, hands on her shoulders. “But as much as I would love to keep you here to continue this conversation, I thought you wanted to leave.”

Charlie recoils at his usage of the word “keep”. She can’t see the man, but she’s sure he’s wearing an arrogant smirk; a smirk that she would happily slap off of his face if she wasn’t trying to behave.

Nodding, she gets up. “Thank you for the talk. It’s been… eye-opening.”

John leans over the chair as he beams at her. “I’m just glad you agreed to let me,” he pauses as if he’s contemplating his words, “work with you.”

“Well, you didn’t leave me with much of a choice. Certain death or,” she gestures towards him, “you. And I like being alive, thank you very much.”

Charlie doesn’t bother to wait for a response, pushing past the chosen and out the door to wait on the steps. She doesn’t need to wait very long as Deanna follows after her almost immediately. “My truck’s down there,” the woman points down the driveway to an old, white pickup with a black Eden’s Gate sigil on the hood.

Following silently behind the other woman, she tries to catch her breath. Relax, she chants to herself internally. In only twenty minutes you’ll be safe. Charlie tells herself she can do this as she gets in the car. All she has to do is wait a few, short minutes and she can scream and cry as much as she wants to.

The car ride is silent for the most part and Charlie is glad for it. Until about halfway to her parent’s house when the chosen turns to look at her nervously. “So,” she pauses, chewing on her lip, “are you excited to be joining the project?”

Charlie gives her a snort in response. Leaning her head against the glass, she closes her eyes. “That’s an overstatement.”

“Well, I’m thrilled to have you here. I really like your mom.” Deanna gives her a grin before turning back to the road. “And besides, we don’t have many young women. It’ll be nice to have a friend.”

Friend Charlie scoffs. “Let’s just take this day by day,” she says, repeating the exact phrase John used on her earlier.

She’s relieved to see her parent’s house come into view as they turn the bend. Grabbing onto the handle, the young woman prepares to jump out the minute the truck pulls into the drive.

Charlie goes to shut the door when Deanna calls out to her. “I know you’re scared or angry or whatever it is you’re feeling, but I’m happy you’re here. Maybe we’ll even get to work at the ranch together.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Slamming the door closed, Charlie heads towards the house. She looks back to watch the chosen back out. Once she’s absolutely sure she’s gone, Charlie heads to the bunker in the backyard.

Clutching The Book of Joseph that hasn’t left her hands since she left John’s house, she climbs down the ladder. Charlie gags once she’s inside the bunker, the musty air that hits her makes her think that it’s been years since anyone has been down there.

She barely makes it to the couch before her breath becomes labored, adding to her already rising blood pressure. Tossing the book on the sofa she begins to pace around the room. What is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to explain this to Eli? Will Mary May even trust her again after this?

Letting out a frustrated cry, Charlie slinks to the floor. She has to make them understand she’s doing this for them.

But are you really? Pops into her mind. She offered to join the project the moment she felt her life was in danger, not her friends. Protection for her friends only came as part of the bargain after she agreed to have her soul saved.

But is it really wrong to want to save yourself? To value your own life? Not really, she thinks. Trying not to dwell too hard on the guilt that’s eating at her, Charlie goes to pick up the radio she notices lying dusty and dormant on the desk.

Blowing the dust off, she turns the dials until she finds the channel that would reach Eli and the Wolf’s Den.

Pausing to sniffle, she presses down on the button to talk. “Hello? Eli? Tammy? Anyone? It’s Charlie.” She clears her throat awkwardly as she waits for a response. “Um, over?” She adds.

“Ya know, it’s not really necessary to say over.”

“I know, Wheaty, but no one was answering.”

Charlie can hear the younger man laugh into the microphone. “Well, ya gotta give us more than ten seconds to get to the radio, Charlie.”

“Patience has never been my strong suit.” Sighing, she bites her lip. Not sure of how to go about relaying the message about the mole in the militia; not even sure she should be telling them this. But, it’s the right thing to do. And it’s not like she made a promise to John about what she would do with the information either way.

“Is Eli around?”

“He’s out scoutin’ right now. Whatcha need?”

Charlie knows it’s not Wheaty who’s the betrayer, but she has a bad feeling about repeating the news over the airwaves.

“Is anyone else from the militia there?”

There’s a long pause over the line as she waits for the young militiaman’s answer.

“It’s just me and Tammy here. Why what’s wrong?”

Picking up the radio, Charlie goes to sit on the dilapidated couch. She takes in a deep breath, trying to quell the feeling in her gut that’s telling her she’s making a mistake.

“Tell them that there’s a snake in the garden. They snitched on me to the Seeds. They know I killed one of Jacob’s hunters and I-”

“Who is it? Are you at The Veteran’s Center?” Wheaty interrupts her. There’s a hitch in his breath as he asks his next question. “Did they take you?”

“No,” Charlie can feel tears start to fall and she digs her nails into her thigh to stop herself from openly showing her distress, “but I can’t come back to the Wolf’s Den anymore. That’s why I need you to report back to Eli, shit even Tammy, what I just told you.”

“But why-”

She lets out a deep sigh before cutting him off. “Can you just trust me? I’m trying to protect you. All I ask in return is you get rid of your rat infestation.”

Charlie waits, the static of the radio the only response.

“You got it.”

“Thanks, kid. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

And with that she flicks off the power, unable to continue the conversation; unable to accept her newly minted fate.

Tossing the machine onto the ground, Charlie falls back onto the couch. She decides to spend the rest of her day inside the bunker, certain her parents won’t come searching for her here. She isn’t ready to hear the exuberance of her mother when she tells her the news of her joining the cult; if it was up to her she would have offered Charlie’s hand in marriage the moment she had stepped foot onto the compound.

Though, Christine has probably already found out if John was actually telling the truth about there being a meeting. She can’t bear to think about the two of them conspiring about her; about her future. It’s too much to deal with. The whole day has been too emotionally taxing for the young woman.

Charlie reaches behind her, picking up the stray Book of Joseph; her curiosity getting the better of her. She’s pretty sure the whole book will be monotonous; mundane monologues about their terrible childhoods. It’s the same bullshit with every cult leader. Regardless, she wants to find the juicy bits for future ammunition for the next time John Seed wants to throw jabs at her about her own youth. They’re alike, her ass.

Opening the book to a random page, Charlie settles in. Admittedly, the book is a hard read, both from Joseph’s unreliable narration and the abuse the two eldest Seeds regularly suffered. What catches her eye, though, are the bits of a young, barely more than a toddler, John being beaten; abuse so bad it forced the brothers into foster homes.

The new information forces Charlie to slam the book shut. She can’t help but feel guilt and pity for the man, all of them if she’s being honest, but especially John. She doesn’t know if these feelings are stemming from the parental neglect she suffered as a kid or if it’s because of her own desperate desire to become a mother; to be able to give a child a life she was deprived of. She doesn’t even know if any of this is actually; maybe it’s all a ploy for people like her to feel empathy for them.

Shaking her head, Charlie closes her eyes. Do not think of them as anything more than the monsters they are, she chides herself.

Curling up into a ball on the couch, she tries to relax; tries to clear her mind of all the dizzying emotions that came from today. After what feels like hours of breathing exercises and mantras to shut her brain off, she finally falls asleep.

The nightmare is the same as it is every night. Charlie finds herself being hunted through the Whitetails by one of Jacob’s red camo clad chosen. And just like always she kills them; just as it happened in real life. But this time, the outcome has changed.

It’s still her blood splattered face that’s exposed after the ski mask is ripped off, but the eyes staring back at her are no longer the hazel eyes of the recently deceased hunter. This time they’re sky blue; blue like the eye color shared by all of the male Seeds.

Charlie wakes up with a start. Heart racing wildly, she puts her palm over her chest in a vain attempt to calm it down.

“Fuck me.”

She’s no dream interpreter, but Charlie is definitely concerned this means something. Means that she’s become prey to the Seeds; that she’s become some sort of toy for them to play with at will. It’s distressing, especially since she’s worked for years to ensure she would never be in such a vulnerable position with men again. And now here she is; in the belly of the beast, but this time it’s worse. This time it’s with cult leaders rather than a gaslighting husband.

“I need a drink,” she mutters to herself as she sits up.

Charlie heads up to her parents house, the early summer sun blinding her as she exits the bunker. “Mom? Daddy?” she calls out once she’s made it back inside. The calls for her parents are met with dead silence.

Searching through rooms gives her no leads on where they could be until she finds a note plastered to the refrigerator.

“Princess,

Mammon and I will be out for most of the day. You can find your mother up at Black Horse Peak if there’s an emergency. I’ll be out fishing on the bay with a few friends from church. Both of us should be back by dinner time. Don’t get into any trouble while we’re gone, ma fille.

Love,

Papa”

Charlie sighs. She was hoping to not be alone after the nightmare she had, let alone the day she had previously. But, on the bright side now she has time to come up with a way to explain to her parents about her change of heart towards Eden’s Gate.

Deciding the best course of action would be to tell them over dinner; a dinner where she can spike her own drink to take the edge off. There’s no worries about them being disappointed or angry with her. No, she needs to drink to hide the disappointment in her own mother who will be delighted that her boss managed to break down her daughter into joining his family’s cult. In one day too. What a feat!

A couple hours pass with Charlie trying and failing to concoct a meal when there’s a knock at the door. Immediately going on guard since she wasn’t expecting any guests, she grabs a kitchen knife off the counter.

As she heads over to the door she peeks outside the window to see who her surprise visitor is. None other John Seed is standing there on her porch; a look of fury written all over his face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she says, slamming the knife down on the entrance table.

Opening the door with a bit of trepidation, Charlie begins to panic. Why would he come here when he could have just had her brought to him? Why come when she’s all alone? The normally well-coiffed Seed looks frazzled; his usual slick backed hair falling loosely in his face.

“What do you want?” she asks through the crack in the door. Instead of giving her a response, John pushes his way into the house.

“Oh, okay. Please, come inside,” Charlie grumbles as she slams the door shut.

She watches as John paces through the living room; watching as he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dark chuckle as he does so. The situation started out unsettling and now it’s just flat out creeping her out.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” John asks, finally looking up at her.

Charlie blinks at him trying to understand what she could have possibly done in the last twenty four hours to anger him this badly. And then it dawns on her. She told the Whitetails about the mole amongst them and she’s guessing Eli handled the problem.

Oops.

“What exactly did you expect me to do? Allow your brother to keep getting intel on my friends? So he could, what, pounce on them when the timing was right? I don’t think so.”

“No, you’re right.” He clears his throat before leaning against the wall, no longer manically pacing around the room, but calm and collected. “I trusted you too early; had hoped you would be grateful for the gift I’ve given you, but I see now I was mistaken. Instead, you would rather squander it and try and pull off these childish antics of yours.”

John pushes himself off the wall, slowly making his way towards her; the action preemptively making her back herself against the counter.

“But I’m not worried about it. And you know why?” He knocks on the table as he continues on.

Charlie shakes her head “no”, uncertainty over whether that was the right answer setting in.

“Because Joseph saw you walk through the Gates of Eden with us; with me. So, I know all of the trouble you’re putting us through will be worth it in the end. I just need you to recognize your purpose and start behaving.”

They’re so close now; too close for Charlie’s comfort. She puts a hand between them; her fingers lightly touching his torso. The touch makes her flinch, but after he put her face in a vice-like grip just the day before, she’s not letting him get that close again.

“Walking through the Gates of Eden? What does that even mean?” She furrows her brow, she’s pretty certain Joseph is just making up visions to have his brother keep her in line, nevertheless the possible euphemism unnerves her. “Is that like heaven? Are you here to commit a murder suicide?”

Charlie quickly realizes that that may be the wrong thing to say when she sees the scowl cross John’s face.

He leans in closer to her, forcing her makeshift barrier of her wrist to drop. “You are in no position to be making jokes, sweetheart”, the Baptist glares down at her. “Because you, Charlene, in less than three weeks have managed to get two of our chosen killed. One by your own hand and,” John looks down towards her lips, “and one by your big fucking mouth,” he hisses at her.

“Good.” Charlie shoves him away, trying to reclaim some of her personal space. “That last one snitched on me; took my life away from me. So I guess we’re even now. Eye for an eye. Isn’t that what you people believe in?”

“You know, you’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.” Sitting on their loveseat, John splays himself out as if he owns the place; the overly cocky attitude in full swing again.

Admittedly, Charlie does feel some guilt over the news of another chosen dead. There’s a part of her that’s curious about who they were in the militia, but the other part doesn’t need that on her conscience; not when the first death has been haunting her dreams nightly.

“Joseph entrusted me with your atonement; he still has faith that you’ll come around. Jacob still believes you deserve to be punished. Now I’m of two sides,” he says, leaning forward. “I believe you need to be reprimanded for this; for making some of the project’s best hunters spend their morning burying their friend. But death is too harsh.”

“What – what were you thinking of doin’?” Charlie stutters, her drawl starting to slip out.

“I was thinking of moving up your baptism. To tonight.”

“No!” Charlie all but yells as she marches over to where John is perched. “I – I haven’t even read your brother’s book yet! I don’t know what I’m getting myself into! I don’t even have anything to wear!”

She’s practically in between the man’s legs and she’s half tempted to bend down and scream in his face; make him feel as small as he constantly makes her feel. But it’s inappropriate and she immediately rights herself of the urge.

“None of that matters. All that matters to me is that you start the process soon.”

It dawns on Charlie that she should be questioning John on why he is so insistent on keeping her alive; what he meant by her walking through the Gates of Eden with him specifically. But a voice inside of her tells that she’s certain to find out sooner rather than later; and she might not like the answers she gets.

“Can I at least find something decent here to wear?”

“Yes, but,” John shifts uncomfortably, “I need you to keep the door open. I can’t trust you to not try and run.”

Charlie laughs as she heads into her parent’s room. “Where could I run to that you wouldn’t find me?”

She shuts the door a crack, partly out of habit, partly because she doesn’t want John watching her undress. The thought of him seeing her naked alone makes her grimace.

It takes her a few minutes, but she’s able to find something buried in the closet. It's pink and floral, not her usual color, but it’s a sundress and that’s all that matters to her. Pulling her shorts and cropped top off she watches in the mirror as John loiters around her family’s dining room.

Uncomfortable with the Baptist going through their belongings, she quickly pulls the dress on; tossing her honey brown hair into a ponytail.

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, you’re ready,” he says as he comes and leans on the doorframe to the bedroom. “Like I said earlier, I can’t trust you. So I need you to do me a favor before we can leave.” John pulls a flask from his jacket pocket, handing it over to her as if she’s just supposed to accept a drink from him.

“I thought you guys banned this shit? Too good for a stiff drink or two.”

“It’s not alcohol.”

Charlie scoffs. He wants to roofie her so she’ll behave; be a good girl for the Seeds. And he thinks she’s going to consent to this? Fuck that.

“Then I’m not drinking it. Not until you tell me what’s in it.” She has spent way too many years practicing drink safety to just take a drugged drink, even if the man giving it to her is warning her in advance.

“It’s bliss,” John says as if she would understand what that means. But he sees the confusion written all over her face. “It’s safe. You’ll be fine. It’ll keep you calm for a couple of hours. Enough to get you through the cleansing . And after that,” he smiles down at her, “we can work on building trust.”

“What if I say no?”

John’s smile turns sour suddenly, stepping forward to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Like I said earlier, I’ll be forced to take your sins out the people you love the-“

“Okay, enough with the threats,” Charlie groans as she snatches the flask from his hands. “You’re a huge dick, ya know that?” She shoves past him, “a real pushy asshole.”

Uncapping the flask, she takes a sniff. It’s oddly sweet smelling. Maybe it won’t be so bad? She thinks to herself. John watches her intently as she puts the container to her lips. She can’t help but feel that he’s enjoying this too much.

The drink itself is bitter in spite of its fragrant scent. The taste makes her want to throw the flask across the room; then maybe projectile vomit afterwards. She manages to get a bit down before handing it off to John.

“I think I’m ready,” she says, trying to hold the bile in her throat down.

John nods, heading out the door. Charlie starts to feel nervous as she follows suite; afraid that she may pass out and be taken to God knows where to have God knows what done to her.

“Don’t worry about the door. I’ll have one of my chosen let your family know where you are so they can join us.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, allowing John to open the car door for her to get in.

Eli and the Whitetails will come for you soon. They know you’re in trouble now and he’ll come and save you. They have to. She thinks as she watches the youngest Seed walk around the vehicle to get in as well. And she wants his head on a platter when they do.

There’s not much time to dwell on thoughts of being rescued. John has barely backed out of the driveway by the time Charlie has started seeing green and feeling dizzy. Her head drops back to fall against the cool leather of the headrest.

“I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a moment,” she slurs; eyes drooping shut. Before she knows it, she’s out cold; on the way to start the most interesting chapter of her life thus far.

#fic: stillness in woe #john seed x oc #john seed #oc: charlie berger #far cry 5 fic #yay! baptism next chapter #we’re really in it now

[merakiaes]

Forbidden - Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman

Pairing: Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This is a bit smutty at the end, extremely slow-burning and uneventful and I’m not happy at all with the outcome of this but I still hope you like it. Let me know what you think and send in more Sad Eyes requests xx Not proofread and Spanish translations at the end!

Wordcount: 4287

Summary: When in a forbidden relationship, the best thing might not be to make out right outside the house in which the person you’re most desperately trying to hide it from lives. Or is it? 

The human mind was designed to always crave what it couldn’t have, to be lured in by the forbidden and make its host do anything in their power to get it.

There was just a certain charm about it, about the forbidden, that made it so unspeakably desirable, forbidden pleasures being loved immoderately while when they were lawful, they didn’t excite the same kind of desire.

That’s why, when you reached seventeen, you started developing a certain kind of attraction for your brother’s right hand man and best friend.

You had known Sad Eyes for as long as him and Oscar had been in the Santos together and you had never seen him as anything but another annoyingly protective older brother.

He was older than Oscar by three years, making him twenty-five by the time you were at your sweet seventeen, so a relationship between the two of you wouldn’t even be legal. But for some reason, that only made it even more exciting for you.

Your brother had always taken care of you and your younger brother Cesar, raising you like you were his own kids despite the fact that he was only five years older than you.

So naturally, he was fiercely protective over the two of you, determined to shield you from the bad parts of life, especially when it came to you.

The second you reached puberty and your eyes opened to your budding sexuality, he had you on a leash so tight you could barely breathe some days.

You weren’t allowed out by yourself, either Oscar or Sad Eyes constantly following you around wherever you went, and God forbid if you even thought about going on a date.

Boys were a big no-no, no matter how innocent, non-judgmental and kind-hearted they were. You weren’t allowed to go out with them, and they for sure weren’t about to step a foot inside your house because he knew what they were after, Oscar always told you.

They didn’t want your heart, he said, querían tu virginidad.

But little did he know, you weren’t his innocent little sister anymore.

After going through your very belated puberty, a lot of the younger Santos began looking at you differently. 

You had grown into your body, curves growing fuller and face losing its baby fat. You had opinions now, morals. You were fierce and taught yourself your own worth and not to take shit from anyone anymore.

Long story short, you were everything a cholo would want in a ruca, and their shameless staring and flirting didn’t go unnoticed by your brother.

He would tell them off every time he caught them looking, having them quivering with fear, and if, against all odds, someone was stupid enough to actually make a move on you, he would have them jumped, making it known extremely quickly that you were off-limits to all of them.

But while you were used to his intensely excessive, the way Sad Eyes would suddenly jump at everyone who looked at you for too long was new territory for you.

You were used to him being protective, but before, he had always been the one out of him and Oscar to keep his calm.

He always pretended he was doing it all in their leader’s name, telling them “You’re lucky Spooky ain’t here, fool”, but you were smart enough to see through it and conclude that he was one of the many Santos who now saw you in a different light.

And the more you thought about it, the more you noticed; the short, lingering glances whenever he walked past you, the small touches and acts of affection when Oscar wasn’t looking. And even when he was looking, he was so blinded by the trust he had for his best friend that he never batted an eye.

That’s what awakened the feeling of attraction toward him inside of you to begin with. He was always so close, always so available, just hanging around your house every day like a perfect opportunity to defy your brother’s ‘no boys for as long as you live under my roof’-rule.

True to your suspicions, Sad Eyes had, in fact, developed a new kind of attraction for you when you had gone through puberty.

He could barely recognize you anymore, it was like you were an entirely different person, with an entirely different pull; one he couldn’t resist no matter how much he tried in the end.

He had tried to a start, though, taking distance from you when he noticed your painfully obvious attempts to seduce him in order to test your theory. But it was hard for him to do so when he was the only one besides himself that Oscar trusted with you.

When he didn’t have time, he was always the one sent to babysit you whenever you went out, and he knew he couldn’t tell him no, because if he did, how the hell would he explain it? 

He wouldn’t have been able to, because he barely even knew what he was feeling, himself.

But he got that question all answered when he was tasked with going with you to the mall one day, just the two of you.

All these years, the two of you had never seen each other as anything other than siblings, and now all of the sudden, you were hurrying to undress each other in the back of his car while your lips moved together in perfect synchronization.

Yeah, it sounded disgusting, going from seeing each other as siblings and then heading into a relationship. But it was pure; figuratively speaking, that is, because the activities you partook in from then on were everything but.

He saw you in an entirely different light, falling head over heels for you when he realized that you were so much more than just Spooky’s little sister.

To a start, you were just using him to get back at said brother, having so much fun doing the exact thing he had forbidden you from doing.

But the longer you kept your little affair going, the more emotionally attached he got to you, and the more attached he got to you, the more his emotions showed through the way he handled you; so carefully, so genuinely, looking at you like you were the sun in his own little solar system.

In turn, you caught feelings for him, too, and suddenly everything got so much more complicated, everyone having failed to mention the fact that forbidden affairs were all fun and games until feelings showed up to the playground.

He was never supposed to mean this much to you, you were never supposed to fall so hard, or at all, for that matter, but you did. So had he, and suddenly, you were just fucked.

Sneaking around behind your brother’s back got so much more stressful from then on.

Before, the worst that could have happened if he ever found out was that he would forbid you to see each other which, with no strings attached, didn’t seem so bad.

But now… Now feelings had been caught and suddenly that possible outcome truly was the worst thing that could happen.

You no longer enjoyed the rush you had gotten the first few times. In fact, you didn’t feel it at all. All you felt now was anxiety. You were scared for the first time in a long time, scared to lose the man you had grown to love.

What you had originally planned to just be a few quick fucks turned into months, turned into over a year of seeing each other in secret.

So more than anything, you were scared for his sake, because if Oscar found out now, the consequences would without a doubt be a lot more severe than they would have been if he had found out at the beginning.

Both you and Sad Eyes knew it, and it was stressing him out. 

He was a Santo. He had been held at gunpoint and had his life threatened more times than he could count, but being beaten and even killed by the person who had been his brother for so many years awakened an entirely new kind of fear inside of him.

It made him doubt your relationship, and no matter how many times you tried convincing him that you would never let Oscar hurt him or force you apart, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep that promise if he ever made up his mind to do so.

The clock was a little past ten at night when you headed out of your house on this particular Thursday evening.

You had been sitting in your bed, talking with Monse on Skype, when you had gotten the text from Sad Eyes telling you to come outside.

You had scoffed at the mere sight of it, your entire attitude turning sour, but nonetheless, you had bid your brother’s girlfriend goodbye, pulled on a pair of leggings to accompany your night slip and sneaked outside.

Oscar and Cesar were out doing God knows what so you didn’t necessarily need to hide from them right there and then, but the street you lived on was full of Santos and their nosy families and you knew that if any of them caught you, the word would reach your brother in no time.

And that was not something you wanted to happen.

“Spooky home?” Was the first thing Sad Eyes asked you once you had gotten into the passenger seat of his car. Not even a hi.

You scoffed at that, leaning your elbow on the car door and in turn leaning your cheek on your knuckles as you stared straight ahead, not even bothering to look at him. “No, but you still shouldn’t have parked so close to the house.”

“I needed to see you.” You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, but you ignored it. 

“Really?” You sniffed, glaring forward. “That’s not the impression I’ve been getting by you ignoring me for almost a week.”

He sighed from beside you but didn’t say anything, knowing you well enough by now that he just needed to let you get your anger out.

“I called you, every day.” You continued. “And I lost count of how many texts I sent you after the first fifty.”

His hand reached over the console to take yours in his. You didn’t stop him, but you didn’t squeeze his hand back when he squeezed yours either.

“It took everything in me not to call you back, mami. And every time I didn’t, I almost did.” He answered quietly. “You have no idea how hard it is to force myself to stop thinking about you. I couldn’t.”

You swallowed, turning even more irritated at the feeling of your body betraying your mind, relaxing at his touch as he caressed your knuckles. “Why does it feel like you’re going to hit me with a ‘but’?”

“We need to end this thing between us. I need to stay away from you. Spooky’s been getting too suspicious.” Ah, there it was, the same conversation that you’d had more times than you were able to count on both of your hands.

He would start contemplating your relationship and everything he knew, ignore you for a certain amount of time, return and tell you that you needed to break up, and it would always end the same way; with you in each other’s arms.

But despite knowing the whole routine by heart at this point, it never failed to make your blood bubble with anger.

“Then stay away.” You snapped back, finally turning your head to look at him with one quick turn of your head, and when doing so, your eyes instantly met his, finding that he had already been looking at you.

He shook his head. “No puedo.”

“That so?” You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and he sighed.

“Come on, bella. Don’t be like that. I had to go away.” He reached his hand out to touch your cheek, gingerly brushing a strand of hair out of your face while he scanned your face. “I would take a bullet for you any day but this shit is just stressing me out. When Spooky jumped that cabrón out of Los Santos for trying to feel you up I just-“

“It triggered your fight or flight instinct.” You interrupted, swallowing as you felt your glare turn soft.

His eyes flickered back up to yours and he nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you’re here now.” You pointed out, raising your head in a small nod at him. “So what changed your mind?”

His face pulled into a concentrated expression, his eyes staring straight into yours and his hand cradling your cheek. “I missed you, mami.” He replied quietly and you instantly felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname.

“Yeah?” You inquired, instinctively reaching up to touch the hand at your cheek and your other hand finally squeezing his back rather than laying limp.

He nodded and when he started leaning over the console, you followed his lead, your faces ending up only inches apart a second later. “You have no idea.”

Your breath started getting heavy from the intense proximity, feeling like he was staring straight into your soul. “How much?” You inquired again and he didn’t miss a beat.

“I can show you better than I can tell you.” He brought his thump down to your lips, pulling at the bottom one lightly.

Your body immediately started reacting accordingly, your stomach erupting into a flutter of butterflies that went straight up to your chest and down to your core.

“I thought you said we needed to end things.” You breathed out, but meanwhile, your body was twisting in his direction almost as if working on autopilot.

“We do.” He agreed lowly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours. ”But I can’t stay away from you. You’re like a drug and there’s not a single sober vein left in my body. Shit’s dangerous, but it’s too late to turn back now. I’m already addicted to you.”

You didn’t say anything, simply raising a hand of your own to his face to drag it over the tattoo on his neck and in response, he sucked in a long, satisfied breath, just like you would when taking a hit.

“What’s that you always tell me?” He asked then, opening his eyes again and meeting your gaze through slightly hooded lids.

Your lips instantly pulled into a smirk when seeing that his pupils had dilated, his brown irises now a shade darker, and only getting more so the more you caressed the side of his neck. “Better oops then what if.” You replied, and he nodded, the corners of his lips tugging slightly.

“Yeah.” He agreed, pulling his lower lip into his mouth briefly with his teeth while looking down at yours, before releasing it and looking back up into your eyes. “You’re irresistible.”

Your lips automatically pulled into a wide smile, without a doubt showing off the dimples both you and Oscar had inherited from your mom.

At the sight, his face turned sincere again, eyes turning soft as he kept caressing your face. “Thank you. For seeing me.” He spoke softly.

“I’m always here for you.” You smiled back, leaning into his touch. “You know that.”

He snickered, brushing his lips against yours ever so lightly. “Even when I’ve been acting like a pendejo for the past week.”

You hummed, chuckling along with him. “We both know this isn’t a normal relationship.” You pointed out and for the first time, his lips pulled into a smile to match yours.

“I missed you.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours in the shortest, most featherlight kiss.

You smiled at tingling sensation that went through your entire body at the feeling, inching even closer to him. “I missed you, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He chuckled, indicating to the attitude you’d had when first getting into the car, but he turned serious quickly again. “You’re too good for me, mi amor.”

His eyes left yours, turning his attention to the side as he brought a hand up to brush your hair away from your bare shoulder.

You analyzed his face, taking note of how the corner of his lip turned up slightly as he hooked his finger under the strap of your black night slip.

The next second, the thin strap was sliding down your upper arm with a simple brush of his hand, and the next thing you knew, your lips were locked together in a feverish kiss, a week’s worth of emotions spilling out.

Your hands immediately went to the back of his neck as your lips parted and your tongues touched together.

His hands were pulling you over the console and into his lap in no time and for once you found yourself extremely lucky that he never got around to fixing the broken honk, or else the entire block would have known what you were up to at this point with the way you were pressed against the steering wheel.

Your entire body was a mess of tingles and butterflies from the growing anticipation and you instinctively grinded down onto his denim-clad lap, feeling him growing underneath you almost instantly.

At the feeling of the growing friction, you grinded down again while breathing heavily into the kiss, and when his hands gripped onto your waist tightly, a guttural groan leaving his throat, you knew you were doing good.

You smirked against his lips, satisfied at the effect you always had him, how you could have him more or less eating out of your palm by such a small movement.

After a good minute of kissing, you finally broke apart to breathe and when doing so, your hands moved from the back of his neck to the front of his button-up, wasting no time in starting to work on the buttons.

While you occupied yourself with getting him out of his shirt, his hands moved down from your waist to grip at your hips, then proceeding to push you down harder on his crotch while latching on to your neck.

The feeling of his tongue brushing over your sweet spot had a moan leaving your lips in an instant, your head falling back at the feeling and your hands momentarily stopping what they were doing to pull at his collar.

“Don’t be so rough.” You muttered to him as he began sucking at your sweet spot, his hands now tugging lightly on your hair, but your body betrayed your words, letting out another moan.

He snickered against your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck and shoulder as you pulled yourself together and returned to the task of unbuttoning his shirt.

“I thought you liked it rough, baby.” He mumbled into your shoulder, and the sound of his husky voice was enough to send another flurry of excited butterflies through your abdomen and down.

“You know I do, but I don’t think Oscar would appreciate it very much if he came home to see me marked when I was clean when he left.”

Your chest heaved up and down rapidly as you finally finished with his buttons, bringing his head up from your neck with your hands to make him look at you, putting on your best innocent face and asking: “Do you, papi?”

A dark expression crossed over his already aroused face, and a hiss left his lips when you grinded down onto his lap again.

“Shit.” He cursed in a breath, his head falling back into the headrest of the seat and his hands squeezing down harder at your hips.

You smirked in contentment and wasted no time in taking his face in your hands to pull him into a new kiss, fingers moving on to work on his belt.

You were so wrapped up in each other that you completely missed the red Impala returning and parking in the driveway of your house, and how the two people who had been riding in it caught sight of the familiar car parked just down the road.

It wasn’t until a loud bang on the hood of the car reached your ears that you noticed the two pair of eyes now watching you, the two of you jumping as far apart as you possibly could in the cramped position you were stuck in and your eyes instantly locking with your brother’s when you turned around to look out the windshield.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, fuck, is right! Get out here!” Oscar yelled at you as he pushed his hands off the hood of the car and stormed around it to the driver’s seat, having been able to read your lips.

Sad Eyes hurried to clasp his belt buckle back up while you pulled your strap back up on your shoulder and began shuffling off his lap when Oscar ripped the door open.

“Oscar-“

“Look, Spooky-“

You and Sad Eyes began at the same time as you scrambled out of the car. Your eyes were wide and guilt was written all over your face, while Sad Eyes’ face pulled into an expression that could only be described as ‘this is where I die’.

“Cállate!” Oscar had none of it, glaring at you and raising a hand to interrupt you while Cesar stood by his side awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you.

Both of you quietened down, your first instinct being to look at each other. And then, much to yours and everyone else’s surprise, Sad Eyes stepped up to his side and took your hand out of pure, protective instinct.

The small movement didn’t go unnoticed to your brothers and while you met Cesar’s worried eyes with an identical expression, both of you thinking Oscar was going to kill him, it was Oscar’s turn to surprise you by doing the exact opposite.

His face was still pulled into a fierce glare as he took a step back, eyes dangerously narrowed as they kept flickering between the two of you, before finally stopping on you.

Your eyes locked with his and Sad Eyes and Cesar remained silent as they watched him raise a pointed finger at you. “This is the first and last time you keep something like this from me.” He drawled slowly, holding his glare at you for a moment before moving his eyes and finger to his second in command. “Vosotros dos.”

Keeping his finger out, he took a step back forward and poked it into Sad Eyes’ chest roughly. Once, twice and thrice. 

“My sister isn’t a road gig along the way, she’s a fucking destination.” He spoke sternly, glowering at him. “If you’re fucking her, you’re staying with her. Entienden?”

Sad Eyes stared back at him with absolutely zero fear in his eyes, despite how scared he had been for this moment before. “I would never hurt her. La quiero.” He answered without missing a beat and Oscar nodded in response, content with his reply.

“You better.” He said, lowering his arm and taking a step back again, allowing Sad Eyes to slowly wrap his arm around your waist. “You coming inside, or are you gonna keep sneaking around in this piece of junk?”

Your brother kicked the tire of the car next to you and your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re not mad?” You asked, and instantly felt Sad Eyes squeezing down at your hip, silently telling you not to jinx it.

Oscar noticed this, his eyes flickering down to his hand briefly, but he didn’t do anything, simply looking back up at you.

“I’m not happy. But if there’s anyone I’d be okay seeing mi hermana being with, it’s my compa.” He raised his head in a nod of acceptance at Sad Eyes, and you instantly felt him relax beside you. “Now get your asses inside, we’re making albondigas.”

With one last look at you, he turned around and headed straight for the house, and only then did you notice the bag of groceries hanging from his hand.

Cesar, who had been quiet up until then, let out a chuckle once your older brother was out of earshot, causing you to turn to look at him.

“Guess the cat’s out the bag, huh?” He gave you a mocking smirk, balancing on the back of his heels. “Now I finally won’t have to cover up your tracks anymore.”

“You knew?!” You instantly exclaimed, your hand coming out to slap his chest before you could stop yourself.

He laughed, taking a step away from you while raising his arms in defense and shrinking into himself. 

“Do I have a pair of functioning eyes? Of course, I knew.” He replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Oscar might think you’re still his innocent little sister but I know for a fact that you’re the devil.”

Sad Eyes laughed out loud at that, reaching the hand that wasn’t holding on to your waist out to bump against Cesar’s. “You got that right, Lil’ Spooky.” He agreed and you instantly glared at them.

“Stop ganging up on me, pendejos.” You scolded, holding your hand up to your chest to feel your heart beating frantically. “I just had the scare of my life and so did you, you should be pissing yourself, not laughing.”

But you still couldn’t help but get all warm inside at the sound of his laugh, knowing that he no longer had to be that ‘nothing’ when people asked you what you were thinking about.

Finally, you could be with each other without limits and not be forced to sneak around in the shadows, something you wouldn’t have thought possible even in your wildest dreams.

Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

Querían tu virginidad – they wanted your virginity

No puedo – I can’t

Bella – beautiful

Cabrón – bastard

Pendejo – asshole

Mi amor – my love

Vosotros dos – both of you

Entienden? – You feel me?

La quiero – I love her

Mi hermana – my sister

Compa – buddy

#sad eyes #sad eyes x reader #sad eyes imagine #steve villegas #on my block #on my block imagine #on my block x reader #omb #omb x reader #omb imagine #oscar diaz #oscar diaz x reader #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz #spooky #spooky x reader #cesar diaz #cesar diaz x reader

[narniaandplowmen]

to say the truth (or lose his love)

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier Also on AO3 2898 words.

Part 1 of the to say the truth (or lose his love) series

General Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply Complete

In order to fulfil his contract, Geralt has to either kiss his true love, or find the Faery Queen's lost son. He assumes the latter will be easiest.

Jaskier had been feeling antsy for almost the entire day now. He didn't exactly know when it started, but as he looked at the apple Geralt had handed him in lieu of lunch, he suddenly realised that his insides were shaking and he was not at all hungry.

“There's a town three hours north.”  Geralt announced as Jaskier was contemplating the implications of his ever-growing anxiety.

"Ah! Lovely! An actual bed to sleep in tonight!”  He tried to measure his voice, but he knew Geralt could hear the artificiality of it. He had never been a very good actor.

“Hm.”

As they travelled in uncharacteristic silence, Jaskier's antsy feelings only grew and grew. Instead of becoming louder, as he usually did when he was nervous, he turned almost as quiet as the stoic Witcher himself.

“You okay bard?”

“What? Oh! Just looking at these beautiful trees, and all those-”  Jaskier’s voice broke as he suddenly realised that alongside the path grew "buttercups." Fuck.

“You sure you're okay?”

“I'm sure!" Jaskier was sure he was not okay, and he did not know who he was trying to get to believe otherwise.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~ 

“Fae.”  Geralt grumbled before the bard could even ask what the new contract was. "Been stealing the grain. Poisoning the cattle. The mayor's wife is about to give birth, they're fearing a changeling.”

“Aha.”  Jaskier just replied. “Are you waiting till tomorrow?”

“Sun’s still up for another few hours. Might as well try to find them now.”

“Yes. Right. Well. I'll just. Wait here for you to come back. Don't step in any circles, okay?”

And off the bard went, waving his lute questioningly at the innkeeper. Geralt rose an eyebrow, surprised that Jaskier hadn't insisted on coming along, as he usually did. Not that he minded. When the little town's mayor had told him about the village’s problems, Geralt had dreaded the prospect convincing Jaskier to stay behind almost as much as he was dreading fulfilling the contract. Not that he was going to complain, dealing with those damned Fae would be enough of a bother without the ever-blabbering Jaskier digging himself into holes he would not be able to climb out of. Still, weird. The sharp smell of anxiety hadn’t left the bard since early that morning, and Geralt made a mental note to keep a closer eye on him. Just to make sure he stayed okay. Not because they were friends , but, well, Geralt couldn’t imagine that an anxious bard could earn a lot of coin. And winter was coming up, and Geralt wasn’t so heartless as to leave Jaskier for the winter without any sort of security that the man would be okay. Not that he spent his time in Kaer Morhen worrying about the bard. No, they weren’t even friends.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

The Fae were not hard to find. Geralt had stumbled upon the first circle less than half an hour after leaving the village, meaning they had been living there for longer than the mayor had insinuated. Which also, Geralt realised, meant it would be more difficult to make them leave. He grunted and grabbed one of the sugar cubes he usually reserved for Roach, tossing it into the grass in the middle of the circle of blooming dandelions. A voice like the softest bells immediately replied.

“Witcher! Our Queen has been expecting you!”

Their Queen. That explained the proximity to the village. If the Court was big enough that it was ruled by a Queen rather than a Lady, it was properly able to defend itself against angry, overconfident villagers.

“What an honour,”  Geralt grunted sarcastically.

“She's straight ahead,”  the little fairy, a tiny green thing, pointed. “Take a right at the Oak, she's waiting near the buttercups.”

The creature said the final word as if they were supposed to mean something to him. He supposed they did. The bard's clothes always had a buttercup pattern. Not that he had been staring at the bard, no. He had just noticed it whilst repairing one of Jaskier's doubles. Just to stop his whining, not because he cared. He was just a nuisance, making his life more difficult every step of the way.

Ignoring the fairy's pointed look and carefully manoeuvring around the circle, Geralt made his way to the promised Queen.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

“You're back early! I don't suppose the Fae were incredibly forthcoming and ready to move immediately?”  There almost seemed to be hope in the bard's voice.

“No.”  He sighed. “They want payment.”  

“Of course they do. And surely they weren't as forthcoming as to actually tell you what they want?”

“They were.”

“Wait what?” the surprise in Jaskier's voice was genuine. “Since when does m- a Fae Queen clearly state what she wants? That makes it suspiciously easy.”

“How did you know there was a Queen?”

“What did she want? Honey? Fish? Coin?" Jaskier pointedly ignored the question.

“True love's kiss.”

“What.” Geralt almost wished he could have a painting made of the stunned look on the bard’s face. Just because it looked so funny, not because it made the bright blue eyes stand out gorgeously, not because it emphasised the beautiful curve of the young man’s eyebrows, not because- Geralt quickly shook his head.

“She wants me to kiss my true love. Or, alternatively, she wants me to deliver her son home.”

“Ah. So. Great, I'll- I'll go get my stuff. Leave you to- to find Yennefer.”

“Why would I try to find Yennefer?”

“You just said 'true love'?”

The Witcher rolled his eyes. “Yennefer is not my true anything. Now, did you see any suspicious adult men here during your performance?”

“Did I what now?”

Geralt started humming.

“Geralt! Are you singing?! And not even one of my songs?”

“Sh! I’m trying to remember...” And, to Jaskier’s flabbergasted surprise, the Witcher started to softly sing.

“Twenty years he’s come and gone, in winters lies he here.

But now, my child, the time is come, for him he holds so dear

to say the truth, or lose his love, the lute will let you see

my son, at last, should travel home with him he loves or me,

to him he loves or me. ”

Jaskier stared at him, eyes and mouth wide open. “You can sing.”

“That’s not the point, Jask-”

“You. Can. Sing!” The bard now truly sounded offended. “And you say that’s not the point? Geralt, How many times have I tried to get you to sing along with my songs? My ballads? And not even just in public! You refused to sing when we were sitting next to a campfire gods knows where-”

“Jaskier!”

“I have to say Geralt, if I knew it took a meeting with m- with a Fae to get you to sing I would have-”

“Your lute,” Geralt interrupted. “The lute should reveal the fairy prince. Did you see anyone strange whilst I was gone?”

“You can sing.”

“Anyone in the audience? Jaskier, please.”

“Nobody in the audience looked out of the ordinary, Geralt. And I doubt that the fairy prince would calmly stop to listen to music so near to his mother’s court.”

“The Queen said that she knew her son was in the village. We have to ask around, see if anyone here disappears during winters. That must be something people notice.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jaskier laughed, and Geralt couldn’t help but detect a bit of bitterness in the bard’s voice. “But if you’re so insistent, I’ve been asked to perform again when everyone has put their children to bed. So you can sit there and endlessly wait till your medallion starts vibrating or whatever, but I am pretty sure it won’t. There will be no fairy princes in the audience tonight.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

There were no fairy princes in the audience that night. Instead of staying hidden in the shadows, Geralt had wandered through the inn during Jaskier’s performance, carefully observing the guests. He had spoken with the innkeeper, the mayor, a few women who were all too willing to gossip about the ins and outs of everyone in the village, but he had heard nothing that could help. He kept thinking about the words the Queen had sung. The time had come for someone to say the truth? Who? The person the prince held dear? The prince himself? And why would the prince lose that person if the truth wasn’t spoken? He stared blankly as Jaskier carefully wiped the lute down, inspecting it for any potential damages. The lute will let you see.

“Jaskier.”

“Oh, are you done brooding?”

“I need to borrow your lute.”

“Wait, are you telling me you cannot only sing, but also play? Twenty years we have been travelling together, twenty long years and-”

“Not to play. To see.”

“Listen Geralt, if you don’t know the difference between glasses and an instrument I don’t know what to-”

“The song, Jaskier. It says the lute will let me see the prince, so maybe I have to hold the lute.”

The bard looked at him doubtfully.

“I won’t let any harm befall it. I know how important it is for you, Jaskier. I promise I won’t damage it. I will protect it like- Like I protect Roach.”

“Fine. But if you-”

“If something happens to it, I will do everything in my power to repair or replace it. I swear.”

“Good.” Jaskier bit his lip. “And make sure you return it before dinner. This is a well-paying crowd.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Geralt felt like a fool, wandering through the village holding Jaskier’s lute. It didn’t help that the lute wasn’t helping. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, nobody knew of anyone disappearing during winters, and, as far as he could track, there were no secret lovers either. So he did the only thing he could think of, and, lute in hand, walked back into the forest.

This time it took even less to find the fairy Queen. She seemed to be waiting for him, unsurprised that he came alone.

“You brought the lute.”

Geralt nodded. “I am sorry, your highness, but I have been unable to find your son. If you could but tell me how he looks li-”

“Give it to me.”

“What?”

“The lute. Give it to me.”

“It is not mine to give.”

The Queen smiled and waved her hand. “Don’t worry, Witcher, I know how much it means to the one it belongs to. He will get it back.” Geralt just looked at her. “He will get it back, whole, undamaged, in the exact state as it is now, before sunset.” the Queen specified. “I mean no harm to your bard.”

“He’s not my-”

“The lute, Witcher.”

Geralt sighed and, carefully not to enter the circle, handed the lute to the brown-haired lady.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

She did not break it. She did not enchant it, or cut its strings, or anything else. Instead, she played. One of Jaskier’s songs, Geralt recognised it. Not that he listened to the bard when he played, he tried to tune it out most of the time, but it wasn’t like he was completely able to avoid hearing the endless stream of music that joined him every place he went. After that song was done she played another, and another, and another. All of them written by Jaskier. She did not sing, though some of her servants would hum the occasional line or dance along.

It was getting late when Geralt spoke again. “You are a talented player, Lady, but I promised I would return this instrument to its owner before dinnertime. I could fetch you another lute from the village, if you want?” He knew from experience that even slightly antagonising a Fae court would make his task of getting them to leave exponentially more difficult.

“Ah, no, I think I like this lute better. It carries memories, you know,” she replied, continuing to play. Geralt was surprised at how suspiciously amiable this entire contract had gone. Any other Fae would have deviously tried to trick him by now, or forcibly dragged him into the circle. “Besides, the lute is not yours. I will return it to him who owns it.”

Fuck.

“You want me to fetch Jaskier.”

“Oh, there is no need for that. He is already on his way. He is pretty pissed, Witcher.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

The moment the words left the Queen’s mouth, Geralt heard the distant footsteps of the bard. He indeed sounded angry, but, as Jaskier came closer, Geralt noticed he smelled more of fear than of fury. Geralt frowned. Jaskier was never afraid. Sure, he would be scared of husbands he cuckolded, or the monsters Geralt fought, but never scared like this.

“What the fuck, Geralt. I lend you my lute, you promised you would keep it safe, and you hand it over to someone else? A Fae Queen? Are you mad? Are you short of a few marbles? A few thousand marbles, perhaps?”

“Hello, Julian.” The Queen said, before Geralt could say anything in defence of his actions. “You know I won’t ever let any harm come to your instrument.”

“I know m- I know. But he didn’t!”

“I promised him I would not harm the instrument, and I promised that you would have it back by sunset. He had no reason not to give the lute to me.”

“He still should not have. Give it back.”

“Come and get it.”

“Why now? Why like this?”

“It’s been twenty years, Julian. It’s time. And since you refuse to do it, I am forcing your hand. He has to know. You’re being unfair to him by keeping silent. He will discover someday, anyway. You have to make a choice, either reveal it now, voluntarily, or I will force you.”

“Fine.” And before Geralt could say anything, before he could step forward, grab Jaskier and drag him away, Jaskier stepped headfirst into the fairy circle and grabbed his lute from the Queen's outstretched hand.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

He didn’t die. Or faint. Or grow old rapidly. Jaskier just stood there, next to the Fae Queen, cradling his lute, and nothing changed. Geralt blinked. That was not true. Something did change. He became a little taller. His ears were a little bit more pointy. His smile a little wider, and everything about him became more regal than any king Geralt had ever seen.

“What. The. Fuck, Jaskier.”

“Geralt,” the bard said, with a mocking bow, “meet my mum. Mum, Geralt. Though you already knew that.” He stepped out of the circle, still firmly clutching his lute, and Jaskier became, well, Jaskier again. Not that he had ever not been Jaskier, but still.

Geralt just stared.

“I am sorry Geralt, I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I didn’t know you, and then Filavandrel gave me this lute, and- and I just sort of started following you, and- You never even admitted I was your friend! The only time we ever talked about Fae you just told me you thought all of them were cheating bastards!” Geralt winced. “Yennefer never told you? I am sure she knew. And- I mean, I never aged! We have been travelling for two decades and I still look as young as when we first met! Do you mean to tell me you never noticed?”

“I thought- Your salves and-”

“Those can’t completely stop someone from ageing! I-” Jaskier’s voice suddenly went from exasperated to really quiet. “I’m sorry. I’ll go grab my stuff from the inn. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no Fae will ever harm you. I- I’ll see you in a bit, mum.” And with those words, Jaskier turned away and left.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

“He did want to tell you, you know.” The Queen’s voice sounded from behind him. “He was just afraid of losing you. I hoped this would give you two a push in the right direction, but it seemed like I was wrong.”

“Jaskier’s a faery?”

“Jaskier is my son. He is High Prince of the Summer Court, and will inherit my throne in a couple of centuries.”

“Centuries? He is immortal?”

“As long as he doesn’t get himself into too much trouble, yes, he is.”

“Jaskier’s immortal. He won’t die.” Geralt stared in the direction the bard had disappeared in as his brain and heart rapidly embraced feelings had refused to acknowledge for the past twenty years.

“He has lived for over six hundred years, and he will live at least another ten times that.”

Geralt ran.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

By the time he arrived at the inn, Jaskier had already packed his belongings and was saying goodbye to Roach. “Jaskier!”

“I’m sorry Geralt.”

“I love you.”

There was a loud twang as Jaskier’s prized lute hit the ground.

“I love you. And I didn’t tell you, and I didn’t tell myself, and- I thought you would die, Jaskier! I thought you would die, and leave me here, and it was easier just to pretend I didn’t like you than to admit it and see you grow old and leave-” Geralt’s words were cut off as the bard’s, his bard’s, lips hit his. The smell of flowers, the taste of honey, the soft touch of Jaskier’s hand on his cheek- It was beautiful and gorgeous and real.

“You don’t hate me? For keeping this secret so long?”

Geralt just shook his head and kissed.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

The village’s cattle were safe, in the end. So was the harvest, and the mayor’s child, or any other baby born, for that matter. The Witcher had fulfilled his contract and received his coin, and by the time a young Oxenfurt graduate passed through the village singing a song of a white-haired Witcher and his Faery love, the people had long forgotten about their own encounter with the White Wolf of Rivia. It was not like they could know that every winter, Kaer Morhen bloomed wild with tiny, yellow flowers. Or that, every summer solstice, the Fae Queen’s celebrations were attended by a witcher. Or that, for many, many, many years to come, a humble bard and a friend to humanity, with rings on their fingers, would travel the Continent, never leaving the other’s side.

#jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geraskier ff #the witcher ff #q #onceuponadisneyqueue #onceuponadisneypotter

[smylealong]

Opening Lines

Thanks for the tag, @avauntus. This looks very interesting. OPENING LINES: List the first lines of your last 8 stories (if you have less than 8, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

1. Birth of the Yiling Patriarch:

Falling.

I'm falling.

Help me!

Someone.

Anyone.

HELP.

What? What? What are these? Black hands? Cold. So cold.

No, no, don't touch me.

NO!

2. Bells of Andal:

Nam Seon-ho was having a perfectly boring day poring over the details of rice production for the month when his surly retainer burst into the office looking surlier than ever. He cut through the rows of desks, unbothered by the dirty looks thrown his way. Reaching Seon-ho, the man threw an envelope on his desk – an official order from King Gongyang.

"Sometimes I wish I could go back in time," Sung rok said, flopping down in front of him. “Just to tell my past self to fuck right off that burning hut."

"What crawled up your behind today?” Seon Ho said, breaking the wax seal.

"Ghosts." Came the short reply.

Seon-ho stilled, nonplussed. "Eh?"

"You heard me."

From anyone else, Seon-ho would have assumed they were joking, but the only jokes Sung-rok seemed to recognize were related to bowel movements. This was way out of his brand of humor. He raised a skeptical brow, "Ghosts?"

"Ghosts."

3. You Saved Me:

Anger, fear, and worry gnawed at Dong-chul’s chest, making him cast one final glance at the near-catatonic figure of his father sitting in the tiny, filthy, stinky, and overcrowded room.

Man-hee patted his back, nodded, and said, “We got this. You go.”

“Yeah, you guys go save Sang-mi,” Jung-hoon added.

Sang-mi. The name twisted inside him like a serrated knife. The guilt of not stopping her from taking on a self-destructive step, her faith in him that he would come to save her, coupled with rage, the terror, and the anxiety of what would happen if he did not make it there in time, churned inside him, making him almost nauseated. Another emotion, one that he could not, would not, name wrenched his heart – the pain from it almost physical in its manifestation. He closed his eyes and took a moment to push down everything that threatened to burst through him. No. This was the most important fight of his life and his father’s presence had only raised the stakes higher. He could not afford to get cold feet. Not here. Not now. Sang-mi and his dad needed him, and he would not fail them just because he was getting anxious. He swallowed the bile in his mouth, bitter and burning. Just a glance at Sang-hwan and Dong-chul knew that his best friend too was battling the same nerves. Without a word exchanged, the two took off running.

4. Puppets of Fate:

Wen Ning looked at the drop that fell on his hand and suppressed a click of irritation. Rain. Why did it have to rain? He bundled his cloak more tightly and lowered his head against the howling wind. His boots squelched in the mud and he tried to ignore how, with each step, the rain poured harder and his mood grew darker, mirroring the sky.

5. An essay on Pterosaurs:

The Earth during the Mesozoic Era (250 to 65 million years ago) was quite different than what we know. Dinosaurs roamed every continent, marine reptiles terrorized the waters and tiny mammals skulked in the shadows. In the early days, birds had not yet evolved, neither had bats. The skies, however, were not a vacant scape. Bizarre winged creatures ruled the air, taking life to new heights, both literally and metaphorically. These were the Pterosaurs.

6. Monster?:

Brahman is the power that flows in the Universe.

Brahman is what makes the sun rise.

Brahman makes the world go round.

Brahman lives in our blood.

We are the Rakshasas.

- Rakta, Commander-in-Chief, R.A.F.F

7. Blackened Mirrors:

Slowly, as though caressing the skin of his lover, Zachary ran a finger along the iron railing.

Just a little more, he told himself. The idea was tantalizing in its simplicity. Climb up the mesh-like railing and topple over. That was all that was needed. The two-story drop would be enough to kill him. End his misery once and for all.

The sun had long since dipped out of sight, leaving behind faint trails of orange that were fast diminishing. Far beyond the wall, a whole different world was waking up. But hidden in the sanctuary of Castle Obrechen, Zachary Bertholdt’s day was coming to a close. He stood in the balcony, looking at the rise of the lesser moon, Cavli. Somewhere to his left he could hear the snatches of a folk song, probably sung by a boatman ferrying his ride across the lake Voan.

Despite himself, Zachary laughed. “Can’t do it, can you, coward?”

What was he holding on to, he wondered? At twenty-nine years of age, he was certain that he wanted to die. But, apparently, wanting to die and actively killing oneself were two completely different things. Why wasn’t he climbing the railing? What was stopping him? He had to wonder.

8. The Order:

The order came in on the seventh day of who-gives-a-fuck-anymore. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have surprised us, but it did. I do wonder why though? It wasn’t like this was the first time it had happened. But like the celebrated author whose name I can’t remember once said, “the ability of self-deception is humanity’s biggest fortitude, while being their greatest foible at the same time.”

We had, or at least I had and maybe I am projecting, but I don’t particularly care anymore if I am… so what was I saying again? Ah yes, we had, and yes, I am speaking collectively, convinced ourselves that it won’t happen to us. That we were somehow safe from it. The joke is on us. Haha. I’m laughing, don’t you see? That manic, hysterical laugh that I can’t seem to stop. My sides hurt, tears are streaming from my eyes, my cheeks hurt, and I’m struggling to catch my breath, but the laugh that is bubbling from within me just doesn’t seem to fucking stop! Someone help me! I should be crying, shouldn’t I? Why am I laughing? What the fuck is happening? I don’t know anymore. It’s all a mess.

________

There. I gave the opening lines of four fanfics, three original works and one non-fiction essay. Pattern? Do I see a pattern? I don't know. Not self-aware enough to see it. If anyone does, I'd LOVE to hear their thoughts. Tag 10 writers? I don't know 10 writers. I am tagging. @sadviper, @convenientalias, @rain-hat, @arlothia @terribleteej

#fun tag #Opening lines #wip stuff

[fanfictionera]

Veterans Home (SteveRogersxReader)

A/N: For whatever reason, this one shot would not stop floating around my head. Just a cute little fluff piece. Enjoy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Synopsis: Living with eleven other people, who you spend the majority of your time with, can get a little overwhelming. So everyone gets personal time within the compound. Whether people use it to workout, site see or just take a nap, it's time that is uninterrupted. Steve has been leaving the compound lately and you become curious as to where he is going. You finally find out.

Word Count: 4180

Warnings: So much fluff and cute Cap. Y/G/P/M- Your Guilty Pleasure Movie

Tag List

Veterans Home

You sat on the couch with Natasha, a bowl of popcorn between the two of you and random stacks of movies scattered around the coffee table in front of you. You had decided to use your free afternoon to watch some favorites. 

Currently you were watching (Y/G/P/M). You let out a small laugh in response to a joke when you heard footsteps enter into the living area.

“Hey, Steve.” You said as you peered around to see him grabbing a gatorade from the fridge.

He turned back around with a smile, “Hey, enjoying your afternoon?”

“Immensely.” You responded as Natasha turned up the volume. “Headed out?”

“I won't be out long,” He came around and stood behind the couch. “I’ll have my phone if you need me but,”

Nat sighed as she cut him off, “Only call if it's an emergency, like someone is dying, aliens are attacking and the fate of the world rests on our shoulders, emergency. Got it.” She didn't look away from the screen. “Now shush it's getting to the good part.”

“I’ll see ya later.” He said a little louder, just to annoy Nat. 

You had to hold back your smile as you saw Nat’s eyes squint slightly and you could tell she was contemplating murder. “See ya.” You waved as he walked out of the room. “Where do you think he goes?”

Nat was silent.

“Oh come on, you’ve seen this a million times.” You laugh as you throw a pillow at her head. 

She caught it. “He used to go see Peggy and after her passing he stayed in for a while, but now I don't know. Guess that's why it's HIS personal time.”

“Stop. Where can he even go where he’s not bombarded by the press or fans?” You question. “Do you think it's a girl?”

Nat instantly paused the movie. “It would be a very Steve thing to do.”

“Not bring her back here, as to not overwhelm her.” You continued. “Could it be a newer thing?”

“Or a not even a thing but he wants it to be a thing, thing.” Nat’s eyebrows slowly scrunched as she spoke.

You took a moment to go back over her sentence. “A crush?” 

“Oh no,” Nat picked back up the remote. “Is that jealousy I hear.”

You took the remote from her hands. "Nope." 

"Uh-uh." Nat said with a grin as you pushed play. 

You could see Nat looking at you in your peripherals. "You can side eye me all you want Romanoff. Steve's a big boy and if he wants something to do with me he can decide that."

"You're a big girl too ya know." Nat responded.  "I'll put twenty bucks on you.""I'm not, fine I'll take that bet." You brought your hands up to a lazy high five before the two of you settled back into your day off without another word spoken about the situation. 

…............................................................................................................................

You sat at the breakfast bar eating some leftover spaghetti. It was just past noon and everyone seemed to be doing their own thing, so you decided to grab some food and catch up on life. You sat with your bowl in front of you, an elbow on the table with your phone propped up in front of your face, your other hand shoveling forkfuls of pasta in your mouth every few minutes.

Steve walked into the kitchen, drawing your attention. You slowly lowered your phone to the counter as he walked to the other side across from you.

“How was your afternoon yesterday?” You asked as he rummaged through the cabinet. 

He turned with a bag of chips in his hand. “It was great.”

“You won't give me anything?” You pushed with a smile. “Just something little, come on.”

He took the chip clip off and tossed it on the counter. “It's called personal time for a reason.”

He leaned back against the counter as he reached into the bag, a defiant smirk plastered on his face.

“Lets see,” You continued after taking another bite. “Are you learning something new and are too embarrassed to share?”

“No.” Steve reached back into the bag, “I'm amazing at everything I do, no need for embarrassment.”

You shook your head, “Oh! Fight Club?” You pretended to get extremely excited.

“Rule number one.” Steve instantly shot back, “Good movie.”

“Trying to change the subject?” He smiled back at you as you sat for a moment silently before an even bigger grin spread across your face. “Does Steve have a girlfriend?”

He laughed, “No, I mean not exactly.”

“Oh!” Your interest peaked instantly. “So there is a girl!” He quickly turned to leave the room. “This isn't over Rogers.” You sing songed after him.

Just before he left the room he turned and shrugged as he popped another chip in his mouth. 

You shook your head with a smirk, “Oh Steve, I’ll get it out of you one of these days.” You finished off your food before heading back to your room.

…............................................................................................................................

Your alarm goes off, pulling you out of the depths of slumber. You roll over onto your back, letting yourself sink back into the mattress. It felt so good to be in your own bed after a long mission. Four days was hardly the longest mission you had gone on but it was long enough. Everybody was ready to fall back into a normal schedule.Which is why you pulled yourself out of bed at some ungodly hour before the sun was even up, to go workout.

You waltzed into the gym as everyone else was trickling in, joking around and stretching as they got ready for the next few hours of torture. 

“Where's Steve?” You asked as you came up to Sam and Bucky. Sam was tying up his shoes next to Bucky who shrugged as he stretched his flesh arm across his chest.

Your jaw practically dropped. “Thee Mr. Steve Rogers is late!?”

“Only by a few minutes, calm down.” You spun around as you heard Steve, he walked up letting his bag drop beside Sam.

“Isn't that like a decade for you?” You couldn't help but poke. “I mean you're getting up their Cap, every minute counts.”

“Go stretch. Now.” Steve pointed towards the sparring mat unamused.

Sam chuckled. “Sounds like someone's in trouble.”

“It's my middle name.” You said over your shoulder as you made your way to the mat. 

Bucky gave Steve a look, “You good?”

“Yeah, just in need of a good workout.” Steve began to stretch, “Too much going on up here.” He tapped his head.

Bucky gave his friend a reassuring smile before joining Sam for their workout. Steve took a swig of water before approaching you on the mats. 

“Okay, stances, let's go.” He nudged your foot.

Standing up you settled into your first defensive stance. “Someone's cranky.”

Steve lunges at you, testing you. With a quick step and jump you dodged out of his way. Swinging your leg back towards Steve, he brought his forearms up to block, you adjusted instantly and pulled your ankle back and dropped your angle connecting your knee with his ribs. 

“I'm not cranky.” He grunted out as you fell back into your second stance. 

You had to keep from smirking. “Could have fooled me.” Steve came low this time. You attempted to dodge out of the way but he clipped your foot, halting your momentum. Quickly you corrected yourself, landing on your hands you pulled your feet over and back down to the floor in a half somersault. “What did you do?”

Your question threw Steve off. 

Taking advantage of the distraction you let out several punches that Steve blocked, “What do you mean what did I do?” He grabbed hold of your arm and spun you around holding you in a choke hold of sorts.

“This girl of yours, you had to have done something.” Your voice was strained as you spoke. You kicked your feet up to get leverage to free your hand. Stepping back you fell into your third stance. “You're out of it Steve. Or lost in it.” You smiled. He let out a defeated sigh, “Seriously, you look like someone died or something. What's up?” 

“What if someone did, Y/N, huh?” Steve's voice almost echoed. “Why do you have to always push? Why can't we just workout.” 

You stood in shock for a moment before realizing Steve was already on the offense. He swung with aggression, his movements out of his usual pattern. You just barely managed to block each one. With each swing he pushed you further back. Just as you reached the edge of the mat you snapped out of it.

You stepped to the inside of his foot, sweeping out making him lose his balance for a moment. In those seconds you went low keeping your head tucked, hoisting him up and over yourself, you made him flip over. Steve let out a slight groan as he landed face down on the hard gym floor.

“Lets fucking go.” You said sternly.

Activities in the gym came to a screeching halt as everyone cautiously watched on, eyeing each other, silently deciding who was going to step in.

You stepped back towards the center, pacing back and forth, “You got something to get out of your system? Then by all means let's get it out of your system.” You pushed again. Knowing deep down Steve was instantly regretting his actions. He didn't break eye contact “No? Then I suggest you check yourself.”

Steve clenched his jaw as he started walking to the door, leaving his bag still on the bench and the workout unfinished. You watched, keeping a stern look but feeling confused inside. Never has Steve talked to you like that, your anxiety instantly pushed its way up through your stomach, did you push him too far? Everyone's eyes were on you before they quietly went back to their workouts. 

You pushed those thoughts to the back of your brain as you walked over to grab your towel, “Hey doll, don't take it too hard.” Bucky said as he held the punching bag for Sam. 

You looked over, “Do you know what's going on with him?”

Bucky shrugged, “Not sure, but do me a favor?” Sam stood up breathing hard, “Let him cool down before you go talk to him.”

“Your middle name is trouble, with a capital T.” Sam shook his head laughing as he switched spots with Bucky. 

“Also.” Bucky punched the the bag twice, “Whatever that was, was impressive, don't let Steve ever forget he was brought down by such a pretty dame.”

Your lips pulled into a smile as a laugh escaped. “Oh, that won't be a problem.” You say as he continues with a satisfied grin. You grabbed your things off the bench and made your way back to your room. 

You walked straight into your bathroom and turned on the water to take a shower. As you stripped off your clothes you threw them onto the trunk at the end of your bed. Being barely worn you decided to wear them tomorrow to workout. Stepping into the shower you felt the hot water begin to cascade down your skin. 

As you continued to wash your hair a knot of guilt began to form in the pit of your stomach. Your brain began to cycle through your fight with Steve, picking apart each second and replaying it over and over in your head. Why didn't you notice his mood change? Or that something was off? Why didn't you just stop and be there for him? Why were you such an idiot?

The thoughts cycled as you rinsed out the last bit of conditioner and all of a sudden you didn't want to be taking a shower anymore. The time it took to turn off the water and pull back the curtain and grab your towel was taking too long. 

Once you had a towel in hand, you quickly began to dry off as you walked out to grab some clothes. You didn't make it to your closet, instead you sat down on your bed and held your head in your hands. You dragged your hands down your face, pulling your skin down. The wave of guilt washed over and drowned you. After several deep breaths you pulled on some clothes and made your way down the hall to Steve's room.

You softly knocked on his door and waited. “Come in!” You heard him say.

You opened the door to find him sitting on his bed with several piles of papers and folders scattered around him.

“Hey,” you say as you walk up to the bed, “Do you ever stop working?”

He picked up a new pile of papers and began to sort, “This is something that needs done, so i'm doing it.”

The tone of his voice made you feel like running, but you were already standing there in the middle of his room so the next best thing you could think of was to just get it over with. “Look, I wanted to apologize.” Steve looked up at you as he slowly sat the pile down. “I realize I took it too far, I didn't mean too.”

“Don't apologize.” Steve said after he took a deep breath, you noticed his shoulders relaxing a bit. “It's okay.”

“Sometimes I don't know how far to push it with you,” You sat down on the edge of his bed, carefully not to disturb his piles. “You keep me on my toes, always ready with a comeback or burn. Just let me know, in the future, because I really don't like grumpy Steve.”

“This week didn't quite go the way I had planned.” Steve shrugged. “You didn't take it too far, I just wasn't in the right headspace and took it out on you.”

You smiled slightly, “Anything I can do to help?”

“No, no.” He ran his hand through his hair as he let out a breathy laugh, “Thank you though.”

You stood up, “If you think of something just let me know.”

“I know where to find you.” You could see the twinkle of your favorite Steve shining through.

You started walking backwards towards the door, “Creep.” You shot back with a smile and just as you turned to leave, a basket caught your eyes.“What are these?”

“They are a present from a fan, it was delivered while we were out on the mission.” He got up off his bed and came to stand beside you. 

He watched as your fingers delicately flipped through the contents. “Are these first editions?”

“Some yeah, there's a hand full in here from the forties.” He pulled one out, “But, this one is one of my favorites. Captain America: A Man Out of Time.”

The selection seemed bittersweet, 

“Why?” You asked.

“It's the closest version of me I've read.” He let the comic slide back down into place, “And it's wrong.” He looked over to see your confused face. “Have you read it?”

You shake your head, “No.”

“Here.” He fished it back out. “Read it and tell me what you think.”

Before you took the material you brought your hands up around his waist, pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry your week didn't go as planned.” 

He let his arms come to rest around your shoulders. “Me too,” You pulled back. “But guess it comes with the job.”

You took the comic from him and flipped through it quickly, “That it does. See ya tomorrow and for God’s sake would you stop working for two seconds.” Steve walked towards you with a smile forcing you to walk backwards as you continued to talk, “I mean lets be real, these are your golden years, and you're going to waste it on paperwork? I would be more than happy to turn it all into confetti for ya and then the real party can start!”

He pushed you back until you were outside his door. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Steve.” You smiled as you made your way back to your room.

As you entered your room the ball of anxiety had disappeared and a small smile pulled at your lips. 

You guys were good.

…............................................................................................................................

It was another week, another quiet day. Mainly due to the fact half of your friends were out on a mission. You were kinda bummed you didn't get to go and even more bummed Nat and Wanda had to go and you now had to find a way to entertain yourself. Everyone was out except for you and Sam, but you opted to grab a snack and chill rather than join him in the gym. 

With a bowl of ice cream in hand you made your way back to your room. As you exited the elevator you noticed a small white object in the middle of the floor. As you reached down to grab it you realized it was an envelope.

You turned it over to find a blank face and you could feel something inside. When you got back to your room you sat your ice cream down and began to investigate. It was a small envelope and it wasn't sealed, the top flap was just tucked under. You carefully untucked the flap and pulled out the contents. 

A thank you card was revealed and it felt thick, like there was something else inside, you thumbed the card open to reveal an invitation to a celebration of life. The name Milton John Robert was printed across the top of the paper with two pictures below it. One of a very nice looking old man and another younger version of him in his military uniform. The funeral had already passed, it took place a few weeks back during the four day mission.

After the invitation was a folded up piece of newspaper, Milton's obituary was cut out and folded up, you set it to the side. Inside the card was beautiful handwritten note:

Steve,

I know you wanted to be here and Dad would have been overjoyed but we also understand. The world never stops turning does it?

Dad looked up to you so much and we as a family can't thank you enough for filling the last of his time with such wonderful happiness. 

We can never repay you for what you brought him but please take his comics. He wanted you to have them. Some of them he has had since the 40's. Enjoy them and please don't stop bringing the joy and happiness to all of the veterans at the home. 

Thank you,

Jessica and Family 

You felt the warmth of tears begin to well in your eyes. "Oh Steve," is all you could say as it clicked with you. The outburst, your choice of words, it was enough for anyone to push back. You knew it wasn't all you, but it saddened you they Steve didn't just tell you. That you made it worse without knowing. 

You unfolded the obituary to find that Milton had stayed at the Veterans Home not too far from the compound. Without another thought you placed the contents back in the envelope, grabbed your leather jacket and rushed out the door. Ice cream forgotten and left to melt.

A nice perk of being an Avenger was the fact you never had to drive anywhere if you didn't want to. In a matter of minutes you had asked Friday to call up a driver and by the time you made it to the garage he was waiting for you with the door open ready for you. After giving him the address the driver nodded and took you to the veterans home. 

As you pulled up to the home you saw Steve's bike. "Yup this is it, thanks."

"Would you like me to wait?" The driver asks you.

You opened the door and hopped out, "Nope, it's alright. Thank you."

He nods as you close the door and he drives away. You walk in through the double door entry to be met by a receptionist. 

"Hi, I'm looking for Captain Rogers?" You asked the lady sitting behind the desk.

"Oh he's down with the residents now, would you like a visitor's pass?" She asked with a smile.

You smiled in return, "If I could, thank you."

After filling out a paper you took your visitors pass and followed the directions to the residents hall where you were told Steve was. 

As you turned down the hallway you reached a doorway that opened up into a larger room. You leaned against the doorway watching as Steve enthusiastically reenacted a Captain America tale about the Howling Commandos. You stood for a moment just taking it in.   

“Sometimes he plays the piano, or we listen to old records and have ourselves a dance party. Today he is telling the tales of Captain America.” A nurse came up to stand beside you before gesturing to the crowd of residents. “I don't think they have any idea what's going on but wherever they are, they’re happy, and that's really all that matters.” She placed an open palmed hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before going to help one of the residents adjust their back pillow.

You decided to wait outside, before he could notice you were there. You made your way back up to the front desk. “Hey, if you could keep the fact I was here on the downlow I would appreciate it.” You say to the receptionist. “It's not a crazy big deal but for now it needs to be.” 

“Of course!” She replied back. “I hope you’re not in too much trouble.”

“I’ve been told it's my middle name.” You joke back with a laugh, making her laugh. “Have a good rest of your day.” You say as you walk out. You hear a faint you too before the door closes. 

You notice a bench sitting off to your left, out of view, and decided to take a seat.

…............................................................................................................................

“Okay Norm, where are we off to today?” Steve asked as he pushed a man in a wheelchair, his oxygen tubes clinging to his sunken face and a thick blanket covering his legs. 

The man sat up slightly, “Home. They’re sending me my rifle.”

“Is that so.” Steve continued to push Norm down the hall to his room.

Norm shook his head, “They are sending a guy right now. He’s going to bring me my uniform and everything!” His voice grew.

A nurse stepped out of Norm’s room as she went to take over for Steve. “Okay Norm, get a good night's sleep. Report for duty at oh eight hundred you got it?”

“Yes Captain.” He saluted before being brought into his room.

Steve smiled slightly as he made his way up to the front desk. “Have a good night, see ya next week.”

“Finally got Norm into his room?” The receptionist asked. 

Steve shook his head slightly, “It's getting a little more difficult each and every time.”

“Always is.” The receptionist smiled. “See you next week.”

Steve nodded before making his way out the doors. 

You watched as he placed his hands in his pockets as he walked. “So this girl, is she a resident or an employee?” Steve whipped around quickly before letting his head fall back as he let out a sigh. “If I have to fight an old lady, I will, I won’t be happy about it but I’ll do it.” You got up and walked up to him just as he pulled his head back, looking down at you.

“And why would you be fighting old ladies?” He questioned back with a raised eyebrow.

You cross your arms in front of you, “Look competition is competition. I’m working with quite a large age range here and if I have to fight an old lady to establish what's mine then so be it.”

He looked at you, adoration beaming from his face, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Oh I think Ruth could give you a run for your money.”

“Ruth!?” You cracked your knuckles as you began to walk back towards the front doors. 

Steve caught your arm and spun you back facing him, “How about you spare Ruth and in return I take you out for some food.”

You acted like you were taking a moment to think it over before making your way over to his bike. “Steve Rogers are you asking me out on a date?” You picked up the helmet he had sat on the seat. 

“I believe I am. Now where would the pretty lady like to eat?” He replied as he plucked the helmet out of your hands and slid it on your head, clipping the strap under your chin.

You tilted your head slightly, “Surprise me.”

“Hold on.” Steve swung his leg over the bike before turning back towards you. You hopped on wrapping your arms around his waist as his bike roared to life. Steve weaved throughout the backstreets until the Brooklyn Bridge was in sight. 

End.

Part 2 Coming Soon

#stevexreader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson #Natasha Romanoff #Fluff #Steve Rogers x Reader #steverogersxreader #Marvel #MarvelStudios

[imaginationxlost]

Incorrect Quotes: Tag Game

Rules: use this quote generator & list as many quotes as you like using characters from your WIPs, then tag as many people as quotes you listed.

Tagged by: @artbyeloquent​

I had WAY too much fun with this.

Storms:

Anna Kahale: Okay, truth or dare? Issac Riley: Truth Anna Kahale: How many hours have you slept this week? Issac Riley: Issac Riley: ...Dare Anna Kahale: Go to bed. Issac Riley: I don’t like this game.

----

Issac Riley: How do I deal with my enemies? Leilani: Kill them Issac Riley: That's a bit extreme, I was hoping for a more passive solution Leilani: Kill them only a little?

----

Leila Travers, tending to Issac's wounds: How would you rate your pain? Issac Riley: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.

----

Issac Riley: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you. Anna Kahale: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Issac Riley: Absolutely not.

----

Ethan Riley, setting down a card: Ace of spades Lexi Riley, pulling out an Uno card: +4 Anna Kahale, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you Vincent Riley, trembling: What are we playing

----

Issac Riley: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though. Leilani: You need to stop.

----

Anna Kahale: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives Issac Riley: I wake up at 5:30 AM Anna Kahale: Anna Kahale: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives

----

Ethan Riley: Issac isn’t answering his phone Anna Kahale: I’ll call Ethan Riley: Lexi and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi- Issac Riley: Hello?

----

Issac Riley: How did none of you hear what I just said? Lexi Riley: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours. Anna Kahale: I got distracted about halfway through. Leilani: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

-

Eyes Wide Open:

Lucille Darnell: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth? Lucian Darnell: You’re a hazard to society Mia Jordan: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

----

Lucian Darnell: Stop buying plastic skeletons for Halloween! It's terrible for the environment! Lucille Darnell: Yeah! Locally sourced, all natural skeletons are much more environmentally friendly!

----

Lucian Darnell, trying to ask Noah Mason out: Would you like to stay for dinner? Lucille: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

----

Lucian Darnell: How petty can you get? Lucille Darnell: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

----

Lucian Darnell: There is no future. there is no past. do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet. Lucille Darnell: Emma Jordan: Ryan Jordan: Everyone Else At Lucian (And Lucille’s) Surprise Birthday Party: Lucille Darnell: All I asked was if you wanted to cut our birthday cake first.

----

Lucian Darnell: WHY. why did you give Lucille a KNIFE?! Jenna Smalls: I’m sorry. They said they felt unsafe. Lucian Darnell: Now I feel unsafe! Jenna Smalls: I’m sorry. Jenna Smalls: ... would you like a knife?

----

Ryan Jordan, driving Lucian and Lucille: So how was your day? Lucille Darnell: We almost got surprise adopted! Ryan Jordan: What? Lucian Darnell: We almost got kidnapped. Ryan Jordan: Oh, okay. Ryan Jordan: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

-

Sleepless:

Ilario Heart: Lia... Iecilia Heart: Oh no, 'Lia' in b-flat. Iecilia Heart: You're disappointed.

----

Michael James, standing with his back turned: I’ve been expecting you, Jack. Ilario Heart: How did you do that without turning around? Michael James: ... To be perfectly honest, the first couple of people I did that to were not you.

----

Iecilia Heart: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'? Ilario Heart: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated- Michael James: Smad.

----

Michael James: What time is it? Iecilia Heart: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out Iecilia Heart: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune* Ilario Heart: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING Iecilia Heart: It’s 2 am

----

Ilario Heart: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait. Iecilia Heart: You and me!!! Ilario Heart, tearing up: Okay.

----

Ilario Heart: This is a mistake Iecilia Heart, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh about one day! Ilario Heart: But not today Iecilia Heart, still enthusiastic: Oh, no. Today's going to be a mess

-

Tagging: Uhm, no. Just do it if you want to.

#character: Iecilia Heart #character: Ilario Heart #Character: Issac Riley #Character: Anna Kahale #character: Leila Travers #character: Leilani #character: Vincent Riley #character: Ethan Riley #Character: Alexis 'Lexi' Riley #character: Michael Riley #character: Ryan Jordan #character: Emma Jordan #character: Jenna Smalls #character: Mia Jordan #story: Sleepless #story: Eyes Wide Open #story: sparks #sequel: Storms

[debbiechanclub]

Adam Page Narrative Headcanon (2)

Here’s another Hangman Adam Page headcanon for your reading pleasure, requested by the one and only @unabashedwrestlefics​. This is the first time I’ve ever written a fic where the reader/OC wasn’t a wrestler or in the business, so there’s that.

Anyway, I really hope you like it. I’m honestly kind of nervous.

Also tagging @what-does-mine-say​ because I have to if it’s Adam.

More headcanons here.

> When it came to your love life, you had one hard and fast rule: don’t date younger guys. Don’t even get involved with them. It just wasn’t a good idea. You were at a stage in life where you knew exactly what you wanted, needed, and deserved and weren’t willing to accept anything less—and a younger man would undoubtedly be less. They wouldn’t be able to handle your baggage. They couldn’t commit; most of them didn’t even know the meaning of the word, as you’d experienced firsthand in your twenties and even into your thirties. And now that forty was closer than it wasn’t, you didn’t even entertain guys under a certain age. There was no point. You’d only get hurt.

> But then you met Adam, and he shot your rule to hell.

> You’d been visiting a friend for the weekend. Your kids were with your ex and you felt like getting out of town. She lived a couple hours from you in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, which was exactly what you needed. To get away. Clear your head and reset your soul. The country air was good for that.

> But your friend had other ideas. You hadn’t wanted to go to the bar, but she insisted. It’d been so long since either of you had gone out and done anything—life always seemed to get in the way. So, you let her drag you out. Maybe it would be good for you; admittedly, you’d been turning into a bit of a hermit as of late.

> You saw him as soon as you walked in. The bar was busy on account of the fact that it was the only one around for miles, but he stuck out like a sore thumb among the bikers and small-town locals. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Curly golden hair. You could tell from just his profile that he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. And then he looked over. Those blue eyes nearly stopped your heart when they met yours.

> You ordered a Jack and Coke at the bar and then snagged a nearby booth with your friend. He was still in sight, so you decided to sit with your back to him. It was better that way. He was definitely younger than you—close to a decade younger, by your guess. Good looks wouldn’t make up for that.

> But, unbeknownst to you, you’d caught his eye, too. You were nearly done with your first round when your friend smirked and said, “That hottie with the belt buckle has been watching you this whole time.” You flushed and glanced slyly over your shoulder. But, as discreet as you were, he still caught you. You turned back around. “He can’t be more than twenty-seven,” you dismissed as you downed the rest of your drink, trying to drown the butterflies in your stomach.

> You’d set the empty glass on the table and stood to get another drink, all-too-aware of his gaze on you as you crossed the room the bar. You tried to ignore it as you ordered another Jack and Coke. But it became impossible to ignore when, suddenly, he was right next to you. “Put it on my tab,” he told the bartender.

> You looked up at him, your heart thrumming in your chest. If he was handsome from afar, he was downright delicious up close. “You don’t have to do that,” you said to him. He nodded. “I know. But I want to.” He reached out a hand. “Adam,” he introduced himself. His palm felt rough as you slipped your hand into his. “[Y/N],” you reciprocated. And as soon as he smiled, your rule went out the window.

> You didn’t go home with your friend that night. It wasn’t like you at all to have a one-night stand, especially with such a younger man—but he was a man. You hadn’t felt pleasure like that in years. He’d filled you completely, gripping your hips to the point of bruising, your back arching and your voice growing hoarse from your cries.

> But then the morning came and cast everything in a new light. You were almost 38; he’d just turned 29. You were a divorced mother of two; he was a pro wrestler, for fuck’s sake. How would that work? It wouldn’t. It was a fun night, nothing more. It couldn’t be anything more.

> But you also couldn’t deny him. You went another round, your hands tangling in and tugging at his hair as his tongue teased you. He made you coffee and cooked you breakfast. And as you sat eating bacon and eggs in his kitchen, he asked if he could see you again.

> You gave him your number; you couldn’t stop yourself, even though you knew it wouldn’t go beyond that night. But as the days and weeks went by, you kept in touch. You talked almost every day. And you started falling for him. He was mature. Assertive. Decisive. And one day, he decided he wanted you to come to one of his shows.

> You flew to Florida by yourself. You knew next to nothing about that side of Adam other than what you’d seen on TV and online since you’d met him; and when you experienced it in person, it overwhelmed you. There was no way this could work. Sure, he was only going between Virginia and Florida now, but what about once the pandemic was over? He’d be on the road more often than not. It brought all your anxieties and fears to the surface. You should have stuck to your rule.

> He could tell something was wrong at the hotel that night. And when he asked you, you didn’t hold back. You were looking for a partner, for a father for your children, someone to make your family whole again… and you couldn’t ask that of him. You were just in different places in life, and there was no getting around it.

> But Adam wouldn’t settle for that. He asked you to give him a month. One month to prove that he could be what you needed, that it could work, that he wanted all the same things you wanted. Because when it all boiled down, you were what he wanted, all of you and everything that came with you. He’d show you if you just gave him a chance.

> So, despite your better judgement, you agreed. You gave him a month. And he proved it all. He proved age was just a number, that it could work between you, that he could and would be everything you needed and then some.

> That was six months ago. Now, you watch Dynamite every week with your kids. And you can’t help but smile as you watch them cheer on Hangman Adam Page, because you know that the next day he’ll be home with you.

#adam page headcanon #adam page imagine #adam page one shot #hangman page imagine #hangman page one shot #hangman page headcanon #hangman adam page imagine #hangman adam page one shot #hangman adam page headcanon

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - Domestic Disputes And Bad Habits (mysme x MC)

--- Zen ---

He hadn’t lived with anyone for years. After running away from home, he struggled with housing, sometimes couch surfing and sometimes he had legitimate leases. And when he lived with others, he was usually the ‘messy roommate’ because leaving home at a young age meant little opportunity to learn how to manage a living space. 

Even now, his apartment is relatively clean largely by virtue of him not owning a lot of stuff. He doesn’t cook so no dishes to clean, he doesn’t own loose knick knacks to spread around. 

When he housed you for a couple days prior to the first RFA party, he had quickly cleaned his apartment of empty beer cans and loose socks, which made it look like he was a man who kept a clean house. But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and by the next afternoon you noticed random articles tossed over chairs and upon the floor.

That was fine when it was only his space, but when the two of you began living together, Zen quickly had to learn that it wasn’t acceptable to shed his clothing upon the floor all the time, especially when the laundry basket was right there. No, Zen, get your loose socks out of the couch cushions. Zen, stop piling up empty cigarette boxes on the nightstand. Zen, once you’ve unwrapped the sheet mask from its plastic envelope would it kill you to throw it away, instead of leaving it on the bathroom counter?

He’s consistent when it comes to chores like doing the laundry and taking out the trash. But asking him to hang up his jacket instead of letting it crumple in the corner? It’s like getting blood from a stone. 

After a while, you finally get him to pick up after himself. “It’s our home, now,” you said. “Not just yours.” A promise that said he wasn’t alone, anymore. And he took it to heart.  

--- Yoosung ---

It may seem like his depression-ruled lifestyle seemed to change overnight, but that wasn’t the case. Sure, he did regain a lot of his motivation and energy, but simply getting a new lease on life won’t overrule years of neglecting yourself.

You’d text him in preparation for a date, only to arrive and find out he hasn’t even left his bed since he replied with an ‘I’ll get ready!’ More than once your dates had to be rescheduled because Yoosung had been stuck in bed, or still in his pajamas on his desktop. 

On the third time you voiced your complaints, Yoosung got a bit defensive. He couldn’t help it, it’s hard for him to maintain a tidy schedule after so long lacking the proper will. 

It was a terse discussion. Your first couple fight, if you will. “Yoosung, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t want to seek professional help?” “No, MC, I’m fine. What could a counselor possibly help me with?”

It was Yoosung’s own initiative to finally google some nearby therapists during a particularly slow morning. He didn’t tell you he’d been seeing someone until four sessions in, since he struggles with the idea that he might need help. You hug him tightly and treat the both of you to tasty pastries at a cute bakery. 

Yoosung took his therapy to heart. He started slow, working on self-affirming mindfulness and motivating himself to tidy his living space. Then he worked on his time management, which helped his schooling and energy both. 

Within the year, both you and Yoosung saw progress. He felt better, which made his life better. More time to live. More time to spend with you.

--- Jaehee ---

Domestic arguments didn’t arise until you moved in with her. Before that point, Jaehee and you meshed so gracefully, it was damn near magical. 

Even moving into her place and having to carry around heavy couches and unpack a million boxes didn’t dampen that honeymoon phase. You loved witnessing Jaehee’s hidden strength as she tugged your mattress down seven flights of stairs. 

But within a week of living with her, you noticed that you and her ... clashed when it came to interior living. You kept using up the hot water before Jaehee could take a shower. She would misplace your possessions thoughtlessly. The both of you thought each other as messier. 

It was like a new roommate situation. At first, the two of you tried to calmly talk these things out. But new issues would arise after the old ones were resolved. She didn’t like how you tossed your coat across the desk chair, or left the living room lamps on during the night. 

“It’s my apartment, MC!” “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought being your co-owner at the cafe we co-manage meant my co-money go into our co-rent!”

Jaehee went to work in a huff, leaving you to your own devices. Alone in the apartment, you decided to do some regular chores, and as you rested for a minute you absorbed the living space - you could see Jaehee’s touch in ever corner, thoughtfully and carefully labored over. It really almost seemed like your mindless efforts were invading her space.

When Jaehee returned that evening, the two of you tried to apologize at the same time. “Oh, sorry, you go -” “No, you, sorry for interrupting -”

“It’s just ... MC, I want to apologize for treating you like a naughty guest. You’re my partner now and deserve more say in our home.”

You made up and eventually the apartment evolved into a true home between the two of you. A perfect representation of your love.

--- Jumin ---

The dude can be shockingly conservative. In the beginning, it only manifested in him being somewhat of a prude. “I wish you wouldn’t wear that particular dress to the social. You look more beautiful when you show less skin.” “... you mean you’d personally prefer I didn’t show much skin, right?” “Yes? What was wrong with my previous sentence?”

But sometimes he’d be watching the news and blurt out, “I’m not sure if marriage between two men should be recognized by law.” Which leads to you trying to convince him that he’s being very unethical. 

He usually ends up saying something like, “I’m sorry, love, I’m rather uneducated when it comes to this issue,” and leave it at that. Because he’s not some right-wing jackass or anything, he just grew up in an isolated Christian family and never really got to socialize beyond that. So he never learned about viewpoints that challenged what he heard growing up.

It can be infuriating, though, especially with issues you’re concerned about. Because Jumin just kinda tries to compromise by taking a non-stance, since he just doesn’t have a strong opinion on things like reproductive rights or colonialism. It’s partially due to his sheltered background, and partially due to being raised to literally be conservative in his life dealings.

But after seeing you becoming more and more frustrated, he digs a little deeper and realizes that he’s kinda being an ass.  Eventually he begins to say things like, “I think you’re right, MC. Demonizing drug abusers is antithesis to their recovery. They deserve sympathy instead.”

But a pleasant surprise is his appreciation for climate conservation. He likes to donate and fund green power initiatives because he believes in preserving the environment and preventing nature exploitation. You join his efforts, and he finally understands how important it is to have solidarity from your significant other.

--- Saeyoung/707 ---

Being merely twenty-three years old (not to mention his neglected upbringing) leads to some rocky relationship problems. His self-doubt and anxiety can go wild during his worse days, making him revert back to his colder personality and try to push you away once more.

It doesn’t manifest as just him ignoring you. His mind can make him do some really round-about sabotaging. One day, you open the kitchen cabinets to see it all the objects thrown within haphazardly. You confronted Saeyoung and it took hours before he coldly confessed that he was considering throwing away all your favorite foods, before realizing how fucked up that would be and quickly replacing it all again. 

He knew it was his mother’s influence talking. And the thought made him sick. 

Sometimes, you responded to his darker days with loving patience and lots of hugs while he allows himself to break down. Sometimes, you choose to distance yourself a bit. Either way, Saeyoung’s mood eventually evens out. The two of you talk at length about why he feels the way he does, and why he’s propelled to do these things. As time goes on, his dark moods pop up less and less.

On a lighter note, Saeyoung can be a pretty messy dude. Partly because of his underlying mental issues, partly because that’s the type of guy he is. He doesn’t shower as much as you like him to, and he tosses trash just ... everywhere. If his bunker wasn’t so big, the clutter he alone produces would bury you both. No wonder he needed a ‘maid’. 

Yeah, it takes more than a few pushes to make him stop being a slob. He eventually owns up, but not without some effort. Everyone living in the house is grateful. 

--- Saeran ---

It took many months before Saeran felt stable enough to start integrating into normal society, and even longer before his daily schedule began to stabilize beyond surprise breakdowns, spreads of bad days spent holed up, or horrible dips in moods.

Saeran would always live with dissociative identity disorder, and during the first few years it could get tough. Both ‘Suit’ and Ray would be triggered seemingly without warning, and sometimes last for days. Ray did anything he could to earn your affection, ‘Suit’ defected his fears by trying to provoke you. 

Therapy and medication was an ongoing process. You and Saeran went through more than a couple of therapists before finding the ‘one’. Medications had to be tried then dropped because of side effects, or lack of effectiveness. There were long periods of months in-between where all he could do was hope this new treatment would be more effective than the last.

‘Suit’ once got particularly violent with you, not hitting but shaking you by the shoulders and screaming in your face, “Just say it!! You hate me ... you want to hurt me!!”

You found 'Suit’ later, crying and curled up in a corner. After long coaxing, he confessed that he was so afraid you were eventually going to hurt him, so he was pushing you to see if you’d do it. 

And Ray’d do things like blow away all his saved up money to buy you gifts in a desperate show of affection. Just because the two of you were living in a safe, stable environment doesn’t mean old haunts wouldn’t pop up.

Saeran eventually got better and better. Looking back now, Saeran is so much happier. He never lets you forget your amazing influence on him. “Thank you for saving me, my love.” 

--- Jihyun ---

He’s the perfect example of a loving boyfriend. After his two years spent in a therapeutic journey of self-discovery, he returned ready to be a reliable partner. And for the most part, he lived up to it, barring some moments where he accidentally gets sucked into bad memories.

Insomnia is the most common problem. Settling down to sleep means his mind gets easily swamped, and when he does manage to sleep he wakes up during the night and gets overwhelmed with memories once again. Some nights are worse than others.

He tries not to get up from the bed to avoid waking you too, but you eventually develop a second sense for his insomnia spells and you can feel it when he’s struggling. Then he feels bad that he’s affecting you this way.

See, that’s his problem that he can’t resolve on his own. He thinks of his problems as obstacles that bother others, and not the obstacles themselves. This prevents him from finding ways to truly resolve them. 

“I’m sorry, MC. Go back to sleep.” “... Jihyun, how many nights has it been since you’ve slept properly?” He measures it by the nights you’ve been kept awake too, and you stop him there.

“Don’t you see? It’s not about me. Think about your own health.”

And that’s not easy for him. He had obsessed over being a figure that offers unconditional love for so long, it’s hard to shed it. He thinks of his mother and his eyes grow wet. 

He and you find a relationship therapist, and it helps a lot. Jihyun’s two years of self-discovery did wonders for his mood, but it took a bit of professional aid to really unravel the really complicated stuff. 

He feels his state of thinking shift gradually, and it makes his life less cloudy, less stuck in those bad memories and regrets. Instead, he goes to sleep every night thinking about how much he loves you and his family. His heart falls asleep feeling light instead of heavy. 

#mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger imagines #mysme zen #Yoosung Kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #jihyun kim #domestic violence tw #angst #angst and fluff #abuse tw

[i-stan-nct-and-satan]

He Calls Me Kitten (Yandere)

Trigger Warning: It’s yandere so it’s gonna be abusive. Don’t kink shame me lol.  No smut in part one, but yes in part 2. I wrote this as a part one leading up to a story that was requested. Part 2 here

Disclaimer: I realize Taeyong is the softest boi in real life, but this is hard hours my dudes.

Yandere Taeyong X reader.

When Taeyong first brought you to his home against your will, you did everything in your power to escape, only to be beaten as punishment. You were never one to give into his outrageous commands and so you disregarded his rules and even went out of your way to upset him. Those days were a living hell for you. Beatings would occur repeatedly throughout the day. Taeyong was furious at how little process you were making. His perfect little toy was causing more irritation than pleasure. No matter how violent he became, you were still resisting him. He didn’t enjoy hurting you, well he did, but not to this extent. He was worried that he would end up killing you before you would ever start obeying him. The worst part was that you never even begged him to stop. This pissed him off more than anything. What was wrong with you? Why wouldn’t you even try to promise him anything he wanted to get him to stop? Not like he would stop even if you did, but he wanted nothing more than to see your pretty little mouth begging him to take mercy on you.

That was until Taeyong suddenly stopped the beatings all together. One of his rules was that you were to greet him every day when he came into your room in the mornings. Of course, you ignored him out of spite. You watched him as he sat on your bed and just looked at you. He lifted his hand up and you braced yourself for the first hit of the day, but it never came. You opened your eyes and looked at your captor. His lifted his index finger was lifted up as if he were pointing at the ceiling.

“One,” was all he said before getting up to leave the room.  

Perturbed at the strange action, you went about your day continuing to break his ridiculous rules. Every time you broke a rule, you would prepare yourself for the worst, but he would just look at you and say a number. It was like he was counting your rebellions. Although you were relieved by the lack of abuse, you became increasingly anxious about the counting. What did it mean? What was he planning?

It was a really strange day. Since Taeyong wasn’t constantly giving you punishments, you actually found yourself enjoying his company for the first time since he kidnapped you. It was weird. You knew how horrible he was, but you were so lonely living in the house with only him for so long, that when he actually started joking around with you, you would laugh and joke back. It almost made you think that maybe following his rules would allow you to live a somewhat tolerable life. Maybe.  

The counting continued. He was at 21 when it was dinnertime and you started eating before he told you you were allowed to. He kept keeping track of your mistakes, but he didn’t show any anger. He even spent the whole meal telling you how beautiful you were and that despite your bruises, to him, you became more beautiful every day. He told you he loved you, which he didn’t do very often despite telling you that was the reason why he kept you locked up. Normally you would tell him that he was full of shit and that if he loved you, then he would let you go and never bother you again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disrupt the first pleasant meal you’ve had in weeks.  

After you both finished eating, you decided to try and ask him about the counting. He stopped clearing the dishes off of the table and just stared at you. After a brief silence, he smiled.

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” Taeyong outstretched his hand, motioning for you to take it.  

You felt uneasy all of a sudden, but since he had been so kind up to this point, you figured you should do what he says. You take his hand and he leads you downstairs to the basement. Your anxiety comes back as it seems that he is heading towards the room he held you captive in for weeks after having kidnapped you. You remember how awful it was. Everything was so dark and cold, and you were alone for days before Taeyong explained why he brought you there. You were afraid that he was going to lock you in there again, so you started panicking. Taeyong saw the panic on your face and as if he were reading you mind, he told you not to worry.  

“Is my little kitten scared that I’ll lock her up again?”

You don’t respond. You just look down at the floor.

“Twenty-Two. Remember Y/N, I don’t like being ignored.”

“I’m sorry,” You respond.

Taeyong quirks his head slightly.

“I guess my kitten is finally learning how to act.”

You never apologized to him before for anything, but it just sort of slipped out. The circumstances were just so confusing that you forgot about your goal to disobey him every chance you got.  

He smirked before turning towards the door. He reached for the handle, but before turning it, he looked at you.

“I hope you’re ready, little kitten. This is what happens when you act naughty.”

He looks away from your confused face and turns the handle, opening the door. You followed him into the room and gasped as when you saw your best friend tied to a chair and blindfolded.  

“You fucking monster!” you screamed as you ran to your friend’s aid. You scramble to untie her from the chair.

“It’s gonna be okay! I promise I’m going to get you out of here,” you tried to assure her, but she didn’t respond.

The sound of Taeyong’s laughter filled the room and your heartbeat stopped.  

“What did you do to her?”

“I gave her all sorts of things to make sure she wouldn’t wake up for at least another six hours. You should actually be thanking me,” he announced.

“Thank you?! Why would I thank you?”  

The real Taeyong had returned.

“You wanted to know what the counting was for, right? Since my original methods weren’t effective enough, I figured you could use a break, at the expense of your friend of course.”

No. He couldn’t be serious. You felt like an idiot for thinking the counting was innocent.  

“For every rule you broke today, your friend will receive a little a mark to remember you by.”

He slowly made his way to the fireplace. It was never lit while you were in the room, but right now it was roaring. Taeyong reached down and grabbed a long metal pole that had one end glowing bright orange from being in the fire for so long.  

“No! Please don’t, Taeyong!”

You ran over to him and dropped to his feet. Tears were streaming down your face. You grabbed his legs and continued pleading.  

Taeyong loved seeing this new side of you. He had been waiting for this for so long. Seeing you beg and plead was more satisfying than he had ever imagined, but he shook you off of him with a swift kick to your stomach. He started walking towards your friend. You knew you had to act. You looked around the room for something to fight with, but to no avail. You got up and charged at Taeyong, but like the previous times you tried to fight back, Taeyong easily threw you to the ground, making sure not to touch you with the brand. You tried to get up, but the air was knocked out of you when Taeyong slammed you back down. You could barely move as you watched Taeyong approach your friend.

“Please. I’ll do anything you want.”

You forced the words out, still gasping for air.

Taeyong stopped in his tracks and slowly turned look at you.

“Anything?”  

A sickening grin took over his face.

“Yes! Anything! I swear to God. Just please don’t hurt her!"

Youclosed my eyes and started sobbing until you felt hands on you face. You opened them to stare into the eyes of your captor.  

“You know that I can find anyone and bring them here, right? None of them are safe from me. Your family, your friends, all of them are at my mercy. Is that enough to get my kitten to start behaving?”

Your eyes widen at your sudden realization. This is what he wanted all along. He wanted you to beg and bargain for your friend’s life. That’s why he put her to sleep. It was so she wouldn’t see his face or remember any of this. This was all his sick plan to show you that your actions wouldn’t just affect you anymore. You knew what you had to do.

“Yes,” you replied.

“You know the rules kitten, or should I go back to playing with your dear friend?”

Fuck. You forgot how he told you to reply to him.  

“Y-yes, sir. I mean no, sir,” you stuttered.

Taeyong smiled.

“Good kitten.”

#Yandere NCT #nct yandere #yandere #nct smut #yandere au #nct au #kpop smut #kpop yandere #Taeyong smut #Taeyong au

[samwrights]

Elixir - Punk!AU mini-series

Hi guys! So I wanted to write something a little different. Not necessarily a “choose your own adventure” but something along those lines. This mini series will be a Punk!AU where the reader is in a band where your story depends on the person you choose! While no place is actually mentioned, I’m thinking Chicago (home sweet home) for setting. I’ve been working on this between requests and, while the requests keep coming, I’m trying to get the routes going. For now, I present to you the prologue.

Thank you quarantine, necessary drives to my Starbucks, Halestorm, Neck Deep, Pierce the Veil, and Paramore for inspiring these babies. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: there will be swearing, smoking of cigarettes and weed, consumption of edibles and alcohol, cheating and possibly be NSFW. I haven’t decided on the last one yet. Everyone will be of legal US age for consumption of nicotine, marijuana, and alcohol in the present day (18+ in some states for tobacco, 21+ in for everything else). However, there are mentions of underage consumption/distribution of alcohol. These are genuinely mature themes! If you are unable to understand that these themes are not encouraged to be re-enacted, specifically cheating and underage consumption/distribution of nicotine, alcohol, or marijuana, please do not read for your own safety.

A complementary playlist can be found  »  here

Photocredit by @scandeniall​

Word Count: 3504

Prologue is below the cut!

You had been trying to ignore the gnawing thrum of discomfort that had worked its way into your intuition the last few weeks, but today the dull throb had transcended into an alarm blaring at the back of your consciousness. Like your body was trying to tell you something that should have been painstakingly obvious, yet when you attempted to pinpoint the cause, you fell short with an answer.

Period? Nah, too early for that.

Food poisoning? That wouldn’t last multiple weeks.

Pulled a muscle at the gym? That was a joke, considering you hadn’t gone to a gym since your senior year of college.

Anxiety? Well that was a given, considering you had a nasty gut feeling about something.

Stress? Stress was nothing new. In fact, stress was a very familiar friend to you.

What the fuck was it?

Even meditating on the thought for the last three hours, an answer had yet to come to you. Without ever finding one, you reluctantly pull the plush covers off of your queen sized bed and push yourself up to sit on the edge before checking your phone’s lock screen for the time. 1:23pm. You still had quite some time before you needed to leave for band practice, but you knew full well that laying in bed any further would encourage your current laziness. Making your way around the clothes that haphazardly littered your disheveled bedroom floor, you entered your bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

The warmth of the water did little to quell the unsettling feeling that emanated from your gut. You even attempted to center your with old therapy tactics such as identifying all of your surroundings, such as which muscles of your body the shower was raining upon or the different notes in your voice that reverberated off the shower walls as you subconsciously sang. When that had failed, you allowed your mind to wander through the metaphorical meadow that resided in your brain.

At first, your mind focused on whatever lyrics fell from your lips, recognizing the prose as one of your band’s songs. Connecting the words that were committed to memory with people, your mind began to wander to your friends—the three boys you were thankful enough to call your best friends of a decade and members of your band, Elixir—Tetsurō Kuroo, Takahiro Hanamaki, and Yūji Terushima.

Kuroo, or Tetsu as you sometimes called him, was the guitarist of Elixir and the “mastermind” behind the name of your little group. Mastermind being a relatively loose term, as at the time, you all had felt indifferent to the name. But as nobody had come with any better alternatives, you all had stuck to it until it had grown on you. Kuroo was a year younger than you and, outside of the band, was a chemist for a small time company at the ripe age of twenty six. As you thought of him, you let out a soft snort that nobody but you could hear, thinking of his disheveled raven haired locks that framed his face; thinking of his earlobe holes that had been stretched out to nearly half an inch in diameter; thinking of the myriad of tattoos that littered his body from neck to toe. Sometimes, it did seem a little funny that this man had to wear a lab coat on the daily. You were so proud of him and of his accomplishments. He was ambitious and driven, focused on his goal of succeeding in both his field and with his band. Whether that meant recording an album and touring or just continuing to have fun was unknown, since really he would be fine with either or both.

Entertaining your analytical thoughts about Kuroo brought you to the bassist of your band, Takahiro Hanamaki, as you had met them both at your high school jobs in a local cafe. Makki, though he initially seemed profoundly reserved, had a relaxed sense of humor that typically came at the expense of others. At the time, he was a distinct contrast to Kuroo’s loud, antagonistic nature. Now, the two of them began to take bits and pieces of each other’s personalities. While Makki’s cool, composed self remained, he also was not one to avoid baiting someone just to crack a joke or tease them, an attribute he had adopted over the years of exposure to you and the guitarist. However, his laidback attitude was almost never immediately acknowledged by strangers, as his lanky build and harrowing, deep set eyes typically intimidate those who don’t know the light hearted bassist. And while he wasn’t the most “modified” member of the band, many saw the two eyebrow rings that rested above the right brow and, in conjunction with his natural features, immediately assumed the impression that Makki was unapproachable. You always had a soft spot for Makki and his slightly misunderstood ways.

Speaking of misunderstood brought your mind to the youngest member of your quartet—Yūji Terushima, or Teru as you affectionately called him. While he was only a year younger than the boys, two years in comparison to you, he was the life energy of the squad. When he had entered the cafe in which you, Kuroo, and Makki worked at for his first day, it felt that the final missing piece of the puzzle had been found, though you didn’t know it yet. It had been a year later, with you officially accepting the role of supervisor instead of trainer and Kuroo being your replacement. The two hit it off swimmingly and, while Makki didn’t necessarily match his energy, he compensated with humor. Terushima was, and still is, a wild thing. He breathes life into the rest of you by offering up crazy adventures that varied from a simple 2am Walmart trip to breaking into forest preserves at the dead of night to swim in a creek even though you had finals to attend to the following morning. In a sense, Terushima was the very reason Elixir had been born. After all, he was the one who encouraged each you to learn covers of songs until the interest had been sparked enough to learn how to properly play everyone’s respected instruments.

Backtracking your thoughts—finals. Finals meant university, and university was probably the most wild time of your life. As the friendship between the four of you continued to blossom with years passing, you all had made a pact to attend the same university. At one point, it had been tricky, trying to decide on where you were going to go and if you wanted to wait for Teru to catch up due to the age gap or if you, as the eldest, were going to pave the way for your juniors. It came as a surprise to the boys when you announced that you would wait, taking a two year gap in order to save money to lessen the blow of tuition in your bank account. Even more surprisingly, Kuroo and Makki had agreed with each other to do the same—what was the point in you staying behind and waiting for Yūji if they weren’t going to as well?

Waiting for Terushima turned out to be the absolute best idea ever. While you were initially hesitant to be rooming with three boys, friendship be damned, the four of you getting an apartment together for your university years was the best chaotic good moment you had ever been involved in. In a way, you all had gotten to celebrate many firsts together because of it. Did it bother you that you were a slightly older freshman? Sure, a little bit. Did it matter? Not at all, considering you were able to start buying liquor and beer as a sophomore in college and, as soon as your younger peers found out, you had turned it into a business to help pay rent for your shared apartment. Oddly enough, Terushima was the one who handled all of the expenses and calculated what you should be charging for your, ahem, “services”. Go figure, the youngest of you all was a math whiz. There was one unwritten rule for the apartment—no parties. Period. You could use your services to grab whatever supplies needed, whether it be alcohol, weed from a dispensary, or cigarettes, they were for your guys’ personal use only. Home was meant to home, and that was that.

Home; probably the single most important word in the entirety of your personal dictionary. While home was most often defined as a place in which a person or family resides, it meant something entirely different to you. Being home meant being with your best friends, your family. It meant being free to be yourself, unapologetically and unabashedly. And, maybe after rummaging through every single thought and analyzing each one through a metaphorical microscope, maybe that was where the disturbance in your intuition—that nasty gut feeling residing in the pit of your stomach—was coming from. There was something that you could not quite place that was disturbing your freedom, your home. Coming to the realization that your hot water had now gone cold, prompting you to shut it off and seek refuge and warmth in a fluffy towel and robe. Had it gone cold in that moment—the moment you realized why you had been on edge? Or had it been running cold out of irony that you had been in meditation for so long you hadn’t even realized it? You would never know the answer.

2:07pm. You still had plenty of time before band practice, considering both Makki and Tetsu would still be at work for another hour. To give them ample time to unwind from their work day, practice always started at five in the evening. In an attempt to kill time, you opted to make yourself a small lunch before sitting down to do your hair and makeup so as that you felt more comfortable being in public. Not that the boys cared—they lived with you for four years in university, they knew what you looked like at your absolute worst. Perhaps it became a habit to do so when you re-entered the working world as a full fledged adult three years ago.

2:29pm. After having your lunch, even taking the time to do all the dishes before moving into your next task—getting ready. While you didn’t feel the need to go overboard on your appearance, since it was just practice after all, you still had a solid hour and a half before Elixir was supposed to meet. Having plenty of time to kill allowed you to take your time to forego some self-care as well; maybe giving your locks a little extra tender love and care if you felt you needed it; plucking stray eyebrow hairs that had grown just a bit further outside of your desired shape. You checked the time on your phone again after you felt your look was complete, hair, makeup, and all. How the fuck had only an hour gone by? That was way more effort than you normally put in, or so you claim, yet time seemed to be mocking you.

3:36pm. If you could magically waste time picking out an outfit to wear to practice, you were doing so now. One part of you almost wanted to chuck on the leather pants you would potentially be sporting for tomorrow evening so as to give them a slight stretch and make them more comfortable while you performed. Another said to just keep it simple, and stick to leggings and a nice loose tee to keep you at ease. The last option that your mind entertained was wearing shorts and a tank because it always got so hot in Terushima’s basement during practice. You even went so far as to try on multiple shirts and tops that were essentially the same, swapping out different preferred accessories to see if you liked the look, if only to make the minutes tick by. Hell, you even tried multiple pairs of shoes, lacing each foot individually before the clock had passed four in the afternoon. Eventually, you tied on your typical, everyday combat boots despite the wasted minutes trying to do a wardrobe check. Now that there was only an hour left for Elixir to begin arriving the at the drummer’s family home, you decide to give yourself ample time to stop by and grab coffee for everyone.

4:13pm. You send a text message out to your mates, waiting for them to reply with what you knew would be their typical orders. Well, as typical as it could be considering Terushima was always trying out crazy concoctions. One by one they responded and of course, your assumptions were correct when Teru sent in his drink that took up four rows of text. “What in the actual fuck?” You grumbled out, squinting at your phone while simultaneously trying to enter your car. Following your typical routine of turning on whatever guilty pleasure playlist you were feeling in that moment and lighting a cigarette, you glanced at your friends order one more time before ultimately deciding to place the order online. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself ordering Yūji’s stupid drink. After placing the order, you made your way to a Starbucks closest to the aforementioned boy’s family home.

The drive to Terushima’s wasn’t a particularly long, even with the coffee run. Traveling between two suburban towns typically only took about twenty minutes regardless of the direction you were coming from, though you hadn’t taken into account the long line wrapping around the Starbucks Drive-thru. Not that it mattered—you were still on time for practice. Even if it seemed all of your friends were already here. Cautiously exiting your car with the tray of drinks in one hand while you let yourself into the Terushima residence.

His parents greeted you warmly as you always did before you made your way down to the basement. “Ayeeee, there’s momma.” Makki greets, taking the tray from your hands and distributing everyone’s respective drinks. Small talk place between band members, distracting you from the other three people in the basement—your bandmates’ girlfriends. When you did finally acknowledge their presence, you gave them a tight lipped smile, so as not to be rude, though they only gave a blank stare before bringing their attention back to the phones in their hands. You gave a roll of your eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, per se. It was more along the lines of you were the only female in the band and they automatically assumed that you were out to steal their mans. Not the case, especially considering you all formed the band before any of them were even in the picture, but go off.

Having already finished your beverage from earlier, you began plugging in the microphone into the amplifier and tuning the guitar you used for a small number of songs. Everyone else seemed to be ready to go except for you, who was strapping on the aforementioned guitar to prepare for the insanity of an opening that is Kuroo’s masterpiece. Besitos, he called it. Spanish for little kisses, you often wondered where the romantic title had come from considering the narrative was less than pleasant, even foreshadowing murder in the final verse. When you asked him about the inspiration for the lyrics and the title, Kuroo did nothing but laugh, adding in, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

The second song was a project curated by your drummer, Terushima. Brick by Boring Brick was a song that he claimed was inspired by his girlfriend, which was an endearing gesture if that were the truth. But from what you and the rest of Elixir had known of his girlfriend, she didn’t come off as a person plagued with baggage. Not that you could base it solely off of appearance, but with her and Yūji’s short lived relationship, it was a bit unbelievable that he had unlocked her tragic backstory in a matter of three months. Then again, what did you know? You didn’t even remember her name.

The title of the third song, Growing Pains, always made you laugh at the irony considering that Makki’s tall ass wrote the song. While a romantic, upbeat love song from Teru didn’t strike you as a shock, it certainly did coming from the bassist. Emotions that danced in the “love” category didn’t really sway him often. Maybe his girlfriend was just that special to him? You weren’t sure, because once again, you knew none of their names. But you knew for a fact that the song seemed to call for something more stable, endearing growth together and support for each other, which had you questioning how long had you been apart from your friends.

After the third song, you were winded and uncomfortable and no amount of water you chugged was helping you with sweat and dehydration. “I’m gonna die tomorrow.” You joked after setting your water bottle down by your microphone stand.

“We’re only a third of the way through the set, headass.” Terushima joked, pulling down his lower left eyelid and sticking his tongue out to you.

“For real, it’s only been like twenty minutes since we started practice.” Kuroo chided.

“Yeah, but can we smoke instead? I think there were a few things we should tune up before moving onto the next third of the set.” You looked to your guitarist with pleading eyes, holding a cigarette and lighter between your fingers. Makki, without saying anything else, pulled out a small bowl and packed it. He knew that any form of pleading made Kuroo a weak man, which inevitably meant a smoke break was up next rather than continuing on with work.

“Fine.” Despite the mock defeat in his tone, Kuroo is already gliding up the stairs, taking two steps at a time with you in tow. More steps could be heard, but they were lighter than the boys you had come know so well, meaning the three stooges were most likely following suit, despite them not being smokers themselves.

You and Kuroo were currently seated on a stone barricade as you lit your cigarettes, the rest of the crew picking at sporadic seats along the wall. Teru and Makki were next to each other to share their bowl while their girlfriends sat on the outside of them, just to your right. Kuroo’s girlfriend had taken up occupying the space between you and your guitarist and, maybe for a moment, you were wondering they were deliberately arranged this way.

The worst part of the girlfriends accompanying practice, in your eyes, was not their presence, but rather the fact that you felt like you couldn’t even talk to your best friends, your bandmates at band practice, because they were too busy comforting them so that they “didn’t feel out of place”. Regardless, you respected your friends enough to not make the situation more difficult for them—if you needed to say something, you could say it in the basement where spectator talk was not welcome. Out of the corner of your eye while you were internally monologuing, you see the lanky arm of Makki offering you the bowl, a few cinders of his hot still lit. With poor timing, he grabbed your attention while you were exhaling the smoke in your lungs, unintentionally doing so onto his girlfriend. “Shit, I’m sorry.” She rolled her eyes, though you know you didn’t do it on purpose. Whatever, she had her truths. You held up your hand that squeezed the filter of your cigarette between your index and ring finger. “I’ll get it on the next turn,” making Makki shrug and pass the small glass bowl back to the drummer.

A couple more drags of your cigarette soothes your craving for nicotine and when the paper had finally burned all the way to the end of the filter, you tossed the butt into the dead fire pit that acted as the center for your gathering. Terushima stands up real quick to hand you the bowl that had been nearing its end—giving you the last couple hits before it was cashed. When it came to marijuana, you didn’t smoke very often, but today you were grateful for the offering. Maybe the high would take the edge off of your...anxiety? No, that wasn’t it. Irritation seemed to be a better fit.

The seven of you shuffle back into the basement, rearranging yourselves, and knocking back a beer. “Okay, so before we move on, is there any song that you guys think we should work on before moving to the next third of the set?” You asked, your back towards your audience while you looked at your bandmates in earnest. They looked at each other, before locking eyes with you.

“Is there anything you want to work on? You’re the one who’s switching around with instruments and you’re the one who runs around on stage so we’ll leave it up to you.” Kuroo says evenly. You pursed your lips in uncertainty, think back to how each song sounded.

“Ya know what, let’s work on...........”

[ Besitos ] » Kuroo’s Route

[ Brick By Boring Brick ] » Terushima’s Route

[ Growing Pains ] » Makki’s Route.

BONUS: Terushima’s Starbucks order.

#singer!reader #i love hanamaki #can you tell #lizzo is my guilty pleasure #punk!au #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu!! au #haikyuu!! #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #punk!kuroo #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo #hanamaki x reader #haikyuu hanamaki #hanamaki takahiro #hq hanamaki #punk!hanamaki #images not mine #songs not mine #haikyuu terushima #terushima imagine #terushima yuuji #yūji terushima #hq terushima #terushima x reader #punk!terushima