#like i could make a dirty candi tee and it feels like it could be from a real pop band yknow
𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲
pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader
tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth
summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.
a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.
It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn��t belong in such a world as nice as this one.
But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.
When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.
That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.
Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty.
The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door.
Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does.
“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”
The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”
“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”
“Disgusting.”
He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”
And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard.
Fuck.
A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.”
And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”
Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too.
And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive.
Fuck me, he thinks.
The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks.
“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.”
Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows.
He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats.
Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.
In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”
His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”
You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”
“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”
And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved?
He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites.
Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.
“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”
“Madonna?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”
Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.
But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”
Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”
“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”
His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.
Eddie sees you again.
And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all.
Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches.
Summer has never felt so long.
Again.
Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares?
Again, anyways.
You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.
And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.
He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful.
You’re completely devastating.
You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”
Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”
“Why do I even do that?”
“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”
“You said…”
“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”
You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”
“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”
He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to.
“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”
“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”
And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes.
You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.
So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration.
“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”
Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him.
Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”
You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?”
“Only because it made me think of you.”
For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”
His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter.
“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”
“No girlfriend.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”
“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”
“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”
“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.
Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest.
Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.
“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation.
“Nope.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”
Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it.
Please.
A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.
And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.
“You’re so pretty, you know that?”
You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin.
He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.
And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”
You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.”
“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”
“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”
Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”
Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”
“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.
This is what he’s wanted. This is it.
And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven.
Just like heaven.
“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”
He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”
“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”
“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”
“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”
“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”
Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”
Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”
“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”
“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”
Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”
“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”
He’s earned it.
“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.
Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole.
“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”
Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”
“Christ, please.”
And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks.
He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’ before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.
Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.
He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.
“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”
Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.
You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex.
Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.
“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers.
“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”
“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”
Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him.
You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin.
For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.
“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”
You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath.
Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.
He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”
“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”
“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, baby.”
You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.
He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.
You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”
“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”
“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”
“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”
And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.
“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.”
You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls.
Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”
You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”
“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”
“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”
“Please, s’too hard.”
“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”
“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”
“No.”
You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you.
You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.
“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”
You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more.
“You’re s-so big.”
Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”
“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”
“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”
“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”
Fucking hell.
You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.
How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know.
He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!
He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”
“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”
“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”
“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”
“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”
“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”
“Suits you better.”
You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away.
“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”
“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”
I adore you.
I adore you.
You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.
You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive.
He’s milked. Spent.
Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.
It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.
My good boy, you think.
“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick.
“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”
“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”
Oh. It’s a joke.
And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”
“I’m alive.”
“Barely.”
“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”
“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”
“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”
Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces.
“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”
A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.
You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with.
He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs.
Fucker.
“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”
You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”
“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”
You stare at him like he’s crazy.
“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”
He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.
Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning.
Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door.
And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night.
So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood.
God forbid they have coyotes, right?
But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.
Even though, the album is growing on him.
He’ll never admit that, though.
27K notes
·
View notes
i need more yandere!inumaki x fem!reader x yan!yuuta T - T imagine those 2 hot shawties in tandem
♥ Your Wish Come True ♥
♡ Characters: yandere!Toge Inumaki x Fem!Reader x yandere!Yuta Okkotsu
♡ Warnings: Yandere elements, FLUFF & ANGST, Drugging , gaslighting , Dirty talk/thoughts, NSFW but no obvious smut, mentions of pregnancy, polygamy, etc.
♡ Word Count: 2,887
♡Authors Note: Thank you to ALL OF MY FOLLOWERS . You all encourage me to write every single day , I wake up in the morning and seeing all those 'Like' and 'Reblogs' make life feel worth living .
My brain really wasn't working when I wrote this , still I Hope you enjoy, anon! ♡ - your author , Tee.
Directory Buy me a Ko-Fi? JuJutsu Kaisen Masterlist Submit a fic request!
BLOG IS 18+ — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
It was the day before Halloween, music filled the air of your living room, creating a casual ambiance as you perched on a step ladder, meticulously attaching little craft paper bats to the ceiling with tape. Halloween held a special place in your heart, and you relished in the chillier air and the falling leaves that adorned the trees. Your roommates/best friends Toge and Yuta had left to grab some candy to put outside the door tomorrow night. Lost in the moment, you hummed along to the music, which was playing perhaps a touch too loudly.
Suddenly, your phone erupted into intense vibrations, sending a sensation coursing through the soles of your sock-clad feet, momentarily throwing off your balance. Caught off guard, a startled yelp escaped your lips, and you found yourself swaying precariously on the ladder.
In that split second, two sets of strong hands swiftly closed in, each firmly gripping one side of your waist. Startled, you glanced downward to be met with the concerned gazes of Yuta and Toge. Their presence, unexpected yet reassuring, filled you with a mix of surprise and gratitude as you regained your stability. Their concern was evident, etched on their faces as they gazed up at you.
Why were they always so damn quiet, or maybe you just always played your music too loud?
In that brief moment of rescue, a curious and perplexing exchange took place, leaving you with questions swirling in your mind. Why were they home so early? How did they manage to keep a watchful eye on you when you hadn’t even noticed them? Wait were they finally coming home to profess their love for you , to take you as theirs like you’d wanted for years?
Their presence, though comforting, raised a sense of intrigue and mystery, leaving you to wonder what lay behind their expressions.
Toge swiftly retrieved your phone that had clattered to the floor, his hand deftly pressing the pause button, abruptly halting the music. His gaze, however, didn't fail to scan through the flurry of message notifications that adorned your lock screen, betraying a hint of curiosity and also of anger. A brow was cocked slightly after seeing that even one of your teachers, Satoru Gojo , had invited you over.
How inappropriate to invite your innocent , mindblowingly beautiful student over, Toge thought to himself , making a mental note for him and Yuta to take care of that human trash later.
"You've got to stop this habit of being so reckless and stubborn about doing these things on your own,-" Yuta exhaled, his grip around your waist tightening, causing you to let out something similar to a gasp at the feeling. “-you have us here.”
As Toge's hands relinquished their hold, Yuta effortlessly guided you down, setting your feet back on the floor with ease.
Despite being your best friends since middle school, they had always been special to you. Every other friend you made had eventually stopped talking to you, but Toge and Yuta were always there, you could count on them.
Toge's eyes briefly shifted to the ceiling, admiring the array of little paper bats that now adorned it. - God shes adorable they- both thought to themselves , a smile graced Yutas face as he turned his attention back to you.
"The bats look really good, though, babe..." His words elicited an innocent grin that tugged at your lips, and forced your heart to work overtime. Yuta's fingers tenderly tucked a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, his touch both comforting and protective.
A warm feeling spread throughout your body with all the affection and attention you got from them , your eyes twinkled upwards toward the display you had made on the ceiling, a gentle breeze breathed life into the paper bats, causing them to sway and dance, adding an enchanting touch to the ambiance.
“Shit the sun is already setting?!”
You groaned , feeling like time had been going much to quick today, the cogs in your brain were starting to turn faster as well , imagining dressing up your own children ; two of them , who looked identical to their fathers , and you heavily pregnant with another.
However, as you picked up your phone to check the time, you felt its familiar vibrations, and a hint of resignation crossed your face. It seemed that external distractions were determined to pull you away from the comfort of your thoughts, house , and the company of your roommates. With a deep exhale, you began to make your way toward your room, phone in hand, hoping to find a moment of solace.
Toge and Yuta exchanged a brief look, if you had been paying any attention you would see that the look they gave each other was a mirror, as if they were sharing the same brain and its thoughts.
They stood there, Yuta nodded understanding that they couldn't let you leave so easily. Their shared desire to keep you by their side intensified, urging them to follow you, their footsteps falling in sync behind you.
Unbeknownst to you, both Toge and Yuta harbored their own feelings for you, their emotions running deeper than mere friendship. The unspoken connection, tinged with a mixture of longing and uncertainty, fueled their determination to prevent you from venturing into new relationships, friends or not, they were all you needed ; they were sure of it. Meanwhile, you were oblivious to the shared affection they held for you, instead you used other people and things to distract yourself from the possibility of ever noticing, satisfied by your own thoughts.
A whoosh of air tickled your senses as you plopped on your plush bed belly first, eyes locked on your costume that hung from a velvet hanger on your closet door. The only thing that broke your trance was the vibration in your hand.
Playfully you kicked your legs back and forth in an attempt to zone out the crass and crude thoughts that were trying to occupy every space in your mind. Fingers moved across the screen are you quickly scrolled through social media , a photo text suddenly pinged your notifications;
Satoru motherfucking Gojo had really just sent you an amazing dick pic. The bottom of your lip found its way in between your teeth, cheeks pinkening as you stared at the image.
It was at the same moment that the boys entered your room whispering, quietly chuckling between themselves that you realized they were about to see the text from Gojo, your Psychology Professor.
The apples of your cheeks were on fire now and your gulp was audible as your fingers scurried to turn the screen off and bury your device under a pillow.
Yuta, ever perceptive, picked up on your unease and approached you with playful yet genuine concern etched on his face, like you were a child who had gotten caught sneaking candy.
"Everything okay, princess?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine care , the curiosity itself could drive him insane. He knew that whatever had stirred up your emotions wasn't related to him or Toge, but that didn't stop his curiosity from nudging him to delve deeper.
"I'm... I'm fine, Y-yuta" you stammered and when you said his name your thighs clenched on their own , it was out of your control, and all you could was hope he didn’t pick up on it. Even your cheeks were still flushed from the unexpected encounter with Gojo's text, this did nothing to help.
Your attempt to brush off the situation only heightened Yuta's concern; interest. He could sense there was more to your reaction than you were letting on, and yet the way in which you said his name made him tilt his head and run a hand through his loose onyx locks
Toge, who had been silently observing the exchange, took a step closer, his expression a mix of curiosity and false empathy, his brain was calculating every possible way to keep you inside tonight that didn’t pose a risk to you physically, perhaps gaslighting?
"Are you sure, Y/N? You seem a bit flustered and look like you’ve got a fever-" he chimed in, his gentle tone inviting you to open up.
“-i’ll go get you a hot cocoa,” Toge offered as he was already walking out of the room, giving you no chance to respond.
Caught between their genuine concern and your desire to keep your emotions concerning everything hidden, you hesitated for a moment. The truth was, you held a deep crush on both Yuta and Toge, but you convinced yourself that they only saw you as a friend and roommate. The thought of revealing your feelings filled you with saccharine-laced dread. Yuta's hand gently reached out, his fingers tracing a comforting pattern on the edge of your bed.
"You know, Y/N, we're here for you. Whatever it is, you can talk to us," he reassured, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. Those dark eyes of his momentarily shifted to take in the sight of how good your ass looked in the black leggings you wore, he felt the animalistic urge to just take you growing.
Toge returned to the room with a mug of warm chocolate drink in hand, he couldn't help but notice where Yuta's gaze had fallen, his eyes momentarily lingering in the direction of Yuta's gaze; he couldn’t blame him, it was a fantastic sight.
Sensing the possessive undertones hidden in Yutas demeanor, he discreetly kicked Yuta's foot, a silent reminder to maintain their shared determination and goal. With a gentle smile, Toge approached you, his voice soft yet tinged with an unsettling intensity.
"We care about you, Y/N. You don't have to carry your burdens alone. Remember, we're your family, we would die protecting you-" he whispered, his eyes fixated on you as he handed you the mug.
“-we would do anything for you,” Yuta added on, truer words had never been spoken by the duo. His smile held a hint of urgency, an underlying desire to be the one to provide you with pleasure and comfort.
“Oh uh , I changed my mind about going to that party I was telling you guys about…I-i’m actually gonna go to a friend's house and cram in some studying tonight,” The lie left your mouth so easily but the aftertaste was sour, guilt prickling at your stomach.
In all honesty, you wanted to go see Satoru. Despite the age gap, the two of you actually conversed well, he was really funny, and the both of you had stuff in common.
His lips also tasted really good, they also did an equally good job of keeping your mind off the two boys back at your shared house when your thoughts turned lewd , thinking of how the sex between the three of you would be, how it would be to be both on their girlfriends, to take the both of them simultaneously.
Truthfully you watched porn a lot , not for arousal but simply to study it, you were basically a virgin, having never gone further than oral. If the moment ever arose, you wanted to be perfect, to be their dream girl.
A cringe brushed your expression as you felt a shiver run down your spine, you so badly wanted to run away after brewing yourself a mixture of apprehension and unease. The last thing you wanted to do was be a horny spazz and creep them out.
The warmth of the drink enveloped you, but the intensity of their gaze lingered, creating an unspoken tension that you couldn't ignore. It was as if they saw through your facade, knowing the truth that lay beneath your lies.
You continued to take sips of the drink, wondering to yourself why this one's consistency felt off. Their eyes never faltered from your body, their unwavering attention a constant reminder of their affection and precise attention, you were used to it by now but it started feeling dangerous to indulge for so long.
The atmosphere became suffocating, the boundaries of friendship blurring into something darker and more complex. When you lied you had a very clear tell ; wiggling your toes, and thats exactly what you were doing on display for them both.
Both of them were in an amount of shock at how the lie slipped effortlessly from your lips, and both Yuta and Toge saw through it. Their expressions tightened, their smiles masking a possessive determination that sent a chill down your spine.
They knew you were deceiving them, and their obsession with you only grew stronger. Was the fly trying to become the spider?
As the conversation continued for the next 15 minutes, Toge and Yuta's questions became more probing, their determination to uncover the truth palpable. It felt as if they were interrogating you and the heat sure was on. You spit out lie after lie, weaving a web of deception only to end up caught in it yourself.
It was beginning to wrap around and compress you, and as you went to prop yourself up you noticed your arms felt like jelly, your strength had diminished. Little did you know but Toge had surreptitiously added a potent anti-anxiety sleeping medicine to the hot chocolate he had prepared specially for you. The effects of the drug started to take hold, causing gradual drowsiness to wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy, and a dizzying sensation began to cloud your thoughts.
“Wh-wha’times it?” Such a simple question seemed difficult to get out of your mouth, it couldn’t even properly form. Was it already late enough for you to feel this tired? No , you knew this wasn’t natural.
Toge and Yuta were both side by side and knelt in front of you wearing devious smirks as they had front row seats to your amusing reaction.Yuta's gaze never wavered, his eyes locking with yours, his possessive determination shining through.
"You can't keep lying to us, Y/N., its not safe…besides we know what you truly desire,-" he whispered, his voice carrying a mix of concern and angst.
“-and it isn’t some middle-aged nobody.” Toge rubbed the pad of his thumb against the rim of your pink bottom lip as he chimed in, eyes tracking the finger as it brushed back and forth.
How did they know about that?! You wanted to scream, to yell at them for whatever they had orchestrated and done to you, yet all you could manage was turning your head in hopes of getting his finger away from your mouth. Yuta's smile took on a darker edge as he watched you struggle against the effects of the sleeping medicine.
"We won't let you get lost on the way to Gojos, Y/N. We'll make sure you stay right where you belong, here with us." The palm of his hand left the cheek of your ass stinging, it elicited a moan from you, one that sounded so sweet that Toge side-eyed him briefly with a knot between his brows.
Despite your growing fatigue and the fog that clouded your mind, a flicker of realization seeped through. You were caught in their web, trapped in a dangerous game of desire and obsession. The room spun around you, your body weakening as their presence engulfed you.
In the haze of your fading consciousness, you faced a critical decision; to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume you or to fight it. Yet, a small voice within you whispered of self-preservation, urging you to fight against the darkness that threatened to engulf your very being.
With a surge of determination, you pushed against the lethargy that gripped your limbs. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and adrenaline fueling your resolve. Summoning all the strength you could muster, you mustered a feeble protest.
"N-no…-" you managed to whisper, your voice strained and weak, tears were beginning to stream down your cheeks.
"-Yuta..Toge..pleeasee?."
Yuta's expression twisted with a mix of frustration and determination, his grip tightening on your arm.
"We love you the same way you love us, the way you described it in your diary, y/n. We want to do all those dirty things with you, we want you in every way. We know what's best for you." he asserted, his voice dripping with venomous lust.
Toge's eyes flickered with a mix of concern and something darker, a battle raging within him.
"We just want to protect you, y/n. Don't you understand? Just go to sleep and when you wake up we will be right here , we will give you everything you ever wanted. Your wish come true." he pleaded, his voice trembling with a hint of desperation.
The room seemed to spin around you, their voices echoing in your ears. The full meaning of their words was slowly becoming evident due to the drugs coursing through your nervous system .
You realized that your wish, your dream, the one you had wanted for so long was coming true right in front of your eyes, what you wished was at your fingertips; but it was darker and twisted. And yet your resolve was yielding, letting go of every ounce of strength to stay awake once you realized that your dreams had a single term and condition…sleep.
You have to sleep to dream .
Afterall this was your dream, right? Your wish come true.
© ModifiedUchiha 2023 ★♡Please don't copy , paste , or plagiarize my works . Feel free to use them for inspiration , but give credit .♡★
472 notes
·
View notes
yo ‘rose and the petal pushers’ is a legitimately cool band name. like it goes kinda hard ngl and i hope season two shows a little bit more of them even if it’s small background stuff like the concert ticket from s1. i just think it’d be neat
123 notes
·
View notes
Sweet Little Love.
Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Lil Angst
Warnings: brief mention of violence
Requested: nope
Summary: The Y/L/Ns are a well-off family in New York, and are good friends with Sam Wilson. One day Y/N is threatened by a stalker and needs a bodyguard, so Sam suggests Bucky. Bucky doesn't want to do it; the last thing he wants is to deal with a spoiled, bratty rich girl for a whole month. The only thing is, Bucky has terribly misjudged her and now he can't help falling in love with her.
Author's Note: Hiya peeps! the last scene is just a small bonus crack!scene sjsjsjs lmao, enjoy!
---
If there was one type of person Bucky liked, it was someone who was kind, polite, helpful and caring… and Bucky knew the person he was going to work for was going to be none of those things. "Sam, come on, man, I don't want to do this," Bucky groaned as he followed his best friend down the street. "I already promised, Bucky."
"Why did you?! I don't want to spend my whole day around spoiled little brats, they're the worst!" Bucky threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, number one: You have to look after only one person and number two: Why don't you just meet her once? Then you can decide for yourself, how about that?"
Bucky had been hired by one of Sam's friends, Mr Y/L/N, as a bodyguard for his daughter. He didn't know the daughter at all; but the one thing he was sure about was that she was going to be a pain in the ass for him, like in every single movie about rich girls and bodyguards. Mouthy, petty, sassy, rude…
He was in no mood to deal with someone like that.
Ms Y/L/N, he assumed, had been sent some threats over a week ago by a stalker and so the poor father was worried sick as he frantically searched for bodyguards. Sam was also informed and before he knew it, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes was hired. To be honest, the Y/L/Ns were paying a lot so… since he had given up Avenging, the income would be great.
Plus, she only needed protection for around a month or so. Speaking of the daughter, how old was she even going to be? Maybe a child below 10? A rebellious teenager? Who knows? "Alright, stop here. She's supposed to be here somewhere, let me call Y/L/N." Bucky huffed and looked around the crowded streets as Sam contacted the father.
That's when his eyes landed on a lady. She was beautiful; wearing what looked like a tennis skirt and a university hoodie, along with sneakers. Her hair was pulled into a braid and she had a bright smile on her face. Bucky blinked twice and watched. Her body or clothes didn't catch his attention, but her actions sure did.
She was chatting with another, older woman who had coffee spilled all over her white tee. The young lady was holding a baby in her arms, bouncing the sweet child as the older woman hurriedly tried to clean her clothes. Through his super-soldier hearing, he caught their conversation. "I'm so sorry to bother you like this," the woman sighed.
"It's okay, ma'am, you are not a bother. You were clearly in need of help and you know how New York is…" Both women giggled. The older woman soon left with her child but the young lady continued standing there, looking around, as if waiting for someone. Probably a boyfriend, Bucky thought.
"Why is he not picking up?!"
Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam before looking over at the pretty lady again, who had started bouncing back and forth on her heels, glancing everywhere. That's when a loud wail echoed above the already busy street. The lady's eyes snapped towards the voice before she took off running towards a little boy who had tripped over.
The little kid was blond and scrawny, reminding Bucky of a little Steve. He smiled fondly at the memory. "Are you hurt, bubba?" Y/N asked the kid adoringly as she helped him stand. The boy's lower lip wobbled as he tried to hold his tears in but was unsuccessful. "Aw, come here…" Bucky gulped when the lady got on her knees and hugged the child.
She's so kind.
The kid hugged back just as eagerly, sobbing into her shoulder. Soon, two adults approached her; a gay couple, the parents of the kid. They, too, watched with appreciation as the lady easily calmed the kid down with her soothing presence. An involuntary smile bloomed on Bucky's face; if he was in that kid's position, he'd have stopped crying too. The lady was wonderful.
"Thank you so much, honey," one of the men grinned when the lady stood up, dusting her knees and giving the kid a smile. "Oh, it's not a problem! You know what?" She dug around in her purse and pulled out a lollipop. "I always have some on me. I'm a big fan. You?" The boy giggled and eagerly accepted the candy.
"Steve, what do you say?"
Bucky almost laughed. The kid's name was also Steve? Amazing! "Thank you!" Steve exclaimed with a bright smile, making the lady laugh. "No problem! Have a good day!" She waved at the family of three before returning to her original place, standing outside a café. Bucky was enamored at this point.
"Any luck?" he drawled, glancing at Sam who shook his head. "That dick," he grumbled under his breath and Bucky grinned, getting back to watching the pretty lady but she was nowhere to be found. He looked around until he saw her crossing the road, an old man holding her arm with one hand as the other held his walking cane.
She was on his side of the street now, just a few feet away from him. "You are an angel, darling," the old man crooned as he patted her cheek, letting go of her arm once he was safely on the other side. An angel indeed, Bucky smiled to himself. "Oh, sir, I try…" she spoke bashfully, turning in his direction as the man left.
Bucky quickly averted his gaze, he didn't want to look like a creep. "Sam? Sam, is that you? Wilson!" Bucky froze at the lady's voice, her footsteps nearing the place where he and Sam were standing. Wait, is that...? Sam looked away from his phone, eyes lighting up as they landed on the lady. "Y/N? When did you arrive?" Bucky watched as they hugged.
"Been here for a long time, dad said you were going to introduce me to my bodyguard today. He's a good friend of yours, right?" Sam turned and motioned towards Bucky. He stepped forward. "Hi, I'm James Barnes," he introduced himself, holding his hand out. He couldn't believe he had called this angel a spoiled, rich brat.
I'm never gonna forgive myself.
"James, nice to meet you! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Thanks for doing this, I'm probably going to be a burden—" He immediately shook his head. "Oh, no no no, don't say that! I can tell we're going to be good friends." He winked and she couldn't help but giggle. Bucky didn't even correct her on the name, something about the way she said it made a shiver run down his spine.
"Well, um, do we start now, or…?"
"Your choice," he interrupted, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat as he stared at her, heart swelling with affection. "I already feel safe," she half-joked, "Start now. I have a few places to go to…" He was ready to follow her to Hell and back. "Of course." Both of them turned to Sam, who had a knowing smirk on his face.
If it were anyone else Bucky would've given him his infamous glare but Y/N? He was hoping for a connection. "You two enjoy your date— I mean, day. Anyway, what's up with your dad, girl, he's not picking up my calls." Bucky rolled his eyes at the slip up. "He's not? Maybe he's in a meeting. If you want you can go visit."
"Gonna do just that, tell him that his precious little daughter is in safe hands." Y/N looked at Bucky with a huge smile. "No doubt about that! It's getting late, I'll see you later!" Y/N started walking away and Bucky immediately followed with a nod towards Sam. "Hey, um, I saw you, you know?" he blurted out.
"Saw me? Doing what?" Y/N blinked. "You helping the lady with the child, the kid who tripped over— Steve, his name was? And the old man you helped cross the street. I just wanna say that was amazing. You're a great person, Y/N, I'm honored to be your bodyguard." She gasped softly and looked away, chewing her bottom lip as she grinned, cheeks heating up.
"Oh, um, it's just— I like to help people. It's how my parents raised me. Yeah, we might be rich but I'm not spoiled. Lots of people think that when I tell them I'm Mr Y/L/N's daughter. It hurts sometimes, you know? People just assume anything about you without even knowing you. That's why I try to be good. I don't want to be a bad person," she rushed out, unconsciously voicing all her insecurities.
Bucky's heart sank in his chest as he let out a dry chuckle. "Ugh, just saying this is gonna make me throw up but I assumed that too. I thought I was gonna work with a spoiled, rich brat. I was horribly, horribly wrong, I hope you can forgive me, doll." She turned to him, but she wasn't mad in the slightest. She even started getting a tiny crush on him, I mean, hey, the man is eye-candy. "It's fine! I forgive you, you didn't know."
"No, it's not fine. I shouldn't have made assumptions, I feel like the biggest ass in the world," he scoffed, looking away from her. "James, please, it's okay. You know now, right? Don't feel bad! Why don't we stop for a coffee on the way?" How could he say no to that?
---
2 weeks passed. Y/N and Bucky became incredibly close friends; Bucky went as far as revealing the truth about himself, how he used to be an Avenger, how he lost his arm, everything. What he didn't expect was her to cry at his story. "You did not deserve to go through that, they did you so dirty…" she sniffled and he hugged her like his life depended on it. It kinda did.
God, if he didn't fall in love the first time they met, he was definitely in love now. "Doll, I'm here now, aren't I? All good— well, maybe not all good." And his face broke into the biggest grin ever when he heard a chuckle from her. "I'm glad you're here." Just those 4 words and Bucky vowed that he was never gonna let her go.
"I'm getting coffee, you wait here. Don't go anywhere else."
"Aye aye, Captain!" Y/N laughed and he smiled back as he entered the café. Y/N stood outside, typing away on her phone when someone suddenly grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulling her into the alley next to the café. She couldn't even scream, breathing was difficult with his hand around her neck.
"We finally meet, sweetheart." Oh, God, it was him. The stalker. Y/N whimpered, struggling to get out of his arms but he only tightened his hold on her. Bucky, Bucky please— Over time, Y/N had grown fond of Bucky. He still asked her to call him James, he said it felt good when she called him that. So she did.
He was so protective of her, almost like she was his girlfriend. He was also handsome; incredibly so, with his stormy blue eyes, his tall and broad figure and razor sharp jaw. His first priority was always her and it made her warm inside. She'd decided to ask him out at the end of the month, but it was looking a bit difficult now.
"Your bodyguard not with you today? What happened, lover's quarrel?" the man smirked tauntingly as Y/N's vision blurred due to lack of oxygen. She blinked back tears, crying again when he tightened his hold on her neck. "Scream all you want, sweetheart, no one's gonna hear it," he laughed.
"Try me."
The man's head whipped to the side only for Bucky's metal fist to connect with his jaw. He fell to the ground with a thud, unconscious at the first punch. Y/N slid down to her knees. Her hands went to her neck, coughing and dry heaving. "Doll? Doll, come here." Bucky felt immense guilt as he gathered her in his arms, carrying her bridal style towards his car.
He left her alone. That was the one thing he wasn't supposed to do. "James…" Y/N wheezed, curling closer to him when he tried to put her in the backseat. "Doll, you have to get in," he insisted but she shook her head. "Not without you. Please." Bucky sighed and got into the backseat, holding Y/N against his chest.
She was pretty shaken up. "I'm so sorry, Y/N." He felt himself tearing up. "No… not your fault… you… coffee… I wasn't… phone…" Bucky handed her a bottle of water when she wheezed again. "Drink up, baby," he whispered as he held the bottle to her lips because she refused to let go of his sweater. After drinking some water her throat felt better.
"Don't go, please, I need you," she sobbed as she completely curled against him, wetting his sweater as she cried in his arms. "You will always have me, doll. I'm not going anywhere. Not again," he assured her as he rubbed her back, wiping his own tears away. All of a sudden, she pulled away and pressed her lips to his. "I love you."
He pulled her in for another kiss, fireworks exploding in his head at the confession. Only two weeks had passed but they were both sure about their feelings. "I love you too, doll. You're mine now, only mine," he groaned against her lips. "Only yours," she agreed, burying her face back in his shoulder as he pulled her impossibly close.
"You're not getting out of my sight ever again."
And he kept his promise.
---
"And then I— where do you think you're going?" Sam blinked as Bucky abruptly stood up, eyes trained on his wife. She gave him a smile and walked out of the room, Bucky following her out like a puppy. "To the bathroom, Sam!" Y/N called out behind her and Sam turned to the parents, blinking in confusion as they roared with laughter.
"Why does she need him there?" Sam asked "Oh, haven't you heard? Bucky hasn't broken the promise he gave Y/N 6 years ago," Mrs Y/L/N explained vaguely. "What promise?" Mr Y/L/N laughed once more. "He told her she was never getting out of sight after the incident. And well…" Y/N and Bucky returned at the exact time as Sam made a face.
"Don't you get tired of him?" Sam groaned as Bucky sat down, pulling his wife on his lap. "Oh no no, it helps that she's as much in love with him as he is with her. They do not get tired of each other," Mrs Y/L/N shook her head with a fond smile. "It helps that he's handsome and aesthetically pleasing to look at," Y/N crooned, squishing her husband's cheeks as he laughed and swatted her hands away.
"Even in the bathroom?!"
"He stands outside as a guard," she shrugged. "Damn. Y'all are weird," Sam muttered, barely catching the book Bucky threw towards him. "Not weird. Just looking out for her, like I promised," he muttered, cheeks flushing. "You do know that the threat was 6 years ago, right? Six!" Sam threw his hands up.
"What if there's a new one?" Bucky countered exasperatedly. Sam only shook his head at the couple before a smile broke out on his face. "I've never seen a couple so in love. You two are cute," he commented as laughter filled the room. No more threats, no more danger.
Just a sweet little family and their sweet little love.
---
A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!
562 notes
·
View notes
A Period Drama
Summary: When that time of the month hits, Y/n wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget about the world. Lucky for her, Dean has other plans.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 2.1K+
Warnings: Language, discussion of menstrual cycle
Author’s Note: I guess I'm emotional this cycle, who knew? Anyway, I wrote this because I wanted to die the other day, and imagining Dean's cuddles was the only way for me to get through it. This is a work of self-indulgence and therefore the Reader is a little less non-descript than I usually try to write, but that's what these things are for! Hope this helps my fellow menstruating people lie it did me xoxo Alex
Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!
A nagging sensation tugged on her strings of consciousness, bringing the sleeping huntress back to the world of the living. Her mind fought against waking, knowing not nearly enough time had passed since she had retreated to her room the previous evening. As the ache deep in her abdomen became more obvious, she stopped fighting and opened her eyes to the darkness of her room.
“Fuck,” she groaned as she tossed the covers from her body, instantly missing the heat they provided in the recess of the bunker. Y/n rolled from the bed and stood, the action occurring too quickly and the huntress felt the familiar rush between her legs. She cursed herself as she bounded off to the bathroom on the opposite end of the hallway. The socks on her feet muffled her hurried steps as she passed the boys’ rooms.
Once inside, she went straight for the showers and turned the hot water all the way up. Steam enveloped the space as she stripped her soiled panties and old t-shirt from her body. She let the bathroom turn into a makeshift sauna as she rinsed the blood from her undergarments before finally stepping into the boiling shower.
It was unclear how long she stood under the water, searing her flesh and scrubbing away the metaphorical grime, all she knew was the relentless heat was managing to ease the ache from her angry uterus. The tentative knock on the bathroom door snapped her back from the silent reverie she had been indulging in, and Y/n noted how the water had gone almost cold. It was likely she had been in there long enough for Sam to have taken his morning run and if her own body wasn’t attacking itself, she might have felt guilty about using up all the bunker’s hot water.
When she walked out in just a towel, her dirty pajamas rolled into a ball in her arms, she was met with a confused younger Winchester. All she could mutter was a weak ‘sorry’ before she breezed past him and back to her room. The huntress wrapped herself into a pair of sweats and a clean tee, braided her hair out of her face, swallowed a few pain killers, and crawled back under her covers. She thanked whatever higher power had made sure they were hunt-free for the foreseeable future so she could spend the day curled up in a ball. The pills kicked in quick enough to allow her to easily slip back into a blissful sleep.
****
It was nearing one in the afternoon when Dean made his way back inside the bunker, his hands covered in grease and oil from his work tuning up the Impala. He was wiping his hands on an equally dirty towel as he walked into the kitchen to find his little brother making himself a lunch.
“Please tell me that is not your veggie bacon?” Dean wrinkled his nose as he watched Sam putting together a BLT, the various ingredients strewn about the island.
“Fine, then I won’t tell you,” Sam didn’t bother to look up from his task to answer his brother. The look of disgust only depended on Dean’s face as he moved around his sibling to wash his hands in the sink.
The older hunter glanced over his shoulder as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder, his gaze landing on a disheveled Y/n. The sweats that hung from her body were wrinkled and she had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. There were lines across the left side of her face, indicating she had been sleeping recently. Worry instantly flooded his system as it was unlike their hunting partner to sleep this late unless she was ill.
“Sam, what did you do with my heating pad?” her voice was coarse as she didn’t even bother with pleasantries. No ‘hello’, no ‘ how are you’, just straight to whatever business she had in with the younger Winchester.
“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s in the linen closet in the bathroom?” Sam answered, completely unperturbed by her callousness.
“So you put my heating pad in the bathroom,” Y/n rolled her eyes and Sam could only offer her a bewildered nod. “What is with you guys and not being able to put shit back where you found it?” The huntress turned on her heel, not waiting for a response before heading to retrieve the item she was seeking.
Sam looked over his shoulder at his older brother, his brows knit together in the middle of his forehead. “What the hell was that?”
“What’s the one thing Y/n uses her heating pad for?” Dean’s lips cured up on one side as he watched the look of realization flash across his brother’s features. The oldest Winchester dried his hands before peeking in the fridge and a few cupboards. “Looks like she could use a supply run. You need anything?”
“Nah, I’m just going to retreat to my room and pretend like I don’t exist for the rest of the day,” Sam picked up the plate that held his lunch and scurried off, leaving a chuckling Dean behind.
****
The only light filling her room came from the laptop that was perched in her lap, playing some television show she had stopped paying attention to a while ago, and the filtered light from the hall through the slats in her door. The huntress was still curled into a ball under her covers, attempting to use what little bit of heat from her computer she could muster as she had been unsuccessful in located her heating pad. She felt bad for ripping into Sam about it, but the truth was he had misplaced her belongings, something that she found happened often around the Winchesters, and she was over it today. Pain tended to make her grumpy, as it did most people, and she wasn’t going to apologize for being pissed at their carelessness.
A soft rapping against her door had her pausing the show as she shoved the device aside. The guest didn’t wait for a response before they pushed the door open, bringing with them a flood of light. Y/n cringed at the sudden change, hiding her face behind her hand.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Dean’s familiar chuckle sounded before the click of the latch indicated he had closed the door behind him. “I come bearing gifts.”
“What?” she was confused by his words as she dropped her hand and allowed her eyes to adjust back to the relative darkness.
“Your water bottle, half ice, half water,” he set the green canteen on her bedside table. “The heating pad Sammy somehow managed to lose behind the washing machine,” Dean handed her the light green pad folded neatly with the cord sitting on top. Y/n sighed a breath of relief as the eldest Winchester continued. “And a sharable size bag of dark chocolate peanut M&M’s.”
“Dean,” Y/n caught the purple bag as he tossed it her way, biting back a gleeful moan. “I fucking love you.” She unceremoniously tore into the bag and popped a couple of the chocolate candies into her mouth, missing the rush of blood on the Winchester’s cheeks.
“And finally,” he mimicked a drum roll with his mouth and procured a box from his arms, placing it on her bedside table. The woman frowned, unable to make out the object at first in the darkness.
“You bought me tampons? How,” she trailed off, not only awestruck by the hunter’s gesture but amazed at his attention to detail as she read the label.
“There is only one thing you need your heating pad for,” he remarked as he took the referenced object back to plug it into an outlet for her. “Also, you never snap at Sammy.”
“But how did you know what kind to buy?”
“Kind of hard not to when you have a box of them stashed away in Baby’s trunk,” Dean countered as he perched himself on the edge of her bed.
“Hey, those are for emergencies. Besides, I’m sure Baby understands.”
“I’m sure she does.”
Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek as she fiddled with the bag of candy in her lap, the kindness shown by Dean throwing her off. She offered the open bag to her hunting partner, who snatched a handful for himself with a grin.
“Thank you, Dean, seriously. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” her voice was low as the admittance slipped past her lips. “Want to watch some Scooby-Doo with me? You know, if you aren’t busy or anything?”
“I’d love to, sweetheart,” Dean winked at her, that shit-eating grin never leaving his face even as he stood and shucked off his jacket and boots so he could climb into the bed next to her. “Who could pass up Daphne?”
The huntress sat back against the headboard with a roll of her eyes and switched the streaming show on her laptop before unfolding her already warmed heating pad and laid it across her lower abdomen. She moved the laptop at the end of the bed so they could both see it and set the bag of M&M’s between her and Dean to share.
The two settled into the cartoon, laughing in unison at the ridiculous parts and commenting on how the Scooby gang couldn’t have handled that monster had it been real. Three episodes passed by before a shredding cramp ripped through her stomach, the shock of it enough that she was unable to hide the groan as she had been so far.
“You okay?” Dean shifted in his spot next to her, his head turning from the kids’ show to his friend beside him.
“No, I’m not okay. It feels like my internal organs are attempting to exit my body,” she snapped, instantly regretting it when Dean subtly recoiled. “Shit, I’m sorry. I--I didn’t mean…” Y/n was cut off as the pain returned just as intense as it had been moments ago, causing her to roll onto her side and into a ball, clutching the heat of the pad against her body like a lifeline.
“Alright,” Dean huffed before moving the candy and laptop from the bed. Y/n could hear the hunter shift behind her, but her eyes were clamped shut as she tried to breathe through the pain like she was experiencing the contractions of labor of something. She felt the hard lines of his body lock around the curves of her own and his arm snake around her abdomen. His hand rested over hers as he pulled her tight against him, putting more pressure than she had been able to muster against her lower belly. “I’ve got you.”
The heat of his body on one side and the pad against her stomach, combined with the force he was exerting on her uterus, finally allowed her to relax fully for the first time since she had awoken that morning. She never wanted to leave this moment, utterly content in the peace that his presence in her bed brought her. The idea scared her a little, but she figured that was a problem for another day. Now she chose to just live in this moment for as long as he would let her.
“Why?” she muttered into the dark space after she was sure he had fallen asleep as his grip had relented a touch and his breathing evened out, hoping he wouldn’t answer but knowing she had to ask.
“Cause I wanted to,” his voice was gruff, indicating he had probably been on the cusp of falling asleep when she spoke up. “I hate seeing you like this. Figured it was the least I could do.”
“Dean Winchester, are you going soft on me?” she quirked up one corner of her lips, unable to fight the giddiness his words instilled in her chest.
“Sweetheart, there is nothing soft about me when I’m around you,” he chuckled, earning himself an elbow to the gut. He grunted and the two of them fell into a fit of laughter.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” The hunter was ready for her arm this time, his hand moving to wrap around her forearm and pull it into him so as to trap her even tighter than before in his embrace. Y/n struggled against his hold, giggling like an idiot as the two wrestled in the bed a moment before she relented that he was much stronger than she.
“Honestly,” Dean placed a gentle kiss to her shoulder once she had settled, only encouraging her to melt further into his arms. “I’d do anything to make you smile, Y/n.”
“Well, then mission accomplished, Winchester,” she turned her head to flash him a genuine smile to which he reciprocated before planting his pillow-soft lips against hers.
P.S. I didn't even try on this title because this is just a little therapy piece and therefore no one should judge me.
Forevers: @22sarah08 @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @anathewierdo @asgoodasdancingqueen @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deangirl93 @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @lunarmoon8 @lyarr24 @mishacollins4evah @miss-nerd95 @mrsjenniferwinchester @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93 @sleepylunarwolf @squirrelnotsam @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @suckmyapplejacks @supraveng @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @traceyaudette @tranquility-or-chaos @waywardbeanie @winchest09
396 notes
·
View notes
Date Night: WWE Edition
Featuring men that I simp for because yes.
Drew McIntyre
I feel like Drew would take you out for a nice dinner, I could see him eating Italian for a date
He’d wear a dark blue button up and black slacks, with black dress shoes to match
Drew with a manbun because y e s.
Overall, he’s lookin like a c h a d.
He’d try to be a gentleman in every way possible. The classic ‘Hold open the door’ and ‘Order the food for them’ type thing.
His charm really shines through when it’s just the two of you
Calling you pet names and seeing what makes you giggle (Or blush)
Holding your hand and giving it small squeezes every now and then
He tells you small stories about himself, cracking jokes and drawing you in more and more.
He’s hooked on every word you say. He finds your life amazing.
He’s making no efforts to hide his heart eyes. He’s going to spoil you on a date night, and he’ll absolutely adore you.
Roman Reigns
Well well well, what’s this? The tribal chief going soft on you? That means he’s falling BAD.
Romans date would take place in a penthouse.
He’d send Paul to go and pick you up, since he doesn’t want you going to his place in a dirty cab. You deserve better. So expect a Rolls Royce.
Roman wearing an all black look. Black button up tee, some black jeans, and a pair of black dress shoes. Basic, but still nice!
You can thank Jimmy and Jey for making dinner, and boy did Roman make sure that they didn’t fuck it up.
And they definitely followed through.
In the voice of Gordon Ramsay: Beautiful steak, perfect color, perfectly seasoned. Beautiful.
Roman wants you as part of the Bloodline, and he’ll persuade you in every way he can.
Rick Boogs
Boogs want to make sure that you have a good time, so his idea for a date is a carnival! Think Santa Monica pier type beat.
No, he doesn’t care if he’s already spent $20 on this fair game, he’s getting you that giant teddy bear like his life depends on it.
Sugar overload. He’s getting funnel cakes, cotton candy, ice cream, this man is going to consume every sugary item they have.
And of course he’s going to share it with you because yes he will.
Pulls the ‘Fake yawn as I put my arm over your shoulders’ move on the ferris wheel
Big stupid dumb grin on his face. It’s adorable.
He’d serenade you as you guys sat at the top of the wheel. Beautiful view requires a cheesy love song to go with it, right?
Speaking of cheesy: He loves terrible pick up lines that you both laugh at because of how ridiculous they are.
Boogs is an energetic sweetheart, and he’s all yours
Xavier Woods
ARCADE DATE, BAY-BEEEEEE
Xavier would take you to a dave and Busters type place. Food and games are his beat.
He’s great at games that require hand-eye coordination. After all, it’s kinda his job to be fast with his moves.
Makes gaming references and his eyes light up when you actually understand them
Enjoys seeing you have fun while you’re playing. Your smile makes him smile even harder.
Likes seeing how competitive you can be when playing against him.
Uses all the tickets he earns to get you something cool. Maybe a pack of LED lights or whatever the fuck they got at Dave and Busters.
Loves it when you joke around and just have no cares in the world. Free spirit is what he’s all about.
Cesaro
I think Cesaro would take you to a nice cafe to get some drinks.
Tea, coffee, maybe even an espresso. You want it, he’ll provide.
Don’t forget the pastries :D
Great with small talk. He’ll spill to you if you’ll allow him to. And he loves hearing you talk about anything. Whether it’s your life, your interests, your taste in music, whatever it is, he’ll find intriguing.
Calls you pet names in any of the 5 languages he speaks.
He likes seeing you at peace. If you’re stressed, he’d do anything to make it melt away. You deserve to have peace of mind.
He’s just a big ol’ softie for you!
John Morrison
Welcome to Casa El Jomo (That’s French for front door (No it’s not))
John took the liberty of ordering take out for the both of you
Get comfy, because you two are having a night in!
Wraps you up in blankets, and makes sure that you’re nice and warm
(He may have turned up the AC just so he could do that)
Cuddles for days. He’s a great cuddler, I can feel it in my bones
He puts on a movie that the two of you agreed on, and there’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you just enjoy your food.
If you start to fall asleep, expect him to hold you closer to him. He wants to make sure that you’re extra toasty.
He’s a soft dork that likes cuddles. It’s great!
Send stuff into my inbox if you want more!
107 notes
·
View notes
Request: Could u do one where y/n is a stripper but her and Harry are already together. So Harry and his friends all know y/n works at the strip club because she’s Harry girl and they all go up there and she gives him a lap dance?? Idk I just need something dirty😂✋🏽
Disclaimer: Public infatuation, spitting and teasing.
//
Do you ever see shit crumbling down infront of your eyes and said, "fuck it." before taking the step that could have a ominous impact on your life? Perhaps Y/N did the same. When she couldn't pay for her UNI she started working at a club as a waitress, scrubbing the awful stickiness of beers and alchol wasn't a nightmare for her at least.
She always admired the girls outdoing themselves on stage, something so fascinating about having men on the tip of their shoes and emptying their pockets just to have a watch of mere skin.
One night when the clock striked past 2 am and the club had barely three people her friend ushered her on the stage, it wasn't sexy and eroticaly mind blogging. She was trying to have fun (she's very socially akward and have a stage phobia). Rather, cute as she danced in her pink skirts and showy apron not caring when her headband slid down as she spinned around the pole with loud giggles.
What took her gasp away was a beautiful man sitting in the corner dimmed away from the bashing lights of the room. Hand adorned in gems and jewels wrapped around the crystal glass of beer as he sat man-spreading in a black suit, a white shirt underneath that gives the glimpse of his tattoos and an evident smirk of ferver for her that made her tummy scorch.
"Y/N!" The bartender shouted for her, "Take this order for the table 22, quick." She tumbles down two stairs hastily and it takes out a chuckle from his lips, his eyes following her constantly. The glass of another bevy is for none other than the man with emarld eyes and chocolate curls.
She approaches him with a bicker between her mind and heart to shut the fuck up, as she slides the glass infront of him without glancing up at him.
"Y'dance gorgeously." His voice sultry and so so supple she couldn't belive it came out from him. "Uhm thank you . . . but 'm not what you're thinking 'm." She fumbles with her apron back treating slowly and he raises his brows not in amusement but in acknowledgement puffering out his bottom red lip she oh so gonna think about whole night.
"Doesn't matter, eh." She nods, "like somethin' else?" Her smile. Harry think her smile lit up his previous grumpy mood and his eyes falls over her shoes, he didn't like that they were literally about to thread into patches.
"Nope. Jus' headin' out, take care, love." Fuck him. There's no way she wouldn't imagine about him, being there in her dainty loft.
He left a bunch of cash as her tip and it made her all blushy.
//
Their next encounter was rather funny. Bumping into eachother at a grocery shop and her collection of junk food, cans of sweet sodas and candies went flying infront of him making her feel giddy that what he'd think about him? A child of five ready to go back to school?
His apologies were cut short when he sees it's her and his eyes went glowy. She's completely a different person when not under the blazing lights, so soft and clean wearing a cream coloured sweater, curdoury lilac pants and spectacles perched atop her bunny nose.
Him in a rolling stones tee and slacks.
"Y'alright, there?" He asks her with a brush to her elbow and she nods, "oh, Mr. Gucci pants?" That was the point where their love story started not a clićhe one but Harry's head over heels for her to this day. She calls him Gucci pants to annoy him cause his trousers that had a visible gucci label on the hem of them.
Then after few months of them hanging out and their first kiss she got to know that he's the owner of the club she fucking works at. She didn't know what to do, is that okay to date something out of your status and league? Even boss? She ghosted him for weeks and realized that how much she missed him. His thoughts didn't seem to leave her mind at all, his lips and kisses.
They've a most healthy relationship, he doesn't stop her from working at club as a waitress neither does he feels remorseful when she gets angry for paying her extra replying with cheekiness, "can't wait to have our bank accounts together, i like to give y'me lovin' sweet bug."
Their sex life's a proper satisfaction for both of them, Harry's such a caring domineering to her and it makes her cry sometimes when she floats into her sub-space. She loves to have him inside her after rough nights and to have sex in the morning getting sticky due to him hardening while still inside her.
She's public shy so they never try anything outside (harry respects her boundaries and gives her space whenever she needs some) but giving him a blowjob in his car doesn't seem that scary, does it? And the fact she loves to keep him warm and wet in her mouth everytime. He exposed her to the world of sex toys and how to use them, she was hesitant in the start but now loves to play with herself while he caresses his cock infront of her.
She hates being tied up! Always wants to touch him and feel his velvety skin. He ties up when she's being a bad puppy.
She loves when he fucks her from behind on her knees studying and sometimes she likes him harsh too, to be pounded raw, it makes her panties soak with yearn to have him.
But, in general he's all pet names and kisses. Gifting her silks and making her matchas. Cuddles and hugs from behind. Though, he likes to be a small spoon with his face tucked between her squishy tits and likes to have back rubs by her when the work gets a load on him.
Today though she'd like to come out of her cocoon and do something bold to show him that she wanna put the same effort to turn him on as he does. She doesn't know that her only presence stiffens his dick.
Harry was along his friends in his usual spot away from the bustling crowd when the patter of heels distracted them making their heads perk up, "would you guys like something?" She asks them and Nialler who's already miffed bad hiccups, "another bevy fo' me." She rolls her eyes at him sticking her tongue out.
"Then fetch one for yourself." While they bickered Harry admired his girl. The curve of her peach and her fleshy thighs, the stocking she's wearing doing nothing to satiate his burn to fuck her right now on these tables infront of everyone. "Anddd what'd you like to 've, Sir." She dips her knee between his thighs near his crotch whispering sultry-ly in his ear and pressing her wet lips against his earlobe on purpose.
"You." He smiles bashfully running his hands under her skirt and thighs giving it lil smack making her squeal softly, "'m all yours to take." She smooches a kiss to his mouth and presses her panties clad cunt against his man-spread moaning subtly when he groped her ass to assist her in humping him.
"Get a room you guys!!" Their friends hollered and Harry was quick to take Y/N's hand leading her to a private room, "On the sofa legs spread fo' me." She doesn't listen to him and pushes him down instead crawling up his lap.
"No." She tries to use the most intimidating voice, "what? You sound like a kitten, baby." He teases her letting his fingers linger over her garter and she hisses when he snaps it. She pins his wrists between them telling him grumpy-ly, "I - said - no." Her neck stretches giving Harry more skin to plant kisses as she brought his hand to cup them against her pussy.
"Wanna fuck me 'n d'the dirty work yourself? Go on then." He murmures grazing her collarbones with his teeth and palms her chest, stroking the perked nipple again and again to make her wet than she already's. Except of undressing him herself she orders him because she's too far gone to do anything other than have his cock pounding inside her, "Undress." When he does so she wraps her hand around his huge prick and taps his cherry lips with her fingers.
Pulling at his foreskin for some time and coating it perfectly with his own pre-come she sides her panties with shaky fingers and sinks down on him completely, she loves this position. In this way he feels too big inside her, deep to her tummy and could embrace eachother cosily.
"This's what you wanted? To fuck yourself with me prick, to keep it forever inside you?" He grabs her from sides helping her ride him and she hugs his shoulders whimpering with each languid stroke of his thickness against her spongy walls, "yes, yes, yes." His balls slaps against her bum and she squeezes around him with a cry.
He tuts in a mean voice, "Look how 've turned me sweet innocent Y/N into a filthy girl whose cunt's always drippin' with me cum." Her hairline beads with sweat and she muffles her moans by bitting him, he yanks her.
"Let everybody listen how hard ye're bein' pounded." He growls spanking her ass to a plump redness, groping her asscheeks to push harder and it makes her squirt around him.
"More, more, please more." She says in a soft hoarseness thighs quaking around his waist from exhaustion and he chuckles kissing her temple rolling her sensitive clit with the pad of thumb to make her cum, "oh! Harry — " This time she moans without holding back and when she doesn't stop moving Harry takes the hint.
"Bug you're gettin' tired." He flips them. Pressing her thigh against the back of couch with a tight grip of his hands around, so tight it'll leave imprints. Looking down a whimper slips from his throat at the sight of her widely spread for him and her pussy lips wrapped around his rock hard cock, though the sofa is already ruined with their wetness he spits where they're connected.
The dirty, sloppy wet noises of them turns him on so bad and he laps at her nipples like a kitten would do drilling inside her vigorously it makes her gasp in pleasure, moan and cry his name.
She rakes her nails down his spine when he grinds down at her in rough circles, "I'm gonna cum." She cries out cramping around him and their bones rattles with each pound she receives from him.
"Come fo' me darlin', gonna count to three — " He caresses her jaw, kissing her again and again face expression bundling up with the wave of pleasure that's about fluid over him as she thrashes under him, head on the sofa and torso stretching out, "fuck, fuck, fuck." He mutters unloading inside of her in sticky white ribbons that spill out of her because he came alot.
Taking a breather they untangle themselves a little and she whispers snuggling into his neck, "might think we could crash at this sofa tonight." Wrapping her calves around him like a koala.
"But, 'm hungry too." She giggles when her stomach grugled angrily.
"Let's clean up and get fish 'n chips from the next shop." He pets her head.
"Amazing!" She chirps.
//
350 notes
·
View notes
light up the dark [VI] - leo x reader
genre: mid adventure domestic fluff overture, romance, smutty lemony bit towards the end
word count: 3k
pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader
requested: very much so, yes
warnings: magic manipulation powers, feelings are hard and weird and scary, some innuendos, the phrase hot gusher out of context, the word dirty talk, trying to "proposition [someone] in front of two for one cookie crisp", brief credit card theft, jason thinks ketchup is spicy and gets clowned on for it, one use of the word lube in reference to mechanical lubricant, shirtless leo remember that one piece of shirtless leo viria art?????? remember the caption?????, your facade is beginning to crack, deadpan joke about being dead in space, making out, whole lotta sexual tension, brief mention of a boner, teeny tiny bit of grinding, getting interrupted, c*lypso
summary: after an extensive shopping trip, you, Leo, and Jason settle into your airbnb and wait for the others to arrive. Jason takes a nap, and Leo helps you dye your hair. You return the favor by helping him make dinner which leads to two things; a well timed boner, and a poorly timed visitor.
listen to: power and control - marina, 100 bad days - ajr, all I ask - adele
a/n: let's play spot the zack and cody reference within the first paragraph
also surprise the series isn't dead!! a shock to all but mostly me!!
as with all smexy smutty nsfw content, all characters are aged up to 18+
Standing in front of a wall of hair dye taller than you are should have been exciting. It would have been, except for the fact that all the colors were various shades of honey mist auburn. You really don’t want to have to make a separate trip to a beauty store for hair dye. Your eyes land on a firetruck red box, and gratefully, you realize you won’t have to.
“Perfect,” you muse, throwing it into your cart, along with the other stuff on the list you’d divided between you. You grab a few other things from the beauty section while you’re there; some makeup, eyeliner, a glass nail file, and a tiny pair of oil slick cuticle scissors.
Nearby is a guy a little older than you in a varsity hoodie and sweatpants squinting at a two in one shampoo label.
Perfect, you think, beginning to approach. You work your magic - literally - and within a few minutes you have his credit card. It takes way less time than it used to. You also didn’t have to smile and flirt nearly as much as you used to. You’re relieved that you don’t have to fake enthusiasm around rich douchebags the way you used to, and a new inky drop of fear begins to stain the corners of your mind. You can’t even bear to admit it to yourself, but you’re kind of scared. Before you can begin to question if you know what love is and if you’re capable of experiencing it without the influence of your divine heritage, you shove it all away. Not the place, not the time. You speed up a little, passing an endcap of candy, and knock a box into your cart.
On the other side of the store, Jason checks off items from their half of the list as Leo tosses items in the cart, talking along the way. Of course, you came up in conversation rather quickly.
“She’s… a real piece of work.” Jason says, treading lightly.
“You said it, man,” Leo agrees, sliding a pack of coke onto the bottom of the cart. Jason thinks for a moment before continuing.
“She seems to,” he tries to figure out how to phrase their dynamic, “not hate you as much as everyone else.” Leo laughs at the accuracy of the statement. He can tell Jason has something else to say, so he’s quiet while putting paper plates and napkins into the cart.
“Hey, Leo?”
“Yeah?”
“Just… don’t let her hurt you, okay?”
He stops for a second. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Jason, one that will genuinely look out for him, but sometimes people caring for him still catches him off guard. Really off guard. With no idea how to begin to verbalize that complicated mess, he takes a split second to collect himself.
“Thanks, man.”
His smile is sincere.
Don’t let her hurt you. Can he just do that? Not let someone hurt him? Especially someone like you. He’s only had a few long term crushes before, all just out of reach and only getting further away. Only one had amounted to something - not that he could call what he had with Calypso ‘something’. She certainly wouldn’t. He looks around, trying to shake off the sting. He starts to get that unsettled, itchy feeling when he focuses on stuff like that for too long.
‘At least I got some good stories out of it,’ he thinks, messing with the back of his hair and fixing his hoodie strings.
“Here.”
He turns around, coming face to face with you, holding out a box very close to him.
“Hot gusher.” You say softly. What? His cheeks heat up, pulse speeding up suddenly. He glances at Jason, who’s at the other end of the aisle asking an employee something. Are you implying something? Are you trying to proposition him in front of two for one cookie crisp? He’s unable to look away from your gaze, intense and striking. You couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Your fingers brush and he’s struggling to find an elegant way to say ‘hey, maybe the grocery store isn’t an ideal place for dirty talk’.
“W- uh, sorry, what?” he says, laughing in an equally hushed tone, needing to make sure you meant what he thought you did. You glance down, then back up.
“They’re spicy gushers. I thought you’d like them.” the feeling is gone in a split second, the same time it took to arrive, and is replaced with relief. He looks down at the box, realizing he’d taken it from you at some point. He laughs at the ridiculousness of his previous panic.
“Thanks,” he says, a reflective smile on his face.
You realize how comforted you are to see him smile, really smile, when you catch yourself having to keep a neutral face. One of the first times your resting bitch face has been intentional. Before you can say you’re welcome, Jason comes back over. You hand him the card.
“Pin number’s 0401.”
They both stare at you, skimming the label of a granola bar, completely unperturbed.
“How…”
“Credit card theft.”
The logical part of Leo’s brain starts to speak up, telling him to raise his guard, that his stomach should be twisting. If you can just take someone’s credit card without a hint of remorse, who knows what the hell kind of damage you could do to him if he got closer to you? And he really wants to get closer to you.
“Oh,” you pull a small pop top tube out of your cart and hand it to Leo, “this is for you too. You know, since you don’t like coffee,” you trail off as he reads the label. Caffeine and electrolyte drink tablets, red berry rampage flavor. He looks up at you, feeling warm and… something else, something ineffable, at the gesture.
You stare at each other, eyes locked, surprised at the strangely intimate feeling stirring in both of you.
“What are those?” Jason asks, snapping you out of whatever that was.
“Spicy gushers,” Leo says, smiling again, “I didn’t even know they made those.”
“Hot mango,” Jason reads from the side of the box, “that actually sounds pretty good.”
“No way dude, you can’t handle spicy food.” He starts to protest, and Leo continues, “You think ketchup is spicy!” He looks shocked.
“Okay, that was one time! It was a weird brand and there was way too much pepper in it!”
You bite back a giggle at their bickering, taking note of how much better Leo seems to be doing and finding surprising comfort in their banter.
It doesn’t take long to get to the airbnb and get set up. You all dump your bags in your rooms, bring in the groceries, and shove everything into the cabinets in a reasonably organized manner.
Jason heads upstairs to unpack and call Piper, announcing a few minutes later that they should be here in less than two hours.
“Perfect,” you pull out your hair dye from the last bag. It’s not exactly the manic panic wildfire red you’d initially wanted, but it’s definitely better than nothing. You stare at the box for a second, then up at Leo who’s trying to get one more bag of chips to fit in with the others.
“Hey,” you say, just loud enough to get his attention, “do you… can you get the back of my head?” He looks at you, questioning, and you hold up the box dye. He smiles, once again noting your softened edges around him.
“Yeah,” he agrees, and minutes later you’re in the bathroom, adorned in a big tee shirt covered in all your previous hair colors. He’s staring at your shirt, eyes dancing over the swirls and splatters of color. It reminds him of a painting he’d seen once, unable to remember the name.
You shake the bottle, skimming the instructions again, then start speaking to him, eyes still on the box.
“Take a section of hair, about this much,” you demonstrate, holding out a section of hair, “rub in the dye like this…”
You hand him the second bottle of red dye, and he starts on the back. His fingertips start separating out a section of your hair, and you still, a shiver running up your spine. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, and you hope he hadn’t noticed. His breath fans your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. Your lungs are shallow suddenly, squeezed tight like a bouquet clutched in a shaking hand. You find it almost impossible to focus on dying the front half of your hair.
You don’t want it to stop, you realize. His fingertips dancing along your hair, the glimpses of his incredibly focused face in the bathroom mirror, the way he’ll gently turn your head to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.
“Shit,” he leans back, hunching forward. You look behind you, eyes landing immediately on the spot of red dye on his shirt.
“Shit,” you echo. He looks back at you, waiting to see how he’ll react.
“Oh, it’s all good - no worries. I already have a ton of motor oil and lube - lubricant… machine grade, petroleum based engine lubricant-” he laughs, “stains on this shirt anyway. Don’t sweat it.”
You almost laugh. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and stomach, but catches in your throat. Before it can come out, he slips off his dye stained gloves, and tugs off his dye stained shirt from the back. It seems to happen in slow motion. In a mere moment, your eyes engraving every detail, every line and curve and freckle to memory.
There’s really no delicate way to put it; he’s fucking jacked. Deceptively so. You’re frozen in place, cheeks flushed. You suddenly wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, held so close to him.
You snap yourself out of the thought, all of that occurring in just a few seconds. He leans past you, setting the dye stained shirt carefully on the counter, glancing at you intensely.
“Are you checking me out?”
You make yourself roll your eyes and turn away, replying, “I’m sure you’d love that.”
Angled away from him, you momentarily reprimand yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and mouthing oh my god. You turn back to him, not recalling the last time you had to deliberately keep up your aloof front around someone like this.
“So, are we finishing my hair or just gonna leave it like this?” you ask rhetorically, motioning to your half done hair.
He watches you do this, confirming his suspicion that you’re really not as cold as you let on. A smile blooms on his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as… cute as that.
“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his gloves back on. The things you do around him seem to mean more now. He notices the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment when he plays with your hair, working in the dye, or the way you still for a split second when he gets a little too close to the side of your face, checking that he didn’t miss a spot.
He doesn’t want this to end either. But eventually, your hair is fully saturated with dye, the timer on your phone counting down slowly. There’s still some dye left. He sits on the closed toilet.
“Your turn. Do me.”
“What?” you laugh.
“Yeah, a little streak - up here.” He leans forward, sectioning off a part of his hair.
“Seriously?” you ask.
“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to match…” he muses. Your eyes get this dreamy look for the briefest second, then you’re turning back to shake the bottle some more.
“I guess… I mean there’s too much dye to throw out, we might as well do something with it.”
It’s his turn, now, to feel the warmth from your body, your hands running through his hair. His eyes want to close, and bask in the feeling, but he refuses to miss out on the view of you so soft, so close to him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, and much too soon you’re pulling away and throwing away the gloves and empty bottles.
By the time you finish cleaning up and throw out the garbage, it’s time to rinse your hair. Hanging your head over the tub, you let the water flow over your head until Leo tells you it’s running clear. He does the same, and you point out too late that he only had to rinse the dyed part, not his whole head.
You both laugh as you wrap a towel around your hair, teaching him how to do the same.
“Sweet, I’ve always wondered how to do the spa snail towel thing.”
“The spa snail towel thing?” You try in vain to fight another laugh.
“Yeah, you know… cause it looks like a snail, and they do it at spas…”
“Oh… my gods…” you laugh, exiting the bathroom and heading down the hall, “I”m going to get changed.” you call.
“Am I wrong?” he asks after you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He heads to his room to do the same.
A few minutes later, you’re carefully pulling on your top, when he calls through your door.
“Hey, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”
“...Okay,” you agree.
You check your outfit in the mirror. You can still feel his fingers brushing your neck. Your head tilts at the memory. Snapshots of him pulling off his shirt in slow motion flash in your memory.
You realize how much of an affect the last hour has had on you. Your stomach drops.
You can’t possibly be falling in love. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.
You’re not the falling in love type. At most, you’d hook up with someone a couple times on the rare occasion you thought they were hot, too.
Oh, you decide, that must be what’s happening. I just think he’s hot. I mean, duh. Of course he’s hot. Did you see him in there?
That’s all you have to do; hook up with him once, maybe twice, then you’ll get over it. It’ll make his ex jealous, and they’ll get back together. It will go just like it always has. Then you can move on to whatever the next crisis is.
You take a breath, resolving to follow the plan, exit your room. You throw yours and Leo’s old clothes and towels in the hamper, and head down stairs. He greets you, and pulls you into the kitchen.
“I have something to ask you.” Your brow furrows.
“...Okay.”
He takes your hand in his, the other behind his back.
“Will you…” he looks at you, gaze piercing, “...be my sous-chef.” he finishes, holding out an apron, matching his.
You study him, a hopeful, surprisingly confident look on his face. His hair is still damp. You’re sure yours is, too. You wait a beat, before replying slowly.
“Yes. But I’m not wearing that.”
“That’s fair,” he says, setting the apron on the counter, “I will have to dock your pay for being out of uniform, though.” You let out a puff of air from your nose, biting back a laugh. He pulls out a skillet, bowl, and oil, and begins preheating the pan. You watch him pull out more ingredients, and begin to set things up.
“Right now we’re waiting on that,” he says nodding at the stove. You nod, inspecting a bottle of seasoning he’d pulled out, and settle into a comfortable silence.
He thinks back to the last time you had time like this - playing twenty questions at your apartment. A pit forms in his stomach as he remembers the conversation veering to Calypso, as it always seemed to. He shoves it away. Not this time. He steadies his nerves.
“So, you want to play twenty questions?”
You agree, coming closer to him.
“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
Your eyes flick over to the clock. You have a solid hour, hour and a half before the others are supposed to get here. You stare at him, brushing hair out of his face.
“I’d be dead in the endless void of deep space.”
He cracks a smile at how on brand that response was. Your fingertips trail down to his neck, rethen shoulder. The smile doesn’t leave his face, not completely. Your heart beats loudly in anticipation.
“My turn. Do you want to make out?”
His head snaps up, eyes locked with yours, trying to tell if you’re serious or if this is another example of your distinct sense of humor. But he can tell it’s not - there’s something a little too close to the surface in your eyes.
“Yeah. Yes, totally-”
You grab his collar, pulling him in for a kiss, and leaning back against the empty counter.
His lips are soft and warm, moving gracefully with yours. You barely register that the first kiss ends before you dive back in. You angle your head, deepening the kiss. He plants one hand on the counter, the other making its way to the small of your back. You flick your tongue past his lips, and his grip on your waist tightens. You clutch his collar tighter, other hand moving through his hair, still damp at the ends.
You can tell he’s enjoying what you do by the way his mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corners, and by the way he starts to harden beneath you. You roll your hips into his, and he falters, sighing, breath fanning your lips. Not quite a moan, but you’re getting there.
The front door opens before you can.
Leo pulls away reluctantly, very reluctantly, and turns off the stove.
“That was fast,” he says, panting slightly and still very flushed. They’re not supposed to be here for a while, still.
A tall girl enters the kitchen, dark strawberry blonde hair pulled over her shoulder. She looks between you and Leo with a sour expression on her face.
“Calypso,” Leo says.
"...Hi."
111 notes
·
View notes
The Other Side of Hollywood
Part Two
Word Count: 5.0K+
Author’s Note: So... Y’all quite like this one, I’m glad to be of service to you. Just started writing Part Three the now, so that’ll hopefully be up tomorrow. Uh, what else? I made a gif for this! that one up there, that was fun! Enjoy part two, let me know if you want on the taglist, thank you for reading the nonsense I write.
Warning: brief discussion of death (how the reader died), otherwise I think it’s all clear.
Check out ‘Part One’ here, and the masterlist here.
--
Y/N didn’t actively go seeking out Luke or his bandmates after the night at the club for two rather prominent reasons:
1) Caleb had explicitly told her not to, and after 25 years in his employ, Y/N knew better than to face the wrath of the most powerful spirit she knew,
2) She was actually nervous to talk to him again.
So, while Willie skated around the city to try and catch a glance of Alex, Y/N stay firmly put in the club for the following days. She had the privilege of going out, she normally used it to follow Willie about LA as he skated or go see new bands at her favourite music spots around the city, but those few days she barely left her apartment in the hotel.
In fact, when she eventually met Luke, it was by complete accident.
Luke had spent that past few days with Alex and Reggie, trying to convince Julie to re-join the band. They tried singing her back in, tried bribing her after Reggie managed to finally grab a cupcake from the fridge, and nothing worked. It was only on Luke’s birthday, after seeing how he acted with his parents, that Julie finally agreed to continue the band, now labelled ‘Julie and The Phantoms’ thanks to Flynn, and they were able to confirm their first proper gig at a club downtown.
It was a showcase more than anything, a chance for managers and talent scouts to find fresh faces for records, the perfect opportunity for them. Sure, Julie had to sneak out after her dad and tía grounded her, but it was worth it. The boys met her at the venue, as did Flynn, and they found spaces in the crowd to wait for their turn.
“Am I late?” Julie asked Flynn as she rushed in, to which Flynn shook her head with a sigh.
“No, you’re early.” She muttered, gesturing to the stage as Carrie walked on stage with Dirty Candy, a sight no one expected to see that night.
“Carrie? How did she get in?” Julie asked Flynn, trying her hardest to contain the eye roll as the five girls on stage took their positions.
“Daddy probably made some calls.” Flynn muttered, Dirty Candy’s track coming on in the background.
“Isn’t she the one dating the guy you-” Luke leaned forward to ask, wiggling his eyebrows, but he was shushed by Julie quickly, who folded her arms over her chest, making Luke and Reggie chuckle a little. When the third laugh of Alex didn’t appear, the pair glanced around, only to find their bandmate had disappeared.
“Where is he?” Reggie asked, only for Alex to appear on stage with Dirty Candy, dancing his heart out along with the girls. He flounced and twirled in time with the music, though his lanky frame made every movement a little clumsy and jagged. It was only a matter of moments before Julie, Reggie and Luke were all laughing beside a rather confused Flynn.
“It’s the guys..” Julie muttered, and Flynn just nodded, Alex reappearing right beside her. “You having fun out there?” She asked Alex, who took a few deep breaths.
“It’s not me… Uh…” He smiled a little, looking over to find Reggie with a dubious look on his face and Luke struggling not to chuckle. “It’s my feet.” He explained, a grin growing on his face. “Put me back in coach.” He muttered before poofing away back onto the stage, the action earning a laugh from behind the guys and Julie, making them all stop for a moment.
Luke and Reggie shared a look with Julie, all of them confused. They were the only ones who could hear their conversations, could see one another, so why had they heard another girl laughing? Reggie turned to investigate, his eyes widening as he spotted a familiar face two tables back, and he quickly nudged Luke. When Luke didn’t respond, Reggie yanked his arm and turned him around.
“Gotta say, I really thought you were the dancer of the group Denim… But I think Alex’s takes first place.” Y/N spoke over the noise, lifting her hand to wave her fingers. “Hi Reggie.” She said with a smile, the boy gulping and waving back, before waving a hand in front of Julie’s face to get her attention.
“Reggie wh-” Julie swivelled and stopped, looking at Luke and the girl Luke was staring at, who then looked back at her with an equal amount of shock.
“Why do you look terrified?” Flynn asked suddenly, noticing her best friend had done a 180 and was staring into space.
“I can… see her…” Julie said slowly, while at the same time Y/N asked Luke a question.
“Can she see me?” Her eyes never broke from the pretty Latina girl, probably a half year younger than herself, and Luke glanced between the two. The girl looked oddly familiar, like Y/N had seen her before, met her before, but she couldn’t place it.
“I uh… I guess so. Julie,” Luke snapped his fingers in front of Julie’s face, and the girl blinked quickly, nodding to show she was back from her daze. “Julie, this is Y/N. Y/N, Julie.”
“I wish I looked as amazing as you do in turquoise.” Y/N said quickly, trying to relieve some tension before turning back to Luke, and getting a baffled ‘thank you’ from Julie in return. “Why can she see me?”
“Oh, Julie can see all of us. She’s the one that brought the guys and I back… Not sure how she can see you, but I’m new to the whole ghost thing, I’m not gonna question it.” Luke shrugged, earning a smile from Y/N. “Why are you here? Stalking us like Willie has been?”
“Not at all, if you can believe. No, I’m… I’m a big music fan, this is one of my favourite spots. Like to listen to the new age rock coming out of LA… Not whatever this is.” She gestured to the stage, one of the lights shining on her: she was dressed quite the same as the last time Luke had seen her, this time a band tee and denim skirt with doc martens on, her hair in braids. “It’s almost like I perform for a… for an after-living.” She paused on the right word for it, getting a sweet laugh from the mop-haired boy. “Why are you interfering with my personal time?” She questioned right back as Alex reappeared with the song’s ending. He took one glance at Y/N and bent over to whisper into Julie’s ear, causing her to cover her mouth and squeal.
“We, uh, we’re performing next...” Luke said quickly, glaring at his friends and shooing them away. With the action, Julie and Flynn rushed away, the former whispering in Flynn’s ear as they went, while Alex and Reggie left to ready themselves for the performance. “Sorry about that.”
“Good things, I hope?” She giggled a little, and Luke went red. “You know, I knew you were in a band, I just didn’t think it would be with a lifer. How on earth does that work?” Y/N asked with sincerity, and Luke smiled.
“You’ll have to wait and see, darling.” He teased before disappearing, leaving Julie on the stage alone.
--
Luke thought he had got off lucky, that with so much focus being around getting Julie back on board with the band would let Alex and Reggie forget about what happened after their night at the club, but as soon as they all got back rehearsing, the subject of Luke’s mystery woman came up again: the first time had been late the night after the club, when Reggie mentioned it out of the blue and got him and Alex talking it over for an hour.
“Julie, I know you’ve been busy…” Reggie started the afternoon before their show with the tell-tale signs of oncoming gossip, causing Luke to look up from his song writing journal. “But the night of the club, sorry about that by the way, Luke got more than a stamp.” He dished, and Julie stared at him wide eyed.
“It was nothing, stop talking crap Reggie.” Luke tried to defend himself, but Alex had snuck behind him and pinned him to the couch, and Reggie was already rolling up his sleeve to reveal the faded markings of a telephone number.
“Who is she?” Julie gasped, moving to the edge of the couch and resting her chin on her hands.
“No-one… Her name was Y/N… But it doesn’t matter because I won’t call her.” Luke huffed, shaking off his bandmates and turning back to his journal.
“What? Why not?” Reggie asked, appalled. “You like her, she clearly likes you… Calling you Denim all night, dancing with you…” He trailed off, but it was enough for Julie to squeal.
“A nickname and dancing? Luke, why don’t you call her?!” She demanded answers, all three of them did, quickly forming a line up of folded arms in front of the couch Luke had gotten comfy on to write. He sat up, frustrated, and slammed his book closed.
“Because, right now, we’re focused on music! Last thing I want, or need is a…” He stopped, wondering what on earth he would even call dating a fellow ghost.
“A ghoulfriend?” Alex offered, the trio stopping for a moment before laughing hysterically, leaving Luke groaning and covering his face with a pillow.
--
Watching them perform was a level of exhilaration Y/N hadn’t felt since she was… Well, alive. It gave her ghost bumps on her arms, had her tapping her feet and dancing along, triggered every happy feeling she could muster.
After a slight hiccup with the band’s name, and Luke admitting that his handwriting sucked, Julie corrected the host as she sat down at the piano.
Julie’s voice was angelic, and watching her play the piano struck chords in Y/N’s heart she didn’t know were there anymore, and she found herself standing beside Flynn, Julie’s friend, as they watched together, though very separate. Her voice brought the whole room to life after the Candy Girls’, or whatever they were called, performance: people quickly went from focusing on their drinks and food to focusing solely on her.
And then, like magic, the boys’ and their entire set up, instruments and all, appeared on stage for the chorus. Even as a ghost, Y/N was as surprised as the other audience members, who had grabbed out phones to record and done double takes when the rest of the band appeared on stage from thin air.
She couldn’t help that her gaze fell on Luke, strumming away on his guitar in the sleeveless tee that just proved her point from a few nights ago about his arms: he was more than distracting, he was striking, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Not as Julie sang like a member of heaven’s choir, not on Alex’s drum solos, never: her eyes were caught on him.
It seemed that quite soon after her eyes had found their home on him, Luke’s eyes found their home on her. As he sang along with Julie, he couldn’t seem to stop the passion in his voice, the unwavering eye contact that the pair held with Y/N letting her know that whatever the lyrics meant, they were for her in some way. The eye contact didn’t go unnoticed by his bandmates, Reggie and Alex finding themselves sharing a glance at Luke’s grin as he sang, Julie getting in on it as they came to the song’s final bridge. Luke dragged his eye contact from Y/N to look over at Julie, who couldn’t stop smiling, wiggling her eyebrows for a moment to make Luke chuckle as he sang.
And then, the song ended, and Y/N watched the boys vanish the same way they appeared, earning another gasp from the crowd before the audience erupted with applause. She took it as her cue to go home, opting to save the congratulations for the band at another time instead of passing them on through Julie.
Within a moment, she was down the street from her home, from the hotel she had called home for 25 years. Each step along the quiet street took her high from the performance further and further away, until it was simply a spark in her heart, and she was humming the song as she started towards the building’s side entrance.
“So, what did you think?” The voice caught Y/N off guard, causing her to spin round with the intention to maim before she matched the voice to the person: Luke was a few paces behind her, still in his clothes from the concert, fiddling with a guitar pick between his fingers.
“You want the honest or the kind review?” She teased back, walking towards him with a smirk, one of her hands coming to undo her first braid. Luke watched for a moment as she quickly unfurled the hair until it bounced past her shoulders in waves, only looking back at her eyes once she had moved to the second braid.
“Honest, always.” Luke replied, smiling as Y/N slipped the hairbands onto her wrist and ran her fingers through her hair before replying.
“Well…” She paused, a smile forming on her face as she shook her head. “I think it might be the best musical performance I’ve ever had the privilege to watch. You were all just… Electric.” She concluded, thinking over each word, leaving Luke with a dumbfounded expression.
“I thought I said honest.” He chuckled, and Y/N grinned.
“The kind review wouldn’t have fluffed your ego so much.” She replied. “Take the truth however you want, but I’ve spent years watching bands perform and I have never seen any as good as you four.” She said with a blush and a smile that Luke could only just catch in the dim lighting.
“Can we go somewhere?” He asked after a moment, causing Y/N to look up into his eyes with a grin.
“The beach two blocks away is deserted any time past 10…” She suggested, and Luke held out his hand to her, offering to travel together. She took it with one last look back at the side door entrance, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw someone… But they disappeared before she had a good look, and a blink later she was on sandy shores, the waves rolling and causing her to smile.
“Where shall we bunker down?” Luke asked, and Y/N kept a tight grip on his hand, leading him to her favourite spot on the beach.
It was on the rocks, far enough back that the sea could never reach it, and high enough that they were given a perfect view of the whole bay, cliffs blocking the crystal clear water in on each side. The rocks were free of algae and moss, and too low for birds’ nests: the perfect spot on the beach.
They found themselves quite soon after sat cross-legged beside one another, watching the stars twinkle above them and the sea roll in, crashing quietly against the rocks further out.
“You certainly found the best spot on the beach.” Luke said after a moment, his voice so quiet it almost blended with the natural sounds around them. He didn’t like the idea of disturbing such tranquillity with his voice, and his choice of volume brought a beautiful smile to Y/N’s face.
“It took me most of my childhood, but I did it.” She said with a half-hearted chuckle, beginning to poke her finger through a hole in her top. Neither of them was quite sure what to say, so Luke took lead, turning 90 degrees to face her, prompting Y/N to do the same, the pair now face to face inside of side by side.
“20 questions, easiest way to get through all the simple stuff.” He proposed, and when not met with a no, he continued. “What’s your full name?”
“Y/N Y/L/N. Yours?”
“Luke Patterson.” He replied, and Y/N got the feeling she knew the name.
“Age. I’m 17.” She asked, and he smiled.
“17, a month away from voting… Favourite colour?”
“Don’t have one and I don’t think you do either.” She responded, met by a laugh and a nod. “Interest outside of performing?”
“Songwriting… You?”
“Nothing really…” She trailed off a little at that, and Luke frowned, reaching out and taking her hand in his.
“When did you die?” He asked, and Y/N smiled. She liked that they had moved on to what they actually wanted to know about each other.
“My birthday in ’95.” She shrugged with a sad smile, and Luke nodded. How uncanny, for her to die on her birthday, for it to be his…
“’95 as well, would you believe… Can I ask another question?” His thumb started rubbing the back of her hand. “How long have you been… Like this?”
“I uh… Coming on 25 years now… But it feels like 7 when you work at the Club.” She shrugged. “I uh… A lot of my co-workers, they tell me about this dark room they were in… Some of them for decades, but it felt like a day… I never got that… Did you?”
“25 years of it, actually… I appeared here about a month ago.” Luke answered, and the pair fell silent for a few minutes. There was a question eating at them both, neither quite courageous enough to ask. Instead, they held one another’s hands, rubbing their thumbs in circles, feeling the occasional jolt of electricity.
“How did it happen?” Y/N finally asked, though when Luke looked up her eyes were on their hands.
“Reggie, Alex and I all died on the same night… Same thing.” Luke sighed, letting out a laugh. “We ate some bad hot dogs, died within the hour.” He shrugged, and Y/N let out a giggle. “Yeah, I know. Weird way to go… What about you?”
“I uh… I don’t know exactly.” She stopped for a moment, removing her hands from his and placing them down on the rock below. “It was my birthday, obviously… My cousin convinced me to get a tattoo, promised me my parents would get over it. So we went to this parlour on the boulevard at Venice, they put on my favourite song to calm me down, the tattoo took maybe a half hour?” She gestured to her wrist, where a stamp from the club lay. “It’s under the stamp now. But anyway, thought my parents wouldn’t mind, but they went crazy. Livid. And I mean I wasn’t a perfect kid by any means, but for whatever reason the tattoo tipped them over the edge. They told me to leave and never come back… And I didn’t.” She looked up finally, seeing Luke’s brows furrowed from her story, urging her to go into the more grisly details.
“It’s been so long I don’t remember my birthday, I never celebrated it enough to care and remember the date, not even as a kid, but I remember that year, on my birthday, it was uncharacteristically cold. Not just for LA, but for the season, whenever it was. And I spent most of that night wandering. I didn’t want my cousin to know the bad news, or my aunt to see the tattoo, so I just wandered… Stumbled upon the beach… Found my rock…” She trailed off for a moment, and Luke glanced down at where he was sat: it became painfully clear that this is where she had died.
“I don’t really know what got me in the end. If it was hypothermia or some undiagnosed heart defect, you know maybe something happened when I fell asleep and I didn’t know. All I do know is… I woke up that next morning and… And I looked at my body from above, and my lips were blue… I went to the funeral, not a lot of people came, and then I just wandered again… Meet Caleb, rest is history.”
“I’m so sorry, Y/N… I really am.” Luke whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek Y/N hadn’t even noticed was there. She sniffled and let out a happy sigh, however forced it was, and patted the stone beneath her.
“It’s just what happened… I’ve enjoyed my afterlife a whole lot more.” She quickly wiped her cheeks again, making sure any stray tears were gone. “Are you better at singing or guitar?” she asked, trying to get the game back on track, and Luke obliged her.
“Well, you tell me. You, after all, are the musical critic.” Luke leaned forward as he spoke, earning a quick intake of breath from his counterpart. It felt nice, making her nervous… It felt nice to talk to a girl again, to hold hands with her like he wasn’t dead…
“Ah, but that’s not fair. I don’t play guitar, I have an uninformed opinion.” She refuted with a smile, and Luke’s eyes seem to light up for a moment.
“You sing?” He asked, and Y/N’s face dropped. She hadn’t said that, had she? But, by saying she didn’t play guitar, she implied she sang. Shit…
“I uh… No, not really.” She tried to brush it away, searching for another question to ask like she could pick it out of the air, but nothing came to her, and Luke watched her quick grab at escape with befuddled amusement.
“Your words say no, the look on your face says yes…” He said, bringing her back from her search with a hand on her shoulder. “I’d love to hear you sometime.”
“What? My voice? No, no you would not. I’m about two paces from a strangled cat compared to you, compared to Julie and the guys? You all sound perfect.” Y/N smiled, blowing a loose strand of hair from her eyes. The wind was picking up a little, and the faintest of tingles brushed their skin.
“Perfect isn’t everything… Seriously, if you ever want to, my offer stands.” Luke smiled at her, and she felt her heart beginning to race a little. His emerald green eyes were boring into her soul, sending a blush to her cheeks and nonsense to her lips.
“I… Uh… I’m…” She didn’t like the feeling, letting her guard down in front of him, letting him in on a guilty pleasure. It felt like she was digging underneath some invisible barricade she had created, stepping into her personal space with reckless care and abandon. “It’s getting late… You should be getting home, as should I.” She said quickly, standing up and brushing off the dust from her shorts. Luke followed suit, a frown on his face at the sudden ending of their get together.
“It was… It was really nice to see you again.” He said with a half-hearted smile, and Y/N looked up at him.
“You know… Maybe you should think again about Caleb’s offer… I sing sometimes, at work… Just backing vocals really, but.” She stopped, running her hand up her arm as the cold settled into the salty air. As much as she liked her beach, she hated it on nights like this. “I’d really like to see you again… Come by the club if you get a chance…” She said quickly, walking over and pressing a kiss to Luke’s cheek in a surprising turn of events. For a moment, she was so convinced she’s just leave, just let it go and not look back, leave the job up to Willie. And yet, there she was, practically asking him out.
“I will. Come by the club… See you again.” He responded quickly, his hand coming up to his cheek absentmindedly. She just… It left a soft feeling, warm and gentle and he wasn’t quite sure what else, but it made his heart thump a little harder.
He had forgotten what crushing on a girl felt like.
“Good…” She nodded, the pair falling into an awkward silence, neither sure where to go from there. The wind was picking up again, and looking back inland they could both see the sky was slowly changing colour from a midnight blue to a pastel, with tinges of green welcoming a soft yellow. Morning was fast approaching, and they both had places to be. “Well, this is now a little awkward…” Y/N laughed a little, running a hand through her hair. “I’m gonna go… See you around, Denim. Tell your band they were great for me.” She waved her fingers as she took a few steps back, vanishing in a flash and leaving Luke to stare out at the ocean, decorated with the reflection of the overhead stars.
He walked back to Julie’s studio that night, keen to ponder the happenings of the night as he made his way through the city. He didn’t mean to pass the Orpheum on his way, but he did, stopping outside for a moment and glancing up at the neon sign that suddenly flickered off with the morning arriving. By the time he had gotten back to Julie’s, it was about time she would be heading for school, and he entered the studio to three expectant faces: Reggie, Alex, and Julie, all looking fairly worried for his safety.
“Where have you been?” Julie asked, Luke simply shrugging in response as he went over to the couch, lying back on the comfy pillows.
“I went for a walk.” He shrugged, glancing over. Their expressions had changed from worry to excitement all of a sudden, and it was freaking him out. “What?”
“Lipstick on your cheek says otherwise…” Alex mumbled, turning back around to his drum kit as Reggie and Julie sat on each side of Luke, Julie on the couch end and Reggie in the middle, making it rather difficult for Luke to escape. “Never seen you smitten before Luke. Was it the girl from the club again?” Alex asked with a toss of his drumstick, spinning it in the air before catching it with ease and taking a seat at his side of the room.
“Wait, the girl at the bar last night? The one I could see? Y/N?” Julie asked, receiving nods from Alex and Reggie, the latter of whom was closely examining Luke’s cheek. “She was pretty.” She drew the words out in a childish tone, craning her neck and batting her lashes to make Alex laugh from across the room, and Luke frown.
“I can’t believe she would be into you… You should have seen her at the club Julie, apologies again, I mean… She looked like a movie star.” Reggie rambled, and Luke had to flap him off with a laugh.
“Why don’t we stop pestering me about nothing and get back to rehearsal… And you, Julie, need to be at school.” Luke reprimanded her with a grin, “Isn’t it your big dance performance with a Mr Nick?” He teased, quickly getting the attention from him onto Julie as Alex and Reggie bombarded her with questions as she headed for the door.
“We’ve got a gig, tonight. We can sort out the order of the set list later, but pick what you want to show off. Dad’s getting it filmed for us.” Julie called, and she glanced back, catching Luke’s eye as she opened the door, the look they shared letting Luke know he wasn’t done talking about his mystery girl.
--
“You look sad, my little sunset.” A voice called to Y/N from across the club as she stood behind the bar, a row of polished glases to her right. she had spent most of her morning there, and as Caleb’s voice sounded the absentminded movement her fingers played on the countertop halted. The night before had been a success, one she was meant to attend, and by the tone of his voice and the fact he walked to her instead of teleporting, Y/N knew Caleb wasn’t happy with her.
“I’m fine.” She dismissed him and picked up another glass to polish, but the answer clearly wasn’t good enough. A blunt object came under her chin, Caleb’s cane, tapping her head up and away from the glass she was polishing to look him in the eye.
“Y/N, how long have we worked together?” He asked.
“25 years, Mr Covington.”
“And did I not give you everything you ever wanted? A home, a family, a job you love?” He asked again and Y/N gulped.
“Yes, Mr Covington… You did.” She managed, the cane moving away from her neck, and for a moment she thought she had satisfied his ego.
With a forceful swoop of the cane, Caleb ran the metal topper through the row of freshly cleaned glasses Y/N had been working on, drawing a scream from the girl as glass shattered around them.
“Then why is it you run around behind my back?! HUH?!” He bellowed, and Y/N took a step back, lifting herself onto the back side of the bar to avoid the glass, to be further away from Caleb. “First Willie, now you… Your job was to tempt the boys back to the club, not go to their shows and fall for their lead guitarist, Y/N!” He continued, and she felt a tear roll down her cheek.
“C-caleb I’m… I’m sorry I…” She tried to apologise, but he cut her off as he jumped over the bar, his feet crunching on glass as he landed. Their faces were inches from one another, Y/N doing her best not to let out the sob that was clogging her throat.
“25 years… I taught you every trick in the book, everything I knew. I made you management material, I made you powerful…” He hissed, causing Y/N to flinch. “And look at you… A few days with some 90s teen heartthrob on your mind and it’s all been undone.” He sighed, the disappointment so clear to Y/N, it only made the tears run faster down her cheeks. “Take an hour. By the time you get back, you’ll have left your childish crush and fantasies somewhere else, you’ll come back to work the strong girl I know.” He started away, smashing one last glass for good measure, and earning a scream from the terrified girl.
“Whatever that boy did or said, remember this: love is weakness, and I don’t tolerate the weak.” Caleb reminded her, starting his saunter to wards his apartment, just beyond the backstage area.
“It would be such a shame if I had to let you leave us, Y/N. Weakness is a breach of contract after all.”
--
Part Three is here...
--
Tags: @im-a-writer-right @elioelioeli0 @jenjen889 @walkingonshunshine @parkeret @lolychu @leahstypewriter @j-mar-memester @sunsetcurve-h @musicconversedance
490 notes
·
View notes
ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴs
✉ how they get their darling
⤹ yandere!au
⤹ ft. bakugou, kirishima, midoriya, shinsou, todoroki
⤹ tw. kidnapping, drugging, typical yan things
< ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏsᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ
═══ ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ ᴋᴀᴛᴜsᴋɪ
▹ ok we’ve established bakugou isn’t an idiot
▹ and that he won’t go after his darling if he knows there’s any amount of risk
▹ so he waits
▹ and waits
▹ and waits
▹ someone should give him a cookie for his patience level
▹ he won’t take you unless he has everything prepared
▹ comfortable room? check. clothes for you? check. the promise of a good lifestyle? check. sedative in case you don’t settle in as nicely as he expects? check.
▹ even when he’s double-triple checked that everything is in place, he still checks again
▹ but once he’s convinced himself all is in order, he goes in for the final piece
▹ you
══
There’s a pounding behind your eyes when you wake up.
You wonder, for a moment, just how much you drank last night while sitting up. Rubbing at your temples does little to ease the growing pressure, briefly opening them to look around a room that you realize quickly isn’t at all familiar. The blanket currently pooled at your waist is not something you’d ever purchase; a baby blue that looked far too childlike to really be used by an adult such as yourself. The rest of the room matches it fairly well, clouds painted on the walls with white furniture that looks too clean, too new, to be owned by any of your friends.
It looks like you’re in a kids room.
But, the bed is a queen, and everything else seems to be in size for a toddler. Stuffed animals shoved into a corner, all of the power outlets covered, and one focused look at yourself tops it all off; you’re in a onesie. A fucking onesie.
Who even took the time to undress you? What the fuck happened last night?
The adrenaline kicks in before you realize, causing you to kick away the covers and jump out of the bed. All your hero instincts, everything you’ve ever trained for in your life goes into overdrive as you reach the door, throwing it open and sucking in a breath when someone behind it lets out a noise of surprise.
“Bakugou?” You make out, brows furrowing, before you let out a laugh, “Oh thank god, I think-” You pause, taking in the glass of water in his hands and the comfortable clothes on his form; sweats and tee. “How… What’s going on?”
You’re taking a step back before realizing, withdrawing your hand from the door handle while unease settles in the pit of your stomach.
He cocks his head to the side, offering the glass to you, “You don’t remember?”
A shake of your head, unsteady hands taking the drink. You eye it warily, memories from last night still foggy, your mind still dazed from the unknown, still trying to process what’s currently happening. But… this is Bakugou. Your friend, your companion, a fellow hero. There’s no reason for you to be nervous, right?
You sip from it, the liquid immediately coating your mouth and causing you to end up gulping down more than half of it.
“You got a little carried away drinking last night,” he says as he watches you drink, “I asked if you wanted me to bring you home so I did.”
You place the now empty cup on the dresser, your headache seeming to increase despite you getting water into your system, unable to prevent the look of confusion crossing over your features as you look around the room, “But… this isn’t my house..?”
Bakugou steps further into the room, closing the door behind him as you close your eyes and rub at your temples again, “It is now.”
You black out before you even have the chance to question what that could mean.
═══ ᴋɪʀɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴇɪᴊɪʀᴏ
▹ kirishima would be very hesitant to take you, to be honest
▹ the fact that he’s self-aware holds him back from committing to anything
▹ on one hand….. he can keep you safe, he can protect you from the world
▹ on the other hand……. you can take care of yourself. you’re a big kid, a pro hero
▹ but he really hates the profession you’re in.
▹ you’re just asking to be hurt, you know? and it’s like you want him to watch, too, with you being a sidekick so close to his agency
▹ it hurts, really, having to see you get called on scene for most of the same fights as him and seeing you get absolutely pummeled
▹ but you can hold your own, right?
▹ you can’t
▹ it takes one good punch to the face for all of his resolve to snap, for him to see red, and be the last convincer he needs to take you in
══
You were out of commission. Kirishima honestly didn’t even have any eyes on you, he just knows the static ringing in his ears is coming from your comm and you haven’t responded despite his voice going hoarse with how much he’s called out for you.
Another hero should’ve come to the scene, any other hero would’ve been fine. Instead, fate seemed to mock him. Fate had to send you, and now you were probably out cold or even dead and it’s his fault for even allowing you to step foot in the area.
He shakes his head without realizing he’s doing it. ‘Clear those negative thoughts, Eiji!‘ You would tell him if you were here right now, ‘There’s no point in thinking like that when we have bigger things to worry about!’
Yeah, well look at where that kind of thinking got you now. In a ditch, under some rubble, somewhere he doesn’t know to look yet, and it’ll be a surprise if he can manage to find you- the destruction the villains left in their wake doesn’t aid him in this feat, either.
Then he hears it- a groan.
Cautiously, he slows his speed and looks around the area, eyes scanning over and under every piece of debris he can, calling out if anyone is there, if anyone needs assistance.
“Eiji.” Someone utters, just barely above a whisper. He knows that voice, Kirishima knows who’s calling out to him. Instinct takes over, either primal or heroic, he can’t place it, he can only process himself running and tearing through some debris until his nails are bloody and his hands ache.
Beneath it all is you. Bloody and bruised, but you’re breathing and that’s really all Kirishima can think about. Getting home is a blur. Kirishima didn’t even realize he was en route to his house until he was at the door, adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he unlocked the door with shaky hands. It was a task in itself, adjusting your unconscious form in his arms until he could kick the flimsy wood open and closed with just as much force, but you were here. You were home.
Everything could be okay, now. He just… needs to make a few more preparations.
═══ ᴍɪᴅᴏʀɪʏᴀ ɪᴢᴜᴋᴜ
▹ it’s been said once, it’ll be said again
▹ midoriya is a dirty boy
▹ he plays dirty
▹ he plays you
▹ midoriya would take it upon himself to ask you out before you graduate from ua. you two would be one of the most popular hero couples; highschool sweethearts, fighting crime together during the days and watching rom-coms during the nights
▹ assuming your nights aren’t filled with fighting more crime, that is
▹ but, midoriya gets itchy when he has to witness you fight
▹ it crawls under his skin, burrowing deep beneath his bones until he just has to say something
▹ he’d convince you to quit your profession, over time.
▹ you don’t really need to put yourself in danger, anyways, right? he makes more than enough to support the both of you. you’d be so much prettier just... being his arm candy, too, going to gallas with him and not adorning purple bruises that can rival with the color of his tie.
▹ midoriya is good with his words. he’s good at coercion, good at persuading you that you don’t need all the extra people in your life either- you have him! you love him, he’s all you need.
▹ and you’d listen. without a shadow of a doubt, you’d believe him because you do love him, and he’s never led you astray.
══
Midoriya picked at his nails, a nervous habit he thinks he may have gotten from you. Despite the clear tic, you frown. Open your mouth to argue, but he beats you to the punch.
“I just… don’t think there’s anything wrong with having a few extra locks on the doors…”
“It’s not that there’s something wrong with extra locks,” you start, reaching up to twist at the knob of the door, giving it a pull. Your frown deepens when it doesn’t seem to budge, “I just don’t like the idea of… being locked in my own bedroom.”
“But it’s for your safety…” he whimpers, lip being pulled beneath his teeth, “as one of the top five heroes, I just…. couldn’t… live with myself if you got hurt when it could be avoided.”
“I feel like you forget I was a hero once, too.”
Then you do it, the picking at your nails. Midoriya’s always been analytical, always one to catch onto things quickly, and he’s always one to study you. To study your habits. Based on past experience, you’re close to giving in. You just need one push…
“You were, but... “ he looks to the side, hoping to not offend you with his next choice of words, “but now you just stay at home… I mean, when’s the last time you sparred with someone? Or even… you know, went out and exercised?”
You scoff, unable to hold back the sound, incredulous that he really just said that, “I can still-”
He cuts you off before you could truly form a defense, pressing your shoulder back. You stumble and hit the door behind you. All the air is pushed from your lungs, nails digging into Midoriya’s arms until you feel the crescents form beneath your fingertips, and yet he doesn’t flinch. Narrowed eyes meet your own wide ones, and he’s focused, scary, trying to prove his point.
Proven, it is.
“Okay-” You whisper out, choking back a sob, “Okay, you’re right- I can… I can deal with the locks.”
═══ sʜɪɴsᴏᴜ ʜɪᴛᴏsʜɪ
▹ shinsou can’t control himself around you sometimes
▹ just the thought of you existing, breathing in the same space as him riles him up
▹ you get under his skin in the best of ways by just being you and if shinsou’s anything, he’s impulsive, when it comes to you
▹ he’s always been close to you, anyways, right?
▹ you’d trust him, those around him?
▹ those he trusts?
▹ you wouldn’t think he’s wrong or dirty, for wanting you all to himself
▹ if you did, you wouldn’t be looking at him like that
══
You wake up with a kink in your neck.
Moving to rub at what you know is a knot forming at the top of your spine is impossible, your arms bound to the chair with rope that will surely have your skin rubbed raw with how much struggling is in your future. Your eyes aren’t covered, but that doesn’t seem to matter- the room is dark, too dark to adjust to. You might as well have your eyes closed.
Raking your brain to think of how you got here doesn’t help, a headache forming in the center of your skull and settling deep beneath the bone. You could scream, but it seems all the silva in your mouth has been sucked dry from the gag placed directly over your lips.
What were you doing? What could you defend yourself with? How could you get yourself out of this mess?
Different ideas, different thoughts came and went, but ultimately left you with nothing. An empty plaine. No way out. You blink away the tears forming and pull against the restraints. You refuse to let it end like this. You haven’t even graduated from U.A. yet, you haven’t been able to prove yourself to the world-
There’s a noise out above you, a door slamming, you think. Your kidnappers? Maybe heroes? Your mind’s still too foggy to much more than squint when the room you’re in is suddenly illuminated by an outside light, whoever came in being backlit by the light from behind him.
The door closes behind him, but he flicks a switch on and suddenly the room is much too bright. You flinch away and let your eyes adjust, taking in your surroundings as quickly as you can. A basement, you think. No windows, a concrete floor, a leak coming from one of the corners of the room. Then, he walks down creaky stairs. You look towards him, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.
You meet violet. Lazy. Tired. You know those eyes. You can’t even make a sound to voice your confusion, brows furrowing when his leisure pace doesn’t quicken at your state. There’s no panic, no urgency in the way he struts towards you. He only pauses once he’s in front of you, squatting so he’s eye-level.
He removes the gag.
“What the fuck is going on, Shins-”
“Shhh,” he waves a hand dismissively, cutting you off while toying with the rope keeping you bound to the chair. He doesn’t untie it, “There’s no need to get all fussy. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”
“We?” You can’t help but whisper, pulling at the binding, “undo these right now, I’m not joking.”
If he hears the panic rising in your tone, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he gives you his signature lazy smile and lets his fingers trail from the rope, up and down your arm until goosebumps form where he touches.
The door opens again, and another set of footsteps comes down the stairs.
“Aizawa-sensei?” You whimper out, struggling with new vigor when his pace seemed to match the tranquil state Shinsou had.
“You’ll be more comfortable, there, too. As long as you can behave.” His hand grips your arm suddenly, eliciting a whimper from you and stops you from struggling
“Behave?” You repeat, only to feel your body go rigid and your mind to go white. He pats your cheek lightly, careful to not shake you from his control.
═══ ᴛᴏᴅᴏʀᴏᴋɪ sʜᴏᴛᴏ
▹ the world of heroes just wasn’t made for you
▹ he could see it now, from the panic in your eyes when the cameras flashed a little too close to your face, or when reporters as a questions that a tad too personal
▹ thankfully, he was there
▹ as he gets older, he’s less awkward. more comfortable around himself and his peers
▹ he guides you through the crowd like a knight in shining armor, elbows locked as he leads you into the doors of the gala
▹ like a gentleman. just like his mother taught him
▹ and he remained at your side throughout the night, whether you realized or not
▹ god did you remind him of his mom
▹ so kind. docile. accommodating and kind. everything he wanted. everything he couldn’t have.
▹ he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, he does, but he really just can’t help it!
══
It would be too easy to take you now. While you’re an inebriated, giggling mess. It would raise too many questions, since he offered to escort you home. Shoto would be the last person you saw. He has to be smart about this, if he wants it to last.
But… you look so cute, hanging off of his arm in order to keep yourself upright- cheeks warm and eyes half-lidded.
He wishes he could dive in right now, take you back to his home and keep you there forever. He’s made all the preparations, gotten new locks for the doors and a special room full of your favorite things for when he isn’t home. He just has to be patient.
Someone whistling lowly at you is the last straw, he thinks. It’s hard to remember when all you see is red.
Shoto finds himself bringing you to his home, instead. A push, that’s all he needed. The reminder that the outside world just wasn’t for you; innocent, sweet, pure.
Everything was dirty except for you. He was doing everyone a favor, by keeping you locked away. You wouldn’t have to suffer with anyone corrupt like his father, wouldn’t have to witness the downfall of someone as great as his eldest brother, wouldn’t have to bear the weight of the unkind like his mother.
No, he’d make sure you would remain untainted for as long as he lived. And that starts with laying you on a plush mattress in a room deep inside his estate.
You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow, but that’s alright. He’s ready to introduce you to your new lifestyle when you awake.
160 notes
·
View notes
Guys I just wrote my first fic.
I mean, I’ve written fics before, but never finished them. But I was struck by inspiration and I’ve been trying harder to write while the muse is there because you never know when she’ll leave and not come back. I’m so excited to share this with you.
You can read it on AO3 here (2479 words btw) or read it below. I’d love it if you checked it out :)
-
It was safe to say that Luke’s mind was near constantly full to the brim with music. As a songwriter, it was one of his favorite parts of himself. He had notebooks galore, all chock-full of half-written verses and melodies he hummed once in the shower and chord progressions he’d heard in a dream.
Usually, once he freed them from his mind via his pen, they were gone, saved in ink on the page. He would come back to them, to draw inspiration, to weave pieces together, to fashion them into full-fledged songs eventually.
There was always the one song that stuck around, though. It would never leave him, no matter how hard he tried.
He would hear pieces bouncing around between his ears. Sometimes it was a drum beat. Sometimes he heard snippets of words. Sometimes it was two voices, his and another always unrecognizable one, blending more beautifully than he would’ve thought possible as their two sounds danced together.
The Song had always been there, since before Luke could remember. At first there wasn’t much, just three notes that repeated over and over. One day, five more came to accompany them. As he had grown older, he’d learned what The Song meant.
Luke’s parents loved to sing their Song to one another, or they would sing it by themselves when they were alone to feel the other’s presence with them. It was a beautiful sound, and Luke loved hearing it. He asked his mom to sing their Song to him each night before bed for far more years than he would ever admit to Alex, Reggie, or Bobby.
When Luke tried to sing his parents’ Song, either by himself or with them, he’d found he never could. Even though he’d heard it a million times, his mind couldn’t recreate any part of it.
Luke would get frustrated and pout, but his mom would kneel down and smile at him.
“That’s because it isn’t your Song,” she’d told him. “Your father and I get to share this with each other and with other people, and it’s something that’s just ours. You have your own Song, and it’s just yours. One day you’ll find the person you get to share it with.”
Luke knew from middle school that he wanted to be a musician. He’d always been crafting songs, even while his own Song taunted him in its incompleteness.
When he’d gotten his first guitar for Christmas in seventh grade, another gift had come with it: more of The Song. He didn’t know which gift he valued more.
Luke learned how to play chords and arpeggios. He learned techniques while his hands learned the dexterity they needed. He developed muscle memory and honed an ability for transcribing music from his ears to his fingers.
The more he learned, the more his mind seemed to go wild with ideas at possibilities for songs. He started collecting notebooks. He always had one near or on his person with a pen also within reach. They filled haphazardly at the whims of Luke’s imagination.
Luke would play his ideas on his guitar and let them drift through his bedroom. They’d grow on their own and become more. It never felt like Luke was writing them, they just came to him.
His parents called it a gift.
When he wasn’t playing his songs, Luke was playing his Song. It burned into his mind. When he didn’t know where to go next with a piece, his fingers would always bring him back home.
The four boys started a band together. They met in Bobby’s garage and played their hearts out. Luke collected stray ideas all together to form and fill in coherent songs that they would play.
They sounded good.
The boys all knew about each other’s Songs by then. Reggie’s had a country twang to it that drove Luke crazy. He liked to play his Song’s chord progressions on his bass, but he was learning the banjo too to help him fill out the sound in his head. Alex was always humming his between reps and during set up and tear down, lost in his own world. It was soft and sweet, like a lullaby. When he got anxious, he would tap out rhythms and vocalize melodies to help calm himself down. Bobby’s Song was energetic and exciting, a sharp contrast to his shy self. He liked to play it on his electric before practices started and would always be finishing up just as the boys came into the garage, so they never heard much more than that which would seep out into the backyard.
None of them ever tried to replicate each other’s Songs. Songs were personal, they were intimate. Anyway, it wasn’t like they could recreate them, even if they tried.
Luke tried one night to transpose his Song to paper, but it never worked. His pen would hover above the sheet but never write anything at all. He tried to get something, anything, even just a word down, but it wouldn’t come out, determined to stay only inside his head. That was what Songs did.
They named their band Sunset Curve and started playing gigs. Other people liked their music, too.
Bobby became less shy when he was on stage, drawing energy from his Song to create a confidence that he would wear. Alex let out his anxiety on the drumset in a different way than how his Song would relieve his anxiety but which ended up helping just the same. Reggie wrote more country music in his free time. Sunset Curve never played it.
Luke grew older. His voice deepened and matured. One afternoon in the middle of practice, he stopped playing. The other three petered out once they noticed.
“Luke?” Alex asked from behind the set. “You okay?”
There was a voice singing his Song now. His voice was singing his Song.
“Yeah,” Luke smiled and assured. He didn’t explain what happened.
But after practice, he was humming again, a tune which complimented what they’d heard him play before. Reggie, Bobby, and Alex shared a grin while Luke wasn’t looking.
All four of them were in the music program at their high school. There were a lot of talented students in their class.
In junior year, there were a bunch of new freshmen who came up into the class. They showed a lot of promise. Sunset Curve became friends with a group of four of the freshmen. Their groups meshed well as eight, but they also all found a complement within themselves. Alex and Carrie liked to dance together. Reggie and Flynn explored new music genres and played pranks on the other six. Bobby and Nick became study partners. And Luke? Luke had Julie.
She was...well, she was Julie. She wasn’t afraid to be herself and wore it proudly, with her butterfly hair clips and dozen friendship bracelets and doodled shoes.
Reggie suggested that their group of eight should have a name. Flynn was unamused by Bobby’s suggestion of “Octuple Trouble”.
Luke wondered what the four freshmen’s Songs sounded like. He never asked. Songs were intimate, and lots of people were shy about other people hearing them. Songs revealed the deepest parts of your soul.
Luke knew that his soul was pure music and music alone.
Besides his parents and his brothers, no one ever heard Luke’s Song. No one else needed to hear his Song. It was his.
Julie, Carrie, and Flynn showed the boys how to make friendship bracelets. They explained how you made them for each other and then tied it on each other’s wrists so they would never come off as long as the friendship would last. Luke thought he would be embarrassed by wearing friendship bracelets and how it would clash with his style of jean chains and cutoff tees and metal rings, but somehow he wasn’t. They all eight hung out at Carrie’s house and tied bracelets for hours that night, with Star Wars playing in the background on the TV at Reggie and Nick’s requests. By the time they were finished, beads were in mis-matched piles on the ottomans and slivers of tape and string sprinkled the floor. It was one of the best nights of their lives.
Luke wore his bracelets proudly. They were dorky, but they were so them and Luke loved them. He had a purple and blue knotted pattern from Julie, and an orange and green one with beads that read B-I-C-E-P-S---M-C-G-E-E from Flynn.
Carrie made Alex something pink that Luke never saw closely. They’d spent the whole evening with her teaching him some fancy pattern of knots that would make a picture, so theirs matched one another’s.
Luke didn’t see what Bobby, Nick, or Reggie had made or for whom. He’d been too focused on his bracelet for Julie. He tried to channel all of his love for the friendship he’d found with her and with all eight of them into the strings, but his fingers that normally were so dextrous and able on the guitar couldn’t hold the strands with the right tension and it ended up a mess.
She loved it and wore it anyway.
Luke eventually had one bracelet from each person in Octuple Trouble and had given one to each person in turn.
Luke’s Song still plagued his mind day-in and day-out. Every day it felt it was more complete. He heard it all the way through now, but even still it wasn’t complete. There was always his guitar playing, but there was another instrument dueting his. Luke knew what the instrument was in his heart but he couldn’t name it when he tried. It was just...there. A sound that he knew better than any other but it was also different than anything he’d ever heard before. He heard his voice singing all the words, and he heard another voice, too, but it belonged to nobody. The other voice was the biggest mystery to him. It made him feel like he was home but like he didn’t know where home was.
A few months into junior year, Julie changed. She became more reserved and stopped playing in music class. Luke knew why. He didn’t know how he could help, though. He tried to just be there, and to make sure she knew he always would be.
Sunset Curve was gaining a reputation and playing more and more gigs.
Carrie started her own group, Dirty Candi. At some point she cut off all of her bracelets. Alex still went to all of their performances to support her.
Julie and Flynn stayed closer than ever before, but the rest of them...drifted.
A part of Luke fractured alongside their group. He was pretty sure a part of each of the rest of them did, too.
Senior year started and the eight of them felt practically like strangers once more. They were still all in music class, but it was different. It had been different for a long time. Nick and Bobby didn’t study together anymore. Alex and Carrie still hung out, but Reggie and Flynn hadn’t pranked anyone since November. Luke missed Julie.
Alex came to practice late one afternoon in September with wonder in his eyes and voice about a skateboarder he’d met.
“Well, he sort of ran into me...literally, and we both fell down. And I scraped up my hands pretty bad on the concrete trying to catch myself-” Alex showed them the bandaged heels of his palms “- and it stung, like, really bad. You know how I have that nervous habit where I hum my Song when I’m anxious? Yeah, okay, so I started to do that while he apologized and grabbed band-aids out of his pocket - I don’t know why he had band-aids, Reggie, probably because he gets scrapes pretty often too. But so I was humming my Song, and he started humming it too.”
Luke wondered what it felt like to hear your other half complete you.
A year after Julie changed back in junior year, she changed again. She came back. She played in class again and Luke was once again in awe of the power packed into this sophomore. He’d forgotten just how amazing she was. He didn’t know what had triggered this return, but he didn’t care. She was back.
Three weeks later, Luke was looking for Mrs. Harrison. He needed her to sign some form for him for his guidance counselor, something about graduation requirements. Luke hadn’t been paying attention.
He had his hand on the handle to the music room and was about to twist it open before he heard a sound from inside.
Three notes, repeated. Five notes. The whole sequence repeated once more.
Any thoughts of forms fell from his mind. Luke opened the door with a fervor he’d never experienced before. He rushed into the room but only made it two steps in before his shoes squeaked to a halt on the wooden floor.
Luke locked eyes with Julie. She sat behind the piano, in a black dress he’d never seen before.
The paper in his hand fluttered to the floor. Wordlessly, Luke crossed the room and picked up Mrs. Harrison’s acoustic guitar. He slipped the strap over his neck and faltered. What if he was wrong?
He took a deep breath and pushed his doubts down.
Luke turned around and saw Julie, who was watching him with a concerned curiosity.
No turning back. No regrets.
Luke’s hands started playing the first song he’d ever played. The song he’d played a billion times. It was etched into his dreams and it framed his every thought. Luke played his Song.
Julie’s eyes widened in recognition and her jaw dropped open.
Luke started singing and that seemed to spring Julie out of her stupor. Her fingers started moving across the keys in chords that accompanied his plucking.
She picked up the verse where he left off and Luke was hearing The Song for the first time. The other instrument that melded with his was the piano underneath Julie’s fingers. The other voice was hers.
Luke could see it in her eyes. She felt it, too.
Home.
It was exhilarating.
They filled the music room with their Song - no longer his, it was theirs - but the entire world was just them two. Nothing else existed but their music together.
Luke walked around the side of the piano while he played so he could be closer to Julie. He saw his god-awful friendship bracelet on her wrist while she played and smiled at the part of her that he carried on his, too.
That wasn’t the only part of her he’d been carrying, he realized.
Their Song.
Wow.
The two of them drew to a close, out of breath with amazement.
We create
A perfect harmony
They locked eyes. They were home.
@pink-flame @thedeathdeelers surprise you’re on my taglist
30 notes
·
View notes
Keep him safe - Chapter 34
You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Ch 25, Ch 30, previous chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you, The Dreamer
Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil
Words: 9.007
Warnings: Roman and Virgil’s horny thoughts (not explicit), slight mention of cross dressing, scratches, political criticism, cursing – let me know if I forgot one!
Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however, feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!
Notes: Thanks to @sebthesnipe for proof reading even though she is the busiest person in the world and to @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 for being amazing and running the KHS Discord server for two amazing years now.
Chapter 34
“Hey asshole, pick your shit up! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Virgil screeched at the unsuspecting dog walker from his spot at the front door of their apartment building, already seething with anger. He’d just gotten back from his early morning training at Talyn’s place and had been looking forward to finishing it with Logan, who was currently on his run. And now this dirtbag was getting all up in this shit – or… Virgil was getting up in the dude’s shit. Well sue him!
The man startled, looking down at the cigarette butt he’d tossed to the ground carelessly.
“What’s wrong with me? You can’t just call me an asshole over nothing! Who do you think you are? Where I throw my fags is none of your business.”
Oh, that had been a mistake.
Virgil abandoned his attempt to unlock the door and got right into the man’s face, ignoring the bulldog happily yaping around his heels. He was so ready for this.
“Over NoThInG? Listen up, you hollow walnut!”
Before he could start ranting properly, a familiar tall man wearing a band tee with a ripped collar, no shoes and wild eyes materialized next to him.
“Oohh yay, are we throwing away our stuff???” He cheered, immediately emptying his pockets and throwing everything on the ground with glee. Bloody tissues, clothespins, a folding knife, crumbling dog treats (immediately slobbered away by enthusiastic dog) and a worn, tiny bible. Papers immediately started spilling out of it – some filled with scribbled thoughts or to do lists, others with faded printouts. In his back pockets he found a bunch of candy wrappers he immediately threw up to rain around himself, unintentionally tossing a pocket Quran along with it which he hastily fumbled with so not to drop it.
Virgil ducked out of the radius of his debris, as usual weirded out and awed in equal parts by professor Duke. The dog-walker looked at him like he’d just bitten off his own foot.
“The hell? Fags aren’t the same as your garbage, you crazy freak!” The man exclaimed, thoroughly disturbed.
“No, dude. They’re much worse!” Virgil growled, ignoring Remus trying to free his fingers from a distressed looking worm on a string he’d gotten tangled in. Quite a few people had stopped to watch them, yet with the professor cheerfully making a scene next to him, Virgil managed to keep his head high despite the heat and anxiety making his heart race.
“Cigarette butts contain over 4000 toxic substances and are virtually indestructible.” The young delinquent hissed. “The filters are made of a plastic called cellulose acetate and they take 10 years to decompose completely- just one of those fucks poisons one cubic meter of water and kills all the fucking fish in it.”
“You should pick it up, friend. Before I get ideas about where to put it out.” Remus cooed sweetly, before ruining the elegant subtly of his threat by becoming way too graphic.
“In your face!” He screeched, flailing grandly and wiggling his fingers, the bulldog distracting him by nosing at his pockets, hoping for more treats. Its owner used the chance to sullenly grab his cigarette stub and get away.
“You shouldn’t have a doggy-dog if you can’t handle being a clean boy!” Remus hollered after him, way too loud and shameless. “Do you not wipe your ass after you take a shit either? You naughty, dirty boy? Is it a sex thing? That is the one sex thing you keep in your bedroom!”
Virgil was blushing thoroughly, not enjoying the attention despite the righteous fire still fueling his anger. What the fuck was wrong with people throwing their garbage on the ground? What were they thinking? Not only did somebody else have to pick it up, it also fell apart to become microplastic and the nicotine, tar and heavy metals – all 4.5 trillion of them that were thrown away each year. Fuck smokers who did that! They were what was wrong with the word! Seriously, could you be any more of a useless human if they were not even able to throw their trash away properly? Full offense, Virgil wanted to kick them in the face.
People were staring and murmuring around them and though he didn’t feel bad about his reaction, his heart was still in his throat at all the attention.
“What? Are you not entertained enough, you mindless sheep?” Remus roared brightly, spreading his arms and bouncing up and down on his toes, placing himself in front of the younger man. “Would you like me to sing you a song about the misfortunes of little Jimmy who doesn’t pick up his litter? Spoilers – he gets eaten by an octoshaaaark!”
He struck a dramatic pose and drew a deep breath. People started fleeing.
“Aw dang.” Remus pouted.
Virgil chuckled, feeling surprising affection well up in him. Remus was scary, yeah, definitely, but he was also an ally to his cause, and that meant a lot to him.
Crouching down and using the opportunity to let his hair fall over his face, he started picking up the non-bloody articles Logan’s neighbor had scattered on the ground.
“Why do you have a bible and a copy of the constitution?” He asked, trying to shake the paper from his fingers and finding it disconcertingly sticky. Was that a cough drop? Ugh, he’d have to disinfect his whole body.
“For arguments with conservatives!” Remus answered happily. “I like slapping them in the face with the dick that is my arguments every time they go all bibly-christiany on me! They don’t love the fact that Jesus was a sandal wearing liberal that much – a lot like I am, actually! Not that facts work well with them – I found that barking and bending over backwards with your tongue lolling out works best. Makes an impression!”
He’d settled down next to Virgil cross-legged, bouncing his knees, and started munching on the dry little cookie thingies the bulldog had missed. “Dog treat?” He asked generously, holding one out.
“Why?” Virgil asked, completely bewildered. They were, indeed, little bone shaped dog treats.
“I like the way they crunch!”
“…okay.”
Virgil still tried to make sense of the interaction he was currently having and found that using facts was indeed a lost cause with many republicans – which in this case was a generous euphemism for racists and Nazis, so one could just as well try what the crazy man did. Not everyone deserved to have a stage, after all.
Quietly, he examined the other. The ripped T-shirt made the wide collar slip down one of his skinny shoulders and the jeans he wore had definitely seen better days. His dark skin didn’t do much to hide the bluish shadows under his eyes. And also his naked, dirty feet were disgusting.
Dumping the stuff he’d picked up into the professor’s lap, he stood up. “Take a shower and come up at twelve, I’m making veggie burgers.”
There would be so much complaining once Roman found out he’d invited Remus.
***
Logan ran a hand through his sweaty hair, pulling the damp, raven locks out of his face. His muscles were burning pleasantly from his run and he was looking forward to his post workout stretch with Virgil. It would be illogical not to use the knowledge of an experienced gymnast for advice, after all. Though his little delinquent was still shy about it, the detective found he appeared to enjoy exercising together, as long as they were doing it in the safety of Virgil’s room where he could comfortably hide in his oversized sweaters.
His thoughts amusedly circled back to the way Virgil had to shake his hands free from his overly long sleeves whenever he reached for his feet while he fumbled his keys free from the little pocket sewn into his close-fitting trousers. As usual, Logan fetched the mail on his way up, sighing as a stack of colorful envelopes fell into his hands. Glitter rained down from one of them. With more gentleness than he felt inclined to, he beat the stack of bulging papers against the side of the building to loosen the shimmering plastic particles. Did this action constitute a case of littering, he wondered. He resolved to bring down his vacuum cleaner to deal with the mess after his shower.
On his way up, the detective separated the pile into his and Roman’s mail, ending up with sensibly sized, white envelopes in one hand, and a bunch of offensively colored, suspiciously rattling, sticker covered, perfumed fan mail his partner was greedily waiting for. He kicked the professor’s apartment door closed as he passed it, satisfied to hear him mumbling over the running shower in the also open bathroom.
Roman was already lurking in the opened door to Logan’s own apartment like a silk-clad dragon looking to expand his hoard, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. Logan rolled his eyes. Despite having received letters for a week already, he was still overly enthusiastic about them every day. And he still refused to get them himself, instead he let Logan hand them to him exasperatedly like some strange ceremony.
The young detective snatched the pile eagerly, pouting as Logan held back two of them, not liking the powdery, sandy sound they were making when he tilted them. It was likely more beads or glitter, yet they still went into the box by the door to be checked in the lab (as they all should). He had ordered the post office whose address the fan-mail was sent to, to be extra vigilant before delivering the mail to his apartment, but he would most certainly not put the safety of his family at risk. He wondered, once again, whether he ought to borrow a service dog to check the mail for – preferably the rest of their lives actually.
“Look, Patton fairest, what the wind has blown in!” Roman sang cheerfully, twirling around the baker gracefully and then taking him for a spin and dip.
Patton giggled, stumbling and holding on to the tall detective, getting his lovely curls all tangled up in the frame of his glasses.
Smiling contently, Logan slunk into Virgil’s room to engage in what he hoped to turn into a routine. The young man was already waiting for him – playing on his phone curled up on the dresser between the planet lights he had kept, hair curling slightly with dampness from his private routine in Talyn’s gym he was slowly taking up again.
Meanwhile, Roman flopped onto the couch and yanked Patton into his arms enthusiastically, wanting to share his happiness and also maybe trying to distract him a little bit from his preparations for his return to the café. He wanted to support his friend, he really did, but he couldn’t help trying to put off unpleasant tasks for as long as possible instead of facing them. It was an issue he’d always had – one that had driven Logan half-crazy before he’d started to deal with many of those tasks himself and handed over others to Roman instead. They were making it work.
Roman didn’t actually have to do anything for the café, but the plan to reopen it, no matter how much Patton needed it, still made him antsy. Trevor-the-villainous-fiend could be lurking there. Who knew what could happen? After all, they had neatly avoided any contact, despite how often he had secretly talked the little baker out of calling him in the night when he’d been frightened and guilty. Which had been a lot of times. Better not tell Logan about that.
Well, distracting himself until the problem went away or got horribly unavoidable was a strategy that had gotten him through life just fine (now that he had Logan to read his paperworky-mail which he had an almost insurmountable aversion against dealing with), so he cuddled the baker close and settled in for some pleasant distractions.
Patton probably knew what he was doing, considering the way he pushed their cheeks together and hummed sweetly. Ugh, Roman felt so loved, it was too much for words. He squeezed Patton’s little body at his side closer to himself, just needing to hold on so suddenly. He loved him so much his heart was pounding with it. Feeling giddy with it, Roman jiggled and rocked them happily, delighting in the laugh he elicited.
“Alrighty, my most precious Patton, shall we discover the adoration of my beloved fans together?” The young man cheered, bright with eagerness.
“Yes! Now that I’m enveloped in a hug letters begin!”
Pulling his legs close to curl comfortably into Roman’s hug, and lean against his warm, broad chest, Patton selected the first envelope – a loudly patterned lilac one. Roman ripped it open with childish pleasure.
“Ohhhhhhhh!” He cooed, the sound almost too high for a man this large. “Isn’t this the most delightful thing you have ever seen, my fairest friend?!”
He was unfolding a drawing of himself in full superhero regalia, cape and sash and all, clearly drawn by a little child. Picture Roman was holding hands with a little kid each – a dark skinned girl in a princess dress and a blonde child of indeterminable gender due to the quality of the drawing. They were wearing a knight’s armor with a lightsaber as much as he could tell. It was adorable and Patton was putting it on the fridge. His eyes were watering at how cute it was.
“Oh.my.god. Virgil, my starry night, come here and see this!” Roman howled, very close to Patton’s ear.
The grumbling from next door indicated the delinquent’s feeling about the nickname as well as the interruption.
Roman waved the letter around with so much enthusiasm it nearly dislodged Patton. With a squeak, the baker held on to the tall man’s neck, even though the strong arm around his waist held him safely where he was almost pulled into Roman’s lap entirely.
Virgil, dressed in a mix of his old gymnastics’ clothes and his newer, oversized hoodie that hid as much as possible and fell all the way over his hips, didn’t really feel like being seen by the attractive detective right now. He didn’t mind Logan seeing him in his pants that fit his toned, long legs like a second skin, but with Roman, he felt a little more self-conscious. Especially about the combination with the ratty, overly long hoodie.
He used to wear tight fitting shirts that he now knew could look quite enticing when they slipped up his middle as he stretched or exposed his shoulders, but he didn’t feel confident enough to pick them out himself anymore. He wanted to look pretty for Roman more with every day, but considering the way the man had seen him in the past, he didn’t know if he could pull it off. Maybe Roman would feel like he was dressing up like a whore again - wearing a costume to seduce him. He didn’t know what made him so reluctant to dress better, it was just – such a big step and he didn’t know how to go about it anymore. So he wrapped his arms around his middle and hoped not to look too annoyed and uncomfortable. Especially considering how happy Roman appeared. So bright and innocent.
He was radiant.
And he was reading fan mail.
Virgil didn’t love the fan mail. Not at all. Remy had been forced to listen about it for a long time. He just hated the thought of those dirty minded, thirsty bitches getting to tell his man about all of the horny things they came up with while they drooled over his pictures. The fuck was wrong with them, trying to steal his- his- argh Virgil hated them with a passion, okay?! Who knew what ideas they were putting into that beautiful idiot’s head?
Remy was still patient with him thought, however the fuck he managed to do it. Virgil had the feeling he was being indulgently laughed at when he raged about the letters over the phone. So what if he hadn’t actually read any of them?! Roman kept singing their praise to anyone who would listen, why would he need to look at them himself? He was sure they were every bit as awful as he imagined.
Roman looked too happy with them. Fuck that.
He really looked quite happy, actually.
Virgil slowed his steps suspiciously.
Giggling, Roman flattened the paper before his eyes to read to Virgil. He even tried to do the voice. A voice Virgil immediately recognized.
‘Tell my anxious doll to, like, not to be such a moody diva and come look at some cute fan mail with his eye-candy detective.’ Roman took a break to preen. ‘I promise you don’t have to be scared, babe. Y’all are just making tasks bigger and scarier by avoiding confrontation with unpleasant chores and then they, like, build up in your messy little minds and that is not cool cause it makes me work for my not-money. So have a letter written by my precious little baby girl angels as a treat, okay girlfriend?’
“Awwwww so sweet!” Patton sighed.
Roman looked thoughtful for a moment as he pulled out the third sheet of paper written with a rainbow pencil, probably by Emile since the girls were too little to write themselves. The words were all enthusiastic little girl, though.
“How would you feel about looking at just one or two letters with us before returning to my dearest partner?” Roman asked sweetly. “They truly are quite entertaining. Just yesterday I received one from the utterly ravishing miss Van der Beek. All her other friends promised to write as well. It turns out I am quite popular with distinguished ladies with more experience enjoying the finer things in life!”
“What he means to say, kiddo, is that old ladies just love our dashing prince. Most of those are sent by the cutest grannies from retirement homes.” Patton explained with a warm smile that was just a little mischievous. “That doesn’t mean they’re all innocent, though.” He added cheerfully. Truthfully, he was already itching to get his hands on the hilarious letters. Those ladies really weren’t shy and Patton secretly wanted to be just like them someday. Enjoying the good life and making the best puns about butts.
Roman didn’t mind the fact that most of his paper-mail was written by children and elderly women (and grandpas, sometimes). He received emails and even digital art from younger fans as well, and he adored them, so, so much, but since he couldn’t keep them in a box with the pictures and drawings and ribbons and whatnot he enjoyed the letters even more. He just loved how creative they were. They really made him feel special. He should have known they’d make his dearest raven anxious, though. He really hoped to put him at ease with this gentle introduction Remy had created for him. And it worked! Of course it did – Remy’s children were the most precious things in the world! He could barely wait for their play date next weekend!
He was a little relieved to find the other letters they opened to be just as fun and cute. They usually were. Patton had a talent for selecting the nice ones from looking at the envelope alone. Not all letters were super sweet of course, but that was why he rarely opened his fan-mail alone. Both Patton and Logan made the creepy ones disappear quite quickly. Virgil could handle those, Roman was sure, but there was one person whose letters would just upset his dear wildcat.
They’d come in fine, yellow envelopes with pressed yellow roses inside and were written in the most beautiful calligraphy he’d ever seen. Recognizing the handwriting on the outside, Roman had squirrelled them away quietly. He hadn’t been able to stop running his fingers over the gracefully curved ink and flowing, tender words for a long time. Guiltily, Roman kept them in a separate box. He didn’t know how to contact his nemesis/admirer and wanted to let them down gently, after all. Before he caught them to lock them away, of course. He just wasn’t entirely ready to give up this feeling. He’d never been courted this way before and it had softened him towards his nemesis.
Virgil returned to Logan more relieved than he had been before, especially since Miss Van der Beek’s friends had come through and had written the most outrageous fan-mail. Roman huddled up comfortably, opening one last letter with Patton before lunch. It was a square, heavy envelope made from cream colored thick, expensive paper. The card inside was heavy and decorated with ornate, delicate gold finishing on the curved corners. It opened in the middle and admitted a view of a beautifully printed card. It read
Invitation
to the Morgan’s annual charity ball 2020
at the Ritz Carlton
All the air seemed to have left the room. The paper tilted in front of Roman’s eyes and slipped from his numb fingers.
*
“I just don’t understand – after all those years…” Roman stared at the invitation, almost vibrating with nervous energy. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his father’s face turn to stone as he refused to change his ways after nana’s burial. Even after such a long time, it was still crystal clear in his mind.
He wanted to jump up and pace frantically, yet he couldn’t bear to lose the grounding touch of the men gathered around him. Patton had pressed himself against his side as tightly as possible while Logan stood over him, tall and solid, keeping a firm hand on the back of his neck. Only Virgil was sitting with some distance between them since he was clearly too upset to soothe anyone. The golden embossed paper seemed to cause his fury to boil over almost entirely by itself. He looked pale and angry and… he snatched Roman’s sleeve with a thin hand, holding on tightly. His eyes were dark and so hurt on Roman’s behalf.
“They chased me away. Why would they want me there now?” He asked softy, looking at his family with a lost, helpless gaze.
The young detective agonized over the invitation for most of the day, carrying it around and reading it over and over again. Even the presence of Remus during lunch didn’t manage to get a rise out of him in this distraction, which clearly made the professor sulk. Especially since he had a few words to say about those republicans! Thankfully, Virgil and Logan made him some calming herbal tea after lunch (leaf piss, in his opinion but okay), and spent some time debating the advantages of actually murdering and eating the rich while nesting on Logan’s cozy balcony. Patton took Roman’s hand to go on a walk to help him clear his head. It helped.
“A Prince doesn’t shy away from a challenge. I owe it to my pride to go. I can and will do this with my head held high!” He proclaimed proudly at the dinner table the same night. Patton squeezed his hand in support, smiling at him warmly.
*
“I can’t do this! What was I thinking???” Roman wheezed, trying to calm his racing heart the next morning. “This is the height of hubris – I have fallen victim to the folly of man! There is no way I’m going!” He howled, pulling on his hair and staring at the letter like it would explode. What had he been thinking???
*
By midday, Roman proudly projected his voice through the entire flat from his perch on the coffee table. “I will be proud and gallant and dazzle everyone with my charming compliments and dashing appearance and my family shall be devastated to see what they missed when they threw away their most glittery offspring!”
His figure was bathed in the brightest sunlight. His fears forgotten, Roman was ready to take on anything!
*
“What if it was a mistake? Is this a mistake?” Roman wailed, flailing around with the mangled invitation in hand only an hour later. His eyes were wild. He’d been carrying the expensive paper everywhere with him, swinging erratically between nervous episodes of self-doubt and fear of his father and loud and boisterous assertions of confidence. His hair had become an utter mess from running his hands through it during dramatic monologues and moments of insecurity alike. The others were trying to allow him to come to a decision himself, but the lovely detective appeared to be coping poorly with the freedom.
Half an hour later, he was once again standing on the couch, posing heroically.
“Finally they shall see what a marvelous protector their son has become! A shining knight! A handsome hero dressed in blue!” He boasted, wide eyed and clearly trying to convince himself of his own worth – even as he was asserting his superiority, he was slipping into a pit of self-hate.
Virgil wanted to kill someone.
Seeing this beautiful, confident man spiral so deeply into mental instability because of a letter was ripping him open inside with nowhere for the blood and fear to go but the boiling maelstrom that was his protective fury.
That wasn’t what Roman needed now, though. Taking a deep breath, the barista reached for his man.
Virgil grabbed a hold of Roman’s surprisingly trim waist and pulled his heavy body down next to him. His mood swings between elation and terror were wearing the young man thin. Resigned and too tired to overthink, he yanked the already slightly worn invitation from the tan hands, chucked it on the coffee table, and folded his body onto the large detective’s lap in the wild, desperate hope to pin him down finally. He seemed to love when Patton did it.
The bold move made him sweat with anxiety, yet it was a much more comfortable form of comfort than talking about the issue and ending up insulting Roman’s family as he so desperately wanted. Physical contact had helped calm Roman down most so far, but Logan wasn’t here to grab his partner in a silent, firm hug that squished him against his chest until he grew quiet and Patton was on the phone with his staff, so no tangling his soft limbs with Roman’s now either.
Virgil had tried to keep his distance from the issue after Remy had explained that Roman needed to make his own decision. He probably hadn’t meant brooding in silent fury (while telling Patton what he was angry about and awkwardly reminding him that he loved him all the time).
He couldn’t help hating that republican trash that was Roman’s parents even more than before, though. He wasn’t confused about their motivations for a second. Those filthy pieces of shit were sensing an opportunity to improve their reputation with millennials who were rallying against billionaires who exploited the world – the environment as much as their workers – without even paying fucking taxes. Seriously, fuck Trump, fuck Jeff Bezos, fuck the Morgans! They would try to use Roman’s fame and honesty to claim him as a token to show off to liberals, to make themselves look tolerant and likeable with their beautiful, gay hero son. He was acceptable when it was useful to have a diversity card they could pull in debates, now that their homophobia and racism wasn’t as accepted as it used to be. Fuck them with a broken chair.
He couldn’t say all that, though. He’d just make Roman defensive in this terrible way that left Virgil nothing to work with. The taller man was never aggressive with him. Instead he grew quiet and sad and tried to make Virgil feel safe by being submissive and gentle and letting him have his way as he swallowed all of his pain and fear for everyone else’s sake. Roman didn’t need his anger. Logan had already gently told him about all of the fears he and Virgil shared and had offered his support, he didn’t need a reality check Virgil was desperately holding back. Roman knew they were using him – intellectually at least. Yet, his heart was probably hoping they were finally willing to love him.
So Virgil pulled himself together and silently leaned his lithe body against Roman’s broad chest and tried to gather the courage to say yes to the lovely man’s unspoken question.
The invitation contained a plus one.
Virgil had seen the way Roman’s gaze had sought him out hopefully. He wanted him there, which was astonishingly sweet, since Virgil was… well. Virgil. The fact that Roman, who was beautiful and elegant and charming to a dazzling degree wanted to show Virgil on his arm when he knew how judgmental this fucking crowd was, when he knew what they would think…
Yes, it was also completely and utterly terrifying.
Seriously. A charity ball. At the fucking Ritz? Even young and not so messed up Virgil would have hated the thought with the passion of any idealistic, liberal activist. Fucking corrupt money bags trying to look like they cared while they marinated in their arrogance and wealth while kids in America couldn’t pay for their school lunch and went hungry. While they supported putting fricking kids in actual fucking cages seriously what the fuck this really was the cursed time-line.
Also was there a person alive on this planet who fit the aesthetic of the fucking Ritz less than he did? He didn’t think so. Fuck he needed Remy now. He’d promised to help, thank Tesla. Virgil was clinging to that voice in his memory that had told him to ‘breathe, doll. Daddy has fixed lots of tiny girl hair and fashion disasters in his time. We’ve got this, okay, babe?’
Sure. Dressing a feral bat like Virgil for a FUCKING BALL was a piece of cake.
Well, first he needed to see if Roman actually wanted him to come or if that had all been in his head and Virgil was about to humiliate himself so badly, he would have to move out and change his name. Maybe Roman hadn’t asked yet because he wanted to avoid pressuring him with something he knew he was anxious about. OR he had recognized how badly Virgil would look on his arm.
Virgil felt like he couldn’t breathe for a terrifying moment. He used his position in Roman’s lap he’d chosen in a moment of courage to hide his face against the tan, smooth skin of the detective’s neck.
A deep breath left the taller man as Virgil curled close. He wrapped his arms around the thin body and sunk against him gratefully. The purple mane was so soft against his cheek. All thoughts drifted away – invitations as much as sunflower-yellow letters – leaving only the sensation of warm breaths against his skin and a gracefully curved back under his palms. Everything seemed to quiet, to slow down.
Virgil’s body moved slightly with every breath. He was so warm and alive, such a grounding weight in his lap. He arched against his chest willingly to press himself closer, letting Roman feel the way his ribs expanded on every inhale. The darkness behind the young detective’s closed eyes felt soft and safe. He gently moved his palm over the prominent spine, between wing-like shoulder blades. Stress flowed from his body like water. Slowly, their embrace lost its purpose and became lazy and comfortable, a hug for no other purpose than allowing them to exist so close to each other.
After what felt like a long time of soft tenderness, Roman felt Virgil tense again, knowing he had to get it over with. He couldn’t keep hiding in a cute cop’s arms for the rest of his life because he was embarrassed.
“Listen, man…” He murmured quietly, pulling back slightly. Despite Roman’s hands still resting loosely on his hips, now that he wasn’t curled up and hidden anymore, he felt silly and out of place, suddenly. He really had just sat down in Roman’s lap, huh? What the fuck, Virgil? Heat rose to his cheeks and that just made things a lot worse. He pushed his head down and braced his palms on that hard chest and barreled on.
“Uhm, about- about that invitation. I know you’re anxious about it, and I’m really not good with that shit – I mean – that’s obvious, considering-” He gestured to – all of himself self consciously. “I really don’t know anything about your, eh, your social class and those fancy parties and shit. We’re from pretty, pretty extremely different backgrounds after all, and-”
Roman’s large hand rose to tip Virgil’s blushing face up in order to reassure him (and because it made him feel like a chivalrous knight). His fingers found the pale delinquent’s throat instead. Feeling the racing pulse, he curled his hand around the slender neck right under the jawbone with utter gentleness and brushed it upwards, pushing his chin up slowly.
Virgil’s breath hitched upon feeling the intimate hold he was captured in. It would be easy for the grip to turn punishing, yet he only brushed his thumb over the edge of his jaw and that felt very, very good. Vulnerable in all the right ways.
“What are you trying to say, dearest?” Roman rumbled softly, catching the younger man’s attention from where it had wandered to inappropriate places.
“Uh…” Virgil needed a moment. Roman’s eyes were so vividly green, like sunlight filtered through freshly grown, thin leaves. His mascara made his lashes so long and dramatic and so pretty.
I, uh…” He stuttered again. Roman was biting his lip in amusement, so pleased to have muddled Virgil’s brilliant mind and the barista felt like a useless, horny teenager for the first time in too many years.
A chuckle escaped the detective that was deep and rumbled under Virgil’s palms. He looked at the young man in his lap like he was the sweetest thing.
Feeling his blush flare up, Virgil ducked his head, allowing Roman’s palm to slip onto his cheek. He didn’t force his chin up as he was composing himself. Instead, the manicured hand moved across pale skin and scratched lightly across his scalp. A shiver broke out and raced over the delinquent’s entire back. His mouth fell open in a pleased sigh as he leaned into the caress.
Hell yeah, he could just keep doing that forever, please and thank you. His large palm rested on the pronounced bones of his hip, gripping gently, safely. Virgil could feel the detective’s intense gaze on him like a physical touch. He felt very warm as he leaned closer to that powerful hand in his hair that gave him so much pleasure.
His flush was still hot on his cheeks, yet the heat rising under his clothes wasn’t caused by embarrassment despite the intimacy of the moment. He’d never thought he would be able to let his guard down and be looked at this intimately when Roman made him feel this way. The detective’s other hand moved slowly, brushing up and down his back in the lightest of touches.
Virgil couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped him. It was totally justified, okay? He felt those muscular thighs shift underneath him, adjusting their positions just a bit, so he was brought more securely into the hold of those strong arms and felt a warm breath on the side of his face.
Suddenly, Roman yanked his hand back as if Virgil had electrocuted him, yelping like a frightened dog. His whole body jumped, jostling Virgil.
“The fuck- Cat, what the actual fuck?” The younger man screeched at the ball of gray fur that had wedged itself between them and was furiously hissing and biting at Roman’s hand. The detective flailed and squirmed, unbucking Virgil in the process and dumping him on the cushions as he tried to escape over the back of the couch from the vicious raccoon. He landed face first with a ‘thump’ and an unmanly whimper.
Patton peeked in from the kitchen, phone between his cheek and shoulder, kitten purring in his big cardigan pocket and mixing bowl in hand. Finding Roman trying to twist into a sitting position while his legs were still sticking over the back of the couch and Virgil being slobbered over by an overly affectionate, possessive raccoon, he shrugged and closed the door behind himself. He and Nugget were not getting involved in that particular jealousy triangle. His kiddos would just need to make do.
“Oh shit, Roman, are you okay, dude?” Virgil asked and he knew, he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the laugh bubbling up his chest.
Cat was squishing her fat butt all over his lap, pawing at his shirt and lovingly gnawing on his fingers, looking fucking pleased, fricking narcissistic levels of proud and awed at her prowess, like she’d owned the biggest, baddest villain of the kingdom, like she’d saved the princess and gotten the whole cake. While Roman – well…
The young detective/tragic victim heaved himself up on the backrest and was immediately hissed at fiercely. He snatched his hands to his chest to protect them from more scratches. Peeking over the couch just enough to look over it, his precious hair a mess and his lovely hands badly wounded, donning his best, hurt puppy dog eyes, he found no sympathy from his beautiful wildcat.
Virgil snorted helplessly.
“I’m sorry-” The barista gasped, really, seriously feeling sorry and knowing he shouldn’t be rewarding Cat, he was creating a monster here, but Roman looked so messed up. All of that magnificent hair that usually made him look like a prince falling over his face in messy, fluffy tufts – that betrayed, gorgeous, hilarious face-
He doubled over, snickering turning to wheezing laughter the more he tried to suppress it, and felt Cat purring up a storm from where she was throned on his lap, Queen of the couch, breaker of horny cuddle sessions, bane of Roman’s existence.
Since the purring somehow seamlessly turned to spitting, frothing hissing whenever Roman got too close, the poor, beaten hero had to settle into the armchair facing the love of his life (stolen by a villainous adversary), where he tried not to mope too much. He felt a very justifiable pout coming up.
However, tears were now streaming down Virgil’s face while he made himself lightheaded trying to scold Cat and repress his laughter. He only succeeded in making himself hiccup and devolve into a new peal of giggles.
Roman melted into the armchair.
*
They were quietly folding blankets and putting away pillows, comfortable with each other even though Cat was still sitting in Virgil’s hoody, occasionally touching the back of his head and neck and gurgling threateningly.
It was alright.
Roman wasn’t a malicious man.
And he would get her back for this…
Glaring secretly at the bristly beast whenever Virgil wasn’t looking, the young detective finally remembered that they had started a conversation before their mutual attraction had overwhelmed them like swooning lovers in a romantic novel.
Giddy at the memory, he briefly amused himself with imagining them on a paperback cover – his own shirt open halfway over his gleaming, muscular chest, even longer hair flying in the breeze, Virgil fainting in his arms, pale and lovely in a Victorian dress – oh my lord. A flush rose hotly to his cheeks, especially as he imagined that trim waist encased in lace and possibly even a corset.
This time, he felt Cat was justified in hissing at him while she reached for him with sharp little paws, trying to take a swipe, craving destruction.
Thankfully, Virgil took his blush as a sigh of anger as he twisted around and saved the enthusiastically violent racoon from tumbling out of his hood in its quest for blood.
“Sorry, Dude. I’ll figure something out.” He promised.
Roman thought he didn’t look nearly alarmed enough. However… his little bird deserved all the valiant defenders he could get. The beast might make him feel safe while Roman wasn’t there to watch over him like the tireless defender he was. In principle, the young detective would not mind prospective rivals to be scared off. Just not himself, did this beast not have any taste?
Perhaps he’d just have to invest more effort in his quest to win over the scraggly protector of his dashing not-damsel’s honor! That he could surely do!
Filled with a new sense of determination, he maturely stuck his tongue out to the raccoon.
Virgil snorted. He was happy.
Roman liked that a lot.
“Before I forget…” He started casually, remembering how important the question had seemed to Virgil. “You wanted to ask me something before we were torn apart so viciously?”
The barista startled, his heart missing a beat with nervousness. Right. That.
“Um, yeah. Yeah, I was just- you don’t have to say yes – obviously! It’s just if you don’t want to go alone- though you probably have plenty of people to go with- I know you have friends and coworkers and… fans… and Logan could go too so you really don’t need me to be in the way but if you want, I – uh…”
“Virgil,” Roman interrupted him gently, hoping with a fluttering heart he wasn’t misinterpreting the stuttering proposition. “Are you offering to go to the ball with me?” He asked gently, quickly adding for his lovely raven’s nerves benefit, “Because while I don’t want to pressure you in any way, going with you on my arm would make me the bravest and happiest man in the world.”
His words were very, very honest. Having Virgil there, as his date, as his to hold in his arm and show off, showing that the gay failure of the family had captured the most beautiful, smartest and strongest creature in the whole word – he would feel like the king in his castle. Nothing could make him feel like he’d succeeded despite being ashamed of his sexuality for so long than to show Virgil as his beautiful prize. Having him would validate all his struggles and make all the suffering worth it.
So no pressure to say yes. Roman was cool with whatever.
Virgil flushed brightly, ducking his head in a familiar gesture to hide under his hair. His heart beat a mile a minute, filling him with awed elation.
And a little bit of terror.
Looks like he was going to the ball after all.
*************************************************
AAAAnd it looks like Virgil will finally need an outfit for the ball. I wonder who will help him???
As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated! If you want to support me, here is my Ko-fi page. Love you guys! Take care and treat yourself to something nice <3
Next Chapter
129 notes
·
View notes
After the Rain
Summary: In the wake of a storm, The Pogues pass the time playing truth or dare and, slowly, secret feelings are revealed.
A/N: I’ve never written anything like this before, so I would love feedback.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Outer Banks characters or settings.
*****************************************
The tail end of a storm was blowing over the Outer Banks. Dirty cotton wool clouds hung low in the sky and the angry gunfire of rain had finally begun to ease into a soothing staccato patter again the windowpanes. The muggy heat of the last month, that had previously pressed against the skin like wet clothes, had broken at last.
Inside The Chateau, The Pogues lounged, languid in the quiet calm the change in the weather had brought: John B and Sarah curled in a chair, Pope reading by the light from the window, Kie on the floor with a deck of cards playing solitaire and JJ on the sofa with a pile of balled up foil and candy wrappers, lazily aiming at a coffee mug abandoned on the floor earlier.
“Looks like it’s easing up out there,” Pope commented.
“Umm,” John B agreed. “Hopefully there won’t be too much property damage this time.”
“Still, the power will probably stay off for a while yet,” noted Kie.
“It will on The Cut, at least” huffed JJ, lobbing a balled-up foil wrapper across the room where it hit the rim of the mug and bounced off.
“We could play a game,” suggested Sarah. “My sister and I play one like Truth or Dare, but it’s just Truth. We could try that?”
“You know what would be better that Truth or Truth, Sarah?” said Kie smiling, “Truth or Dare.”
“Okay,” Sarah laughed, “I guess we can be more adventurous than Wheezie and I can in the backseat of our dad’s car on long journeys!”
“Okay sweetie, as it’s your idea, do you want to go first?” John B said, gently stroking Sarah’s hair.
“Okay, truth.”
The others paused for a moment, thinking.
“What’s your… guilty pleasure?” Kie asked finally.
“Oh, that’s a good one. Um, let me think. I’d probably have to say, daytime tv murder mysteries – Murder She Wrote, Diagnosis Murder, those yellow writing made-for-TV films. So cheesy, I know, but there’s something so comforting about them. I like to watch them curled up on the sofa with hot tea and some chocolate. Sometimes Wheezie and Rafe watch them with me. Rafe teases me about them all the time, but he still comes and watches with me. We’re not as close as we used to be, but in those moments, he just feels like my big brother again.”
“That’s so lovely Sarah,” Kie smiled.
John B pressed a kiss to the top of Sarah’s head.
“Right” Sarah replied, “my turn to choose. Kie, Truth or Dare?”
“Truth”
“Okay, same question – what’s your guilty pleasure?”
“Long showers” Kie replied straight away. “Taking my time to wash all the salt water from my hair, using my favourite coconut body wash, just standing and feeling the spray on my skin and all the way to my scalp, letting my muscles all unwind under the press of the hot water. Washing the day away. Then getting out and wrapping up in a big fluffy towel. Bliss.”
“We’re really going for quite touching answers today,” JJ smirked, “I thought truth or dare was code for ‘tell us who you secretly fancy and what you’ve done in bed’.”
“It’s what you make it,” John B laughed.
“Okay JJ,” said Kie, “Truth or Dare?”
“Dare.”
“I dare you to run down to the dock and back again, fast as you can.”
JJ sighed, “Fine, kind of boring, but fine. I mean it’s still raining pretty hard and I’ll get soaked. But whatever, I’ll get to pick next.”
The blond boy unfolded himself from his position on the sofa, casually running his fingers through his hair. As ever, it loosely settled in an almost gravity defying sweep, that JJ hoped looked carefree and haphazard, but which he actually secretly practiced in front of the mirror. He tramped across the room, playfully tweaking the rim of Pope’s snapback on his way to the screen door. Pope swatted at him, then watched him go, catching a quick glimpse of his toned abs through his muscle-tee as he turned at the door flashing a quick grin at them all before wrenching the door open and lurching off. He sprinted down the scrubby back yard, past the firepit and down towards the dock. The others watched from the doorway as he hurtled down the dock, smacked the wood of the mooring post, then spinning and making his way back up the incline towards the house. A couple of times his boots skidded on the sodden ground and he nearly overbalanced, but he just managed to right himself. The others laughed from inside.
“Graceful” laughed John B.
“Shut up,” JJ barked as he crashed back through the screen door in a shower of water droplets. The others jumped back quickly.
The pounding rain from earlier had eased considerably, but it was still falling in steady sheets. JJ was soaked though, water running from his hair in rivulets and the fabric of his tee sticking to the toned muscle beneath. Pope caught himself staring at the water droplets running from the sharp jut of his jawline down the column of his neck and flicked his eyes away guiltily.
Laughing, JJ pushed the wet hair from his face, then proceeded to shake as much water off as he could.
“Hey dude!” John B laughed with him, “stop trying to shake yourself dry like a dog and just get a towel like a normal person!”
JJ grinned again, but before setting off across the room in the direction of the bathroom, he carefully toed one boot off, then the other, then reached down and in one fluid motion, pealed the tee off his body and over his head. As he did, Pope’s eyes travelled up the expanse of glistening, rain-slickened golden skin and taut muscle, his mouth suddenly going dry.
JJ wrung out the tee as best he could through the screen door, then hung it on the back of a chair to dry off. He then padded down the hall in search of a towel. The others drifted back to their previous positions. Pope went and poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen, then set himself down on the sofa. JJ came back into the room, rubbing a towel briskly over his head, then plonked himself down on the sofa next to Pope.
“Right,” he smirked. “My turn. And rather than picking one person, I’ve got a dare I want to challenge you all to take part in. Everyone game? And just to let you know, anyone that chickens out is just asking for payback – JJ style!”
They all eyed each other warily.
“That’s no joke actually,” John B shuddered. “After the last time I backed out of a dare he kept leaving his worn socks and boxers in my bed for a week. Sometimes while I was in it! Whatever he has planned will be a hundred times better than waking up with his underwear draped on your face, trust me!”
“Gross!” Sarah squealed. JJ grinned, bending his head and flourishing his arm in a mock bow.
“Okay then,” JJ carried on, “I take it everyone’s on board?” The others nodded reluctantly.
“Then I dare everyone in this room to play three rounds of spin the bottle – round one, quick kiss; round two, proper kiss with tongue; and round three, full on seven-minutes-in-heaven-style make out sesh. No backing out, no skipping, no passing your turn. No matter how awkward, you just have to lock lips with whoever you get paired with.”
Pope felt the atmosphere in the room thicken. He could see his friends shooting looks at each other.
Sarah swallowed, looking up at her boyfriend, “what do you think?”
“I’m okay with it if you are, baby,” he smiled, squeezing her shoulder. Then he whispered something into her ear that only she could hear. Sarah blushed suddenly, biting her lip and squirming against him, ducking her head slightly to try to hide her pink cheeks behind her hair, but not before the others had seen.
JJ looked over to Pope, catching his eye and grinning, raising his eyebrow suggestively. Pope rolled his eyes back at him, but inside his heart was hammering against his chest.
“Okay, we’re in” Sarah giggled, “Kie? Pope?”
“Fine,” Kie sighed.
“Y-yeah,” Pope stuttered finally.
Sweeping the cards from the forgotten game of solitaire into a pile, Kie uncurled from the floor and went to get an empty beer bottle from the recycling.
John B trailed his fingers up and down Sarah’s arm absently. Pope watched their lazy movement, aware of the pulse of blood he could suddenly hear thrumming in his ears and trying to ignore the warm weight of his best friend on the sofa next to him and the single, tiny point of contact where JJ’s knee brushed his own leg.
Kie returned and set the bottle on the floor.
“Okay, so I assume we spin twice for each round then,” she looked up at the others. At their nods, Kie twisted her fingers, setting the bottle to revolve on the floor before it slowed to point at John B. Sarah’s eyes sparkled and John B hid his smile by pressing his nose into the back of her hair.
Kie leaned forwards and spun again and this time the bottle landed on JJ.
Pope’s heart sank slightly. Sarah let out a sharp intake of breath, then huffed it out quickly in a laugh. JJ smacked a hand against his forehead lightly, groaning and shaking his head. Kie joined Sarah laughing, “Come on JJ, what did you say? No backing out wasn’t it?” Pope laughed weekly along with them.
JJ pulled himself to his feet and John B followed. JJ opened his arms wide and jokingly said in a high falsetto “Come ‘ere loverboy”. He leaned forwards and planted a kiss on John B’s mouth with an over-exaggerated smacking sound. He then pulled back and grimaced, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. John B laughed and sat back down, “yeah, you’re not really my type either mate”.
“Well that’s round one ‘quick kiss’ done,” Sarah said. “Next we’ve got ‘proper kiss with tongue’.”
Kie lined up the bottle again and spun. When it finally stopped, it was pointing directly at her. She reached forward and quickly spun it again. Pope saw Kie’s eyes fixed on the bottle and perhaps he was imaging it, but with the fierce expression on Kie’s face it looked as though she was willing the bottle to land on a particular person. Please, just once, her lips seemed to mouth. When the bottle stopped, it was pointing at Sarah. A flash of relief seemed to pass over Kie’s face, quickly followed by guilt. Pope looked to see if anyone else had noticed, but nobody was looking: Sarah and John B were eyeing each other suggestively and when Pope turned, JJ’s eyes were on his own face. Pope opened his mouth to say something and JJ’s eyes quickly flicked up to his eyes. Pope closed his mouth and turned back to the room, lost for a moment.
Across the room, Sarah had eased herself down onto the floor and crawled over to where Kie sat nervously. She reached her hand out and trailed her fingers down the side of Kie’s face, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. John B leaned forwards, elbows on knees, eyes glued to the girls on the floor. Kie swallowed and licked her lips. Sarah leaned forwards and gently pressed her lips against Kie’s. After a heartbeat, Kie pressed forwards, her lips moving against Sarah’s and her hand going up to card slowly through Sarah’s silky hair. Sarah cupped Kie’s cheek, her thumb gently stroking along the cheekbone. Pope saw Kie’s lips part and a flash of tongue before the girls’ mouths slotted together again. When they finally pulled apart, they kept their heads close, foreheads touching, breathing each other’s air for a final moment. Kie brought her hand forwards and ever so gently traced her thumb over Sarah’s bottom lip, then, as though suddenly catching herself, pulled it away suddenly, breaking the spell of the moment.
“That,” John B declared, “was hot.”
Kie hummed absently in response, a strange expression of mixed longing and sadness on her face.
Oblivious, John B grinned widely, opening his arms for Sarah, but as she moved back over to him, Pope saw the dazed expression on her face and the slight frown around her eyes. She sat back in John B’s lap, staring at her hands and let him pepper kisses over her neck and shoulder, but Pope saw her furtive glance in Kie’s direction.
“Well,” Kie exclaimed, “last round.”
“The last pair are really going to have to up their game to top the last performance,” John B joked.
Sarah cleared her throat, “everyone’s had a go now, right?”
“No, Pope hasn’t,” JJ said quickly. “Maybe we should nominate him and then just spin for his partner?”
“That’s hardly fair,” John B replied.
Pope looked over at JJ, catching his eye and shrugging, trying not to lose himself in the piercing blue gaze.
“I’m spinning twice,” Kie decided.
Pope watched the bottle spin, vaguely aware the thudding of his pulse in his ears had returned. And finally, he swallowed hard when he realised the bottle had come to a rest pointing directly at him.
“Guess we didn’t need to cheat after all,” Sarah noted.
Kie lent over and spun the bottle again.
Time slowed for Pope, his eyes following the mesmerising twist of the bottle on the floor, vaguely aware of the sound of his friends making drumroll and crescendo noises, hearing the thud of his pulse in his ears, feeling the pounding of his heart against his ribs and, above all, the warm point of contact on his leg from JJ’s knee. When the bottle finally slowed, the thump in his ears grew to a deafening roaring and he slowly looked up to stare into the face of his best friend, who, catching his breath, suddenly looked just as wide-eyed.
“Haha, poor JJ,” John B teased lightly. “Hope you didn’t set this dare just for a guilt-free chance to mack on our girls! Looks like you pulled the short straw.”
“Something like that,” JJ croaked.
“Remember,” John B cut in. “You’ve got to make this seven-minutes-in-heaven level steamy!”
JJ ignored him and shuffled closer to Pope on the sofa.
“You sure this is okay?” He asked quietly.
Pope swallowed and nodded.
JJ brought their bodies even closer, then glanced down nervously, suddenly overly aware of his naked chest. He was so close, Pope could see the fan of JJ’s lashes against his cheeks, smell his slightly minty shampoo, the clean freshness of his skin and also something deeper. Something that reminded him of freshly cut grass after the rain. Even from here, Pope imagined he could taste the salt of the ocean on JJ’s skin. Pope leaned forward slightly and breathed it in. And that was when JJ looked up, their eyes met and the rest of the world faded away, and for the first time, Pope saw his own secret longing reflected back at him in JJ’s eyes. Eyes that looked more nervous and hopeful that he had ever seen them. And just like that, Pope let his walls come crashing down like a house of cards and he leaned forwards until he met JJ’s lips with his own.
JJ’s eyes fluttered shut as he melted against Pope, mouth parting and hand coming up to rest on Pope’s neck, lost in the slow push and slide of their lips and tongues.
Pope leaned into the hand on his neck; the feeling of the fingertips on the sensitive skin setting off sparks of fire along his veins. This, he though, yes, this. He brought a hand up to bury in JJ’s wild blond locks, feeling JJ quietly hitch in a breath when he gently tugged. JJ’s mouth caught Pope’s bottom lip and Pope almost groaned as he felt the soft scrape of JJ’s teeth as he slowly traced them over the over-stimulated skin. Pope felt the smallest tweak as the corner of JJ’s mouth twisted upwards in the tiniest ghost of a grin. Pope pulled his lips away to pepper a trail of feather light kisses along JJ’s neck and jawline, ending just below his ear. His chest rising and falling heavily, JJ tilted his head to give Pope more access and, encouraged, Pope tentatively took the lobe of JJ’s ear into his mouth and sucked. JJ’s breathing faltered and suddenly Pope could feel the sweet bite of blunt nails raking down the back of his neck. JJ brought their lips back together and this time, Pope could feel the build and the urgency behind JJ’s movements.
Someone cleared their throat.
The moment broke and JJ and Pope pulled back slightly, still only inches apart. Their eyes met and the look they shared was somehow so familiar, but also so new, so foreign. Pope thought he saw joy, excitement and anticipation written on JJ’s face, but also a hint of fear. JJ’s shoulders heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. Quickly, his eyes flashed down to Pope’s lips and then back up again. Pope raised an eyebrow at him and JJ replied with a small shrug of the shoulders and a sheepish, almost apologetic little half smile. It was then that Pope’s face cracked into the wide smile of sheer, unbridled happiness and a second later JJ was grinning too, and winking at him, and taking Pope’s hand in his own and squeezing. Pope squeezed back. Then JJ and Pope turned, hand in hand, to greet the surprised reaction of their friends.
78 notes
·
View notes
The Sexual Awakening of David Joseph Katz
Chapter 1: Fun and Games
Series summary: A multi-chapter journey of self-discovery and sexual awakening.
Chapter summary: In the wake of a storm, The Umbrella Academy siblings and their friends pass the time playing truth or dare, and slowly, secret feelings are revealed.
Genre: Hidden feelings, mutual pining, developing relationship, eventual smut (although none in this chapter).
A/N: This is set in a nothing-too-bad-really-happens modern AU. The characters are all in their early twenties (I’m picturing adult!actor versions of them and Dave is the Cody Ray Thompson version!). The siblings are all still living at home, relatively happily, and Dave, Lila, Sissy and Carl are friends who hang out with them at the Academy.
Word length: 3.3k
Warning: Mention of canon compliant incestuous feelings, but nothing explicit and there won’t be any actual sibling incest.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.
*******************************************************
The tail end of a storm was blowing over the city. Dirty cotton wool clouds hung low in the sky and the angry gunfire of rain had finally begun to ease into a soothing staccato patter again the windowpanes. The muggy heat of the last month, that had previously pressed against the skin like wet clothes, had broken at last.
Inside The Umbrella Academy, the gang lounged, languid in the quiet calm that the change in the weather had brought: Luther staring out of a window, Diego and Lila sitting cross-legged with a pile of balled up foil candy wrappers competitively aiming at a coffee mug abandoned on the floor, Carl and Sissy curled in a chair, Ben reading, Five scribbling in a notebook, Vanya and Dave sitting at the counter playing a quiet game of cards and Klaus reclining on the sofa, one leg thrown over the back and his head resting in Allison lap who was absently playing with his hair.
“Looks like it’s finally easing up out there,” Luther commented.
“Umm,” Allison agreed. “That was a pretty bad one.”
“I wonder how long the power’s going to stay off,” worried Vanya.
“Don’t you have a back-up generator in this mansion?” Lila quipped, elbowing Diego then lobbing a balled-up foil wrapper across the room where it landed directly in the mug. “Yes!” She turned to Diego and pulled a face. Diego frowned.
“We could play a game,” suggested Sissy. “My sister and I play one like Truth or Dare, but it’s just Truth. We could try that?”
“You know what would be better that Truth or Truth, Sissy?” said Carl smirking, “Truth or Dare.”
“Okay,” Sissy laughed shyly, “I guess we can be a bit more adventurous!”
“Well as it’s your idea, Sissy, do you want to go first?” Luther asked kindly.
“Okay,” she nodded, “truth.”
The others paused for a moment, thinking.
“What’s your… guilty pleasure?” Allison asked finally.
“Oh, that’s a good one. Um, let me think. I’d probably have to say, daytime tv murder mysteries – Murder She Wrote, Diagnosis Murder, those yellow writing made-for-TV films. So cheesy, I know, but there’s something so comforting about them. I like to watch them curled up on the sofa with hot tea and some biscuits. But Carl teases me about them all the time. Don’t you, Carl?”
Carl scoffed. “Yes, because they’re brain-rotting drivel!”
Vanya frowned. “No, they’re not! I love those shows too. I think that was a great answer, Sissy.”
Sissy smiled shyly and ducked her head trying to hide her blush.
“Right,” she replied after a moment, “my turn to choose. Allison, truth or dare?”
“Truth”
“Okay, same question – what’s your guilty pleasure?”
“Long showers” Allison replied straight away. “Taking my time to wash my hair, using my favourite coconut body wash, just standing and feeling the spray on my skin and all the way to my scalp, letting my muscles all unwind under the press of the hot water. Washing the day away. Then getting out and wrapping up in a big fluffy towel. Bliss.”
“Well aren’t we all being sentimental today?” Klaus grinned rolling his eyes, “I thought truth or dare was code for ‘tell us who you secretly fancy and what you’ve done in bed’.”
Dave stomach flipped over and he concentrated very hard on the cards in his hands.
“Shut up Klaus,” Luther said.
“I guess it’s what you make it,” Diego laughed, throwing a foil ball across the room, where it hit the rim of the mug and bounced off.
“Ha,” gloated Lila.
“Okay Klaus,” Allison cut in, “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” Klaus replied instantly.
“Right,” Allison challenged, “I dare you to run a lap of the courtyard, as fast as you can.”
“Fine,” Klaus sighed dramatically, unfolding himself from his position on the sofa and standing up. “Kind of boring, but fine. I mean, it’s still raining pretty hard and I’ll get soaked. And these pants are not designed for running in.” Dave flicked his eyes up, caught sight of Klaus sticking his leg out in a pose, displaying the curve of his backside in the tight pants and looked away again quickly, his face heating up.
“But whatever,” Klaus huffed. “I’ll do it, and then I’ll get to pick next.” He looked around the room, glancing at the others then caught Dave’s eye and smiled mischievously. Dave’s stomach clenched again.
Klaus casually ran his fingers through his wild curls. As ever, his hair loosely settled in a slightly chaotic disorder that Klaus hoped looked carefree and haphazard, but which his siblings knew he actually secretly practiced in front of the mirror. He wandered across the room, flicking Ben’s ear on his way to the door. Ben swatted at him.
Dave watched Klaus go, his eyes furtively following the strip of flat, toned stomach visible between the hem of Klaus’ cropped tee and the waistband of his low-slung tight leather pants.
Slowly, everyone got up from their various positions around the living area and tramped after him.
At the door to the courtyard, Klaus turned and flashed a quick grin at them all, raising his fingers to his temple in a mock salute. Then, he wrenched the door open and lurched off, sprinting out into the rain, his long legs making him look a little gangly and uncoordinated.
The others watched from the doorway as he hurtled around the far side of the courtyard and then began jogging back in the direction of the door. A couple of times his boots skidded on the sodden ground and he nearly overbalanced, but he just managed to right himself in time. The others laughed from inside.
“Graceful,” Ben teased.
“Shut up,” Klaus barked as he crashed back through the door in a shower of water droplets. The others jumped back quickly.
The pounding rain from earlier had eased considerably, but it was still falling in steady sheets. Klaus was soaked through, water running from his hair in rivulets and the fabric of his tee sticking to the toned muscle beneath. Dave caught himself staring at the water droplets running from the sharp jut of his jawline down the column of his neck and flicked his eyes away guiltily.
Laughing, Klaus pushed the wet hair from his face, then proceeded to shake as much water off as he could.
“Hey dude!” Diego laughed with him, “stop trying to shake yourself dry like a dog and just get a towel like a normal person!”
Klaus grinned again, but before setting off in the direction of the bathroom, he carefully toed off one boot, then the other, then reached down and in one fluid motion, peeled the tee off his body and over his head. As he did, Dave’s eyes traveled up the expanse of glistening, rain-slickened skin and taut muscle, his mouth suddenly going dry.
Klaus wrung out the tee as best he could through the door, then hung it on the back of a chair to dry off. He then padded away in search of a towel. The others drifted back into the living room to their previous positions.
Dave poured himself a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen, then headed back to the living room and sat down on one of the sofas.
After a few minutes, Klaus wandered back into the room, rubbing a towel briskly over his head, then flopped down on the sofa next to Dave.
“Right,” Klaus smirked. “My turn. And rather than picking one person, I’ve got a dare I want to challenge you all to take part in. Everyone game? And before you say anything, anyone that backs out is just asking to be called chicken for the next year or so, or until I forget. And yes, I’m looking at you, Number One.” Klaus flashed Luther a cheeky grin, his eyes twinkling.
The others all eyed each other warily, but nobody said anything.
“Okay then,” Klaus carried on, “I take it everyone’s on board?” The others nodded reluctantly.
“Then I dare everyone in this room to play three rounds of spin the bottle – round one, quick kiss; round two, proper kiss with tongue; and round three, full on seven-minutes-in-heaven-style make-out sesh. No backing out, no skipping, no passing your turn. No matter how awkward, you just have to lock lips with whoever you get paired with.”
Dave felt the atmosphere in the room thicken. He could see everyone shooting looks at each other.
“Klaus!” Five said in disgust. “You do realise that most of the people in this room are siblings, right?”
“Yeah,” Luther added in a wavering voice, “that would just be…. wrong.”
“Not biological though,” Allison added.
Luther looked over at her quickly, but she was shuffling the deck of cards, determinedly not catching anyone’s eye.
“Of course, you’d say that, Chicken Hargreeves,” Klaus quipped.
Luther bristled.
Lila raised an eyebrow and looked up at Diego, “What do you think? Do you dare?”
“Oh, you’re bringing it are you, huh?” he jokingly squared up to her. “Well if you’re in Lila, then I’m in”
“Yeah, probably because you’re desperate for the bottle to pair you two up,” teased Ben. “That way, you’ve finally got an excuse to make out with her, rather than bottling up all your sexual frustration and letting it out by trying to beat her at everything,”
“Trying and failing,” Lila added with a grin.
“Shut up, Ben” Diego snapped.
“What, are you feeling called out, Number Two?” Lila joked.
“Oh, you wish.” He growled.
“Maybe I do.” She raised an eyebrow at him.
Diego looked lost for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together slightly and his eyes flicking across Lila’s face questioningly.
Klaus nudged Dave’s leg with his knee, catching his eye and inclining his head slightly towards Diego and Lila, grinning and raising an eyebrow. Dave grinned back and rolled his eyes, but inside his heart was hammering against his chest.
“Okay, we’re in” Diego said, still staring into Lila’s face. “Everyone else?”
“Fine,” Luther huffed.
“I guess so,” said Allison.
“Okay,” Sissy nodded.
“Me too,” Vanya agreed.
“Y-yeah,” Dave stuttered finally.
“You’re all immature idiots,” said Five. “There’s no way I’m taking part in this.”
“Me neither,” Ben added, “I’m out.”
“Chickens!” Klaus called.
“Funny,” Ben added, “I’d much rather be called a chicken, than be told to make out with one of my brothers or sisters.”
“Spoil sport,” Klaus waved a hand dismissively in his direction.
“Yeah, Sissy and I aren’t playing either,” Carl rested a hand heavily on Sissy’s shoulder.
“Actually,” Sissy said, shrugging his hand off. “I do want to play.” She got up and moved to a sofa nearer the others. Carl frowned, looking cross.
Allison put the cards down and headed over to the bar to retrieve an empty bottle from the recycling.
Luther ran his hand up and down his forearm nervously. Dave absently watched the movement, aware of the pulse of blood he could suddenly hear thrumming in his ears and trying to ignore the warm weight of Klaus on the sofa next to him and the single, tiny point of contact where Klaus’ knee brushed his own leg.
Allison returned and set the bottle on the floor.
“Okay, so I assume we spin twice for each round then?” She looked up at the others. At their nods, Allison twisted her fingers, setting the bottle to revolve on the floor before it slowed to point at Lila. Lila’s eyes sparkled and she looked over at Diego, raising an eyebrow.
Allison leaned forwards and spun again and this time the bottle landed on Luther.
Diego’s eyes narrowed and he swallowed quickly. Luther closed his eyes, steeling himself. When he opened them, he glanced quickly over at Diego, a question in his eyes.
“Well get on with it then, Number One,” Dave said gruffly. “No backing out, wasn’t that the idea.” But Dave could still hear the edge of hurt in his voice.
Luther pulled himself to his feet. Lila stood, opened her arms wide and jokingly said, “Come ‘ere then, loverboy”. She leaned forwards and planted a kiss on Luther’s mouth with an over-exaggerated smacking sound. She then pulled back and grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of his hand. Luther laughed weakly and sat back down, his eyes briefly glancing over in Allison’s direction.
“Well that’s round one ‘quick kiss’ done,” Klaus said excitedly. “Next we’ve got ‘proper kiss with tongue’.”
Allison lined up the bottle again and spun. When it finally stopped, it was pointing at Sissy. Dave heard Carl let out a cross grunt from his position across the room. Allison reached forward and quickly spun it again. Dave glanced over to Vanya and saw her eyes fixed on the bottle. And perhaps he was imaging it, but with the fierce expression on Vanya’s face it almost looked as though she was willing the bottle to land on a particular person. Please, just once, her lips seemed to mouth. When the bottle stopped, it was pointing directly at her. A flash of relief seemed to pass over Vanya’s face, quickly followed by guilt.
Dave looked to see if anyone else had noticed, but nobody was looking: Diego and Lila were still staring at each other, Luther and Allison were looking anywhere but at each other and when Dave turned, Klaus’ eyes were on his own face. Dave opened his mouth to say something and Klaus’ eyes quickly flicked up from his lips to his eyes. Dave closed his mouth and turned back to the room, lost for a moment.
Across the room, Sissy had eased herself up and walked over to where Vanya was standing nervously. She reached her hand out and trailed her fingers down the side of Vanya’s face, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Carl leaned forwards, face set, elbows on knees, his eyes glued to the girls. Vanya swallowed and licked her lips. Sissy leaned forwards and gently pressed her lips against Vanya’s. After a heartbeat, Vanya pressed forwards, her lips moving against Sissy’s and her hand going up to card slowly through Sissy’s silky hair. Sissy cupped Vanya’s cheek, her thumb gently stroking along the cheekbone. Dave saw Vanya’s lips part and a flash of tongue before the girls’ mouths slotted together again. When they finally pulled apart, they kept their heads close, foreheads touching, breathing each other’s air for a final moment. Vanya brought her hand forwards and ever so gently traced her thumb over Sissy’s bottom lip, then, as though suddenly catching herself, pulled it away suddenly, breaking the spell of the moment.
“That,” Klaus declared, “was hot.”
Vanya hummed absently in response, a strange expression of mixed longing and sadness on her face.
As Sissy moved back to her seat, Dave saw the dazed expression on her face and the slight frown around her eyes. She sat back down, avoiding Carl’s fierce glare, but Dave saw her furtive glance in Vanya’s direction.
“Well,” Allison exclaimed, “last round.”
“The last pair are really going to have to up their game to top that performance,” Klaus joked.
Dave looked over at Klaus, trying not to lose himself in the captivating twinkle of his green eyes.
Allison spun again.
Dave watched the bottle rotate, vaguely aware that the thudding of his pulse in his ears had returned. And finally, he swallowed hard when he realised the bottle had come to a rest pointing directly at him.
Allison lent over and spun the bottle again.
Time slowed for Dave, his eyes following the mesmerising twist of the bottle on the floor, vaguely aware of the sound of his friends making drumroll and crescendo noises, hearing the thud of his pulse in his ears, feeling the pounding of his heart against his ribs and, above all, the warm point of contact on his leg from Klaus’ knee. When the bottle finally slowed, the thump in his ears grew to a deafening roaring and he slowly looked up to stare into the face of his friend, who, catching his breath, suddenly looked just as wide-eyed.
“Serves you right, Klaus,” Luther teased lightly. “Setting this dare as a way to make fun of the rest of us. But it looks like you pulled the short straw.”
“Something like that,” Klaus croaked.
“Remember,” Diego cut in. “You’ve got to make this seven-minutes-in-heaven level steamy!”
Klaus ignored him and shuffled closer to Dave on the sofa.
“You sure this is okay?” He asked quietly.
Dave swallowed and nodded.
Klaus brought their bodies even closer, then glanced down nervously, suddenly overly aware of his naked chest. He was so close, Dave could see the fan of Klaus’ lashes against his cheeks, smell his slightly minty shampoo, the clean freshness of his skin and also something deeper. Something that reminded him of freshly cut grass after the rain. Even from here, Dave imagined he could taste the sweetness of Klaus’ skin. Dave leaned forward slightly and breathed in. And that was when Klaus looked up, their eyes met and the rest of the world faded away, and for the first time, Dave saw his own secret longing reflected back at him in Klaus’ eyes. Eyes that looked more nervous and hopeful that he had ever seen them. And just like that, Dave let his walls come crashing down like a house of cards and he leaned forwards until he met Klaus’ lips with his own.
Klaus’ eyes fluttered shut as he melted against Dave, mouth parting and hand coming up to rest on Dave’s neck, lost in the slow push and slide of their lips and tongues.
Dave leaned into the hand on his neck; the feeling of the fingertips on the sensitive skin setting off sparks of fire along his veins. This, he though, yes, this. He brought a hand up to bury in Klaus’ wild dark hair, feeling Klaus quietly hitch in a breath when he gently tugged. Klaus’ mouth caught Dave’s bottom lip and Dave almost groaned as he felt the soft scrape of Klaus’ teeth as he slowly traced them over the over-stimulated skin. Dave felt the smallest tweak as the corner of Klaus’ mouth twisted upwards in the tiniest ghost of a grin. Dave pulled his lips away to pepper a trail of feather light kisses along Klaus’ neck and jawline, ending just below his ear. His chest rising and falling heavily, Klaus tilted his head to give Dave more access and, encouraged, Dave tentatively took the lobe of Klaus’ ear into his mouth and sucked. Klaus’ breathing faltered and suddenly Dave could feel the sweet bite of blunt nails raking down the back of his neck. Klaus brought their lips back together and this time, Dave could feel the build and the urgency behind Klaus’ movements.
Someone cleared their throat.
The moment broke and Klaus and Dave pulled back slightly, still only inches apart. Their eyes met and the look they shared was somehow so familiar, but also so new, so foreign. Dave thought he saw joy, excitement and anticipation written on Klaus’ face, but also a hint of fear. Klaus’ shoulders heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. Quickly, his eyes flashed down to Dave’s lips and then back up again. Dave raised an eyebrow at him and Klaus replied with a small shrug of the shoulders and a sheepish, almost apologetic little half smile. It was then that Dave’s face cracked into the wide smile of sheer, unbridled happiness and a second later Klaus was grinning too, and winking at him, and taking Dave’s hand in his own and squeezing. Dave squeezed back. Then Klaus and Dave turned, hand in hand, to greet the surprised reaction of their friends and family.
15 notes
·
View notes
Curiosity | JJK {M}
when innocent jungkook comes to you with a not-so-innocent question... you decide it’s easier to just demonstrate.
pairing: switch!jungkook x reader
genre: smut
words: 3.6k
contains: college au, best friend’s brother, oral (m), bondage (m), kinda soft dirty talk/praise, condomless sex, jungkook has a huge dick (of course), he also has a massive crush on you
a/n: thank you for the request, anon!
Of one thing you are deadly certain: you should not have left this essay to the last minute. Your fingers fly across the keyboard, tapping out words you hope form sentences coherent enough to net you a decent grade. There’s no other sound save for your occasional grunts of frustration, as your roommate is out on her long-awaited date with a cute lit major (Namjoon, was it?). You’re only a hundred words away from finishing, and you can’t wait to be done with this so you can get started on the million other things on your to-do list.
You’re so focused, you don’t even notice when the lock on your front door turns. You certainly don’t realize someone has slipped inside, backpack slung over one shoulder, bright-eyed grin on cute lips. It isn’t until— “Hello?”
“Gah!”
You jolt, leaping back as you grab the weapon nearest to you: a ruler. You point it towards the source of the voice, which reveals itself to not be an axe murderer, but Jungkook, looking amused. “Are you going to measure me?”
“God, Jungkook.” You let the ruler clatter to the table. “You have to stop doing that.”
He plops down onto the couch. “Sorry.” He flashes you an innocent smile that you’re sure has all the girls in his lectures fawning over him. Not that he would know what to do with them. Not this sweet, boyish Jungkook.
“Anyway, your sister isn’t here.”
“I know.” He strips off his jacket, draping it neatly over the back of the sofa. He’s in a plain black tee, looking more handsome than anyone has the right to in such basics.
“Okay then.” You swivel your chair back to your laptop.
Recently, Jungkook’s been hanging out here a lot more often, with or without his sister. You don’t actually mind; you keep to your own devices, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s a good kid, always up for a movie or a talk about anything and everything. Navigating first year at university is always a rough time, so you’re usually happy to help him when you can. But right now… The paper takes absolute priority.
You re-focus and resume the rapid-fire typing, trying to ignore the shuffling you can hear behind you. It gets harder to not notice when Jungkook stands up and pads to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, then the freezer, then pours himself a noisy glass of water. He comes back into the living room with the cup in hand, leaning against the doorframe as he sips. You can feel his eyes on you, no matter how you try to remind yourself that you have to finish this.
To your relief, he eventually gives up and walks to the sofa. But a minute later, he’s back at it again, this time heading to the rack of CDs. You can’t help but track him with your peripheral vision, watching him restlessly fumble around with your collection. The minutes tick by, and to your absolute shock, the words on the document aren’t writing themselves.
In the end, Jungkook does nothing at all except distract you. When he turns from the CDs emptyhanded, you catch his gaze. “Don’t you have papers to write or exams to study for, Jungkook?”
“No, I finished all of my work already. At least, all the important stuff.”
It must run in the family, you think begrudgingly. Lucky them.
“Well—”
“Actually!” Jungkook interrupts you in a voice so loud it scares even himself. He takes a step forward, softening his tone. “Actually. I did have something I wanted to… erm… study. I wanted to ask you about it.” He shoots you the look that you both know you’re weak to. Curse the gods for making him so darn adorable.
It’s not like you’ll get any work done with him around anyway, so you figure answering him just might get him to leave. “Okay. What is it?”
Why does he look so nervous? His fingers knot themselves before he reaches up to touch his hair, smoothing out kinks that aren’t there. He sniffles.
“Jungkook?”
You see his lips move, but you can’t quite hear what he’s saying.
“Pardon?”
“…ndage… Uh, can you… maybe, possibly, please teach me about bondage?”
Nothing on earth could have prepared you for that to come out of his mouth.
You practically fall out of your chair, your jaw slack. “What makes you think I can teach you?” Flustered, that’s the best thing you can come up with.
“You’re more experienced than me.” He walks closer, towering over you. “There’s no one else I can ask. Please.”
You didn’t even know he was experienced at all in the first place! How had you been so mistaken in your impression of him? “Why do you even want to learn?”
“I…” His cheeks slightly flush with color. “I’m just curious. Really curious.”
You take a hand through your hair. “It’s not really something that can be verbally taught.”
“Show me then.”
You can’t help the pulse that runs through you at the dip in his tone, at the stubborn desire that you’ve never taken notice of before. Where has this Jungkook been hiding all this time? His arms are crossed, the veins from training prominent and rippling. They’d feel good wrapped around you. Are you really contemplating this? Hell.
“I… I’ve gotta finish this paper.”
“Take a break.”
“No way. Not unless I get to tie you up.”
“Deal.”
“Thought so. Wait. What?”
“Deal,” he repeats. “Tie me up.”
“Jeon Jungkook.” You stand, trying to stare him down even though he’s taller than you. “You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
“You know we can never go back if we do this.”
He nods. Just that simple action sends dangerous tingles from the pit of your stomach, a sensation that lets you know you’re on the cusp of doing something you really shouldn’t be doing. But you’re starting to want to.
Suddenly, he walks away. For a brief moment, you actually find yourself disappointed before you realize he’s just picking up his backpack. A quick zip, and he’s pulling out thin, solid-looking fabric in a dark navy. As he makes his way back to you, he offers a smile, but it no longer looks innocent to you.
Your eyes dart from him to what he holds in his hands, then back to him. You swallow. You’re almost done the essay anyway, right? Snatching the straps from his palm, you stalk into your bedroom, hearing his footsteps behind you as he follows so obediently.
In the room, you flick the lights on but dim them low. You circle around, tilting your head to look up at the boy you never thought you could ever see in this way. In this light, with that dangerous glint in his eyes, you can’t see him as anything but.
You reach for him, pressing your body flush against him as your lips meet for the first time. He tastes faintly like candy, a sweetness that you recognize as dangerously addicting. He traces your lips with the tip of his tongue, his broad hands sliding up beneath your oversized hoodie to find you’re wearing nothing underneath. Meeting your bare flesh makes him growl with fresh arousal.
“I… I was just studying so I didn’t bother,” you mumble, a lame excuse but to your credit, the firm bulge that’s pressing against you is very distracting.
“Makes things easier.” He smiles as he steps back to tug his tee over his head. It falls to the floor along with his belt, his jeans.
“Impatient?” You ask, raking your eyes down past his sculpted chest, the subtle outline of his abs. The mirth in your eyes dies completely when you take in the prominent, massive outline in his boxer-briefs. Yum. Your own restraint runs empty as you hook your fingers into the waistband, and tug down.
I want that inside me, is your first thought when Jungkook’s cock is freed. The smooth curve that stems from a short tuft of midnight hair leads to a dark-red head, prominent and full. Sparse foreskin just barely covers the ridge that looks like it’ll be merciless. You gulp, steadying yourself. You remind yourself that you’re meant to be in charge here.
“Get on the bed.”
Jungkook obeys, letting his head rest on the multitude of pillows. He licks his lips, managing to make even that simple action ridiculously enticing. Especially now that you know what that tongue is capable of. You advance, sliding the straps between your fingers. You’ve only done this once before so it’s not like you’re particularly well-versed either, but you can’t find it in you to give up this opportunity.
His eyes never leave you as you guide his arms up, looping the fabric around his wrists, careful not to hurt him. “Is that too tight?” You ask, cinching the knot around the poles of your bedframe. You hadn’t considered this to be an advantage of this particular bed before.
“No.”
When you’re satisfied that your ties are secure, your fingers leave his skin much to his chagrin. You circle around to the foot of the bed, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. You consider leaving your clothes on, but they’ll only be a distraction. Especially with the heat and sweat that’s already prickling on your skin.
Off it goes.
Jungkook’s eyes are saucers as he takes in your naked breasts, full and pert. He never could have imagined he would actually be seeing them instead of in his dreams, over and over again until he ruins his pants in his sleep. But now he knows that none of his fantasies can compare to the real thing.
You fight back the giggles at how shell-shocked he looks. It makes you want to take off something else to watch him react. But the only thing that remains… You eye your terry-cloth shorts and can almost hear Jungkook whispering yes.
Fine.
Those go too, leaving you standing in the cheeky black panties fringed with a flirty lace. You take it deliberately slow, strolling to the bed so he can watch how the undies shift with every movement, so he can wonder if you’ll expose what lies beneath by accident. Crawling onto the mattress, you wonder if this is how a predator feels when beholding its prey.
Jungkook shivers when you draw a path up his legs with your fingertips. His first moan is when you flit to his inner thigh, so close to his cock but not quite. You let your nails gently scrape at his skin, drawing closer only to pull away. “Fuck.” The expletive uttered in his once-shy voice is a juxtaposition that drenches you.
You didn’t think anything could top that noise, but then he gasps your name when you finally curl your fingers around his cock. The veins that run along his shaft ripple beneath your thumb, racing with adrenaline as he stiffens even more. It all only crescendos from there.
“Ngh!”
The bedframe rattles violently against the wall as Jungkook tugs against his restraints, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His hips buck upwards, trying to force more of himself into the palm that you keep carefully, infuriatingly slack with every stroke. He is the very picture of need with his slightly pouty mouth, effort glistening on his skin in the sparse light. You could definitely get used to a sight like this.
“Shhh, you don’t want the neighbours to hear, do you?” You whisper, amusement thick in your tone.
“Forget them,” Jungkook moans, “just don’t stop.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me commands.”
Each pump is now accompanied by a wet squelching from the pre-cum that only gathers when he’s torturously aroused. How could he not be, when the girl he’s been crushing on for god knows how long is on her knees, bent before him in only her panties? The wicked smirk playing on your lips tempts him more than you could ever know.
God. Jungkook wants to touch you. He would give anything to wrap his fingers around your waist and submerge himself in your pretty cunt. He wants to watch you fall apart at his hands like he is at yours. But you tied these restraints too well.
“You’re so cute like this, Jungkookie,” you tease, “so hard and eager.” He jerks when you push against his frenulum, groans rising in volume when you twist your wrist. “And I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” Drawing closer, you exhale, letting your hot breath dance across his shaft. His cock jerks in response.
“Want a reward?”
A desperate whimper escapes him and the tingles between your thighs practically explode. How can any one man look so delicious when he has no power at all? You want him sliding into you, can practically feel how he would stretch and force you to his shape. He could easily bottom out and then some, with a size like this. You don’t think you’ve ever craved a dick this badly before. But you remind yourself that this is meant to be a lesson for him.
“Yes.” He lifts his hips. “I’ve been good.” He’s using those adorable eyes to his advantage, unleashing them in fervent hope that you’ll cave.
“Mmm.” You let his cock fall against his taut tummy, freed fingers now running up his torso to appreciate how his sculpted body responds to your touch. “I don’t know...”
“Please…”
You kiss along his inner thigh, fighting your own urgency despite the sticky arousal pooling between your legs that you’d rather slather on his shaft. How will react when you take him in your mouth? Will he whimper, or will he groan? You’re having way too much fun with this, but there’s just something about Jungkook that is irresistible.
When you finally lick a trail up the length of his arousal, he bucks. “Ha-aah…!” Your tongue swirls around the head, dripping saliva messily around the head to really give him a show. When you cast your eyes up, he’s struck by how much he wants to shove your head down, to stuff your mischievous mouth until you’re choking on him. You recognize that glimmer in his eyes and find yourself a little relieved he’s tied up at the moment. You can’t have him interrupting you, after all.
Wrapping your lips around him, you start a suction that no man has ever been able to resist. Jungkook is no exception as the bedframe is sent shaking again, especially when he hits the back of your throat. You can hardly keep your jaw open but it’s worth it if you can see him like this. You manage to take almost all of him into you, a hand making up for what’s left.
“I-If you keep doing that, I’ll come,” he stutters when you come up for air, tongue dragging lazily along the ridge.
“Should I let you?”
“No.” He shakes his head for emphasis.
You raise an eyebrow. “No?”
“I… I wanna come inside you instead.”
He already knows you’re on the pill. Cheeky brat. You eye him and he grins, playing innocent, though you both know he’s fooling no one. As much as you want to turn him down for sheer satisfaction, his cock is too convincing. You reach for your panties.
As you peel the ruined fabric away from your soaked cunt, you point a stern finger at Jungkook. “No moving. Or else.”
“Okay.”
He’s holding his breath as he watches you straddle him, shifting into the perfect position that he half-wishes was over his mouth. He hopes there will be time for that later. At least, he’ll be trying his best to make time. For now…
You lower, and the glans parts your folds, sinks inside. “Oh, goooood.” Nothing could have prepared you for this. You are going to be so sore tomorrow, but right now all you want is more. “Why are you so big?” You cling to his sides, focusing on just breathing. Your clit is begging to be touched with each inch that you take.
“You like it that much?” Jungkook sounds proud.
“Maybe.” You can feel him everywhere, the fullness that violates your senses and forces all thought to dissipate. “Just. Maybe.”
When he’s hilted, when your thighs are meeting his and you feel him nudging against your cervix, you have to pause to gather yourself. But that doesn’t last; you can’t resist from sliding yourself along the dick that only seems to get harder inside your heat. He’s watching you, eyes glued to your form as you tremble and shudder, a carnal beauty that he can’t believe is all his, at least for the next few moments.
You were trying to hold back your moans, but they start to drop freely from your lips by the third stroke as you adjust to catch your clit on his pelvic bone. He loves when you grind against him, so blissed out that you’ll do anything if it means you’ll cum. You were right, he thinks, that there would be no going back from this. He already knows he’ll never get enough of how you throw your head back and ride him, thighs slamming into him, cunt impossibly tight and dripping because of him. It almost makes being tied up worth it. Almost.
You’re getting faster. The bed whines under the weight and motion as you swing your gaze up and find him just as drowning in this as you are. His hair is a mess against the pillows, half-obscuring those lust-consumed eyes. No matter how your muscles ache, you can’t stop. Not anymore. Not when pleasure glows white hot in your veins, ready to explode.
So close. You’re so goddamn close—
“Ah, ah, stop, stop.”
Instantly, you halt, frowning as the wisps of climax escape your gasp. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“The ties. It hurts. It really hurts.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry!” With Jungkook still buried inside you, you lean forward. You dig your nails into the knots and hurriedly undo the cloth that binds him. “There. Are you okay?”
The fabric falls onto the pillow and he rolls his wrists a few times, testing out his newfound freedom.
“Jungkook?”
His dark eyes swing up to meet yours. Uh oh.
Everything flips.
Your back hits the mattress. Strong arms wrap around you. Now Jungkook’s the one on top, body heavy, keeping you pinned. He has the audacity to smile before he gives a single pump of his agile hips, a taste of what he’s capable of.
“Did you—Jungkook!” You want to smack him, but any anger that you might have felt is overridden when he kisses you, really kisses you with an urgency that can only come from denial. Your tongues mingle and explore, tasting each other’s need like lovers starved.
“Sorry, but I have to fuck you now,” he breathes against your lips.
Your smart mouth can’t come up with a retort. Not when he’s pumping into you, using that thick cock way too well to stimulate your sweetest spots. Each slippery stroke shoves you closer to the climax that promises to break you. You’re already pulsing, nails scoring scratches on his back while he sucks at your neck, both instinctually trying to stake claim on the best sex you’ve ever had.
At his mercy, all you can do is breathe as he forces your legs back with strong arms hooked under your knees. Now he can go deeper, slam himself against your cervix while you drench him with arousal and fill the room with broken sighs. He wants every bit of his cock soaked in you.
“Baby,” he pants, bangs falling, “I love how wet you are.” Where had that pet name come from? But you’re not so much surprised as you are aroused by this side of Jungkook, carnally grunting as he ruts. “I’m close, fuck.” he spits it out like he doesn’t want this to end, and you know exactly how he feels. He reaches for your clit, haphazardly circling with his fingers and you cinch around him desperately.
Five seconds later, you’re gone.
You’re vaguely aware of the heat he spills into you as you tremble, pulsing and shaking against him as you cry his name. He gives you his deepest strokes yet before he slows, collapsing onto you, exhausted. And in this moment, all you can do is hold on to each other while pleasure rolls and ebbs, and the sparks melt into comfort and satisfaction.
Eventually, the heat is too much to take. “You’re too heavy,” you say, lightly laughing as you shove him off.
He lands facedown on the mattress with an oof. “You didn’t mind it five minutes ago.” When he looks up, rolls over to flash his teeth at you, all smiles again, you know better than to underestimate him. You let him cuddle up, rest his cheek on your arm.
“So, did I sate your curiosity?” You ask sarcastically, pressing a hand to your sweaty chest to find your heart is still racing.
Jungkook tilts his head. His eyes find yours. “Not yet.” He drops a kiss on your skin. “I think we’ll need to do it a few more times.”
You roll your eyes, though you can’t quite turn him down as his kisses get deeper, shift over to the soft skin beneath your breast. He licks the curve, nibbles. “Your sister is going to kill me.”
Pushing onto his knees, Jungkook picks up the discarded straps from the pillow. “That’s tomorrow’s problem.” He holds the ties out, and there’s that smirk again. “Now, I think it’s your turn.”
4K notes
·
View notes
SCB ~ Shifting Tides
Mafia! + Gangster! AU
Gangster! Changbin x F! Gangster! Reader x Mentioned! Woojin x Mentioned! Chan x Mentioned! Lee Know
Genre: Angst
Trigger Warnings: Drugs, Alcohol, Non Graphic Sexual Content, Slightly Graphic Depictions of Violence, Death, Rape, Self Harm, Kidnapping, Torture
Word Count: 8.5k
A/N: #NotProofread #WeDyingLikeMEN
A/N 2: Also kinda slow burn, because I’m not good at pacing lmao.
A/N 3: Title kinda doesn’t relate, but if you know, you know. I can’t wait for the next season.
A/N 4 (I’ll shut up after this dw): I did not like how it turned out because I hella rushed the ending. I wanted to get this beefy boy done and over with so… sorry if it wasn’t that great.
In life, there are limits. There are boundaries, fine lines that should never be crossed. But in a selfish world, the selfish succeeds. They thrive within the blurred lines that have been smudged and smeared to a gray area between black and white. However, is black and white really so different? Is it simply one is good and one is bad?
The color black can produce feelings of emptiness, gloom, sadness and rebellion. The color black is also affiliated with animosity, malicious intent and evil. Black can also symbolize fear or the unknown. In mainstream media, the bad guy is usually depicted donning black clothing and the good guy is in white. But is white as virtuous as it seems?
White is a visually loud color. It is hard to miss. White can be blinding and can cause headaches. It is also affiliated with coldness and loneliness. White could also be an emotional detachment or a complete cleansing and purge.
But what they both have in common, is to never judge a book by its cover.
It was a typical Friday night for you. Dark nights, crowded rooms packed with people, blaring music and flashing lights. You were feeling particularly randy that night. Boosted with liquid confidence, you adjust your wayyyy too short body hugging white dress. The dress seemed to hang dangerously low on your bust and is riding high up your thighs, leaving your rack on full display and your undergarment is barely peeking out. Your dress was riddled with many gems, rhinestones and glitter that almost made it appear as if you were glowing under the many lights of the bustling club.
Giggling to yourself, you drank the amber color liquid from your glass. You hummed pleasantly from the strong sweet rambunctious flavor and the light burning down your throat. Your head was swimming from the light buzz you were feeling as you let yourself go on the dancefloor raising your glass.
It was one of those nights where you could feel the pent up frustration residing over you like an elephant keeping you pinned down under its large foot. You needed release and what’s a better way to release pent up stress other than sex? As you were swaying your hips sensually to the flow of the song, your eyes were searching for a physically attractive man that could make you forget the maladies of your past week. Your heart swelled with pride from the several men eyeing you like a piece of candy with their bottom lip captured between their teeth. You recognized a select few, but you were sworn to only affiliating yourself to each man once. Commitment wasn’t your style, you had too much to lose. You’d rather let whatever drunken feelings dissipate by morning’s light.
You recognized a cute faced honey brown haired male. He sat in a booth by himself with distant eyes that glanced at different points of interests of the club. You couldn’t remember his name, Woo.. Woo-something, not that you cared enough to remember. Sex with him was pleasantly surprising. You were expecting a bashful innocent boy judging from his face, but he was a sex god that packed quite a punch below the belt. Your eyes nearly rolled out of your sockets seeing him in all his glory. He really fucked you dumb with his magnum dick.
Another person you recognized was a guy with crispy blond hair. Black seemed to be a natural color for him; the dark leather complimented his pale skin perfectly. You couldn’t really put a finger on anything remotely close to his name. You only remember the thick Australian accent he had. His doesn’t compare to the size of the first, but him being vocal in bed made up for it. He wasn’t much of a moaner, more of a power trip dirty talker. His accent made it all the more worth it. You could still hear his sultry “Babygirl” being whispered in your ear and it sent chills down your spine.
The last guy you recognized was the blue haired performer on the club stage. He wore a skimpy outfit: a long sleeved crop top and a matching black booty shorts. The way he danced around that pole was so fluid, you wondered if he even had any bones. You only remembered his name because of how dumb it was. What kind of name was Lee Know anyway? Initially, you absolutely refused to moan out his dumb name, but how he used his stick when he dicked you down was jaw dropping. It’s probably because of his damn dancer hips.
You were currently being courted by this much older guy who reeks of alcohol, but you had a much higher standard. Your eyes caught a glimpse of this dark guy. He sat next to the Aussie. His body was facing you on the stool. His legs were wide open practically inviting you in between them, but his upper body was twisted and turned to face the same direction as the Aussie who was sitting with his back facing towards you. You rebuffed the older man who had his hands on your hips and is licking your neck, walking out of his grasp without sparing him a second glance. You stood in between the man dressed in full black’s legs and leaned forward, resting your hands on his thighs making sure to show off your rack. The male quickly whipped his upper body to face you with wide eyes.
“Damn, babygirl,” the Aussie noticed your presence as well and gave a quick slap on your ass.
“Not tonight, baby boy,” you smirked with your eyes still glued to the handsome man before you.
The Aussie huffed as turned away taking another swig of his drink. You eyed the man before you. His dark hair was delicately tucked under his black cap. He wore a tight black tee that accentuates his broad and tone chest. He also had a leather jacket slung over one of his legs.
“Do you have a weapons license? Because look at these guns,” you chuckled feeling his broad muscles on his thick arms.
The man scoffed with a small smile obviously amused by your attempts at flirting.
“Not bad,” he smirked. Your ears buzzed hearing his raspy and rough voice. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Changbin chuckled reaching behind and roughly grabbed your thighs and pulled you onto his lap. You teased him a bit by grinding your clothed heat against his thigh.
“So your place or mine, handsome?” you inquired, biting your lip and running a finger along his fly.
“Mine, it’s closer,” he whispered kissing along your neck.
You hummed in delight. “Shall we be off then?”
Changbin nodded softly, putting his hands on your hips and lifted you up slowly. He slapped the Aussie’s shoulder to signify that he was leaving. In an act of chivalry, he led you out of the bustling club with a hand on the small of your back and pushing away any drunk guys who’s trying to grab at you. Once you both were outside and the door closed behind you. The loud music transitioned to muffled noise. You shivered when you felt the cool breeze. It seemed as if a storm was coming in. Changbin then decadently draped his leather jacket over your exposed shoulders.
“So chivalry isn’t dead,” you chuckled.
“I’m not as bad as I look,” Changbin smirked outstretching an arm, pointing the direction of his apartment.
“I haven’t seen you around. You new to this area?”
“No, I actually frequent the club every week. You’re there every time,” Changbin chuckled, pulling out a cigarette and placing it within his lips. He offered the box to you with a cig protruding out.
“And you’ve done nothing about it? I’m not that alluring to you?” you smirked accepting his cigarette and placing it between your lips as well. You both leaned forward so the ends touch. Changbin covered the connection with his hand as he lit both cigs simultaneously.
He took one long drag of the cig and exhaling out the smoke. “I don’t take advantage of women.”
“How quaint.”
~
Once the doors have closed, all bets were off. Changbin has pinned you against his door as lips are met in a heated kiss with clashing teeth. You immediately shrugged off your (his) jacket, letting the leather material fall to the floor. Your hands flew to his belt and began loosening the material as he hiked up your already too short dress to get full access to your bottom.
“Are you gonna lead me to a bed or are you going to fuck me on this doorway, handsome?” you smirked, pulling away momentarily to catch a breath. He let out a guttural growl before hoisting you in his arms with his hands supporting your knees.
You both collapsed on the sheets as he pulled up the cover to drape over both your sweaty bodies.
“I never did catch your name,” he turned to face you, resting his head in his hand.
“Y/N,” you spoke out. “What about you, handsome?”
“SpearB,” he spoke out pridefully.
“Oh, so you’re CB97’s guy?” you smirked looking deep into his eyes.
His expression fell as his gaze darkened.
“You…know about us?” Changbin growled out threateningly.
“Only by name, it’s nice to put a face to it though,” you giggled patting his cheek softly. You sat up, swinging your legs off the edge of the bed and stood up, exposing your naked back in all of its glory to him. You bent down to slide on your party dress.
“Well, I shall be off. Thanks for the wild night, B,” you winked at him and tossed him your lace panty. He effortlessly caught it with his free hand. “A gift for you.”
Needless to say, you’ve caught Changbin’s attention. You were a total enigma that he desperately wanted to solve. It was icing on the cake that you were easy on the eyes as well.
“Chan hyung, do you think you can find out who that girl is?” Changbin asked leaning over Chan’s shoulder.
“Who do you think I am? CB97 is the best hacker in the underground,” Chan chuckled running his fingers through his blond hair and taking a long drag of his blunt. “Was she a good fuck?”
Changbin chuckled, “you had her before. How could you hold back this valuable information?”
“I never knew you were interested! Here, I got her,” Chan gestured Changbin to gaze at his laptop screen.
“Ally or enemy?” Changbin’s lips quirked upward gazing at the stunning picture of you.
“Amicable,” Chan clarified.
Changbin hummed in response. “I want her. There’s something about her that’s so alluring. She’s like a puzzle box that I desperately want to solve.”
“Careful, mate. Every lovely rose has its own thorns,” Chan warned.
“It’ll be fine. She has no fixed affiliation with a specific gang, she could join ours as my girl,” Changbin smirked, the air filled with his hubris.
“Alright. It seems her day cover is a barista job at Yellow Wood Cafe. You can take bus 4419 there.”
~
It had been almost 2 months since you last saw Changbin. Of course you knew who he was. His actual name, his face and who he was affiliated with, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you saw him around. CB97 was a true mystery though. As far as you knew, he was never seen in public and several other gangs and mafias in the area tried to gather as much info on the man, but couldn’t even get a face, not even a name.
You pulled your long hair into a high ponytail as you tie on your apron over your modest white dress shirt and black pencil skirt. It was early morning and you were the only one running the morning shift. Your coworkers would usually trickle in one by one about an hour to half before noon. There was also not that many customers, just the usual regulars. The second you see them walk in, you would get straight to work fixing up their drinks. As you served an elderly man his coffee, the hanging door bell rang as you were pouring the elderly man milk in his coffee.
“Welcome to Yellow Wood Caf…e,” you trailed off seeing the man standing in the doorway. His dark locks was slicked up exposing his forehead and showed off his intricate face. He wore clothing similar to what he had on when you saw him in the club: tight black shirt tucked into his dark jeans with fingerless leather gloves. The only thing different is that he was a very loose and worn black cotton vest. With his smirking face, it was Seo “SpearB” Changbin himself.
“For one,” he stated with his sultry voice.
“Anywhere you like,” you smiled with a plastic smile as you gestured to all the empty seats. You followed him to a corner table in the sun as he sat down in the wooden chair. You placed a menu on the table in front of him.
“No need,” he waved at the menu. “I just want coffee as dark as my soul.”
“So coffee with extra cream and sugar and a hefty amount of milk?”
Changbin spluttered choking on his saliva. “I am dark.”
“Sure,” you smirked as you walked away to pour a glass of dark coffee.
You delicately placed the glass cup before him as you took the seat in front of him.
“Why are you here?” you frowned.
“What’s wrong with going to a cafe for coffee?” he smiled innocently.
“I don’t think you’re here for coffee,” you crossed your arms at his remark.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he responded coyly.
“Of course not,” you remarked sarcastically.
“Alright, you got me,” he brought up his hands up in surrender. “I’m just here for the barista.”
“No,” you stated with finality as you left your seat.
Changbin however didn’t let that phase him. Everyday that week, Changbin frequented your cafe, coming in at the same time, ordering the same drink and sitting in the same corner table. Every single time, he wore black clothing. If you didn’t know better, you would assume he wore the exact same clothing every single time.
“You’re not going to give up, aren’t you?” you snapped, pouring him his drink.
“Please, just join my bed and lay by my side,” Changbin smirked darkly.
You huffed. “Straight to the point, huh? Fine. I’ll meet you at your apartment tonight.”
Changbin internally cheered and threw up an imaginary fist in victory. His heart and stomach did flips within him, but externally, he was calm and collected as he took another sip of his coffee.
As promised, you did show up to his apartment late at night. It was around 10 when you finally arrived. Changbin sat around anxious twiddling his thumbs fearing that you had stood him up. In reality, you were caught up in work because the café was understaffed. A few of your coworkers were feverish and never showed. You showed up still in uniform.
By the time you and Changbin had gone a couple of rounds, it was well past midnight and a storm was brewing. Lightning flashed as rain lightly pattered the window.
“Why don’t you stay the night?” Changbin offered. “A storm looks as if it’s going to come in.”
You sighed sitting up on his bed. Changbin tossed you one of his hoodies that was discarded on the ground.
“Your hoodie smells like shit,” you laughed sliding it over your naked body. You weren’t necessarily lying. The material reeked of alcohol, drugs and sex.
Changbin snorted sliding on a pair of black boxers.
“Might as well. I’ve already broken many rules staying here,” you sighed jumping back on his bed.
“What do you mean?” Changbin asked.
“I don’t sleep with guys twice and look at us now going for round 2.”
“I’m flattered. Settling with just one dick isn’t your style?” Changbin chuckled.
“Commitment isn’t my style. I don’t want to catch feelings,” you frowned looking off to the side, unable to face him.
“Why is that?” Changbin asked concerned. His voice was laced with worry and his tone suggested that he was genuinely interested. You internally rolled your eyes at your thoughts.
“You could only be betrayed if you trust. You could only be heartbroken if you love. To experience pain, you had to feel. I don’t want to go through that again…” you trailed off.
“Is this why you’re not tied with any gangs?” Changbin asked softly.
“Yes. I don’t trust people. They always end up leaving one way or another or using me.”
“I won’t leave you,” Changbin blurted out without thinking. You glared at the man after hearing his words. Even though Changbin hadn’t meant to say it, he meant it. He genuinely wanted to get to know you better.
“How can I trust you? You’re just a gangster at the end of the day,” you spat.
“Have you ever heard the saying ‘there is more honor among thieves than diplomats?’” Changbin started. “You and I both know that it holds water.”
You scoffed. He wasn’t technically wrong. Many of the gangs run on social solidarity and a sense of a brotherhood. Many people thrive on the fact that you can do stuff with your “brothers”: drink with your brothers, do drugs with your brothers, etc. It’s a way of escaping life. You, however, favor the physical relationships that would disappear by morning’s light. You let out a loud groan, thinking long and hard about Changbin’s proposal.
“Many people have hurt you. I won’t be one of them. I refuse to be a statistic.”
You stared deep within Changbin’s soul through his eyes. He seemed unphased and determined against your steel will. Not wanting to deal with his determination, you changed the subject.
“A drink isn’t going to cut it. You got any drugs?” You swung your legs over the edge of the bed as you waltzed out of his room with Changbin following suit.
“Uhh.. yea. What are you hoping for?” Changbin asked pulling out ziplock bags of drugs and setting it on the table before you. “I have a fair bit of weed and a few that will definitely fuck you up.”
“You don’t really seem like the type to do drugs,” you chuckled.
“I’m not. Just mainly weed and only then, I don’t do it much. You’re not the type to do drugs either.”
“Got me there. I’m actually planning to grab and go,” you jested lightheartedly, eliciting a laugh from him.
“Wow [by 3RACHA]. Going to make some bank off of drugs that’s not even yours. Shady.”
You laughed wholeheartedly in return.
“So,” you started off.
“So?” Changbin called off heading towards his mini fridge and grabbing two beers, handing one towards you.
“So you’ve gotten your gain. What is mine?” you asked with a hint of mischievousness laced in your voice, taking a small sip of your beer.
“You know this all underground stuff with gangs, killings, alcohol, drugs and shit. You can’t leave once you’re caught up with this shit. It just… takes control of your life. Your life isn’t yours anymore. Ya feel me?”
“Yea… I feel you,” you nodded. “Is this why you’ve never given out your actual name?”
“It’s sacred to me. It’s the only part of me I have left.”
~
Being alone in these sorts of dealings is way less than ideal, especially when you’re basically flying solo. You had no gang to watch over you and no family or friends to rely on. A price to pay in order to protect yourself. You would rather die alone, than die heartbroken.
Your day job did little to support you. You never would’ve predicted you would even end up in the life you’re in now. You felt pressured by the world, ready to give up. You found a way to relieve those built up tensions by many many one night stands. However, this has caused you a bit of trouble since you unintentionally riled up underground crime lords who are spoiled rotten that they can not take no for an answer and stuck with the “if I can’t have you, no one can” kind of schtick. So you learned to survive and bounce around various protections but without actually getting involved.
You were currently commissioned by one of the resident local gangs who needed your aid to ensure a highly important deal is a success. You were never told the details, just that it had to be passed. All you were told is that you were to meet up with your client's… client and trade the briefcase you’re provided with with theirs with the instructions to never look inside either of the briefcases. Your payment? Protection from those who want you gone before, during and after the deal. Afterwards, you would basically be set free as vulnerable as a deer caught in headlights until you find another job to do.
You fiddled with the hem of your black skin tight leather dress as another finger twisted and curled a strand of your hair. The briefcase was rested snugly by your feet as you leaned your body against the wall.
“Y/N?” a voice whispered out to you in the shadows.
“SpearB? Are you… the client?"
"No… I’m the messenger. I didn’t think you were one of them,” Changbin set down his briefcase and crossed his arms.
“I’m the same as you, a messenger as well. I was hired to make sure this…whatever this is, is a success.”
“… I see.” Changbin paused. “You don’t need to do this you know? Hopping from job to job. One day you’re going to run into a gang who will see your job hopping as disloyalty. And you know what happens to people who are disloyal. You could come with us, with me.”
“I already said no, SpearB. I only agreed to try out…whatever we are. Don’t make this any harder for me and give me your damn briefcase!” You outreached your hand suggesting Changbin to just hand over his briefcase.
He sighed. “On one condition.”
“What?” you growled out.
“Do jobs for CB97.”
“Sure, I’m going to do jobs for an enigma,” you grumbled reaching for the briefcase with Changbin lifting it above his head out of your reach.
“Please,” Changbin whispered softly.
“Fine,” you gave in after a pause and handed him your briefcase and he handed you his.
“You’re going to go back to your client right? Let me come with you,” Changbin walked forward and grasping your wrist gently.
“No-”
“Please, I know who your guy is. He’s dangerous. I’m just a messenger, he probably won’t know who I am,” Changbin pressed. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”
You let out a loud defeated sigh.
~
“You were followed?” your client, growled out eyeing the dark male behind you.
“Hakuna your-tatas, babe. He’s with me,” you rolled your eyes, scoffing softly before proceeding to place your (Changbin’s) briefcase on the table.
“But you work alone…” your client eyed you warily, and carefully grabbed a hold of the briefcase with high precaution.
“You seem to know me. Clearly not well enough,” you waltzed over to Changbin with a slight swagger to your hips and grabbed his lower jaw. Your fingers pressed into the soft flesh of his cheeks and squishing them up. You chuckled internally at Changbin’s expression when you did that.
“He’s my baby boy, my boy toy. Surely, a pimp like you can understand,” you responded cheekily, yet carefully trying not to rile up your client. “Look at him being a good boy. Standing there silent, waiting for mommy to finish her job."
You squished his cheeks even more until his lips scrunched up into an expression similar to a fish. You got up to your toes and gave him a light kiss to his lips. Needless to say, the glare Changbin shot towards you was priceless.
"Rigghhhttttt….” your client coughed out, feeling slightly awkward about the situation. He turned the briefcase towards him and began undoing the clasps. You slowly closed the gap between you and the client. You leaned forward slowly, the sounds of distress from your leather dress due to the stretch broke through the silence. Your pressed your palms onto the cool metal of the table and slowly spread your arms. Your client glanced up at you and down to your exposed cleavage. While he was distracted, Changbin circled around the room slowly, pretending to seem interested to the many dust unsettling from the ceiling. You eyed Changbin curiously. You confused glare burned through him. You were sure Changbin could feel your gaze boring into him due to him stiffing up momentarily.
“I did what you asked. I got your pretty briefcase. May I get going now? I promised my baby boy there a wild night,” you smirked, wanting nothing more to do with this man. You only cared about your payment for rent.
Your client snapped out of his daze of ogling over your cleavage. He cleared his throat and regained his composure.
“Of course, if this deal actually went through. You would get your payment,” he replied, carefully unclasping the briefcase. You hummed pleasantly in relief from him finally getting to the point.
“What the fuck?” your client seethed.
“Is something the matter, hand-” you were cut off by your client grasping your neck harshly. His large fingers wrapped around the delicate flesh most likely leaving bruises as he cut off your air supply.
“You bitch,” he spat at you. Flecks of saliva flew to your face as you attempted to pry his hand off of you. “You gave me a false briefcase, didn’t you. This shit is empty-”
“Let her go.” A soft click of a gun echoed through the air. Your client’s eyes widened at the realization that a gun was pressed to the back of his head. He slowly released your neck and raised his arms up. You stumbled backwards hacking and gasping for air.
“What?” your client’s voice was breathless. “Who?-”
“SpearB. Ring a bell? She didn’t swap your damn case. It was empty to begin with. Her orders were only to swap the case and bring it back and to never look at the contents.”
Your gaze darkened at Changbin’s words as you raised your head to glare at him. How did he know what your actual orders was?
Feeling a pair of eyes burning through him, Changbin glanced at you with an apologetic look.
“B? What the fuck?” You gritted out through clenched teeth.
A hesitation. A moment of weakness. That was all the client needed. Changbin eased up slightly to apologize. The client easily grabbed ahold of Changbin’s armed hand and twisted it behind his back trying wretch the weapon out of his hand. With hands quicker than the eye, the tables were quickly turned and it is now Changbin at gunpoint with his own gun.
“SpearB? So you’re part of 3RACHA? I didn’t think 3RACHA cared about anyone other than yourselves? Only using everyone to benefit yourselves. Like that little lady over there-”
A shot. A singular shot rang out that had Changbin jumping in shock wide eyed. Ugly screams echoed throughout the small walls as red dripped down to the floor, splashing onto Changbin as well. The client quickly cowered back into the corner, dropping the gun in the process. His hands flew up to cup his now missing lower jaw, the mandible bouncing pathetically on the ground in between Changbin’s feet.
“Holy. Shit.” Changbin exasperated jumping away from the bloody jaw. He looked up to you shocked, yet in awe wielding a S&W revolver, a thin wispy smoke came from the barrel.
You quickly pointed your gun at Changbin who brought his hands up in surprise.
“Don’t shoot,” Changbin stated calmly yet alarmed.
“Get out, B,” he nodded, bending down to grab his gun quickly and headed towards the door.
“After you,” he gestured to the door politely.
The client’s howls of pain can be heard echoing down the alleyway once the door has been opened. Changbin quickly shut him up with a singular bullet in between his eyes and closing the door behind him.
The second the door closes, you swung your leg backwards at an arn in an attempt to roundhouse kick him. Changbin reacts by blocking the hit with his forearm. His other hand instinctively grabbed at your ankle. You attempted to catch you balance by shifting your weight from your other foot to your palms pressing against the cold asphalt.
“Nice moves,” Changbin smirked, letting out a sultry chuckle. You huffed in annoyance.
“I was wondering where did you manage to hide that big boy?” He asked referring to the gun.
“Ever heard of a prison purse?” you retorted.
“Jesus Christ, that was a lot of heat woman.”
“So?”
Changbin backed off with both hands in the air, dropping your leg in the process.
“Whatever,” you growled crawling forwards to jump back on your feet. “How did you know what’s my mission?”
“My mission was to basically off the guy, but you’ve already got that covered,” Changbin crossed his arms ignoring your question.
“So you were using me?”
“No I-” he tried to interject, but you didn’t give him the chance.
“Just save it, B,” you stormed off, feeling betrayed and used.
~
It’s been a week after that incident. The both of you end up in the same club you’ve met, but never again frequented afterwards. On opposite sides of the club, you were drinking and partying on the dance floor, grinding on random men trying to ease the heavy feeling in your heart. Changbin was at the bar chugging down cup after cup of the hard liquor with a blunt between two fingers. Your mind was swimming in alcohol, but the only thing you can think of was how much you fucking missed Changbin and seeing his back turned to you at the bar only emphasized those feelings.
You slumped down next to him on the stool and he turned to look at you with wide eyes. You noticed the blunt in his hands and frowned and a pang of pain bubbled in your chest.
“I thought you didn’t do drugs…” you whispered out.
“It’s just weed,” Changbin scoffed.
You both turned away from each other, both suddenly finding their glass cups very interesting.
“I’m sorry,” the pair confessed simultaneously.
“Wait what?” Changbin breathed out looking at you bewildered.
“Why are you sorry?” You squeaked out, surprised.
“For using you…” Changbin confesses looking down and slumping his shoulders. “It wasn’t that I meant to use you, it was just the cards I was dealt. I hadn’t expected you to be the man’s hired bargainer. I was under the impression that he would show up himself due to the utmost importance of this trade.”
“Yes… I completely understand that. It wasn’t your fault, you were just doing your job. That’s why I wanted to apologize… I was being unfair to you…” you trailed off. “I missed you, Changbin-”
You tried to stop yourself, but it was already too late. The damage was done. Changbin visibly stiffened up. His drunken brain sobered up to the sound of his own name.
“W-Wait, B,” you stammered.
Suddenly, it is as if the world disappeared around Changbin. The blaring music and bass faded away to muffles in his ears. His heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears. He felt small and helpless. Alone in this dark world with a singular light shining directly at him.
“B?” you whimpered out, your fingers grazing his muscles lightly. “SpearB… I- I didn’t mean-”
Changbin swiftly backhands you without a second thought. Your eyes were wide as your head turned from the force of the impact. Your cheek was red and stinging but it was nothing compared to guilt eating away at your soul. He then storms off, leaving a heartbroken you behind.
“Han!” Changbin called out to his junior. Changbin’s booming voice tearing through the club bass made his junior jump and choke on the smoke from the bong he was ripping. “Give me some of the heavy shit.”
Han coughed, trying to catch his breath. “Are you sure, hyung? I thought you didn’t do drugs?”
“I just need to get blasted right now,” Changbin eyed the various items on the table: several bags of probably meth and cocaine as well as several syringes of heroin plus the bong sitting on his lap.
“I gave you a blunt earlier?”
“For fuck’s sake, Jisung, just give me some crack cocaine or some shit.” Changbin snapped sitting opposite of Han in the booth, and pulling out a credit card. Jisung sighed and slid a ziplock bag filled with white powder in front of him. Changbin grabbed a hold of the plastic and dumped a generous amount directly on the table. He used his credit card to separate the powder into several lines.
“You got a bill?”
“What happened to all your money?” his junior going at it again with his bong.
“I drank it,” Changbin replied seriously.
“I don’t think you should be doing drugs with alcohol.”
“I don’t need a lecture, Han,” Changbin grumbled leaning forward, plugging up a nostril, snorting up a line. Changbin sighed in content. A euphoric feeling washed over his body, turning his brain into putty.
Everybody in this club probably have done drugs at least once, mainly weed, but it’s a drug nonetheless. Some kept at it. His junior, Han “J.One” Jisung, has prob hit every one at least once. Some didn’t like how the after effects outweighed the euphoric effects and dropped it entirely like his senior, Bang “CB97” Chan. But besides this, everyone has their drug, the drug that will just click and consume their entire body and soul.
Unfortunately for Changbin. It was cocaine. His alcohol intake hastened effects of the drug and he found the feeling to be addicting and euphoric. He felt as if he was on Cloud 9 and in heaven.
And he couldn’t stop.
~
“Hey,” a voice called out. “Hey!”
You jolted awake at the hand shaking your shoulder gently. You winced at the pounding headache you had. You looked up recognizing the pale man with crispy blond hair.
“Sorry to wake you up, but do you know where SpearB is?” he asked. You can pick out his ear candy Australian accent.
Right. You remember where you were. You tried to find Changbin after he stormed off at the club after him giving you a nasty blow on your cheek, but to no success. You lost him within the crowd of clubbers and there were too many men trying to lay their hands on you. So you went to his apartment and fell asleep at his door waiting for his return.
“Is SpearB not with you?” the blond asked.
“N-no?” you stuttered. “He never came home?”
“Shit,” the blond breathed out, running a hand through his hair. “That was not the answer I wanted to hear.”
“What is it…?” You tried to remember the Aussie’s name, but nothing came to mind.
“CB97,” he responded, leaning against the wall and throwing his head back. His skull bounced off the wall lightly as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. You gasped, eyeing the blond in front of you.
CB97? THE CB97? An enigma in the underground and one of the most powerful men to top it off? And you’ve slept with him and then you’ve slept with one of his guys and deeply hurt him. Your mouth gaped open as all that ran in your mind was that you were thoroughly fucked and not by a dick.
“Relax. I have no quarrel with you,” he responded, smiling softly to show that he has no ill intentions. What he said next made your racing heart drop straight down to your stomach.
“SpearB is missing.”
~
Changbin awoke in a cold sweat. His head was throbbing. Everything felt cold. He felt cold, yet his body was burning up. Sweat was running down his temples and his back in streams causing his shirt to stick to his skin uncomfortably. Changbin was sobbing, tears were running down his face. It felt as if there were a million fire ants crawling beneath his skin, nipping and gnawing at his flesh as the symptoms of withdrawal hit him hard and fast.
Changbin squirmed and thrashed only to quickly realize that he was in a chair with his arms and legs bound and chained at the wrists and ankles. His heart was hammering in his chest not necessarily from the fear of being bound and imprisoned, more so from the side effects of his withdrawals as he screwed his eyes shut.
“Good morning, sunshine,” a voice called out. Changbin peeked at the figure in front of him. He was stood in the dark with a singular hanging light over Changbin. Changbin could barely make out the blurry figure; all he got was that he was dressed in all black with a hood, mask and sunglasses.
“What do you want?” Changbin rasped out, his throat was dry and it felt like he was swallowing pins and needles when he swallowed in attempt to moisturize his throat.
“You should know what I’m looking for,” the man chuckled. “Tell me who are the rest of 3RACHA.”
“No.” Changbin responded firmly without hesitation. A loud crack ran through the air not even a second later. Changbin’s head was thrown to the side, eyes wide and a split cheek.
“I’d suggest you make this easier on yourself and just give me the names,” the man growled sliding on black latex gloves.
It’s been a daze. Changbin had no idea how much time has passed. His face was battered and bruised and blood was running down his nose in streams staining his lips and teeth red as he has a constant metallic taste on his lips. He’s currently sitting in isolation alone in the dark with the light off. The room was soundproof with no windows so Changbin hadn’t the slightest what is going on outside or even where he was. His entire body was burning up and trembling profusely from his drug withdrawals and his stomach constricted painfully yearning for food.
Soon a door opened and the familiar man walked in closing the door behind him.
“Care to talk now?”
“No,” the man’s response was a swift kick to Changbin’s torso causing him to double forward to cough and wheeze.
“So, how was it in isolation? Are you thirsty? Does your back hurt from being slouched over for too long?”
Changbin could only merely glare.
“Here, let me help.”
The man carefully unbounded the straps on Changbin’s wrists and ankles and proceeded to drag him out by his forearm. He didn’t take him very far, just the next room over. The next room was as bare as the one he was in, save for a singular table in the center along with hanging LED lights that were currently off.
“Get on,” the man commanded. Changbin reluctantly complied due to the piercing pain in his legs. Changbin lied flat on the cool metal table as the man strapped him down once more.
“Aren’t I so generous? You must be tired sitting in the dark all day long,” his tone was apathetic as he turned to leave and flicked the light switch on. Changbin winced at the harsh light shining directly to his face as he screwed his eyes shut. Suddenly, he heard a rattling of a chain and the sound of a metal trap door opening. Before he can fully comprehend what was happening, his nose and mouth were suddenly flooded with water. Changbin gasped and sputtered after the first wave. Before he could fully recover, a second wave came in and it kept coming.
“Do you want to talk now?” the man’s voice played through an intercom.
“Fuck. You.”
“Wrong answer.”
Changbin got waterboarded once more.
~
“I gotta say. You’re pretty impressive. Your resilience and determination would be awe inspiring if not annoying,” the man started, forcing a taser into Changbin’s chest. Changbin was now strapped back to his original chair after the man failed at breaking him with the use of waterboarding.
“Since you don’t want to talk about the other members of 3RACHA. Let’s talk about you,” the man started, walking circles around Changbin.
“You’ve always been on your own. Taking control of your own life. Never bowing down to anyone or anything, but somehow the great SpearB was managed to be tamed and now you’re under the command of CB97. CB97,” the man chuckled speaking out that code name. “CB97. Ever the enigma. Managed to strap down one of the finest underground hitman, SpearB and one other. So much influence and power, yet no one can touch him. Not even a name or a face have come to light.”
Changbin eyed the man with pure hatred and disgust.
“But it seems CB97 isn’t the way to go here. How about that girl who has no affiliation in the underground?”
Changbin’s breath hitched. The man smiled wickedly. “Jackpot.”
~
“How long has it been since he’s been missing?” you asked pacing back and forth in the dark room.
“A little over a week now. J.One is out there hustling for as much info as he can get,” CB97 informed. “A part of me was hoping he just went away for a little while and then reappear.”
“It’s all my fault,” you blurted out. “I always end up sleeping my way into a fucked up position.”
“I’m not blaming you and neither would SpearB.”
“What makes you say that for certain?”
“Because he loves you.”
~
Howls of pain ripped through Changbin’s throat, his throat now as red and raw and the pulsating flesh on his fingers.
“Did you really think she cared for you?” the man growled, wrenching off another fingernail with pliers.
“You don’t know anything about her,” Changbin growled out.
“Probably not, but she knows you. Seo Changbin is it not?”
“How did you-”
“What do you think?” the man smirked, turning away and pulling out an unknown syringe, giving it a light press and flicking it to get rid of oxygen bubbles.
“No. Not-” Changbin was cut off by the man injecting the strange liquid into his arm.
“Seo Changbin. August 11, 1999.”
“Shut up! Shut up!” Changbin’s vision was getting blurry as his head was turning to mush.
“Do you still believe that that girl is innocent? She only does what she does to benefit herself. Why do you think she has no affiliations? Why do you think she’s been keeping the fact that she knows your real name from you?”
Changbin’s head slumped forward in defeat.
“Now… tell me their names or I can bring her to you so you can watch her break.”
~
“You can’t be serious, Changbin? Even now you refuse to speak even with that drug I’ve injected and a knife deeply embedded in your thigh?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Changbin spat his blood at the man.
“I’ve had enough of you!”
“How ironic,” Changbin chuckled. “You’re trying to break me, but you’re the one breaking.”
Changbin couldn’t see the man’s face, but he could imagine the scowl he’s wearing and dilated eyes. The man growled and pulled out the knife. Changbin bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wouldn’t give his captor the final satisfaction of hearing his cry. The man brought the blade to Changbin’s neck, prompting him to bring his head up to glare at the man.
Before the man could do any damage, a muffled explosion went off in the background. The room shook slightly as dust unsettled from the ceiling. The door was busted open and in comes in CB97 and J.One, both wielding guns.
“Y/N,” CB97 called out. “SpearB out of here. We’ll take care of this mess.”
You appeared behind pair, nodding softly and rushed towards Changbin who passed out. His body finally shutting down after seeing the familiar faces, knowing that he was being saved.
~
Changbin wakes up some time later. His lips were chapped as he panted for air through his dry throat. Changbin’s eyes were bloodshot and heavy bags decorated his eyes. His head snapped up feeling a light pressure on his thigh.
“How are you feeling, B?” you asked softly, bandaging up his thigh.
“You.”
“B?-”
“Did you think you can take advantage of me? Just use me for your own benefit?”
“SpearB, please-”
Changbin cut you off by flipping both your positions.
“What’s wrong? You take advantage of men by sleeping with them and seducing them? Look, I’m in just my boxers.”
“SpearB, stop. You were drugged, just go to sleep and we’ll talk-”
Changbin shut you up with a harsh slap.
“Talk? Just like how you talked to that guy who kidnapped me?” Changbin growled pulling your shorts and panties in one fell swoop.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried placing a hand on his chest to get him to slow down. Changbin very quickly pinned both your wrists above your head with a single hand, the other running up your (his) hoodie raking his fingers over your bare flesh.
“Quiet and take it.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to obey him. You let out a shaky exhale when you felt a sharp pressure from down below. You winced once he began snapping his hips against yours without giving you any time to adjust.
“Did you really think you could take advantage of me like that? How does it feel now when the shoes on the other foot?”
“No, please. Just listen- Aah!” he cut you off with a particularly hard thrust. “P-please, that’s not how I truly feel about you. I meant what I said back at the club.”
“Yeah? Then how do you feel?” he growled out.
“I would die for you.”
“Then perish.” Changbin’s eyes darkened as it bored into your soul. He pulled out of your throbbing heat as it pulsated lightly with pain. His sharp gaze looked at you expectantly as you sat up and curl into yourself feeling so exposed and little under his gaze.
You gasp out, nodding solemnly. You delicately pulled out a pocket knife from your discarded shorts you kept on you for self defense. You start just below your jawbone to the left and began slicing, blood is pouring out as the stainless steel blade sliced through skin, flesh and muscle like butter. The sight of the brilliant red liquid spewing out sobers up Changbin a bit. Changbin stops her by grabbing her wrist preventing further damage.
“Why did you stop me?” you seethed, tears pouring down your face.
“Because I didn’t think you were actually going to do it!” He snaps, gritting his teeth together. His breath fanned over your face, his eyes red and bloodshot.
“Let me go, Changbin,” you sniffled, forgetting why you were in this position in the first place.
The sound of his name escaping your lips fueled the burning rage within him. Memories of the club played through his mind like a broken record. The breathy sound of his name escaping your lips mixed in with the loud blaring bass of the club and the chatter of the surrounding clubbers. He finally realized the humiliation of having that last thing he held sacred been outed to the world, leaving him feeling small and vulnerable like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP,” he shouts like a mantra. “Don’t say that name like you OWN ME!”
You tried to back up and crawl away, but the throbbing pain in your nether regions and your putty legs made it difficult.
“B… SpearB, I’m sorry,” you sobbed out.
“JUST SHUT UP!” He very quickly overpowered you and bringing you down flush to the ground with his weight.
“Just shut your whore mouth!” At this point, all Changbin saw was red. His large hands quickly wrapped around your small neck. Tears were dripping from his ducts, the droplets landing on your cheeks. You gasped and gurgled as you clawed his wrists to get him to let go. Crimson red began dotting at his wrists from where your nails broke skin as it slowly rolled down and joined the crimson fluid that was gushing through his fingers from your neck.
“Just shut up,” he sniffled, his voice cracking and breaking at the last word. Your eyes were blown out as tears free flowed down your temples soaking you messed locks. Drool was also dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.
Suddenly black dots began appearing within both your visions for you from oxygen deprivation and for changbin from the side effects finally kicking in. Darkness finally enveloped the pair and Changbin slumped over your body as the light from your eyes faded and you took your final breath.
Daybreak broke, CB97 and J.One found their way into Changbin’s apartment.
CB97 very quickly notices a very naked Changbin and a semi naked you on the floor. He quickly rushed forward pulling Changbin off of you and attempted to shake him awake. J.One carefully pulled down the material of your (Changbin’s) hoodie to cover yourself and pressed his fingers against your neck hoping to find a pulse. He looked up at CB97 and shook his head.
Changbin wakes up in a slight daze, trying to get a footing of what happened last night. His head was throbbing as he blinked multiple times trying to get rid of the blurriness. What was discerning to him was how he could not for the life of him remember anything that happened after he passed out in that chair. Soon his vision focused on the blank stare of your body beside him.
“Y/N?” he whispered out.
“Y/n? Y/N!” he struggled out of CB97’s grip and shoved J.One aside, sending his junior flying backwards straight on his ass.
Changbin tries waking Y/N up by shaking her shoulders vigorously but to no avail. Quickly Changbin pressed an ear to her chest.
“She isn’t breathing!” Changbin sobbed. “Save her!”
CB97 and J.One attempt to pry him off you.
“Changbin stop! She’s gone.”
Changbin got out of their grip and rush over to you, cradling you softly in his arms as if you were made of glass.
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry Y/N…”
All CB97 and J.One could do was watch their friend in pity.
166 notes
·
View notes