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bamby0304 · 1 year

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The Hart III: Secrets

Ch.28: Carver Edlund

Series Masterlist

Summary: Three months… Dean was gone for three months and now he’s back. He’s back and he truly has no idea how much things have changed. Life moved on while Dean was in Hell, and now things are complicated. With new faces and troubles right around the corner, will the trio find a way to come back together? Or has all hope been lost?

Bamby

DPOV

The moment the man in front of me pulled his fingers away from where they'd been pressed to my forehead, it was like everything around me changed. Like the lighting dimmed a little as everything settled back into place.

"What the hell?" I frowned, looking around, confused... as I looked down at myself, the confusion only grew. "Why am I wearing a tie?" As if on cue, my stomach growled, pulling my attention to the fact that it felt like I hadn't eaten in weeks. "My God, am I hungry."

The man in front of me- who dressed in a suit which I was pretty sure would be more expensive than the one I was wearing- chuckled lightly. "Welcome back."

Standing up I looked him up and down, getting ready to be on the defensive. "Wait. Did I- did I just get touched by... you're an angel, aren't you?"

"I'm Zachariah."

I groaned, "Oh, great. That's all I need is another one of you guys."

He smirked at my response, moving around to stand on my side of the desk in the office we stood in. "I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things." He gestured to the body he was wearing. "But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row."

"I am not one of your ducks."

"Starting with your attitude," he added without missing a beat.

"Oh, so, what? This was all some sort of a lesson?" I gestured to the room, but was talking about everything I was remembering... though I wasn't sure if it had all been real or not. "Is that what you're telling me? Wow. Very creative."

"You should see my decoupage."

"Gross. No thank you." I frowned, genuinely grossed out, before going on. "So, what? I'm just hallucinating all this? Is that it?"

"Not at all." He shook his head, moving back to the other side of the desk. "Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories."

The last thing I remembered was being in the hospital. I mean, I remember the rest, but it's like it wasn't me. Three weeks ago, I woke up in an apartment I knew, with a life I fully believed was my own. I had a new job, a family, things felt pretty great. I was a happy guy.

But then people started dying at work. Most of them were suicides. Things started to get a little weird- especially after I met Sam a couple of days ago. We'd been working here for the same amount of time, but while I was some fancy office guy, he was a cubicle worker bee. We knew nothing of each other, but still managed to become friends pretty quickly.

We figured out what was happening to all the people who were dying. We figure out who the ghost was and why they were here. We learnt how to kill it- which we did. We saved the day just like we did in our normal lives, despite the fact that we were one hundred percent clueless as to who we really were.

I shook my head at Zachariah. "Just to shake things up? Hm? So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?" I snapped.

"To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it."

"Stop what? The apocalypse, huh?" I asked, getting worked up. I just wanted an answer already. "Lucifer? What? Be specific, man."

"You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it," he answered, without telling me what I actually wanted to know. Without telling me anything. "But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?"

"Angel or not, I will stab you in your face," I told him simply.

Ignoring me, he continued to speak. "All I'm saying is it's how you look at it. Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things." As I turned away he went on. "Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with women. This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sakes, Dean, quit whining about it." I turned back to him. "Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?"

SPOV

I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. I'd quit working at Sandover, walked out the front doors, and was hit with the memories of my real life. Just like that, I knew who I was. Only problem was, I had no idea how I'd gotten where I was.

The first thing I did was turn back around and ran inside, heading for Dean's office, hoping he'd be there and that he remembered too. But as the doors of the elevator opened, I came face to face with him and knew he remembered everything as well.

We both left then, getting in the car he'd been using during the three weeks that we hadn't been ourselves. As he drove, he explained to me what had actually happened to us. How the angels had erased our memories to prove a point. Then they'd told Dean where we could find the Impala and all our stuff- which is where we were headed.

We found the car parked in the middle of a forest, a tarp thrown over her. Sure enough, everything of ours was inside. Nothing appeared to have been touched. Though our phones had been dead. Needing to make sure everyone was okay and that we hadn't missed anything, we headed for the nearest diner where we could grab some food and charge our phones.

"So, this Zachariah guy just dumped us in the middle of a murder ghost hot spot, hoping that we'd figure out how to save the day?" I asked.

Dean shrugged, spooning a mouthful of pie onto his fork. "I mean, you even said it. It's in our blood," he noted.

He had a point. Even with all our memories missing, I still felt like we were destined for more. After we ganked the ghost, it was like I just knew that's what we were made for...

I reached for my phone and turned it on. The moment the light flashed on, I was bombarded with dozens of missed calls and messages from Bobby. Frowning, I checked some of the voice mails, hearing the worry in his voice. With each one he seemed to get more and more panicked. Then I heard the last one...

"I don't know where you boys are, but I need you to get here now. Lizzie... there's something wrong with her. I don't know what to-" The line cut off.

Grabbing my charger, bag and wallet, I threw some money on the table as Dean watched me with a confused frown. He hadn't checked his phone yet and had no idea about the missed calls and messages I was sure he'd have as well.

"Where are you goin'? We just got here," he noted with a mouth full of food.

"We gotta go. It's Lizzie."

That's all I had to say. Hearing the urgency in my voice, and seeing the concerned look on my face. Dean knew this wasn't some joke. He could see how serious this was. If Lizzie was in danger, we had to go and help. She was family.

Leaving his pie, he grabbed a napkin and stood, wiping his face quickly before throwing the napkin back on the table as we both left the diner in a rush.

DPOV

I was a fast driver. Sometimes Sam would scold me for it. I knew there were times where I would be a little too reckless just for the sake of having some fun, and it annoyed him. But at that moment, as I pressed my foot down as hard as I could, he didn't say a word.

We both knew we needed to get to Bobby's as soon as possible. It was a bit of a drive, but I wasn't going to let that slow us down. If Liz needed us, then we'd be there.

It was at that point, as I sped down the many roads, making our way to Bobby's, that I really wanted to rip the angels a new one. If they hadn't taken our memories away for their own purposes then Sam and I might have been able to be there for Liz and Bobby sooner.

It's their fault. Son of a bitch.

I was getting more and more worked up, the more I thought about it. My grip on the wheel tightened as I pressed my foot down even more.

We couldn't get there soon enough.

...

I slammed on the brakes as soon as we were at Bobby's. Dust and dirt picked up around Baby like a cloud, but Sam and I just ignored it as we hurried out of the car and towards the front door. Our feet pounded on the wooden boards of the porch, each of us lifting a hand to knock on the door with panicked force.

A moment or two later, the door opened. Bobby stood there, genuinely surprised to see both of us. But at the same time, he was equally relieved and annoyed.

"Where the hell have you two been?" he asked as he stepped back so Sam and I could enter the house.

"Long story-"

I cut Sam off, wanting to skip the pleasantries and get to the point, "Where's Liz?"

Bobby looked to each of us, an unreadable expression on his face as he gave a short nod and started for the stairs to head to the second story. Sam and I were right behind, saying nothing as we followed.

As we walked down the hall, Bobby stopped at a door.

When I was younger, Bobby use to take care of Sammy and I. A lot of the times we'd stay here. At first the room had been empty. Just some boxes in a corner. But one day, when I went to go look inside, it was suddenly locked. Since then, the door had never been opened.

When I was younger I thought it was because there might be something dangerous in there. As I got older I lost interest. If Bobby didn't want us to see something then he must have a good reason. But now, as he raised his hand to the open the door, I was surprised to see it open without a creak. The movement so smooth and silent...

Stepping inside, I found myself looking around at the unfamiliar room. Forest green walls, wooden dresser and chest of drawers. Books lined the shelves on the walls. A mirror sat above a dresser, with some photos framing it. White lace curtains sat on either side of the window. A wooden double bed with dark grey sheets sat under the window, and tucked under those sheets and blankets was Liz, fast asleep.

Just like that, it clicked. Nothing dangerous had been hiding in the room. Nothing sinister or creepy or weird. It had been locked for her privacy. Even when she hadn't lived here, when she'd gone off to hunt on her own, Bobby had kept the room locked.

"Sam called to tell me you were in the hospital," Bobby started as the three of us watched Liz, "I was about to go see you when that angel friend of yours showed up in the middle of my living room, with Lizzie. Her clothes were covered in blood, but she didn't look hurt. I didn't have time to ask any questions. The angel was gone as quickly as he showed up. I was still going to see you, but wanted to make sure she was okay first." He shook his head. "Last I heard she was with her boyfriend."

My jaw tensed at the reminder of her boyfriend. The reminder of the fact that he'd been lying, that he wasn't a hunter. I hadn't told anyone, yet, but the moment I was sure Liz was okay, I'd find out who that asshole really is.

As I stood there, I wondered where he might be. Why had Castiel been with her? Where was Tristan? Had something happened? Had they been hunting and something went wrong? Had he done something to her? Were they still together? Was he even still alive? So many questions...

"Once I was sure she was okay, I ended up leaving. Lizzie wanted to stay and get cleaned up. I told her I wouldn't be too long. When I got to the hospital both of you were gone. I waited and looked around for a day or so, tried callin' both of you, but you were missing. So, I headed back home. When I got back things still seemed to be fine, but I wanted to make sure. Decided to keep an eye on her.

"Spent a week with her here. Things went back to fine. Eventually I got word of a case, had to leave for a couple of days. We talked on the phone while I was away, but I could tell things were getting worse again. I don't know what happened, but when I got home I found her on the bathroom floor, passed out. Managed to get her to bed, but she didn't wake up for hours."

"You know what's wrong?" I asked, my concern growing with each word he said.

"Got no idea." Bobby shook his head. "She has good days and bad days. Most of the time she's fine. But..."

When he didn't say anything, I pressed for him to go on, "But what, Bobby?"

"I'm really worried about her. I just... I don't know what to do, boys."

EPOV

As I opened my eyes, I flinched at the light streaming into my room. It was like looking directly at the sun, though I knew that was just my body reacting to the withdrawals. I knew everything that was happening was because of that. It had been three weeks since I had demon blood, which hadn't been much, not to keep the withdrawal symptoms at bay long enough.

"Here."

I hadn't even realised someone else was in the room.

Dean stood from the chair that had apparently been set by my bed while I was asleep. Reaching over, he pulled the curtains closed, giving me instant relief. As he sat back down, he watched me carefully.

We were silent for a moment, just looking at each other. I knew he wanted to ask me a million questions, and I wanted to answer all of them. But he wasn't sure where to start and I wasn't sure if I should tell him anything...

"Hey."

A small smile played on my lips. "Hi."

"How are you feeling? You need anything?"

"I'm fine. But I do need something..." Wincing and hissing in pain, I managed to sit myself up, ignoring every ache in my body and throb in my head. "I need to get out of here."

"Liz, I don't think-"

"It's not a good idea. I agree. But Dean, nothing is going to make me feel better. There's just bad, and worse. Staying here, having you, Bobby and Sam worrying about me, is just going to make things worse. Getting out there, finding a distraction, it's the best thing for me right now."

I wasn't sure if that was true, and if I'm being honest, the idea of moving from my bed was a horrible idea. But I did know that staying here was not going to help me find Tristan and kill the asshole.

Yes, you heard right. I wanted to go out there, hunt, and do whatever it takes to find the asshole who did this to me, and kill him. Slowly.

"We don't even have a case-"

As I reached over to the drawer in my bedside table, Dean fell silent. He watched while I pulled out some articles, passing them to him. "Possible haunting. Looks like an easy gank."

Without a word, he took the papers and looked over them. Sighing, he turned his gaze back to me. "What if I say no?"

I gave him a small and knowing smile. "You won't."

DPOV

It took some convincing to get Bobby to let Liz leave with Sam and me. While I'd been in her room, Sam had filed Bobby in on what had happened to us. I guess finding out that the angels could go the same thing at any moment... I mean I understood why he didn't want Liz to go with us. Also, her hunting in this condition was not a good idea, even I knew that.

Yet here we were, dressed in out FBI suits, headed for a comic book store to find out if they'd seen or heard anything related to ghosts.

"Look, I know you said you're feeling fine-"

"Which I am," Liz insisted as I went on.

"But just take it easy. Okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean. I swear," she sighed, clearly annoyed.

Hurrying ahead, she walked into the comic book store without Sam and me. My brother and I shared a look, shaking our heads as we walked into to join her, moving to stand by the counter to talk to the guy at the cashier.

He looked up at us, his eyes glued to Liz. Every pair of eyes were. It was like they'd never seen a chick in here before... which they probably hadn't.

"Uh... can I help you?" the guy behind the counter asked.

"Sure hope so," I started as Sam, Liz and I pulled out our badges. "Agents DeYoung, Shaw and Gowen. Just need to ask you a few questions."

"Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?" Sam asked.

The guy looked confused. "Like what?"

"Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights," I noted.

"Uh, I don't think so. Why?"

"Have you heard any noises?" Liz questioned. "Skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?"

The guy's confusion grew into scepticism. "And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?"

Ignoring his snark, Sam went on. "What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?"

Slowly, as if realising something, the guy began to grin. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?"

It was my turn to frown, confused. "Excuse me?"

"You're fans."

"Fans of what?" Sam asked, equally confused.

"What is 'LARPing'?" I looked to Liz. "Do you know what 'LARPing' is?"

Before she could say anything, the guy behind the counter scoffed. "Like you don't know." But when we all continued to look at him with silent confusion, he explained what it was, "Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys and that chick from the books. What are they called? Uh... Supernatural. Two guys and a girl, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steve, Dirk and Lexi...? Uh, Sal, Dane and Lilly...?"

Sam glanced at Liz and I for a moment before suggesting, "Sam, Dean, and Lizzie?"

The guy nodded enthusiastically. "That's it!"

"You're saying this is a book?" This was weirding me out and not helping with the confusion...

"Books," the guy corrected. "It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." Getting up, he moved around the counter and towards a table labelled 'Bargain Bin'. Sam, Liz and I followed, tense and unsure. "Let's see. Um... ah. Yeah." He grabbed a book and handed it over to me. "That's the first one, I think."

I looked at the cover of the book- which had an illustration of a topless guy holding a shot gun, and a guy carrying a bag of salt, standing by what looked like the Impala. "'Supernatural' by Carver Edlund." Turning it over, I read the blurb out loud. "'Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths'."

"Give me that." Sam snatched the book from my hands to take a look. After a quick scan, he looked up at the guy. "We're gonna need all the copies of 'Supernatural' you've got."

EPOV

I sat on the couch in the hotel room I was sharing with Sam and Dean. Sam was on the computer at the table, doing some research. Dean was on his bed while I was on the couch, the two of us reading the books we'd gotten from the comic bookstore. At first, I thought it was amusing, reading Sam and Dean's lives... But when I showed up in the books, things got less funny. I felt very violated.

"This is freakin' insane," Dean suddenly spoke up, clear annoyed. "How'd this guy know all this stuff?"

Sam shrugged. "You got me."

"Everything is in here," Dean noted, flicking through one of the books. "I mean everything. From the racist truck to… to me having sex. I'm full-frontal in here, dude."

"I am too," I added.

Dean sat up and turned to me. "You are?" He sounded both pissed and interested. As if he wanted to read to but he didn't like the idea of other's reading it.

"Yep," I sighed, tossing him the book I'd been reading, as I got up and moved to sit at the table with Sam. "Like you said, everything is in these books." Even things the guys didn't know about…

Dean- holding he book I'd tossed him- stood and moved over to join Sam and me. "How come we haven't heard of them before?"

"They're pretty obscure," Sam noted. "I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh… started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one, No Rest for The Wicked," he turned the laptop towards Dean and me, showing us a list of the books, "ends with you going to hell," he told Dean.

"I reiterate. Freaking insane," Dean mumbled as he started to scroll through the page. "Check it out. There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. He didn't seem as excited as Dean suddenly was.

"Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this. Simpatico says 'the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic'," Dean read. "Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it."

"Yeah. Well, keep on reading." Sam gestured to the laptop. "It gets better."

"There are 'Sam girls' and 'Dean girls' and..." Dean's brows furrowed. "What's a 'slash fan'?"

"As in... Sam-slash-Dean," Sam answered, a look of discomfort and disgust on his face. "Together."

"Like, 'together', together?" Dean asked, equally grossed out.

"Wait, what?" Grabbing the laptop, I took a look, cringing at the words before me. "Okay, gross..."

"Yeah," Sam sighed.

"They do know we're brothers, right?" Dean asked, genuinely disturb.

"Doesn't seem to matter," Sam noted.

"Oh, come on. That... that's just sick." Dean shut the laptop in disgust.

"They even have 'Sambeth girls' and 'Dizzie girls'." when Dean and I looked at Sam confused, but also afraid of what that meant, he explained. "Sambeth is a mix of Sam and Elizabeth. Dizzie, Dean and Lizzie. And then there's... 'Dean, Lizzie and Sam girls'."

I looked to both brothers, eyes going wide. "You mean... together? All three of us?"

Dean shook his head. "We got to find this Carver Edlund."

Sam sighed again. "Yeah, that might not be so easy."

"Why not?" Dean and I asked at the same time.

"No tax records, no known address," Sam answered, shifting in his seat to lean forward a bit more. "Looks like 'Carver Edlund' is a pen name."

Dean shook his head. "Somebody's gotta know who he is."

Bamby

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #elizabeth rose hart #the hart #the hart iii #the hart iii secrets

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m0tel6mxzzy · 1 year

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♡ layla ༄ buffalo 66 headcanons

layla comes from an affluent family. her parents pay for her dance lessons, hence why she can afford them. she also comes from a large family and is the second eldest out of five siblings. she has an older brother who left to god knows where that she never got along with, and the two younger siblings (two fraternal twin girls around 11 years old) who are paid much more attention than her despite their long work hours

layla adores her younger siblings but isn’t really as close with them because she was often busy with extracurriculars and had little time to spend with them. they’re also often closer with each other than she ever was with her brother, so she’s a little jealous of them

layla’s dad is a lawyer, layla’s mother is a nurse, and both of them are rarely home. they put layla into an all girls private school that required her from a young age to have many extracurriculars. layla’s life with them is usually reduced to phone calls. she cannot play an instrument to save her life because she’s very shaky with her hands, but dance is something she is good at. so the few times she can contact them, she tells them how well dance is going.

“can i have a rum and coke” i like to think layla was incredibly sheltered before she met billy, and not necessarily happy, and most of the people she was surrounded with were well off and could afford fancy things. she grew up being asked what she wanted materially, but had it assumed for her emotionally.

her parents are emotionally distant, and seeing that behavior drives layla to please others to avoid conflict. anything like her car, which she doesn’t clean as much and before billy wasn’t scrutinizing her for, is something she does not feel the need to please others over. she often forgets certain responsibilities when they aren’t going to be paid attention to and affect how others perceive her.

layla never really left her house except to go to dance lessons, school, or water her garden. her family had a nanny who could do it, but layla would offer to do it herself because it made her feel good to apply herself and be around nature. it’s large square of blue hydrangeas and there’s a peach tree.

she’s allergic to pork, and because it makes her face swell up, break out, and make her nauseous which is why she doesn’t eat meat whatsoever

her room is a lilac blue mess filled with every single stuffed animal, drawing, and trinket she’s ever owned, and had a huge obsession with lambs as a child. she does not clean it until her parents

she hates blueberries because can’t stand them in muffins, strawberries are her favorite fruit

i think her parents often threw money at their problems, and thought that could replace emotional bonding. they equated money and security with live, and sometimes upon upsetting her, would buy her and her siblings things rather than apologizing

she frequents a local strip mall + pricey second hand clothing store, and that’s where she gets all her clothes

she owns an expensive tea cup set that’s been passed down from her family. despite it belonging to has as a gift from her grandma, she never uses it because her parents never allowed her to, as it would “ruin the display”

layla was incredibly popular in school. the phrase “you are what people tell you” rings true for her, but she never felt anyone was truly her friend. the people in her social social circle were mostly girls who spoke of boyfriends.

layla had never been in a relationship before billy, but had always felt sort of stuck out from her peers because she was also into girls and it was mostly something she never felt understood in

she leaves billy for a woman (she needs a name lol. kennedy her name is kennedy, but layla calls her ken) who, upon telling her about how she met billy and the nature of their relationship, tells her how toxic that is. they initially argue over it and layla is incredibly defensive of him, but maintain contact as friends for weeks before layla eventually decides to take her car and leave billy.

it is incredibly hard for her, because over the course of their relationship his temperament has changed but she knows given his toxicity, anything could happen and her safety around him will not last.

she eventually starts living with kennedy temporarily, and they work at a movie theater together. kennedy and layla could not dress and look more different, as kennedy has this whole “joan jett” look going on but admired layla’s cutesy style.

she realizes she’s in love with kennedy and tells her this, and kennedy is sort of the person to not have romantic feelings for someone until told they have have feelings for her. they date. they go on lovely little picnics and layla makes her cute little flower crowns and jewelry.

layla eventually spends one weekend a month driving back home to her family to see her siblings. she sees them once a month, introduces them to kennedy, and kennedy at one point convinces her brother to call her so they can repair their estranged relationship

#i spent two hours on this lmao 😭😭😭#i love layla so much i made an oc for her. damn #i love her and we never get to know much abt her #layla #buffalo 66 #90s #headcanons #christina ricci

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stylishanachronism · 3 years

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CAED NUA HAS AN ORANGERY

#pillars of eternity meta #that's it that's the post #this is actually canon? like legitly #don't ask how we got here I don't know how we got here #that's a lie I know how we got here I just don't understand why #anyways #so one of the stronghold upgrades is the botanical garden #except the period meaning of the term was 'greenhouse but with more trees'#they were very fancy and expensive and you grew all sorts of things in them #like citrus and cinnamon #the term changed meanings ~18th c when they started building shit like the poison garden #so a greenhouse was a greenhouse and an orangery was a greenhouse specifically for citrus hence the name #obviously there is more to this but I'm not getting into it it's late and I have bones go ouch syndrome #but the moral of the story is there is probably a giant heist epic about stealing baby cinnamon trees from rautai #and that's why cinnamon is a super common ingredient #(unrelated it turns out cinnamon is like... stupid easy to grow? so maybe I will plant a tree and grow even more of my own spices)

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sinner-as-saint · 3 years

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Wreck My Plans.

Mob!Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: Taking time off work, you come back to your hometown for the holiday season, and you decide to go clubbing with a few friends. There, in the middle of the dark, loud room your eyes meet with a pair of familiar blue ones. Ones which you never thought you’d see again after so many years. There he was, your ex-boyfriend; Bucky Barnes.

Themes: mob!bucky, smut, fluff,

a/n: i missed my Sin Army. Happy evermore day. And to my Marvel fam, how we doin’ after those trailers?!

Time stopped.

One minute the music was deafening and the next, you couldn’t even hear it. All you could focus on was your current, erratic heartbeat as you stared into a pair of stormy, blue eyes. They looked darker and much more mesmerizing than you remember.

His name echoed in your head as a smile formed on your face. Bucky.

The smile on his face mimicked yours as he walked over to you at the bar, crossing the ocean of drunk people swaying to the music. Amongst the crowd he crossed, were some of your friends who ditched you just minutes ago to go have fun with a pair of dudes they met just upon entering the club.

You could join them, but rubbing your body against a stranger’s sweaty body was not what you intended to do tonight so you stayed back at the bar.

Good thing you did so, else you wouldn’t have noticed Bucky on the other side of the room.

You smiled a little brighter once he stood in front of you. Very, very well dressed in his dark suit.

“Is it really you?” he spoke, teasing you right away. Just like he used to.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at him, mainly to hide your nervousness as you realized how much deeper his voice had gotten. Or how much more attractive he was. He had always been a hottie, now even more so. Muscular and tall, even with the suit on you could tell he had a body to die for.

You and Bucky broke up right after graduating high school. You moved for uni while he stayed behind and joined his family business. It wasn’t a messy break up, just two 18-year-olds deciding to end a relationship and focus on their futures.

You finished college a few years later then moved again, for your dream job. And now, almost 7 years later, you were back in your hometown for the holidays for the first time in a long time.

“It is. How have you been, Buck?”

He smiled and took the seat right beside you. “Great.” he wasn’t lying. “You?”

You let out a little laugh. “Are we seriously gonna do the whole work and the weather thing?” you asked, and he laughed.

Oh how you had missed his laugh. It’s been years since you saw him, but everything about him was so familiar it hurt. The way his eyes closed when he smiled or laughed too hard. The blue in his eyes, the crinkles by them. The perfect shape of his nose which you always teased him for.

Everything about him reminded you of a simpler, happier time of your life.

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds, then smiled in nostalgia. “You’re just as pretty.”

You rolled your eyes again, casually ignoring the sparks which flew in between you two.

“Oh please. Enough about me, what about you? You’re quite the talk of the town I heard.” It was true, they were saying all sorts of things about him ever since you came home. No one knew where he lived, whether he was in town currently or no - he was, you just confirmed it a few minutes ago.

“Yeah? What have you heard so far?” he spoke with a smirk on. Words didn’t affect him anymore.

You raised an eyebrow. “So the rumors are true?”

He chuckled, and signaled the bartender to bring him a drink. You watched each of his actions cautiously. Everything about him screamed power. His stance, his movements, his poise. You had heard around that his dad’s business was doing poorly years ago and he turned to some shady stuff. And he dragged his son along. Something about mob, gangs and illegal stuff. You had trouble believing it at first, because you knew him. You knew Bucky and you couldn’t imagine someone as gentle as him being associated with this side of life.

But the smirk he gave you proved all those rumors and theories to be true.

“Oh,” you wondered why you didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. “Well, it suits you.” You scanned him quickly and wondered where you got the confidence to do that.

You were right, it did suit him. The power, the mean yet magnetic demeanor, the way he could get absolutely everyone to stare at him in awe and fear - truly, it did suit him.

He smiled and took a sip of his drink, then placed his glass down. “You should be running for the hills, not complimenting me. Is that what your strict, conservative father taught you?” The last part was an inside joke so he couldn’t hide his smile.

You shook your head. Bucky and your dad never gelled well. Ever. “Leave dad out of this, he still hates you by the way.” your words made him chuckle at some memories. “So now what, you have gangs and guns and stuff?” you asked.

“Yeah I’m kind of the bad guy around here.”

You laughed. He stared at you in complete awe and he couldn’t help but smile. He felt it too, the pull or sparks or whatever it was that was preventing him from looking away. Like as though something had tied him to you and he couldn’t get away and he definitely didn’t want to.

“You’re here with someone?” he asked, looking around and hoping you’d say no because he hated the thought of you being here with another man. Which was weird because he was meeting you for the first time in years, yet he was already feeling so protective.

And that skin-tight coral dress you were wearing wasn’t helping either.

“With some girl friends,” you replied and he quietly let out a sigh of relief, “But it seems they’re nowhere to be found.” You looked around and couldn’t see them. They were wild party animals anyways.

Bucky smiled and got up from his seat, extending his arm out for you to take. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.”

You took the last sip of your wine and took his hand. You let him guide you to the back of the club. “You know the owners?” you asked, seeing he was so comfortable in the space. He chuckled.

“I am the owner, doll.” he answered in that cocky, velvety voice of his. And that nickname, that damn nickname brought back so many memories; they came flooding back in like it was no one’s business.

The first time he kissed you. Prom. That road trip you took together. All the ones you planned but couldn’t take. All the times you snuck out of the house to hang out at his place. The one time you got caught and how your dad almost lost his shit completely. The time you had your biggest fight and didn’t talk for two whole days. How he apologized first for that one.

You remembered everything.

He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his slick, black car. He was quiet when he got into the driver’s seat. But the silence was comfortable, like the kind you have around your closest friends and family; where you’re just happy with sharing space and air, just knowing the other is here and not having the need to fill the silence with useless talks. The kind of silence which spoke louder than words ever could. Comforting, and warm.

He pulled into the entrance of a private property and your eyes widened for a brief moment. “You live here? This is your home?” you asked, a little surprised at the grandeur of the mansion in front of you, which grew bigger and bigger as you approached it.

“One of my houses, yes.” he replied, cocky as always.

You playfully scoffed. “Showoff.” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear and laugh at.

He got out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. You rolled your eyes at his antics, “You don’t have to do all that, you know?” you teased.

He chuckled and casually reached down to hold your hand in his as he guided you over to the front door. It was chilly out, so he walked a little faster. “Oh come on, I know I’m the bad guy now but I'm chivalrous enough to treat my ex-girlfriend right.” he played along, knowing exactly which word would get a reaction out of you.

“Ouch.” you pretended to be hurt. He laughed as he ushered you into his home.

The first thing you noticed were the guards. Then the extravagant foyer which led to the equally extravagant living room. The color theme, the lovely smell of the house, there was something about it which was so familiar, yet you couldn’t place a finger on it.

“You have a beautiful home, Buck.” you looked around and noticed that the guards had left.

He smiled and let go of your hand, letting you walk around his personal space for a bit. He could get used to this, the thought popped into his head out of nowhere. He could get used to seeing you in his home.

“Come on up, you’ll love the library.” he spoke and extended his arm out again. You took his hand and he led you up the large, fancy wooden stairs.

He was right. You did immediately fall in love with his library/study room. It was everything one dreams of. Spacious, yet cosy. Modern, but with a vintage twist. The right amount of light, but not too much. It was beautiful.

You walked a few steps further and started noticing the little things; like the mini bar, the unused typewriter on the desk, the scattered papers next to it, the chandelier which made the room look magical.

“This is beautiful.” you commented as you lazily skimmed through the books on the shelves. You heard him move around glasses in the background.

“Thank you.” he paused, pouring himself a drink. “You want a drink?”

You turned to face him for a brief moment. He had taken off his coat, leaving him in his very expensive looking black shirt. “Sure.” you answered, then you turned back around to check out the books and you could feel him staring at your back. You smirked as not so holy thoughts filled your head.

How would tonight end? You wondered.

You walked over to his desk and plopped down on his large seat. He walked over as well, placing your glass down and leaning against the edge of the table, staring down at you with a smirk on and a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite understand.

“What?” you laughed as you took a sip of the liquor. It was smooth, and sweet and left an amazing aftertaste in your mouth as it slid down your throat, burning just a little. It tasted expensive.

“Nothing.” He replied, softly as he eyed you carefully. “I just can’t believe you’re here, after all this time.”

You smiled and looked up at him. “Things changed, haven’t they? I mean, the Bucky I knew hated whiskey and brandy. He liked cheap beers and vodka.” you pointed out.

Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes, shoving a hand in his pocket out of habit. Suddenly he looked much younger and very boyish. “He changed, Y/N.”

This was the first time he used your name tonight and you felt funny inside. The good kind of funny.

“Mhmm.” you agreed. “He got meaner.” you teased and stood up from the seat, and looked past him. Right by the couches, was a small coffee table upon which something shiny caught your attention. And being the curious being you are, you walked right over without a second thought.

“You think?” he sounded playful as he watched you walk over to the coffee table where his guns were kept. He doesn’t usually leave them out in the open like this but he was cleaning them earlier so he left them there.

Bucky watched how you picked one up and examined it.

“Yeah,” you spoke up without taking your eyes off the hand gun. “He got dangerous.” You weirdly liked how it felt in your hands. A little heavier than you thought it would be.

He was surprised at how comfortable you were with this side of him. Another woman would turn the other way and would run. But not you. “Be careful with that, doll.” he warned you softly. “They’re all loaded.”

You smirked as you placed the gun down and picked up another. And you sensed him tensing up where he stood.

“Don’t touch that one.” he said calmly. You frowned.

“Why not?” you asked.

He placed his glass down and walked over to you. “I’ve done bad things with that one. I’ve hurt bad people.”

You knew your way around a gun. Your father used to hunt as a hobby so you knew the gun was locked. But just for the hell of it, you aimed it at him and smirked. “Yeah? I think I like this new Bucky a lot better.”

He smirked, loving the fact that the city didn’t diminish your spunk. He realized then that you were still the same girl he fell for in highschool. “Careful.” he warned again, giving you a soft smile. Seeing you like this made him want to do bad things to you. He felt hot as he watched you aim a gun at him. He didn’t know why.

“Scared?” you teased, loving the reaction you got out of him. The buzz of the wine earlier and the whiskey just now amplified your confidence and you loved it.

Oh fuck you looked hot. It made it hard for him to focus on anything else. “Put it down, Y/N.” he kept his devilishly handsome smirk on. You held your ground and it made him groan and roll his eyes. He approached you and you giggled. He carefully took the gun from you and placed it back down on the table, then without another word said, he circled his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Good girls don’t play with those. You used to be so obedient, what happened?” he teased.

You smirked, finding his body heat really comforting. “I’ve changed.” you purposely repeated his own words, then added, “Maybe I’m not such a good girl anymore.” you purred. He clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly.

“Don’t tease me baby girl. I’m not as nice as I used to be.” his words made you all hot and bothered.

You smirked. “Prove it.”

And just like that, with one look of his, you were under his spell. He smirked and leaned in, purposely avoiding your lips as he gently kissed his way along your jaw. You shivered when his lips touched your neck; leaving soft kisses along the side of your throat while his hand wrapped tighter around your waist.

He made you whimper and whine, you could feel him smirk against your skin. He pulled away after a while, and held your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, and he looked into your eyes with an intensity which made your body tingle. His thumb soon moved up to touch your soft lips gently. He traced the shape of your mouth and spoke, “I’ve missed you.” he looked down at you softly.

Your lips parted as he trailed his fingers down your chin, down your neck before he gently wrapped his fingers around your throat, applying just a bit of pressure there. You smirked as you looked up at him. “Not so sassy now, are we?” he sounded cocky and in control, just how you liked him.

And suddenly all those years which had gone by didn’t mean a thing. You picked up right where you left off. The spark was still there.

“Buck… please,” you whined under your breath. Oh how he had missed this…

He chuckled. “Come here, baby girl.” he walked a few steps backwards and plopped down on the couch, pulling you onto his lap where you fit perfectly. A soft, unexpected moan left your lips as he slipped his hand under your dress and inched higher and higher up your leg, and caressed your inner thigh as he went.

He smirked when you moaned and kept going. He leaned in to kiss your jaw and down your neck; his stubble brushing against your skin gently. His lips warm and soft as they peppered your skin with kisses, making you instinctively tilt your neck to give him easier access. He chuckled when you visibly trembled as his knuckles brushed against the front of the flimsy thong you were wearing. He couldn’t wait to tear it off your body.

His need to have you grew with each passing moment. Hot, fiery, burning desire. Bucky slipped his hand past your underwear and touched your wet folds, his two fingers circling around your clit, “You’re dripping, doll.” He chuckled as you moaned when he slowly pushed a finger past your entrance. Then another and started gently pumping them in and out of you.

Your body throbbed. You whined, throwing your head back and letting him do whatever he wanted with your body.

Bucky looked up at you in pure adoration as he placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and brushed it occasionally while he finger-fucked you; your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand; his fingers touched you in all the right places; curling just right and massaging your walls perfectly. His other hand gently wrapped around your neck; not squeezing yet but just holding you firmly.

You got a little louder as he sped up; his fingers slipping in and out of you with ease and eliciting sounds which turned you on even more. Seeing you were whining and whimpering already, Bucky moved his hand from your throat and pushed two fingers into your mouth; slowly pumped those two as well; an obscene attempt to keep you quiet.

Your mouth immediately wrapped around his fingers. And he swore under his breath again at the sight of you so salacious and open; his fingers buried in your wet core, slipping in and out of you rapidly while his other two fingers were buried into your warm mouth. The sounds you made alone were enough to make his pants feel tighter; and make him want to devour you even more. You moaned when he sped up again; his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet, almost agonizing pressure forming in between your hips. You felt a rush and a warmth washing over you; intensified by his tight grip at your throat.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll?” he asked, leaning in to just bite your lip; not kissing you properly but just biting down and nibbling on your lower lip and making you go crazy. You whined in pleasure and nodded. He sped up again; and you rolled your hips against his hand in a haze – chasing your orgasm; moaning and whimpering. “Cum for me, come on, babygirl.” He encouraged you and tightened his grip around your throat just a little bit more.

You let the familiar waves of pleasure wash over you as you came all over his fingers; crying out loud in pleasure. Gushing out all over his hand as he kept pumping them in and out of you, getting everything he could out of you. Once satisfied, he removed his hand from your underwear and pulled his hand back from your throat and wrapped both his arms around you and pulled you closer to him, causing your sensitive core to brush against his crotch. And you could feel his erection.

“You have no idea how bad I’ve missed you, baby girl.” He whispered against your parted lips. “I searched for you, but I couldn’t find a way to get to you.”

“Buck…” your hands reached up to cup his face and you pulled away just a little to look down at him. “I’m here.” you whispered, breathless still.

He wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. He finally pressed his lips to yours and kissed you like there’s no tomorrow; there was nothing gentle or innocent about the kiss, just hunger and passion and pure craving. His soft lips moved perfectly against yours through the messy kiss. He moaned through the kiss when you slid your hands into his hair and tugged on it gently. His hands rested on the curve of your ass; holding you close to him as he gently pulled away from the kiss and stared into your eyes.

He gripped your waist and pressed your cloth core onto his, making you grind against him; causing you to feel his hard on through his pants. You almost moaned at how big and firm he felt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your body shuddered as a wave of pleasure washed over you while you shamelessly rocked your hips ever so gently against his clothed hard on. He smirked at your involuntary actions.

“Fuck… I need to have you. Now.” he growled before pushing you down on the couch and hovering on top of you. He purposely pressed his crotch down in between your parted legs, making you moan at how fucking big he felt. “You feel that?” he breathed into your ear and made you shiver at how deep his voice sounded. You could almost feel the lust in his voice. “You did that, babygirl.” He pulled away from your face a little to look at you, smirking.

He kissed his way down your body, sliding your dress down your body while at it. You felt his mouth in between your thighs. Your back arched off the surface of the couch as his tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit and licked down, parting your wet folds with ease.

Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it gently as he flicked his tongue over your clit over and over again. His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin incessantly, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of.

His deep blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. You came violently all over Bucky’s tongue, body shuddering and shaking while you moaned his name out loud. It gave him a pleasant rush when he heard your strained voice moan out his name.

He kissed your inner thighs, licking you clean before kissing his way up your body and finding your lips again. He kissed you with ardor; eager to just be inside you already and make you squirm and shake under him, but he also wanted to cherish each moment and worship your body. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goosebumps wherever his fingers touched your skin.

He pulled away for a bit and grabbed both your wrists and pinned them down on the couch above your head. “Keep your hands there for me, baby girl.” He mumbled under his breath and lifted his hips to align his erected cock to your entrance. You instinctively spread your legs apart to give him more room. His hand reached down and he pumped his cock, rubbing it all over your dripping core in the process. You squirmed and moaned when he did so; the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your wet lips, parting them as he circled your clit gently. You shuddered under him; whining in need. Your body begging him to just take you already.

“Look at me.” He almost moaned as he whispered a little breathlessly, looking intensely into your eyes. The dimmed lights made his eyes look darker than usual, and his face looked dangerously handsome. His voice was deep – which caused the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him. You heard his ragged breaths as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back the sound which escaped your lips. “Fuck…” was all you were able to mutter under your breath as he pulled out of you completely, then pushed back into you again; filling you up entirely.

He sped up just a little, rocking his hips against yours and his hand reached up to wrap around your neck gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth. You could only nod senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you. His lips left your mouth and kissed down your face. You let out a moan as he found your sweet spot, and felt him smirk against your skin. You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

You could no longer keep your hands off him so you reached out and held onto his shoulders; your nails digging into his skin as you felt a pressure forming around your lower region. Bucky quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room.

The dim light made his eyes look even more piercing than usual. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The new position was much more pleasurable for the two of you; the tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off the couch – your chest pressing against his partially unbuttoned shirt; his body heat radiating through the fabric.

You moaned out loud and he very gently tightened his grip around your throat. His voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. He somehow sounded needy but in control at the same time, and it drove you crazy. You felt your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

“Cum for me, babygirl. Come on.” he panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard.

You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core. Bucky fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and shamelessly told you about it; whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him – wet and warm all for him. You moaned as you felt your second release approaching while the first was still fading. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him.

A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. His large frame hovering above you as he tightened his grip around your throat just a little more. “Cum for me again, come on.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him.

A series of cuss words left your lips as you came for the second time in a row, walls tightening around his length. He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you before slowing down again.

He kissed you again, while you tried to steady your breathing and calm your racing heart. He chuckled when he pulled away to look at how disheveled and messy you were all because of him. His hand left his throat and his thumb traced your lips again, he was mesmerized by how much of a whimpering, tear-stained mess you were.

“It’s okay doll, I’m right here.”

---

You woke up in his bed.

And the flashbacks of the time spent there hit you immediately.

You felt his arms around you as you peaked from under the blanket to try and reorient yourself. The room was brighter. You checked the time and it was around ten in the morning.

Well, there goes that family breakfast you promised your parents.

You felt Bucky stir in his sleep behind you. He peeled one eye open and smiled at the sight of you still in his bed.

“Morning baby girl,” he said in a deep, groggy morning voice which made your heart flip.

“I have plans with my family, you know? You’re just, shamelessly wrecking them.” You teased and watched how his smirk grew. His arm tightened around your body, under the covers. His touch was warm and gentle as he tugged you closer to his equally warm body.

Your bare chest pressed against his and you looked up and stared into his blue eyes. They were so dreamy you still couldn’t believe they were real.

“Oh please. Admit it, you like it better here with me rather than being confined in that old man’s house.” He rolled his eyes as he mentioned your dad.

You giggled. Him and your dad always hated each other.

“Imagine what he’d say once he finds out I’ve been hanging out with the bad guy. Again.” You played along.

Bucky laughed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’ll deal with him. I’d do anything for you.” he whispered softly, the last part even more so.

Your heart did that thing where it felt like it was bursting into a millions little pieces in the best ways. The butterflies in your stomach went wild at the sound of his morning voice. You looked up at him and then leaned in to kiss his neck softly.

“I missed you, you know?”

“Hmm, I know.”

You giggled and hugged him tighter. “What now?” you asked, thinking about what would happen two weeks from now, when you’d have to get back to the city.

His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I was planning on expanding my… business to another city. How is it over there?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face as he waited for your reaction.

Your eyes widened as you quickly pulled away and sat up on his bed with a shocked look on your face. “You’re moving?”

He smiled at you. “I’ll go wherever you go at this point. I just got you back, I'm not giving up on us this time.”

“Are you sure about this? Our lives… they’re so different.” you looked down at your lap as you spoke. “Will we make it?”

He sat up and leaned against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap, caging you in his arms. “Oh we will.” Then he looked past you for a brief moment, out the floor-to-ceiling windows. He noticed the snow falling delicately. It was truly beautiful, but nothing matched how pretty you looked - messy hair, swollen lips, love bites all over your skin.

He leaned in to kiss you, then whispered against your lips. “We will make it doll, don’t you worry. Just trust me.”

a/n: ily.

#bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes au #marvel #Sebastian Stan

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ichorai · 3 years

Text

pearls and pastries ; j.jk

pairing ; pirate!jungkook x baker!reader (gender-neutral)

summary ; a crew of pirates have been pilfering your village for several weeks now and one particularly keen buccaneer has stopped by your bakery practically every visit; whether it be for the delectable pastries or for the sweet baker he's taken an interest to, jungkook couldn’t say. but there’s a catch - the baker doesn’t know that he’s a pirate.

themes ; fantasy, angst, fluff, pining, slight action, pirate au, baker au, medieval au

words ; 3.6k

warnings / includes ; descriptions of weaponry, stealing (from the rich), jungkook being a sad lovesick sap, pirate!bts, poetic sadness but when do i not do angst lmfao everything i touch turns into written sorrow </3

a/n ; written for the @ficscafe fic exchange event for @sunshinerainbowsbts !! i hope you like it <3 i'm definitely considering writing a part two to this :D

Jungkook wasn’t quite fond of parrots. Well, his mislike wasn’t necessarily directed towards the multi-hued rotund bird itself, but the fact that the wretched thing was squawking out a poor rendition of what Jungkook had announced earlier whilst clambering down the crow’s nest.

“I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery!” the winged devil screeched from atop Jimin’s shoulder, ruffling its bright feathers as if taunting him.

Shooting it the nastiest of scowls, Jungkook reached behind his head to untie the vermilion bandana holding his overgrown locks away from his narrowed eyes. “You better shut that bird up before I toss it to the sharks, Jimin.”

“If I let you do that, I’d also have to throw you overboard. The both of you are equally annoying,” the other pirate snorted in contempt, glancing up at his younger friend striding across the ship before moving his gaze back to the knapsack he was emptying for the pilfer. Out fell several empty bottles of rum, a few gold pieces glinting in the harsh midday sun, two jewel-encrusted daggers, and a worn eyepatch that suspiciously looked to be the same as the one Yoongi always wore over his left eye. “You seem to forget that we’re here to steal from the rich, not buy fancy breads! You’re lucky that Namjoon has half the decency not to kick you off the boat. Jin, however fond he is of you, still calls you a moocher.”

Rouge faintly dusted across Jungkook’s cheekbones as he coughed into his fist, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I steal stuff sometimes,” he muttered under his breath. It was useless to defend himself against someone who saw straight through him.

“Sometimes, my foot!” Jimin scoffed, hiking the bag over his shoulders. “Bringing back a goblet you found rolling down the street doesn’t count, you know that, right?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky, far too stubborn to admit that Jimin was right. With not another word, the young pirate clambered off of the large vessel and onto the rickety docks, grunting upon landing. It didn’t bother him much that Jimin was irked at his lack of contribution. They were rich enough as it is; what was the rush?

The air was tangy with sea salt and damp wood as he inhaled a deep breath, setting off for your bakery. Walking there took exactly three hundred and seventy two steps. Jungkook had memorized the shortest route to your little shop, mumbling the numbers under his breath with a growing grin blossoming across his lips. He subconsciously rolled the sleeves of his white tunic down, the fabric concealing the pirate tattoos inked all over his arms.

When the youthful sea wolf stepped foot into your store, a familiar chiming of the bell hooked atop the door echoed across the cream-walled room. At the reverberating sound, your head peeked out from the kitchen situated in the back. An illuminating beam danced on your features, eyes lighting up with mirth at the sight of Jungkook.

It made the muscle within his chest slam against his ribcage, desperate to be freed from its confines because it belonged to you, and only you. He wasn’t quite sure when the sudden fixation for the village baker his crew was stealing from started, but he had acclimated to his own change of heart by visiting you as often as he could.

“Fancy seeing you here today. Are you coming in or are you now my human door stopper?” Your heavenly voice floated towards Jungkook, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sheepish, he shuffled inside, engulfed by the warm scents of chocolate cakes, powdered pastries, caramelized fruits, and toasted almonds. His stomach gave an impatient snarl at the sight of tempting desserts. You had also walked to the front of the counter, dusting your flour covered hands on an apron. Some of the white powder had managed to smudge on your cheek, and Jungkook had to resist the urge to reach over and thumb it away.

“Hi,” he said with the brightest of grins. “I’ve missed you.”

At his bold statement, you suppressed a chortle. “I think you missed those chocolate cream puffs you like so much, not me. What’ve you been up to while you were gone?”

Jungkook hesitated at that. For the short amount of time he’d been visiting you, not once had he mustered the courage to tell you of his true origins. A savage pirate like him shouldn’t even be around the likes of you. You had no idea that he was part of the crew that was robbing your village, and the very thought of you finding out had him terrified. You were a taste of all the goodness in the world, and Jungkook was afraid you’d crumble into ash if he dared touch you. The sinner had no rights touching an angel, after all.

“Visiting family,” he hummed, quick to move on. If you noticed his strange demeanor, you didn’t say anything. For that, Jungkook was grateful. “I brought something for you.”

There was something about your smile that seemed to expel any and all feelings of gloom in a room. Jungkook was no exception to this feat, his knees almost buckling against the soft pink counters. He righted himself by leaning his elbows on top and propping his chin up with a palm. Gods, he didn’t know he was in this deep.

“Oh?” you set your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. “To what do I owe such pleasures?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “For those cream cheese tarts you made me last time I visited. Thought I’d repay you.” Whilst saying this, he used his free hand to reach into his back pocket, fishing out a string of authentic pearls, adorned with a glimmering clasp of gold the same hue as the sun.

Your smile melted into a confused pucker, brows knitting together in a muted painting of hesitance, yet you ogled the expensive necklace dangling by one of his spindly fingers nonetheless. Where on earth had he gotten such a valuable treasure? “But you already paid me with money. I really can’t take that, Jungkook.”

Disappointment was easily detected as he slanted his lips to the side. “Alright, then.” He tucked the pearls back into his pocket. It surprised you how easily he had complied.

The worrisome atmosphere was quick to dissolve when the bell jangled once more. A small child meandered in with a toothy beam, holding a small pouch of clattering coins in their palm. They were no taller than Jungkook’s midriff, and he liked it a little more than he should have watching a certain softness adorn your features at the sight of the kid.

“I recommend the cinnamon apple pie. Or maybe the brown sugar crepes if you’re looking for something sweeter,” Jungkook said, gesturing to the treat behind the display glass. The child angled their head to stare at the taller man with wonder. “Anything Y/N makes is to die for, though.”

The child excitedly babbled something in return, but you didn’t quite pick up what they had said. You were far too focused on Jungkook’s animated features when he kneeled down to point at some more desserts. Sure, he was a handsome man, you’ve known that since day one. You’ve never really looked at him in this light. It was as if he were carved from pure luminosity, whittled by the hand of the most skilled sculptor. Everything about him was practically perfect; the gentle slope of his nose, the angles of his raised eyebrows, the dappled rouge of his lips, the beauty marks mottling his dewy skin, the dangerous cuts of his jaw, the twinkle of gaiety you found in his irises. With the sunlight filtering through the windows, it basked Jungkook within a golden radiance, the shadows casted along his face only highlighting his best features, doing nothing to aid your fluttering pulse. Has he always been this beautiful?

“I’ll have a slice of apple pie!”

The sudden clinking of coins being dumped onto the counter snapped you out of your trance, and you kindly wrapped up what the child ordered and handed them the paper bag. Both you and Jungkook watched as they smiled in thanks and trotted out of the bakery. Curse his handsome physique.

A little flustered by your earlier thoughts, you busied your hands by sorting the coins the kid had coughed up. Jungkook, ever the kind soul, merely stood with you as you worked, engaging you in entertaining conversations to keep you occupied while your store was empty. Where did the sun go once it disappeared down the horizon? Why did everybody else seem to enjoy the bitter taste of coffee except him? Why did his heart beat so quickly when around you? The last question he couldn’t muster the courage to ask, and much to his perturbation, he already knew the answer. You enjoyed Jungkook’s company very much; to the point where you couldn’t quite remember what it was like before he had sauntered into your life.

Before the both of you knew it, the sun was already setting. Jungkook noticed the way you deflated just slightly when red kissed the sky. It was a telltale sign that Jungkook was long overdue to go back to his ship. Yoongi would have his ass if he was late again. The whole situation was ridiculous, really. He felt like a fairy tale princess running away from the ball before his clothes grew into tatters. Well, in his case, he supposed it’d be pirate-wear.

Your smile betrayed only the gentlest hint of disappointment as you thrusted a bag of warm cookies into his arms. “Take this for the road,” you had said.

And so Jungkook did, smiling like an idiot the whole way back. A part of him absentmindedly wondered what your face would look like when you noticed that he had left the pearls on the countertop for you.

The ship rocked as the young pirate scampered across the deck at a startling speed, flinging the doors to the cabins open. Six older pirates stared at his panting form, a few looking on with unsurprised indifference, most glaring at him in disappointment. Jimin merely stuck his tongue out, his childish way of saying I told you so. There was expectancy in the captain’s eyes, but it waned away at an instant upon seeing that Jungkook carried nothing of value. Namjoon pinched the space between his brows in mild frustration.

Stiffly, Jungkook jerked his arm to thrust the bag in his hand forward. “Cookie?” he asked. Nobody said anything. Jungkook slowly brought his appendage back down, guilt roiling in his abdomen. “I take it you guys don’t want the cookies?”

With a huff, Namjoon stalked forward. “Of course we want the cookies, give me that.” He snatched the bag out of Jungkook’s hands and tossed it to Taehyung, who caught it with eagerness vividly splayed across his ruffled features. “I do have to admit, we’re getting tired of you bringing back nothing but sweets every time we go on raids, Jungkook. C’mon, kid, this is a team effort here. Look, just today Yoongi managed to steal a dozen coffers from a nobleman. The least you can do is try.” True to the captain’s word, there was a mountain of chests and boxes full to the brim with gold coins and shimmering jewels piled to the side of the cabin.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jungkook nodded in understanding, though not without a miniscule frown twinging his lips. What was a pirate without his treasure, right?

Taking note of his glum demeanor, Namjoon clapped a hand to the younger man’s shoulder. “We’re not mad at you—”

Yoongi snorted at that.

“We just… want to help you help us,” Namjoon finished, ignoring the salty pirate’s quip from behind him.

The youngest man on deck raised his hand to his forehead in an awkward salute. “Yes cap’n!” Shame prowled within his chest; just thinking about the dishonor he brought to the pirate reputation by loitering in a bakery all day, ogling at sugary treats (and the sweet baker, but Jungkook digresses).

A part of him felt even worse knowing that he’d see you less and less, what with the other pirates breathing down his neck. He could only hope that you’d still look forward to his visits, though few and far in between.

Authentic bottles of expensive wines were shoved into his knapsack by Taehyung, lacing chains of aureate crammed into his hands by Hoseok, bars of cold silver wedged into the pits of his arms by Jimin, and more treasures thrown at the youngest pirate to hold as they lithely ran across the village. Being one of the stronger and more agile ones of the group had its downfalls, after all. He was being treated like a pack mule, hauling all the treasure for them. Not that he was going to complain; Jungkook knew that he deserved the rough-housing.

“Hold onto these for me, will you?” Yoongi gruffly uttered as he slid the thick hilts of gem-encrusted daggers into his belt. Jungkook complied hesitantly, but not without a suppressed groan of annoyance. “They’ll sell for more than a pretty penny, so don’t lose them.” The older pirate seemed to be in a grumpier than usual mood, considering he lost his eyepatch and the mottled scar crossing over his eye was on display for anybody to gawk at. It would’ve been worrying to Jungkook if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Jimin was merely prolonging his juvenile game of ‘keep away’, attempting to dance away from Yoongi’s inevitable wrath.

Perhaps being a pirate wasn’t his true calling, because Jungkook found that his mind kept wandering off to the matters at hand—running away from the guards. Though it was a relatively easy task (the guards were quite thick-headed in this village), he thought about the pretty plants dangling from the balconies of a building they jogged by, or the scents of exotic spices carried by the souq market not far from where they were. Most of all, much to his expectancy, his thoughts were centered around you. Had you gotten many customers for lunch rush? Were you lonely without him? How many times have you smiled today? Jungkook was all too fond of your smile.

Blinded by his unsaid affectionate ramblings, he only barely caught on to Namjoon’s quiet, “We shook the guards off for now. Be careful next time, Seokjin. The sun’s about to set soon; we should head back to the ship before it gets dark.”

Jungkook hissed out a small sigh of relief, bending over to catch his breath. Jogging across the village would have been no problem, but running with treasures twice his weight draped all over him was a different story.

When he righted himself back to standing, the sudden pit of shocked trepidation unfurled within his abdomen. There you were, beautiful as ever, but a terrifying sight to see. Normally you’d be the only person he would want to see, but as of this moment, you were the absolute last person he fancied bumping into.

Why now? He had the most rotten of luck.

Today you weren’t wearing your regular apron, but a pair of fitted grey trousers and a soft beige blouse far too large for you, hanging off of one of your shoulders as you cradled a basket of breads and cheeses and other groceries in your arms. It was a simple outfit, but one that made his heart clench nonetheless. The glinting of iridescent pearls draped over your décolletage had his breath stolen away from him as raw sentiment overtook his form. You were wearing the pearls he left for you and you never looked more beautiful. Jungkook, on the other hand, was clad in clothes that practically screamed pirate; a golden-clasped corset tightened about the small of his waist, a tattered white button-up tucked into his dark trousers, worn sea boots covering his feet. A large gun was also slung over the belt cinched around his hips, along with multiple daggers of the like, and not to mention all the riches and jewelry the other boys had thrown at him.

You couldn’t see him. No, it would absolutely ruin Jungkook.

Perhaps dropping everything he was holding in a panicked effort to dash away as quickly as he could was the worst possible thing he could have done to not warrant any attention.

The concerned and confused questions erupting from the other pirates as they whipped their heads towards their youngest comrade went completely ignored. He scampered away from them, lunging towards a shadowed alley and hiding behind a teetering pile of musty boxes. A stray cat nuzzled against his leg, but Jungkook merely shooed it away with a frustrated glare and not-so-subtle shushing gestures.

What a fool I am, the young buccaneer berated himself, pressing a knuckle against his temple in frustration. He waited for another minute, before slinking out from the shadows, peering around the corner to see if you were still there.

No sign of you. Relief seized his chest, but not without the gentlest flower of disappointment staining whatever solace he felt, a weed amongst the roses. Jungkook’s mind was still reeling from the fact that you were wearing his pearls.

Treading carefully, he strode out of the alley, turning the other direction before halting in his tracks completely. A queer, garbled noise tumbled past his lips.

It was you, a confused smile gracing your features, and all Jungkook could think about was how the sunlight was made for you, how you glowed in front of him, how he wanted to cradle you into his chest and murmur confessions of his pure, unadulterated love into your ear. But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead, he merely stood there, as if he was imitating a statue in all of his pirate glory. Terrified, regretful, and ever so angry at himself.

Fate was a cruel game.

The pearls shone prettily on your skin. A reminder of the best mistake he’s ever made.

Your eyes had yet to wander down to fully take in his appearance, for your expression still held fondness for the man that’s visited your bakery so often, still having no idea that he was a filthy pirate, locked into his molten gaze. “I think you dropped something…?” The golden chains dangled loose between your fingers as you held them out to him. Jungkook didn’t take them, frozen on the spot.

It was as if he could pinpoint the exact moment you found out his true origins. Your brows furrowed upon seeing the weaponry strapped onto him, one of his pirate tattoos on display (Jungkook cursed himself for not thinking of rolling his sleeve back down), and the six other men watching in silent despondency behind them. You had always been a sharp one, far too smart for your own good.

Or, perhaps, it's always been obvious. Jungkook was only wishing for the impossible.

“You’re a pirate.”

The statement wedged a stake into his chest, splintering his heart into pieces. When you stepped away from him, confused horror marring your beautiful features, Jungkook knew that it was over.

He lost you.

A flurry of emotions, overwhelming and tumultuous, evidently took over you at his lack of denial. You looked to be just as heartbroken as he was.

“You’re a pirate,” you repeated, dazed. You wanted him to say something, anything. Much to his surprise, you didn’t sound angry. You took several steps back this time. The weight of pearls around your neck suddenly felt choking.

The sudden calling of his name had his head whipping around to look at his captain, watching the brutal exchange with gentle sternness. “We have to go.” The guards’ll be coming soon, no doubt.

Jungkook looked back to you, any and all words lodged in his throat. Despite the fear in your irises, a soft expression of acceptance folded over your visage, for under all his pirate exterior, he was still the same man that you thought so fondly of from your bakery. The look was short-lived however, quick to fade away when Jungkook reached out for you hesitantly. A part of him pondered how a simple baker managed to steal from the stealer. You had robbed him of his heart, and Jungkook didn’t even try to stop you.

Upon seeing you inch away in mortification at your new revelation, Jungkook retracted his arm and pursed his lips. The agony clawing at his stomach was begging to be set free. He wanted nothing more than to get onto his knees and plead for your forgiveness.

I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was. I’m sorry I fell in love with you.

His name came out again, this time from Yoongi. That meant it was serious.

“I’ll come back,” Jungkook said, tears rimming the bottom of his warm doe eyes. You watched him start to trek backwards. “I promise.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he was swallowing down a knot of thorned ivy.

Before you had the chance to say anything back, he was gone, bounding back to his ship with his comrades. Not long after, the distant barks of guards pursuing them rang throughout the village. You took that as your cue to leave. Swallowing down the urge to cry, you forced your eyes away.

You hoped he wouldn’t uphold his promise, for the both of your sakes.

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jeanbeaux · 3 years

Text

OF WHIMS AND WHISKEY

erwin smith x f!reader

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: 18+/smut/MINORS DNI, period era reflective misogyny (its the 60’s), unprotected sex, cum play, finger fucking, age gap, (not relevant to the story but reader is in her early 20’s Erwin is late 30’s), reader and erwin are smoking & drinking but neither are inebriated!

a/n: this is apart of @welcometotheclubhoe’s all around the world collab!! thank u so much for letting me join bby. anyways, this is a mad men!au of sorts so yes i made Erwin a Don Draper type, i hope y’all enjoy!! as always, much love to my beta readers @aiiwa @asahiswrld & @smoochiesdiarie, thank u all for tolerating my filth ❤️❤️.

Having risen to the role of creative director and senior partner at Sina Rose & Reiss at the age of 38, Erwin Smith had found himself growing numb to the luxuries that had greeted him at each level with his rise to the top. As the title on his business cards grew longer, the fabric in his suits became more expensive, the liquor he drank was richer, and the throngs of women that he encountered simply grew in number and beauty. Erwin Smith could very much be described as the man who had it all.

And yet day by day, he found himself wanting to have nothing to do with any of it.

A suit was a suit, whiskey will always burn it’s way down your throat, and every woman who approached him simply melded to his whims in the hopes of him granting them the honor of being Mrs. Smith. His business partners never understood what he meant by this, scoffing at the idea of how Erwin Smith could be discontent with his position in life. Nile always chides him saying that this was simply the consequence of being a bachelor for far too long, and if he had to deal with a pregnant wife, two kids and the idleness of the picket fences, he’d be cursing himself for ever getting disillusioned with the freedom of the city.

Perhaps he was right, but one thing the firm could not overlook was that Erwin’s marital status made it much easier for them to entertain the gifts the clientele would offer in order to gain better deals. Marie would have Nile’s neck if they had a repeat of the Reeves incident, and Miche was far too smitten with his fiancé to tempt fate, which is why Erwin finds himself wrapping up the dealings of a consultation alone with you.

He was sure tonight would be the usual song and dance, a fancy dinner on the client’s dime with a few dolled up faces to join them, and sure enough, he found you waiting for him at the table Marley Pharmaceuticals had reserved at Chez Paradis. He tried to suppress his smirk at the fact that the pretty secretary that junior copywriter Kirstein was fawning over was his date for the night, thinking perhaps for the poor boy's sake he wouldn’t take things too far.

However, the twisted jovialness died quickly when you informed him that you were not waiting on Mr. Jaeger to return from the restroom, and that he had entrusted you to handle the details of the ad layout by yourself. Erwin should have known that the slimy blonde he was dealing with earlier in the week would have pulled a stunt like this, but he swallows his irritation down to indulge in the French cuisine in your company. You two make pleasant conversation over classic novels and the works of the beatniks over Pinot Grigio and terrine, Erwin finding himself surprised at how much you know about Hemmingway and Salinger. Most girls like you were more enthralled by cheap romance novels, yet here you were, countering his disdain for Kerouac’s prose with valid points. Very little progress on the true purpose of the dinner had been made by the time desert had rolled around, so it was agreed that the business portion of the night would be moved to a nightcap in his office.

You’re lighting a cigarette, gazing at the skyline out of the floor to ceiling windows as Erwin pours scotch for the both of you. The city continues to rumble beneath you, the twinkling lights of showboards, the rumble of the cars on the street. Even from a 104 stories up, you feel like you can hear the laughter of everyone who was enchanted by the New Maria City nightlife.

“That’s a nasty habit, you know,” Erwin remarks as he hands you a glass.

“Some would say so,” you muse, “But your firm’s done a pretty good job of convincing the public that it's not.”

He chuckles as he takes the cigarette from your offering hand, the tobacco roll appearing comically small between his large fingers as he takes a drag. “Surgeon General Hange is still on my neck for that one, but it’s not my job to sell the truth, it’s to sell happiness.”

“Then let us toast to happiness,” you say, “May Erwin Smith, the man who makes death look delectable, weave a story of the same caliber for Marley Pharm.”

The deft clink of the crystal fills the room, Erwin giving you a wry smile before saying, “I’m afraid this story might be tougher than we thought. This product of yours, it’s bold.”

You purse painted lips over the rim of the glass. “It’s why we came to the best. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little challenge now.”

“A contraceptive pill is sure to rock the boat, but that’s not even my main concern. Who would we market it to? With soldiers returning home from the war, undoubtedly there will be a second baby boom. And while we may know that it’s reversible, a pill sounds like a permanent solution.”

“But that’s why we are paying you, isn’t it? To tell the public what it really is?”

“And why would you assume that housewives and their husbands would approve even after we’ve told them? The cigarette fantasy was successful because it soothes them from facing the truths of their routine, what you’re asking for is an upheaval of the notions and ways of your target demographic.”

You mull over what he says, letting it digest as you tap your cigarette into the ashtray on his desk. “Mr. Smith, do you know what goes into making our pills?”

“I believe the reports had said something about a combination of hormones.”

“Estrogen and progesterone, to be precise. However, slapping that across the label is neither flashy or print cost effective, which is how we came up with the consumer name — Liberio — to represent the freedom that comes with the protection. Housewives and husbands can have their opinions, but I think you’re missing the untapped market here.”

“And who would that be?” He asks incredulously.

“Women, Mr. Smith, and solely them. Times are changing. You can still hold on to the past as much as you like, but women want more these days. Even housewives do, but they are too afraid to say it. Why else are we going to college more, marrying later, having children later? Liberio is meant to empower those women, so they have freedom in their choices. There’s the story, Mr. Smith, so tell me, how should we say it best?”

For the first time in his life, Erwin feels bested at his own game. He’s dealt with plenty of people who have gone against his advice numerous times before and the failure that brought to their sales — but to have been presented with a better strategy than anything the copywriters had struggled with for weeks by a client, by a woman, was surely a first. He should feel irate, enraged even, but seeing the small smirk dance upon your lips at the fact that you’ve won simply makes the growing tension between you thicker.

“Well, we’d need to start off with focus group testing. Find out if your theory holds true. ‘Women’ is a pretty general category, so we would need to narrow it down, so how do you suggest we do that?”

“Perhaps start testing with younger women,” you say, stepping forward to bridge the gap between you till you were a breath’s distance away from each other.

“Single women,” you continue, and you rise up on your toes so you can whisper the final criteria in his ear.

“Women like me.”

Whatever restraint Erwin had left in him snaps as your tongue ghosts the shell of his ear, and he’s grabbing your jaw to slant his lips against yours. You moan into his mouth as strong hands give your ass a tight squeeze before they move up to unzip your dress. The deep red fabric pools on the floor, the chill of the room leaving goosebumps on newly exposed skin.

He takes a moment to drink it all in, the way sheer black stockings were stretching over the plush of your thighs, the way the straps connecting to the mesh garter were just guiding him to the dip of your waist, the way your nipples were pebbling against the black lace of your bra.

His hands quickly find purchase on your body once more, grasping the underside of your thighs to prompt you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. Your mouths connect in a searing kiss once again, his tongue sliding past your parted lips as he walks you to the window, your back hitting the glass with a dull thud.

A low groan leaves him as he pulls away seeing your flushed skin and heaving breasts. And you aren’t any less entranced by the sight of him, he looks even better when he’s undone; blonde locks messily pulled out of the neat combing and icy blue eyes taken over by lusty pupils. He cups your chin gently, his thumb running over your lips to get you to open up so he could slide his thick fingers into the cavern, and you take the cue from his raised brows as a sign to dutifully swirl your tongue around them. Erwin’s throbbing in his slacks at how your lips stretch across his digits as he pumps them in and out of your mouth, a glistening string of saliva breaking as he finally pulls them out.

“You’re already so wet for me, darling,” he notes, earning a mewl from you as he slips his wettend fingers through your panties to run through your folds.

“Mr. Smith,” you gasp, “Please —”

“I think we are well past formalities, don’t you agree, love?” He takes this as an opportunity to slip a finger inside you, the pace not unlike how he was abusing your mouth earlier — purposeful, powerful, leaving you yearning for more.

You nod fervently in response, a breathless “yes, Erwin” sliding past your lips, and the act of obedience earns you another finger. Erwin’s scissoring them lazily now, stretching and pressing against your walls, and you realize he’s been trying to get you to beg for him to get to what you really want.

“Erwin,” you plead, voice broken, “I want m-more, please just, just fuck me already.” You shift your hips in a pathetic attempt to buck on his hand, but he quickly catches on, his other hand tightening the steel grip he has on your thighs to hold you still.

“You aren’t ready for me yet, darling,” he hums, curling his fingers to strike that spongy spot. “No, not nearly enough. Want to feel you come undone like this for me first.” Your legs are starting to shake as he increases his speed, jaw trembling as you whine when he finally begins to rub his thumb over your aching clit and with two precise circles, you’re seeing stars, quivering in his hold as your release runs down his forearm.

Your hands fall from the vice grip you’ve had on his hair to claw at his belt, shifting your feet up to desperately push his slacks down. He chuckles at your neediness before wiping your slick on his boxer briefs, pulling them down to release his aching cock from his confines.

The sight of it causes you to gulp, long and so thick with a flushed red head leaking with precum; you're not even sure you would be able to wrap your hand fully around his girth. Erwin senses your nerves as he starts to reposition you, hooking his arms underneath your knees as he lines himself up with your needy hole, murmuring reassurances into your sweat slickened skin about how he’ll take it slow.

He pushes into you with a guttural groan, using every ounce of restraint to not just sheath himself fully; you’re just so warm, so inviting. He isn’t even half way in yet and your mind is starting to go hazy at how full you are. Your breaths are labored by the time your hips are flush with the dark blonde curls at the base of his cock, Erwin giving your walls a moment to adjust before picking you up and moving you like a doll across his length.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly he’s reduced you to a mess, you can’t even form a coherent thought as he slams into you again and again with powerful thrusts, so you claw into the back of his dress shirt to try to ground yourself in reality. Erwin’s praises at how tight you were were punctuated with the wet slaps of skin, he wasn’t going to last for much longer if you kept clamping down on him like that, and so his hand snakes to the junction where your bodies meet again to rub at your clit, sending you hurtling into your second orgasm of the night with a broken cry that fills the office.

He follows shortly after you, hot ropes of cum filling your insides as you milk him dry. He pulls out of you with a hiss, the thick white fluid dripping out of your abused hole. His hand is back by your puffy lips again, slowly pumping with the seed flowing out of you back into your cunt.

“What?” He chuckles, responding to the questioning look in your blissed out eyes. “You did say you were protected, didn’t you?” He moves closer to press a kiss to your cheek, his aquiline nose brushing against soft skin as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Consider this product testing, darling.”

thx for reading!! <3 please dont recc this on tiktok.

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glimmerglanger · 3 years

Note

Soooo…….HotR Codywan proposal snippet if you’re still taking requests? I feel like they’d be absolute saps about it and I am Soft

OOOOOH! Oh! They're going to be SUCH saps, fair warning! Let's have some family time and sweetness and a proposal on this fine Friday morning! (No spice in this snippet, only SWEET).

~~~~~~~

Autumn slipped away, eventually, and Cody wasn’t sorry to see it go. Ben’s civil case wrapped up towards the end of the season, leaving him with enough funds to cover the memorial costs for his uncle and some extra, besides.

Mostly, he knew Ben put the money towards his school expenses and loans, though he also insisted on paying half when they bought a new bed for Cody’s place, replacing the one they’d broken so impressively.

Winter brought with it true cold, the dropping temperatures no longer teasing at freezing. Often, the sun didn’t rise until long after Cody was already up and working, but he was used to that.

And he had someone warm to curl up with in bed after a long and chilly day, burying his nose against the back of Ben’s neck so many nights.

Ben mostly slept over at the ranch, though he’d kept the apartment. He said, when they discussed it again, that he thought he ought to at the least keep it until the end of the school year. He’d stayed there through most of his work during finals, but….

But, in general, he went to sleep beside Cody and woke up beside Cody. In general, he was there, sharing meals just the two of them or with the rest of the family, going to the triplet’s games, or taking Anakin for walks with Boba.

He was there on New Year’s Eve, watching with a bemused expression as Boba and the triplets helped Jango load fireworks into the back of the four-wheeler.

“Aren’t fireworks...generally a summertime thing?” Ben asked, leaning against the porch as they loaded up box after box.

“New Years is during the summer where I grew up,” Val said, coming down the steps, offering out steaming cups of coffee - decaf, Cody hoped - as she did. “Jango and I were used to New Year's fireworks. So…” She shrugged.

“Do you do this every year?” Ben asked, expression curious, and Cody left them to it, making sure the four-wheeler was appropriately loaded up. He’d handled fireworks the past few years, but Jango wanted to take care of setting them off again, with Rex and Ahsoka volunteering to help with the lighting, so…

So, he ended up sitting beside Ben, huddled out on the porch and wrapped up in a blanket as the four-wheeler set off into one of the nearby fields. “Warm enough?” he asked, feeling the heat radiating from Ben’s body, all along his side.

In fact, it didn’t feel that cold on the porch, not with so many of them sitting so close together. But the air bit, still, cold and crisp, even with the blanket of clouds overhead. There’d been flurries, throughout the day, and they were starting to come down more heavily, drifting through the air, heavy and white.

“Mm, yes,” Ben said, arm curled around him, shifting to make room for Wooley on the step below them. He looked tired - but nearly midnight was late for both of them, early risers by nature and habit - with darkened circles under his eyes.

“We’ll go to sleep, after this,” Cody promised him, and got a smile in return, sweet and fleeting.

“No sleeping yet,” Val said, wading through the pile of them, followed by Bly, who started handing out cups. They didn’t keep champagne flutes or even enough wine glasses. Everyone got what was available, coffee cups, tall glasses, and even a few mason jars, already filled.

Most of them contained sparkling grape juice.

Cody and Ben got champagne, by the smell of it, and Ben raised an eyebrow. “Don’t drink yet,” Cody told him, with a little grin, and Ben huffed a laugh, opening his mouth, only to be cut off by Echo, who stood quickly, holding up a hand.

“Get ready!” Echo shouted, everyone shifting around, vibrating when he started counting backwards from ten.

Cody nudged Ben at one, gesturing to his cup, and they all managed to drink more or less on time as, off in the fields, the first of the fireworks went off with a flash of brilliant color and a crash of sound.

Ben made a sound, both surprised and delighted, and Cody set down his glass, curled an arm around Ben’s shoulders, and pulled him over, kissing him as the first seconds of the new year ticked over, feeling something stretch out, filling up the entirety of the space inside his ribs, realization unfolding not in a flash but in a sweet, inevitable wave.

He stared at Ben, when they pulled apart, Ben turning to watch the fireworks lighting up the night, and knew that he wanted to kiss Ben every New Year’s for the rest of their lives, wanted to sit and watch fireworks with him, hold him after a long day at work, eat breakfast beside him--

“Hey, man, fireworks are that way,” Fives hissed in his ear, at some point, while elbowing him in the ribs, and Cody shoved back at him, but blinked and shook himself, turning his attention to the show up in the sky.

They’d gone all out.

They usually did.

The fireworks echoed out across the fields, the sound held close by the cloud cover. Cody knew, from experience, that there would be cars parked out along the roads leading to the ranch, neighbors and people from further in town, who came out to see the show every year, watching colors chase each other, heralding in another year.

Ponds started the cheer, when the last of the fireworks finished echoing, leaving bright afterimages on the inside of Cody’s eyelids, and they all pushed themselves up, gathering blankets and cups while excitedly talking, half of them cleaning up the porch while the other half of them lit out for the fields, going to help find the firework casings, making sure nothing had landed where it ought not.

Cody ended up standing at the sink, rinsing off glasses that Ben dried, listening in as Echo’s girlfriend - who had never attended before - talked to Ben, her hair pulled back and her cheeks rosy.

He was glad Ben had someone to make conversation with. Cody’s thoughts were buzzing, thrumming along. He felt...not quite distracted. More waiting, with the tension in his gut of anticipation and something larger.

It was snowing in earnest by the time the clean up was finished and Jango, Rex, and Ahsoka returned as conquering heroes, to cheers and applause. The flakes swirled around them when Cody and Ben finally managed to say their good nights, stepping off the porch and heading back to their space.

Cody held Ben’s hand, gloves in the way, both of them leaning together as they crunched across the frozen ground.

Cody made it to his porch before he pulled Ben to a stop, standing there in the softly falling snow and just...looking at him for a moment. Seeing the whole future, spread out around him, feeling - feeling everything, all at once, wild potential just waiting for him to embrace it.

And he’d never been any good at ignoring that feeling, at hesitating once he knew what he wanted. Indecision wasn’t a valuable skill in his career, nor a feeling he’d ever been comfortable with. He exhaled, just looking at Ben for a long moment, lovely and cold and--

Everything he wanted.

“So,” Cody said, tugging on both ends of Ben’s scarf, pulling him in closer, cold noses brushing together when he went on, the words just slipping free, like they were meant to escape his lips, “What would it take to convince you to marry me?”

He was close enough to see Ben blink several times in rapid succession, eyes so clear and so bright, even as Ben asked, “What?”

Cody felt his mouth curve, pulling on the scarf again, stealing a fast kiss as Ben’s hands came up to rest on his sides. “A nice ring?” he asked, thoughts running ahead, wondering what kind of ring Ben might want. Something practical, likely. He wasn’t the ostentatious sort. He kissed Ben again. “A big wedding?” Ben’s hands squeezed, his breath came out in a pant against Cody’s mouth. “A fancy honeymoon?”

“Are you - are you being serious?” Ben asked, voice wavering, and Cody could acknowledge that this was...a bit sudden.

But he knew how he felt. He looked at Ben and saw the future unfurling outwards and wanted it, wanted to make it his, to shape it into being.

He made a rough sound, let go of the scarf to cup Ben’s face, and pulled him into a proper kiss, long and deep. And, when he pulled back, Ben looking dazed, he said, “Yeah, Ben. I’m being serious. What would it take? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

The snow was starting to fall in earnest, thick flakes swirling around them, landing on the copper strands of Ben’s hair and his eyelashes. His cheeks were tinged red from the cold. Maybe from the kiss, but Cody didn’t want to presume.

Not even with Ben swallowing, staring at him without blinking, eyes searching.

Cody wanted to prompt him for an answer, even though it hadn’t been very long, perhaps a heartbeat. Maybe two. And then Ben exhaled shakily and said, voice thick and quiet, “Well. You could ask. Properly.”

Cody groaned, the sound torn from his chest, fingers clenching in Ben’s hair as he rasped, “Will you marry me, Ben?”

He felt Ben shiver, watching his eyes flutter, delightfully, and had a moment to grin - feeling victorious, that same heady kick that came with looking over at the timer during a competition and knowing he had the best time - when Ben murmured, “Yeah, Cody. I will.”

And then Ben was kissing him as the snow swirled around them and the world went on, unnoticed.

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #home (on the range)#the cowboy au #codywan #AND THEY SMOOCH #check your sugar there's a lot of sweetness here

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

The Hybrid (Prologue)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: So happy to be back with another series!!! I honestly really missed posting. Unlike Secrets of the Shore, updates will be slower because I don’t have them all written out yet. A couple things I wanted to let you know before you read. I based Y/N’s family off of Gilmore Girls. I thought they were the perfect fit for this story and the show in general and I just love their dynamic. (Including Luke who I renamed Steve for obvious reasons). Chapter 1 will explain more obviously but I wanted to give you guys a little snippet of the characters and relationships. So let me know what y'all think!

Word Count: 3.3k

Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. As you know, the Outer Banks is essentially divided into two groups. If we want to be blunt - it’s the rich and the poor. Figure Eight is home to the rich. Aka the Kooks. With houses bigger than necessary with extra rooms that go untouched, boats the size of homes on the Cut - the other side of the island. Most people who live on Figure Eight are your naturally raised assholes. People who don’t know the value of a dollar and take advantage of people who do most of their dirty work that lets them prance around the island with perfectly manicured fingernails. These hard workers are the Pogues. They live on the south side of the island where most Kooks wouldn’t be found dead. They serve fancy meals at the country club for shitty tips, mow lawns, and work their asses off at any other job for minimum wage. The drastic difference in lifestyles tend to cause many spats and arguments between the two communities. Especially between the teenagers who still don’t know how to control their raging emotions or know when to bite back their tongue. For the Kooks, every fight is a fight for dominance where as the Pogues fight for equality - to put the Kooks in their place. Many of these fights happen at summer parties where the two groups clash to find a good time with their friends filled with alcohol, drugs, and good music.

That’s where they find themselves tonight. The infamous Pogues. John B, JJ, Kie, Pope, and now Sarah Cameron. Although born a natural Kook, she’s earned her spot next to the adventurous teens and her boyfriend. Unlike her brother Rafe who basically is the leader of his notorious group. Topper and Kelce are his best friends who follow him blindly.

The Pogues watch them from their spot surrounding the keg. Kie purses her lips in distaste as the boys cat call for the ladies around them. Somehow most of them finding it flattering. Sarah sips on her beer to hide her embarrassment, often wondering how she and her brother grew up to be so different. Pope and John B stay mostly disinterested, only worried if they try to make a pass at an unwilling girl or fire a degrading comment at their short tempered friend. JJ Maybank is known around the island for his trouble making behavior. Usually if he gets in trouble for fights, no one ever asks who the other people were in the scuffle. Because if JJ Maybank is in the fight, he’s the one who started it, right? Wrong. In fact, JJ usually is never the one to start it. He’s good at keeping his head down and only speaking when spoken to when it comes to the Kooks - the only form of advice worth taking from his father. But his short temper is something the Kooks his age loved to take advantage of because they liked getting a rise out of him. It was like an adrenaline rush.

Luckily, tonight both groups were keeping their distance, either only talking to each other or random Tourons that have found their way to the party. This is usually JJ’s favorite part of a boneyard party. Finding his one fish in a sea of many that he can reel in just for the night and never have to worry about seeing them again.

He has his eyes set on a beautiful blonde making her way to the bonfire when all of a sudden Kie’s voice pulls him out of his trance.

“What’s she doing here?”

JJ follows her line of vision, spotting you walking down the wooden steps that lead to the beach, pulling your best friend behind you by his wrist. He first notices your smile and how it brightens up your entire face. Then of course his eyes scan down your slim but athletically toned body. You’re wearing a pair of jean shorts and a cropped white T shirt that says UNC across the chest. Who knew someone could look so good without even trying?

Well JJ did. He’s known it for a while.

“Careful. I think you’re drooling,” John B whispers in his best friend’s ear.

JJ pushes him away and mutters, “Shut up. No I’m not.”

But maybe he was.

Y/N Y/L/N is a unique resident of the island. Unlike majority of the island, she doesn’t fall in either Kook or Pogue category. She’s what everyone calls the Hybrid.

People who work hard for what they have but haven’t fallen to be Pogue status. Quite literally living in the middle in a place they call the Crest.

Your story is well versed among the gossipers of the island (which tends to be just about everybody). And mainly that’s because of who your grandparents are. Claude and Doris Y/L/N. Two of the riches people on the island, living in a three story house on the beach. Many people fear them, others envy them. Most feel both. Even Ward Cameron walks on egg shells around them, which is quite often, considering he works for Claude. They’re the kind of people who have never heard of Barefoot wine or Walmart. They keep their noses up and turn a blind eye to the suffering communities around them. Thirty four years ago, Doris gave birth to a daughter that couldn’t be more opposite than them. Lorelai Y/L/N was a wild child. A rule breaker. She snuck out at nights, dated boys her parents would never approve of, dabbled in breaking the law here and there. It didn’t matter how many times her parents disciplined her. She always managed to make her parents’ life a living hell.

No one was surprised when word got passed around that Lorelai had gotten pregnant at eighteen. Although it was with another Kook, she brought shame upon her family name when she refused to get an abortion, even when her mom tried dragging her by her hair.

Lorelai risked everything by running away from her parents’ home in the middle of a windy night. With only one suitcase, the baby daddy out of the picture, and less than a grand in her pocket, she managed to make a life for herself on the South side of the island. She worked two jobs, found an affordable apartment for cheap rent, and managed to save some money before her babies were born.

Yes, babies. As in more than one. Five months after running away from home, she gave birth to twin girls and they instantly became her entire life. With the help of her best friend Steve, who she met one month after being on her own, meeting him at his automotive shop when she very much literally rolled her junky car into the garage, she raised you and your sister on the Cut. The two of you are her greatest accomplishment. Every now and then, she mentally throws up a middle finger to everybody who doubted her, proud of who the two of you have become.

Right before you turned ten, your mom took a business risk and opened her own Cafe. The Bikini Beans cafe, very popular amongst both Kooks and Pogues. The business did so well that she was able to move the three of you out of your shitty apartment into a beautiful one story home with three bedrooms in between the Cut and Figure Eight, aka the Crest, the summer going into your freshman year.

You actually used to be best friends with John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward. It was easier being friends with them than the girls, finding more joy in sports and rough housing than makeup and gossip.

Doing the same summer that you moved, your mom pulled you out of Kildare County High and placed you in Outer Banks Private Academy. Aka Kook Academy. Around this time, your grandparents had also become more involved in your life, and you wondered if they had somehow bribed your mom into forcing you to transfer schools. You tried asking her during one of your many fights that started with you begging her to keep you at Kildare County High, but she quickly shut you down and told you to be grateful. That was ironic coming from the woman who ran away from the people giving her an expensive high school career.

You had no choice but to do what your grandparents wanted and attend Kook Academy. Making friends was a lot harder there than it was in Kildare County High. You managed to make one friend in your freshman year. Andre Cortez. Due to an incident a couple years back, you built thick walls and Andre was the only one able to break them down. You were grateful for your friendship, but hanging out with him was nothing like hanging out with the Pogues.

When you transferred schools, you lost touch with the Pogues slowly. Your life became busy with school and playing dress up for your grandparents and the boys were starting to work. Eventually all contact was cut and ever since, you’ve felt a void in your heart.

“Look,” You tell Andre. “I told you I would be your wing woman and I’m not backing down from what could possibly be the most important role in my life.”

You didn’t notice the Pogues or any of the stares around you. It’s true you’re not much of a party girl. I mean, you’ll go out here and there, have a drink or two, but you felt more comfortable at places where you weren’t surrounded by drunk and horny teenagers.

“He’s probably not even here,” Andre says. He’s trying to look nonchalant but you notice the way his eyes dance from face to face of the people around him.

“He told you he was going to be here, right?” You ask him with one brow raised. Andre nods. “Then, we’ll find him.”

Sarah and Kie never made any effort to talk to you at school, but to be fair, neither have you. You’ve heard mixed reviews, some people call them spoiled brats, ungrateful...some even go as far as calling them ‘The Cut Sluts.’ Of course you never take any of those things to heart. You can’t judge a book but it's cover. Plus, they’re friends with your old best friends. They can’t be that bad for John B and JJ and Pope to be hanging out with them, right?

“You think she'll come over here?” Kie asks. No one’s ever said it out loud, but her friends wonder if deep down, Kie was a little jealous of you. Because you were their first real girl friend. You were the first girl they ever let in and opened their heart too. That was a tough pill for Kie to swallow when she originally thought she was that girl. Of course the boys don’t like you any more than Kie and vice versa. But sometimes Kie wishes she could have grown up with the boys the same way you had.

“Probably not. Unless she’s drinking,” Pope says and motions towards the keg they’re near.

“I have an idea,” John B says and fills up a red solo cup. He hands it to JJ. “Why don’t you go offer her a cup.”

JJ snags the cup out of John B’s hand and glares at him. “Fuck off, dude.”

“Do you guys ever see her around at school?” Pope asks the girls.

Sarah shrugs. “Not really. She doesn’t really get a long with my old group of friends.”

Kie rolls her eyes. “No one gets along with your old group of friends.”

Sarah playfully shoves Kie by the shoulder and they laugh.

“I heard she turned down Raymond Easterling a couple weeks ago and he didn’t take it very well,” Pope says, remembering the words he heard from the kids in his class roaming the school hallways.

Raymond goes to Kildcare County High with the Pogues. He’s known to be a trouble maker and a class clown. He works with JJ at the country club. The kid can make JJ laugh sometimes, but he wouldn’t necessarily say he likes him all that much. He can be an arrogant asshole with an ego bigger than it should be.

“She turns down everybody,” Sarah says. “Some people at my school call her ‘The Heart Sucker’ because she can pull people in with the snap of her fingers and break their heart just as quickly.”

Something stirred in the pit of JJ’s stomach.

“Hey! Where you going?” John B calls out to JJ who’s making his way deeper into the sea of people on the beach.

“Taking advantage of a good boneyard party, my friend,” JJ calls back and slugs the rest of his beer. Looking left and right, he searches for the blonde he had eyes on earlier. Because right now, he needed a distraction.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The party starts to die down a little after midnight. Some people leave to find another party, some are passed out in the back of their cars, and others had already found what they were looking for - someone to leave with.

The boneyard party wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. You had found a couple of kids from your school who were nice enough to make small talk with you while Andre left to find a guy named Devon, a Touron he’s been talking to who’s renting for the entire summer.

Now you’re waiting for Andre to come back so the two of you can walk home. You find comfort under a slanted palm tree towards the back of the beach, scrolling through random apps on your phone to pass the time.

“Y/N?” You look up from you phone and smile when you see your former best friend inching closer to you, squinting in the dark to see if it’s really you.

“Maybank? What are you still doing here?” You stand up and pat the sand off your hands on you thighs.

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you look at him. He’s beautiful. Lucious blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, piercing blue eyes. You always knew JJ was going to grow up to be gorgeous. He was cute when he was younger. At least you always thought so.

“I was just leaving, but I thought I saw you sitting here and wanted to make sure you were all right.” He knows it’s not like you to stay this late at a party, especially all by yourself. When he first saw you sitting there, he didn’t know if he should say something. Mostly due to nerves of seeing you again. But the other Pogues had already left and he didn’t trust anyone else at the party to be near you alone late at night. It didn’t matter if you were sober or not.

“Aw. Was JJ Maybank worried about me?” You tease. Talking to him felt easy. As if you never stopped being friends. A few years ago, you and JJ had the best banter. Despite constantly bickering back and forth, John B always swore the two of you would get married one day. The two of you just always clicked like a natural connection. And even now, when only seeing each other every now and then for a few minutes at a time, it felt normal. You smirk when JJ rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I’m okay. Just waiting for my friend to come back from his little rendezvous,” You say.

JJ nods. “Did you have a good time? I feel like I never you see at these things.”

“Yeah. Parties aren’t really my thing. But Andre was nervous to meet this guy he’s been talking to for a little while so I came for moral support.”

“Looks like he didn’t need much of the support.”

You shrug. “It’s better that way, anyway. I don’t mind waiting for him. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you have a good time tonight? I hear your quite the ladies’ man at these things.”

“Come on, Sparky. You know better than to believe everything you hear.”

Your face lights up at the mention of your old nickname. You use to always be busting out the seams with energy. On days where the boys just wanted to chill and play video games, you would drag them to the park for a game of kick ball. Or when they wanted to sleep in after a long week, you showed up at 8 am to drag them out of bed to catch the morning waves. So one day JJ started calling you Sparky, and it stuck with the rest of your little gang. You always pretended to hate it, but secretly you loved it.

“Oh I don’t believe everything I hear. I do, however, believe what I see. And your arm around that tall blonde in the little black dress looked quite convincing.”

You first saw JJ at the party when he was making his way to the pretty girl by the water. Your teeth involuntarily clenched and there was a twisted feeling in your stomach you couldn’t shake whenever you looked at them.

In that instant, JJ felt grateful for the dark sky. He felt the rush of heat rise up his neck to his cheeks before he could stop it. He knew the motivation to see that girl was because of you. He just wished you never saw it. But he didn’t know why.

“I walked her home. She wasn’t my type,” JJ plays it off.

“I didn’t realize you had a type,” You giggle, but a small part felt relieved to hear this. “So what is it? Your type?”

Hybrids with a Pogue attitude, bright smile, beautiful eyes, and a mouth that could make any sailor turn around, JJ thought.

“I don’t know. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Well, when you figure it out let me know.”

“Why? So you can transform into my ideal girl?” He teases.

Now you’re the one thankful for the dark sky. “In your dreams, Maybank. But so far, I do have the perfect wing-woman track record, so if you needed help -”

“I don’t think I need any help in that department. Thank you very much.”

You throw your hands up in fake surrender. “Ooo. Touchy subject.”

JJ rolls his eyes at the same time your phone pings with a text message. You pull it out of your shorts pocket and open the text from Andre, telling you to leave without him because he’s gonna stay out late with Devon and won’t know what time he’s going to be done.

“Everything all right?” JJ says, watching you read the message.

You lock your phone and stuff it in your back pocket again. “Like I said. Perfect wing-woman track record.”

“That was Andre?”

“Yeah. He’s most likely not coming home tonight.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“At least one of us is,” You joke.

JJ’s grin slightly falters but you don’t catch it. You have no idea how much he wishes the two of you could be equally as lucky. Together.

“Well, I should probably go,” You say and bend down to grab your flip flops.

“Let me walk you home,” JJ offers.

“Oh no. It’s okay -”

“You’re cute. It’s wasn’t up for debate. I’m not letting you walk back by yourself.”

You scoff lightly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just humor me.”

You roll your eyes and smirk but choose not to argue. In fact, you’re excited to spend more time with JJ. It’s been so long.

“Fine.”

“And here I thought you might’ve grown out of your stubborn phase by now.”

You shove him playfully by the shoulder. “Shut up!”

And just like that, it felt like old times.

#jj fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx imagine #obx fic #jj maybank one shot

352 notes · View notes

its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

Note

hellllooooo amigo

so I was wondering if you could write a lil fic about Micah mentioning his birthday is soon but not expecting anyone to care about it but then the reader surprises him with a present and Micah’s like :O

I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for the past week lmao but if it ain’t your thing or if you’ve done something similar before then don’t worry about it my g :)

howdyy amigo <33 so i had all these good ideas and then i was writing and the creative block hit HARD so i high key hate this and its a mess but i hope i pulled through in the end and i kinda went a little off topic but oops enjoy anyway :0

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You never really gave a thought to Micah’s birthday. Not because you didn’t want to celebrate it but simply because he never mentioned it to you. It wasn’t really a tradition to celebrate a gang members birthday although the group would never pass up a chance for drinking. Mostly those celebrations were reserved for big scores.

For some of the special members of the gang however, there were celebrations. On Dutch’s the whole gang would practically feast and party for the entire week and for Miss Grimshaw Javier would perform while Sean gave a right old toast. Dutch even insisted on a party for Molly and you laughed at Karen and Mary Beth who whined the entire night about “Miss fancy pants needing her own royal party”.

Of course even for the other members you’d notice when it was their birthday. You’d seen when close friends of Arthur leave gifts beside your own at his tent and for Jack’s birthday John and Abigail tolerated each other enough to spoil the boy with gifts surrounded by family.

That’s why you thought it was rather odd when Micah, your sweetheart never told you about his birthday. You thought he may have damn well forgot it when you overheard him one night with Bill.

He was mumbling into a bottle of whiskey, half on his way to passing out when he mentioned he was getting too old with another birthday coming up in a few days. Of course the bastard wouldn’t tell you, for all his boasting he’d never been one for parties or celebrating.

So with that in mind you spent the rest of the night formulating a plan to at least celebrate his birthday between the two of you.

You’d learnt from Bill the next morning, who wasn’t nearly half as drunk (or hungover) as Micah that his birthday was in exactly three days.

So that left you with three days to formulate just how you’d surprise the man you’d come to love so dearly for his birthday.

Coming up with a celebration was relatively easy— he wasn’t one for crowds, he enjoyed your company and only yours alone and he loved a good whiskey so naturally you’d take him away from the gang’s camp and head down to the Dakota river for the night.

It was finding a good gift that had you tearing your hair out. It was hard trying to find something that would be personal enough for Micah to appreciate when the man in question held few personal belongings, and naturally a new revolver was completely out of the question.

You decided to give up on your mission to find him a gift after nearly chewing Swanson’s ear off for singing while you were trying to think and rethink your gift.

So with a new formed headache you headed into valentine to purchase a nice and rather expensive whiskey for tomorrow night.

On your way out of the general store you noticed a beautiful Dutch Warmblood horse trot into the stable behind his owner. The horse had a large white spot over his leg and it couldn’t’ help but remind you of Baylock.

Bingo.

Smiling to yourself you put the whiskey in your saddle bag and walked into the stables to buy Micah his birthday gift, one you’re sure he’s going to love more over any new jacket or gunbelt.

Micah’s day went about relatively normally for the most part, waking up together with a kiss and a coffee but you couldn’t help be slightly more affectionate than usual.

You’d spent most of the day together, Micah talking with you while you did chores and you talking with him while he (reluctantly) sat on guard duty. All the normal things about the day went on and you kept your secret until the sun was just about to dip over the mountain.

Micah was leaning against a tree, sharpening his knife when you came up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You played with the ends of his hair, taking in the sight of him as he holstered the knife and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’ve got something for you.”

You leant forward and placed a soft kiss to his cheek, smiling against his skin at the curious sound he made.

“Hmm? You sure that something isn’t right here in front of me sweetheart?”

You giggle softly as Micah tries to pull you in closer for a proper kiss, deciding to indulge in his wishes for once. It was his birthday after all.

Pulling away from the surprisingly tender kiss, you give him a gentle smile as you untangle yourself from his arms.

“Common, let me show you.”

You take Micah by the hand, almost dragging him to the other side of camp by the horses which drew the attention from a few of the gang members but you didn’t have a care in the world as anticipation grew.

Leading him over to Baylock who is newly saddled, you watched as Micah stared blankly at it before tentatively bringing a hand up to feel over the soft premium leather.

The saddle was all black to match Baylock’s coat with white inlay in the seat and silver on the horn. All of it was the finest quality at your request and even the bedroll was a finer cotton than most.

Micah couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face and he turned to you looking like a kid on Christmas.

“You get this for little old me?”

Your own smile matched his as you wrapped your arms back around his neck once more.

“Well I thought since you’d never ever want another revolver and there isn’t much more you love than those guns and Baylock that you’d want a new saddle for him.”

Micah brought you in for a tight hug after that, managing to lift you slightly as you clung to him for dear life. He looked up at you from your new position.

“Sweetheart there ain’t nothing I love more than I do you—“

He sets you back on the ground, leaning in for a kiss but letting your noses bump and your foreheads touch.

“—worth more to me than any ol’ revolver, I love you.”

You close the gap between the two of you, melting into each other as you feel just how much Micah is in love with you.

“I love you too Mikey, and happy birthday— do you like it?”

The look you give him is one of hope and he can’t help but nod and wrap his arms tighter around your waist.

“Course I like it, but yer didn’t need to pay for this. Looks real fancy.”

Micah looked over the saddle once more, his eyes beaming as he saw how well it complemented Baylock’s coat. He was impressed, of course by the gift but because you had cared enough to get it for him and it only confirmed the feelings he had for you.

“Who says I paid for it?”

You saw Micah smirk at your comment and give a low evil laugh.

“That’s my sweetheart I know and love.”

Of course this time you had paid for the saddle, one of the few items you were willing to pay for but that didn’t mean the two of you didn’t steal practically everything else.

You pull away from Micah and hoist yourself up onto Baylock’s saddle, holding your hand out to a very confused looking Micah.

“Common you, I’ve got a nice bottle of whiskey and two glasses waiting for us.”

Down by the river you and Micah were perched up on a large rock that was floating in some shallow water by the river bank. You’d hidden the glasses and whiskey in a tree and the two of you were now laughing together as you drank through it slowly.

Your head was resting under his chin while his arm that wasn’t holding his glass was draped over your shoulder. The moonlight reflecting off the water was more than enough for the two of you to see as he topped up your glass for you.

“Gosh so how old are you now?”

Your words were light and charismatic, the two of you giggling about all sorts of things that night. Micah looked up in contemplation, humming as if he was trying to remember.

“Ehh must be close to forty now— thirty nine I think.”

You whistled, only to cut yourself off with a small laugh as you raised the glass to your mouth.

“You are getting old Mr.Bell, the next thing you know I’ll be able to outshoot you.”

“Sweetheart you can already outshoot me…”

Despite the lighthearted tone of the conversation, you noticed how Micah got uncharacteristically quiet.

“Micah? Are you alright?”

You sit up to face Micah, noticing the flush on his cheeks which wasn’t the fault of the whiskey and the way his attention was on sloshing the liquid in the glass.

“I am gettin’ old sweetheart, at least in terms o’ outlaws—“

“Micah what are you saying?”

You stare at him confused, completely unprepared for what he says next.

“— ‘m saying that i love you and yer the only one I’d ever wanna grow old with.”

Your eyes widen, in fear? in hope? You weren’t quite sure, maybe it was shock at the fact Micah Bell had said he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

“B-but I thought you didn’t want redemption!? I thought you never wanted to leave the gang, this life!”

Micah shakes his head, putting down your glasses and taking his hands in yours as he squeezes them to reassure himself more than anything.

“I didn’t— I don’t. Oh hell I don’t know what I want but I would throw it all away for you, if its what you wanted.”

He seems to regain some of his confidence after a deep breath and he waves his hands in front of you as he tries to formulate what he wants to say.

“Ya’know have a house and all that…”

You smile gently, your heart melting at the thought that Micah would give up everything for you. You lean forward, taking his hands and threading your fingers before kissing him.

The kiss depends as you momentarily forget where you are and you both start to let your hands wander lower over each other until Micah knocks the glass of whiskey over.

Pulling back from where you’d almost crawled on top of him, you smile sheepishly and sit back down on the rock. This time you sit between Micah’s legs so his arms can rest in your lap and his head can rest on your shoulder.

“Well a house and all that can wait since I’m perfectly happy growing old with you robbing and thieving our way across the plains.”

Your head rests against his own as you feel him litter soft kisses over your shoulder and neck.

“Sounds like something I could get used to.”

Micah whispers his words against your skin and the two of you enjoy the peace and each other’s company. Your hand gives his own a reassuring squeeze, letting your eyes close as you relax and listen to the sound of the river flowing.

“As long as I have you and get to celebrate a hundred more birthdays with you, I’ll be the happiest person in the world.”

Micah squeezes your hand back, sitting up so you could get comfortable against his chest as he rests his chin on top of your head.

“Not sure ‘bout a hundred but you have me for as long as this world lets me darlin’”

You hum sleepily, getting closer and closer to sleep as you listen to his gravelly voice.

“Promise?”

“I Promise”

#i dont even know what this is #warning: unedited af #micah bell #micah bell x reader #micah bell imagine #gn!reader #rdr2 #rdr2 writing #rdr2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2 #THE WRITERS BLOCK HITTT #😩😩😩

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cherienymphe · 4 years

Text

xoxo (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, roofie use, Stark!Peter, snobby rich people, Peter’s an ass (I believe @opheliadawnwalker3 coined the term “baby Ransom”)

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Peter Stark, the adopted son of the playboy philanthropist Tony Stark, has been a pain in your ass for years. Ever the womanizer, you always brushed off his flirtatious behavior as part of his personality, unaware of just how deeply his feelings ran.

You leaned against the bar with a grimace, nursing the strong drink in your hand as the annoying sound of high-pitched laughs and fake compliments drifted up from downstairs, swirling around you. You glanced over your shoulder to look down at the rest of the guests before rolling your eyes at this soiree that was nothing more than a pissing contest for the rich and snooty.

You truly hated being the daughter of a wealthy CEO more often than not. You’d grown up with the kind of lifestyle that more than half the world would never taste, ignorant to not only reality, but the true inner workings of the business that funded your lifestyle. It wasn’t until your junior year of high school when the rug was ripped out from underneath you, exposing the dark truth.

Now, you detested everything about this lifestyle. From the preferential treatment to the fancy parties, you hated everything that came with it. Despite the fact that you were an adult now, your father still had an iron grip on you no matter how much you pretended he didn’t. It was why instead of going on a humanitarian trip with some friends from college for winter break, you were back in the big apple, the upper east side to be exact, surrounded by a bunch of brownnosers.

“Another please,” you murmured, setting your empty glass down onto the bar.

The bartender was quick in giving you a refill, but before the glass met your lips, a finger slid in between to gently push it away. A sigh escaped you before you even turned your head, the familiar smell of his cologne reaching your nose.

“You’re always off by yourself at these little gatherings…”

You turned towards the voice, eyes meeting his dark ones as a playful smirk danced along his pink lips. His brown hair was neatly pushed away from his face, suit fitting him to perfection. He looked so put together and very much like a gentleman. Too bad that you knew better.

“Someone like me might take it as an invitation to approach you.”

You fully turned in your seat, leaning your elbow on the bar to gaze at him, unimpressed, cheek resting on your hand. He too was leaning on the bar, signaling for the bartender to get him a drink, already sliding into the seat in front of you. You could’ve protested, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Peter Stark was the bane of your existence. Adopted by the great Tony Stark when he was just a toddler, a big ordeal that made the papers apparently, the dark-haired male grew up in the same environment you did. The same circles. You went to the best schools together, often times having the same batch of friends. He always had the teachers and just about every other adult fooled, but everyone else knew better.

Peter’s charm was notorious. Those soft brown eyes and boyish good looks could have any girl swooning at his feet. He was so good that most girls didn’t even mind being one of the many. As long as they were a number, they didn’t care. Let them tell it, he had a way of making every single one of them feel special. You probably would’ve been one of them had you not seen his behavior firsthand all those years ago. How he’d tell one girl one thing and say something completely different to the next.

Peter’s constant flirtations with you and your absolute refusal to ever even entertain him had made your relationship…interesting. Could you even call yourselves friends? He flirted with you, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. That was the gist of it. His behavior had only gotten worse once you’d denounced this lifestyle the minute you left for college, a non-Ivy League college at that.

You remembered the surprise you felt that Peter had seemed to be genuinely upset with the 180 you’d done with your lifestyle. You had rolled your eyes as he’d called you all sorts of ‘wannabe’ this and ‘wannabe’ that, biting your tongue as he insulted your ‘low rate school’. Even now, after a little over 2 years, he still sneered whenever he brought up your new life.

“Color me shocked you even showed up today. Last I heard you were going to build houses for children,” he said, nursing his drink.

You smirked at him, fighting back a laugh.

“Last you heard? Keeping tabs on me, Stark?”

He returned your smirk, dark eyes trailing over you, gaze lingering on whatever skin your short dress exposed. You weren’t fazed by his conspicuous onceover, more than used to it.

“Of course. I have to make sure my best girl stays out of trouble,” he told you, leaning in.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you downed your drink.

“Your best girl,” you dryly repeated, standing. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter hurried to stand with you, whistling at the bartender as you walked away. It wasn’t long before you felt his arm being thrown over your shoulder as he pulled you against him. He waved an expensive bottle of champagne in your face as he walked down the hall with you.

“You may have switched up and hate me now-.”

“I’ve always hated you,” you deadpanned.

“…but you can’t deny that I know how to throw a party within a party,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Ned and I are having a little get together in the penthouse suite.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you sighed as you thought about how angry you’d been to be forced back home for the break instead of doing what you wanted to do. You could honestly use the distraction, at least for a little while until you had to be in your father’s presence again. You sighed again, and by the grin on Peter’s lips, you knew that he knew that he had you.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you said with a flourish.

His grin widened, and he pulled you closer as he took you to the elevator. You leaned against the mirrored wall once inside, staring at your reflection with a frown.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he said, pressing the button. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.”

“Why are you so concerned with how I age?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, approaching you as he swung the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I want you to age as gracefully as me when we get married,” he teased, pressing his free hand onto the wall beside your head.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’d never marry you, and you… Well, you’d never get married,” you said with a shrug, shaking your head.

His grin dimmed a bit as his eyes met yours.

“I’d marry you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, head leaning back against the wall as he moved closer, pressing his forearm to the wall, face suddenly serious as he eyed you. It was his turn to sigh now, the sound heavy and drawn out.

“When…are you and I finally going to get together?” he slowly asked, voice low in the quiet elevator.

Your eyes widened just a tad, nose brushing his as he leaned in. Peter hadn’t asked you that for some time now. It was a recurring question of his that you always brushed off, and even though this time was no different, something in his voice made you blink. There was a yearning that had never been there before. Something new lingering in his eyes.

You laid your hand on his chest, pushing him away, and he let you.

“Seriously, Peter? You know the answer to that question,” you said.

He huffed, his grin returning as he shook your rejection off.

“You know I always have to ask…just in case you change your mind,” he replied, quickly scanning your frame.

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted behind him, the low hum of a small party reaching your ears.

“I’m never going to change my mind.”

Without a second glance, you brushed past him to exit the elevator.

“You need to start getting serious about your future, Y/N.”

You stared out of the tinted window, watching the city fly by as your father’s car weaved in and out of traffic. He was giving you yet another lecture on what he thought you should be doing with your future. After all, it wasn’t like you had already decided on a major and knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, so you could understand his- oh. Wait… You had!

“Dad,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Humanities isn’t a real major,” he argued for the umpteenth time, tone laced with contempt.

You cut in before he could continue.

“First of all, it is. Second of all, it’s my minor-.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that- what is it? International relations? That’s the major, right?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ll never understand you kids. So fickle with your goals-.”

“Dad, I’ve had the same plan since before I even went to college. You can’t call it fickle just because at 17 I told you I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps. I’ve known what I wanted since then. Its literally the opposite of fickle,” you huffed.

You heard him sigh.

“I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps-.”

“…and now I don’t. Things happen,” you told him. “I don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle.”

You’d told him this a hundred times. You were so tired of having the same discussion, and you knew that he was too.

“Why can’t you be more like Peter?”

You frowned, finally looking over at him. This was a new tactic. The older man had his eyes focused on the paper as he continued to speak.

“He’s following behind Tony swimmingly, a real successor in the making,” he praised.

You fought the urge to groan and sink down in your seat like a child. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your father would be comparing you to Peter Stark of all people.

“You’re comparing me to Peter now?” you scoffed.

The paper ruffled as he turned it, humming.

“I’m just noting that the two of you came up together, but you somehow deviated so far off track.”

“Well, since you love Peter so much, just pass the company onto him when the time comes. God knows he’ll appreciate it way more than I will,” you grumbled.

Your father hummed at that.

“I actually have hopes that, in some way, the company will be his one day,” he replied.

Your brows furrowed, confusion filling you as you fought to understand what he meant. Your father’s eyes finally met yours, a serious look on his face.

“Peter’s exactly the kind of man you should be considering when you finally get ready to get married.”

Shock poured over you like a bucket of ice water, his words having been the last thing you expected to hear. Marriage? Peter? You blinked a few times, fighting to clear your head enough to articulate what you were thinking.

“You…you can’t be serious…?”

He fixed you with a stern look.

“As a heart attack. What is there to oppose? Peter is young and handsome and well brought up. He’ll be taking over after Tony one day, and you really can’t do much better than that. Unless you’re aiming to be the next Meghan Markle, but no offense sweetheart, you don’t strike me as the type,” he elaborated.

You pressed your hand to your forehead as your mind spun.

“I’m not telling you to marry him or anything. I’d never go so far to participate in something as archaic as an arranged marriage. I’m just telling you to consider it. He’s a good match for you, and I’d like you to be open to it…”

You couldn’t begin to believe how sharply this morning had turned.

“It’s why you’ll be seeing a lot more of him over the break. Just keep it in mind when we meet with them,” he said.

He must have noted the confusion on your face because he continued.

“We’re meeting them for brunch. Tony wants to run his latest idea by me, and we figured it would give you and Peter more time to catch up,” he explained.

The car had finally stopped just as he finished, and you didn’t have time to process anything before you were being ushered out of the car. The brisk air whipped around you as you followed your father into the fancy restaurant.

Your father wanted you to marry Peter? The idea was so absurd that you actually considered the possibility that your father was playing a joke on you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you and your father sat down, you across from Peter. As always, he looked absolutely tickled to see you, while you simply returned his grin with a withering stare.

Brunch was a taxing affair. Tony Stark greeted you as politely as he always did before he and your father got right down to business. That left you and Peter with no one but each other to look at. You did your best to ignore the annoying brunette sitting across from you, barely speaking with him no matter how many times he tried to engage you in conversation.

You supposed that your behavior towards Peter was a bit unfair. After all, it wasn’t his fault that your father wanted you to marry him. Although, as you thought back to your conversation in the elevator the other day, you had to wonder if he knew, or at the very least, had some idea. And that was exactly what you asked him once you were alone.

Your father and Tony had gone back to Tony’s office in a hurry to remedy some oversight that had been missed. You’d been left with your father’s car and driver, and you eyed Peter, waiting for his answer, as you made your way outside.

“Not really, no.”

You slid into the backseat, thanking the driver before scooting as far away from Peter as possible as he joined you.

“Not really or no? Those are two different answers,” you told him.

A smirk danced along his lips as he leaned his head back, turning it ever so slightly to gaze at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I had an idea. The great Mr. Y/L/N never came outright and said it, but little things he’d say here and there started to add up,” he explained with a chuckle.

He apparently found this funny while you did not. You crossed your arms over your chest, anger bubbling within you at the thought of your father playing matchmaker behind your back. Peter reached for your hand, attempting to pull it away from your chest, but you jerked it away as soon as his fingers brushed yours. He sucked his teeth.

“Come on. Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You turned to fully face him, not a hint of humor on your face.

“Yes,” you answered, voice steady with conviction.

He simply rolled his eyes, lips twitching, and you shook your head with a scoff.

“Is your father in on this too? God, I bet Tony Stark is just eating this up,” you complained.

The tone of Peter’s chuckle gave you pause, and you eyed him as he grinned at you.

“Quite the opposite actually…”

You frowned, and God help you, because you found yourself…offended.

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you or something?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

You didn’t want to marry Peter, but you knew that you were more than good enough for a guy like him. The truth was that Peter wasn’t good enough for you. He shook his head, picking at a piece of lint on your shoulder as he hummed.

“No actually. In fact, he’d dare say that you are out of my league, and I’d be forced to agree,” he told you with a shrug. “He thinks you’re too much of a ‘wild card’.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, nodding as you understood what that meant.

“I see. So he wants you to marry a meek and submissive little thing who will do everything you say and conform to the Stark image. Got it,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned it, finger trailing along your collarbone now as he eyed you.

“He thinks that you march to the beat of your own drum…and you do…,” he said, smirk growing as his gaze met yours. “…but I think I can handle you just fine.”

You slapped his hand away, disgust filling you just as the car stopped.

“We’re at your place. Get out,” you sneered, looking away from him.

“Care to join me? No one’s home…we’ll have the whole place to ourselves…”

You opted for ignoring him and the way his voice lowered, the hidden meaning in his question loud and clear. When some time passed, he finally sighed, and you heard the car door open. When it didn’t close, you turned to see Peter standing outside, one hand pressed onto the top of the car door while the other rested on the hood of the car as he leaned down.

A dark strand fell out of place and brushed along his forehead, dark eyes somehow darker as he trailed them over your tense form. His smirk slowly fell, and you blinked at the less than humorous expression on his face. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Peter so serious.

“You really shouldn’t try so hard to show your dislike for me…”

You frowned at him, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards just a tad.

“…someone might think you’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could process that, he’d closed the door. He didn’t go inside right away, instead opting for standing on the curb to watch your father’s car drive away.

When your father said that you’d be seeing a lot more of Peter over the break, you underestimated just how determined the old man was to get you and the Stark heir together. Every innocent gathering turned into a run-in with Tony and his wife, Pepper, and Peter. Whether it was brunch or dinner or a shopping trip. Hell, even an innocent day at the park had you coming face to face with who you now liked to refer to as ‘the pain in your ass’.

Had you known that this is what your winter break would entail, you would have fought tooth and nail with your father on it. You felt like this was such a waste of time, one big joke that you’d walked into and you were the punchline. You had no idea how much worse it could get.

You were currently in the hallway of the home that belonged to none other than the Starks. You were killing time by fleetingly looking at the artwork that was hung up on the dark walls, a half empty glass of some brown liquor in your hand. You could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and your father drifting to you from the lounge, and you rolled your eyes.

When your father had told you that you’d be joining them for dinner, you thought it’d be in their apartment in the city. Some place that you could easily escape if need be. You never would have agreed if you’d known you’d be in upstate New York hours later, conversing with them in one of their many secluded vacation houses. Dinner was long over, and you had no desire to be privy to anymore of their business talk. Peter had scurried off to only God knows where, and you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Perhaps you should have.

Your mood soured even further as you felt an arm slide over your shoulders to curl around your neck, pulling you back into a firm chest. Peter hummed, and you sighed. The story of your lives.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he wondered, gesturing to the painting. “I picked it out. I thought it would brighten the place up a bit.”

You threw his arm off of you, and he chuckled.

“Don’t look so glum, Y/N. The grownups are knee deep into stock market talk, which means they won’t even think about us for another hour at the least…”

You looked to the ceiling as he slipped an arm around your waist, praying for some higher power to strike you down. Or him. You’d be happy either way.

“Surely we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” he murmured.

You turned to face him and turned your head again just in time for his lips to brush the skin of your cheek. You pushed yourself away from him with a frown, backing up until your back rested against the opposite wall.

“Whatever happened to MJ?” you suddenly asked him, a faint smile on your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

Peter smirked, leaning against the other wall as he stared you down, raising an eyebrow at you, dark suit hugging him nicely.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hardly,” you snorted. “My father likes to bring up you and your personal life every chance he gets. Of course, now I know why. I was shocked to find out that you had a girl in your life who stuck around for more than two months.”

“She was too much like you,” he dismissively said. “She wanted to travel and see the world and make a difference. There’s only room for one girl like that in my life. Anything more, and things would start to get a little…dull.”

You hummed, pushing away from the wall to walk past him. Peter followed, and your mind spun.

“What exactly are you going to do when I finally meet a nice guy to get serious with? Surely, this behavior can’t go on forever, Peter,” you wondered.

He grabbed your elbow and gently pushed you into the wall. His other hand was beside your head, dark eyes narrowed and inquiring. You sharply inhaled, unintentionally breathing in the scent of him, and you blinked.

“What nice guy could you possibly meet at that sad excuse of a school you call-?”

“I don’t know how to break it to you that an Ivy League education isn’t exactly the picture of intelligence you think it is,” you sneered at him.

His own face grew taut as he glared at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that why you turned down your acceptance to Princeton? To prove some silly point?”

“For your information, Peter, I turned down my acceptance because I learned that the main reason I got in was because of my father.”

“So what? What is the point of our parents working their asses off for years if not to give us the opportunities they didn’t have growing up? When are you going to drop this holier-than-thou wannabe Mother Teresa act?”

“It’s not an act,” you spat, shoving him away from you. “This world? This way of life and everything that comes with it? I hate it. I despise everything about it. Its sickening that we live like we do while people down the street struggle to keep a roof over their heads. What is it to you, anyway?”

Peter ran his hand through his hair, huffing as he stared you down.

“You and me?” he started, gesturing between the two of you, his other hand on his hip. “We could’ve been unstoppable together. We were supposed to go to Princeton together. We were supposed to leave our mark on that campus together, create a legacy, and make a name for ourselves on our own, and instead I’m doing that by myself while you go off galivanting down south-.”

“Is that what this is about?” you demanded, incredulity filling your voice. “…some fantasy in your mind that we’d be some power couple who’d go on to take over after our fathers and rule the upper east side? Seriously? That’s a new one, even for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, nostrils flaring as he ran his eyes over you with the nastiest look you’d ever seen on his boyish face.

“You can run all you like…reinvent yourself all you want…”

His voice lowered as he approached you, and you stood your ground, glowering at him.

“…but you will never escape this life,” he threw at you, and you flinched at his harsh tone.

“That may be true…but I can still try,” you whispered.

The corner of his lips lifted into a mocking smirk.

“Try all you want. Hell, jump into a relationship with the next guy you have some anthropology project with for all I care. We both know that the only guy to give you the life you deserve…to give you what you need…”

He reached to fix a stray hair that had come out of place, smirk smug and eyes smugger.

“…is a guy like me.”

You stumbled away from him with a frown, arms folded over your chest.

“Screw you, Peter.”

You turned away from him to go find your father.

Peter had always been an annoying thorn in your side, but his behavior tonight had reached new heights. It amazed you, really, how far he was willing to go just to finally get you into bed. He had never had any problem being an asshole, but there was a shift in him tonight. His tone was harsher, words meaner, eyes just a tad bit icier than normal. In fact, it almost seemed like it wasn’t his usual cruel teasing.

When you finally neared the lounge, you frowned at the words that reached you.

“She’ll probably be a bit bitter about it at first, but I’m sure Y/N will grow to love it. This will be an amazing opportunity for her.”

You recognized your father’s voice, and you slowed just before finally entering, listening in.

“I was surprised to hear that she’s transferring, which is why I had never initially considered her for the internship. I was under the impression that she wouldn’t be here to do it.”

Your frown deepened at Tony Stark’s words, a sinking feeling in your gut, and although you wanted to hear more, something in you prevented you from staying still and doing so. You stepped into the lounge, greeting them all with a smile before resting your gaze on your father.

“I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m feeling a bit ill,” you lied.

Perhaps it wasn’t a complete lie. Peter’s harsh words didn’t exactly leave you feeling the best, but your father believed you anyway. The two of you said your goodbyes to the Starks, even Peter who had slithered his way into the foyer eventually. He’d sent you off with that stupid smirk on his face, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The ride home was quiet. Your mind was too stuck on the snippet of conversation that you’d heard. You knew that it was about you, that much you had heard, but the talk about internships and transferring had you confused. Again, there was that sinking feeling in your gut, and it wouldn’t go away. You wanted to bring it up to your father, but he’d spent the entire next day in the office.

Your paranoia got the best of you though, and the next evening, you found yourself in his study, mind going a mile a minute as you poured over the papers you found. Shock coursed through you at every reveal, hands shaking and heart sinking in disbelief. That was how your father found you that night, perched in his desk chair, tearful eyes glaring up at him as he walked through the door. He sighed as soon as his eyes landed on the papers scattered all over his desk.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” you quietly pleaded.

You knew that it had to be, but you needed to hear him say it.

“You’ll be going to Princeton for your senior year. All of the paper work has been done and whatever needs to be transferred has been transferred,” he breathed, stepping into the room.

You shook your head in disbelief, tears spilling over. You were shocked to find yourself…shocked. You knew that your father didn’t approve of your new lifestyle and your plans for your future. You knew that it ran deep, and yet it had never occurred to you that he’d do something about it. You had foolishly thought that he’d let you make your own decisions.

This was the main reason you hated this world you were born into. The things that people could buy, could do, if they had enough money to do so scared you. It shouldn’t be allowed.

“…and the internship?”

You didn’t even care that you had revealed yourself to be eavesdropping last night. Your father stepped further into his study.

“You’ll be interning with Stark Industries immediately after graduation…”

You were out of his chair and stomping out of his office before he could even finish. He didn’t even call for you to come back, and why would he? His word was law. You both knew that this was going to happen, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The night air was cold, and you wished you’d grabbed a thicker coat before stepping outside. After all, the only thing you had on underneath was a flimsy dress. You’d had plans to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight after your talk with your father, but you had never imagined that the talk would reveal this.

A lot of people were out in the city. It was a Friday night, after all. There was some light snow falling, but you could hardly even see it because the tears had finally spilled over. You couldn’t remember a time where you were so angry that you’d cried. You were grateful to be in New York of all places, right now, because a girl crying on the sidewalk was the most normal thing someone would probably see.

You crossed the street to a less crowded sidewalk, still trying to wrap your head around what your father had done, when a sleek black limo slowed beside you. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it had the window not rolled down to reveal none other than Peter.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing he asked you.

Fed up with this night and having no patience for Peter Stark and all of his glory, you sneered at him.

“No,” you snapped.

You huffed when the limo rolled slowly along the street in time with your steps. Peter called to you, but you ignored him. What was he even doing out, right now? It was a Friday night. Shouldn’t he be at someone’s party participating in at least 2 illegal activities?

You sped up when you heard his door slam shut, but you weren’t quick enough. His firm hands grabbed you and turned you to face him, shaking you just a little as he ran his eyes over you, gaze lingering on your tearful one.

“Hey…”

“Go away, Peter,” you said, fighting to get out of his grip.

His hold tightened, and he stepped closer.

“It’s late. Why are you out here on the street like this? What happened?”

You snatched one arm out of his hold and shoved yourself away from him.

“Did you know?”

His brows furrowed, frowning slightly at your question. His cheeks were red from the cold, giving him a cherubic aura that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. Did you know that my father was getting me transferred to Princeton behind my back? That I’m supposed to be interning with your father as soon as I graduate?”

You registered the shock on his face, and he slowly shook his head, thrown by what you’d told him.

“No,” he softly said.

You crossed your arms over your chest, more tears falling.

“If I had known…I would’ve told you, Y/N.”

“Would you?” you scoffed.

His face hardened at your insinuation, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I would have. Look, I may hate this 180 that you’ve done with your life just as much as your father, but even I know that you’re going to do what you want anyway. You always have.”

He whispered the last part, and your gaze reluctantly met his. He pursed his lips, running his eyes over you as he reached for you.

“Where are you headed?” he wondered.

It hit you that you hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Your eyes widened, and you were sure that the panic and confusion was written all over your face. You shrugged, a few tears escaping.

“I…I don’t know,” you pathetically answered.

Peter softly sighed, pulling you towards the limo.

“Well, I was on my way to a party-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head. You didn’t know where you wanted to go, but you knew that a party was not it. He pulled on your jacket, and you stumbled towards him in your heels.

“Hey,” he softly said when your eyes started to stray, and you looked at him. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of champagne in the limo, a full tank of gas, and a driver who’s getting paid by the minute. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

You glanced away, thinking it over. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being near your father right now, and although Peter had shaken you last night, in the end, it was just him being his usual self. Your uneasiness from his words last night you wrote off to sensitivity and overthinking. You suddenly let out a humorless chuckle.

“You promise to get me really, really drunk?” you teased.

You were joking, but you honestly didn’t want to even remember your conversation with your father right now. That familiar smirk of his graced his lips as he threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the car.

“I promise to get you anything you want,” he purred.

The inside was warm, and you had almost forgotten how roomy limos could be. The L-shaped seating could easily fit 4 more people. True to Peter’s words, there was indeed two bottles of champagne on ice, and he reached for one as soon as the vehicle continued down the dark street.

You leaned your head against the window as he popped it open, getting you a glass. You felt defeated, and you were sure your face showed it as you took the offered drink from him.

“So what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head at Peter’s question.

“What can I do, Peter?” you quietly wondered with a shrug. “I mean… If my father is willing to go this far to get me where he wants me to be…? What’s stopping him from doing so again and again and again?”

Peter leaned back in his seat, eyeing you as you sipped on the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll never be free of him,” you said, more to yourself than Peter. “God, he really is going to get everything he wants. Looks like I’ll be seeing you in 3 years at our engagement party, after all.”

Peter slid along the seat to get closer to you, rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he dragged out. “Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You almost choked on your drink, and you incredulously eyed him.

“We’ve been over this before, and the answer is yes. That’s if we can even get you to walk down the aisle.”

Peter sighed, sitting his drink down.

“I would marry you,” he argued, looking at you.

“Come on, Peter. You’re just saying that!”

You took another sip, thankful for the liquid courage.

“It’s all a game to you. It always has been. The minute you finally get with me, it’ll be over. Hell…,” you said, thinking. “…maybe I should sleep with you so you’ll finally leave me alone.”

Peter laughed, resting his arm behind you on the back of the seat.

“If I had you, I’d never leave you alone,” he replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you barked a laugh. “Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he said, tone matching his words, and you fought to hold his intense gaze. “When are we finally going to get together?”

You glanced away.

“You’ve asked me this probably a hundred times, and the answer is always the same,” you murmured.

“When are we finally going to stop playing this game?”

Your eyes met his again, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game-.”

“I want you,” he whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure you heard him right. “You know that, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you.”

There was a frown on his face, and you swallowed.

“You want everyone,” you quietly replied, suddenly feeling very odd.

You scooted away from him just a tad, but he followed.

“When I have you, Y/N, I won’t treat you like those other girls,” he told you.

“Ha! How reassuring,” you sarcastically replied.

His hand rested on your arm, and you squirmed, head feeling a bit light.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand trailing upwards to brush along your shoulder before resting on your neck. “You’re my best girl…”

You blinked at him with a frown, and he tilted his head at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why would I treat my best girl like the rest?”

You shook your head, moving away from him some more.

“Maybe…maybe I should just go home after all. I’m not feeling so good, right now,” you told him, alarmed at how slurred your words were.

You watched as Peter reached to take another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he calmly said, taking your drink from your trembling fingers and setting it aside. “That would probably be the Rohypnol.”

You slowly blinked at him, trying to clear the fuzz from your head as you processed his words. Did he just say…Rohypnol? As in…?

“Roofie is the common term, also known as the date-rape drug.”

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt like you weren’t sliding away from him fast enough.

“Peter, this…this is a joke, right? You’re kidding…?”

He snorted, and even without his confirmation, you knew that he wasn’t kidding. Your head had been spinning for minutes now.

“Come on, Y/N. When have you ever known me to be a huge comedian?”

You fell against the door as you tried the handle, but it was locked, and that was when you really started to panic.

“Y/N.”

You ignored Peter as he called your name, opting instead for hitting against the partition. You heard Peter heave a sigh from behind you before his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you back. Your movements were sluggish and futile, but you fought against him anyway. He pulled you down onto his lap as he leaned back into the seat.

“Peter…”

Your words died in your throat as his hands clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you down until his lips met yours. The kiss was hungry, Peter a man starved as he moaned into your mouth. He was panting when he pulled away, chest heaving before he kissed you again.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying in vain to push yourself away from him. You gasped against his lips, heart stuttering when he flipped you, your frame now between his and the seat. He settled against you easily, fitting perfectly in between your legs as his fingers danced over you.

The buttons of your coat flew as he yanked it open, and you shivered. Peter paid no mind, running his hands over your exposed skin before sliding them under your dress. You felt like you were barely hanging onto consciousness, not even realizing when Peter had started to drag your underwear down your legs until they were already to your ankles.

You feebly kicked against him, but he simply grabbed your legs, spreading them to settle in between them once more. You could feel him hot and hard through his pants, and more tears kissed your eyes. How on earth had you missed this? You cursed yourself for not taking his behavior more seriously. For not listening to yourself last night.

Confident that you could not fight him off, one of his hands worked between your legs while the other worked to release himself. He was right to be confident, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your arms to work right. You felt like you were underwater, weighed down by sand.

“Peter,” you quietly pleaded again, and he shushed you.

You squirmed beneath him as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, hating how easy it was because of how wet you were. He pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue past your lips, and you trembled as you felt him line himself up with your entrance.

A high-pitched yelp left you as he filled you with one thrust. The moan that climbed out of his throat was low and long, and he cursed as you clenched around him. Your hand pressed against the back of the seat as he pulled back before snapping his hips into you again.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth.

One arm locked around your waist as he pulled you both into a sitting position, his throbbing cock still inside of you as he held you onto his lap. You pushed against him, but your arms buckled when he lifted his hips up into you.

You whimpered, falling against him, and both of his hands fell to grip your waist, tightly holding you as he fucked you. Your body couldn’t support itself, and you sagged against him, forehead pressing against his as your eyelashes fluttered. Your jacket was barely hanging onto you, and with one hand, he pulled it all the way off. He gripped the bottom of your sequined dress before bunching it around your hips.

You tried to push yourself up, push yourself off of him, but not only was his hold firm, your body was too under the influence of the drug he’d given you. You pathetically whimpered as you fell against him again, a sob caught in your chest. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, the strap of your dress falling, and you shuddered.

He pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your salty tears seeping into your mouth. Your head was light, mind spinning with the pleasure being forced onto you. You pressed your hand against the seat, attempting to push yourself away again when Peter spun you both, your back connecting with the seat as he laid you down, his clothed hips slapping against yours. He moaned into your mouth as you fluttered around him, and with a start, you realized that despite your unwillingness, an orgasm was creeping up on you.

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks as he kissed you again and again. His dark hair was falling into his forehead, sweat coating the strands, and your skin fared no better. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your stomach clenching, shamed and disgust coursing through you.

“Look at me,” Peter quietly demanded.

You shook your head but yelped when one of his hands reached to pinch your nipple through your dress. You peeled your eyes open, tears blurring your vision, but your gaze met his all the same.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured just as you clenched around him with a choked moan.

Your climax triggered his own, and he pushed into you a few more times before falling against you with a groan. You were both sweating and panting, and you felt the flames of sleep licking at the corners of your vision.

There was so much that you wanted to say to Peter, to scream at him, but you couldn’t form the words. You could only lay there as he kissed you again before pulling out of you, leaning back against the seat as he fixed himself. Sleep was just in your grasp, but you were scared to close your eyes. Scared of the man you thought you knew.

He spread his arm over the back of the seat, the other pulling your dress down, that annoying playful smirk dancing along his lips.

“I think a winter wedding would look absolutely beautiful.”

tags: @bamposworld @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @hurricanerin

#dark peter parker #Dark!Peter #dark fic #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker

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tartagliaxx · 3 years

Note

hi !! i really love your works and the way u write !!

may i request childe + dandelion ?? tysm in advance !! <3

“ CHILDE + DANDELION ”

━━ ☆ PAIRING: childe/reader

━━ ☆ GENRE: fluff

━━ ☆ SUMMARY: dandelion | faithfulness, overcoming challenges, youthful joy, granted wishes

━━ ☆ WARNINGS: established relationship

back then, very little was made for him.

childe— or perhaps it would be better to say 'ajax'— grew up with clothes too large for him. they were dull-colored and moth-eaten from overuse. his toys were never the latest of the snezhnayan trend, instead, they were antiques, dating back to his father's father and his years. food was never roasted steak or caramelized cakes. on its place were self-caught fishes stewed in tomato, incredibly bland because seasoning was the least of their problems.

he didn't grow up with a lot but he did grow up with midnight hot cocoa runs with his elder sister. his version of a vacation was down by the river a few miles north where his older brothers would push him across the ice before skidding into a stop right before he crashes into a tree. education came in worn-out books read to him by his father and sometimes, it came from the quiet nostalgia of his mother as she knitted yet another sweater for her children— things she wished she had done, things she wished she hadn't done, and things she hoped he will do in the future.

now, he could twist and bend the world however he sees it fit. most of it, at least.

tartaglia jumps from one continent to the other with the finest blades one could find, value no doubt exceeding that of an entire village. he buys all sorts of toys without a glance at their price tag and ships them off to teucer who remains to be blind to having barely anything. he dines in the most expensive kiosks, cuisines he could only dream about at the tip of his fork and they were everything but never bland.

he lived with so many in his grasp and sometimes it's too much because now, all he asks for is more time. forget caviar and fancy fusion dishes, the charred seafood his father grills is far better than those. forget ballgowns and suits, he'd much rather wear that ratty, old sweater he used to hate with all his heart. forget mora and gold and fancy lifestyles because nothing could compare to the cozy, little cabin he grew up in nor could they stand a chance against the people who watched him be who he was now.

all his life he was never selfish. he never pestered his mother for that toy the whole town was crazed for nor did he complain at the tsaritsa's feet when he's shipped off to yet another place he didn't care for. he dealt with it, adjusted, and went on— like a true warrior, he says with an almost bitter smile.

but now, could he be given the luxury to want? to seek and be mad when it's not given? for once, could he be a selfish man who didn't have to worry about someone else's sake?

a minute, an hour, a day, a week, a month, a year longer. he'd take anything as long as he could spend more time with you. chuckling, he lifted his hand as he brushes off a stray strand of your hair that flapped wildly against the heavy liyue wind.

"careful, don't go slipping or dying on me now."

you sent him a weak glare. "do you see that? yes childe, that's the moon. the sun hasn't even risen yet and you're already dragging me somewhere i don't know. forgive me if my half-asleep state is being too sluggish for you, mr. i-have-no-idea-normal-people-actually-sleep."

"now, now," he rose his hands in mock defense. "you don't have to make me sound so condescending. as a matter of fact, we're going ten times slower than what i would have preferred but you're not hearing me complain because i love you and i care about you."

"i swear to god i'm going to kill you someday."

slinging an arm around your shoulders, you could feel his laughter reverberate in his chest. "i'd like to see you try. i bet you'd look adorable."

"leave it to you to make a threat sound like it's some fun, cutesy activity."

"it could be? i mean, imagine laces and knives. in bed—" your stare hardened into something far more malicious. "just kidding!"

"you better. i'll happily castrate you right here and now."

"scary."

you chose to ignore his mocking comment knowing well by now that his true intentions were somewhere in between pissing you off until you could only desire for a fight or pissing you off until you pushed him against a tree and dealt with him. either way, you wouldn't let him have his way with you even if the latter does sound quite appealing.

surprisingly, he didn't push your buttons further. instead, he dropped his arm down to your waist where he grounded you with affectionate little rubs. with that, you went on with your journey to who knows where but if you were being honest, the destination barely mattered as long as you had him as your companion.

"this is—"

"stone gate, yes." he finished for you as he tugged you along to its peak.

"what are we doing here?"

childe hummed in thought— hesitating— before he turns to look at you with a bittersweet smile. "i wanted to take you out on one last date before i leave."

your face softened into one that showed sympathy and understanding. giving his hand a slow squeeze, you asked him to show you where he set up today's activities. while the deep-rooted sadness in his eyes didn't leave him completely, he did seem to brighten up when you switched the topics.

"it's right over there."

you laughed when he began recalling the events that lead to this— how he had to knock on xiangling's door at the dead of the night, how he had passed today's duties to ekaterina, and so forth. there was very little humor in his story but as he spun his arms wildly in between the events, the weight in your heart slowly began to ease.

"—so what do you think?"

"not bad for someone who usually just throws mora around."

"not bad, right? it's not much but i wanted to make today special."

the sudden solemness of the situation— of the reality you lived— sank in too suddenly. so deep in love, you didn't notice how the sun has risen bringing with it a fastly ticking clock that marked childe's departure from liyue. that clock stood waiting, menacing with the claws it had on your neck and you had to remind yourself to stay strong because he didn't need to worry about the tears that were sure to spill when he's already halfway through the ocean.

"wait here for a second."

you blinked, surprised at childe's sudden exit. for someone who was going on and on about not wanting to leave, he sure did leave in a hurry. averting your eyes with a soft smile, they landed on a bunch of jueyeun chilies. you immediately thought of xiangling who went out of her way to make all of this possible when she didn't need to. perhaps you should bring some back.

"ok, i'm back. close your eyes." you furrowed your eyebrows, more than just a little confused. still, you did as he told you without much of a doubt. "hands out."

"i swear to god if you place a frog or a lizard in my hands—"

"don't you have faith in me?"

"not really." instead of being offended, childe cackled out loud and that was enough to make your day.

something fuzzy and light landed on your outstretched hand. it was strange, not something you were used to feeling but it wasn't unwelcome. in fact, there was something vaguely comforting about the feather-like weight on your hand.

"open."

dandelions?

"i don't know if you'd prefer a massive bouquet of roses but i didn't prepare that so," childe rubbed the back of his neck in shame, an emotion you don't often see on the man, "i guess we'd have to make do."

"i like them." you interrupted his words, knowing that the next thing that would slip out of his mouth was going to be an apology.

"really? i guess i'm pretty lucky huh?" in a way he was. luck was the only reason he could think of when he thinks about the odds of meeting someone who loved him as much as you did.

"when—" he swallowed, taking the smallest dandelion in your hands and knotting it to form a makeshift ring, "when you look at dandelions, remember me."

you watched as he slid the ring on your fingers, heart torn and mended at the same time. "i know it wouldn't be easy but... the distance from here to snezhnaya wouldn't deter me. i'll love you and only you. no matter what."

"i know. i know you would and as do i."

bumping your foreheads together, you lifted your hand— the one that held his ring of promise— and allowed it to rest by his cheek. just this once, you hoped it was alright to be selfish and wish that time would pass by slower.

━━ ☆ NOTES: hello!! you’re very sweet! thanks for joining and saying that! i hope this is to your liking! view the rest of the event shorts here! 💐

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mostlycompetentwriter · 3 years

Note

Anything you write is so amazing so can I please request a marriage au and possibly mafia with Hyunjin. You can pick the plot!!

Hi! I’m not sure if you wanted smut, but I was inspired to write smut. Please enjoy.

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Hyunjin

Genre: Mafia AU; Marriage AU

Warnings: Language and Smut

Word Count: 1.7K

It was cold when you pulled up to your expensive estate, bundled up in a luxurious coat and an evening gown that cost more than the car your driver had brought you home in. But no amount of money could improve your current mood, silently loathing your husband’s insistence, yet again, that you return home early and miss out on all the fun at your best performing club.

“Fuck him,” you decided aloud, slamming the door closed behind you as you marched along the neat sidewalk leading to the front door.

For the past several weeks, you had done your best to run the club downtown where you entertained the wealthy patrons who enjoyed the rare alcohol selections from the bar. You were the reason why the club was so successful, but then everything seemingly changed overnight, and you would always blame the drunk, inconsiderate asshole who started a huge fight that had to be broken up by every security guard you had hired.

By the time Hyunjin arrived on the scene, your husband was incensed, and he enforced a very strict curfew that prevented you from staying in the club past nightfall. “Extra security measures my ass,” you growled. “Who else is gonna run that place while he drives around town making all sorts of deals?”

He hadn’t always been that protective. When Hyunjin found you after taking over your father’s pathetic excuse for an organization, merging the two together, and sealing the deal by asking for permission to marry you - the gorgeous daughter who could certainly handle herself in a fight - he promised that you would be involved in every aspect of his underground mafia dealings.

But then the fight happened, and you were stuck at home bored out of your mind while you resented Hyunjin’s decision to keep you locked up like some kind of animal. The anger and frustration continued to grow each night you found yourself gazing out the window in the living room and wondered what was happening to the rest of the world while huge, well-armed security guards walked the premises of your home and kept you inside. “I’m not doing this anymore,” you decided, and you didn’t even bother to change out of your club skirt before planting yourself at the mini-bar in the kitchen where you would wait for Hyunjin to drag his ass back home. “I won’t stand down!”

It was a worthy declaration, and you were in the process of rehearing everything you wanted to say to Hyunjin, ruminating over the past few weeks of isolation while glancing at the fancy clock ticking away in the background. The hour had entered the early AM when you heard the front door open, followed by the sound of Hyunjin’s voice as he spoke on the phone to one of his subordinates. “We’ll meet with him this Friday,” Hyunjin said, and you watched him walk into the kitchen, startling when he realized you were still awake. “Yeah, I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

You smirked, waiting until he hung up the phone before speaking. “It’s about time you get here.”

“I had some things to take care of,” Hyunjin replied, and he must’ve been ignorant to your foul mood as he walked over to spread your thighs, making himself comfortable between them. “You’re still all dressed up.”

“We need to talk,” you said, deciding that it was best to get straight to the point.

“Sweetheart, what’s your problem?” Hyunjin asked, and you frowned as he started messing with the knot on his tie.

“My problem is you, Hyunjin,” you snapped, furious that he was being so nonchalant.

“Me?” Hyunjin scoffed. “What the hell did I do wrong?”

“Really?” You rolled your eyes at how dense he was. “Can’t think of anything?”

“Is it because I’m home so late?” he asked. “You know I work late sometimes, baby.”

“Quit calling me that,” you growled. “I’m talking about the new club. You know I’m the best person to run it, but you keep sending me home like I’m a kid or something.”

Hyunjin smiled. “Is that all? You’re precious to me, baby,” Hyunjin whispered, kissing you like you were something delicate to be treasured.

“My father taught me how to use a knife when I was ten,” you hissed against the seam of his mouth, pulling back to glare at Hyunjin. “I’m not a flower.”

Hyunjin scowled, and you realized that you had said something to piss him off, swallowing hard when he grabbed your arm even while trying to keep on a mask of false bravado. “I just wanted to come home and make love to my wife,” he said, and you winced when the hold around your arm grew tighter. “No,” he continued, and all previous semblances of softness were gone. “You want to be fucked, isn’t that right?”

“I want to be treated with respect!” you protested, yelping in pain when he forced you up out of your chair only to spin you around and bend your entire upper half over the counter.

“Is that right?” he growled into your ear. “You want me to let you do whatever the hell you want?”

“I can protect myself,” you said. “I did it before I met you!”

“But you have me now, sweetheart,” Hyunjin cooed, and you shivered when he started sliding your skirt down your thighs.

“I don’t need you to boss me around,” you insisted, even though it was quite obvious that Hyunjin had had enough of your attitude.

“Speak like that to me again,” he snarled, landing a sharp slap to the flesh of your ass.

“What are you gonna do?” you challenged him. “Fuck the fight out of me? Act like the big bad mafia boss who orders everyone around?”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered, and your next words were wiped clean around a moan when two of his fingers immediately penetrated your tight cunt. “Not so mouthy now,” Hyunjin said, and you whimpered at his tone, legs shaking at the fast movements of his fingers against your delicate walls, grazing that sweet spot with every stroke.

“This isn’t fair!” you whined, but Hyunjin only laughed in response, wrapping his free arm around your waist as he brought you back against his chest, curling his fingers just right as he flexed his wrist with talented motions.

“You’ll cum once like this from my fingers,” he said. “And then once from my cock.”

“Is this your way of controlling me?” you asked, wincing when he abruptly removed his fingers and allowed you to tall back down against the counter.

“It’s my way of loving you,” Hyunjin said, and you could hear the raw emotion in his voice. “I just want you to be safe and happy, Y/N.”

“Hyunjin...” you tried, but there was no finishing a coherent sentence when his fingers were back on your clit, drawing harsh little circles with his thumb while three fingers stretched the walls of your still-tender pussy, pushing you closer to the edge while murmuring sweet nothings into the hair at the back of your neck.

“Feel good for me,” he said, and you choked around a stuttered exhale when your first orgasm of the night left you reeling from Hyunjin’s dramatic shift to something soft and decidedly un-mafia-like.

“Baby,” you sighed, allowing your forehead to touch the cool surface of the counter to alleviate the sweat building there, groaning when Hyunjin slid down your panties and started working apart his well-pressed suit pants.

“You can cum again for me, Y/N,” Hyunjin said, and despite the ache in your core, you spread your legs even wider for him when he started to push his cock between your gaping walls, replacing the spaces where his fingers had previously brought you to the edge. “So tight,” Hyunjin moaned, and his hands held firmly to your hips as he started pounding immediately, leaving you no time to adjust; although, you were already prepared for him because of the mess he had made from finger fucking you into oblivion.

“Shit your cock is amazing,” you cried, tossing back your head against the fresh waves of pleasure, closing your eyes as you took everything he was giving you.

It almost felt like a peace offering, especially when your husband was more than inclined to take you over any available surface of your lavish home.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin grunted, and you could practically feel his proud smirk as he gave you all his attention, working his cock at different angles and listening for your reactions: staccato moans and dramatic cries of his name. “Tell me when you’re close.”

“Soon,” you promised him, arching your back just a little more because it gave Hyunjin better leverage to hit your g-spot on every thrust.

He took the hint, grinding his hips against your ass and working you over as only someone who had spent years learning your body could. “Do you need me to touch you?” he asked and you nodded fiercely, unable to resist the tears that started to fall when one hand returned to your throbbing clitoris, giving it some much-needed attention as the rest of you started to fall apart.

“I’m coming!” you cried, looking back over at your husband and nearly losing it at the sight of his concentrated expression. Sweat falling down the sides of his hairline, eyes focused on the place where he was pumping his cock inside of you, expression shadowed by the same lust and desire curling at the place where he was working you with his cock and fingers. “Hyunjin!” you shouted, losing every single last reserve of your inhibitions as you came for a second time, panting and desperate for him as he gave two deep thrusts before his cum joined your own.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he growled, pulling his cock from your ruined cunt as you held on to the counter with whatever strength you had left since your legs almost felt numb from his prior ministrations. “I got you,” he said, reaching down to collect you into his arms, holding you close as he brought you both upstairs to your shared bedroom.

You sighed at the feeling of the satin sheets against your lower back, reminders of the extravagances that his mafia dealings could afford you both, reaching over to wrap an arm around Hyunjin’s waist to keep him close. “I know that you love me, baby,” you said, drawing his attention. “But I still want to work the club at night.”

“Y/N,” Hyunjin growled, and you savored the wild, animalistic look in his gaze that promised you both a very long night.

#hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin drabbles #hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #mostlycompetent

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

I didn't know that you still wrote adsom.. if you're willing to take prompts - and it's totally okay if you aren't - I think I saw an old ask about Holland trying on kell's coat?

Hey, Anon! Sorry, I went to sleep last night just as this ask came in, I think. I took some time to think it over today and here, I have a little something for you. I hope you see it! Sorry again about missing it when it came in.

Holland Vosijk was not a man driven by flights of fancy. He had been, just a little, before Talya and the violent loss of his vision of a world he could simply live in. Now, though, everything but unwilling, unwanted survival had been burned away.

He would have called himself forged by fire, but most things forged become stronger afterward, and Holland rarely felt that way.

He was not a man of whims - he was instead the hand and arm that acted out the whims of his monarchs, his masters, that obeyed the pulse of the curse carved into his chest.

So when he stepped into the inn and finds a very recognizable coat draped over a chair, the urge to pick it up surprised him.

He wasn't aware he could still have sudden thoughts like that.

The coat's owner was up at the bar itself, seemingly three ales deep and working on the fourth, his pretty brother at his side. Holland tried not to look at either of them, hoping he could go unnoticed.

If there was a bevy of whispers, well, perhaps the little princes would assume they were about them, not him.

He stepped slowly up to the table the two must have been sitting at, littered with the empty finished ale cups, half-eaten meals, and the damned coat.

It looked normal enough - luxe soft wool heavily treated, impossibly expensive, in the deep saturated red that all these Arnesian people seemed to take as 'their' color. It was hideously unflattering to the prince, with his pale skin turned too reddened by it, his red hair made to look dull when Holland knew damn well Kell's hair was shining and coppery and gleamed like coins in the sun when Holland very much wasn't looking at him in the slightest-

Stop it.

He had come here to drink himself to senselessness in a world where his monarchs could not trace him, could not pay some citizen to speak of his whereabouts, could not torture some innocent youth who merely saw him pass on the street.

And yet...

He allowed his fingertips to run, just for a moment, along the line of the chair's back through the coat. He felt over a hint of golden thread sewn in along the lapel. Red and gold, pointless sickening luxury in a world grown fat on the magic it stole from a dying one.

In a sudden fit of violence, he jerked the jacket off the chair into his hands. The chair, knocked off-balance, toppled backwards onto the floor with a loud CRACK.

The inn went briefly quiet, and Holland felt two dozen pairs of Arnesian eyes quite suddenly land entirely and only on him.

Including those of the princes.

"Holland?" It was Rhy who spoke first, and drunk or not, the Arnesian prince slipped into an immediate smiling brilliance. Difficult to resist.

Holland, though, had an inborn defense against idiot princes. He, after all, spent his days and nights tortured by an idiot king.

"Have you come by to grace us with your company?" Rhy smiled, tilting his head. His amber-yellow eyes sparkled with the drink coursing through his veins.

If Astrid drank his blood, Holland thought idly, she might get drunk on it.

"No," he said, shortly, and turned, walking outside as quickly as he could, before the faintest blush in his cheeks might become visible, before they could read embarrassment even in his faded skin, his washed-out color.

He made it out into the street before he realized he still had Kell Maresh's coat in his hand.

He couldn't very well go back in and give it back, now could he? Admitting to that embarrassment would be a crime far worse than simple theft.

Instead, he walked quickly, turning left into an alleyway just as he heard the door open behind him and Kell's voice ring out, "Hey! He's got my coat!" with a note of nervous trepidation that had Holland rolling his eyes.

Like Holland didn't already know Kell smuggled between worlds. He'd been tracking him at it for months. Years, even.

That nasty little habit would get the redheaded Arnesian prince in trouble one day.

He came to a stop in a spot of near-total darkness down by the docks, the gentle sound of the river lapping at the shore a soothing balm. The Isle glowed a brilliant red, the usual nighttime sky in London, stars only vaguely visible through its haze.

They had so much magic. How little of it they could have shared and saved Makt.

Holland very nearly threw the coat in the damn Isle to drown the way he sometimes wished he could drown the entire Arnesian royal family before... before that damn whim struck again.

He turned the coat inside out.

The red became white, a white that nearly blinded him, with black thread. He frowned.

"No," He said out loud in the Royal language of Arnes.

He turned the coat inside-out again.

This time it was a pale robins-egg blue, with embroidered birds along the lapel. He wrinkled his nose.

"Absolutely not."

He tried one more time.

The third time, indeed, was the charm - the coat this time was a deep black, so solid it seemed to soak up light entirely. The embroidered cuffs and lapel were white, a series of spirals that made him think of a time long, long ago, when the doors were open to all.

It reminded him of how they once dressed in a London now dead and gone, entirely overrun by magic it grew addicted to rather than tightly controlled.

He sighed and undid the silver clasp for his half-cloak, pulling it off and carefully laying it over a short wrought-iron stair railing for a building next to him. The silver winked slightly in the red light of the Isle.

He slipped his arm into one sleeve and then the other, fully expecting them to be far too long - Kell was tall and lanky, after all, while Holland was far more compactly built, and short like the rest of Makt after a life spent working and fighting for every bite of food left.

The coat fit perfectly, as if tailored only for him.

He looked down at himself, and then up, finding a windowpane where he could see his own reflection.

He looked... Arnesian, almost.

Not quite - his hair was too faded, the deep black of his childhood gone charcoal-gray with the way the world had of leeching magic and life out of everyone. His skin was too pale, his Antari eye stood out like it did everywhere else.

And yet...

"Not bad," Kell Maresh said, and Holland's heart skipped a beat in surprise. It took all his willpower not to visibly flinch.

He instead turned smoothly, slowly, as if he had known the redhead was there all along. "I am glad you think so," He said in a dry voice devoid of sincerity. "It is unkind to follow a man at night, lile prins."

"Well, you ran off before I could talk to you," Kell pointed out, walking towards him. There was a high red spot in each cheek and a gleam to his blue eye that said he was still drunk.

"You could have as many coats as you wished, what is a few gold coins to a prince to replace it?"

"True. But that is my coat. It cannot be replaced."

"It could be my coat, if I wished it to be."

"It's not, though. Plus..." Kell's expression went into a kind of teasing look that made Holland uncomfortable and also oddly... interested in if this was what it looked like to see the Maresh prince flirt. It was awkward. It was endearing. "It is also unkind to steal a drunk man's clothing."

Holland hummed. "I am not a man known for kindness," He said, sliding the coat back off and folding it over his arm.

When Kell came closer - and he smelled of the flowery odd sort of beer they made and drank here, damn near wine. "And yet I think you have kindness in you that you will never express."

Holland stared at him, shocked. Kell Maresh often seemed to have little more sense than the gods gave a goat, and yet...

Perhaps the beer had loosened some kind of wisdom in him. There were stranger, less believable things in the worlds.

He held his hand out for the coat, and Holland, still too surprised to really think, simply handed it back. "Thank you," Kell said. He flipped the coat inside-out twice, until it was back to the color and style he liked, and slipped it on. "Why did you take it?"

"I don't know." It was, for once, a truly honest answer.

Kell considered, and then nodded, slowly. "I'll see you around," He said, stood there awkwardly waiting for Holland to reciprocate the farewell and receiving only silence in return, and then he turned and walked away, back towards the inn and his brother.

Holland watched him go, not quite sure what held him to the spot, but he found himself unwilling to move until the last sight of the other Antari's red hair shimmering with the light of the Isle was gone.

Holland inhaled, and the air smelled of roses, with a kind of steel underneath.

"For some reason," he murmured, "I genuinely don't want them to make me kill you."

Perhaps he could find some other way.

#adsom #adsom fanfiction #adsom fanfic #a darker shade of magic #kell maresh #holland vosijk #agos #acol #ve schwab #some light hinted at kelland here but mostly canon compliant #reluctantly so

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