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#not great for people with sight issues though
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Dear magisowo
I just moved into a new home, and, on paper, it had everything I needed: close to my university, walkable city, and no low hanging lights I can hit my horns on. On paper, that is.
See, the issue started the day I moved in. The landlord gave me my keys, and I went inside. The interior was nice, however, as I quickly discovered, my new home was already inhabited by a multitude of ghosts, who were, to their credit, just as confused as me.
They're not troublesome spirits, far from it, but i was under the impression that a landlord had to disclose things like this before you sign the lease. (But it is my first time renting, so i may be mistaken) Either way, the landlord isn't returning my phone calls.
According to Martha (oldest ghost in the house, very motherly) none of them were informed the house was even open to new tenants. We're willing to compromise and try to live together, but as of right now, it's.. crowded. I wasn't prepared for roommates and they weren't prepared for me. Do we have any legal options here? I'm not looking to get them kicked out, of course, just wondering if we could get compensation from the landlord.. or at the very least a second bathroom.
- sincerely, one very cramped were-goat
(With the supervision of Martha, Daniel, Priya, Micah, Suki, and Horace, amiable ghost-roomies)
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Hello!
We’re sorry to hear you were taken by surprise in such a way! Let us first assure you that your landlord should indeed have told you that the building you were renting is haunted. Not doing so is a violation of the duty to disclose that every landlord has towards their tenants.
Even if your landlord was not aware of the haunting (which, though unlikely, is possible if they lack all second sight) it is still their responsibility to have their property inspected for such things. Considering you are Sighted yourself and are not opposed to sharing with the ghosts, we are guessing you’re not looking to get out of your lease, but it is certainly grounds to renegotiate your rent.
When it comes to the rights of your ghostly housemates, that is rather more tricky. Our current laws still state that the incorporeal cannot have legal possession of physical property, but there are various provisions in place to protect their well-being. The following people may be able to help you:
The Dial-a-Ghost Agency, experts in (re)housing haunting spirits. In case any of your housemates wish to relocate.
The neighbourhood mediums of our Medium-ation Programme. They usually mediate between people like yourself and the spirits haunting them, but they also have a great deal of knowledge on the ghostly and will be able to communicate with your housemates.
If necessary we can help you find a lawyer specialising in tenancy law, or an Incorporeal Entity Advocate that can look into your housemates' options.
Sincerely,
~ the MagISoWo Team  
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thetreetopinn · 4 months
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Sources for Somerton's Plagiarism from Hbomberguy's Video (as much as I could get)
I went back through Harry's video, focused entirely on the sources James Somerton pulled from in the hopes of creating as much of a comprehensive list as I could--though my Google-Fu is not very strong. I did however find something I thought was forever lost and that made me very happy--specifically the magazine Midlands Zone containing the column by Steven Spinks that Harry poignantly used as an illustration of gay erasure... while Somerton uses it to sound like HE is waxing remorseful about the very subject.
This is not a complete list, I'm sure. For one thing, I was only able to attempt to pull sources that Harry himself mentioned in the video. Surely there's so very much more out there. I expect there to be a great deal more internet archeology to unearth just how much writing and culture Somerton has stolen like he's the British Museum of Natural History but for gay people.
- - - - -
Harry's list of mentioned youtubers:
Alexander Avila - https://www.youtube.com/@alexander_avila Matt Baume - https://www.youtube.com/@MattBaume Khadija Mbowe - https://www.youtube.com/@KhadijaMbowe Lady Emily - https://www.youtube.com/@LadyEmilyPresents Shanspeare - https://www.youtube.com/@Shanspeare RickiHirsch - https://www.youtube.com/@RickiHirsch VerilyBitchie - https://www.youtube.com/@verilybitchie
Harry created a convenient playlist of videos by these and other people he wants to bring to everyone's attention.
Please give them your support.
- - - - -
Midlands Zone Magazine - Column by Steven Spinks
After a great deal of searching, I found an archive of the "Midlands Zone" magazine, where you can read through past issues dating all the way back to February 2014. I have also found the issue from which Somerton took Spinks' poignant discussion of gay erasure: Overall archive Specific Issue - Pages 16-17
It will not allow you to download it, but you can read it exactly as it appeared in print form.
- - - - -
My best effort to find the exact book or article Somerton lifted from to be able to get attention to the original writers
Tinker Bells and Evil Queens By Sean Griffin
The Celluloid Closet By Vito Russo Wikipedia article about the book Wikipedia article about the documentary My weak google-fu could not find where you can access the book or documentary. Check your local municipal or university library for book or documentary, or if you know a good source for one or both, please reblog with it added
Camp and the Gay Sensibility By Jack Babuscio
The Groundbreaking Queerness of Disney's Mulan By Jes Tom Personal site with links to social media accounts
Why Rebel Without a Cause was a milestone for gay rights By Peter Howell
Why "The Craft" is still the best Halloween coming out movie By Andrew Park
Opinion: From facehuggers to phallic tails, is 'Alien' one of the queerest films ever? By Dani Leever
Women and Queerness in Horror: Jennifer's Body By Zoe Fortier
[Pride 2019] We Have Such Sights to Show You: Hellraiser and the Spectrum of Queerness By Alejandra Gonzalez
Revealing the Hellbound Heart of Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser' By Colin Arason
Queering James Cameron's Aliens (1986) By Bart Bishop
Demeter and Persephone in space: transformation, femininity, and myth in the 'Alien' films By David Greven
Fears of a millennial masculinity: Scream's queer killers By David Greven (Scholarly site, unable to access original work, offers a way to request a full copy of the text in PDF)
Queer Subtext in Stephen King's It - Part 1: 'Reddie' Character Analysis By Rachel Brands Rachel is the very unfortunate lady who found out she was being stolen from because she supported Somerton through Patreon and saw one of his videos early with her writing--lacking any form of citation or credit
How 'It: Chapter Two' Leaves Richie Tozier Behind By Joelle Monique
When Horror Becomes Strength: Queer Armor in Stephen King's 'IT' By Alex London
Why Queer People Love Witchcraft By Amanda Kohr
'The Favourite' Queers The Past And The Present By Giorgi Plys-Garzotto
(Wuko) Crush (Mako x Wu) By MoonFlower on YouTube
5 Terrible Movies With Awesome Hidden Meanings By J.F. Sargent
The Radicalization of Sexuality: The Queer Casae of Jeffrey Dahmer By Ian Barnard
Netflix's 'Dahmer' backlash highlights ethical issues in the platform's obsession with true crime By Shivani Dubey
The Possible Disturbing Dissonance Between Hajime Isayama's Beliefs and Attack on Titan's Themes Original Article by "Seldom Musings" (Author has made all posts not related to Attack On Titan private and has retired from the blog)
Everyone Loves Attack on Titan. So Why Does Everyone Hate Attack on Titan? By Gita Jackson
- - - - -
The following people are otherwise named in the video. There are no direct citations of articles or books by them in said video. I am unable to guarantee that I have identified the correct individual.
Darren Elliott-Smith Michaela Barton David Church Claire Sisco King Amanda Howell Jessica Roy
- - - - -
Telos announced and cancelled a film likely based on this book: The Final Girl Support Group - By Grady Hendrix
- - - - -
I refrained from including certain sources.
First off only focusing on Somerton's work.
Secondly not including anything that might be visible enough to not require amplifying their voice (I cannot speak for all of those I have found links to, but journalism is frequently a thankless job).
Thirdly any source that is of a nature that is antithetical to the very existence of the queer community, such as the right-leaning source that didn't make it into Somerton's video, but Harry was able to identify as a source he had considered using.
If you feel I have missed a mentioned source--or you know of a source from material that was not covered in Harry's video--please do not hesitate to reblog with added details.
- - - - -
Please share this information far and wide, and please add to it if you find more material that can be positively identified and linked to the creator/writer.
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the0doreslover · 3 months
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Theodore nott | miscommunication
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pairing: theodore nott x reader
warnings: angst to fluff, readers a bit annoying at first, use of y/n, mattheo riddle and hermione being a dream team, not much tbh, not proofread
summary: you get in your own head about people’s opinions and almost cost your whole relationship, but hermione and mattheo are not about to let that happen
it just wasn’t fair.
Because of the colours he wore he wasn’t allowed to love you?
He’s the one who holds you at night
He’s the one who helps you study
He’s the one who makes you smile
Bullshit, it was all bullshit. You were both happy loving each other in secret until a few weeks ago when he found you in the astronomy tower.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed a gentle kiss to the side of your face. You looked back at him and gave him a small smile.
“What’s wrong?” he asked you
“nothi-”
“don’t give me that, what’s wrong?”
“do you not worry about our future?” you sighed
“not really, why?” he unwrapped his hands from your waist and turned you to face him.
“do you think we even have a future?”
theodore took a step back “i do, do you not?”
“I just think” you looked down “we’re setting ourselves up for failure, Think about it theo, everyone will have an issue with us, which is why we have to love each other in secret. Why are we doing this to ourselves.”
he took a breath in “do you want to tell people about us? i don’t understand”
You felt bad, but you couldn’t explain it to him.
“No- no that would make it worse”
“y/n do you think this is fair” he scoffed
“think what is fair”
“us having to hide because people have their opinions”
“theo-”
“no! this is not how i want this to go, i love you” he waited for you to say it back.
“i love you” he walked closer to you lifting your head up with his hand.
he waited for a few seconds before sighing and turning towards the railing
“theodore” you could tell he was angry
“you had no issue saying it to me last night, or the night before that when you were practically throwing yourself at me-”
“What the fuck is wrong with you” you seethed “i think we need to seriously think about us theo”
“what’s there to think about?”
“well we clearly have an issue if you think this can work just like that” you walked away from him
That was the last time theodore had spoke to you in four weeks.
The valentines ball was tonight and you had no issue missing out, infact that was your plan. No theo, No point, even though you knew it was your fault, that stupid outburst you had on the astronomy tower had been haunting you.
“God why are you not ready? The ball is starting soon” hermione gasped at the sight of you in your blanket.
“i’m not going hermione”
“like hell you aren’t, get up and get ready” she snickered
“no, i’m really not going” you asserted.
She came and sat on the edge of your bed, her hair was pinned up and she was waiting to put her dress on. “What’s wrong? do you not have a date? neither do i, i’ll go with you”
“No hermione it’s not that i promise”
“then what is it?”
you sighed running a hand over your face “What would you do if i told you i loved someone”
“i’d be incredibly happy for you”
“but what if i told you i loved someone that everyone would have an issue with”
she thought for a moment “then i’d say tell theodore you don’t care what others think and you want to be with him.”
registering what she said you felt yourself smiling
“y/n we both know how bad it gets when you get in your own head, next time speak to me, we all know about you and theodore. You’re not slick” she laughed
“thank you mione” you pulled her into a hug
“you can thank me by getting ready, and fixing it with nott”
“how’d you know there’s something wrong”
“come on? sweats, seriously?”
That’s how you found yourself in the middle of the great hall with a glass of fred and george’s famous ‘fruit punch’ in a long dress and uncomfortable heels contemplating whether or not you should just go back to your dorm.
Theodore was in a similar position, he stood with a glass of ‘punch’ leaning against the wall watching his best friends dancing.
“Theodore stop being grumpy and come dance” pansy called out to him.
“i’m good thanks” he grumbled back.
He watched as mattheo walked towards him before leaning on the wall next to him.
“You’re a stupid man theo”
“tell me something i don’t know”
“you should go and dance with her”
“who?”
mattheo laughed silently before pointing his head towards where you stood looking bored and theodore’s breath caught in his throat.
“why- why would i dance with her?”
“you forget that i’m your bestfriend, you’re not slick”
“she doesn’t want to dance with me”
“For gods sake Nott!”
both boys looked to where hermione had magically appeared out of nowhere
“Go and dance with her!”
Theodore was in a bit of shock actually.
“You know what maybe i’ll go and dance with her” mattheo rolled his eyes and began pushing himself off the wall.
Theodore pushed him back and placed his drink in his chest. “No way that’s my girl”
Hermione and mattheo watched as he strolled over to you.
“We make a good team granger” mattheo smirked
“back off riddle”
“dance with me?”
“… yeah sure”
you sighed for what felt like the 100th time that night, you had sat yourself on a random table next to a few sobbing girls when you noticed theodore walking towards you.
Quickly you stood up before he got to you so you were face to face.
“Hi-” you both said at the same time making you both laugh slightly
“I’m sorry!” you quickly rushed out before he begun talking
“no, i’m sorry”
“what are you sorry for theo? i started it, i got in my own head can we forget about it?”
“You dressed up looking all gorgeous, i’ve already forgotten about it” he grinned extending his hand towards you “will you dance with me”
Grabbing his hand you pulled him towards you and smashed your lips onto his, wrapping your hands around his neck you felt instant relief when he reciprocated your actions and begun kissing you back.
When you finally broke the kiss, there was a shared understanding in your eyes, and with the taste of reconciliation lingering in the air, you and Theodore shared a knowing smile. The tension that had built up over the past weeks seemed to dissipate completely.
"Shall we actually go and dance now?" Theodore suggested, his hand still intertwined with yours.
A sense of relief washed over you, and you nodded,
He guided you toward the dance floor, and as you began to sway together, the world around you blurred, and all that mattered in that moment was you two, not anyone else who had an opinion, they could fuck right off.
“by the way, everyone knows. We’re not slick baby”
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taintedbenevolence · 5 months
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YAN! WRIOTHESLEY X FEM! READER
m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t !
" 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒. "
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— 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 
do not interact/read if the following triggers you! MENTIONS OF / IMPLIED STALKING, IMPLIED MURDER, MENTIONS OF BLOOD, USE OF APHRODISIACS, ODAXELAGNIA, NON-CONSENSUAL DISPLAY OF AFFECTION, IMPLIED MASTURBATION, UNPROTECTED SEX, BREEDING KINK, ORAL SEX [RECEIVING], AND FINGERING IMPLIED / DESCRIBED.
OVERPROTECTIVE AND TOXIC / OBSESSIVE / POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR.
        •,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,• You should've known better than to blindly follow an order to enter Wriothesley's office that day.
Your morning had started off rather normal, with the exception of Sigewinne visiting you to leave you a letter written by none other than the Duke. At first, you thought it was just a notice for you, one related to business matters, or one about ordeals within the Fortress.
The letter resulted to be nothing at all what you expected it to be.
It was merely a note. "Please pass by my quarters when you have time today. Preferably during evening hours. I'd like to have a chat with you." That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Simple, direct, and straight to the point. Just like the man himself.
The little Melusine who handed you the letter wore a bright yet small smile on her face as she stood up straight. "It seems you've caught the eye of His Grace," she says, almost teasingly, though you shook your head. "I wouldn't go as far as to say I've caught the attention of someone like him," you reply with a wry smile, though a part of you silently wishes it were otherwise.
But you had caught his eye, and from far early on too. The Lord of the Fortress of Meropide rarely traveled to the surface. It wasn't every once in a million years, naturally, but, it wasn't a common sight. Most cases, he was there strictly on business and other important matters rather than on vacation.
That, however, changed the moment he saw you. You were breathtaking, and better yet, you were not intimidated by his presence alone. Most people would keep their distance, look away, unable to meet his gaze, and lack the ability to keep their composure around him. But you?
You were perfectly fine being near him, wearing small smiles that gave him absolute butterflies, as much as he hated to admit. You were honest and though maybe partly reserved, still willing to share a proper chat when he approached you. He liked that. Sigewinne noticed.
And he wasn't sure whether he liked the little Melusine nosing around whenever he met you, because for all he knew, she could start getting ideas, and that... wouldn't have been ideal, put it lightly.
Nevertheless, it's easy to say that his visits to the surface became more frequent. He made your acquaintance and quickly enough became friends with you. It was smooth riding so far, and he was finding that the situation was going well for him.
Occasionally, the two of you would talk over a cup of tea and you'd chat about how things had been in your lives, whether maybe you'd lost a pendant you liked, or how there was a coffee you tried somewhere that was rather bitter, or how he had less work than usual, so he decided to spare some time to relax on the surface.
It was fine.
That is until he found out you had fallen in love the past days. But oh no, you were not in love with him. You were in love with someone else. That was the issue. So he began to inquire. How did this person act? How did you meet them? Do you think they'd make a great partner?
Simple questions just to see what was your view of them. 
Don't get him wrong — he's glad that you've found someone you love. He's just upset that the person you've fallen for isn't him. So he then decides to find the person for whom you fell for. It doesn't take long for him to find them, and it's not much effort to convince them that he's only visiting on behalf of business matters.
He returns every so often back to the surface to  meet with you and to keep eyes on your interest, making sure there are no "unwanted" advances between the two of you, and when he's at the Fortress, he simply has to hope that nothing occurs. Having someone work for this type of thing would be rather inefficient and would raise unnecessary suspicions.
Sure, people don't really need to understand what the Duke's motives are, but that doesn't refrain them from filing a report to the Chief Justice about unusual behavior. The two are acquainted, after all, and Neuvillette is more than adept at reading the behavior of humans.
So with that in mind, he decided it was best to do things himself. After all, if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself. One day, whilst you conversed with Wriothesley, you spoke of how you planned to finally confess. He was immediately interested, and he, of course, listened, even if deep in his mind the person whom you treasured was a pool of blood.
If your confession proved to be successful, he'd have to find a way to slowly seed problems into the relationship. He isn't fond of what he'd have to do, but unfortunately enough, the small feeling of jealousy that has wrapped itself around his heart is eating away at him. 
He'd find the little details that bring you and your significant other apart and slowly begin to rip those traits up to the surface. He'd at times advise you that there were things you should watch out for, given this would be your first time in a relationship (or he'd assume so), and most likely, he'll find a way to tear down the relationship bit by bit and make it seem like it wasn't even his fault. It will appear as if it was just that you were mistaken, that this relationship wouldn't really work out.
That being said, if your confession resulted in a rejection, he'd comfort you. He knows how much it'd hurt having your feelings being rejected like that, and he especially doesn't want you crying for someone else who isn't deserving of causing your sorrow. He wouldn't want you tearing up to the one who had the audacity of even making you cry. He'd probably be mad at the person, but not enough to walk back at them and talk to them about it, as much as he'd wish to rip them into two. He exercises self-control, and somehow manages to control himself.
Depending how the person reacted to your confession, would Wriothesley's anger be gauged. Unfortunately enough for you, and much to Wriothesley's pleasure, you were rejected. Now, don't get him wrong; he wants you to have a successful relationship, but he also doesn't want you being with someone that doesn't deserve you.
So the moment that you come to him, your expression more solemn and down than usual, he already knows what's happened. He invites you over to the Fortress inside to cheer you up and for a change in atmosphere. While taking you to a place meant for imprisonment isn't exactly one's definition of "fun," you were rather curious to see what was the place this man called home.
To your surprise, it was well kept, and didn't look like it was rotting as you thought it would be. He also showed you around his quarters, to let you know where he'd be, and of course he introduced you to Sigewinne, who was more than happy to meet you.
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[| "Y/N, this is Sigewinne, our head nurse." [| "Oh, is this the person you've been rambling on about lately, Your Grace?" [| "... Sigewinne."
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You could've sworn that you saw a small smirk on the Melusine's face because she knew that His Grace was head over heels for you. Of course, you didn't know that, but... she did. You were later on dismissed, and for the next weeks, you stayed at the Fortress, given you met several new people in there and wished to get to know them better.
Wriothesley being the busy man he is, doesn't always have time to get out of his quarters, but god, with you around he can't help but give a few more rounds to the Fortress just to watch you as you go about your day. How he remembers your smiles, when you mentioned to some your hobbies, your interests, and so on so forth...
His gaze often falls on your small frame and his mind will wander to how perfectly it will fit against his larger figure when he's deep inside of you and—
Wriothesley thinks this is wrong. He thinks this is twisted in more ways than one, but he can't bring himself to stop it. He's helpless to the thought of you running your hands through the soft tufts of his hair whilst he holds you to himself, the way your lips would feel when matches them with his own, or how beautiful you'd sound when he inserts his digits into you as you struggle to not moan out his name.
He hates that he can't feel you. It's driving him mad.
Sometimes he's filling in and signing the mountain of paperwork he has on his desk and his mind trails off to you, and archons it's not even a minute before he has to stand up and drink some tea to clear his head. On some occasions, he'll feel so utterly pent up that there's nothing left for him to do than to lock his doors and let his hand soothe his frustrations and urges while he wishes his hand were your own or your mouth instead.
His mind is clouded with thoughts he wouldn't speak of in front of the rest and a part of him feels guilty about feeling in such a way towards you, yet he knows he wouldn't have it any other way. He's completely enthralled by you and obsessed by the thought of being able to claim you as his own.
It grows to the point that every day he sees you becomes unbearable. He can't stand how your sweet voice falls on those who don't deserve to hear it, how you smile at the prisoners whenever you get to speak with them and help them out during their shifts, how your hands sometimes barely brush together when you walk amidst crowds and he swears that a single touch of yours is enough to make him want to pick you up right then and there and fuck you raw away from prying eyes.
He is desperate. And he needs you.
So he decides that today is that day. After a few days of spending time with Sigewinne in order to mix in certain herbs with tea, he ends up with a particularly sweet tea. He reserves it for you. He's pacing in his office before he sits down in a relaxed manner, waiting for you to enter.
And the moment he hears the gentle knocking on his door accompanied by your voice asking for permission to enter, he can already feel his heart hammering. Allowing you to enter, you close the doors behind you, and for a man who's obsessed in every sense of the word, he's certainly composed.
He gestures for you to take a seat, to which you comply, and then he goes off to get the tea. After all, what better way to host a small meeting like this than to talk over a cup of tea? You're able to take in its sweet aroma and taste, and to say you liked it may have been an understatement.
"So how have you been finding the Fortress?" he muses, one leg crossed comfortably over the other. You only smile softly as you respond, taking a quick sip of your tea before answering. "Certainly different than what I expected it to be, but it seems to be managed well."
His Grace only smiles in return, and he then clicks tongue. "Say, have you enjoyed your stay here?" he asks, taking a sip as he waits. "It's been great. While some have a sharp tongue, there are a couple of people who have been good company, even if most of the time I'm around Sigewinne," you answer.
"Speaking of, where has she been?" you state, because now that you thought about it, you hadn't seen the little Melusine around the Fortress recently. Wriothesley just blinks as he then slightly mouths an 'oh.' "She's been off gathering herbs for medicine and treatment," he replies, before finishing the rest of the tea in his cup.
You hum in understanding as you stay still, having finished your own cup as well. "I see. Anyways, thank you for the tea," you reply in gratitude. The Duke only nods, as he remains there, seemingly observing you for any changes.
The two of you keep conversing, but throughout the conversation, you start to take note of something. You feel a little... moist. Perhaps you were exerting yourself too much recently?.. No, that couldn't be it — you felt as if you were getting warm all of a sudden. You couldn't exactly place your finger on what the sensation was.
Additionally, you couldn't exactly shake off the feeling no matter how hard you tried to focus on the man in front of you, and as time passed, you began to lose focus on the conversation you held with Wriothesley and your attention shifted to yourself, your gaze falling in between your thighs, the space feeling rather wet, for a lack of better words, the only thing in your mind being how unusually much you wished to be—
"Y/N?"
Wriothesley's voice snapped you back to the present as you felt blood rush to your face. No, that wasn't right, why were you feeling like this...? This was wrong... The man in front of you could only pretend for so long that he didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't in a far too different situation. The seemingly faint bulge in his pants grew ever slightly, and he was already starting to feel a little trapped and tight in his coat. He knew that you were starting to receive the effects already, so it was only a matter of time.
"Are you feeling well?" He murmurs, placing a hand on your shoulder before giving it a light squeeze, and you can swear that for a split moment you almost shiver. "... I.. it's.. sorry," you manage to murmur as you sigh quietly as you shook your head. "Is it just me, or.. is it getting rather hot in here..?"
Oh, how he wants to laugh.
You almost feel stupid having asked something of the like, and Wriothesley's barely holding himself together as he breathes quietly and calmly. He's on the verge of taking you right here and then, but he decides against it just to see what you'll do. "I feel it too," he replies relaxed, and your eyes seem to slightly light up. "Oh, so it's not just me..? That's at least a bit reassuring..."
He's so fucking desperate. Can't you tell?
And then he asks the magical question. "Why do you think I asked you to come in here?"
You blink, thinking through the question, before answering, a bit perplexed. "Because you wanted to talk...?" you reply. The man chuckles softly, though he shakes his head. "More than that, there was... something else." Confusion begins to run through your mind as you try to inquire as to what he means but before you can say another word, he picks you up, and carries you away as if you were nothing but a feather.
He locks the door to his office, and he walks up the stairs with you in his arms. "Wriothesley, what're you doing?—" you can barely say, your face pressed up against his clothed chest, but he silences you as he lays you flat on his desk.
His firm hands are quick to undo your clothing in your lower body, as he he carefully but easily slides off your undergarments. You can only feel the heat rush through you as your heart pounds. "Wriothesley, what are you—"
And your voice leaves you as you feel him spread apart your legs with his cold fingers, a bitter chill running through your spine as his tongue only starts to tease you by dampening furthermore your already wet folds. You can only bite your tongue to hold in a moan, though it proves futile when he begins to work on your clit, teasing and tracing faint circles with his tongue, causing a few whines to escape your mouth.
You can't tell whether to feel pleasured or scared. Wriothesley gives you no time to think.
He makes no effort to stop whilst you can only grasp and tug his hair, while you nervously and shakily run your hands down his smooth, black locks that glisten beneath the amber lights of his office. It doesn't take much longer for him to reach your entrance, and you clasp your mouth with your hand as you inevitably moan involuntarily. You feel your eyes practically roll back as you try to maintain your gaze focused on the raven-haired male, feeling the wet muscle continuously slipping in and out of your tightened entrance and you're certainly grateful the walls of his office are soundproof.
"Wriothesley, I can't— f-fuck!"
You can't help but squirm, your heart racing as your chest heaves up and down. Your vision is somewhat hazed, your attempts to shift comfortably failing as a new wave of pleasure surges through you as your entrance and clit are endlessly teased and caressed, a pressure building up inside you.
He's eating you out, and you're not even exactly sure if your mind would agree that you enjoy it, but your body sure as hell is, because your senses are getting stimulated beyond possibility. Your breathing is definitely evident and no longer quiet, and you can barely muffle how vocal you're growing until at a moment, you feel him retract at last.
Yet before you're able to question it, he repositions himself above you, and he's pinning your wrists above your head, his knees at either side of you as his imposing figure looms over your body, casting a slight shadow on you. "You sure are — hah — quite loud," he whispers with a teasing smirk edging on his face, his tone of voice growing a bit rasped as he reaches for an item that dangles on his hips — one you're quite familiar with.
Handcuffs.
And before you know it he's clipped them onto you and bound your wrists to his desk above your head, not allowing you to move them, their silver hue glister, glimmering in the dark shadows. "You're fucking mine," he snarls before he kisses you on the lips with fervor, almost as if he might just devour you on the spot if you don't do anything about it.
He's rough and passionate, not giving you a chance to breathe. The sudden ferocity and intensity in his act is more than enough to leave you breathless whilst you try to get used to it, to which he responds with a low growl. It's as if he's been starved for ages and his hunger is to never be sated. He bites down softly on your lower lip, effectively causing you to part your lips, giving him a chance to slide his tongue within.
The rush it gave you was almost feverish, even if it was wrong at its core. He tastes sweet, you think, as your tongues mingle together, the sweetness flooding your palates. Your train of thought was interrupted once more when he finally separated, and you breathed heavily. He was catching his breath, his mouth slightly hung open, giving you a view of the sharp canines he possesses. A small, barely noticeable trail of saliva connected your lips to his own, and he stared down at you, licking his lips to rid the saliva before his gaze landed on your neck. His hands, even with wraps and binds, were cold to the touch as he caressed your soft skin.
You're still catching your breath, blood rushing to your face when you feel him bite into your flesh, a quiet cry akin to a whine leaving you, only fueling his desire. He quietly growls, and he almost seems feral as he licks over the wound, moving quickly to other uncovered areas in your neck as he litters kisses around it. He bites hard and deep, sucking on the skin just enough to leave a couple of hickeys on you.
"You're all mine."
No words are required to be exchanged as he pauses, just leaning back. Seeing your taken-aback expression, he just chuckles softly, his icy gaze combined with the ever earnest smirk he wears already enough to keep you still beneath his iron grip. "I could just eat you up and you'd beg for more, wouldn't you, huh?" He states, his voice sounding like music to your ears.
"Bet you'd want me to fuck you dumb too."
He tugs on his tie, letting it fall loose untied with ease as his coat soon follows, allowing you to gain an exposed view of his scarred body. There's nothing more you'd like than to run your hands through his chest but the handcuffs don't allow you to move your arms in the slightest. He's depriving you of one pleasure, and he relishes in that.
"My eyes are up here, sweetheart."
And god does he love it when you try to avert your gaze in embarrassment, knowing that your eyes had solely been focused on his body. He takes his hand and tilts your chin so you're forced to meet his gaze, and he delights in the way you shudder at his mere touch — he has you at the mercy of his fingertips, he'd bet.
You're being driven mad, something he enjoys — he's no sadist, but he definitely likes seeing you having to put up with the building pressure and urges he held back on this entire time. He decides to toy furthermore with you, as he slowly begins to unclasp the belt around his waist as his pants come off loose.
You know what the man wants.
It doesn't take much time for the rest to come off, and it's very clear to you where this is going. The back of your mind is screaming at you to run, to move, anything, but your body just lies and stays still without making a sound. His hips are pressed into yours, and he has zero hesitation as he begins to slide himself inside you, positioning himself as you whimper, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes as you feel your walls stretching to accommodate to the sudden, large length that was pushed inside of you. It's too much for you, but he hushes you, caressing your face softly and wiping your tears.
"You're going to take all of it in for me, aren't you? Hah, so fuckin' tight..."
It hurts, and his gentle caresses are a sharp contrast to how he continuously pushes inside you until he finally reaches that place that would make you scream out in pleasure. And he knows it. He's impatient, and won't waste another second, and in just a few more seconds, he's already ramming his hips against yours, bulging cock sliding in and out at a pace you can no longer register.
"God — you're so good for me — no one else is allowed to see you like this, understood?"
The both of you are lost in lust, and your heart hammers in you whilst fear and pleasure courses right through your veins. You get the feeling he's not just pleasuring you — he's marking you, through and through, making sure that by the time you're walking out, people will only perceive his scent on you wherever you go. He wants you and you alone. 
Anyone who wishes to debate his posture is more than welcome to have a word with him in the ring.
You're barely able to choke out his name as he fucks you senseless, giving you no space to plead or speak at all, for that matter. The only noise you get out are your helpless moans as you shudder from each thrust. He's feral, hungry and starved for your love, and he wants to consume every bit of it.
"Wriothesley — fuck — I-"
If it weren't for the fact he's fucking you to oblivion on his desk, he'd probably find it amusing how helpless you've become in the span of a few minutes. He loves it. Your eyes are half-lidded and brimming with tears, your moans resounding through the entirety of his office, to which thankfully, there is no one else within except the two of you. You might've not registered it but you're sure he's already torn through all the clothes covering your chest too, leaving you now entirely exposed and vulnerable to his touch.
You start to feel the building pressure you had before, and your breathing is labored, heavy. You don't think you can take this for much longer, your folds wet and walls tightening around his cock. You really weren't sure how in hell you were going to fit all of it in, but you seemed to be taking it rather well.
Your synchronized moans and his groans paired together combine, slowing into a perfectioned, rhythmic catharsis as you finally reach your climax, your fluids coating him and staining the firm material beneath you, to which you can't help but wonder how exactly does he plan to clean.
Yet as you finally release, he still doesn't stop. He's not stopping, not yet, not when he's finally got you fucked over and whimpering, helplessly begging him to cum inside of you. All of your senses and inhibitions have been tossed aside, leaving you a forlorn, flustered mess. He craves you, he might just devour you, he's unable to contain himself.
"You look so adorable when you beg, yeah? So wet and tight for me, 'M just gonna have to keep going for you..."
He is relentless. By the time he cums, you're already left breathless, voice broken and unable to say a thing other than a quiet whine. He's breathing heavily, letting his seed settle within you as his residual flows leak through your thighs, painting you as his own.
"Hah... that look in your eyes.. you wanna be rewarded, don't you? 'M just gonna have to stuff you full, hm?"
He nuzzles his head in your neck, letting the soft tufts of his hair caress your skin softly. He's still inside you, his cum still leaking through your thighs and out of your worn-out, throbbing pussy. Slowly, he slides out of you, earning a faint, muffled hum akin to that of a moan as you catch your breath. "Wrio..." you mumble out, and he presses a light kiss to your neck, right on a mark he left by earlier.
"'M gonna fill you up and make you cum 'till you can't think..." he murmured, one of his hands soothingly caressing your neck as he runs his hand through your back, his other, free hand reaching down towards your wet folds, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on your clit as he teases you gently, causing a few moans and whimpers to escape you. "'M gonna breed you.. make you all mine, darlin'."
He inserts two of his digits inside you fervently, fingering you, keeping you wet and tight as you squirm from his touch. He pulls in and out, unending and denying your pleads to stop. "P-please, Wrio — fuck — I can't-" He ignores your cries. Instead, he presses kisses across your jawline until meeting your lips, keeping you encased, trapped in a passionate kiss whilst being pleasured to no end.
"You can take it. Easy there, love."
You only respond with a whine as you feel yourself slowly reach your climax again, fluids seeping through your body and covering his digits, that slowly pull out with a wet sound. Your mouth is slightly hung open, your face with faint tints of red hidden by your disheveled hair, your body numb and almost limp.
The black-haired man simply held you tight, holding you close, never letting go, his voice whispering to you sweet nothings. His grip was tight, and unbeknownst to you, tears slowly smeared, falling across your face. You felt filthy. You felt violated. Anything but loved. And you knew more than ever, that from this day forth, you'd only ever be his.
His to love. His to hold.
For a night and forevermore, you were solely his to behold.
•,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,••,¸,.·' '·.,¸,•
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A/N - I am utterly in love with this man. This prompt was also meant for yesterday bc Halloween n all, but I didn't make it- so- here you are- a little belated but still here! Same applies to the Imbibitor Lunae prompt that is soon to come! Love you all, remember to stay safe.
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charlie-lec-stories · 3 months
Text
Good enough // CL16 & MV1
Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen
Summary: Max is not always the confident man he looks like.
Warnings: Self-esteem issues, some dark thoughts, talks about eating disorders.
Author’s Note: Men can also suffer from low self-esteem and body insecurities. Rate: +16 (inappropriate language)
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She always slept in the middle and Max was okay with that, because even though he loved to cuddle Charles, he was a living heater, like Max. Y/N was like an ice cube and it was great to have her in the middle, cooling them down. Watching her peaceful face in the morning was also a plus. That was the sight he found that morning, her laying face up, her lips slightly parted, Charles half on top of her, his nose buried on the crook of her neck and his left arm over her protectively, his fingers brushing Max's middle. The Monegasque was snoring softly, the noise muffled by Y/N's collarbones. As always, Charles was shirtless, it was impossible for him to rest well with clothes and it wasn't like the Dutchman or their girl would complain about it. On the contrary, she started progressively to sleep with less clothes on. Max wasn't sure when it happened but she went from loving to trying different PJ's and seeing which one was more comfortable to sleeping in just a tank top and a pair of cotton panties. Again, there were no complaints about that. Max could never complain about seeing them with little to no clothing, they were literally the most beautiful people he had ever met.
He knew that she was perfect since the first time he laid eyes on her, while they were teenagers. He felt his breath itch just looking at her face, and when they became closer and she started hugging him more, he became addicted to the touch of her skin, soft and plush under his fingers. He could remember the first time he saw her in underwear like a core memory, they were still friends and he had never felt so guilty for anything as he felt for his thoughts that night. She spent the night at his house, they both had a race the next day and her parents couldn't take her, so he offered her to stay at his house and go with him the next day. His father was less than pleased with his idea, but agreed anyway. She changed in front of him like it was the most normal thing in the world, he was her best friend and she felt safe with him, the tug of guilt he felt in his heart for looking at her like she was a whole meal still haunted him. But he thought she was breath-taking, every inch of her body was just too perfect to be real. He was seventeen at the time, so his mind went to places that he wasn't proud of, but even if he wasn't sexualizing her all the time now that they were older, he still could say that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
Then there was Charles, who Max knew for a fact was the most wanted man in motorsport. People just worshiped his body like it was a whole temple and Max couldn't agree more with those people. He would definitely join a cult about Charles' body. From his cute, messy hair to his toned legs, Charles was a living Greek God and Max thanked Zeus every day for making his boyfriend figuratively allergic to wearing shirts. Summer Charles was his favorite, all hot and bothered, walking around sporting his smallest shorts and needing someone to apply sunscreen on his back three times a day. Max would always volunteer for that. But Spring Charles was also great, always wearing half buttoned shirts, chest showing teasingly. Max's second favorite was Autumn Charles, who liked to work out in compression shirts, leaving him and Y/N looking at his body the whole time they should be training. Winter Charles was less of a show off, but that doesn't mean he didn't serve... There were few sights as beautiful as the Monegasque in winter attire, with his nose reddened and smile on full display. Max could spend hours just looking at Charles sitting in front of the fire, warming up while chatting with Y/N about all of his favorite things.
He watched them both sleep for a few minutes, following the ups and downs of their chests, the covers up to Charles' hips, giving away just a peek of the navy blue panties Y/N wore that time to sleep. He felt lucky, but he also felt terrible about himself. As he got up from the bed, he sighed softly, doing the best he could to suppress the negative thoughts that tried to settle down on his mind. Walking down the hallway and towards the kitchen, he couldn't stop his body and it positioned itself in front of the mirror at the entrance of the living room. He looked at his reflection with a shy gaze, the dark shirt made him look slimmer, or at least he told himself that. The deep breath he took was shaky and when his hands moved to his hips, the hem of it tensed, highlighting a little roll on his lower belly. He looked away disgusted, his hands falling back down by his sides and walked quickly to the kitchen to start breakfast. He focused on his Stroopwafels, he wanted them to be ready before Charles woke up, or else he would complain about eating in the morning and skip breakfast. His boyfriend was a disaster when it came to food, he didn't like many dishes, and the Stroopwafels were one of the few things Charles liked to eat in the morning.
Max thought about skipping breakfast and instead going for a run, burning that roll he saw in the mirror, but he knew that it was not healthy behavior. He didn't like the way he looked, he did feel ugly, but he was aware of the limits between feeling bad about himself and doing risky things to achieve the body he wanted. Still, once in a while, his low self-esteem would entertain the idea of skipping a meal or extending a training session. He didn't resent his partners for being physically perfect, but he did feel like he wasn't good enough for their perfection. He would sometimes look at them, so incredibly good-looking together, and think that he didn't look as good as he should, like he was out of place with their beauty. The fact that they loved him was important to him, he understood that they loved him for his personality and not for his looks, and he wasn't a superficial man, constantly thinking about his or other people's looks, still, he sometimes wondered what they saw in him. When he was making out with them and they felt so into it, he would ask himself once in a while how it was possible that someone like him could turn them on. It was some kind of miracle that a woman who could have any man in the world, who already had Charles fucking Leclerc would want to have sex with him, or al least that's how he felt like.
"Morning, Amor". (Love). He heard Y/N voice as her arms wrapped around him, her cheek pressed against his back. He felt her kissing his shoulder and then playfully bite him. He laughed.
"Morning, Schat. How did you sleep?". He took the last Stroopwafel out of the pan and then turned around to face her.
"Bien, but woke up around 3 am wanting to peet and went back to sleep right away because you both were squeezing me so bad that I couldn't even go to the bathroom". (Good). She pouted and then giggled, making him smirk, loved her giggles. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him, her hands moving to his hair to pull at it a little, he moaned but gathered his composure back quickly.
"No funny business, no time for that". He said against her lips and she huffed. It was a Wednesday and they were all traveling to the USA for the triple-header.
"It won't take too long, I promise". She dragged her hands down his torso, he loved every second of that, until she reached the hem of his shirt and her fingers touched the skin of his lower belly. He grew self conscious fast and then pushed her hands away. She looked at him worried, not for him not wanting to have sex but for him to refuse her touch as if it was burning him. He had those reactions once in a while and it always made her wonder what was wrong, but he never seemed open to talk about it.
"I just don't want us to be late, Schat". He quickly lied and she let it slide. He kissed her again, just to let her know that they were good. They heard Charles' footsteps and the conversation died there.
In Austin, they were gratefully surprised with the fact that they were staying all in the same hotel, which meant that they could share a room all five nights. Charles and Y/N didn't even bother on settling down in their rooms, knowing that they weren't spending a second there, instead, they took their suitcases to Max's room and then plopped down on the bed. Max was still acting weird, he barely let them cuddle him on the plane, didn't ramble about anything and then just went straight to the shower, taking his sweet time there. Charles, even though he had been close to Max for less time, also picked up on his strange behavior. They knew that Max was allowed to have bad days and be moody, but these episodes were different from being moody. He looked sad, like the spark he usually had suddenly lacked power. The two talked about it, wondering what could have happened and how to bring up the subject to Max without scaring him off. The last thing they wanted was to make him feel uncomfortable or pressured to open up about something he wasn't ready. Once he walked out of the bathroom, completely dressed to bed, they made themselves comfortable and drifted off.
"You look stunning today, Y/N". Max heard one of the reporters say while they were all on the media pan. Max suppressed an eye-roll, she always looked great and someone always had to point it out. He was a little jealous, but the fact that he had felt particularly bad about himself the last few days didn't help.
"Thank you". She said with a tight grin, she wasn't a fan of physical compliments, she would rather people calling her a good driver instead. The reporter proceeded with his question about her good Qualifying that afternoon and she then gave him a complete answer with her feedback about the track and the car. He watched her talk, the way her hands moved as she explained something, her lips that did the best they could as she struggled with her pronunciation and how her nose scrunched when she talked about the least things she liked about the track.
"Max". He turned around to look at Charles, the Monegasque discreetly leading him to an empty room when the media pan was over. "Are you alright, babe?".
"Yeah, sure". He tried to play it cool, but the concerned look on Charles' eyes was making it really hard.
"Are you sure? Because you haven't looked fine for a few days now". Max knew what he meant, he knew that Charles was talking about his mood, but Max couldn't help but associate Charles' words to his body."I know I don't look fine, I'll do better". He walked out of the room, leaving Charles even more confused than before.
Austin went terribly for Charles and Y/N, both of them ending up disqualified after the race, the Ferrari driver losing a P6 and the Mercedes a podium. Max had won and still he didn't feel any better, so the mood back in the room wasn't the best. "Couples that get disqualified together, stay together" was the caption that their PR managers decided to use when they posted their joint post about the FIA's decision. Max looked at the picture over and over again, even sad they looked nice. Or maybe it was him that loved them so much that was unable to see a single defect in them. He didn't care, they were perfect in his eyes, and he wasn't good enough, no matter how much he could win. The next stop was Mexico and Max was already in a bad mood to also having to deal with Checo's fans. He got the chance to share his podium with Charles and Y/N there and that made everything a little bit better, but watching their pictures online, the three of them together was painful. And to top it, between Mexico and Brazil, Y/N trended on Twitter when a particularly good picture of her after the race "broke the internet". She was being called the most beautiful woman of motorsport, and it was all too much for Max.
Charles walked inside the room with his spare key, they were both at the same hotel in Brazil and Y/N staying just a block away, to find Max on the bed. His knees were all the way up to his chest and Charles could see that he was crying, thanks to the shaky movement of his back. With soft steps, he walked to the bed and sat down next to Max, placing his hand atop his shoulder and squeezing. The sob that the Dutchman let out broke Charles' heart in a million pieces. He quickly pulled out his phone and sent a short text to his girlfriend, requesting her presence, then he got into bed with Max, pulling him to his chest and letting him cry as much as he needed. Y/N arrived 20 minutes later, having to work her way through some PR duties before she could be free. Max was a lot more calm when she made it there, her two boyfriends resting on the bed, while Charles moved his hands up and down Max's back. The Ferrari driver looked up when he heard her walk in and they shared a look before she sat down at the other side of Max and ran her fingers through his blonde locks. She saw him let out a sigh and then a few more tears fell down his cheeks.
"Amor, what is it?". She spoke as gently as she could, not wanting to startle him. "Please, we want to help, Max".
"You can't. I'm the problem, not you". His voice was hoarse, the crying taking a toll on his throat.
"You're not a problem, Max. What are you saying?". Charles was almost offended at Max's comment, how could he call himself a problem when he was so darn amazing?
"Okay, we're not avoiding this anymore". She changed her tone from sweet to serious. "Both of you, sit up". They followed the order, Max resting his back against the headboard of the bed. "What's up with you?"
"Don't play dumb". Charles warned him after he saw Max was ready to straight up lie to them again. They waited patiently, and Max just looked around the room, feeling self-conscious. Their gazes were too intense and he couldn't take them.
"I've been feeling bad about myself". He whispered it, hoping that they wouldn't ask for him to repeat himself. They didn't.
"About your body?". Y/N placed a hand on his thigh as she asked the question, Max just nodded.
"But why? There's nothing wrong about you, Max". Charles made the comment so nonchalantly that Max almost laughed.
"Everything is wrong with my body!". He laughed bittersweetly as he said that, like he was amused by the fact that they didn't understand.
"Max, you're going to have to elaborate on that, because we can't see anything wrong with you". He could see that she was concerned, it wasn't just the tone of her voice, but also how hard she was pressing her hand against his tight.
"I'm ugly, so ugly. I don't even understand how you don't see it!". Charles was straight up horrified by the comment, Y/N kept a neutral face, she wanted to see where this was leading so she could fix it. "I'm fat and my face is not pretty or anything like that. Clothes don't fit me right and I look terrible in pictures".
"This stupid, you're saying stupid things". Charles couldn't believe what he was hearing and the string of French curses he let out after his comment just proved further that he was not agreeing with Max's perspective of himself. Y/N was more concerned about Max fat-shaming himself, as if gaining weight was something bad or even him getting fatter was true, considering he was a pretty fit guy. They had a long journey of self-love ahead.
"Charlie, you're not helping". She tried to calm him down, but Charles was angry.
"He's saying stupid stuff! How can he say that?!". Max stayed quiet. "Anyone would kill to be you, you're fucking perfect!".
"What?". That took Max by surprise. He had called them perfect for so much time that he felt the term foreign when it was directed towards himself.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Max". He turned to look at Y/N, she moved her hand from his leg to his face, running her thumb over his cheekbone. "We think you're amazing, perfect".
"But why? You're both so good-looking!". He couldn't believe it. "How could you think that of me looking like you guys do?"
"This is stupid". Y/N rolled her eyes.
"Looks like "stupid" is the word of the day". That made Max laugh softly, she smiled and shifted her position on the bed to sit on his lap. "I love your smile, I love it even more when it reaches your eyes because they look even better".
"You make it sound like he's doing it himself, it's easy for his eyes to look great when he has those eyes''. Charles was being actually useful with his angry comebacks.
"I also said that I love his smile".
"He has the whitest, most perfect teeth on Earth, you could turn off the lights and still find him if he smiles". Max smiled at that, looking at the frowning Charles that huffed and kept cursing in French. Y/N grabbed Max's face and made him look at her.
"We love you, Max. Not just the fact that you're an incredible person or a generational talent driving cars. I love looking at you and I love having sex with you". He blushed, she giggled. "I'm not sure where this idea of you being ugly came from, but I can assure you that you're extremely handsome and hot to me".
"Of course he is! Mon Dieu, thinking he's ugly... Simply stupid". (My God).
"He agrees". Max properly laughed this time. She kissed him, pressing herself against him to make him feel her heartbeat. They broke apart after a moment, both needing to breathe. "I know that getting those thoughts out of your head is not easy, but please, if you ever, ever think about yourself like that again, tell us. I promise you, we will prove you wrong".
"Really?".
"Yes, really. We love you, even when you talk stupid".
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Hope you guys like it!! Happy New Year everyone, and have a great 2024.
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bunji-enthusiast · 1 month
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Hi, I was wondering if you can do a smiling critters x caretaker!reader. I got this scenario in my head of the reader going missing for the few hours with one of the smiling critters (whichever one you decide) and the others get worried and go looking for them for hours until they find the reader asleep, using one of the smiling critters as a giant stuffed animal as they chill there doing whatever they normally do when their on break.
Sorry if it’s too many characters to write and you can limit yourself to a few if you need to. Just thought it was funny.
Missing!
Note || ah yes, the ol hit n’ run of cuteness.
WC || 596
Sypnosis || They thought it was strange to see you disappear, until upon discovery this was normal for you.
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It was odd, recurring times of the day you would disappear out of nowhere. Alongside Bobby too, it had the other smiling critters wondering much about it. Though Bubba had suggested it wouldn’t be much trouble as you and Bobby were most likely fine and safe, having always been out of sight and out of mind as it would always be on breaks.
Strange enough, you never really seem to tell anyone where you are however. Straight up just vanishing without a momentary thought, it even left Crafty thinking about it. She thought it would be better if you at least tell other people where you are, so just in case something bad may have happened. 
Picky thought it was funny almost, seeing as how you had always asked for something to eat (knowing full well she can pull out all the stops when it comes to food), then just disappearing without letting anyone know your location. She can appreciate the fact you just do your job and probably just wants to rest. Though going into thin air all of the sudden with her friend Bobby had drawn cause for concern from Picky too like the rest of the smiling critters.
CatNap was not all that worried about you, knowing that you can take care of yourself when needed. He was rather in his thoughts about issues of abandonment, a whole area of something he was well introduced with.
DogDay being as leaderly as he was, thought it would be best to go look for the two of you. KickinChicken was admittedly reluctant, Hoppy was raring to go somewhere and on the off chance CatNap was rather interested in the situation now. No matter the emotional state of everyone, they all had voted then went off to look for you. 
It didn’t take long for you to be found, surprisingly, you weren’t far off from where your work campsite was, having been seen cuddling Bobby. DogDay was in relief, seeing that you two were okay and fine. Though a particular few of the Smiling Critters were jealous of Bobby that she got to cuddle you and nap. CatNap was an easy one to pick out as the jealous type, pouty enough that you remedied the situation with cuddles in return.
Safe to say it was all just a bit hectic for everyone, especially on the off chance of being too far stressed as well. 
Bonus:
“Aw! Let me join.” Crafty cried out, pouting as she crossed her arms. Hoppy lifted her head to where she was in the cuddle pile, then motioned for Crafty to join you and the rest of the Smiling Critters. They were all finely content, though some audible groans were left out. One being CatNap as his tail got stepped on by Bubba.
“Sorry.” Bubba winced, pulling back his feet and readjusting himself in the cuddle pile. CatNap let out a reprieved huff, signifying he wasn’t at all angry with Bubba. He was glad.
DogDay was happy to see the whole group together, made up of all his very dear friends, though they almost felt like family to him. He’d want to take care of you all any day.
“This is one of the best days of my life.”
“Sure, DogDay.” You spoke out, patting his arm. DogDay scoffed, playing off your patting with a pretend offended role, “How mean.” Suddenly, the whole group burst out in laughter. Slowly enough it dissolved into giggles from Hoppy, Kickin and Crafty.
Cuddles are great, but with a whole pile of friends is even greater.
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mommypieck · 5 months
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𑄽୧ sensory deprivation with choso 𔓘 ᰍ
kinktober day 25: pussy delivery for you!!!
✿ choso kamo x circus entertainer! reader
✿ warnings: sensory deprivation, fucking while hanging from a rope, p in v, creampie, oral (m receiving)
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You watch him from your swing in the circus. He's in between all the people, ready to see you perform. You have never noticed him before even though you have performed in this city a lot of times. At first sight, he's different. All of the guys try to maintain their bad boy hair while he's wearing a fucking pigtails. What guy wears pigtails?
"Who wants to be my accomplice?" you ask the audience, and they answer by roaring chanter. Everybody wants to get closer to you.
Your family has a deep history of doing circus. It was your great-grandfather who started all of this. You never complained though. Your job is to swing wrapped in ropes, doing all kinds of tricks.
"What about you, sir?" you point at the guy in pigtails. He looks surprised that you would pick him, but he follows you to the stage. The shyness just radiates off of him, and you think it's the cutest thing ever.
"We have a brave volunteer here, " you exclaim with a smile, "you see those hoops? You can't connect them, but I'm gonna show you that is possible."
This trick is old, but people seem to love it the most. Half of your body is wrapped in the rope swing, and you place one hoop in the guy's hands.
You swing your swing around him, gathering some speed before you throw the hoop at him. He puts it right in front of him at the right moment for it to intertwine with the other hoop. The crowd roars in awe, throwing flowers at you. Another hoop follows suit and lands perfectly into the hoop too.
"That's all guys," you yell at the crowd. They boo at you, wanting to see you do something more, but it's the end of your performance. You hop out of the ropes, gathering the hoops from the guy.
When you're close to his side, you whisper in his ear, "Meet me here at 6 pm."
Choso had his eyes on you for a long time, always watching your videos on YouTube. He used to come to the circus with his family when he was little before you were even born. But he never got the courage to visit you personally. Until today.
He sneaks away from the circus security, heading right into the main tent. Here you are - his goddess. You're in your swing, swinging from one side of the tent to the other.
He dares to step closer to you, making you notice him. You stop by slithering your legs around his waist. He jumps at your touch, and his cheeks turn red when you take his face in your hands.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you." you pout at him, using your finger to graze his bottom lip. He's shy, almost trembling under your touch. Choso tries to control himself, after all, it's the first time he gets to touch you.
"Do you want me to make you feel good?" you whisper in his ear, and he nods timidly. You swing upside down on the ropes, your face coming in contact with his hard-on. You don't waste any time as you pull down his pants to reveal his hard cock. He's big, pretty dark curls on the base. You usually mind when a guy doesn't shave, but it fits him.
Your mouth wraps around his cock, and you swirl your tongue on the base. His shaking hands find their way to your hair, and he guides you. he slowly thrusts his cock deeper when he sees you have no trouble taking in.
"I love your mouth." he moans. This is better than he imagined. Your mouth is way warmer than his own fist. This is exactly what turns him on, you in the ropes with his cock in your mouth. He whines when you pull away from him.
You turn normally again to tell him he can do whatever he wants with you. He's eager to finally fuck you, finally sinking his cock into the woman he dreamt of for years and years.
Choso grabs the robes, tying your wrists together while keeping you secure with the rest of them. The dress you're wearing doesn't conceal your body, and he has no issue pulling the bottom of your bodysuit to the side.
He nearly moans when he gets to see your glistening pussy. His fingertips pet your wetness, and he uses it as lube for his cock.
His length pushes all the way inside of your pussy, making you gasp. He's sloppy, he would never tell you that it's his first time. His head leans on your shoulder, this is too much for him. Your pussy is way tighter than he thought it would be, wrapping around his cock nicely.
"You're so hot." you moan, you want so badly to run your hands through his hair, but he has you wrapped. He's speeding his thrusts, and you suspect that he's close. You want to cum first.
"Come on, baby. fuck me until I'm screaming." he doesn't need to be told twice. His cock angles inside you so that your sweet spot is abused by his cock. He fucks you nicely when he's more focused.
You feel close under his new set of thrusts, and you know that he's close too.
"Gonna cum together?" you ask him. he just nods his head, poor guy too overwhelmed to answer. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, making your pussy wrap even tighter around his cock. Choso can't take it as he cums right inside of you. He just hopes his beloved sweetheart gets pregnant.
"Untie me, please," you beg, you're still in the hair by the restraints. He panics, what if you would like to run away with him?
He carefully unties the rope, setting you down on the ground. He's fast, and he's not gonna let you get away.
"What's your name by the way?" you ask him as you check your outfit to see if there's any damage.
"Choso Kamo."
"Nice to meet you, Choso. I gonna think about when I come back here"
choso smiles to himself, you're not getting anywhere. Not under his watch.
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dollfacefantasy · 3 months
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Puppy Games
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pairing: chris redfield x fem!puppy-hybrid!reader
summary: chris develops a soft spot for the hybrid he's taken in and wants to make her birthday extra special
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, breeding kink, predator/prey (they play chase)
word count: 5.9k
a/n: this is a birthday present for one of the sweetest, most caring people i've ever met, @nexysworld. i love nexy so so much, and you should all go wish her a happy birthday because she's great and she deserves it. i'm so lucky to call her my friend <3
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Chris startles awake upon hearing a creak outside his bedroom window. His life working for the government and fighting bioweapons left him a light sleeper. The slightest noises, like the one he imagined came from the gate to his yard, jolted him awake. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he sits up. He tries to determine if what he heard was real or the remnant of a dream. But then he hears the clatter of something falling over outside, and he knows something, or someone, is out there.
After getting out of bed, he pulls on a shirt and grabs a flashlight and a gun. Slipping on his shoes, he peers out the window and confirms that the gate is open. He cautiously slides out the back door and casts the flashlight around the yard. The beam illuminates the small grassy area, but doesn’t give him an idea of what made that noise.
That is until the beam sweeps over a bit more, and he catches a pair of eyes staring back at him. He jumps from the sudden discovery and aims his weapon. You don’t make any moves at him though. If anything, you look more frightened than he does. You were shaking like a leaf, wide eyes full of fear. He slowly lowers the gun and takes in the sight of you. Floppy ears sprout from the top of your head and a fluffy tail is tucked between your legs. He figures out you’re one of those hybrids he’d heard about. He thought they had only been approved under government supervision for now, but here you were in his backyard.
“Hey there,” he calls as he begins approaching you with caution. He hears you whimper through the darkness, and his heart aches at the vulnerable noise. He closes the gap between the two of you and crouches down to where you had cowered against the fence. You shy away from him, trying to scoot away though you’re prevented by the barrier behind you.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently, “What’s your name?”
You look at him for a moment as if you’re contemplating whether he was worth trusting or not. Eventually, you make your decision and respond with your name. Your voice is quiet, so soft he can barely hear it.
“I’m Chris… Are you lost?” he asks. He honestly had no clue why you would be here. It wasn’t like you were a loose housepet. A hybrid like yourself should’ve been stowed away in some facility with the other pups, doing… whatever they did with your kind. He never had the time to look into it much. It wasn’t his sector.
You shake your head as a response, but it doesn’t look like you even believe it. He scans the light over you, looking for any clues as to your origin. You look like you’ve been on your own for a while. You’re littered with cuts and bruises, and you don’t look like you’ve had a shower in a while. The clothes you wear are plain and functional. They look uniform, government-issued. Something glimmering dangling from the pocket of your sweats catches his eye. He pulls the chain and fishes out some metal tags that confirm his suspicions. They were government issued, displaying your ID number, birthday, and division code. He dangles them in front of you.
“What are these, hm?” he inquires.
Your hand shoots out and yanks them back. “Nothing,” you deflect, looking away.
His eyebrow raises. “I told you. There’s nothing to be scared of. But you’re in luck anyways. I work for the BSAA. I’ll have you home in the morning,” he says.
“That place isn’t home. I’m not going back,” you say with a bit of a growl. The first moment you don’t look like a skittish pup. His interest in you grows.
“Why not? You got somewhere else to be?” he asks.
Just as quick as the fight appeared in you, it vanishes. You shake your head and cast your eyes downward. “I don’t have anywhere, but I’m not going back,” you say, quiet determination in your tone.
“Alright… but what am I supposed to do with you? Can’t just keep you in my backyard,” he says, “I’m sure if you got lost it will be no trouble getting you back in.”
“No!” you say, almost sounding pleading. Frustration flashes across your face as you try to figure out what to do. You look up at him again and decide to take the leap of trusting him. You explain why you won’t return to the hell that is your division of the BSAA. You briefly recount the horrors, the inhumane treatment, the suffering.
Chris listens intently. He lets you speak and doesn’t interrupt once. While he wants to say that could never be true, he knows better. And because it is the truth, he knows he could never take you back to a place like that. No one should have to live like that, but especially not a cute little puppy like yourself.
“How about you come inside with me? You can shower, eat, do whatever you need to. Then we’ll figure something out in the morning,” he offers.
You nod. He stands up and sticks out his hand for you. Looking up at him, you take it and let him pull you to your feet. As you follow him inside, you get a better look at him. He’s tall, but even more noticeable, he’s built. He’s maybe the beefiest guy you’ve ever seen. You can only imagine how strong he is with those thick biceps. How easy it would be for him to hold you down. His legs looked powerful too, like he wouldn’t even stumble if you squirmed around in his arms…
Guiding you into the house, he takes you through the living room and down the hall to the bathroom. Everything here was small but cozy. You liked the size of it, much different from the vast government rooms you were used to. They were big but always filled with bulk-ordered, industrial furniture. Everything there was overly sanitized. Here, it looked lived in.
“So shower’s in here. You’ll have to use my soap cause that’s all I’ve got. Towels are in here too,” he lists off after opening the bathroom to you. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly before continuing. “Can you do everything you need to yourself?”
“Yes, I can do it all myself,” you huff with a glare.
He raises his arms in surrender and backs out of the bathroom to let you have some privacy. You shut the door, and for the first time in a while, you have the luxury of being alone in a room that locks from the inside. You take your time in the shower, scrubbing away the months of roughing it. You didn’t even care that it was “his” soap. He smelled nice, and it felt so good getting clean. When you’re done, you get out and dry yourself off. It’s at this moment that you realize he didn’t give you any clothes.
You timidly peek out of the bathroom, ears bowing. “Chris?” you call.
He appears after a moment. “Yeah?” he answers.
When he sees you wrapped in a towel, he quickly averts his eyes. He grumbles to himself as he comes to the same realization you had moments earlier. He goes into his room and gets one of his shirts and a pair of his sweats for you. He’s quick to bring it back and hand it to you through the sliver of space left by the open door.
Before you retreat to the bathroom, he catches one more glimpse of your body. Your pretty legs and soft skin. Now that you’re clean, he can really see your cute face and delicate features. He shakes his head and gets himself focused again before he heads back to the kitchen.
On the other side of the door, you begin putting on the clothes he gave you. They’re huge on you to the point that it’s almost comical. You roll the sweats as much as you can, but they still struggle to stay up. What really gets you though, is his scent. It’s all over these. You press the cloth to your nose and take in the heady masculine smell. You’re nearly loopy with how it makes you feel, the urge to be claimed flaring up within you.
After you finish dressing, you join him in the kitchen. You hop up onto a seat at the counter while he fidgets with something in the corner. He brings over a plate with a sandwich to you.
“I didn’t really know what you liked, but I’m sure you're hungry,” he says simply.
You nod appreciatively and begin eating. While you’re occupied with that, he goes into the living room and sets you up a bed on the couch. He lays out a few thick blankets and puts some pillows down. It isn’t much, but he’s sure it’s better than wherever you’ve been sleeping on your own.
Once you’re done with your food, you go into the living room and watch him fluff up the cushions for you. He gestures for you to lay down once he finishes, and you do so. He feels a protective urge spark inside him. He doesn’t know how you’d feel about any kind of affection, but he just wanted to do something nice before you slept. He reaches down and brushes some hair out of your face before giving your ear a light and playful tug.
“See you in the morning, pup,” he says instead before exiting to his bedroom.
You squirm a little from the gesture, but a shy smile graces your lips. Your first hint that maybe he wasn’t such a stiff. After he left, you pull your pillows into place and cover yourself with the blankets he provided to try and sleep.
A couple of hours go by though, and you’re still awake. The makeshift bed he created for you was much better than anything you’d slept on in a while, but you still couldn’t get yourself to drift off. You shift around for a bit, trying to get comfy. Nothing works. You whine and kick the blankets off yourself. Huffing with irritation, you try to figure out what it is. Part of you already knows, but the other half soon catches up.
His scent. It was all over you now that you’d bathed in his soap and were wearing his clothes. It followed you everywhere you went. It told you everything you needed to know about him on an instinctual level. With every breath, your body ached for him. Deep down inside, you wanted him there with you, holding you, whispering that everything was ok, that you were a good girl.
You look over, down the hall at his door. It was mostly shut, but a little crack was left open. It was basically calling for you to come in.
So you get up and pad across the hall. You’re sure to be quiet, set on not disturbing his rest. You slip through the door and make your way to the foot of the bed. You stand there for a moment. He was asleep, facing the edge of the bed, shirt off again. Your tail swishes slowly as you contemplate the idea.
‘Should I?’ you think to yourself. It was a risk, but you wanted to be near him so bad. You were tired of being alone.
So you decide to go for it. You kick off his annoying sweats. They kept pooling around your feet and tripping you, so they were left on the floor. You crawl onto the mattress and up the bed. He stirs, but you keep going. You’re quick to slide next to him, slotting yourself against his back. You wrap your arms around him and nuzzle against his warm skin.
That easily wakes him. His eyes flutter open, and he mumbles in confusion as he tries to turn around. It takes him a moment when you’re clinging to him like that, but he manages and looks down at you. He blinks a few times, watching with bewilderment as you tuck yourself against his chest and nestle your face against his muscles.
“What are you doing?” he rasps.
Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Not wanting to get kicked out, you look at him with the best timid puppy dog eyes you can manage. “It’s cold out there,” you say sadly.
“I gave you blankets,” he says. 
You sigh a little. Clearly, he was dense in more ways than physical.
“I got lonely too… It’s hard for me to sleep alone,” you say, starting to pout a little.
He continues looking at you. He wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew how much you had been through so far. What kind of guy would he be to deny you some comfort in your time of need?
“Alright, c’mere,” he sighs and pulls you into his chest all the way, wrapping those big arms around you. One hand rubs your back while the other strokes your hair. “Get some sleep, pup. You need to rest.”
You nod obediently and settle in. With his warmth and scent engulfing you, you’re out like a light. It’s not even ten minutes later before he senses the soft, even rhythm of your breath, letting him know you’re asleep. He shuts his eyes too, dozing off for the night.
In the morning, when Chris wakes, he feels you before he sees you. He feels your warm body pressed to his, your quiet breaths fanning over his skin. He cracks his eyes open and finds you looking as precious as he imagined, tail twitching in your sleep. It was at that moment that he knew for certain that there was no way he was letting anyone else at the BSAA get their hands on you. He wouldn’t be able to rest ever again knowing you were locked away, hurting and sad.
He waited a little while after you woke up to pitch the idea, not wanting to startle you with such a big life change the second you opened your eyes. But once he did lay out the possibility of staying with him, you were all in. Chris’s house was a thousand times better than a park bench or alleyway, and you thought he was pretty nice.
Of course, after a few months of staying together, you both thought much more of the other than “pretty nice.” You loved him, and he completely adored you. You were the piece from his life he didn’t even know was missing. You gave him love he never felt anywhere else and let him express love in return. You were the sweetest little thing he’d ever come across, so affectionate and loving, but you were funny too, always making him laugh with whatever you got up to.
As he spent more time with you, he loved finding out things you liked and little quirks about your personality. He found you loved sitting in his lap, loved curling up with a nest of blankets. He found he loved buying you things in your favorite color just to see your eyes light up. Never did he think his room would be crowded with stuffies and other things of that nature.
It only took no time at all for him to understand how playful you were. He could never be bored with you around. You always wanted to mess with him. You’d taken to calling him “daddy” pretty quickly. The first time he’d heard you say it, all his thoughts came to a screeching halt.
“What’d you say?” he asked.
You repeated yourself confidently with no indication that you’d done anything out of the ordinary. He tried to explain to you why that maybe wasn’t the best idea, but you put on the same puppy dog eyes that convinced him to let you stay in bed on your first night. So from then on, he had a cute puppy girl running around his house calling him daddy.
Even though he wasn’t crazy about it at first, he justified that if it would make you happy, it was worth it. Soon enough though, that word falling from your lips was his favorite sound in the world. He told himself it was because it showed how comfortable you were with him. It definitely wasn’t because he felt his blood rushing south whenever you curled up to him and looked at him with those big sweet eyes saying you loved your daddy.
You also always wanted to play. Whether it was chase or wrestling, the two of you weren’t going to relax until you were thoroughly tired out. Chris loved seeing you have fun, but these games made it harder to suppress the effect you had on him. When he’d chase after you, he'd force himself to just pick you up in the end and not pin you down and stuff you full of him till you were truly exhausted. Or when you’d wrestle, you’d wiggle your hips, whimper and whine, all while he had you underneath him. Every time he’d have to end it by going to the bathroom and jerking off real quick before returning to you.
It all came to a head though when you developed the habit of sitting between his legs while the two of you watched tv. You loved being surrounded by his strong arms, but there was something about being below him, encased by his massive thighs. You’d get comfortable with your blanket and just relax between his legs, resting your head against his knee. And that was fine, but then you wanted to look up at him. You’d turn around on your knees, gazing up at him like the lovesick puppy you were. And then one day you started to nuzzle your face against his lap.
“Hey, hey, baby, what are you doing?” he said quickly, trying to lift you off him before it was too late.
“Just showing you I love you,” you responded, continuing to drag your nose along his pants and even pressing little kisses to the area.
He squirmed a bit. Obviously, had he really wanted to, he could have pushed you off him in a second. But he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Not to mention he liked how it felt. Once he’d given up his resistance, it wasn’t long before there was a large, hard bulge in his jeans. You were still his precious pup, but you were also a pretty girl rubbing her face all over his cock. He was only human.
You weren’t stupid. This is what you had wanted all along. It’s why you called him daddy, put yourself in every compromising position you could think of. You thought you made it completely obvious that you wanted him to take you and fuck you dumb whenever he felt like it. But all that went over his head, so this is what it came to. But fortunately, it seemed to work.
You freed him from the constraints of his pants and watched his cock spring to life. Timidly wrapping your fingers around it, you brought it to your lips. You licked it a few times and kissed the tip before sliding it into your mouth. Chris’s eyes fell shut as he groaned.
“Fuck, baby. Such a good puppy,” he grunted, tipping his head back.
You sucked with dedication, savoring the heavy weight of him on your tongue, the smell of his musk filling your nose. Your saliva dribbled down his cock as you bobbed your head. He petted your hair mumbling that you were such a good girl for him, such a pretty puppy.
You kept going, using your hand on the part your mouth struggled to cover. He pulsed in your mouth, his muscles tightening as he spilled his hot cum down your throat. You wanted to keep going, and that’s when he really had to use his strength to pull you off and lift you into his lap.
From then on, that became part of your shared routine. He found it was a way to keep you occupied that didn’t take much work on his part. He’d come home, and you’d scramble to the door to greet him. You’d talk a little about each other’s days. Then he’d sit on the couch, already undoing his belt, and ask “Does my pup think she deserves a treat?”
You’d vigorously nod, tail wagging as you positioned yourself at his feet while he pulled his cock out. You’d take it in your mouth as soon as he let you and just shut your brain off. Chris would watch your eyes go glossy as you drooled all over his shaft and lapped at his balls. He realized that this was a way to feel close to him more than anything else.
The first heat you had while living with him brought you even closer together than the countless blowjobs. He basically stayed buried balls deep in you for an entire weekend. He pumped you full with load after load, only taking small breaks when he absolutely had to. 
Even when you weren’t in heat, he felt like he could barely keep up with you sometimes. Your favorite way to play became to bounce on his lap till you couldn’t think straight or have him pound you into the mattress until it felt like the bed would break. He couldn’t complain though. How lucky was he to have such a loving pup?
Everyday with you in his life was brighter than the last. Today though, today was a very special day. Today was your birthday. He comes home from work, small bag in hand. As usual, the second you hear the front door shut, you rush to come see him. You fling yourself into his chest, nearly toppling him over despite your smaller stature.
“Woah, hey there, sweetheart. Miss me today?” he says. He ruffles your hair before wrapping his arm around you and walking to the kitchen. You were still clinging onto him as the two of you walked. Your tail brushes his back as it swishes with your excitement.
“Miss you everyday,” you murmur.
“Get in any trouble today, baby?” he teases.
“No, but the day’s not over yet,” you beam up at him.
He laughs lightly and shakes his head. “Well, I think I need you to hold off on that for a little longer cause I have something for you,” he says, lifting the bag and showing it off for you.
“A treat?” you ask excitedly.
“Mhm, a special treat for my birthday girl,” he says. He places the bag on the counter and smiles at you eyeing it with curiosity.
“What is it?” you ask, ears perking up.
“Why don’t you open it and find out?” he says.
So you do. You tentatively reach forward and take the plain white tissue paper between your fingers. Pulling out the sheets, you drop them to the floor and tilt the bag into your line of sight. Pale purple fluff sticks out of the top. You pull the object out and find a pretty stuffed bear, another you could add to the growing collection on your side of the bed. You look up at him, beaming. He laughs softly and shrugs.
“Glad you like it, pup. I got one more thing in there for you though,” he says.
He takes out a small square box and opens it. After he puts it on the countertop, you see it’s a cupcake decorated with pretty purple frosting. While you admire the color of the dessert, Chris reaches over you and sticks a candle in the top. He lights it up and tucks your hair behind your ear.
“I’m not gonna sing for ya, but I want you to make a wish,” he says softly.
You didn’t even know what to say. No one had ever even celebrated your birthday before let alone been so nice about it. You take a moment to contemplate what you’d even wish for. He steps closer and hugs you from behind, rubbing your arm.
“Go ahead, sweetheart. I won’t even ask what you wished,” he whispers and plants another kiss on your head.
You finally decide and blow out the candles. You then turn to him and hug him like you did when he first walked through the door. His hand runs over your head. He cracks another smile hearing you mumble a thank you.
“You’re welcome, baby. Just wanted you to have a nice birthday. You wanna eat your cake now?” he says.
You look up at him and shake your head. He would have been confused, but he recognizes the look in your eyes. You’re up to something. There’s a plan forming in that pretty head of yours.
“Oh? Why not?” he asks.
“Well, remember last night. You said we could do whatever I wanted tonight, and I said I had to think about it. But now I know,” you say as you take a step back from his large frame.
“And what is it that you want to do?” he asks, following with a pace in your direction.
You walk over to the door leading to the backyard, and your goal starts to become clear to him. “You were bad today, Daddy. You left the back door unlocked. Woulda been so easy for me to get out and run away,” you say with that mischievous lilt in your voice.
“Oh, but why would my puppy want to do something like that on her birthday? Thought you were my good girl. Good girls don’t behave like that,” he says, joining your game without hesitation.
“I am a good girl. But I get so bored,” you whine, “Need to run around.”
You open the door and step out onto the porch. He follows along, a knowing smirk rising to his face.Your tail goes back and forth behind you
“If you want to do that, you ask Daddy. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you Daddy knows best. You can’t be trusted out here on your own. You’ll get hurt and then come running home, crying. And you know it breaks my heart to see my baby upset,” he says.
“I wouldn’t do that. I’d be fine. Don’t need Daddy to take care of me,” you challenge. Despite your bratty facade, you could barely suppress your grin.
“Wow,” Chris says and places his hand on his chest, feigning hurt, “Who knew my puppy was so tough, hm? Is the same girl that whines me for more kisses? Clings to my legs every chance she gets? The same girl who begs me to breed her every single night? Maybe I’ve spoiled you too much. Made you an ungrateful little brat.”
Your face heats up and your ears fall. You struggle to think of a good response.
“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles, “So c’mon pretty puppy, get back in the house, and we’ll eat that cake in there. Bought it just for you.”
You shake your head. “It’s my birthday. I get to do whatever I want. You said so yourself, can’t take it back now,” you say before bolting out the gate and through the grass to the vast sea of trees behind the house.
He shakes his head and starts running after you. “Sounds like the only thing you want right now is for me to teach you some manners and pound that little cunt into the dirt,” he calls after you.
Your laughter carries through the open forest air. You prance over tree roots and under branches, occasionally looking over your shoulder to gauge how far behind Chris was. He bounds across the dirt along your trail. He tears through the foliage, biceps flexing against his shirt as he pushes the plant life out of the way.
Excitement courses through your limbs. You're breathing hard, your heart slamming against your ribcage while gliding through the woods. He’s gaining on you quickly though. Yeah, you were fast, but he was fast and had longer legs. If he wanted to, you’d be caught already. But a big part of the fun for you was the chase.
After a bit more running though, he decides it’s time to call it. He runs with extra speed for a few strides and lunges towards you. You squeal as he tackles you to the ground. He made sure you were engulfed by him though, shielded from any potential harm.
You both roll through the dirt, but at the end of your tussle, he’s on top, pinning you against the earth with a thud. He smiles down at you.
“Oh no, looks like my puppy’s birthday plans have been ruined,” he breathes while looking down at you in your compromising position.
“Mhm, it’s your fault meanie,” you whimper, attempting to jab your knees into his sides.
He dodges the weak attacks and laughs. “Too bad. I’m a meanie, and you’re my little brat. That’s just how it is,” he says as he begins pulling your clothes off you and piling them up nearby.
“Daddy!” you whine and swat at him, “Someone could see!”
He chuckles at that. He tears your panties off you and flips you over onto your stomach with ease. Leaning forward, he speaks into your ear.
“Yeah, and what are they gonna see? Just a responsible owner training his naughty little puppy. Don’t think anyone would object to that.”
He yanks you around some more, getting you into position. Your cheek is pressed to the dirt while your ass is in the air. He holds your hip and grinds his clothes bulge against your soaked pussy. You whimper from the sensation, rocking your hips onto the material as much as you can in his grip. You leave behind some slick on the fabric once you’ve pulled away.
“Look at you. Such a messy baby. We’re gonna have to train that out of you too,” he says.
Before you know it, his pants are down just enough for his cock to spring out. He lines up with your entrance and starts pushing in. Your walls embrace him like always, as if welcoming home. He groans from the warmth that squeezes around him while you gasp from the stretch.
He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he starts pumping himself in and out of you. You whimper and dig your fingers into the ground, seeking some form of leverage for yourself. His hips bump into you over and over, dragging your soft cheek against the dirt.
“I’m not hearing any of that attitude now? What happened, pup, ten seconds on daddy’s dick, and you’re fucked stupid?” he mocks.
“No!” you mewl. Your hips are rocking back into his, meeting every single thrust.
“Whatever you say, birthday girl,” he grunts
He’s not gentle right now. His hips connect with your ass at a rapid pace, the clapping echo sounding through the trees. His fingers are digging into your flesh, his teeth poke his own lip as his own pleasure floods his body.
“I don’t know how many times I’ve had to teach you this same. fucking. lesson. You need your daddy,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a thrust, “You’re so stubborn, pup. Gonna have to do this even more than usual to get you to loosen up.”
You babble protests against the dirt and weakly shake your head.
“What’s that?” he asks with a particularly harsh thrust, “Talking back still? Guess I haven’t done good enough yet.”
He keeps up his thrusts, maintaining a consistent speed, but increasing the power. You jolt with each stroke. Your hands curl into complete fists. You cry out, your legs twitching in the dirt. Soon enough, you’ve given up on playing defiant and willingly fall into submission for him.
“Mmm, daddy… feels… feels good. Best daddy in the whole world,” you slur.
“Yeah, now that you’re getting some cock, I’m the best daddy ever. Funny how that works,” he teases as he continues to drill into you.
He watches you squirming on the ground beneath him. He leans down closer to you, pressing his muscular front to your back, letting you feel his size, how easy it is for him to keep you in place and use you for his pleasure.
“You know, sweet baby, I think I’ve got a solution for this problem you keep having, but don’t worry it’s one you’ll like,” he says.
“Wh- mmph- what is it?” you ask around whimpers.
“I’m just gonna have to do what you’re always asking. Gonna have to breed my pretty little puppy,” he answers.
“Gonna- gonna breed me?” you repeat.
“Yeah, baby, gonna breed you. Stuff you full of cum. And if it doesn’t take out here, don’t worry, I’ll make sure it does at some point tonight. Gonna have you carrying my babies by the end of the week,” he grunts with a smack to your ass.
You moan and nod excitedly. “Yeah, yeah, want it,” you slur.
“Oh, I know you do, and think about it, it will work out for both of us. You’ll be the prettiest mama for our pups, make me so proud every single day. And you’ll be too swollen to run off and get yourself hurt. Isn’t that great?”
A blissful smile spreads on your face. “Mhm, great. Smart daddy,” you say, your voice a clear display of how fucked out you are.
“Good girl. Daddy has to be smart to take care of his dumb little puppy, always causing trouble,” he says.
He felt you trembling hard, pulsing around his cock as you got close to cumming. He works himself deeper inside you, stroking all the places you need to reach that high point. A few more thrusts and you burst. You gush around him with a long whine. You squirm and buck as he holds you in place and keeps rutting into you until it becomes too much for him. He also lets loose and shoots his cum inside you. He fucks it into you a bit, before slowly pulling out.
You collapse onto your side, crumpling up on the dirt just like your clothes. He smiles at that, finding it so precious. He rubs your back gently and leans down to kiss your temple.
“Such a good puppy baby. My good girl,” he coos and scratches behind your ears.
He cleans himself off a little. It doesn’t take much work before he’s looking like he was before. You, on the other hand, are a whole other story. For you, he brushes the dirt off you as best he can, knowing you’re gonna need a bath after you take a nap. He then pulls your clothes back on, over your limbs which are mostly limp at the moment. Kissing your forehead, he scoops you up and starts carrying you back to the house. You’re all sleepy and clingy, tightening your arms around him and mumbling about how much you love him.
“I know, pup,” he reassures you, rubbing your back as he keeps heading towards the house.
Once he’s there, he takes you inside and flops down in his old recliner. He kicks it back and cradles you to his chest. You get comfy pretty quick, snuggling up to him and nuzzling his chest.
“That’s it, baby. Daddy’s got you. Get some rest, and then we’ll have some cake when you’re up,” he whispers.
You give one more drowsy nod before passing out on top of him. He holds you even closer, watching his precious puppy rest.
“Sweet dreams, birthday girl.”
630 notes · View notes
thvlouvre · 10 months
Text
[One-shot]
Little Mouse — Park Jimin (Part 1)
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✔︎ Summary: the principal's son, the reason why you can't enjoy school and the reason why you can't leave it finds out you're having a date with somebody that isn't him. ✔︎ Word Count: 7.6k (first part) ✔︎ Trope: Bully Yandere Jimin x Chubby brazilian oc, enemies to lovers (?), smut ✔︎ Warnings: 19 year old jimin (because he's hot asf), bullying, fat shaming, self esteem issues, evil teenagers, physical violence, gore, degradation, jimin is obnoxious, se*ual tension, bratty reader, jealousy, possessive Jimin, stalking. ✔︎ thvlouvre's note: honestly it's been a hell of a week for me and to write this one has been a little difficult, and since it's been 10 days and it's still not ready I wanted to post the first part at least, maybe your feedback will motivate me 🫶🏻❤️ thank u again to the lovely @lilliankoo for her help and proofreading this! part 2 coming out later when this flu is goneeee 🤧 ✔︎ Part 2 | Main masterlist.
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“Sorry, but you seem to be fully recovered, I can’t give you another day” the doctor said while checking with a lamp over  your eyes, moving around the flashlight from one extreme to the other making your sight follow it. 
“I still feel dizzy, though” you lied, trying to play dumb so you could get one more day at least. 
“That might be because you’re not eating well, you look pale and tired” the doctor turned off the lamp and put  it inside his coat pocket, at the mention of food your stomach twisted needy “If the blow on your head isn’t because you fell off, and it was something else you should tell me, is somebody bothering you __?”
You stared at him, his silver hair and greyish skin making him look like someone you could trust, but at the same time remembering you were not one of them, you were just another foreigner in that hell’s school, and everybody was up to his service. 
You moved here six months ago, when you won a scholarship to a franchise of your own high school in another country, same classes, same uniform, same installations, different language, and people. It was very exciting and new, it was all fun and games until he saw his next victim  in you  to unleash his devilish games. 
Park Jimin. The top-notch student. 
Handsome and rich, great manners and great body paired with a beautiful smile, but his eyes were from another world. Cold, lifeless, evil. Every single time he glanced at you, you could feel the contempt he had for you, the hateful and vicious disgust he felt for you. And he was never alone, he surrounded himself with a litter of creeps, bootlickers that did whatever he told them to do. 
His aggressions started by being harmless, they were playful even. He would drink a sip from your strawberry milk and return it almost empty. It didn’t bother you, you had a fridge in your room full of those. He would steal your pencils or change your backpack and books to the last chair of the room when you went to the restroom in the middle of the class. Yes, they were annoying, but initially you thought he was just a joker and that he liked to prank you because you were the new girl. 
It all became insufferable when you made the mistake of taking a second bottle of strawberry milk with you one day, and just when he had arrived next to you to steal yours, you took out the second milk and hand it to him. 
“What’s this?” he asked annoyed.
“Strawberry milk” you answered, your thick  Brazilian accent floating in the air. 
“I know it’s strawberry milk, what do you want me to do with it?”
“It’s for you” you said, your smile shining under the sunlight “You always take my milk, I guess you like it, so I brought one for you” He stayed in silence for two minutes, just looking at you confused, why would you bring something to him when he has being awful with you?
“I’m ____, by the way, I’m new” you extended your hand to greet him formally, but he interrupted you again. 
“I know your name, I know you’re new” he said, not even bothering to hold your hand “Do you know who I am?” 
“No” and just when you were about to ask him his name, he opened the pink bottle and pour it above your head, your neat and clean uniform getting all spilled with pink milk and your hair wet and sticky. “Park Jimin, my father is the principal so don’t you forget that honey” and he left, the student’s eyes following you after you ran to the toilet to clean  yourself.
His attacks continued getting meaner and meaner each day, but ultimately he would always ask his gang to do something wrong to you while he would just watch. For an unknow reason, when he was with his gang his attacks were lighter, just him mocking you or insulting you, making you the laughingstock of the class, always pointing at how out of shape you were.
When his group of friends were alone, not a sight of Jimin around, that’s when they would get violent, throwing your body between them in a circle, pushing you, pulling your hair. Four days ago, one of his friends hit your head with a locker door and left you unconscious in the hallway, that’s why you were so insistent with the doctor to give you another day of inability due to your injury. 
You were getting tired and regretful of coming here in the first place. In your hometown, your country, you were the most popular girl of the school, everybody loved you and no one ever laughed at your body shape. Having curves was normal for them, but here… they seemed to hate it. You stopped eating because of that. 
“I can’t give you another day, you told me that you tripped over the stairs” that’s what you said, because if you tell the principal or any other teacher that his son and his friends were making your life a living hell they  wouldn’t do anything about it, you’ve tried, many times. You went with a teacher, and they seemed interested at first, but as soon as you dropped his name they froze and told you to go with the prefect. You went with the prefect, and when you told him it was Jimin the one bothering you he told you go with the school coordinator, and the list kept going.
No one ever did anything. 
“No one is helping! I’ve been with the discipline coordinator so many times and he keeps telling me to come back to you and make you pass the memo to the principal” you said  to the principal’s secretary. At this point, you knew they would never let him know what his son was up to, but you still held  hope that someone will pity you and stop this madness.
“Listen, I won’t be the one telling the principal that his son is committing harassment to another student, if he was a nice and fair man I would but if you think Jimin is despicable, his father is ten times worst” the secretary, who was clearly tired of you and her job in general, spitted in between her teeth “I suggest you to go yourself if you are brave enough, but one thing is sure, he won’t care, he never cares when it comes to his son” 
You swallowed nervously, trying to hide your fear and helplessness. 
On your way out of the office,  they found you. 
“Look who is here!” one of the boys said, his name was Chanwook and he was Jimin’s second hand. He was taller and skinnier, but that didn’t prevent him from throwing you to the walls and floor as strongly as he could. He was the one who hated you the most, just after Jimin himself, of course “Oh, no guys, she’s coming out of the principal’s office, she’s a sneak!” he faked preoccupation with a pout.
“Sneaky little bitch!” that was Meeyon, the alleged girlfriend of Jimin. And only alleged because Jimin himself never held  her hand, kissed her or acted sweetly towards her in public, actually he would ignore her whenever she started to act mellow with him with people around. But everybody knew he fucks her on a regular basis “You weren’t satisfied with being ugly but you’re also a snitch fat bitch” 
She grabbed you by the chin and held  your face close to hers “Jimin will know about this” 
“Jimin would throw her from the stairs” the sadistic voice of Chanwook sounded overly excited with the perspective of pushing you off the stairs and see how much it would take you to faint. You gasped because that sounded more like a Chanwook’s wish, Jimin never got physical with you, he just fucks with your mind and emotions. It wasn’t better, but still.
“I think Jimin would actually make her run in the court” Junghae suggested and made the other two laugh, “We should make her run until she can’t breathe” he said eating his sandwich carelessly. Junghae was the stupidest guy you’ve ever met, saying his dumbest thoughts out loud and pretending they weren’t mean at all. 
You felt the panic paralyzing your body, the fear and angst running and making you want to cry but holding it. You tried to walk past them, walking by the side to the main door, but Junghae grabbed you by the hand and pulled your arm back with them again, his hand hurting your wrist, making you  feel the blood accumulating where he was touching you. 
“Where do you think you’re going? It’s already 4 o’clock and we are not done with you…” the way his voice was always threatening made you shiver, his eyes always burnt with the deepest and purest type of hate; as if he for real wanted to see you lying on the floor lifeless. 
You tried to run away, but they chased you and Chanwook hit your head with the door locker and left you there when your body laid for five minutes unconscious. A person from the cleaning department found you and called the ambulance. 
They gave you a five-day inability, taking classes over the webcam and sending the home works via the email, it was paradise. You didn’t want it to end. 
“I need you to tell me if someone is bothering you, __” the doctor said again, but you shook your head nervously. 
“No, I’m fine. I-I just tripped” you didn’t sound convince and judging by the fear in your eyes he knew you weren’t.
“You know I work to a medical agency and not the school, right?” he mentioned, like wanting to clarify his job position to you “I go wherever my agency tells me to go, my superior is my hospital manager not the principal, I can report any harassment and bring the Ministry of Education if necessary.” 
“No, it’s okay, I-“
“__, is it Mr. Park’s son?”
Your silence was his answer, he was familiarized with his manias.
“I can call my supervisor but he’s on vacation, he will be back in two weeks, until then you can always come to the nursery room, I’ll hide you here” and finally let you go, feeling protected at last.
You went to the grocery store that afternoon, resign that you would come back to the school routine of wake up, sleep in class and get hurt, so you decided to treat yourself and eat some candies while watching a tv show on your laptop. There was a grocery store half a street near where your student’s residency building was, so you always went there to shop. 
You picked a regular black skirt, a white tank top and red converse. Your loved gummies, they were your favorite snack, so you picked three different flavors, cherry soda, pop corns, ice cream and chocolate bars. You let your full basket fell with the cashier but there was a little card that said: I went to the restroom; I’ll be back soon. 
You waited patiently there, taking your phone out to scroll a little when the bell on the front door rang and you didn’t turn around to see, your attention fixated on a video of a kitten playing with a rubber duck.
Jimin got into the store without any hopes of you being there, but in the months you’ve been in school with him he discovered where you lived and he figured you would usually buy your stuff here, since it was the closest grocery shop to your building. It was very far away from his house, he lived in a very nice area where all the houses where big, majestic, and empty. This neighborhood was economically different from his, but there he was. 
All the times he came here you were never present. Once or twice, he saw you coming out, making him regret not hurrying up enough to catch you inside for a minute or two. So when he enters the store this time, his hope is all gone, not really believing you would be there but holding to the routine; until he sees you. 
You were turning your back to him, your exquisite voluptuous figure bending over the checker waiting for the cashier to come back, your ass perked out and bouncing to the rhythm of the music coming out of your phone and your hair pulled on a messy hair bun. You had a red ribbon adorning your hair bun. He froze when he caught the nudity of your legs in that short skirt and images of your red converse stepping on him pleased him. 
He coughed his throat softly, trying to swallow and picked random shit from the store. He hurried because even when he wanted to make it seem casual, he wanted to talk to you. He opened the fridge and grabbed a can soda, chips and condoms. He drank your silhouette from behind before talking and ruining your day. Your legs were thick and soft, just the way legs should be. 
He remembered the day he saw them for the first time, it was on your first week after moving, you were using the EP uniform, but it was slightly different from the rest of the girl’s uniform. It was a short, and that was the regular uniform on your country, sports skirt or shorts. You were the only student showing off your legs and you seemed like it didn’t matter, running and jumping like nothing, and he wanted you for that. 
You had something he didn’t: confidence.
Actual confidence and not like his fake performance of being powerful and feared because of his position. Here you were nothing, nobody knew you or your family, and yet you were so free and powerful. Maybe that was why he felt the need to tear you down. 
“You’re not eating all that, are you?” he teased, and he felt proud when he saw your back arch in defense recognizing his voice without looking at him, your body language responding to the sound of his voice so quick. He reached the checker as well, and placed his stuff right next to you, watching the basket and the products “You eat for two, uh?” 
“And what if I do? that’s none of your business” you responded infuriated and he loved the way you would never back off, you would always put him in his place and were never afraid of talking back. He was the powerful  here, but you never let him walk over you, that was why he became addicted to bullying you so fast. 
“Actually, it is my business because as you know I'm president of the ecology club and this month's homework is to raise awareness about whales” and looked down your body, scanning you from your sun kissed skin to your boobs that were displaying over the tank top’s low neck. You thought he was judging you but the reality was that Jimin was memorizing, so he could use his imagination later. 
“And when are you going to raise awareness about the scarcity of your brain?” 
“When you tell for who all that food is” he spoke trying to control his laugh, he really loved your quick and smart answers, they made his day better. 
You doubt to say it, because he would mock in your face and call you a liar, but he already did that every day, so you happily responded him: “Believe it or not, I have a date.” 
His heart got numb. You couldn’t be having a date, why would anyone pick you for a date? Ever since the day you arrived, he marked you; bullying and harassing you was his way to let everybody know you were damaged merchandise. He isolated you through pranks and insults so everybody would know that if they made friends with you, they would face the same destiny. 
So, why would you be having a date now? 
“Who’s the loser?” he carelessly asked. 
“Why? You’re jealous?” you answered, praying for the cashier to hurry and charge you so you could leave. 
“You wish, I just pity them, sent him my condolences.” He sounded significantly mad, but you didn’t notice since he was always mad when you were around.  
“I will when you rest in peace.”
“Bitch.” He spitted. 
“Asshole.”
The cashier appeared, confused and astonished because on his way to his place he caught pieces of your conversation but he stayed quiet, not wanting to know what was going on between the two of you. 
“Little mouse!” he shouted before you leave the shop, and you hated how your body stopped on his way out as if it was your natural name “Will you go to school tomorrow? The day is boring when you’re not there.”
You rolled your eyes, not answering to his ridiculous question because he knew you were going to be there tomorrow. You hurried to your apartment, and when you prepared all the snacks in front of the couch’s table you noticed your red hair ribbon was missing. It probably fell inside the grocery store, you were about to go back  and ask if they had it but the sound of  a ring on the door pulled your attention and you forgot about it. 
“Taehyung!” you greeted happily, letting  him in. 
“I got you this…” he said shyly  after taking out a small gift package. It was a heart shaped hair pin and it was red, your favorite color. You wore it proudly and turned on the tv, ready to enjoy the comfort of his company. 
Taehyung was a good boy, very nice and kind. He was also a scholarship student, but he was from around, so he didn’t really have a problem blending in and being invisible. You met on your weekly sessions with the school psychologist to check on your process of adapt to the school. You would sit  next to each other, waiting for the psychologist to say your name or his and have your fifteen-minute chat. 
The first weeks he was very quiet, wearing his headphone and watching you from  the corner of his eyes but not talking. You started to feel he was into you when he smiled for a fraction of second when you appeared. One day you became bold and asked him what was he listening, he took his headphones off and put them on you. He was listening to jazz, fancy and old. 
Taehyung knew a little bit of what Jimin and his friends were doing to you because he has seen the bruises on your skin, but you didn’t want him to get involve since him and Jimin had the same age they shared most of the classes. 
“You can’t keep living like this, __” Tae said, seeing the new bruise Chanwook left on your left arm. 
“It’s nothing”
“If you want me I can make a police file, start an investigation” his dad was a police officer, so it made sense his savior complex was a heritage.
“Let’s not talk about that, let’s watch a movie” and both of you started to eat and relax, you even let him kiss you when the movie was over. Sweet and gentle, his hands were on  your cheeks and your cheeks only, like the gentleman he was. 
You forgot about the ribbon, but on the other side of the city Jimin tied it up to his wrist and hid it underneath his shirt sleeve, kissing it and touching it because he had something that belonged to you. It angered him how this was the closest he would ever get to you, if he wasn’t such an asshole and could be more like you, kind and trustworthy. 
The thing with Jimin was that he knew what was going on between you and him, and he wasn’t stupid. He knew that he wanted you, he craved you badly and everyday being far from you was harder and harder. But Jimin had issues, he never learnt how to be friendly, everything was handed to him easily and even his friendships were attached to him under a specific desire they wanted from him. His money, his connections, his power, sex. 
No one had ever been real to him, not even his own father, who ignored him and despised him ever since he could remember. Ever since his mother left the two and broke their family; the hate was mutual though. Jimin hated his father as much as his father hated him, it was fine, he had an entire school ready to lick his shoes. 
Until you came. So bright and sweet. 
You, with your generous curves and your red lipstick, red nails, and red converse. It was the perfect color for you because every time he pictured you, he saw you in red satin sheets. Red, the color of sex and violence. The color for passion and blood. He watched you from afar the first week after you arrived, and he noticed you were kind and open, gifting your smiles and your laughs to everyone who would look in your direction, but not him. You weren’t interested in him, mainly because no one had told you who he was or maybe you did knew and simply didn’t care. 
He found your presence insulting and likable. And if it wasn’t confusing enough already, you gifted him a strawberry milk bottle after he started to bother you, that got him off the waterline, destabilized him and made him sink. The reality of his horrible persona hit him like a truck, and to this new sensation of warmness and affability he responded with the only way he knew: hurting  you. 
Every day he saw your kind eyes lose their shine and become angrier, bitter. They would light up just when he showed up in front of you, with hate and resentment and for the first time in his life someone was looking at him with realness. He was the cause of a real emotion behind someone’s gaze, and he found that amazing. 
Why couldn’t he just say hello like a normal nineteen-year-old? No, the only way he could show you how much he wanted you was hurting you and haunting you, making sure you would never try to cross that line of goodness ever again with him, but also having you close enough he could consume your mind and your days, making him the only thing you could think of. Because the most similar thing to love was hate, and he wanted you to hate him with all your heart. 
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You walked down the aisle, your eyes following the book’s spine, looking for the one you were needing for your essay. You previously had asked the librarian to add you to the waitlist for that specific book, since your school only had one copy of it and it was highly requested. According to the date, the book should be free for you now.
You knelt down to keep looking at the title when a noise pulls you out of your thoughts, the sound of two mouths crashing together and the clicks of tongues came to you from your left and before you could stop yourself you looked in that direction. There he was, the person you hated the most on this planet earth, kissing a blonde girl.
His hands were all over her body, he was facing the hallway and her back was all you could see of her. She had her hands on his black hair and his were moving up and down her thighs, and you recognized him just with one look at his hands. The same hands that would throw your books to the floor, the same hands that had push you and the same hands that pointed at you mockingly.
You didn’t want to see Park Jimin making out with someone, even when you found unbelievable he had the ability to feel something pleasing, you would have swear that man could only feel anger and bitterness inside him, but something about the way he was kissing her kept you interested. He opened his eyes, and without breaking the kiss, he smiled when he recognized you, eyeing you during the kiss.
You could tell his eyes shone with that devilish light of his, and his performance during the hook up got heavier. You collected yourself, remembering your task of finding the book and leave the hell out of there, but the book wasn’t there. There was an empty spot where it was supposed to be, and just when you were about to stand go with the librarian the monster spoke.
“Enjoying the show, little mouse?” his out of breath voice was raspy and profound, he was turn on.
“No, I came here looking for a book as the rest of the people here, this is a library not a motel” you pretend to keep searching even when you knew the book wasn’t there, just to not look at him.
“Oh, wouldn’t it be this book the one you want?” the irony leaking on his voice made you turn around and watch his hand wave a small book, it was indeed The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm.
“Give it to me!” you shouted almost forgetting you were in  a library and someone staring at you with disgust.
“Oh, you want this?” and he shove the book underneath his white buttoned shirt “Sorry, you will have to look for it” the blonde girl laughed at you and Jimin remembered she was there; it always pissed him off how he forgets about other women easily when you are near, it makes his blood burn. You shouldn’t have that much power and being unconscious about it. 
“Get out.” he said to the blonde one, and she widened  her eyes in  surprise “I said get out.” and he pushed her away, he didn’t even let her utter a word while  he was picking  her backpack from the floor and throwing  it to her. 
She ran out of the library and you followed her with your eyes until she disappeared because you were as confused as her; maybe Jimin was indeed a mentally unstable person, you had no other explanation for his abrupt mood swings. 
He stared at you in silence, fascinated with your legs showing off down the uniform skirt in your kneeled position. He walked towards you, grabbing your chin roughly with his fingers. 
"Didn't you wish it was you in  her place?" He speaks, his breathy voice crashing with your face and he smelled like cigarettes and coca-cola "Didn't you want to be praised by me instead of bullied?" 
"I'd rather be your victim than your friend, you're disgusting Jimin, I would do whatever it takes to free myself from you" you spat and before you could add how much you hated him because he grabs you by the neck and forces his mouth on  yours. You protest, your hands on his chest trying to push him away but he's bigger. 
"Whatever it takes, uh?" He repeated, his lips moving above yours, the tip of his nose touching your cupid's arch and his eyes fixated in yours, "so will you be my slave?" 
"You're sick" you responded, trying to push him away, but the harder you tried the strongest his hold was. "I can't believe there's people who genuinely like you"
"You make me sick, one glance at you and I want to throw up"
“Why did you kiss me then? Why don’t you leave me alone?”
“Because I love charity” he smiled, actually finding his own joke funny  "I'm making you a favor just by looking you right in the eye." 
"You are the one who's salivating every time you look at me, Jimin, I'm starting to feel you're in love with me" the voice of the two was starting to get loud, and neither of you noticed when the librarian appears in the hallway. 
"The two of you, I must pleat you to keep the sound low if necessary for you to keep talking, this is a library not the school yard, you can't be shouting in here" the librarian looked at the two of you with stress, and when she notices that it was Jimin himself, her face features softens. 
"Mrs. Chester, he has the book that I reserved for this week, and I need it to finish my essay, I reserved it last week" you defend yourself. 
"Mrs. Chester, I believe we can make an exception per se, and share the book since I need it as well, I'm pretty sure you will understand and any complain about this incident can be notified with my father" he spoke to her with that petulant tone he loved to use, and the old woman opened her eyes impressed at his subtle warning. 
"Miss ___ and I got the book issue covered" he continued. 
"Okay, I'll leave it to you then, keep the tone low" and she walked faster to her place again. 
"Give me the book" you said once again in between your teeth.
"You said 'whatever it takes' and we are about to see how far you're willing to go to set yourself free from me, meet me at the lab at four" and he picked his backpack from the floor and leave you in the library's hallway, scared and hesitant. 
Jimin’s pulse was out of control, on the outside he might seemed relax and nonchalant, as he usually was, but if you paid attention to him you could notice his right hand shaking with need. The same hand that grabbed your chin and pulled your neck closer to him. He was shaking nervously like a virgin, his body excited and hard with the pure action of connecting his lips together. 
The whole morning he kept looking at the clock, wishing the hands would point at four magically. When his last class was over, he picked his stuff ignoring his group of friends speak to him and rushed to the lab. 
You weren’t there, but he would give you time, a couple of minutes, a couple of hours, all the time you needed. He knew you wanted the book and that you also wouldn’t turn down a good fight with him. Hopefully he didn’t wait too long before you and your red aura appeared in front of him, stealing a smirk from his face. 
You hated when Jimin smiled, if God was on your side he would have made him ugly, but the heavens saw in you a victim as well and made him awfully pretty. 
“You came” he spitted trying to hide how happy he was. 
“You have the book, what else could I do?” and you dropped your backpack to the floor, sitting on the first seat of the lab. He was leaning on the teacher’s desk, standing. He stared at you for a while, that day you were wearing a red beret and cherry earrings; sometimes he hated himself for harming such a cute thing like you. 
“What do you want?” you asked exhausted under his scrutiny. 
“How was your date?” he asked, and you frowned confused, why would he be asking that? “You know, the date you told me you had yeste…”
“Yes, I know what date you’re talking about, but why would you ask about that?” 
“Because I want to know.” 
“Why?”
“I want to know who’s my little mouse’s new friend” there it was, the evil glint in  his eyes made its entrance and somehow you felt scared that he found out it was Taehyung. Jimin was volatile and extreme, and you regretted the idea of ever coming, he can keep  the book you could try to replace it with another one. 
“You know what? this is bullshit, you can keep the book” you bended to pick your backpack from the floor but he was faster and he took it away from you, you jump to him trying to reach his extended arm where he had your bag “Give me that! Give me my stuff!”
“Give me a kiss” his voice was raspy, and with every little jump you did his nose was flooded with your smell. Cherry blossom and lemon. 
“You’re sick, Jimin, I won’t give you shit”
“First of all, you already told me that and second, you already gave me that. I’m just asking for another” he laughed at your piss expression, so out of your boxes, so his. You tried to jump over him once more, but you tripped over the desk, falling above him. He catches you by grabbing you by the hips and when you hurried to get off him, he captures you left arm. 
You moaned in pain, the bruise in your forearm still new palpitated when Jimin hold you there and he notice something was wrong underneath the uniform’s shirt. He rolled up your shirt’s sleeve and saw the yellow and purple spot on your skin. It could have been that you fall off or tripped, but it had the shape of a hand. 
“What happened to you?” he asked, his amusement was gone and it was replaced with… Concern? Anger? Great, you must be experiencing head trauma because you were starting to get delusional.
“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m starting to get tired of people asking me what happened when it’s obvious” you pulled your arm away from his hand, rolling your sleeve back. 
“You’re lying, tell me who did that” he demanded, and you laughed outraged, how dared he? 
“Who did this? You’re asking who did this?” He swallowed when he saw your tired and ironic face, a mix of bitterness and exhaustion that didn’t belong to your sweet features. “Your friends!” you shouted while pointing at him, shaming on him “Your gang of sadistic dogs did this to me! How dare you to ask me as if they don’t act according to your orders?”
“I never told them to hurt you” he stated and for the first time his voice wasn’t sarcastic or mocking, it was simply neutral and serious “I’ve never harmed you physically, I never told them to-“
“You don’t have to, Jimin, when you’re not around they chase me and torture me just because you hate me, the whole school knows it, even the teachers. It’s implicit that they hit me and push me because of you” you let it all out, shouting to him with all your strength, breathing heavily after you’re done and adding “So, if you have a little bit of human decency, you will not ask me obvious questions.”
“Was it Chanwook?” he gave you your backpack and you snatched it from his hands. 
Your silence was his answer. 
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Chanwook’s nose bleed and splashed on Jimin’s uniform jacket. 
“Who asked you to hurt her like that?” Jimin shouted in  his ear, the parking where  he made his friend go was empty, no witnesses around.
“I thought- I thought you would find it funny” he said breathless, his hands trying to crawl away from Jimin’s fist, but the asphalt scraped his palms and Jimin’s expensive boot kicked him on the stomach, feeling his ribs crack.
“I checked her medical record, her five-day inability wasn’t because she fell, was it?” he grabbed Chanwook’s head by his hair, pulling it harshly like Chanwook himself had done many times with your hair.
“Is not a big deal, dude. You were the one who started it all, we just followed you.” 
“What did you do to her?” and Jimin’s foot connected again to his knee. 
“I- I pushed…” Chanwook couldn’t talk, the pain making him howl. 
“What did you do?!” Jimin shouted very close to his ear, losing his patience, his hand getting more intense on his hair.
“I pushed her head to a locker twice, I wanted to see how many times she could take it until she passed out.” 
Jimin saw red. The blood of his eyes expanding on his sight and his sadistic side came out. He pushed Chanwook’s head to his car door twice, but he didn’t pass out. 
“I like this game too, we are going to see how many time you can take it until you pass” Jimin hit his head three more times, but apparently the head of that scumbag was made of titanium cause when he dropped him,  the fucker could still walk. Slow and dizzy, but his shivering knees  made him stand up. 
“Why did you do it?” Jimin asked, lighting up a cigarette and taking off his jacket. He had his sleeves rolled up, and your red ribbon showed on his wrist making him smile “Why would you hurt her like that?” 
“For the same reason as you.” Chanwook answered and Jimin froze “Because I want her.” 
“You want her.” He repeated, the fury accumulating on his burning chest and his butchered knuckles. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Chanwook knew Jimin was pissed already, so if he was already fried, why wouldn’t he break it to him? He couldn’t hurt him more. 
“Sorry for being the one telling you, but your mouse has a nice pair of legs, I like to harm her and then I go to jerk-“ Chanwook couldn’t end the sentence because Jimin was tackling him, pushing down to the floor again. His fist went down to his face repeatedly. When Jimin stood  after getting tired, he made sure Chanwook was still breathing. He was, unfortunately.
“It’s little mouse, idiot.” 
He called the police anonymously, saying there was a student being attacked on the parking lot. Jimin took out his belongings to make it seem like an assault and knelt before leaving the place to warn his friend. 
“You will leave the school, get transfer, drop out of high school I don’t care, but if I see you tomorrow morning there you will suffer. You will say people attacked you and stole from you, not a word of this. And if I see you near her, if you dare to talk to her, to breath in her direction, I will come for you just like I have done for everybody who ever disobeyed me, do you understand?”
Chan’s swollen face couldn’t articulate a word, Jimin rolled his eyes to the disgusting scene. 
“Blink if you heard me and understand.” 
Chan blinked, and Jimin stand, ready to walk to his car, murmuring to himself “Why do people mess with what is mine?” 
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The reunion you had with Jimin a couple of days ago left you anxious and uneasy, especially because you haven’t seen Chanwook and the others haven’t mess with you. You walked down the hallway and got to your locker and when you unlocked the door you find a brand-new copy of The Art of Loving, a red gift bow and a card adorning the edition.
No God, please. Don’t let it be from Jimin. 
You opened the card and read on his unmatched calligraphy.
“ ‘Is love an art? Then it requires knowledge and effort’. I will put effort, little mouse, and show you how artistic I can be. Jimin.” 
You were disgusted with his silly words. Was this a prank? It must be, three days ago Jimin was making fun of you because the shirt was too tight to your breasts and he could see the line of your bra, his friends also pointing at the softness of your flesh. 
You didn’t need the book anyways, you bought it on E-book and your essay was almost finish so you threw  it in the garbage, pretending that incident didn’t happened and moving on to your next class. You were unaware that from the other side of the hallway, near to the cleaning closet Jimin was watching you. Confused and sad with the scene of you hating his gift.
Why did you throw it away? 
The rest of the week was awfully peaceful for you. There was no sign of Chan, and Meeyon and the other idiot stopped messing with you. When they would saw you in  the hallways or the yard, they would walk away as if you were infected with something dangerous and contagious. They would not even look in  your direction. You were afraid they were gathering strength to finally come for you and beat you really hard. 
Jimin on the other hand was losing his mind. He has been watching you from afar, and he notices that the shiny gleam that you had in your eyes  was coming back , and he wasn’t the reason for it. He followed you after classes for almost a week, and he didn’t see any  trace of this alleged date guy you told him. 
He was starting to think you came up with it to make him mad, to catch his attention because you craved him as much as he craved you. He was about to leave the coffee shop where you were reading, when a guy appeared next to you and you stood up and greeted him with a kiss. 
A kiss. The kiss you didn’t wanted to give to him. 
His jaw clenched and his fist gripped  his car’s steering wheel controlling his anger. So You were not lying, you had someone indeed. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see who he  was, and then he gets a glimpse of his eyes and recognizes  him, it was a shy boy that always sat at the end of the class, the last seat. What was his name? Taesoo? Taejoon? 
Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.
He watched the two of you a little longer, seeing how you were calm and sweet with him. Punching him in the arm playfully, laughing, covering your mouth when he said something funny, sharing a damn slice of cake.  Cherry cake.  
The next day he decided he would do what he did better. Intimidate you, extorting you.
He stood next to your locker, his backpack to the side and arms crossed on his chest. You appeared on the hallway with a strawberry scarf on  your head and heart shaped earrings, a necklace matching your already annoying and stunning appearance.
“What do you want, Jimin?” you asked bothered with only his  presence near you.
The truth with you was that you knew what was going on between you and him, his incessant tease, his subtle flirtation and his fixation with you. Deep down you prayed your intuition was wrong because if you could ignore his horrible personality and sadistic tendencies, you would be on your knees for Park Jimin.
Thankfully, you still were a reasonable and logic person, you could not ignore his flaws, and you truly felt disgusted and resentment every time you saw him.
“I just wanted to check on my little mouse, how’s your day been ?”
“It was all good, until you came and now it’s ruined” you responded, not even looking at him. You unlocked  your locker and took your books out.
“Glad to hear that, no one has the right to ruin your day but me” he smiled discreetly “Have Meeyon and Junghae mess with you?”
You looked at him, briefly, surprised he was interested in your well-being.
“No, they haven’t, why?”
“Good.”
“Why?” you insisted “Did you tell them something?”
“I told them to stop, they won't even touch a single strand of your hair” his eyes turned darker and narrowed, and your heartbeat raise to the perspective and the rare sensation of Jimin being… Protective?
“Thank you.” You couldn’t believe your words, thanking your abuser for doing the bare minimum, but not having those three around lifted a weight from your shoulders and made your days lighter “What happened with Chan...”
“You will not worry about him anymore; he got what he deserved.”
“What do you mean?” your voice shaked anxiously.
“You won’t see him again.” Jimin smiled satisfied.
“What did you do to him?” you weren’t sorry for whatever happened to Chanwook, he was a despicable human being who liked and enjoyed pain from others, but you were not rejoicing on the fact he could have been harmed because of you.
“Nothing he didn’t do to you. Don’t worry sweetheart, he got transferred, he will be fine” you didn’t like how Jimin’s voice was to mellow, as if you trusted on each other “Speaking of be fine, why don’t you come to my house this evening and work on your essay, I still have the book…”
“I can’t, I have plans already” you cut him, cursing your luck.
“With that Taehyung asshole?” he pushed close your locker door, the sound of metal whipping down the hall, drawing attention.
“Who-?”
“I’ve done my research, all the people who are friends of my little mouse are also my friends.” His face was tainted with craziness and obsession, two things you evoked deeply in Jimin.
“Don’t hurt him.” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth.
“I won’t” he leaned closer to your lips  “I won’t, unless you don’t do something for me” his lowered chest voice was velvety against your ear skin “Met me at the lab at four, don’t be late little mouse.”
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✔︎ TAGLIST: @tae-v-eat @whipwhoops @bunnyca @itachiswaify @sheylamc @samuelfortniteking @rkivewritersblog @mred435 @kthyg @jiminiemochisexybabe (my first taglist, i'm so excited 🤩)
✔︎ thvlouvre's p.s. yes, i couldn't write this without a "who hurt you?" cliché scene . you may already know this, but english isn't my first language, so be kind and understand, take care and stream Park Jimin 💋
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padfootagain · 3 months
Text
The Car Trap
Hi!!!!! Here I am again, back to my old antics! Yes, I’m adding one more person to my masterlist. Yes, I am going to hell for this, and you know what? I’ll have such a great time!
Anyway, no one asked for this, except for me, as I was desperate for some Hozier fics, and couldn’t find any new ones anymore! So, here we go! Hope you like this, let me know what you think!
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Pairing: Hozier x reader
Warnings: Angst, fluff, angst to fluff! Friends to lovers, snowed-in… in a car… *hihihihihihhi!!!*
Summary: You're offered a job in Switzerland, and you're ready to accept it. It would offer you a new beginning, a way to forget about the love you have for your best friend. But a trip through a snowstorm with Andrew might change everything...
Word Count: 7282
Hozier’s Masterlist - Main Masterlist
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This trip was a disaster.
A fucking, outrageously terrible disaster…
The weather was terrible, for a start. And that was a statement made with an Irish reference, which was saying a lot. It had been raining so hard you had to stop the car for a while as you could not see the road ahead at all. Then it was time for so much wind that your fingers were cramping over the strength used to hold the wheel. Four hours later, it was getting dark, the sun already setting and the sky heavy with clouds that blocked all sunlight. And it was snowing.
Fucking snowing.
Great. Wonderful. Lovely.
Oh, but if only the problem was held by the capricious weather… no… no, this was but a part of the issue. You could even say that this was the top of the iceberg, just a tiny fraction of the shit you were buried under.
Because your phone had died. But then again, you had no signal anyway to get the help of a friendly and absolutely annoying GPS; and in the passenger seat by your side, your best friend was struggling with a fifteen-year old map that was so out-of-date that it might as well have not existed for the help it got you…
You were lost. You were fucking lost, in the middle of nowhere, while it was getting dark and snowing and there was nothing manmade in sight to ask for help.
Wonderful. Truly, wonderful.
Oh, and that was without mentioning that the best friend in question was also the man you had been in love with for years but had never dared confess your feelings to.
Outrageously bad, that road trip, really…
Andrew picked up his phone to get some more light, his glasses perched haphazardly on his nose as he tried to decipher names printed on the large map splayed across his laps; hair held back in a low bun, allowing you to see his focused features.
“So?”
He merely hummed in response, a long finger following a dark line.
“Do you have any idea where we are?” you insisted.
“None whatsoever,” he shook his head.
He sat back in his seat, before rubbing his eyes.
“I mean… we’ll end up crossing a village at one point if we keep going along this road,” he sighed. “I don’t have a better plan for now.”
“We might have to stop at one point, though. The snow is getting heavy.”
“I had never envisioned dying from the cold in the middle of nowhere on some random Irish road…” Andrew joked, his tone almost contemplative, and you couldn’t refrain a chuckle.
“And with you! Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m dying with you, of all people.”
“Why not? You don’t want to see me dying?”
“I don’t want my last moments to be shared with someone as annoying as you.”
He tried to throw back some witty remark, but his laughter was too much to handle.
He had pushed back the seat as far as possible, of course, in an attempt to accommodate his long limbs, but even in this position, his legs were not fully extended before him, his knees hitting the dashboard at every bump of the road.
You forced your gaze to go back to the road again, squinting your eyes to see through the heavy snow that fell now, instead of lingering on his legs.
God… you were so damn ridiculous…
His quiet rumble of a laugh finally died out, but a smile remained set on his features, even though his tone was serious as he spoke again.
“We can still turn the engines on every once in a while to get some heat.”
“Won’t that drain the battery or something?”
“If we don’t do it too much, it should be fine. Besides, it’s not minus twenty outside, relax. We’ll be fine.”
You merely nodded, falling, as always, for the safety in his quiet voice and the warmth of his tone.
Besides, it was easier to believe in the certainty of his voice, in its soothing sound, than to face the snow falling more and more heavily outside, the night creeping over the distant mountains, right beyond the green fields. Their silhouettes were almost made invisible now by the low light, you could only guess their shadows. Despite the headlights, you could barely make out the stony walls on each side of the road, mostly devoured by ivy and thickets. You had slowed down your pace, driving slowly in fear that a wild animal would suddenly jump in front the car, or that you would miss a random house set by the road.
It was also easier to focus on the silly story he was using to quieten your mind rather than to mention the reason behind this trip across the countryside.
You were leaving.
You were leaving Ireland to settle in Switzerland for a job. Or well, nothing was fixed for now, but you had an amazing opportunity. A first trip to the country to meet your future boss in person was planned for the following week, and at the end of these three days spent in Geneva, you had to sign your contract. You would then have about a month to find a place and move there.
So, you and your best friend had decided to enjoy a little road trip together. Driving all the way to the other side of the country. Staying at an Airbnb near the western coast. Enjoying four days together spent by the sea, the cliffs, and an awful lot of chips and beer.
You had been puzzled by Andrew’s reaction when you told him about your new job. He had seemed… unphased by it.
Of course, with his career, he was often away, and you were used not to live close to each other for long periods of time. Still, you were always one of the first people he visited whenever he was home. And while he stayed in Ireland, you spent most of your time together. As if he wanted to soak in as many moments as he could before he would leave again. And yet, when you told him that you would move to another country, he didn’t even blink. He gave you a smile, congratulated you, offered you a warm hug, and that was it. He asked about the job, about the place where you would live… and that was it. No disappointment in the thought of you leaving. No sadness at the thought of not having you around. No heartbreak whatsoever…
But then again, you were a fool for hoping that he would feel this way. Because he was… Andrew. Absolutely-lovely, amazing-hair, siren-voiced, hilariously-witty, unbearably-gentle Andrew. You had been friendzoned a few weeks after your first encounter, and you had no reason to believe that his feelings had changed. Actually, this new job, you took it as an opportunity to forget him. Move on. And not only because many miles would separate your homes, but because you weren’t leaving on your own.
Another one of your colleagues, Tom, had been approached by the same company as you had. He had already accepted the offer, and he was thrilled when he learned that you were leaving for Geneva as well. You knew he had a crush on you. He was pretty obvious about it. If he had never crossed a line, it was clear that he wanted you to give him a chance. And who knew? Perhaps this new beginning, with another man that you quite frankly found great, could mean you finally moving on from your stupid crush on your best friend. A new start, in another country. After spending a few weeks getting used to this new place, this new corporation, this new workplace… perhaps you would give Tom a chance. You desperately needed to forget Andrew, after all…
Of course, you didn’t know that you were completely, utterly wrong… about everything. That Andrew wanted to cry at the mere thought of you leaving. That he held you too tight and for too long that afternoon when, bathed in the neon light of your kitchen, you told him you were moving so far away from him, because he didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes. He didn’t have the right to hold you back. He was but a friend to you, and friends needed to be supportive, and this was such a great opportunity for you, and… and he was only your friend.
Only your goddamn friend. As if Andrew hadn’t longed to be much more than that after a mere week spent in your company. But you had met before he would leave, touring for his second album, the timing was all wrong. He couldn’t ask you out for a couple of dates just to get you attached to him, before he would disappear for months on the other side of the planet. That wasn’t fair. He wanted to do things the right way. So, he kept his distance at first, unwilling to get too attached himself. But then, when he came home months later… you weren’t single anymore.
The fool… he had lost his chance. And over the years, the two of you had built such a great friendship that he didn’t want to take the risk anymore. Besides, he was certain that you didn’t see him this way. You had been in relationships, he had been in relationships… you had never showed any sign that would make him feel that he was more than a friend to you. Even when he tried to get you jealous, at the beginning, right after your break-up… but it didn’t work. The lure fell into the water in a deafening defeat, and he had made up both his mind and heart. You weren’t interested. He didn’t blame you. With his chaotic lifestyle.. who in their mind would settle for that?
Did it stop Andrew from still being in love with you, even after all this time? No, of course it did not. And the thought that you wouldn’t be home with him anymore…
He looked away, through the window, just to hide the tears that rose to his eyes all over again. He rested his elbow against the cold window, his lips to the back of his hand, biting lightly in the skin to calm down. He had no right to try to hold you back… no right at all… Was it your fault if he was enough of a fool to fall for his best friend? The cliché was almost too much to bear…
When he turned to you again, though, he couldn’t help the warm, fond feeling that invaded his chest at the sight of you. During the moment of silence you were both bathing into, disturbed solely by the wind and the tires over the frozen road, the night had almost conquered the last remnants of sunlight that lingered there, held against the eastern riff of the mountains. The headlights and the dim lights coming from the headboard were enough for him to see your features, though. They were enough for him to long to brush that strand of hair behind your ear, to lean across the car to kiss your cheek, to feel the warmth of your skin, even if for just a second, against his lips…
God, he didn’t want you to leave. What would he do if you left? When would you see each other? Never… If he spent so much time touring and you weren’t home…
God, he would move to Geneva with you if you asked. Even if it were to keep him as a mere friend, that was how badly he needed you in his life…
“Andy… I’m not sure I should keep driving…”
Andrew shook himself out of his thoughts, forced his attention back to the road ahead. You could barely see the road at all, as it was slowly turning white, just like the patches of grass between the road and the low walls…
Andrew shook his head.
“We can’t just stop in the middle of the road either. Just… drive slowly. Let’s try to find somewhere to park.”
You nodded, frowning in your focus.
You kept on driving for a while longer. The night was stark black when you finally found a small space by the road where you could safely park. There was still no house in sight, though… not that you could have seen anything beyond a five meters radius anyway…
You turned off the engine, let the lights go dark. Andrew turned on the light of his phone again.
“You should save some battery,” you argued.
“Got plenty, don’t worry.”
“So… now, what?”
“Now, we wait.”
“And if it keeps on snowing all night? Should we try to get some sleep?”
He merely nodded, setting his phone between the two of you to shed some light all over the tiny space of your car. Andrew reached behind him to get your coats from the backseat.
“We should put these on while they’re still warm.”
You didn’t complain when Andrew unfolded your warm coat, holding it up so you could easily slip your arms inside; nor did you stop him when he straightened it around your frame, reached for the zipper, and closed it for you.
And perhaps it would have been wiser for you to do so… but then again, you were human.
You were still trying to regulate your heartbeat while Andrew was putting on his own coat.
And for the first half-hour, everything was easy. You turned the engines back on for a few minutes when it got too cold, but in such a weather, you were worried your car wouldn’t start with a low battery. After all, it wasn’t exactly brand new.
“What if we get stuck in here?” you asked, worrying about the snow that didn’t give any sign of stopping.
“We’ll freeze to death, probably. At least the cold will preserve our bodies.”
“Good news for the police officer who’s gonna open the door. The smell won’t be too bad.”
“Exactly.”
“How long do you think before they find us?”
“Oh… at least a few weeks, if it snows enough.”
“Don’t you think anyone would notice a car covered in snow by the side of the road?”
“Not if there’s enough snow on it.”
You were the first to break, unable to be serious any longer. And Andrew’s laugh soon found yours, a deep rumble shaking the air around you.
“We won’t get fully snowed in,” Andrew reassured you as your laughter receded, in favour of the hushed quiet of winter. “Don’t worry. Besides, we’re not going to stay here all night. We’ll just wait until the worst of the storm passes. I can drive the rest of the way, if you want.”
“I can keep driving. I think I’ll try to take a nap while we wait though. I need to focus.”
Andrew merely nodded as an answer, adding a soft humming for good measure, before he would offer you a warm smile. He reached for something in his pocket, and put on a beanie and some gloves.
“I’ll keep an eye out,” he added, shifting to get more comfortable, the seatbelt since long discarded.
You tried to do the same, sliding the seat back to get more room to move around. Your eyes settled on Andrew’s features one more time before they closed.
But there was no way you could fall asleep. Beside your troubled mind, you were getting uncomfortably cold again. Enough for your teeth to chatter for a moment, until you tightly set your jaw.
You felt warm skin brush the back of your freezing fingers, heard the low, unapproving humming that Andrew let out at the touch.
“Take these, Y/N.”
You blinked your eyes open, while Andrew was already pushing a glove into your palm.
“You’ll be cold,” you argued, but you were met with a fond glare.
“You are cold.”
You gave up, took the gloves he offered. So large around your hands, the wool soft and still holding the warmth born from his own skin. You tried to stop him from planting his beanie on your head too, but failed.
“You need to stay warm! You’re a singer! You can’t catch a cold!” you tried to argue, but Andrew was already pulling the wool down to cover your ears.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine. Besides, you’re the one who’s always cold.”
“Am not!”
“Are too! Who wears a woollen scarf in June?”
“It was cold!”
“You could turn into an ice cube if left unattended.”
With a great sense of maturity, you stuck out the tip of your tongue, making him chuckle.
It was better, but you were still cold, and so was Andrew now. He was shaking slightly, rubbing his hands together, burying his mouth and nose in his woollen grey scarf to warm it with his breath. But when he tried to shed some light outside again, the snow was still too heavy to drive safely.
“I can’t feel my fucking toes,” he complained, but there wasn’t much that you could do.
Except that you could. It was stupid, probably ineffective, but you were too cold to think straight.
“What if we hugged?”
Andrew let out a laugh.
“I like the sentiment, but that would hardly warm my toes.”
“Isn’t sharing body warmth a surviving technique?”
“Do I look like I would survive in the wild?”
“No, you would either bump your head in a branch so hard you’d knock yourself out to fall right into an endless pit… or you would be spotted by lions from miles away, you and your long limbs…”
“Exactly.”
There was silence again, for a couple of minutes, and you didn’t dare to break it. Instead, you let your eyelids fall again. He had refused to hold you, it was speaking volumes. What if you had made him uncomfortable? What were you expecting anyway? You were just a friend…
A gentle tug on your sleeve made you look up at him.
“Come here.”
“What?”
“We’re both cold, come here. You’re right, body heat sounds like a good idea.”
You joked in an attempt to hide the way your heart jumped in your chest.
“We both know you simply like to be held. Even by me.”
“Anything if I can avoid losing my toes.”
You wished you could claim that the manoeuvre that led you to lie with Andrew was a graceful one, but it truly wasn’t. After bumping into every surface possible and hitting your head against the ceiling twice, you were, however, finally secured in Andrew’s arms.
You moved around a little, trying to get comfortable, but in the tiny space of the passenger seat, there was nowhere for you to lay but on top of him.
If your nerves were getting the better of you at first, you couldn’t help but unwind as Andrew wrapped his arms around your frame, engulfing you within his embrace, pressing you closer to him, even though it didn’t seem possible.
He closed his eyes as he breathed in the sweet scent of your shampoo, but you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice either the way his heart sped up under his ribs, the way his breath caught in his throat. You never seemed to notice. Andrew reckoned that he was pretty obvious, although he did try to hide it all, but you never noticed anything. He couldn’t hide it, though. Even if this would lead nowhere, even if he didn’t stand a chance, he couldn’t help it. Loving you. In all the years he had known you, he had never been able to help it. Perhaps that was what love was all about. Loving beyond reason. Loving even when he wished he didn’t. Loving, and hurting, and having no regrets about it. Hurting, and being willing to go through all this pain all over again, for just a moment more…
He heaved a sigh without noticing, his eyelids lifting to be faced by a wall of darkness spotted with white snowflakes. He was ridiculous. You were leaving, that was the final proof he needed to be certain that he was nothing but a friend to you. If you felt anything for him, you wouldn’t be leaving… right? He had not left. He could have moved to the US a thousand times over, but you were in Ireland. Of course, you weren’t the only reason for him to stay, but you were easily the most important one, the one that carried the most weight.
What was the point of going home after a tour or a long recording session, if home wasn’t where you were?
Pathetic. That was what he was, pathetic…
Besides, you deserved better than what he could offer. Waiting for him for months on end? A constant back-and-forth between nations, a life stuck in a suitcase? No… no, you deserved better than that. Better than what he could offer you. Better than him…
And you were leaving. Final proof…
He held you tighter, and almost released it all in a breath.
Don’t go. Please, don’t go…
“Andy?”
He merely hummed in response.
“I’m pretty sure this is doing nothing to keep us warm.”
“I think it helps.”
“We’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Are you offering a game of strip-poker or something?”
You didn’t look up at him, face still buried in his shoulder, and yet he knew you were rolling your eyes.
“I must be crushing you.”
“You’re breaking all my bones, indeed.”
You tried to move away, but his hold tightened, and he looked down at you with confusion.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving your life? Avoiding you to be crushed to death?”
“I was joking. I’m alright.”
“Really?”
“Yeah… yeah, that’s… nice.”
You weren’t sure what to make of such comment, so you remained quiet instead, breathing deeply his scent, feeling it numb your senses.
“I’ve never seen such a snowstorm,” he pointed out, gaze lost into the darkness ahead.
“Me neither.”
“Not in this part of the world, at least.”
“Typical of Ireland to send me the storm of the century as a farewell gift.”
You felt Andrew tensing under you, his voice was colder than usual as he spoke, but you weren’t sure what to make of it.
“When will you leave? For good, I mean.”
“I have a month after this short stay to find myself a place to rent and get to work.”
“But you’ll come back to visit, right?”
“Yeah, of course! I mean… when I’m on vacation. To see my family.”
“Will I get some free housing in Geneva, then?”
“You thief, as usual.”
“You know me. Always the rascal.”
You closed your eyes as he started to rub your back, the gesture gentle and amazingly soothing.
“Aren’t you afraid to go there on your own?”
“Yeah… yeah, a little bit,” you admitted in a breath. “But… at least Tom will be there.”
“Tom?”
“Yeah, you know? My colleague? He’s very nice, I like him a lot. We’re leaving together.”
His tall frame tensed again, you caught the way his breath staggered.
“What do you mean Tom is leaving too?”
You stared into his hazel eyes; these eyes you dreamt of at night, the ones you adored. They had taken the hue of leaves before Autumn, deep green in a ray of sunshine. They always did when tears came to his eyes. And indeed, you were surprised as you fell into his gaze to find it blurred with tears.
“You… you’re leaving with him?” he asked, voice deeper than usual, shaky, vulnerable.
You were aware, now more than ever, of how close you were. You stared up at him, lost in his eyes, and you thought of how it would be so easy to lean up and kiss him, make his frown melt away, shush his worry with your lips…
“I thought… why…?”
You shrugged, unsure of what he meant to say.
“We’ve been approached by the same company. We’ll both move to Geneva.”
“Together?!”
“I mean… at the same time, yes.”
“But you’re…”
So that was it then… you had found someone else again. And this time you were leaving in another country with this man and…
And Andrew had lost you for good.
He was only too aware of how close the two of you were, of how easy it would have been to simply lean down to kiss you. Press his lips to yours, forget you were choosing someone else…
But he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t take it.
Instead of leaning closer, he pushed you away.
“Get off.”
You frowned at the roughness in his voice, the coldness in his tone, and Andrew wished he could control himself, be gentle, the way you deserved, but he needed to get away if he wanted to keep breathing…
“Please, get off me.”
You blinked tears away, and he hated himself for being the cause of such a sight, but he didn’t stop you when you ungracefully pushed yourself back into the driver’s seat. And Andrew watched as you stared at him, expectant, like you didn’t understand that you were breaking his heart in a million pieces…
And he couldn’t take it.
You were so surprised when Andrew opened the door and climbed out of the car that you didn’t stop him. He was already out of sight when you shook yourself enough to grab his phone, the only source of light available, and jumped out of the car as well.
The wind was bitterly cold as it assailed your cheeks, the snow rough and sharp digging into your skin.
“ANDREW!”
You hurried around the car, struggling with the slippery ground.
Above the wind, there was nothing to be heard but your own voice. Betrayed by the night, even this sound seemed to fade too fast to reach anything out of your sight. And Andrew was nowhere to be seen, the darkness too thick for that, the elements howling too loudly.
“ANDREW!”
A thud. A groan. A hiss. You followed the sounds in a hurry, and sure enough, mere seconds were needed to find your friend half-lying in the snow, a hand gripping at the low stone wall.
“ANDY!”
You kneeled by his side, uncaring of the sharp sting of the frozen ground under your knees.
“Are you alright?”
But he nodded, without a word. He seemed in pain, you brushed a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, and he leaned into your touch without noticing.
“You’re okay? What the fuck are you doing?!”
“You’re leaving for him, right?”
“What on earth are you talking about?!”
“TOM! FUCKING TOM!”
He moved away from your touch, but winced as he leaned against the wall. Your eyes grew round in worry, and when you turned the light towards the stones, there were traces of blood there.
“Oh God… Andy, you’re hurt!”
“It’s nothing,” he shook his head.
“Let me see…”
But he stood up instead, and you followed close. He was towering you, the way he always did. The difference in height had not been so obvious in the car, but now, he was standing before you in his full, impressive height, and the way he glared made it more intimidating than usual.
“You’re really leaving for a fucking guy you met at work?!”
You frowned, shaking your head.
“Andy, I’m not…”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”
“Andy…”
“For how long have you two even been together?”
“We’re not! We’re not together.”
It was his time to frown in confusion.
“What?”
“Tom and I, we’re not together. We’ve been approached by the same company, that’s all. Although, if I’m being honest… I might give him a chance.”
“What?”
You noticed how he was out of breath, of course you did. He didn’t seem angry anymore, just…sad. Unbearably sad…
“Well, he’s nice… and… I know he likes me. But… can we go back to the car now?”
“Don’t go with him.”
You stared up at him, his hair messed by the wind as more strands were breaking free from his bun. Snowflakes stained the dark locks with white. Some got caught in his long eyelashes. The biting cold was turning his sharp cheekbones red. In the dim light, you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, even though you could see the lips moving with the vowels, closing with consonants…
“Don’t go. Y/N… don’t go.”
These were words you were longing to hear, and yet, now that he was finally speaking them out loud, you couldn’t take them in.
He had acted like he didn’t care for weeks, and now, all of a sudden, he claimed that he was hurting?
“That’s rich coming from someone who spends barely any time home.”
You knew you were being mean, and you felt guilty as a shock of pain ran through Andrew’s features, enough so to bring tears back in his eyes. Still, you didn’t take your words back.
“That’s not the same. This… this is still my home.”
“This is a great opportunity for my career. This would be a new start. I’m excited about it. And Tom is nice. He likes me. He wants me…”
“You’re saying that like you don’t have a family and friends and people who love you already.”
“You know what I mean. This is a great opportunity, Andy. I want to take it.”
You noticed the way he clenched his jaw, the way the muscle jumped there as he lowered his gaze to the ground, nodding slowly.
“You’re right… that’s a great opportunity. You should take it…”
But instead of you agreeing, he was surprised as you huffed in annoyance, and turned your back to him.
“Get your arse back in the car, come on.”
“Y/N…”
“I don’t understand what you want, Andy!” you hissed as you turned back to him, and he hated the sharpness in your voice, it felt like a knife. “You act like you don’t give two fucks about me leaving for weeks! And now… now you’re acting like you want me to stay…!”
“Of course, I want you to stay! But I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be here for you, and to support you and encourage you…”
“So you’re glad that I’m leaving?” your voice rising into a shout, and his tone matched yours when he answered, making you tremble under his deep, powerful voice.
“Of course not! Are you listening to yourself?! Why would I want you to move to fucking Geneva!”
“Because you didn’t say a thing about it!” you were crying, but you didn’t even notice, too busy letting your feelings out, at long last. “Because everyone else tried to convince me to stay, and you didn’t!”
“I tried to be supportive!”
“Well, I didn’t want you to supportive!”
“What did you want then?!”
“The truth!”
“Well, I don’t want you to leave! Here’s your fucking truth! And I don’t want you to leave with fucking Tom! I want you to choose me!”
He was out of breath now, and as he moved closer to you and the light you still held tightly in your hand, you finally noticed that he was crying as well.
“Choose you?” you asked, confused and slightly calmer, even if your voice kept on shaking. “Why would you want me to choose you…?”
“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”
The words were out before he could hold them in; failing this time at this game he had played a thousand times before, every time the words almost slipped out, when he bit his tongue until it hurt so you wouldn’t hear his heart. Your eyes grew round like you were surprised, shocked even, like this was not the most obvious truth in the world, like he had not spent years loving you in secret, leaving traces of his bleeding heart all over the place…
He almost wanted to laugh at you, at your round eyes and parted lips and all that snow caught in your hair and the way he longed to kiss that shock off your face. He didn’t though. Because you took a step back, and he read fear in your eyes, and he realised then that you were slipping away, sand between his fingers although he tried to hold tight.
“Y/N…” he breathed, voice taken away by the wind before it could reach you.
You hurried to the car instead of answering, and he followed you this time, shivering in the cold. And once you were back in the safety of your vehicle, the seats had lost their warmth, and the tiny space between the two of you seemed unbearably vast, a chasm you would never be able to close or cross.
You were both staring out by the windshield, while the snow finally receded. You could start driving again…
“Can you say something?”
“We should try to drive again.”
“Y/N… please…”
But as you turned to him, it was to stare at his palm, not his gaze.
“You’re bleeding.”
Andrew followed your gaze, looked down at his own hand. There was a long cut across the palm, red with blood, darkened with dirt on some spots. In the dim light, it was hard to tell how deep the cut was. It hurt, that was for sure. And yet, he didn’t care. You were more painful than an open wound.
“It’s nothing…”
“Let me see.”
You took off the gloves he had lent you, and Andrew didn’t have the strength to stop you as you gently reached for his hand, cradled it in yours, held it to the light to get a better view. Your skin was warm and soft against his cold one, and the thought that you could hate him, that you could resent him for sharing feelings he knew as unrequited made the tenderness of your hold almost unbearable.
“How did you hurt yourself?”
“I slipped in the snow. Caught myself to the wall. Sharp stone.”
You heaved a sigh, the sound was almost annoyed, but not quite. More like… worried.
“Hold the light, would you?”
He didn’t think as he obeyed, yielding to your will, the way he always did. You grabbed a bottle of water and some tissues from the glove box, and started to slowly clean up his cut. You were leaning closer to do so, and Andrew couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward as well, longing for your nearness, basking in the touch of your hand as it came back to cradle his, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.
The breath he let out before speaking again was shaking.
“Do you hate me?”
You looked up, seemed to realize how close the two of you were. You could easily lean up and kiss him, and he could easily lean down and press his lips to yours. Instead, you both remained motionless, perfectly still, merely staring while he waited for an answer you thought was too obvious to be spoken.
“Why would I?” you asked back.
“Because… because we’re friends. And I caught feelings. And… maybe you hate me now that you know that I don’t… I don’t see a friend in you at all. Now that you know that I lied.”
But you didn’t answer, instead, you lowered your gaze again, and Andrew jumped and let out a hiss as you pressed the wet tissues against his broken skin.
“I’m not angry,” you finally reassured him. “I’m just… I don’t really believe you, I think.”
“What? Why wouldn’t you?”
You shrugged, and despite your claim of being calm, the smile that formed on your lips was bitter when you spoke.
“For how long have we been friends? And you’ve never said anything? Never felt anything, until I decided to go away? And now, all of sudden, you’re catching feelings?”
“I’ve never said these feelings were new.”
“You friendzoned me, back in the days. Do you remember that?”
Andrew winced, but nodded anyway.
“This… this was different.”
“Because I was just a friend?”
“Because I was the one leaving. Because it wasn’t fair to ask you out just to disappear for months while I was touring.”
Finally, you looked up again, trying to read something in his eyes, and whatever it was, Andrew hoped that you would find it there. He hoped you could see that he was being earnest, that he meant it, that there was no doubt to have. He had never doubted his love for you, even if he had refrained it. It had been a truth he had relied on for years. With a bit of luck, you might want to rely on it too…
“But then you came back… why didn’t you say anything then?”
“You weren’t single anymore. It was my turn to get friendzoned.”
The ghost of a smile formed on his lips, a soothing offering. But it was sad all the same.
“And after that?”
“After that… you were already my best friend. You… I didn’t want to lose you. And you… you deserved better than that. You deserve better than what I can give you. Waiting around while I disappear for months, what kind of life is that?”
You stopped breathing as he lifted his unharmed hand up to your face, brushing his fingertips across your cheek, the way he had longed to for years.
If his heart was staggering behind his ribs, if his breath was caught in his throat because of this gentle touch of your skin, when he closed his eyes to gather his strength, there was a tear breaking free.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know you don’t feel the same,” he shook his head as he opened his eyes again, falling into your gaze, and he saw there the same tears he tried to withhold in his own eyes. “I know it’s a one-sided thing. I didn’t… I didn’t want to break everything. I’m sorry.”
He was surprised when you shook your head and leaned into his touch, forcing his hand to open so he could cradle your face in his palm, long fingers disappearing into your hair and tenderly brushing your skin.
“God, you’re such an idiot.”
He raised a surprised eyebrow, not daring to move or reply. You started laughing, and he was at a loss.
“We’re both so damn stupid!”
He had to blink to make sure that he wasn’t imagining your movement as you slowly closed the gap between the two of you, as you leaned up to meet him. He was too surprised by it to meet you halfway; he was too taken aback by the feeling of your lips against his to kiss you back. It took him a couple of seconds to process that this was truly happening, that he was not, in fact, lost in one of the many dreams he’d had of this moment. But then your hand was in the mess of his curls, and you were pressing your lips more firmly against his, and he allowed himself to believe that you wanted this as well, that perhaps he had been, indeed, such an idiot for failing to see what was right in front of him, the same way you had missed all of his gestures along the years.
And you wished you could admit to yourself that you were keeping control over the situation, having instigated the kiss, but you melted into his touch the second Andrew responded and kissed you back. His hold on your face tightened slightly, a tinge of desperation held in the gesture. You tightened your hold on his wounded hand, and he responded by twisting his wrist until he could hold onto your hand too. You chased after him as he pulled away, but he left only for a second, just long enough to tilt his head slightly to the side, bettering the angle of his next kiss so he could deepen it. And the second you could properly taste him on your tongue, you lost track of everything but him: the warmth of his scent, the softness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, his curls running through your fingers, the gentle scratching of his beard, and the overwhelming feeling of being kissed by him. The feelings he poured into the intimate gesture… no one had ever kissed you like that before…
When you broke apart, at long last, both of you breathless, blinking the dizziness of the kiss away in an attempt to find back an earthly footing, Andrew pressed his forehead to yours, afraid, perhaps, that if he got too far, he would wake.
“I don’t see you as a mere friend either, in case that was still unclear,” you clarified, tone half-joking, making him smile.
“Right…”
“You’re okay?”
“Just… trying to assess whether I’m awake or dreaming right now.”
Playfully, you pinched his shoulder, making both of you laugh.
“Awake,” you confirmed. “Even your wild imagination could not have pictured the storm of the century as a background for our first kiss.”
“First? Can I have another, then?”
You couldn’t refrain a giggle, gently shaking your head at him, brushing your nose against his in the process.
“A true thief, as always.”
“Of the worst kind only.”
His thumb caressed your cheekbone, soft touch across your soft skin, making your eyes flutter shut as your heart lost its rhythm.
“If you want to take this job in Geneva, we can still make it work.”
You lifted your eyelids again and pulled back, just to fall right into his hazel eyes.
“Just… don’t choose Tom…”
You shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile. Your hands moved to hold his face in both of your palms, to make sure he would keep staring at you as you answered.
“Fuck Tom. Fuck Geneva. I’d rather go on a date with you.”
Andrew let out a chuckle, eyes crinkling as he smiled. Still, he had tears in his eyes all over again.
“You said it yourself, though. It’s a great opportunity for you.”
“I want to stay. If we give this a try, I want to stay.”
“Y/N…”
“I’m sure.”
“I’ll be away for months…”
“And you’ll be the one paying for the plane tickets, I’m not emptying my bank account when I’ve got a millionaire as a boyfriend.”
You both laughed, and Andrew nodded, at last.
“Fair enough.”
You were about to speak but didn’t have the time, Andrew was leaning to kiss you again instead, and you couldn’t complain, didn’t want to stop his fall towards your mouth.
He hissed and pulled away too fast though, after mere seconds, looking down at his wounded palm that he had tried to press against your back.
“I should clean this up, and then we can keep on driving,” you proposed, and Andrew agreed with a nod, obediently holding his hand still while you took care of him. He did lean to kiss your forehead a couple of times though, and you were both still quite amazed that he could do it, or that he wanted to.
You would have to get used to it though. After the storm had passed, after you had found your way back onto the right road, after you had reached your destination, there was plenty of time to talk, to confess feelings you had both refrained for too long, for holding onto each other too tightly, for kissing until lips were bruised and numb and yet still willing.
Perhaps, this trip was not such a disaster, after all…
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dawndelion-winery · 8 months
Text
For Worse or For Better
Arranged Marriages
Ft. Diluc, Itto, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli
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Diluc:
Your parents were wonderfully close to Crepus, so you knew Diluc from young
He'd always been well-mannered and lovely
That much didn't change even after his trauma
It did hurt when he started shutting you out though
And yes, you did try to call off the engagement that had been set up before Crepus died because you felt he wanted to distance himself from you
You'd only kept it to honour the man's wishes and because Diluc seemed adamant about you
Like, he actually said he would not have anyone else
Not that he pressured you into it though
More of letting you know you didn't have to end it because he most definitely did want you
"Make no mistake, you will be the only person I recite my vows to at the altar. If you long for another, then so be it, but if you want me, then it shall be so."
Itto:
How did this happen?
No, like, fr, how??? Itto doesn't seem like the type to have any thoughts for social climbing and you...well what do you gain from marrying Itto?
Apparently your mother had heard Kujou Sara speak highly of Kuki Shinobu, and since Shinobu worked for Itto, surely he must be a man of even greater talent and character
Now you were having dinner with an extremely boisterous man who ate for three
By the shogun you hoped the bill wouldn't amount to too much
When he suggested a dine and dash? Boy, you were about to just walk right into a cell yourself
It was truly some grace of God that Shinobu came by with Sara and covered your tab (only for you, they made sure to tell Itto off for putting you in such a situation)
"Real sorry about that, honey," the oni said sheepishly. You wanted to hmgive him a piece of your mind, really, when you were certain you'd never hear the end of it at home of you'd gotten a criminal record, but when he slipped his hand in yours, a sheepish grin as he looked at you hopefully, as though pleasing for forgiveness, you found it rather difficult to stay mad.
Childe:
People would kill to be you
The dashing young harbinger?? Who's great with kids??? And very much a family man????
There was only one issue: he hadn't met you yet
His family had written to him about you, eagerly telling him how they were sure they'd found him the perfect match
And he wasn't about to shoot them down when they were so hopeful he'd finally have someone when he was travelling and doing the Fatui's dirty work all the time
So when they'd warmly welcomed you into their home for a simple dinner, you hadn't expected to walk in and see a feast prepared with an empty seat beside yours
You waited for a bit with everyone, wondering who the extra seat was for
And when Childe walked in with a sack full of gifts for all his family members, you sat there awkwardly
Was it an endearing sight? Definitely. But you felt out of place as he pulled out one item after another for everyone
You were certain you wouldn't receive anything, hence the surprise when he sat beside you and handed you a small box
"A little engagement gift for you," he winked. Your mouth hung open, thoughts racing through your mind full of things you wanted to say but weren't sure how - especially not in front of such a crowd, all of whom aww'ed at his gesture. It was after dinner when you'd gotten him alone in the kitchen washing the dishes that you addressed it.
"Engaged? We've only just met Tartaglia."
He tsked at you, playfully leaning in as though he was going to kiss your cheek. When you froze, he grinned by your ear.
"My whole family likes you well enough, and from everything they've told me, I like you well enough too. But if you insist, ice a week before I have to head off. I'm sure I could sweep you off your feet by then, unless you'd like to come with."
Kaeya:
Oh you thought you got lucky when your childhood betrothed grew up to be the charming cavalry captain
Until you realised that charm would never be extended to you because he was just a goofball with you
It was cute though, him picking flower petals with you to determine how your relationship will go
He had a habit of leaving the plucked flower and its final petal with the result on your pillow
(it was always "forever in love" because if it wasn't, he'd just pluck another flower)
You sighed with a laugh at the familiar sight of the plucked flower when you felt arms around your waist as Kaeya embraced you from behind.
You wondered bitterly if there was something wrong between the two of you; you never had that flutter of butterflies in your gut when he was around. Not once did he make your heart leap out of your chest, or cause your lungs to constrict in a way you were sure would suffocate you. Was it a mistake? Yet it didn't feel wrong. There was a frost to his touch that cooled you, calmed you, and almost (most ironically) warmed you.
Zhongli:
Under no circumstances would you ever meet someone who quite commanded the respect and attention of those around him like Rex Lapis did
So when the hooded figure stood before the citizens who so worshiped him, some overly devoted follower enthusiastically proposed a raffle to offer the god a spouse to serve and dote upon him on behalf of the nation
Before he'd even had the chance to decline the offer, the crowd erupted in cheers of agreement, and the flustered god was ushered into a seat as eligible spouses presented themselves before him
You truly had not anticipated the glint that flashed across his eyes as he ever so slightly raised his hood to make eye contact with you
It had been less than a second, and yet all too long as your lungs failed you, the startling amber glow leaving you winded
"I quite like you," he drawled in a low, rumbling hum as he rose from his seat. You looked around, ascertaining that no one else had seen his face, but he didn't seem to like that, as he tilted your chin to have you look at him. Once again, you were faced with the startling gleam of his eyes, so reptilian and sharp. You screwed your eyes shut as he leaned in, the sunlight reflected off his canines. His lips were warm, surprisingly, as they pressed against your forehead.
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fanofseabassanddorito · 3 months
Text
Dear Chris Evans,
I’ve waited and watched. I’ve gone back and forth with Real vs PR. I’m just a fan, of your work, but I also because of what you seemed to stand for and acted like a real person. I think I’m done now.
There has been questionable ‘sightings’ even though you claim to want to be private. Your friends and hers have posted the two of you. You have posted her twice yourself. But then you seem to hide her. That isn’t a good look. If you are in love with someone, you don’t hide them because you want to be private yet leak photos and hints to keep your fans spiraling when you know how some can be.
We all know celebrities use social media for what they WANT fans to see. Why? Because they want privacy, as they should, to separate their work world from real life. I completely agree with doing so, BUT I don’t agree with going back and forth. You owe fans nothing except maybe the respect that goes both ways. After all, your fans have been the reason you have your paychecks. I think we deserve a little bit of respect not to be played by what you say in interviews vs. what you show yourself to be through your actions.
There are so many examples of couples being private but NOT hiding significant others like they are embarrassed to be seen. A real private couple does things together but do not post montages on their socials, like scare videos and couples pictures. People do not call paparazzi unless they want to be seen. A real private couple does still go to things together, they don’t hide but they don’t bring attention to themselves. Real private couples do not let things drop during a special date for something else. One example, the NYC pap walk on the day that Warrior Nun season 2 dropped right after SMA.
Tabloids run on things they are given. There have been more articles about you and this girl than Harry and Meghan, Jennifer and Ben, etc., etc., etc. your reps have never confirmed anything. IMDb does not list her as your wife. Your mother liked a tweet about the girl being racist.
I had no issues at first, thinking you wanted privacy, which I thought was a great idea, given your fandom. I gave you the benefit of the doubt for a good while. But then it seemed like her friends and yours, her mom, along with the likes on IG, proved this isn’t private. Certain social media sites have been the only ones to randomly get these pictures that are nowhere to be found. It’s only a few, and they usually come at specific times when there is doubt. Friends posted from Lisbon, Avengers in MA, and the wedding rumors began. I’m sorry, but when there is an NDA, then the wedding news should not have leaked because the NDA would cover that. And if you have to ask people to turn in their phones to attend, that’s rude and you’ve invited people you don’t trust.
Showing up to a convention, with a ring on but you can’t say her name. Just ‘Go Portugal!’ And then go on about Dodger.
Let’s not even get into photoshopped or not photoshopped because I don’t even know anymore.
I could go on and on but it saddens me. I cannot be a fan of someone just because of their projects, and that’s just me. I have kept quiet, because it’s none of my business what you do with your life. What is my business though, is who I give my hard earned money to. Barely getting by on what I make, medications and food for my kids continue to rise in cost, but they also enjoy Captain America because he seemed like a good guy in real life too. Now they come to me with things they’ve seen online like Captain America’s new wife nude in the shower. They have seen people posting about her friends and their previous tweets, and things they’ve said. Why? Because you have played games with your fandom and they got pissed and exposed things. Let’s be honest, kids get online and see things even if they aren’t supposed to. Luckily they didn’t see your ‘slip’ up, because your fans cleaned that for you quickly, but the shower pictures continue to be passed around. They also said in some of the pictures they saw you post that they thought you had a daughter but found out it was your girlfriend.
I would make sure you don’t have any more slip ups because I feel like your fans are limited at this point. The ones that see your work the day it comes out. That’s one reason why Ghosted flopped. Before this, your fans would have said you did wonderful even if you didn’t.
After the new picture of the two of you at the Globes after party, I CHOOSE to not be a fan and hand you my money. I know it isn’t much, but I will choose to spend it on a different movie or person at a convention. Maybe I just won’t have a favorite anymore because it seems like a lot just tell fans what they want to hear.
I don’t know if it’s Real or PR and don’t care but it’s the game you seem to be playing that I don’t like. I don’t care what people think of my opinion and have not posted anything about a side. I just know you look like such a hypocrite and lose fans by the hour now. So many blogs and pages that are team PR or Team Real and they argue over who is right and wrong, because you and everyone around you are playing with them. You are using them for free publicity and that is sickening. I didn’t believe it was happening and you were just trying to protect your love life. But, eventually, it was just so obvious with the tiniest bit of things creeping in on the same sites and coincidences on dates. Mostly, I just don’t want to watch all the drama that has become part of being your fan. I like to escape the real world by looking at my favorite celebrities and what they are up to or their movies etc. I don’t want to see the gross mess you have become. She looks like your daughter, so I choose to leave. You don’t know me or care because I’m just one fan, but I do know who you want people to see you as now and I don’t like this version. Be private or just don’t hide. Look happy, not miserable. Treat her like your love and wife, because I would never allow my boyfriend/husband treat me the way it appears you are treating her. To the public, she looks like a mail order bride that jumps as soon as you tell her too. It’s gross.
So, it’s been a long, fun ride being your fan until now. Enjoy traveling back and forth and wear sunscreen to the beach, because boy are you white. Research the word ‘privacy’ and maybe get those NDA’s to the people leaking things if you want privacy or take their phones from them when they are in your proximity. Invest in energy drinks next, she’s a lot younger and likes to travel and have sex (maybe check out her soft porn). Let Buddah know she did a film with a demon having sex with her. Maybe purchase a plane and get a pilots license, because older dogs don’t travel as well as they age and that’s a long ride to Portugal. Remind your wife to keep her clothes on and keep your 🍆 in your pants because I think Team Real is even over this mess and don’t want to see it. Thanks for the laughs and smiles over the years. I wish you luck and hope you’re happier than you actually look.
Sincerely,
An Ex-Fan of Christopher Robert Evans
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ieatangstforbreakfast · 6 months
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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader
Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.
Genre ೃ⁀➷  Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡
Tags ೃ⁀➷  Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.
Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ Chapters are a bit rushed, sorry bout that 😭 hope u enjoy tho
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Chapter 1: Behind the chain
Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mention of death, horrible Spanish. Also, I don’t live in America so idrk how people talk there, so please bear with me.
FIC MASTERLIST
Next Chapter
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“Hello? Yeah, I’m at practice.”
As your feet hit the ground, the chain link fence shutters from the release of your weight— a sigh escaping your lips as you pull your phone up closer to your ear. The sound of your aunt's nags echo from your phone, bellowing across the abandoned subway and overpowering even the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground. It was shrill, her voice. Like a fork being dragged down a piece of fine china. Activating the flashlight of your phone, you swiftly slip your head out of your hood, the new spot now staring back at you like an empty canvas— devoid of life and color. It’s tragic.
As you trudge down the narrow space, your senses begin to process the stench of the horror movie-like scenery. You could heard the pipes’ leaking going along with your aunt’s ongoing lecture about something you couldn’t recall— somehow distracting you from your search.
But what certainly made you uneasy was the chill.
You hated the cold. You hated the way it’d ice your feet, dry your skin, restrict your clothes, and clog your nose. Though ironically, autumn was the season you found most enjoyable. Most of the nostalgia you bore came from the sight of those scarlet leaves— the smell of pumpkin spice, your mother’s old scarves, and the earthly rich tones of orange and red. It’d been so long, though, since your last happy memory in the season.
Nowadays, the nights are just longer, and the days shorter.
Soon enough, you stop before a tall, white wall, making you gasp as though you’d just won the lottery. Only then you started bidding your farewells to your aunt, who was beyond exasperated with your hurried adieu. Shoving the gadget down your pocket, your backpack falls right off your shoulder with a small thump, eyes still glued onto the blank space.
You make your way towards one of the seats, settling down your stuff while slipping your vape out the crevices of your sleeve and taking a slow puff— the taste of peppermint flourishing through your lips and covering up the stench of whatever was rotting in the railways.
"You're early." A familiar, sarcastic growl emits from the shadows. You turn around as the light from your phone blinds him, making him wince.
“I missed you.” You playfully answered.
The familiar gleam of hazel blinks and stares right back at you, the same stoic stare narrowing from your comment.
“Sure you did.” He huffs.
In the back of your mind, the same phrase bellows.
Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miles Morales.
It was one night, two months ago, when the two of you first met. You were an utter mess, and so was he— and it just so happened that beneath all that rain, the two of you found each other at the right time, at the right place. Supposedly.
The two of you bonded in loneliness and art. It was almost poetic, especially knowing that the two of you were anything but good for each other.
But you believed that that’s what’s great about life— the reckless things, and betting whatever you have on the line, for a taste of something thrilling. Miles knew how to pull on your strings, and the idea of being understood was still new to you. Still, whenever you do find yourself in the comfort of Miles Morales, you can’t help but ask yourself:
Who will we be to each other?
How will we change each other’s lives after this?
You couldn’t quite tell if it was your gut warning you, or your anxiety just being a little shit, but you knew the time to hear the answers was drawing near. You had no idea whether the possibility mortified you or not.
One thing for certain though, was that you knew you wanted him, and you were willing to take the risk to see him over and over again.
Miles took a step closer, his height towering over you like a tree. With a single finger, he maneuvers your flashlight away from his face with a light push.
"Get that shit away from my face."
“Awe, but I wanna see that pretty face of yours.”
“Stop.”
Cat and mouse was your usual dynamic. Though you couldn’t quite pinpoint who the cat was.
He clicks his tongue, moving away from you to head over somewhere else. A few seconds later, the power suddenly lights up and brings the subway back to life. Miles stood by the power switch, staring right at you as if to examine your reaction.
You straightened your lips and raised your brows.
"Well, you should've done that sooner."
He lazily shrugged his shoulders, approaching you once more yet with more meticulous steps. "Wanted to scare ya." He cooly confessed, earning nothing but another chuckle.
"If you wanted to scare me, don’t look so pretty."
Said pretty boy furrowed his brows, making you grin wider.
"Ay, díos. You're..." For a short moment, he thinks of how to complete the sentence.
You hum. "I'm what?"
".. so fucking unbearable."
"Awe, I missed you too." You smiled in a sickly sweet way while placing a hand over your heart. That certain sort of thrill began thumping inside you again, an unfamiliar excitement that got you staring right at him mindlessly with that stupid look on your pretty face. As Miles replied with silence, you shrugged and pulled the mod up your tinted lips— blowing the smoke away from his face. Only then, you gestured it towards him.
"Want a hit?"
"Nah." He dryly replies. "That's your first step to a rehab, y'know."
A low laugh exits your lips, taking another hit while slowly walking around. "With how fucked up I am, I'm bound to end up in either jail, a rehab, or a mental institution— so," You snap your fingers. "I'm just gonna enter all three of them."
Miles looks at you, horrified.
"M’just kidding. Don't you think I look hot while doing it, though?"
He peels the horrified stare away from you, instead choosing to kneel before your backpack, unzipping the damn thing as though it were his.
"What'chu got?" He asks, a certain twang in his voice that lightened you up. You head over in less than a second, grinning stupidly like a little kid in search of favor. You pull the plastic bag out of your backpack, waving it over his face.
"Only the best for you." You wink. "I just kindly borrowed these from my school's art club."
Receiving the bag from your grasps, Miles pulls out the newly bought spray paints. He furrows his brows at the sight of the bold fifteens printed on the bottom of each bottle, a tag left as if to brag. "Kindly borrowed, huh?" He skims over the bottle, evidently impressed. "Fifteen dollars per bottle? That’s a whole heist right there.”
“I literally just snatched it off the cabinet.”
“You must go to some rich kid’s school or sum. You even look the part.”
He gestures over your well-kept appearance. Your clean boots, pressed jeans, freshly done nails, and fragrant hoodie.
And yet you continued to look at him like he was the crazy one.
"... Miles, it’s called neatness. A basic trait." You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, the ache in your bones subtly easing. "If I did have the money, my art would be in an exhibition, not in an abandoned subway."
He pursed his lips, somewhat convinced. "Touché."
As he unpacks the paints, you stay beside him, watching as he goes through the colors and lines them up in order. You shove your hands down the pockets of your hoodie, humming.
"So what'll you be drawing tonight?"
"I ain’t really sure yet… The Subway logo, maybe." He shrugs, an exhausted groan rolling off his tongue as he stands up. "… I ain't got shit. I'm drained."
"Then why'd you come here?"
"Felt bad for ya."
You smirk. "So you did miss me."
He takes a step back, turning his head the other way. "I sure do find your delusional ass amusing." He mumbled, trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at his throat. You hardly notice it, as you were too busy staring at the empty wall, but Miles was uneasy. Uneasy in a way that he was desperate to hide it.
"At least I’ve got an ass." You airily snap back, silence following like an awkward stench. "Did you bring your sketchbook with you, by the way?"
He then proceeds to go through his jacket, eyes widening from the realization. "Ah, shit. I did... Not."
"Awe." You blandly answered, pulling out your own from the pocket of your bag. It was small, convenient, almost like a notepad. "Well, I've got mine here." You toss it over, which he successfully catches. "They're not exactly as good as yours, but you can skim through the pages to find some inspiration."
The pages spin from the flip of his fingers. Tens of concept art, a few unfinished sketches, and some dabbling in watercolor appeared before him in a flash. As he goes through the pages, you take the moment to have a momentary smoke, straying not so far away just so he wouldn't inhale any of it. The nicotine eased you as it normally did, though now that you were looking at this pretty boy before you, you couldn't help but ponder about quitting. Just for him. Just for the sake of him.
Though the feeling the nicotine often brought you was addicting, his presence hit you harder than any other drug, affecting your system in a way that made your stomach whirl. He was like your favorite cup of coffee— the strongest coffee to ever linger in your presence. Strong enough to appear on a drug test.
It was damning.
Dangerous even.
As the page flips again, Miles freezes at the sight. You take the gadget away from your lips, approaching him immediately as he huffs.
"... Huh."
Bursting in neons of magenta and violet was the sketch you made of a certain vigilante.
"Oh, don’t mind that." You mumble. "That's just some random sketch."
He brings the paper closer to his sights, marveling at your talent. The markers and the ink, mirroring the image of a cat on the run. His pretty lips part, mouth hanging agape as he asks. "You know this guy?"
A hero of the streets, some sort of final pillar carrying the weight of New York's safety on his broad shoulders.
"Well, I've seen him— Prowler, from the news. I thought he looked pretty cool."
Prowler, a name all too familiar to you. How could you not know he was? A man hiding behind an iron mask, a digital purple hologram over the metals, making his silhouette mirror a panther’s. The man was all your father recently growled about, the memory of the heavy morning still engraved into your mind. You can almost sketch it out— The stench of his tobacco, the shrill of his angered voice, and the image of your poor housekeeper silently brushing some broken shards into the dustpan. You remember sitting by the dining table, solemnly choking on your breakfast as you forcibly shoved it down your throat.
Eyes downcast and hands shaking.
"You think he's cool?" Miles' voice tears you apart from the memory. He sounded almost elated, like a child in search of praise.
"Yeah, I'd always wanted to be a vigilante, fuck—" The vape rolls off your tongue unconsciously. "Like, my life is so damn boring, but at the same time, I've got too many responsibilities to handle so I can't do the things I like. But hey, that's life, I guess."
"If you've got too many responsibilities, then what the hell are you doing here? It's like midnight r'now, damn."
"I kinda told my aunt I had practice for band."
"You're in a band?"
"…. No." You deadpan. "That's the reason why I'm here, man."
He snapped the sketchbook shut, sighing as he plucked out the red and purple spray paints from the line. "God, you'd be one hell of a headache if I ever had a kid like you."
"Woah, slow down, sweetie, you're already talking about kids and you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." You tease, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you watch him crumble. He straightens his lips, forcefully holding back a smile.
"… Shut that mouth for me, would ya?" He shot back. "Just shut up."
"Oo, make me."
He pops the lid off the red paint, the sound of a nickel ball being shaken up in a metal can soon following. Without even an ounce of hesitation, he curtly sprays the paint over your sleeve, earning a gasp from you. You quickly snatch the neon pink can and start spraying back, the chemical smell wafting over your nostrils as the sound of your giggles echoed down the halls. A minute later and the both of you began drawing your new piece while being drenched in paint.
"Hey, pretty boy.”
Miles instinctively turns to look at you, as though he prided himself in the nickname.
"I need to do the top part, can you boost me?" You ask, voice muffled from the towel pulled over your nose.
Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he agreed without making a sound.
He kneels, tapping on his thigh, gesturing you to take your step. Taking off your shoes, you cautiously climb over, feeling his hands brush against your calves, almost as if he was readying his stance to catch you just in case you fall. Initially, the pose seemed to be serving you well, but when your ankles started shivering, your hand latched onto his head, gripping gently in panic. Miles, who was, of course, caught off guard, began shaking. You finally took a step down.
"Fuck." You whispered. "Can you do it?"
"Hol' on."
"I think you just need to like, tiptoe a bit and—"
"Be patient."
And you did just that.
He stretches out his toes in an attempt to reach for the top, but he fails miserably. Miles then turned to you, bearing the pout of a frustrated child.
"... Ya already know what to do, right?"
"Mm, yeah."
An irrational thought crosses his mind, and it battles against his rationality like a civil war within the confines of his head. A second later, his lone finger signals you to come closer. You do so, and he looks up at the unfinished crown.
"I'm gonna carry you, a'ight?"
"What?" You blurt out. "Y-You don't have to—"
"Just balance yourself." He skips past your rant. "And you better do it well."
Before you could even intervene, he's down and offering you his shoulder. Hesitantly, you position yourself. Looking over at you, Miles skims over your face in search of approval. When your hand shakily makes its way over his other arm, Miles cautiously wraps his palm over the side of your knee, hoisting you up like a trophy he’d just won.
"You okay?" He asks.
"Y-yeah. Just— yeah." You stumble over your words, raising your hand over to start painting.
You could feel it tingling in your bones. Skin deep, rotting within the confines of your flesh, insecurity at its highest peak. And it shut you up. Miraculously, as Miles would say it. Your weight, your body, your own figure frightened you. It would be a lie for Miles to claim that he hasn’t noticed. But he stood tall, hardly showing an ounce of any struggle— which comforted somehow.
He was pretty strong, stronger than you first thought.
As you painted, Miles stood there in silence. Trying his best to focus on his breathing.
But the softness of your palm atop his shoulder, and the growing warmth of his own over your waist. Miles desperately tried to ignore growing warmth burning his cheeks. He resisted the urge to dig into the softness of your waist, and yet it remained like a taunt— allowing only his nails to grip over your shirt, the thin barrier over your skin. It seemed almost vulgar, how his hand was beneath your hoodie, gripping as though you were his favorite plush. How his wrist was pressed against the curve of your hip. Then and there, within the span of five minutes, the silhouette of your body was forever engraved into his senses, his mind, and his touch.
But no one spoke of it.
"... You done?" He groaned.
"In a bit, hol' on."
You thought he'd start complaining about your weight, but he didn't.
You were somewhat relieved, but at the same time, it flustered you.
And when the little scene ended, you and Miles stood there, backs pressed against the wall as you stared at your new masterpiece. You looked over the chemical stains on your sleeves, glancing at him. "This jacket's pretty expensive, y'know. It cost me like fifteen grand."
His face twisted in disgust. "You'd buy a jacket like that? In this economy?”
"It's a capitalist world we live in."
"No shit."
The two of you share a small laugh, evidently exhausted from the whole art process. It wasn't all that much, but it was based on one of your many doodles during class. The cursive that spelled out Stay Out was painted in an intimidating shade of red, its borders tainted in white and black— a crown of thorns resting above the text. It seemed like a warning, an open threat. Crafted by frustration, but upon its finish, you were eased.
"Next time, we should do something that says 'Eat the rich' or 'Vive la revolución.'" Miles suddenly suggested, jazzing his fingers comedically. You click your tongue. "We might get shot, man.”
“With all that smoking you do, you’ll wither away before the bullet even manages to get you.”
You raised your brows. “Okay, and?”
Miles scoffs at your ridiculous reply, but for a moment he thinks about it— some sort of plan in his mind. Sooner or later, he soon gently raises his palm without a word. You stare at his hand confusingly, “What?” you then asked of him. The boy then gestured over his lips with his fingers shaped like a v, imitating the act of smoking. “Lemme try, at least once.”
“… You’re kidding.”
“I’m being for real, ma, just let me try it once.”
You think about rejecting his request, but the curiosity had you fishing out your e-cigarette in less than a second.
“Okay, but if you die, I’m not paying for your damn ambulance bill.”
“Just uber me to the damn hospital.”
Miles then looks at it, glaring holes into the pen-shaped gadget as though he were waiting for it to speak. After considerably taking his time, he plucks it out your palm and starts a slow sip, the collision of the nicotine and the flavor flooding his tongue as the smoke enters his system. When the heat creeps in, however, he bursts out into a coughing fit.
You snatch the gadget away from his grasp as he groans.
“Careful.”
"What the fUCK—, ain't that s'pposed to calm you down?—" He slams his hand against the center of chest in an attempt to ease his lungs.
"… Did you fucking swallow the smoke or what?" You sigh while taking a sip, the smoke smoothly exiting your lips.
"... You know what? You are definitely gonna die early."
"Oh, darling, don't threaten me with a good time."
“Pu—” He coughs a few more times. “Puta, I almost died there.”
You take your palm and began rubbing small circles behind his back. “You shouldn’t do the shit I do, even if I look hot doing it.”
“Ain’t nobody told you that.”
“… Why’d you wanna smoke anyway?”
“I just wanted to know why you keep doing that.” He groans, staring at the pen in your fingers. “I mean— it’s unhealthy as fuck, hardly tastes good, and it’ll kill you the ugliest way possible. So why do it?”
You lower the pen as though your long-lost conscience re-entered your body.. “… I don’t know really.” You mumbled half-heartedly. “I think it’s what calms me down the most…? I don’t know.”
“… You don’t have, like, normal hobbies?”
“The fuck— of course, I do.” You swiftly shot back. “I just don’t have the time to do them.”
“Then what do you do at home?”
You blink.
“What— What do I do at home?” You repeat, thinking of it to yourself. “That’s a good question, what do I do at home?… I do chores, I study a lot. I-I take care the house.” Take care of the house? Yeah, shit I ain’t Mirabel Madrigal. As your mind short circuits, from a mile away, you could already guess his reply.
“I do that too, dumbass.”
You click your tongue. “.. It’s complicated. The time I usually have for myself is when I’m outside, that’s why I lied that I took up band for extra credit.”
You smoothed out the details of your life, picking out a few small details that were definitely not all that important.
"Is that why you're here?"
"Yeah.”
The boy curved his lips into a slight frown.
“I mean,” You shift closer, sighing as you palm the back your neck. “Sometimes, places like these are better than my own home."
"Places like an abandoned subway?"
“You make it sound like I’m homeless.”
“That’s what it sounds to me.”
"... It’s just.." You run your fingers through your hair, eyes glued onto the ceiling above. "I feel more at home in an abandoned subway more than my own house.”
Miles hummed. "… I'd always thought home would be more of a person," He tilts his head. "Rather than a place."
The silence was deafening, but this time, nothing was urging you to fix it— because there was nothing in need of fixing. You were comfortable, weirdly enough, as you never really found comfort in utter silence.
“It’d be nice to be.. Someone’s home.” You couldn’t help but utter those cheesy words. “I think I’d make a great home.”
Miles fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, holding back the words that echoed in his mind.
Yeah, you’re doing great.
Instead, what slips out of his mouth was: “How the fuck are you gon’ be a home? You’re a whole haunted house.”
“Oh, fuck you.” You roll your eyes. “If I’m a haunted house, you’re a rental where all the drive-by shootings happen.”
“Okay, what the fuck.”
“When you go low, I go LOWER.”
In the end, the two of you simply bursted into laughter, sinking down to the floor to take a seat. Another hour passed and so did a hundred topics. They flew by like the autumn leaves, leaving the both of you unconsciously huddling close for warmth beneath the large scarf you brought. Two birds of one feather, one nest. Easy conversations, light laughs, and genuine interest.
Even when the conversation grew darker, the two of you infinitely felt cosy enough to confide in one another. Especially when Miles spoke about his father.
You listened well, yet there was this ball stuck in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow. A heaviness in your heart, a stiff feeling in your throat. However, your ears were welcoming. His tone was grieving, but his words resonated with acceptance.
"He used to drive me every morning to school... We'd fight over the pettiest things, and god, I hated it, but looking back, it was better then." He buried half his head into his arms. "I'd rather have him annoying me than have him not annoying me at all."
The words hit you like a truck, leaving you defenseless. In a moment, your walls crumble as these words crawl out your mouth. "... Sometimes, when we're with someone, you can't help but wish they'd leave you alone, but when they're gone, only then you'll realize how much you can't live without them."
Though your words were meant for Miles, you knew damn well that they were also for you.
"... There's some truth to that, I guess."
"Does that mean that you'd miss me when I'm gone?" You tease.
Your gentle gazes collide, and eventually, you see that Miles had softened entirely.
"... Maybe."
“.. Maybe?” You repeat his reply. “.. Should I annoy you more then?”
“You’re annoying enough as you are.” He huffs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hate you so much.”
“Sure you do.”
You lean against his shoulder. “Hate me all you want. I’ll pretend to believe you.”
A light chuckle emits from his lips, but as it fades, he turns his head, burying his nose in the scent of your hair. You were fragrant, and it was addicting. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and basks in your scent.
Then he called out your name softly.
You hum, looking up at him— the inches between you closing in, cold breaths like white smoke intertwining. His cold fingers dance atop your own.
“What?” You whisper.
His lids were heavy, gaze switching between the pool of your eyes and the plush of your lips.
Then and there, you knew.
But something screamed at you in the back of your mind.
We can’t.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
And you pulled away before your lips could even meet.
"Shit." You cuss, clumsily pulling the phone out of your pockets. Your hands frantically scramble to answer the call, the look of Miles' defeated stare stinging the corner of your eye. "Hello?" You began, hearing the chauffeur's voice ask back. "Ma'am, where are you?"
Your fingers press the side of your phone, lowering the volume.
“We're currently clearing up the room right now. Can you please wait about thirty more minutes? Thanks."
As the call ends, you frantically head off to start cleaning up. Trying to evade whatever had just happened— at least, you try to. It invaded your mind and heart, left you breathless and unsteady.
You and Miles began picking up the bottles, shoving it inside the plastic. You then flung the strap of your backpack onto your shoulder, holding the plastic out to him. "You can have it."
Confusion was scribbled all over his face.
"Didn't you steal that from your school's art club?”
You look up, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "It’s their problem, not ours." You grin.
Miles shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Tsk tsk tsk, eres una chica tan mala."
"Don't start, the only Spanish I know's from Dora."
"Que?"
"Queso."
You shove the plastic into his arms. "No hablo Español, lo siento." Was all you managed to form out of the past few weeks you started learning Spanish. You threw a hand in the air, waving him a fast farewell while pivoting your heel to leave.
“Can’t I walk you home?” A suggestion, and not a demand for the first time, Miles insists “It’s dark as fuck outside, and you might get.. Y’know.”
For a moment, you pause to laugh.
“Are you worried about me?”
He nods. “I am.”
“I— wait, what?”
He took a step further. “I am worried about you. It’s ten o’clock. I think I should take you home.”
Miles looked at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It was unfamiliar, or maybe you just weren’t good at paying attention, yet now that it was materializing before you— It overwhelmed you.
It was breaking you open.
You bite your lower lip, shoving your hands in your pockets.
“… I-I don’t know, I don’t think my dad would like that very much.”
“And I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like the idea of his lil’ girl getting hurt.”
There he goes again, towering over you, his cocky eyes never once leaving your face. Lil’ girl my ass, you can’t help but think. I’m tall, asshole. You just so happened to be taller.
“I’ll walk you home.” He reiterates. Now it’s an announcement, not a proposal. “You can tell me to leave when we’re near. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”
“… Miles,” The way his name rolls off your tongue had him weak, and you couldn’t even tell. “.. Okay, fine— But, only up until the Gristedes down the block. Until then, you go home, alright?”
Your voice was too soft, too mellow. It made his breath hitch, made his neck tense in this already cold weather.
“Aight.”
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altarrot · 1 year
Text
LAMB TO SLAUGHTER.
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ao3 issue.
synopsis: a malevolent enemy resides in the dead depths of the forest during dusk, as the warnings come and go through, but said enemy was never anticipated to be so enrapturing. authors note: making my first fic on tumblr on the predator and prey trope because like... why not
[ ♡ ] pairing: killer!simon "ghost" riley + fem!reader
[ ♡ ] genre: smut, sexual content
[ ♡ ] warnings: unprotected sex, innocence kink, soft!mean!ghost, slight taunting, loss of virginity, overstimulation, mild degradation, pet-names, dirty talk, corruption kink, age difference, oral sex (fem!receiving), sex in a forest, slight knife-play, slight breeding kink, possessive sex.
PART 1/2 | PART 2
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Living in a small, unpopulated town; there was no doubt that scandals got around through other people’s mouths easily, including potential myths. Serial killers. Sightings of extraterrestrial entities. A great majority of it was falsehood and just something to possess a rise out of the community. Although, serial killer scandals were no joke compared to entities; which is what has been circulating throughout the small town for the past couple of weeks, some supposed serial killer inhabiting the local forest.
Despite there being masses of locals and officers released on a search into the forest on a daily, there was no success in locating the whereabouts of this fallacy. Worrisome spread like a plague and increased in size by each passing day, like some sort of rise of a satanic panic. Your parents, already had been plagued by this rising anxiety, warns you of staying inside all day, keeping the doors nailed shut. A single hunting rifle was granted to you, but never used; guns were something that you’ve never learnt to use, even though your father was a huge thing on hunting. (Even when you were a little girl, you declined the offer of hunting).
Of course, you would be like the average human caught in the spider’s web of this situation; terrified, fearing for life — but you just weren’t. You were more curious than anything, completely, and utterly curious to the murderer.
So at the stroke of midnight, your parents secured in their beds with rifles at their bed-side tables, you undid the lock of the back door — pulling the wooden panel open by the knob, and allowing yourself to be exposed to the outside. Conveniently, your house was pin-pointed right where the forest was, it was practically apart of your backyard. You were hesitant at first sight, trembling and enthralled by hesitance, but you soon gave it up.
Your blood ran cold in your veins as you made your steps down the porch steps, through the fielded weeds, and into the sea of forest. The more steps you took, the deeper you found yourself in the vast region of darkness, leaves of the overhead trees with little cracks of your only source of light; a faint glow of moonlight in which hung from further than the trees. Your surroundings were silent except the crunch of a fallen tree branch or an unusually heavy breath that drew from your mouth, the atmosphere was unnerving.
It was completely idiotic of you to venture out into serial-killer territory with only a simply, frilly dress of lace clothing your body from the wind. A compact switchblade rests in your fist, now noticed with a dull blade but you considered it decent enough to stab a person out of self-defense. Taking notice, your heartbeat hammers in your chest more irregularly. It swells and puffs up, making it harder to breathe in some ways, though you push through and squint your eyes at the shadows to push on.
Stupid. Stupid and brainless is what you were. You had no purpose in even proceeding with a haphazard goal. Maybe it was because you wanted to prove some bravery, make up for the times you were too coward to spend your childhood hunting and touching animal carcasses. Bravery was something you lacked and wanted to prove as something you could change, something that could be converted into something useful.
Yet, you pursued your hollow journey, swearing to yourself that you could feel eyes scorching — stalking every single one of your movements. The fictitious thought got a rise of goosebumps lining up your arms, beads of sweat forming at your skin. Although, you convinced yourself none of it was real; just another fragment of your imagination, something to frighten you to death. You drift further away into the area of woods, your curiosity striving to pave its away through your fears.
Your jaw clenches at an abrupt sound from behind. It’s a combination of crunching on dead twigs and a pale breathing — though, you’re not really sure if there was an accompanied breathing or if it was just a factor of fear acting up. You swear you’re on your last bit of sanity, about to stumble away and lose your mind right in the middle of a horrific-looking forest.
Unfortunately, there was no fear factor acting up, and it was proven when the crunch of leaves surge in speed right up the spine behind you. You’re granted no time to make a break for it or even react when a blade is pressed into the pulsing bunch of your neck, body staggering right into a larger, more towering one.
As you look up into the upper-half of the obscured silhouette, you can only make out two baths of darkened eyes which were highlighted in the luminesce of the moon. He had eyes without a face, veiled with a balaclava imprinted with features of a skull, and pale skin smeared with blotches of tar-like paint around the eyes. Edgy, but in this scenario with a blade to your neck, horrifying. You struggle to release from the man’s grasp but it’s no use when he’s made up of pure muscle, strength at levels of insanity.
“What’s a sweet, little girl doing out here at midnight?” his voice is raspy, deepened with an accent. Your heartbeat is set at severe rates.
The man holds you against him; one of his brawny arms is wrapped fully around your chest while the other is occupied with the knife. He’s a monster, you thought, barbaric for the sake of blood and other violent needs. Splatters of dried blood are visible through the holes of his mask on his skin, some of the droplets not so visible on the blacks of the mask. You pause with your struggles, stiff with the only gestures of your up-and-down chest.
“Are you going to kill me?” your words come out as an unexpected shushed whine.
“Kill you?” he said, with an almost chuckle, “Why would I bring myself to kill such a pretty thing like you?”
Relief swamps your nervous system, nearly calmed with his response. You were too naive, you gave it too quickly to facile words that could easily be frauds of the real, brutal thing. Turning back and escaping was certainly an option; it wasn’t an easy one but there could be some figured way to achieve it. However some buried, sadistic identity was telling you to stay with him — let him have his way with you, deprive you of your innocence, be something useful and obedient.
Your survival instincts were dropping like dead flies, that sadistic identity dominating those instincts. Strangely enough, you were establishing some sort of comfort in him, some portion to fill in the complete void of desolation. A pre-arousal starts to stain your cunt, panties sticky, and dressed thighs feeling limp about to give out. His breathing is heavier, as if he’s as desperate as you were, his posture adjusts. Now, you’re straight stood against his chest, eyes half-lidded and arousal felt between your inner thighs.
There’s a pulsating, overwhelming beat at your cunt; heat rushing to your face and body overturned in a fever-ish trance. He resumes with sharing a strict eye contact with you, taking notice of your doe eyes which twitched every so often.
“Your burning up, honey,” he said, observing your bare skin which smoldered under his gloved hands, “Wonder why.”
You nod your head in a disagreeing motion, not wanting to surrender to your repressed feelings, but you had a gut feeling he could tell; a fusion of sexual need, desperation, and dread which fogged in your two eyes. There wasn’t even an effort to try and hide it away from him, you just let it exhibit out like some showcase to the public eye.
“Can’t even tell me why, it’s because you’re needy, huh? Your panties all stained and sticky just because of me, getting off at knife-point.” he said, taunting how vulnerable you appeared underneath him, “You just want me to ruin this little pussy, don’t you? Needed someone to please your sticky cunt?”
God, you can’t even fight back, not at this point.
Whimpers fall from your lips like the leaves of the trees, lips red and wounded from constantly biting at them. Your eyes brim with small tears, edging to fall from position, “Please, need it so bad…”
“Shh, don’t worry, angel.” he coos, moving in sync with you towards a tree stump; pinning you to the object with the knife now tucked in his jeans. He gropes at your breasts through the flimsy fabric before hooking your thighs in a hold, lowering himself to his knees as he places your legs on his shoulders. “Is this what you want, love? Want me to make your tight pussy feel all better?”
Bobbing your head, you motion in agreement and mumble inaudible pleads. He smirks to himself behind the mask in satisfaction, bundling up the skirt of your dress till your soft panties — all sticky with arousal down your thighs — were exposed to the cold public. His thumb massages at the wet stain at the front of your panties, hips swaying in a poor effort to obey the press of the digit. He uses his empty fingers to clasp under the waistband of the cloth, dragging it down the two limbs you stood on, and pooling it down at your ankles.
You find yourself shivering on your laid back; lower-half entirely bare and only protected in a rip-able piece of dress. Your folds seem to gleam along with the natural source of the moon, cunt clenching around in vain.
“Fuck, honey, I’m going to ruin your pretty cunt so bad.” he said, his fingers branding touch into your thighs, bottom-half of his face exposed to pink lips and pale skin. “Ghost.”
“Huh?” you ask, absent-mindedly, astray.
“My name. Call me that when I ruin you.”
Ghost then wraps his naked lips around your cunt with no more words, sucking at the flesh, savoring the sweet taste. Your body convulses for a second before being nailed down to the wood of the stump, physically feeling yourself being ruined by the town’s most wanted. Squirming, releasing a variety of whines into the atmosphere. His fingers soon join the ministrations of his mouth, the two fingers pumping up inside of you, sending you into a condition of euphoria with the immense pressure.
Throwing your head back over the edge of the stump, you spread your legs further apart for him, bathing in the nature of his fingers and mouth smacking at your cunt at the same time. You grip at the top of his mask, the black cloth stretching with elasticity. A symphony of angelic, erotic sounds hum from your lips as his mouth gives pleasure at your clit. Ghost grunts occasionally, muffled right into your delicate features. A strain in your stomach warns of your closing orgasm.
Your hips practically ride his tongue in careless movements; doing so until the tension in your stomach climbed up steep heights until it reached the top, letting go — fucked-out and overtook with euphoria while his fingers thrusted through your sensitive cunt.
“Ghost…”
“That’s a good girl, so good,” Ghost said, extracting his fingers and lapping at the arousal that stained them. “All nice and stretched out for me, yeah? You want me to fuck up this innocent pussy?”
“Please,” you whimper, narrowing your eyes through the absence of light to peer at him, eyes doe and watery — unknown to what you were pleading to.
“Don’t worry about it, doll,” he stated, “It’ll feel good, I promise. I’ll breed your cunt, ruin you for every other man,” Ghost strokes your face with a gentle significance, “Would you like that?”
You swipe your tongue across a bitten lower lip. “Want that, I’ll be all yours, tear me apart.”
“That’s right, angel,” he said with a sharp breath, hands of veins coming to unfasten the belt that held up his jeans, the combination of his pants and briefs sliding to his ankles; his cock was erect, rigid right against the black tactical jacket he wore. “You’re all mine, and I’ll ravage you as much as I want.”
Empty-headed, you extended both your arms out to his face, caressing it, as you rammed your own lips into his. He tasted of a faint tea, and flavors of vulgar nature, he was heaven. His hands rest at either side of your waist while yours rest at his divided face — the lips of a murderer on yours were so immorally pleasant to hunger at. With an inclined figure over your stow figure, he parts his lips from yours and composes himself right between your thighs, fingers holding down onto the skin.
Ghost pushed lined his cock with the entrance of your cunt; he sheathes himself into you in a quick, single move of his hips. You whine, clenching around him in fluttering flickers, taking the time where he wasn’t moving to give a try at adjusting to both his length and bulk. His eyes stalk into your body, keeping them pinned on you as he starts off slowly, growing to be increasingly fast.
“That’s it, you’re okay, love,” he breathes out, “Keep clenching around my cock, just like that.’
You’re moaning his name like a verse. The blends of skin-on-skin, masculine grunting, and feminine moans were like a pitch-perfect harmony of raw lascivious.
“So angelic, baby, such a pure little thing.” Ghost grunts, “Such a whore for my cock, she likes having her sloppy cunt fucked by a killer, doesn’t she?”
You rapidly nod, tears streaming in rivers across your cheeks, down your neck. Having him inside you was the most divine thing you could’ve experienced, so cherish-able and unforgettable. He was some kind of angelic entity, casted by the looks of demonic circumstances, much like Lucifer. His lips meet at the fleshy base of your neck, teeth stabbing at the skin, soothing over the impacted wounds with the muscle of his tongue.
His thrusts are near-animalistic, pounding through your walls like a starved man, feeling him right at your cervix. You never thought you could get so defenseless, so yearning for a man of his nature. Some blood stains the skin of his cock, a symbol of loss, no longer the pure he says you are. But that could only mean you truly did belong to him.
“You going to let me come inside you, honey?” he asks, “You’ll never be alone again, I’ll always be a reminder of the first man you’ve fucked.”
“Yes!” you squeal, “Come inside me, make me yours.”
And with a few more stinging, godlike thrusts, the stance of his hips are pressed right up against your swollen cunt, the warmth of his seed felt splattering your walls — right as deep to your cervix. He remains in place, slouched over and heavy-breathed, you’re grasping at the chances of air into your lungs. You feel him twitch inside of your overstimulated cunt, earning him a small number of additional whines from your vocal chords.
Some of his come, along with your arousal, leaks out you and stains your inner thighs in a white; his cock is painted in the same shade. You’re both left to sound like panting dogs. (Having fucked like two creatures out in the wilderness, which was, substantially, exactly that.)
Ghost parts away, a last whine trailing off at the loss of him making you feel so full. His torso tugs with more breaths that were in progress of being caught; you’re giving him a latent smile — one of a drunk’s, no teeth bared, just lines of your lips. It’s abnormal. You weren’t supposed to show a man of homicide such endearment, passiveness — unless under the influence of some kind of Stockholm Syndrome — that was impossible, only having met him as of tonight.
“Such a pretty girl,” he said, reaching for back for the knife and sliding the blade in a caressing motion at the side of your face, “Like a lamb — I’m so obsessed with you.”
With his knife, handled in a solid fist, embracing your flesh — littered with imprints of your face pressing into the bark of the stump — he drew the metal of the blade to your collarbone. Some of the bone stuck out like an overgrown root in the ground, most of it just plain skin. You’re stuck in a vision of ecstasy, left incompetent at the hands of him; so all you really can do is grant him the consent of him to touch you, wound you up, kill you, earn up to his title.
A shiver crawls up your spine when the edge comes into contact with your cold, nude skin. Fear drowns in your cold veins, awaiting the possible death that could send you lifeless in a matter of seconds.
But to your own revelation, there is no flash of red, or a blistering puncture of skin in the contour of his weapon — only a minimal blistering. When you angle your head to look for the source of the slight burn, there’s a crimson puncture right above your breasts, deep enough to bleed; shallow enough to not cut at the bone or exhaust blood to the point of inevitable death. Gaping up at him through your languid sights, a rare tenderness occupies his distinct eyes; almost humane, incapable of brutality. He’s still situated between your spread thighs which are support at his waist, the material of his jacket sticking to your sweat-lustered skin.
There’s a strange intimacy shared between the both of you; with his body found in position between your thighs and hands — that abandoned the knife back into his pocket — latching themselves at each side of your hips. His fingers were pressed in a bruising, modest touch. As Ghost inclined himself back down your body, his visible lips press kisses to your forehead that drifted and continued on at your neck. You release a noise from your chest, circling your arms around his chest in a sort of hug, a hand brought up to his head and guiding him to your lips instead — deepening out a kiss that was more passionate, messier than before.
“You should’ve killed me, like all the others.” you confess at his lips.
He gathers one last taste of you before pulling away, still kept close and leaned down. Silent, he observes you and the confession which lingered in the air, possibly choosing wisely on how to answer it.
“You’re special,” he states, “Angelic, docile — nothing that I’ve come across before.”
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cobaltperun · 2 months
Text
Woe out the Storm (3) - Thunder
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Wednesday Addams x female Reader
Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.
Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn
Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part
Word count: 3.3k
-I was lightning before the thunder-
The Harvest Festival, frankly, you preferred it over the Outreach Day, for plenty of reasons. One of which was easily the fact you could just kick back and relax instead of working for people that despised everything you and other students were against your free will.
The only issue was you couldn't relax this year. Wednesday would escape tonight, meaning tonight was Rowan's last chance to try something.
And then there was Galpin... Talking with his father. Now, you did hear he stopped bullying people with the other three, but you found it difficult to forgive and forget.
You frowned and looked at Wednesday. "Really, Galpin is the one driving you?" you couldn't help but ask.
"I don't see how it concerns you," Wednesday replied.
You nodded, simply choosing to back away. Wednesday wasn't helpless, and who she interacted with definitely didn't have anything to do with you.
"Obvious dislike aside, are you sure you can trust that normie?" Enid asked, though she did send you a bit of a teasing smile.
"I trust that I can handle myself," Wednesday replied. Considering what she did against Bianca you found it difficult to disagree.
"Well, good luck and safe travels," Enid stepped toward her with her arms spread wide, only for Wednesday to decisively take a step back. "Still not a hugger. Got it," Enid shrugged, smiling at the girl.
"If you change your mind a third of that room is going to stay yours," you grinned.
"Until Weems puts someone else in," Wednesday told you.
Your grin turned into a smirk as you lifted your hand up and allowed a few sparks to appear around it. Just for a moment you thought you saw a spark of interest in Wednesday's eyes as she observed the sparks. "Nope, I'll personally make them ask for another room." you promised.
Enid coughed and elbowed your side.
You winced. She sometimes forgot her strength. "Nicely, of course, I'll keep my lightning to myself."
Wednesday tilted her head to the side by less than an inch. "Pity," she said.
You leaned to the side, shifting most of your weight to your right foot, you weren't sure how to take those words. "Since I won't be seeing you again, I, uh, I think you're great with the cello," there, a compliment to end the brief time together. That shouldn't make Wednesday uncomfortable, right?
Her eyes met yours and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of her stare. "Thank you," she eventually spoke up and the three of you parted ways soon after.
The moment Wednesday was out of sight Enid clasped your shoulder and smiled sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."
"Huh?"
"You don't have to pretend, I don't get what you see in her, but you don't have to hide it from me," somehow Enid got the wrong idea.
You sighed. This was your life now. Enid thought you had unrequited feelings for Wednesday. "Look, I know I can't change your mind," she enthusiastically nodded at that. "So, I’ll take a page out of Wednesday's book, somewhat. If you gossip about those feelings you claim I have, I'll fry your stuffed unicorn collection."
Enid squealed and bounced excitedly. "OMG! You do have feelings for her!" she wasn't going to let this go and you didn't even know how she came to that conclusion! Her eyes widened suddenly. "Go after her! Go!" in less than a second she was behind you and pushing you in the direction Wednesday went. "At least find a way to exchange letters with her if you can't convince her to stay!"
"Enid," you groaned, facepalming as you dug your feet into the ground to try and keep her from pushing you. All that achieved was two rows of dug up ground behind you. From the corner of your eye you saw Rowan, even more agitated and anxious than he was back when you confronted him in his and Xavier's room. "I have to go," you said, moving so abruptly Enid stumbled and almost fell to the ground.
~X~
Wednesday only touched Rowan for a moment, but it was more than enough. She saw flashes, glimpses of what was to come, all vague and unrelated, painting a picture she couldn't understand. She saw the purple book, the flames, the tree in the quad breaking into pieces, the raven surrounded by lightning, a glimpse of a blonde woman holding a bloodied hand and crying as blue eyes closed, red eyes turning orange, herself surrounded by cloud of dust and smoke with a huge beast surrounded by lightning standing over her trapping her, Rowan screaming as he was being torn apart by claws. And then the vision stopped
"Rowan, come back!" she ran after him, ignoring Tyler calling after her. She didn't understand why she was running, why she wished to prevent the last vision from coming true. Perhaps she just wanted to see if everything she saw was true, or if it somehow could be changed.
"Rowan, wait!" she shouted as she followed him deeper into the woods, the only signs of the festival that remained were occasional flashes of firework and the sounds they made.
Rowan stopped and turned toward her, furious and looking unhinged. "Argh! What do you want? Why are you following me?!"
"I don't have time to explain, but you're in danger," she wouldn't tell him about the vision, she didn't know how much time she had.
"I think you've got it backwards," he lifted his hand and suddenly Wednesday felt an invisible force lifting her up and slamming her back into a tree.
Even with her pain tolerance she still grunted, feeling the trunk digging into her back uncomfortably.
"You're the one who's in danger!" Rowan told her.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, and though she struggled it was futile. She couldn't get free.
"Saving everyone from you," he grunted, straining to keep her pinned to the tree. "I have to kill you."
That's when she pieced it together. "The gargoyle, that was you?"
"Yeah," he even smiled a bit.
"It's always the quiet ones," Wednesday commented as a piece of paper floated out of Rowan's pocket and unfolded in front of her. She saw a girl, dressed in black, with the background that looked like quad, only on fire.
"Girl in the picture, that's you," he said, she could feel the strain in his voice, but the force pinning her to a tree only got stronger.
"You want to kill me because of some picture?!" that was a ridiculous reason to kill someone, even for her standards.
"My mother drew that picture 25 years ago when she was a student at Nevermore! She was a powerful Seer. Told me about it before she died," Rowan yelled, as if that fact made his excuse for trying to kill her any better.
"Rowan, put me down," she demanded, his powers made it harder to breathe. He was choking her; he wasn't going to stop.
"No! My mother said it was my destiny to stop this girl if she ever came to Nevermore because she will destroy the school and everyone in it!" he cried out as Wednesday became unable to breathe.
"Rowan! Let her go!" she heard your voice and looked to the side, just as you threw a knife toward Rowan. Your aim was awful. He didn't even need to move and it would miss him by at least two feet.
And then she saw it, just as the knife was about to reach Rowan your body was engulfed in red lightning and you disappeared, your entire body shifting into lightning and bursting forth toward the knife. Wednesday watched, speechless as your body regained form right in front of Rowan, the knife in your left hand, and you, too fast for him to react.
You slammed your fist into his guts, sending him flying back, though she couldn't help but notice you didn't use lightning for the punch, just the natural momentum and strength you had. It still sent Rowan flying.
It also broke his hold on Wednesday and you threw the knife toward the tree, zapping toward it just in time to catch her before she fell to the ground. Wednesday blinked, still dazed by what just happened as you set her down and knelt in front of her. you weren't touching her, but she could clearly see the concern in your eyes.
"Are you hurt?" you asked, looking for any visible signs of injuries.
"I'm fine," she denied having any injuries. What were you thinking? That she'd show vulnerability to you just like that?
"Y/N!" Rowan enraged, bellowed as he got up to his knees and raised his arm. Your eyes widened as you were pulled into the air.
"Wait, Rowan!" Wednesday found herself shouting as she tried to get up.
"I'll kill you after I'm done with Y/N!" he had lost his mind completely, the madness in his eyes made that clear.
"Bring it! I'll show you exactly why Weems and the staff dread the storms!" you thundered, lightning gathered around you and began concentrating in a ball above your head. "Give up or I'll drop this on you! Forget all this madness!" despite the anger she could hear you pleading deep down for Rowan to just listen to you.
You never got a chance to do so, as a monster emerged from the shadows and grabbed Rowan, slicing and tearing him apart with its claws.
You dropped to the ground, landing on one knee. You were too surprised by the monster's appearance to maintain the ball of lightning. The monster turned to look at you two, with its bulging eyes, hunched back, sharp claws and greyish skin it was unlike anything Wednesday saw in her life.
"That's an," did you recognize the monster? "...oversized Gollum?" she expected too much from you...
~X~
The oversized Gollum fled and you and Wednesday were left with Rowan's corpse. You didn't need to be an expert to see he was ripped open by those claw and dead.
You watched, wondering if there was anything you could have done. You had your lightning ready, but you just couldn't react in time. Were you going to hurt Rowan? Yeah, as far as that went you couldn't say you were any better than the monster that attacked him, but you weren't going to kill him, as strong as the lightning you gathered looked. You were going to aim for the ground in front of him, close enough to knock him out from the shock, but not nearly close enough to kill him.
You were frantically looking around, searching for any signs of the monster coming back, but it looked like it really left.
"We need to get someone," there was an urgency in Wednesday's voice you didn't quite expect, but you could see her legs shaking slightly. Shock from Rowan's death? No. She didn't look shaken. Was it the hit she took when he tossed her into the tree?
Deciding that it was probably that you nodded and followed closely behind her, just in case she couldn't keep standing. Damn Xavier for slowing you down, maybe all of this could have been avoided if you were only a minute quicker.
The first person you came across was Bianca and you noticed Wednesday faltering just for a split second. "Rowan was killed by a monster, I don't have time to explain, just get someone," Wednesday opened straight with that.
Bianca's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? What are you talking about?"
But before Wednesday could reply she began falling forward. "Wednesday," you caught her and turned her around in your arms. She was unconscious. "Bianca we both saw him get killed. Get someone, I need to take Wednesday back to the dorm," you knew you were putting your life at risk by doing so, and that Wednesday probably knew roughly ta thousand different ways to inflict pain, give or take a few hundred, and that she'd be more than eager to put you through them. You still picked her up. "Please don't wake up," you pleaded, but your gaze softened. Wednesday looked peaceful and you couldn't help but notice how light and small she actually was. "I got you, I know you can't hear me, but I got you."
~X~
In the most ridiculous turn of events Rowan was actually alive, even though he clearly got killed less than 24 hours ago. How was that possible? You had no idea. You just knew the entire school thought you and Wednesday made that up. So, here you were, in the woods, looking for anything that could prove the two of you weren’t crazy.
And you found it, you found Rowan’s glasses with drops of blood on them. With glasses in your hand you went back to your dorm. Someone was covering things up.
When you came back to the room you found Wednesday and Thing at her table, looking at the drawing she took from Rowan. You placed the glasses on her table, near Thing. "Someone is covering this up," you went to her other side and leaned back against her table, your hands gripping the edge of it.
"These are Rowan's. You went to the woods?" she demanded, looking at you with slightly widened eyes.
You nodded. "I wasn't sure if the oversized Gollum was still there, so I went alone," you heard tapping and saw Thing rapidly signing to you. Somehow you understood. "I wasn't being reckless, I'm a raiju," in your mind that was all the explanation you needed to give.
"Don't do that again," Wednesday stated firmly. "I want to make sure we don't miss any clues," she said and then showed you the drawing. "I need to know what this is about."
That made sense. "Any clues as to where that's from?"
"No," she then pointed at the upper right corner. "But I noticed this just before you came in," there was a mark there, it was faint, but you could see it.
"Looks like a flower? I guess?" you couldn't offer much aside from that. You've never seen it before.
"Let's go to the library," she stood up from her chair and Thing went into her bag.
“You can go ahead first, I’ll join you in a bit,” you figured she was too eager to search for the book to let you go into the library first.
“Why?” she immediately asked.
You looked away, embarrassed. “The rumors, I guess? Most people go to the library for reasons that don’t have anything to do with books, if you get what I mean,” when she remained silent, and more importantly when she maintained that same look that inquired you to keep going, you were left with no other choice but to sigh and elaborate. “Making out. Most people make out in the library. So, we go there together and it won’t take Enid’s vlog for half the school to think we’re doing the same,” she was already deemed a psycho by most of the school, and the rumors that she killed someone could still be heard every now and then. Add in the fact that the entire school thought the two of you made up Rowan’s murder and as far as you were concerned the last thing Wednesday needed right now was for people to think she was with a raiju of all outcast groups.
Wednesday just frowned, tilting her head the same way she did during the festival. “Do not assume I care about such trivial rumors. Come on,” she was already halfway to the doors by the time you processed what she just said.
“Wednesday, I’m a raiju,” you reminded her, but still followed. She wasn’t going to stop and talk about this.
“I don’t see an issue with that, lightning beast. You can back out if you’re so sensitive about rumors,” she said evenly, there wasn’t a hint of hesitation, or any emotion in her voice, it was as if she was just stating a fact.
You could just watch her back, not entirely sure how to feel at the moment. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”
That got Wednesday to stop and turn around to look at you. “Then you should know I don’t care if they think I’m with you,” she just said it. As if she didn’t just say it didn’t matter what you were. That it didn’t matter you were a raiju. Sure, there were more dangerous outcasts, but raiju were solitary creatures. Docile, but uncontrollable, and you weren’t talking about just storms. That could be controlled, with time and practice you’d be able to stay in the rain and not worry about uncontrollable discharges. No, it was the beast form. Untamable, driven by instincts, unable to speak or fully grasp the situation it was in. Lightning is only capable of destruction and that form was the embodiment of lightning. Even with all the efforts you put into learning how to control your lightning you’d never, under any but direst circumstances, willingly shift into the actual raiju form.
Your father, as much as he cared about his roommate while at Nevermore, still lost control when he shifted and the man and his brother barely avoided being killed during a particularly bad storm. The fear of doing the same was what made you so adamant on staying in control all the time.
And here Wednesday was, acting as if rumors about her being with a raiju wouldn’t bother her.
All you could was to let out a weak laugh and go after the girl to the library.
~X~
Basically bursting into the library the two of you were met with the sight you expected to see. Heavy make out session of two students, vampires this time. You awkwardly looked to the side, not really wanting to meet their eyes as they fled the library, embarrassed to be caught.
Wednesday, for whatever reason, and against your expectations, didn’t seem to be affected by what she saw. She just went straight into searching for the book. Thing got out of her backpack and began searching as well, so you did too. You looked for anything purple that had the mark on the page Wednesday had.
"I keep seeing that same purple book," Wednesday said to thing after you showed her yet another shade of purple that didn’t match what she was looking for.
Apparently, Thing didn’t have much luck either. "The cover was darker, more like a day-old contusion, keep looking."
“That’s one way to describe a color,” you grinned at her, but before she could reply, if she was even going to reply, the doors opened and the two of you looked up to see Thornhill at the top of the stairs. Thing quickly hid behind the books.
"I don't usually find students in here looking for actual books," Thornhill said as she came down the stairs. "Most sneak in to make out."
"We accidentally walked in on two vampires fanging, I can't unsee that," Wednesday said and you looked away, rubbing the back of your neck.
“I’ll come back later, if you don’t mind,” you said, not really wanting to spend time with the woman. You couldn’t get the look in her eyes out of your head whenever you saw her. That look of fear she had when she saw you electrocuting Tyler and his friends on the previous Outreach day. It was barely stronger than a taser, but it could have been stronger, and no matter what was said or done your and Thornhill’s relationship was permanently and irrevocably damaged. Hence, why you didn’t pay attention to her classes and did the tests just well enough to pass them.
"Sorry about that, I'm afraid Y/N and I got off on the wrong foot," you heard Thornhill saying as you left the library.
A/N: So, I'm just gonna say it right now. In the middle of writing this chapter, I was struck with sudden inspiration and I skipped way ahead and wrote the ending scene. You are probably going to hate me when you read it. (No, Reader doesn't die, in case anyone considered that for a moment.) So, yeah, until next time, bye!
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thefloralmenace · 2 months
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There are so many arguments out there that need to just be shut down with "that's not how people behave."
Everyone gets so bound up in shoulds and shouldn'ts when sometimes it comes down to "Regardless of what people should do, that's not what they're going to do." And then shit doesn't go anywhere because people refuse to deal with the practicality of the situation.
Like I try to live zero-waste, and yeah, for the sake of the planet, people should try to reduce their waste, but even if you could get all your basic needs in waste-free packaging, there's still going to be little things you want even though you shouldn't buy them because the packaging isn't ecofriendly. And you know what? People are going to give in and buy those things every once in awhile if not all the time because people aren't perfect, and the brain is reward driven, so if the ice cream with the unrecyclable cheap plastic push-up bit is what the brain is craving, every so often, people are going to give in. But people get so bound up in shitting on each other for these perceived moral failings ("You really chose this ice cream cone over the Earth???") that we lose sight of things like "Perhaps we should legislate that products containing single-use plastics like the plastic push-up in this ice cream need to be made of bioplastics or another completely compostable material."
There are other examples of this that get politically nastier, ex: I don't believe people should have to engage in tone-policing in order to get people to listen to their issues and struggles, but I am also acutely aware that if I'm angry about someone's response to my advocating for a certain social issue, if I go into the comments all fire and fury at them, the great likelihood is that my reaction will just feed into their pre-existing bias that "people who advocate for ____ belief are crazy, mean, and uncompromising," and then they'll feel justified in shutting out everything I have to say just because I was mean to them. People should be able to accept and process a good point made to them in an unfriendly manner, but the reality is that there are a lot of people out there who are what I call "immature but not unsalvagable," i.e. If I'm hostile in my comments to them, they don't have the maturity/self-awareness to be like "Man, I should think about how what I said could have provoked this response in another person," but if I do take on the irritating and painstaking task of holding their hand through an explanation of the issue, they are capable of seeing my point and learning from it. Should I have to do that? No. But if I don't, will those people learn? Probably not. Are they inherently terrible human beings because of this? No, they're just not mature, but they still vote and make other decisions that affect me, so 🤷‍♀️I put in the effort to try to educate them in ways they can accept because if what I care about is results, it doesn't matter that I shouldn't have to take that approach.
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