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john-get-the-salt · 3 months

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Oblivious (w/Derek Morgan)

Imagine: From strangers, to coworkers, to friends, to…? The evolution of you and Derek

Contains: Derek getting nervous/panicking when his usual flirting doesn’t work, penny not so secretly trying to push you two together, new agent on the team! Au

Warnings: none

The quiet hum of the elevator was oddly comforting as you stood in it, watching the display as it went up up up…..

You couldn’t stop fidgeting, brushing non-existent dust off your dress pants and pulling on the sleeves of your sweater. You’d agonized for hours on what to wear to your first day at this new job. You wanted to be comfortable but also professional. The BAU didn’t have a tight dress code for the office, though it got strict when in the field.

You tried to steady your nerves, using your favorite mindfulness technique of breathing in, holding for 5 seconds, and then releasing. It worked a bit, your shoulders easing.

Your constant stream of thought was interrupted by the elevator beeping and opening its doors to your floor.

You filled before leaving the safety of the elevator and walking through another lobby area towards a set of glass doors.

'Behavioral Analysis Unit' was printed in large black letters, and they seemed to loom over you. Before you could reach for the door handle, a blonde woman stepped up beside you.

"Let me guess, first day?"

You smiled ruefully. The woman wore colorful clothes with blue glasses perched on her nose.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Not at all,” she lied. “Do you need help finding the right office?" She offered.

Your smile widened in relief, "That would be great. I'm looking for Agent Hotchner, I'm joining his team."

Your final interview happened in person with the Agent, but it'd been a few weeks and you didn't want to risk getting lost.

Her eyes lit up. "You're the new recruit! I'm Penelope, but everyone calls me Garcia. I was just heading in, I can show you the way."

You thanked her and followed her through the glass doors. The BAU floor was as busy as you expected. People were weaving about, clutching coffee and files and paperwork.

Garcia led you through the floor, towards a row of raised offices. She knocked on the door to the first one, giving you a thumbs up before scurrying away.

“Come in.”

With one last deep breath, you opened the door.

Agent Hotchner was rising from his desk as you stepped in. He offered you his hand and you shook it firmly.

“Agent Hotchner, good morning.”

“Good morning. Hotch is ok. Good to see you again.”

“You as well.”

He gestured to the chair in front of his desk and you took a seat as the two of you went over some general pre-boarding information. You also received your badge and other keys to get around the office building.

Hotch explained that the team didn't yet have a case for the day, but he'd called a meeting so everyone could meet you. Afterwards you would be working on paperwork for the day, unless the team was needed elsewhere. That was fine with you, someone who actually enjoyed paperwork, and you followed as your new boss led you out of his office and down the hall.

You approached a conference room and could see it was already full. Of course as soon as you stepped into the room all eyes were on you. You held your chin high and met their gazes evenly. As nervous as you were joining a new team, you were confident in yourself and your abilities. You’d been hired for a reason, and you had to believe that.

"Team, this is Agent (y/n)."

They stood up one by one, introducing themselves with either a handshake or a nod. David, J.J, Derek, Spencer, Emily, and Penelope once again. You committed the names to memory, introducing yourself.

"We haven't had anything come in yet today, but we all have plenty of paperwork to keep us busy." And with a nod Hotch was gone again.

You have looked a bit stunned, as Rossi chuckled. "He isn't much of a talker."

“I respect it. Straight to the point."

You turned to Garcia as the team began filing out of the room, “Thank you again, for this morning."

Her smile got even brighter, something you didn't think was possible..

“Oh of course! Not a problem at all. Do you need me to help you find your desk?”

You chuckled. "No, Hotch pointed it out for me. But we could pretend you're helping me and chat on the way."

"Ohhhh new girl I like you."

She led the way out of the conference room and down the stairs into the pen of desks and agents. She asked a lot of questions, which you answered as quickly as you could. It was a lot of basic stuff about what you liked to do and where you had worked before this. It was incredibly relieving having someone so kind and so willing to talk you. And it was endearing to see how enthusiastic she was to learn about you.

Unfortunately, you did eventually make it to your desk and she had to leave you.

"This is your stop," she sighed dramatically. "I suppose I should return to my cave now."

You laughed, setting down your bag at your new desk. She’d told you all about her little tech cave and already told you were welcome to stop by anytime.

Your desk was situated by Derek and Emily’s and you shot them both a smile as you sat down.

"I'll be here all day, Penelope. And who knows, I might get lost trying to get lunch."

She clapped her hands. "Yes! Lunch! Ok my love I shall go and see you again at lunch!"

You smiled and waved as she hustled away.

"You two are already getting along well," Derek noted.

“I guess so. She's incredibly sweet."

He had no argument with that, and went quiet again as you clicked your pen and opened your folder. The towering stack of paperwork probably would've made other agents feel faint. But you couldn't help but feel content. As much as you loved working in the field, you'd been through enough crazy circumstances that you would never take advantage of a peaceful desk day.

"Yikes," Emily winced, catching a glance at the work in front of you. "Newbie paperwork....no joke."

"Call me crazy, but I actually do not mind paperwork."

She fake gasped and you laughed. "I know, I know. Controversial opinion. It just feels so satisfying to get it done."

"You and pretty boy would get along great."

You raised an eyebrow at Derek so he clarified, "Reid, aka pretty boy."

"Ah, no love for paperwork yourself?"

He gave you a dazzling smile that you were sure made other girls swoon. "Unfortunately we don't all get excited for desk work, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes, but shot him a smile so he knew you were only kidding. The floor got quiet again as everyone finally settled in for the days work.

————

A month or so after that fateful first day, you couldn’t believe you’d ever been that nervous. Your coworkers was great, and after an awkward week or two you found your place and fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your BAU team.

You’d made friends with everyone on the team in different ways, though the biggest surprise had been Derek. You two just worked, and often got paired together out in the field. You made a good team. And though you had more than proved yourself in the short time since you’d started, Derek tended to keep an extra eye on you.

It was obnoxiously sunny out in Colorado, where the team was currently investigating a string of ritualistic murders. Hotch sent you and Derek to go check out the latest dumping ground, out in the middle of some barren desert land. Without any trees for shade the sun was particularly harsh.

Out of bad habit, you’d left your sunglasses back at the police station where you’d set up home base. This meant you were stuck squinting and trying to use your hands as a visor so you could see.

Luckily you only had to struggle for a few moments before Derek was nudging you and offering you his signature black sunglasses.

“Oh no, that’s ok Der. You need em. Next time i’ll just be smarter and remember mine.”

“That’s what you said last time baby girl. Which is why..” he trailed off as he pulled a second pair of identical glasses out of his back pocket. “I bought myself a backup pair.”

“Huh.” You chuckled before you took his offer and slid the glasses onto your face. “It’s almost like you knew I’d forget them.”

Derek just grinned, and the two of you got to work.

And when the two of you returned to the police station in your matching sunglasses, even Hotch cracked a smile.

————

A couple months after first meeting the team you couldn't imagine working anywhere else ever again.

You adored every single person in their own way, and you loved working with them every single day.

Hotch, stoic and closed off, was absolutely brilliant. He always seemed to know what the team needed even if you didn't yourselves. He was someone you really looked up too and idolized.

Jennifer, or JJ as everyone called her, was kickass. She was so good at handling press you would've thought she'd been doing it her entire life. You were in awe of her and absolutely adored her son Henry.

Emily, when you were first getting to know her, was a bit quiet and reserved. It took a while for her to open up to you, but with the help of some team work and margaritas she finally felt safe and comfortable around you. She was unbelievably sassy, and contrary to popular belief enjoyed playing pranks on the rest of the team.

Rossi was deceptively smart. He knew exactly how to get under an unsubs skin and look damn fly while doing it. You could only hope to be in the game as long as he was, and tried to mentally write down everything he ever said. He was currently in the process of trying to teach you how to cook, something you were slowly improving at.

Reid was the smartest person you had ever met. Hands down. He was easy to talk to and greeted you every morning with a fact of the day. It made you happy and he seemed to enjoy having someone to spout numbers at.

Penelope, or Penny as you now called her, was like the teams own personal sunshine. You had lunch together every day, and some weekends spent more time at her apartment than your own. The team had come to call you two sisters, and most days it really felt like you were. You two just got each other.

Last but not least was Derek Morgan. Derek was, to you, an enigma. His charm was always at +20 around you. Emily assured you that's just how he always was, but Penny seemed to think different. She was convinced you two had something going on.

But to be honest you really didn't know much about the man. You knew he liked baseball, loved sushi and secretly enjoyed fruity margaritas. He fixed houses in his spare time and had an uncanny ability to recite Brittney Spears word for word. You also knew he was incredibly good at getting what he needed out of unsubs, never afraid to take one for the team and do what needed to be done. He could also be a hothead, letting his anger take control and lash out.

Did you think he was attractive? Oh absolutely. Did he make you question every decision you'd ever made that led you to know such a fine man? No doubt. But he was was a friend, and a coworker at that.

Which was why as Penny bugged you at the coffee station about your "crush" for the millionth time one day, you thought nothing of it.

"Penny, we've been over this like a thousand times. There's nothing going on."

"What's going on?" Derek stepped up beside you, empty coffee mug in hand.

You rolled your eyes as you poured him a cup. "Nothing, just Pen getting overzealous per usual."

You smiled innocently at the glare your friend sent you before retreating back to your desk. It was only 1 p.m and you still had plenty to get done for the day.

Penelope and Derek loitered the coffee bar for another couple minutes before they dispersed, Derek returning to his desk beside yours.

"Baby girl is really on it today."

You snorted, not looking up from the current sheet you were filling out.

"You're telling me. I woke up this morning to 20 texts asking what I was going to wear today. She was worried she'd accidentally match again."

Morgan laughed, thinking back to the time you and Garcia had both come into work wearing the same sky blue dress. She loved you to death, but vowed it could never happen again.

You smiled softly, enjoying his laugh. It often made you laugh just hearing it. It was infectious, kind of like the man himself the more you thought about it.

"You doing anything exciting this weekend?"

"Don’t think so. If we actually get the days off I'll probably just sleep as long as humanly possible. Maybe try to cook. Rossi is not amused with my lack of progress in that department."

"You wanna go get Indian tonight?"

You perked up. "Yes please! I'll ask Spence if he wants to come, he didn't come last time and I really think he'd like the-"

"I don't want pretty boy to come," Derek interrupted.

You snapped your lips closed, raising an eyebrow. "Is this because of that prank phone call? Cause I'm sorry Der but that was hilarious and-"

"No Reid. Just us."

You furrowed your brows. Was he really still that pissed at Spencer for his dumb pranks? He always acted pissed but you thought he realized it was all for fun. Was there something else going on between the two of them?

He sighed. "You know, for a genius profiler you're pretty clueless."

"Hey! Who you calling clueless, clueless?"

He leaned forward over his desk, making direct eye contact and said, "I'm trying to ask you out on a date here."

Your mouth formed an o as the words sunk in.

A date. With Derek Morgan. Like a romantic date. With Derek. Date.

"Like a date? A date date?"

"You don't have to say yes if you don't want too, and I understand if you don't," he rambled on as you sat dumbfounded.

"Of course I want to go on a date with you. I just can't believe how fucking dumb I am."

He froze, searching your eyes for any tricks.

“Really?”

"I've been flirting with you for the past month, Der. I just can't believe you finally got the balls to ask me out and I was totally oblivious."

"Mama if you didn't think i was flirting back that entire time, you really are oblivious."

"Maybe I'm not, and you just need to step up your game. "

"Hey!" It was his turn to exclaim and you laughed.

"So Indian. Tonight. After work."

"It's a date."

#imagine #fanfic #drabble #criminal minds #fanfiction #x reader #criminal minds imagine #bau #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #criminal minds bau #criminal minds x reader

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shawtuzi · 2 years

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okay so i accidentally posted this earlier and didn’t even get to the actual smut so here’s the full version. it got a little soft at the end i’m sorry i can never resist a happy ending <//3

this is 18+///cw include: fem reader, black coded reader, slight alcohol use, cheating, soft dom!eren, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink???, creampie, choking, some fluff at the end///wc: 3.1k

eren absolutely hates your boyfriend. every time he drops your daughter off and sees you dressed up to go on a date with him he can’t help but feel jealousy course through his veins, or the burning rage that consumes him when he sees that tool sitting on your couch. the couch he used to cuddle with you on, made love to you on—shit you conceived your daughter on the damn couch and there he was tainting the good memories that sacred couch once had.

tonight was no different unfortunately. while you were waiting for your boyfriend at home to surprise him with dinner eren had stopped by unexpectedly, usually he came over for bullshit reasons such as your daughter left a hair bow at his place or forgot a sippy cup but tonight he had an actual good reason. carla had been nagging him for weeks to spend time with her granddaughter and he finally gave in and all was well until carla called in a panic saying his baby girl was having a nervous breakdown before bedtime because she didn’t have her favorite plushie <//3

so here eren was knocking on your door the faint smell of your famous pho hitting his nose. “you’re home- oh! can i help you with something eren?” you asked leaning against the door. eren looked you up and down his heart fluttering at the sight of you looking all dolled up. “you got your hair done…butterfly locs look good on you as always,”he smirked eyeing your freshly done hair. you looked absolutely stunning eren almost forgot you’re dressed like this for someone else and not him. you were expecting someone else and not him. “i did thanks for noticing now is everything okay? is emersyn okay?” your brows furrowed in worry and eren chuckled shaking his head, “emmy is fine it’s nothing too serious she just forgot her stuffed animal thing.”

you let out a sigh of relief before opening the door wider signaling for him to come in, “sit tight i’ll go find it.” eren nodded his eyes going right to your ass as soon as you turned around, “goddamn” he mumbled to himself adjusting his sweats in a not to subtle way. he rocked back and forth on his heels stopping when he heard his phone ring.

mother: emmy tired herself out and fell asleep just make sure to bring it with you when you pick her up in the morning!!

“yeah….uh huh yeah that’s fine….see you later,” eren heard you mutter coming down the stairs your infamous agitated look gracing your once smiling face. “what’s up? is it reiner?” eren raised his brow taking a few steps closer to you. you let out an annoyed sigh tossing the plushie at him, “nothing just- shit what does it matter you don’t care about anything having to do with me and reiner unless it’s news about us breaking up,” you snapped crossing your arms. eren scoffed taking a few steps closer to you, “you and i both know that shit ain’t true y/n i care about any and everything that has to do with you and emersyn.”

this time it was your turn to scoff, “give me a fucking break eren anytime i bring him up you start acting a fool saying he isn’t right for me” you hissed taking another step closer to him. eren wanted to be angry he really did, but you looked so damn adorable with that kissable pout on your face. he brought his hand to your face and stroked your cheek with him thumb just the way he knew you liked and he knew it was working by the way your eyes began to flutter, “now tell me what happened mama.”

you relaxed into his touch nibbling on your bottom lip before speaking, “reiner canceled on me….he’s working late tonight and i’m just upset because i got my hair done and i cooked all day just for him to cancel again. i broke up with you because i was tired of being neglected and now it’s happening all over again,” tears began to brim your eyes making eren’s heart ache. he wanted to cut in and talk shit on reiner as much as he could but he just let you continue to talk. “not only on dates but- but in bed too! he hasn’t touched me in weeks that’s why tonight was so important but i guess it doesn’t matter now. i don’t even know why im talking to you about this i’m sorry,” you sighed fighting the intense urge to nuzzle your face in his palm.

here was his chance. he knew it was wrong so so wrong but how could he ignore your obvious desperate cries for some proper attention. “he hasn’t been satisfying you very much huh? not like i used to at least…. is that what i’m hearing?” you wanted to say something smart and burst his ego but you couldn’t, not when he was so very right.

as much as eren neglected you emotionally during your relationship he always took care of you when it came to sex. on nights where he’d be out with his homeboys till three am he’d wake you up with his tongue lapping and sucking at your clit till you were begging him to fuck you. after intense fights he’d make it up to you by fucking you on the couch moaning empty promises into your ear saying he’d do better and be around more for you and emmy. even when you were pregnant as hell he still made sure your needs and his were taken care of in the bedroom. if only he had kept that same passion throughout your entire relationship maybe things would be different.

“h-how about i fix us up some dinner before you go i made your favorite,” you suddenly pulled away, offering eren a weak smile before walking to the kitchen. eren ran a hand through his hair glancing down at the hard on he was now sporting, “shit y/n fuck are you doing to me” he muttered trailing behind you. “i’m actually in no hurry my mom said emmy is asleep now,” he took a seat on one of the barstools at the counter adjusting himself before returning his attention back to you. “careful now it’s hot,” you smiled placing a bowl of pho in front of him. god even your smile made his dick twitch.

after eating and light conversation you decided to be risky offering eren a drink, “want some wine?” you asked setting your dishes in the sink. “you know i’m a dark liquor man y/n. got any henny?” he asked giving you that same panty dropping smirk that had you weak in the knees for him in the first place. “hennessy? you’re disgusting but yes i do,” you giggled grabbing the bottle from your liquor cabinet.

“that was delicious by the way i miss your cooking,” eren gave you a warm smile before taking a small sip of the drink you slid over to him. you took a long drink of the wine you poured for yourself before speaking, “i’ll bring you over leftovers whenever it’s my turn to drop emmy off at least someone eats my food. don’t get me wrong reiner loves it but he’s never really around much to enjoy it anymore,” you mumbled the last part swirling around the purple liquid in your glass.

after a few more drinks you were beginning to feel a little hot and having eren in front of you looking so good wasn’t helping in the slightest. you leant on forward attempting to cool off your hot skin on the marble counter causing eren to nearly choke on his drink seeing the way your breasts damn near popped out of the white floral pattered sundress you were wearing.

he sighed downing the rest of his drink before slamming the cup down the force nearly breaking it, “how ‘bout one more before i hit the road” he stood up and you almost started hyperventilating seeing that all too familiar print in his sweats. “you good mama?” he asked now choosing to stand next to you instead of sitting in his original spot. you couldn’t speak. you didn’t know if it was the two glasses of wine or just plain horniness clouding your mind but you knew either way you needed one thing and that one thing was eren and his stupidly good dick.

“i know that look, that’s the same look you gave me the night we made emmy,” he chuckled pouring himself another glass of henny. “remember that night like it was yesterday shit was so good we damn near broke the couch. i made you cum what? six times? couldn’t even move after i was done with you.”

“eren….” you whimpered squeezing your thighs together. “just let me take care of you for the night ma no one’s gotta know. lemme fuck you one last time you clearly need it—in fact i bet you’re soaked right now, you always got wet for me so easily” eren yanked you towards him by your arm slipping a hand under your dress before you could protest. “don’t ren s’embarrasinggg,” you whined gripping on his bicep but it was no use his fingers were already pressed against the very damp spot on your panties.

“fucking knew it, tell me y/n when’s the last time reiner fucked you and i mean actually fucked you,” he asked using his ring and middle finger to rub slow circles on your clit. your brain was screaming at you to rip his hand away and make him leave but you were thinking with your pussy on this one and it was telling you to let eren fuck you silly just one last time. “w-we had s-sex the other night,” your voice was so shaky it sounded like you were on the verge of crying. eren growled adding more pressure to his fingers, “and did you cum y/n? did he make you cum like i always did?” you shook your head in embarrassment now practically humping his fingers, “no….he-he never has.”

in a flash eren had you sitting on the counter your dress now bunched up at your waist, “and he never fucking will and why is that?” eren cocked his head to the side his nimble fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. “b-because he’s not you h-he’s not my renny,” your words brought a smile to eren’s face, he’d never felt more at ease than he did now knowing he was still your renny.

eren tore off your panties (a pair reiner had bought you) and tossed them to the side before bending down, tossing your legs over his broad shoulders. “tie my hair up for me will you?” eren asked pressing gentle kisses against your thighs. you grabbed the elastic from eren with shaking hands tying his hair up in a messy bun, “there n-now please do something m’so wet for you ren.” eren let out a low groan eyeing your soaked pussy before wrapping his kiss swollen lips around your clit. “ohhh shit,” you sighed dreamily your eyes fluttering shut and your head lolling to the side. eren was always an expert at giving head something reiner unfortunately wasn’t very good at (i’m lying so bad rn he is king of giving head but just go with it).

“that’s right baby feel good for me, fuck yourself on my tongue,” you hadn’t even noticed you were practically humping eren’s face not giving him very much time to breath, but he didn’t care of course not when you looked so pretty from this his view. embarrassing enough it only took a couple minutes for him to make you cum but he still kept going now adding his fingers into the mix. “fuck erennn,” you whined letting your back fall flat against the counter, the two glasses you and him were drinking from shattering on the ground but you just couldn’t find it in you to stop nor care.

after making you cum two more times on his tongue eren stood at his full height bringing you in for another messy kiss. “goddamn you taste better than i remember now lemme take this off ‘wanna see all of you again,” eren removed your dress fully leaving you bare in front of him and he wanted to curse his past self out for ever making you feel like you weren’t enough for him when you in fact were more than enough. he gripped your breasts in his hands kneading them together before attaching his lips to one of your nipples while his hand tweaked the other. “c-careful they’re still kinda sensitive,” you mumbled your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

eren chuckled letting go of your nipple with a lewd pop before speaking, “how could i forget? remember when i made you cum just by playing with them? fuck we had some good times and i wish i could ponder about them more but i really need to fuck you.” eren picked you up giving your ass a few harsh smacks before dropping you on the couch, immediately you sat on your knees tugging his sweats down allowing his dick to spring free. “lemme suck you off a little please?” you didn’t even give a chance to reply already wrapping your hand around the base squeezing softly. “agh shit okay okay gimme your hand,” you brought your hand out biting your lip harshly when eren spit in your hand wishing it was your mouth he was spitting in instead.

you stroked his dick softly and played with his balls while you suckled at the tip tonguing at his slit just the way he liked. “fuck that’s it there you go mama take a little more in your mouth i know you can i spent weeks training this throat,” you took more of his dick into your mouth but it wasn’t enough for eren he liked his head very messy. he yanked you back by your hair squishing your cheeks together, “need your mouth a little more wet” he grunted pushing his index and middle finger down your throat until you were basically drooling. you put your embarrassment to the side and got to work giving eren the nastiest sloppiest head he’s ever gotten in his life.

eren threw his head back with a loud groan unconsciously bucking his hips forward. his eyes snapped open when he felt you tongue at his balls and he pulled you back once against much to your dismay, “m’sorry i would let you continue but i really really need to fuck you y/n. now bend over the armrest and arch your back.” you did as you were told and decided to tease him just a little by spreading your folds giving him a mouthwatering view of your pretty pussy. “go slow ‘kay? it’s been a minute,” he heard you whisper and nodded giving your shoulder a gentle kiss before slowly pushing in. “oh my god,” you both moaned in unison the feeling of being this close once again making you feel a tad emotional.

you promised yourself you wouldn’t let this man weasel his way back into your life but it was so goddamn hard. eren was the first man to ever call you beautiful, he was your first boyfriend, your first kiss— every special moment you could have with someone you had done with him and it was so hard to just let all that go. not to mention he was the man that gave you your little angel and was an amazing dad to her despite how he acted towards you in the past.

“eren,” you moaned grinding yourself back against him a clear white sheen of your essence already coating his dick. “i know baby i know lemme take care of you,” he could almost cry at how amazing it felt to have you wrapped around him again but he sucked it up, grabbing both your wrists in his much larger hand before roughly thrusting into you. “shit shit shit!” you cried digging your nails into your palm. eren’s hair had completely fallen out of the bun his chocolate colored locs now swinging with every harsh thrust into your swollen pussy. i

eren wrapped his hand around your throat pushing you against his hard chest not once stopping his brutal pace, “what do you think reiner would say if he found out i fucked another baby into you? emmy has been saying she wants another sibling,” he chuckled darkly his grin growing when he heard you mutter out a tiny, “w-who?” eren felt himself get closer to the edge but he held back he had to make sure you were a babbling brain dead mess by the time he was through with you.

“who is right baby because he is fucking no one to you and if you give me one more chance i promise, i fucking promise i will give you everything and more i’m nothin’ without you y/n,” his words had you cumming on his dick a mixture of tears of pleasure and happiness streaming down your cheeks. eren gripped onto the armrest his knuckles turning a ghostly white at the feeling of you tightening around him like a vice, your cum trickling down his shaking thighs. “that’s turns you on huh? y’like hearing how much i need you ma because i do i think about you all hours of the day— fuck…think about how much i could’ve done differently,” you couldn’t reply too spent to talk but you heard every single word.

“f-fuck m’gonna cum where do you want it baby?” his thrusts began to get sloppier and he was praying you’d pick the place he wanted god he wanted nothing more than to give you another kid and watch you care for and nurse another one of his children. keyword his. “i-inside please cum inside renny,” that was all he needed to hear before he stilled his movements his warm cum shooting into your pussy. eren kissed down your spine whispering sweet nothings and praises making your heart flutter for the umpteenth time.

“i know you probably don’t wanna get back with me i’ll buy you a plan b and drop it off tomorrow when i bring emmy,” he whispered giving your shoulder one last kiss but you shook your head looking back at him over your shoulder. “if i break things off with reiner and get back with you you have to change i can’t live like that again eren. i want a husband—a family i can’t have that if everything is one sided,” eren nodded leaning down to brush his nose against yours:

“i promise i will be there i’ll never do you like that again i put that on everything i love.”

#eren <3 #my writing #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager fluff #eren jaeger fluff #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan smut #aot imagines #eren yeager #snk eren #aot smut #snk smut

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cloudteawrites · 3 years

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chapter: five ( 4.7k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The grocery store was a mess of color and light. You swore you’d never seen so much food in one place.

Back when your mom had been alive, you’d never really gone to traditional grocery stores. You’d always just visited markets where your mom knew the vendors and could talk down their prices on ugly produce and day old bread. After she’d died, you’d eaten whatever the staff in the group home had provided, then whatever you could scrounge up from convenience stores. Most of the time since you’d aged out of social services, you survived off the free rice and kimchi available in your goshiwon.

Occasionally, you’d eat at work with your free staff meal, but you tried to avoid it. You knew the sight of you wolfing down ramyeon and cold kimbap as fast as you could made Jiah worry. If she ever saw you looking too haggard, she’d try to slip some home made meals to the front desk of your goshiwon when you weren’t looking and that was as embarrassing as it was helpful.

For as long as you could remember, the question of where your next meal was coming from had hung over your head like a dark cloud. It didn’t seem like that was going to be a problem any longer.

Aisle after aisle stretched out before you, blindingly bright. It looked like an amusement park. You were finding it hard to stop staring. You reached out in a haze and picked up the juiciest apple you’d ever seen. Sure, you sold them all the time at Quickstop, but they’d always been dull and just the slightest bit bruised. This one was perfect: fire engine red and still wet from the mister. It was cold and heavy in your hands. You almost felt like crying.

“You good?” Yoongi is beside you, leaning over on the shopping cart, his chin in his hand. He looks dreadfully bored.

“Yeah,” you tell him, setting the apple gently back in its place. “Yeah; just got distracted for a second.” You give a single tug on the front of the basket to move him along, and he follows, shuffling against the bright white linoleum.

“Why aren’t you getting that?” He calls, just before you can round the corner into the dry goods aisle. You turn and look at him over your shoulder, confusion slightly furrowing your brow. “Don’t you want it?”

Your eyes flick from his face back to the glittering heap of fruit. You gnaw at your lip. “...They’re 6,000 won a kilo.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“I don’t need them,” you huff, trying to stave off the beginnings of another argument. “There’s more important things...like you three and getting you clothes and better furniture and-” Before you get the chance to finish, the gray haired man has ducked back around the corner. He returns with two three kilo bags of apples and dumps them unceremoniously into the cart.

He looks up at you, brows raised and his eyes daring you to say something. All you do is sigh. “Yoongi-”

“Jimin likes apples.” He says, before you can get a word in edgewise. “They’re for him.” You can’t argue with that. He pushes the basket forward and you two drift down the next aisle.

There’s a question resting on the tip of your tongue and as you compare brands of rice, you spit it out. “So...what do you guys eat? I read an article that said to mainly feed cat hybrids fish, but...”

“But we’re not house cats.” He finishes, flipping over a box of cereal to read the back. His nose wrinkles at something he finds and he slides it back onto the shelf. It’s cute, you think- or would be if you couldn’t see the tips of his razor sharp incisors poking out when his lip curled up. Yoongi senses your gaze and looks over at you. You look away quickly and make yourself busy reading a label. “We can eat pretty much anything you’d eat. Not too much processed shit or we’ll get sick. Whole foods are better.”

You nod, making a mental note to forego sodas and chips. “And when you’re shifted?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t really eat when we’re shifted down unless we plan on staying there for a long time.”

You choose a 10 kilo bag of rice, tug it out from the shelf with a little grunt and plop it onto the basket’s bottom shelf. That was good, you supposed. You were worried you were gonna have to watch three big cats rip into raw meat whenever it caught their fancy. “Why don’t I push the basket and you can pick out things Taehyung and Jimin would want?”

He nods and shifts to the other side of the aisle. “What’s my limit?”

You pause for a moment, then stand and fix him with a strange look. “What do you mean?” He isn’t looking at you. He’s comparing two brands of cereal, scanning the nutritional facts on the back.

“How much am I allowed to spend on food?” he questions, simply. “-and what foods are we allowed to eat?”

You balked at him. “.. .you want me to control your diet?”

“I don’t want you to, but most owners prefer a certain look.” He turns his flat, yellow-grey eyes on you. “So what is it? No carbs? no sugars? Low fat? No fat? Dairy-free-”

“Oh my God, no!” You yelp before he can list any more diets. You’d said it a little louder than you’d intended and a well-dressed mom at the other end of the aisle fixes you two with an odd look before hustling her twins into another part of the store. You wince, but continue in a quieter but no less urgent voice. “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t eat that’s…”

“It’s not unusual,” Yoongi cuts in before you can give voice to your thoughts. He sets one of the cereal boxes, decorated with bright colors and little cartoon animals, back on the shelf and tosses the other -something in a dull green and white box with a little piece of wheat on the front- into the cart. “You didn’t feed us last night.”

A pang of guilt shoots through you. You curl your fingers around the bar of the cart, stare at your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, with all the sincerity in the world. “I was tired -and I know that’s not an excuse- but I fell asleep without thinking of you guys. It won’t happen again.”

“Relax,” Yoongi drawls.”It’s not the first time we’ve gone hungry; I’m sure it won’t be the last.” He starts drifting toward the end of the aisle, but before he can go, you catch him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

There’s barely an inch of fabric between your thumb and forefinger, but the look Yoongi gives you makes it look like you’d yanked him back by the collar. He whirls on you, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into something sour. You’d overstepped by grabbing him. Still, you speak. “That was the last time. I mean it.”

The hybrid’s face shifts from irritation into something unrecognizable. He’s looking at you like there’s an equation written behind your eyes that he’s trying to work out with his own, like if he looks deep enough into them he’ll find the answers etched across your sclera. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the seconds drag on, but you don’t look away. Instead, you hold his gaze and let the moment swell under almost unbearable tension.

Yoongi gives first. He tugs his sleeve out of your grip and shuffles back out of reach. “Whatever you say,” he scoffs, stalking off into the next aisle, his ears tilted back and tail tip flicking in irritation.

You sigh. You’d done it again. The urge to catch him again wells up in you, but you tamp it down. ‘Time and space,’ you remind yourself. ‘Give him time and give him space.’ Satisfied once the distance between the two of you is enough, you go to follow after him, but hesitate as you pass the cereal he’d been looking at. You tug it off the shelf and place it in the basket underneath a few other things so it’d be hidden. You don’t know why and if he asked you about it later you were sure you’d draw a blank. If nothing else, you told yourself as you hurried to catch up with your hybrid, he’d have a choice.

The rest of the grocery trip passed in silence, just as it’d begun. Yoongi didn’t so much as look at you, but that was fine. You were focused on watching him. Anything that he gave more than a passing glance went into the basket. If the bobcat hybrid noticed your rapidly increasing haul, he didn’t say anything about it. He was silent. Even when you flinched as the cashier announced the total and you waffled between trying to walk home or calling a taxi. Even in the lobby then the elevator on the way up as Mr. Park talked both of your ears off and you had to stop him from carrying your groceries in and stocking the fridge himself, Yoongi had remained eerily quiet. It’d given you time to think.

You didn’t know much about hybrids. If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t known anything about them prior to what you’d anxiety-googled yesterday afternoon. You were so far out of your depth, it was miracle you hadn’t drowned yet. Still, you weren’t completely oblivious.

In between Yoongi’s open hostility, Jimin’s blase attitude toward his own objectification and what snippets you’d heard about Taehyung’s early life, you knew something must’ve been very, very wrong with the people who’d had them before they’d been foisted upon you. The expectation that you were supposed to treat hybrids like actual pets made you uncomfortable enough without the assumption that you’d be dressing them up like dolls and locking the snack cabinets at night.

A spike of anger shot through you. They might’ve been different than humans but they were still people. They hadn’t deserved whatever shady things their owners had done to them and you didn’t want them to come to expect them from you. You shift the grocery bags up your arm, freeing up a hand so you can punch the code into the door. There was no way around it. The four of you would need to sit down and have a good long talk.

The second you punch the code into your door it swings open. “Hey, Jim-” the greeting dies on your tongue. It’s not Jimin who meets you at the door, but Taehyung, freshly showered, the curly ends of his hair dripping water onto the white tile and the front of his sweatshirt damp. His eyes were still hidden behind his hair but you could see more of him than you’d been able to that morning when he’d shifted.

Well, not more of him. He was wearing clothes now, for one- a dark brown version of the sweat suit Yoongi and Jimin both wore. He was taller than you, which you’d known when he’d wrapped his arms around you, but looking up at him now you have to tilt your head back a bit. “Oh,” you say, a little dazed. “Wow.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “Hi.” His voice is still as deep as it was this morning. Was it always like that? He turns his attention to the hybrid behind you and his lips part in a blindingly bright boxy grin. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi hums a hello and slips past you through the door. His shoulder brushes against Taehyung’s and the younger hybrid chuffs happily a little in his throat. He leans down as the older man passes and bumps their foreheads together affectionately. Their tails twine together briefly before the gray-haired hybrid is out of reach and dropping an armful of groceries off in the kitchen.

“You shifted up,” you remark “Did something happen?” There’s a tick of concern in his voice. You step to the side of the doorway so the pair can talk without you in the middle.

Taehyung shakes his head, water droplets scattering. His hyung let out a hiss that erred just on the wrong side of animalistic as some of them hit him. You freeze, but the tiger hybrid just laughs. “No, Jimin and I were just-” His smile falters. You can’t see his eyes but his ears have twitched downward and his tail is suddenly stiff, only the tip ticking back and forth. The hybrid lowers his head, and you finally catch sight of eyes, gleaming amber and full of fear. Behind him, you see Yoongi catch a whiff of his junior’s souring scent and his head whips toward the pair of you, ears straight up and his whole body on high alert.

Worry draws your brows together. “Taehyung?” you call softly. You reach out with your free hand to touch his shoulder, then think better of it. Your fingers hover uselessly and inch away from him. In this moment, that distance feels a mile wide. The line of his shoulders is rigid and he’s withdrawn into himself. “Taehyung, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We went out.” He blurts, snapping his head up to look in your eyes. His own are wide and earnest. “You left your backpack open and I saw the list you made with all the phone numbers and passwords and the door code was on there and I really wanted to go to the park. Jimin told me to wait but I made him come with me; we were only gone for fifteen minutes, I swear. We didn’t even make it; the same police officer from earlier was still on the street.”

“Taehyung-”

“Please-” he cuts you off before you can even get a word in edgewise. “Please, just punish me; Jimin didn’t do anything. The whole time he was trying to make me go back. He only went with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. You do touch him, then. Your fingertips barely graze the material of his sweatshirt, but he flinches and you pull away. Your hand drops to your side, limp. “Can you and Jimin meet me in the living room?” You ask him, careful to keep your tone light and non-threatening as possible. “We need to talk.” His ears droop, but he nods and shuffles off to do as you ask. You trail behind him into the penthouse, making sure to give him enough space. The last thing you wanted to do right now was crowd him.

You drop the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and look up to find Yoongi squinting at you. He’s coiled up like a spring, ready to bolt at any moment. You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it comes out watery and wan. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’re just gonna talk.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you.

Still, he follows you into the living room, takes a seat on the couch while you settle cross-legged on the ottoman across from him. A few seconds later, Jimin and Taehyung slink down the stairs. The tiger hybrid is clinging to his hyung who, for once, isn't smiling. Jimin’s face is settled into a cool mask of neutrality. You almost don’t recognize him.

They sink into the couch on either side of Yoongi, their backs stiff and eyes on anything other than you. For a moment, the four of you sit there in uncomfortable silence. You speak first.

“Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi-”

“Y/N,” Jimin cuts in, “Whatever Taehyung told you-”

“-I’m sorry.” You finish. That seems to surprise them. You interlock your fingers on your lap and look at each one of them individually. “I’m sorry that I didn’t check to see if there was food in the house last night. I’m sorry that I didn’t make sure you had the things you needed to feel comfortable here. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t allowed to leave.”

Taehyung swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’s got a death grip on Yoongi’s arm with one hand and the other fisted in the fabric of his sweatpants. “You...You’re not mad?” The tremor in his voice makes your heart ache.

“No,” you tell him with all the sincerity in the world. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sad that you were ever around someone who made you feel like you needed to apologize for wanting to see the sun and I’m angry that they made you think that was something to be punished for.” It was true. Beneath your sadness, beneath your shock at his expectation of punishment, anger was twisting in your gut. What type of person would reduce another to fear and trembling for the sake of leaving the house? “I’m not going to...to punish you, I need you to know that.” You tell him, before looking at Jimin and Yoongi. “Any of you. Ever. I’m never gonna hurt you.”

Taehyung’s jaw is clenched like he’s trying not to cry. All the wind has gone out of Jimin like a deflated sail and the leopard hybrid just looks exhausted. Yoongi’s rubbing soothing circles in both of their backs. You can’t tell from his face, but by the way his ears have relaxed, you think he was worried about your reaction, too.

You let out a little exhale and slouch. “Whatever happened to you with your previous...the people you lived with before? It wasn’t okay.” You’re as firm with it as you can be while still keeping your tone gentle. “They were supposed to take care of you and love you and help you grow, but if they starved you, if they made you feel this bad, if they treated you like property, then fuck them. I don’t want to be anything like them.” You admit. “I don’t want to be your owner and I don’t want you to be my pets.”

“What do you want us to be to you then?” Yoongi rasps. Despite the question, there’s no challenge in his voice. He’s genuinely asking.

One corner of your mouth quirks up and you give him a small shrug. “Friends, maybe? Eventually, if we can. For now let’s try…” you search for the word you want. “Roommates?” You supply. “We live together, but you guys don’t need to feel like you owe me anything. I’ll get you phones tomorrow, if you want, and copies of the credit card. We can get you clothes and furniture too. And if there’s anything you want to do or want to see, go see it. The door code is 0613.”

The tension that’d run between the three hybrids like a livewire is gone. Now they’re...if not relaxed, then at least relieved. There’s nothing else to be said. You stand and move to hurry into the kitchen so the trio of hybrids can have their space. The last thing you wanted to do after having a talk about their freedoms was crowd them. Before you can take three steps there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. It's Taehyung's.

The tiger hybrid is looking up at you, his eyes beseeching and a nervous tremble in his bottom lip. “Don’t go,” he croaks, sounding like he’s still unsure just how to use his voice. He tugs once on your coat sleeve. “Please.”

Your eyes flick from him to his hyungs. Jimin’s looking at you with apprehension, perched on the edge of the couch like he’s a split second away from helping the tiger hybrid drag you down- but Yoongi’s face is turned away from you. As usual, you can’t tell what he’s feeling. “I’m just going to the kitchen,” you assure him. “I’ve gotta put the food away-” Your brain short circuits as the tiger hybrid flips your hand over and presses his face to your palm. His eyelashes brush against your lifeline; his lips trace the veins in your wrist.

You’d never say it outloud, but it was hard to deny you were touch starved. You could count on one hand the amount of times someone had touched you gently since your mother died. You didn’t show yourself kindness most days and you’d come not to expect it from others. The world was cold and cruel, and you were far too old to be seeking solace from strangers. You’d thought you were above it, but the feeling of Taehyung nipping at your radial artery is almost enough to make you go to pieces. “Just a little bit,” he huffs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“...The groceries will get warm,” you argue, finally managing to make your mouth move. “Do you wanna eat hot kimchi?”

“I’ll put them away.” Yoongi is up and vaulting over the couch before you can get a word in edgewise. With him gone the last of your excuses goes up in smoke. Taehyung smiles against your skin and you let yourself be pulled down.

No sooner have your legs touched the cushion, then Taehyung is snuggled up against your side, his arms wrapped loosely around your middle and the cool tip of his nose pressed into your neck. “Tell me again,” he murmurs softly. “Can you tell me again that you’re not mad?” He wanted reassurance. The least you could do was give it to him.

You slip a hand into his hair, scratch gently at the base of his ears. He chuffs happily, the sound vibrating in his chest as he presses closer to you. “I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble, buddy.” You tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A warm presence on your left tells you Jimin’s settled in beside you. Sure enough, a second later a golden tail is tracing the edge of your calf. “Don’t leave me out,” he purrs, settling his chin on your shoulder.

You slide a hand into his hair too, letting the locks slip through your fingers as you pet him. “Never.”

The three of you stay like that for what feels like an hour. Even when their hyung finishes putting the groceries away and returns to sit with them -albeit at the far end of the sectional- they don’t seem like they’re in a hurry to disentangle themselves from you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. The weight of two grown men against your shoulders was heavy, but not uncomfortable and they were warm and the steady hum of Jimin purring is almost enough to lull you to sleep. You cut a movie on and order samgyeopsal. You think they’re gonna kill the delivery man for making you get up, and they stay glued to your back even as you pay. It’s not until the first movie goes off and Taehyung and Jimin are playfully bickering over what to watch next that you’re able to slip away to the bathroom.

You shuffle quickly down the wide hallway, trying to remember which door the closest bathroom lay behind. You careen around a corner and run smack into someone. They let out a huff and you stumble back a few steps, an apology on your lips. You look up and find Yokngi there. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach. Between Jimin purring in your ear and Taehyung rubbing his cheek against your hand every ten seconds, you hadn’t even noticed he was gone. “Sorry,” you mumble.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “For what?”

You’re not even sure you know.

He stares at you and you stare back, frozen. Finally, the bobcat hybrid sighs and gestures at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles.

You approach hesitantly, not trusting him to not suddenly snap at you. “Why?” You ask, apprehensive. Should you have not let Taehyung and Jimin scent you? He’d been around the entire time and hadn’t said anything, so you’d thought it was fine. Maybe you’d made a mistake. You gnaw at your bottom lip and creep slowly closer to the hybrid before you. Another miscalculation, another mess-up, another mile tacked on to that incalculable distance between you and Yoongi. Should you apologize again? Would taking a shower help wash their scents away?

Before you can volunteer to do any of that, Yoongi reaches forward, hooks one finger through your belt loop and drags you toward him. You feel a yelp crawling up your throat, but it’s stopped dead in its tracks by the feeling of Yoongi cradling your jaw and his lips pressed against the column of your throat. His spine is tense and his tail is ticking in the way it does when he’s irritated. “...What are you-?”

“They’ve both scented you.” He murmurs. “If I don’t, they’ll think I’m rejecting you. My job as their hyung is to put them at ease. If I can’t do that, I’m useless.” Despite his closeness, despite the way his fingers were slipping into the hair at the base of your skull, despite the little nips he’d started giving you, you could practically feel his reluctance.

You exhale and push against his shoulders. “Yoongi…” He doesn’t budge. “Hey-”

“There’s no good reason for me to not just mark you and get it over with.” There was that word again. You’d forgotten about it in the whirlwind that followed, but Jimin had joked about marking you earlier, hadn’t he? And Yoongi’d gotten upset with him. From what you were gathering, it was a lot more serious than scenting.

“I don’t want you to.” That gets his attention. The hybrid pulls away and fixes you with an odd look, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about? Owners always want us to mark them.” You feel that same twinge of anger again. The articles had said scenting was a sign of trust and security. It was used to mark family members. Had the people they’d been with before forced their way into their family without the hybrids consent? Without Yoongi’s? No wonder he’d been touchy about his juniors scenting you right away.

“Well, I don’t.” You give him a gentle nudge and put a few inches between the two of you. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with or not ready for.” You offer him a smile you hope comes across as reassuring. “You not wanting to is a good enough reason for me. Besides,” you say, turning to head back to the living room, the original reason for your trip forgotten. “I’ve never been marked before, so it’s not like i’m missing out on anything.”

At that, something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes that you have no name for. It passes as soon as it’d come. “Come back when you’re ready!” You call over your shoulder, retreating back down the corridor before he can say something one way or another.

When you settle back on to the couch two minutes later, There’s a movie queued up and ready to be played. It’s an action movie, one you haven’t seen before. “Yoongi’ll be back in a second,” you tell the boys. “Let’s wait for him.”

Taehyung hums his ascent, leaning in to settle back in the crook of your neck- but something stops him. He hovers near your neck, takes a few short inhales and tosses a look at Jimin behind your back. You frown. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung responds a bit too quickly, lacing your fingers together to distract you as Jimin gives the other side of your neck the same treatment. The leopard hybrid purrs, seemingly happy at what he’s found. His ears swivel up and a second later, Yoongi slinks back into the living room.

“Hyung…” Jimin starts, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Play the movie.” His hyung orders. He does, but there’s still a little smirk on his lips.

The screen darkens and the opening credits roll as Taehyung and Jimin settle back against your side, careful to avoid your neck. Yoongi drops onto the couch, this time only a foot away from the three of you. You allow yourself a little spark of relief. The distance was starting to close.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Note

Heard you were looking for prompts :) 1 of 2 - From favorite tropes: Blind date set up by mutual friends! And maybe combined with "I'm speechless you're so beautiful" from the fluff & kisses (and other stuff) prompts. Go wild with it!

This will go to AO3 soon, but it was a lot of fun to write and a nice distraction from any hypothetical realities the TMA fandom may be experiencing.

Double-Blind: 5K

Martin smelled like espresso. He wrinkled his nose and dusted his hands on his apron uselessly, as if doing so would rid himself of the months of coffee, cinnamon, and hazelnut baked into his skin. It wasn’t all that bad, he supposed, except what was the point in using cologne if it was going to be immediately overpowered?

The bell above the door jingled and Martin jumped, pulled from his thoughts on cologne and what he would like to smell like, given the opportunity. Sandalwood, maybe? Tobacco and vanilla? The musky-sweet smells are nice, they have a nice mix of feminine and masculine to them, almost—

“Ahem.” An exaggerated clearing of the throat, once again whisking him from his distractions. Martin locked eyes on the woman across the counter from him, grinning mischievously. “Welcome back to Earth, Martin.”

“Oh! Oh. It’s just you. Hi, Georgie.” Georgie Barker, a regular customer, moderately well-known podcast host, and most importantly, one of Martin’s favorite people to see at the tiny coffee shop he spent more time in than his own flat.

“Just me? Excuse me.” Georgie pouted and crossed her arms, coily hair bouncing around her face as she shook her head. “I’ll have you know you should be grateful to see me this fine afternoon, Martin Koffee Blackwood!”

Martin grinned and dropped the act. “I always am, Georgie. But I told you, there’s not a—”

“Like I said, you should be happy to see me.” Georgie barreled on. “I have good news.” She cocked her head and pondered the chalk-covered board behind the counter. “Two chai lattes, please. And make one of them extra spicy?”

Martin rang up the order and passed two cups down to Rosie, all the while checking the door surreptitiously, ensuring a little chat wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Okay? Spill.”

Georgie’s phone was in her hand, and she waved it at Martin like it contained the secrets of the universe. “D’you remember my roommate, Melanie?”

Martin nodded, pursing his lips. “Vaguely. I thought you guys were dating.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

Georgie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Not the point. Anyways, she has a friend of a friend-“ Georgie frowned for a moment, “…of a friend who is looking to get back into dating. Mel says he’s short and nerdy and prickly until you get to know him. Apparently a real pain to work with according to the friend.” Georgie smirked and pulled a sticky note from her back pocket. “Thought maybe you’d want his number.”

Martin grimaced at the blue piece of paper as she smoothed it to the counter with a firm motion. “Wow, George. Really selling it.” It was his fault; they had bonded over being queer back in July when Martin had worn his gay and trans pride buttons and Georgie was proudly sporting her own pansexual patch firmly affixed to her laptop case. One lunch break discussing quirky exes later, their friendship had been sealed. Mentioning offhandedly that he was on dating apps and hating every minute of it seemed to have rooted itself in Georgie’s mind and had grown like weeds until she had taken it upon herself to become his personal wing woman.

“Do you even know his name?” Martin asked, regarding the string of numbers on the piece of paper in front of him.

Georgie blushed, shrugging apologetically. “Friend of a friend of a friend. Sorry mate. Melanie said he likes cats, documentaries, and-” she made air quotes with her fingers, “-being uptight.”

“Wow.” Martin chuckled in disbelief. “Really selling it here.”

Rosie sidled by Martin and set down Georgie’s lattes, who shrugged and picked them up after dropping a few coins in the tip jar. “You have his number. Just think about it, Blackwood. Melanie’s friend doesn’t spread the word about someone unless they’re something special.” She blew a kiss (clumsily, considering the cups requiring the attention of each of her hands) and made her way to the door.

“I just want you to be happy!” She called out as the January winds pulled her out the door and into the grey afternoon.

Martin chewed on his lip as he considered. January was always a tough month for him, and he had been feeling a little lonely recently. He really didn’t see anyone besides his coworkers, customers, and his mother. As much as he enjoyed his job, he wouldn’t call anyone there a romantic interest. He folded the sticky note and stuck it in his pocket as his next customer approached the counter. He did like cats, after all. Maybe that would be a good starting conversation.

Jonathan Sims groaned and shifted the stack of books in his hand as he inspected the knee-high table that was buried amongst the fiction books. He hated working the children’s section of the library. Although no food or drink was allowed, there always seemed to be crumbs everywhere. He was starting to wonder if children just manifested them. He made a mental note to come back with disinfectant wipes after putting the stack of child-suitable biographies away and turned, nearly walking straight into the chest of one Timothy Stoker.

“A-ah!” Jon jumped instinctively backward, clutching the books closer to his chest in an attempt to keep from dropping them. “Tim! Good lord, there’s really no need to be sneaking up on me like that.”

Tim grinned wryly and shrugged, taking half of the books from Jon’s arms. “Sorry boss, thought you heard me.” He gestured for Jon to lead the way through the half-sized bookshelves; an unnecessary act seeing as Tim worked the children’s library much more frequently than Jon did.

“I’m not your-” Jon sighed, deciding this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on today. He made his way through the shelves, sliding books into their correct placements with practiced hands. “Do you need something?”

“Actually,” Tim checked a Dewey code and slid a book into a shelf a few rows down. “I don’t. But you do.”

Jon stared blankly, uncomprehending. Tim chuckled and gestured with a cock of his head towards the research section. “Melanie said she has a friend who has a friend she wants to set up on a date. And while normally, I’d jump at the chance-” he waved his left hand, the silver ring inset with tiny diamonds flashing in the fluorescents, “I’ve been wifed up and I don’t think my dear Sash would appreciate my going on a blind date with a stranger.”

Jon frowned, setting his stack of books down and eyeing Tim. “What, so I have to?”

Tim shook his head, a patient smile on his face. “No, no one is forcing you. I just think—well. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you’ve been a little…testy, recently.” The look on Tim’s face dared Jon to contradict. “Melanie says he’s apparently a really good guy, very kind and sweet and patient. I think his name is Melvin? I kinda tuned out after she wrote down the number she got from her friend.”

Jon scoffed, pushing his glasses up his face as if that would help him comprehend the absolute ridiculousness of what Tim was saying. “Y-You want me to go on a date with this guy, Melvin? Because I’ve been…grumpy? That doesn’t seem very kind to this mysterious date.”

Tim pursed his lips. “I just think you could benefit from seeing someone who doesn’t work here. I mean, we love you Jon, but god, you need to get a social life. I’m practically begging you.” Tim’s purse elongated into a pout, eyes going big and starry. Jon inwardly groaned. Tim was his oldest friend here at the library and he really never learned how to resist that face. Maybe he should ask Sasha.

“One date,” Jon promised. “I’ll do one date. And then you never set me up again.”

Tim grabbed the rest of the books Jon had set down and added them to his stack before whisking himself away down the aisles. “If we’re lucky, I’ll never have to!” He called down the aisles, grinning madly. Jon sighed and grabbed a small pink sticky note that had been stuck to the countertop, running his eyes over the numbers before slipping it into his pocket. He’ll call later.

Martin stared resolutely at the numbers on the blue sticky note, running his thumb over the curled edge of the paper, slightly stained from some sort of milk during the shift. Even his apron pockets weren’t foolproof. The underground was busy and he was jammed between an older woman who smelled weirdly like salmon and a man who seemed utterly too well-dressed to be on the tube. Elbows crammed into his side to keep from nudging anyone, he pulled out his phone and stared at the messaging app for what felt like several minutes. He typed the numbers into the message bar and watched his cursor blip in the body of the message.

Hey whats up?

No, that would be so weird.

Hiya, this is martin!

Georgie never said the man’s name, would this mysterious date know his?

Hey I think the alphabet is missing I and U together.

Gross. Just gross. Martin grimaced inwardly and chewed on his lip, thinking carefully before typing.

Hi! My name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, I get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

As he finished typing, he heard the familiar robotic voice of the tube announcing his stop. Quickly, Martin shoved the phone in his pocket and carefully forced his way through the crowd and onto the platform, mind cast to what he had accessible for dinner.

----

It took Jon a few days, until Saturday, to remember to call the phone number they had been given. They could text, they supposed, but they always appreciated hearing someone’s intonation a little better. Especially a stranger, ugh, they shuddered at the idea of not being able to decipher the tone of this Melvin. It was half-past 11 when they decided to call, hoping this would be late enough in the morning to not wake him up.

The phone rang momentarily before a surprisingly feminine voice answered the phone. “Hello. This is Rosie. You’ve reached Swirl Café and Bakery.”

Well shit. This was not what Jon expected. They stumbled over their rehearsed speech, trying to scramble words together in a way that made sense. “Uh-sorry, I must have the wrong number. I-I was trying to speak to Melvin?”

“Mmm, sorry. No Melvin works here. We have a Martin, but he’s off the clock. Would you like to speak to our manager?” Rosie’s voice was clipped and courteous, but Jon could hear the bustle of voices in the background. It must be their weekend rush.

“Ah-uh, no, no thank you.” Jon shook their head into the phone, before remembering that did not translate aurally. “It’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

“Sorry, mate. Thanks for calling!” The dial tone droned on for a moment before Jon hung up, sighing and pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes. That was a waste. Melanie must have been playing them; Jon knew they generally didn’t get along, but they didn’t realize she would stoop so low. Honestly, shame on themself for getting excited about a date.

Later that evening, Jon was cooking and listening to music through the speaker that balanced precariously on a shelf next to their stove. The music was low, with a variety of orchestral instruments and sultry, smooth voices. Jon’s eyes were half closed as they stirred the curry in the pan in front of them, letting the music and heat of the kitchen entangle them in a sleepy feeling relaxing their whole body. As the cello in the song dipped low and resonant, Jon stood still, letting the music sweep them away—

They jumped as the ringer alerted them through the speaker that they had received a text, glaringly electronic compared to the rich notes of cello and viola that had been so rudely interrupted. Sleepy feeling gone as adrenaline washed through their body, Jon sighed and retrieved their phone, checking for the message.

An unknown number flicked across the screen:

Hi! my name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, i get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

i meant to send this a few days ago but I never hit send. sorry ab that! rosie said someone called the café asking ab me and i assumed that was you bc i wasnt expecting anyone else and no one involved in the blind date thing ever asked for my mobile number.

if it wasn’t you, oops! either way it reminded me that i had never texted you. :)

Jon squinted at the screen as they read the messages a few times over. That was…a lot of words. So his name was Martin. It was certainly nicer than Melvin. Jon agonized over their words as they typed out a response.

Hello Martin. That was me who called the café…I hope it didn’t cause problems for you. Blind dates aren’t usually my thing, but my coworkers think I need to get out more. I’d be happy to meet you for dinner or coffee. Even if we don’t get along, we can say we’ve done it.

Unless, of course, you’re rather sick of coffee. I prefer tea anyways.

…not “done it” done it. Just. Had the blind date.

Jon winced at their follow up texts. God, that was embarrassing. Martin probably didn’t even take it that way until they bothered to clarify. They shook their head, warding away the growing anxiety in their chest and tucked their phone in their pocket as they turned their attention back to the simmering curry. Jon had embarrassed themselves enough for one night.

----

Martin chuckled at the texts that came through; one slow and the two follow-ups rapid. He could feel the awkwardness through the messages, desperately trying to give a good impression. He chuckled to himself as he set down his dinner plate.

dinner sounds perfect. but same about the tea! and about the coworkers tbh, my friends think im making friends with the espresso machine. which, i am, but only bc its good company haha.

btw i never got your name?

Martin’s phone was silent the rest of the night, as he plodded his way through a mediocre dinner and shower before settling into his armchair, desperate to work on his poetry. Words came slowly to him recently, thoughts about the world and darkness and the intersection of fall and winter. He really should up and move to somewhere warmer, he thought to himself, before laughing the notion away aloud. Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the poetry prompts book he had found at the charity shop. “Use noncolor words to describe a color.” Great. Martin settled back and tried to focus, but kept finding himself checking his phone impulsively, the foamed latte art he’d photographed, one of a cat he was particularly proud of, stared back at him judgmentally.

As he drew his evening to a close, Martin almost missed the buzz of his phone, now plugged in by his bed, as he brushed his teeth.

Congrats on the espresso machine. And my name is Jon. Anywhere you want to go for dinner?

________________________________________________________________

Jon hesitated, thumb hovering over the icon that would open a video chat with Tim. He didn’t want to come off nervous, but… he was.

Texting had been going well. Martin was good at keeping the conversation going and genuinely seemed to enjoy the long texts Jon had sent regarding his irritations with the research he was conducting as a part of his master’s in literature, asking him questions about details Jon had added for context. Martin was easy to talk to, too, he always seemed to have an opinion on subjects but always ones Jon was happy to hear, even if he was objectively wrong about spiders and oolong tea. Martin had sent an awkward text, letting Jon know he was trans and that if that was a dealbreaker he should tell him now, one Jon had blushed over and responded that he was nonbinary himself, and that it certainly wasn’t. The “okay fantastic! :))) remind me of your pronouns? he/him for me.” that followed it up had made Jon’s heart sing.

They had agreed to meet at an Italian place, equidistant between their flats and not too fancy. Martin had commented about getting ice cream after, but Jon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, since it had also been a jab about Jon’s preference for rum raisin. Thus, he was staring at his wardrobe, paralyzed with indecision. Tim had offered to help, which Jon had initially rejected since he’s “not a child Tim, I’ve dated before. And I know how to dress myself.” But lord if he wasn’t wishing for someone to lay out his clothes and tell him to behave. He grimaced and jabbed the video chat button, bracing for the onslaught of teasing to come.

----

Martin adjusted his collar for what must have been the twelfth time, sucking on his lip as he waited at the reserved table. He hadn’t been there long, no more than five minutes, but his anxiety had been building up all day and a part of him was absolutely certain Jon wasn’t going to come. Neither of them knew what the other looked like; what if Jon saw him and had dipped out immediately? He was wearing mint green, as he had promised, so Jon would recognize him, and brought a bouquet of daisies, mostly because it felt weird not to bring anything, but he didn’t want to be too romantic. Not roses or anything. Besides, Jon said he liked daisies, said they reminded him of an old friend. Martin hoped it wasn’t too weird. He brushed his auburn curls out of the way of his eyes, part of him regretting not having gotten a haircut first, but he tucked those thoughts aside as he surveyed the restaurant from his vantage point.

He blinked in confusion as he watched long curls make their way towards him. Dark black hair, streaked with white, half bunned up in the back and rest left to hang loose, skimming purple-covered elbows. Martin wasn’t sure if they were wearing flowy grey pants or a skirt, but either way, the faint black pattern to them was stunning and Martin couldn’t help but watch the swoosh of the hemlines. As the person got closer, Martin realized they were tiny, stylized eyes.

“Ah-you’re Martin, right?” It took Martin a second to realize this absolutely beautiful person was talking to him.

“hmm—Oh! Yes! You must be Jon.” Martin stood, unsure whether he should shake Jon’s hand or hug him or? But Jon solved the problem himself by sitting, and so Martin did as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, that is,” he added, grinning shyly. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Jon blushed. “Ah, thank you. Y-You too. O-or handsome, whichever you prefer.” He sipped his water and fidgeted with his hands, eyes flicking around the room nervously before coming around to rest on Martin.

Martin shrugged. “A compliment is a compliment, they all work. Speaking of—what pronouns are you feeling today? I remember you saying it varies.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to pitch a fit either way, but ‘he’ is just fine.” It was nice to be asked. The library respected his pronouns, of course, but something about Martin going out of his way to make sure he was on the same page was… It made Jon’s heart thud deep in his chest.

They made small talk about the travel, the weather, Italian food preferences until the waiter came and relieved the tension. Martin felt his shoulders relax after they both ordered; it felt more real somehow.

“So,” Martin asked, sipping his water demurely, a smile tinged on his lips. “Melvin, huh?”

Jon choked on air for a moment. His mouth gaped open and shut again and Martin couldn’t help the grin overtook him. Jon’s embarrassment was sweet; his cheeks flushed and he bowed his head slightly. It was a lovely look on him. “For the record, that’s what I was told by my coworker, Tim.” Jon made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Melvin or something.’ Who was I to question your name?”

“Right, and I’m glad you respect names ‘n’ all. But Melvin?” Martin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not the decimal system guy.”

“Nn-mmm,” Jon shook his head, nose wrinkled in a way Martin found particularly cute. “That’s Melville. Melville Dewey.” Jon emphasized, back straightening. “Distinctly different. I’m a librarian, actually.”

“Oh!” Martin blinked. “That makes sense. You work with Melanie, then, I assume?”

Jon grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

“She’s not that bad!” Martin insisted. “I’ve met her once or twice and she’s been very polite.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “For someone who’s getting a degree in parapsychology, she seems very judgmental.”

“Oh? And what are you studying again?”

“English Lit-hey!”

Martin grinned behind his glass of water. “Just saying, I haven’t met an English Lit student who wasn’t obscenely pretentious.”

Jon faltered for a second and slumped his shoulders in defeat, though his voice still seemed to carry humor, albeit dry. “Unfortunately, I am no exception.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Dinner arrived smoothly, shrimp scampi for Jon and eggplant parmesan for Martin. They ate slowly, chatting more about Jon’s graduate degree, Martin’s affinity for fiction and poetry, and their shared interest in tea.

“So, are you vegetarian?” Jon gestured to the eggplant on Martin’s plate. Martin wobbled his head slightly, not quite a negatory shake of the head.

“It’s complicated. My mother has—had—a sensitive stomach so we didn’t eat meat growing up. I think that turned me off the taste. And there’s something about the texture,” he shuddered. “Weirds me out.”

Jon’s eyes were sharp, boring holes into Martin’s in a way he should have found alarming, but instead found soothing. “Mine, too.” His tone—softer, almost reverent, clued Martin in: he wasn’t talking about being vegetarian.

Martin nodded, and gently placed a hand on Jon’s, the one that hovered near his drinking glass. “I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment, Jon’s hand was small and warm under his, and Martin could feel a thin silver bracelet clinging to his wrist. Martin was amazed by how perfectly his fingers rested over Jon’s, how nice it must feel to hold hands with him on a walk or side by side against the world. Jon cleared his throat suddenly and reached for his glass, gulping down water while staring steadfastly at his plate.

Martin felt his own blush rise through his cheeks and pushed a stray noodle around his plate. “So, here’s a question,” he began, eager to clear the tension. “You said earlier your friend Tim gave you the number to Swirl, right? I don’t know a Tim. So how did he know me?”

Jon frowned, cocking his head. “Technically, I got the number from Tim but that was via Melanie. She said her roommate was friends with…well, friends with you.”

“Mmhmm, that makes sense. I know Georgie from the coffee shop.” He was about to continue when he saw absolutely paralyzed look on Jon’s face. “You…you alright?”

Jon was stock still, pausing the forkful of shrimp that was en route to his mouth. “Sorry, Melanie’s roommate is Georgie?”

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah, Georgie Barker, that podcaster. She gets her an extra-spicy chai latte from Swirl most days and that’s about the most I know of the relationship. Why, you know her?”

Jon put the fork down, shrimp forgotten, and sighed, running his thumbs along the bridge of his nose, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses up to his eyebrows. “Y-yes, she’s kind of…my ex.”

It was Martin’s turn to freeze. “Sorry?”

“Mmm, yeah, we decided we were better as friends. It was back in Oxford. But I don’t exactly see her often much anymore.” Jon winced at his own words, as if he knew how bad they sounded.

Martin sat back in disbelief, chuckling to himself. “Y’know, she said you were a ‘friend of a friend of a friend.’ D’you think she even knew it was you?”

Jon cocked his head in thought. “I guess not. I mean, I think the whole library staff has been gunning for me to relieve some tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been looking for a blind date for me for months now.”

Martin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, no matter. It was lucky for me.” Lucky again, was Martin, when he was rewarded with Jon’s warm blush.

----

The bill had been a painful affair, with both Jon and Martin vying for the privilege of paying. Martin struck a deal: he’d pay for the dinner, and Jon would pay for ice cream. Jon knew the differences would widely outweigh when it came to cost but he relented, and the self-satisfied smirk that blossomed over Jon’s face was payment enough.

Martin pointed out the ice cream parlor was a few blocks away and, though it was January, they decided to walk. The fresh snow on the ground glinted against the orange street lamps, and Jon laughed under his breath at the way Martin took great care to step on any unusually large clumps of snow, like he had a personal vendetta. When Jon’s chuckle had made it past the scarf he had wound round his neck and mouth, Martin had glanced over, embarrassed.

“I like the sound of it,” he mumbled, suddenly very meek for a man his stature. It was, regretfully, endearing. Martin was tall, but he was big too, and it was obvious underneath the layer of soft cashmere and chub, there was rigid muscle, and beneath that still, a gentle heart. Jon was struck by him, in more ways he had prepared himself for, and it felt second nature to slide his gloved hand into Martin’s and give it a solid squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Do you think it’s too cold to get ice cream?” Jon asked, watching a cloud of breath float by his lips.

Martin shrugged. “Technically? Yes. But who’s going to tell on us?” Jon swung their entwined hands a little. “Unless…you don’t want to?” Martin added, eyes locking on Jon’s before his head followed.

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to. I believe we have a debt to settle and I have a personal score involving rum raisin.” Martin beamed, clearly pleased, and Jon was certain the snow around him melted right off with the warmth of his smile. Jon leant into Martin’s side a little, and they continued in silence until they reached the ice cream parlor, the entrance to which glowed with pink and white LEDs.

Jon smugly ordered a scoop of rum raisin and was delighted to find Martin “didn’t hate it,” though he insisted his mint chip was better. That was genuinely the best Jon could hope for; not even Georgie in all her unusual tastes enjoyed his rum raisin sensibility. “My grandmother loved it when I was a kid,” he explained between bites, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. “It was the only flavor she kept around the house.”

“Not even vanilla?” Martin gasped in mock disbelief. “Any sensible person would say you’ve been tricked into enjoying it.” Jon chuckled and elbowed Martin mildly.

Jon found himself lingering over the bowl, realizing that the end of their dessert meant an end to the date. Martin seemed to be acting similarly, putting his spoon down between bites and taking more and more thoughtful swallows between their bouts of conversation.

“You-you took the tube here, right?” Jon asked, setting his finally-empty bowl off to the side. At Martin’s confirmation, Jon clenched his fist below the table. “Do you want to walk to the station together?”

Martin’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. “I had meant to ask, actually! I wanted to make sure you got there safe.” Jon winced at the blush that overtook his cheeks, though it was easy to blame it on the chill of the ice cream and the frigid night.

The walk to the tube was longer and the pair, heavily sated by pasta and dairy, were quiet, making soft comments about the snow or the odd remaining Christmas decorations, hands clasped tightly and shoulders pressing into the other. The fluorescents of the underground shone brightly, normally a beacon calling travelers home in the night, but to Jon it felt like a dreadful curse. He truly hadn’t expected to enjoy his evening with Martin so much, but they had just clicked. It felt like a shame to let it go.

Swiping their cards, Jon and Martin passed through their respective turnstiles and stood at the bisecting tunnels through which the various lines waited to take them home. They faced each other in silence, hands still interlocked, unsure of how to begin.

“If you’d like to,” Jon murmured, eyes shifting focus to Martin’s curls, plastered to his forehead from the snow; his collar, peeking through his coat; the way the shell of his ear seemed to have a nick missing (was it from a childhood accident? Just the way it was grown?). “I’d like to go out again.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand, and Jon’s eyes flitted back to Martin’s own; they were grey-blue and reminded Jon of his childhood sea. “Mmhmm, yeah.” Martin rolled his eyes at his own words and tried again. “Yes, Jon, I’d love that.” Martin moved to hug Jon, a gesture Jon eagerly accepted, relishing the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Martin’s chin resting on the crown of his head. As they pulled away, Martin’s eyes flitted across Jon’s face and the hand around his back moved, cautiously, to rest on the side of Jon’s neck.

“I…I don’t want to presume,” Martin said quietly, and Jon was distinctly aware of how empty, how big, the station was. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Jon blinked rapidly, nodding wordlessly, before clearing his throat. “Ah, um, yes. Please.”

Martin’s smile was soft as he pressed his lips to the apex of Jon’s cheekbone, almost into his hairline. Jon was sure the blush that rose across his face this time certainly couldn’t be explained away by the snow, but he honestly wasn’t really sure he cared.

#tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #georgie barker #rosie zampano #tma rosie #tim stoker #meet cute #blind date au #this is my love letter to TMA #prompt answer #fanfic prompt

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themilky-way · 3 years

Text

when morning comes

gif credit: a7estrellas

pairing: din djarin/the mandalorian x reader

summary: din wakes up to you making breakfast, and the both of you share a moment

warnings: heat, stoves, a brief mention of burns, like one bad language word and the ending insinuates a smooch with this mf lmao

author’s note: pancakes don’t exist in this universe but they do now, you’re welcome lol

-----------

din’s morning had begun like it usually did. he’d woken up to a soft patch of light entering through his window, a small square of glass that wasn’t of much use. the sun was warmer than he’d ever felt it and for once in his life, he wanted to feel more of it.

his armor awaited him on a stool adjacent to his bed that wasn’t really a bed, just a lumpy, rigid mattress that barely accommodated his posture. he sat up and dangled his feet for a while to regain his composure, since one of his many traits was being overly dizzy when he didn’t need to be. for example, he’d be in the middle of a quarrel when vertigo would strike him as fast as he could blink and without warning. he told himself that if he got it over with first thing in the morning, it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the future. so far it wasn’t working.

slowly but surely, the mandalorian got dressed; pieces of his bare skin began to disappear like it meant nothing. cold metal replaced his natural warmth with ease. if he didn’t stop mid-plate to sit down again, it’d only take him a few minutes to complete his day-to-day look. today he’d done exactly that; his helmet and boots the only accessories yet to be placed on his form. when he did so, he pondered for a while about scattered topics and couldn’t quite settle on one. morning thinking had become a ritual of some sort, allowing the earnest man to diminish his ego.

din almost missed the odd scent that flew by his nose. it was unlike anything he knew of: sweet and succulent with maker knows what other things. he was sure that whatever it was, it included a variety of spices. cinnamon and nutmeg mingled in the air of his dorm and played around him like children in a field of flowers. he was determined to keep the aroma inside for as long as possible, so he stood up to close the latch of his window. his helmet slipped over his head in an instant, eagerly almost, as if the faster he finished his routine, the sooner he could taste whatever it was he smelled.

as he exited the cot, din’s steps were cautiously light against the metal of his ship. one of the last things he wanted to do was alarm the head chef into creating a spill or fire. the kitchen was compact and in a corner that needed to be rigorously searched for to find it. it wasn’t far, only a few feet away from where he had initially started his walk but his boots were heavy and unnecessarily noisy unless he was careful.

he came to a halt at the entrance, a shoulder coming to rest against the doorframe. his arms were now crossed, not in a displeased way but more of surprise. the concoction of flavors were more prominent now than they’d been in his room, and he slowly breathed them in again.

the rustling of pots and pans became clearer now as he stood there, and the person behind the apparent noise was too caught up in their task. they were rushing from one corner of the tiny kitchen to the other all while flipping some weird, round discs on a skillet. they were golden brown when they flipped them, and din took the abundance of bubbles popping on their surface as a sign that attention was needed. his eyes moved to scan another scene: his unofficial shipmate was occupied feeding the little greenling at the foot of the table. his hardly incoming set of teeth nibbled on a piece of the cooked bread, cooing with satisfaction at the sugary flavor. it stopped mid-bite after a few seconds, its big, rounded eyes flicking up towards the stove, then back to its (adoptive) dad.

“you should probably take a look at the...cakes?” din finally asked you after a cloud of smoke started to form above them.

with a minor jump, you turned to face the man behind the inquiry before catching a glimpse at what he meant. you quickly made your way over and input the code to shut off the heat, brief curses leaving your mouth the entire time. “oh, kriff!” you exclaimed, “does this thing even work right-shit!”

“it hasn’t been used in ages. are you alright?” he moved into the tiny kitchen and motioned to your now burned skin. your pinky, instead of being its natural hue, was now bright red from its top edge to the bottom. from the ground, the baby made a sound of grievance and started to shuffle in your direction, its tiny hands reaching up when he finally reached you. din watched as you scooped him up with your good hand and into your arm, and he watched as you laughed lightly at the child’s reaction.

intently watching the interaction, he failed to notice when your gaze fell upon him and observed his stance-stuck between coming to your aid or staying still. “i’m fine, it was just a small sting,” you clarified. it was hard to tell his expression with his face covered, but the way he tipped his helmet to one side prompted you to continue. “i promise it doesn’t even hurt anymore. watch,” you extended your hand outward for the mandalorian to examine, the other still holding a very lively baby.

din’s gloved palm now supported yours from underneath and didn’t make haste in observing the abrasion. the fingers of his free hand grabbed your pinky and inspected the affected area. you recoiled immediately at the pain, slipping your hand away from his grip.

“you’re not a very decent liar,” he joked.

you shrugged, “i don’t like to worry you, that’s all.” the child was now on the floor again after you turned to collect the pancakes that remained edible, placing two on one plate and four on another. “i made you some breakfast, though i’m not..quite sure how to describe it,” you smiled.

“i’ve got time,” he reached behind you to take the smaller portion, then walked to the table and pulled a chair out for him to sit. “what’s the honey for?”

“oh, you drizzle that over these,” you pointed to the semi-charred discs. “they’re just cakes, and the syrup helps make them sweet.”

before din could acknowledge what you had just said, and before he could even grab his fork, you switched his plate. now, he had four instead of two. he looked down for a few seconds, and then back up at you.

“you need your strength, din’ika.”

“i’m already strong.”

“yes, but that doesn’t mean you should eat less,” you pointed out.

he sighed, knowing full well that his reasoning matched yours to begin with and swallowed a rebuttal. he wished you could see the look of gratitude forming underneath his headgear, and he was about to show you until he realized he morally couldn’t, but the swift impulse to do so was too intriguing to let it slip, the urge too enthralling to not go through with it all.

and you recognized his compulsion, you really did, yet you respected him in the same way he respected his creed. the only option, in the meantime, was to eat in differing rooms as you’ve previously done.

“tell me if you like it,” you said at the doorway, your own plate with a jar of the same honey in hand.

perhaps he was too captivated by the way his son waddled over to grip your other thumb as you left. it might’ve been the warmth of your skin still ingrained into his, or how he felt after he realized you’ve done all of this for him.

a faint thud fell upon the ambiance when his helmet came off, followed by the squeaks of the cutlery scraping against the glass. the taste of honey mingled with the buttery cake in his mouth when he took his first bite, and faded after he took his last. he newly sensed it when din blurred your vision with a dark cloth, and it flowed into him once more when your taste danced on his tongue.

and he simply couldn’t get enough.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #my writing!#star wars

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artificiallyimplantedmemories · 3 years

Note

▽ Running your hand between their thighs, and splitting their legs apart.

meme: acts of affection (holy crap 3 years later)

A year was a long time to spend apart, no matter who you were. A year apart from the man that she would probably tear apart time and space for? Unthinkable. And yet, as when the end of the world was nigh, they trusted each other to do what was right, to fight for what they believe in, and to survive.

Thank every deity under the sun that he survived.

Their reunion was nothing short of ecstatic, with Bucky very nearly throwing himself into Natasha’s arms, much to their friends’ amusement. To be fair, if he hadn’t, she would have done the same to him. But when the chaos subsided, they were quiet by each other’s side, gently leaning into each other to find the solid and comforting reminder that they were alive and together once more.

The day faded, and people slowly retreated to their rooms, their homes, their individual lives. Nat found herself pulling Bucky away to their apartment, welcoming the idea of sleeping in his embrace again.

It wasn’t actually clear when it had become their apartment. It had been Nat’s third flat, a sort of go-between safe-house that had been open to Bucky’s use. Over time, things had accumulated there — at first it was equipment, spare clothes, an extra set of weapons — and then notes, in careful hand and a code only the two of them knew.

[Bandages are missing. Hope you’re okay.] [I’m fine. My dress from the last gala is pleated. What did you do to it?] [I miss you, this is taking too long. I won’t ask where you are.] [Asking you to wait for me is selfish even for me, but…] [Please come home soon.]

And so memories gathered with materials, even though time there was almost never spent together, and at some point Natasha couldn’t help but think of it as theirs instead of just hers. Certainly she’d never given anyone else leave to use that particular location, though ones nearby had been open to other friends. This was private. This was home.

Home they went, walking side by side with their hands brushing occasionally. Outside the protections of the tower, they rarely clung to each other, ready to pull a gun or scramble to an escape route at any moment. Once they were safely barricaded inside, they could finally drop their guard. The walls were custom made, and unless a bomb fell on the building or some superpowered villain broke through the bulletproof windows, little could hurt them.

“We made it,” Nat murmured, and she wasn’t just talking about them arriving. They’d been through so much, made worse by not being able to support each other except at a distance, and the upwelling of emotions in her caused her to suddenly turn and grab his face. She pulled him in for a kiss, slow and deep, and then breathed a sigh of relief.

Home. Whole. Who would have thought?

Bucky seemed to have a similar reaction, melting into her. He embraced her tightly, and they stood like that for several minutes, simply soaking each other in.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her again, and she laughed. “I know.” “Really? Pulling a Han Solo on me?” “Hardly,” she smirked. “He didn’t follow up with this.”

She surged forward, shoving him into a wall and kissing him hard. She didn’t let him go until he was breathless, eyes blown wide. It had been a loooooong time, and holy fuck was she good at this. He was tempted to ask if she’d been keeping in practice, but suppressed it. There was a time and place for that kind of sass, and this wasn’t it.

“I love you too.” Natasha beamed at him. “Come on, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

Well he couldn’t complain there. He grinned back at her, following her to the bedroom, eyes traveling from to the curl of her hair to the curve of her waist. Along the way, he stripped out of his shirt and toed off his shoes. Nat would yell at him later to put them away, but not today. Socks followed, then belt and trousers. By the time Natasha, still wearing everything except her heels, sat on the bed, he was down to his briefs and nothing else. She grinned, enjoying the view.

“Your turn.” He knelt at the foot of the bed in front of her feet, looking up at her reverently, before working her silky socks down her feet. With those out of the way, he could pull away her skirt, leaving it puddled on the floor next to him. He glanced up again only to barely avoid being smacked in the face by her shirt. She was laughing, and the sound of it made him feel so whole that he could barely breathe.

He dropped his head again, pressing kisses to the tops of her feet, then dragging his lips up to her knees. The laughter vanished in a huff, Natasha’s hand coming down to softly run through his hair. Gently, he ran his thumbs down the seam of her inner thighs, pulling them apart as he lay kisses along the way, and Nat only pulled him away to graze another kiss to his forehead. He was so utterly loved, probably more than he ever knew. She was only too grateful that it was mutual.

She let her legs fall to each side as he moved in again, sighing in pleasure as his warm breath ghosted across her skin. The first tentative flick of the tongue against her panties made her tighten her grasp into his hair, and it took a surprising amount of self control not to simply buck into it. It has been ages, after all, and nobody knew her body as well as Bucky did. On top of that, he’d always been such an immensely generous lover that even if she’d ever entertained the idea of dragging someone into bed for a romp, it simply wouldn’t have compared. Besides, it was hard to want anyone she didn’t love anymore. Bucky was it for her, that’s all there was to it. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Gentleness soon faded, the metal arm gripping finger-bruise tight on her thigh (she didn’t mind, had told him so a thousand times until he stopped feeling guilty about it), and Natasha quaked and quivered under the assault of his mouth. Undergarments were stripped away, and eventually Nat dragged him up onto the bed so they could entwine themselves properly, rutting and anxious and full of pent-up passion.

It felt like being complete.

In the afterglow, with sweat cooling on her skin, Natasha considered getting up and taking a shower, despite how sore and wobbly she felt after so many rounds of sex. The shift in the line of tension within her body must have triggered something bone-deep in Bucky though, because he pulled her close, almost too tight.

“Stay,” he murmured, even though he knew full well she wouldn’t have gone far.

For tonight, she’d let it slide. “Okay, love,” she replied, kissing the tip of his nose. “Okay. I’m here. I’ll stay.” Forever, if you’ll have me. Until the very end of time itself, I’ll stay.

#lostsouldier #asked;#meme reply;#drabble;#nsfw;#look what you've done I've written a novel again immediately and instantly for your Bucky #gods we love you a lot #ship: these frozen hearts (buckynat);#buckynat

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wedreamerz · 4 years

Text

Roll You In Sugar

Follow Up to Buttons

Written for @mcukinkbingo

Square Filled: SugarBaby/Daddy

Pairing: Tony/Peter. (Peter is 18+)

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Tags: Daddy/Sugar Baby, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Smut, Fluff

“Good night, Daddies,” I blew a sleepy kiss to my guests before turning off the camera. It was a good show. The guests had been encouraging, their comments just enough to tip me other the edge. But I was disappointed when youknowwhoIam was mostly silent through the show. He’d thanked me at the end but other than that, he’d been quiet.

I fell back onto my bed, surrounded by discarded clothes and dildos, hoping he hadn’t been disappointed with my performance. A little chime sounded on my laptop, indicating a notification had come through. I stretched a groaned, not wanting to move, but curious, a little hopeful.

<youknowwhoIam> private: You’re stunning, Sweetheart. Where are you? Let me take you to dinner? Let me spoil you like you deserve.

~~~~~~~~~~

He wore a mask, black lace that obscured his features but did nothing to hide his beauty. I was hard, leaking and throbbing with need but I didn’t touch myself. This performance wasn’t for me, despite his cheeky Iron Man underoos.

The others talked to him, shouted commands. I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I wanted to whisper in his ear. I wanted to hear him moan when I touch him, open his tight little ass on my fingers. He deserved flesh, flowers, kisses, and silk - not those cheap nylon stockings that clung to his firm, pale thighs. I wanted to put him in the finest. And I wanted him all to myself.

Chest flushed, cock so hard in his fist, he came so pretty. I watched, breathless and aching when he let go, little nose scrunched, mouth open and ready for me to fill it.

God… did I want to fill it.

~~~~~~~~~

My heart raced. He wanted to meet me...like... actually meet me. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t meet a complete stranger I’d barely spoken to.

Could I?

<Underoos> private: How do I know you’re not a serial killer?

<youknowwhoIam> private: I’m not.

<Underoos> private: But how do I know?

<youknowwhoIam> private: I’ll prove it. Turn on your camera.

<Underoos> private: Why?

<youknowwhoIam> private Trust me, Sweetheart. All I wanna do is show you something.

I bit my lip, butterflies at war in my stomach. I was still naked and for a moment I considered staying that way. He’d already seen me come. But outside of the show, it felt strange, a little too exposed. So, I pulled on my Iron Man hoodie and zipped it up before turning on the camera.

The window popped up as usual. And I saw that youknowwhoIam was the only one in the chat. In the next moment, my screen flickered, and another window popped up, a black screen that scrolled with code for just a second before it lit up, revealing someone’s chest.

The software didn’t work this way. I couldn’t see any of the guests, only chat with them.

“What the…” I whispered.

A large hand covered the camera lens, distorting the screen for just a moment before it pulled away and…

My stomach dropped down to my knees.

“T-Tony Stark?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The boy had a point. I could be anyone. But I wasn’t. And the fastest way through that argument was revealing my identity. I had no qualms about it. I wanted him to know me, know who I was and what I wanted.

Friday hacked the system and with a quick adjustment to the camera, I got to watch that beautiful face light up with excitement and awe.

“T-Tony Stark?” he said, eyes wide.

“See, I told you, not a serial killer,” I said with a smirk, leaning back against the headboard.

“H- how did you…right...you’re Tony Stark. Of course, you hacked my computer.”

“Not yours. Your company’s. Just a little piggybacking off of their cam feature.”

He smiled at that, genuine and so fucking sweet. He shook his head and shrugged. “Why?”

“Because I want you to take me seriously. I want to take you to dinner."

He looked into the camera, bit his lip. "But why me?" he asked with a frown. "I'm just a broke college student trying to make a little money camming."

"Let's just say I don't like to share. I want you all to myself. Just dinner. No obligations. No strings. I'll fly wherever you are. And if you never want to see me again, so be it."

"I… I'm…"

He was looking for an excuse to say no. But he wanted to say yes; I could see it in his eyes.

"Come on, Sweetheart… what do you have to lose?" I said softly, careful not to swing his pendulum in the opposite direction. "Tell you what, let's just start at the beginning. What's your name?"

He glanced to the side at something off-camera - a door maybe? Was he alone? Did he have a boyfriend? I didn't care. He drew a breath and seemed to come to some kind of decision.

"Peter. Peter Parker."

~~~~~~~~~~

He sent a limo. A long, black stretch limo. A week after Tony fucking Stark hijacked my webcam, it pulled up in front of my apartment, standing out like the sorest of thumbs.

I had been waiting on the stoop, hoping May wouldn't notice. I hurried forward as a tall, kind of cranky looking man got out of the driver's seat and met me on the sidewalk.

"Peter Parker?" he asked, eyeing the row of apartments with only a touch of distrust.

"Um, yes." I gulped and shoved my hands in the pockets of my only good dress pants.

"Great. The Boss asked me to tell you he's sorry he couldn't be here to pick you up. He'll meet you at the restaurant. My name is Mr. Hogan. I'll be your driver tonight."

He opened the door for me, and I stepped back, second- no, fourth guessing this decision. What was I doing? I had no business meeting a client.

But it's Tony Stark, that thirsty voice in the back of my mind piped up. The one that had been there when I'd jerked off to the countless posters, magazines and leaked bootleg, cellphone porn videos. He was my celebrity crush, my goal. I wanted to be like him: genius, superhero, philanthropist. He made a difference.

But it's Tony Stark, that other voice spoke up, the one who never failed to notice the articles about the people he'd been spotted with.

"Come on, kid. Boss isn't gonna wait forever," Mr. Hogan said, nodding at the open car door.

"Right, uh, sorry," I said as I climbed in.

It was quiet inside, warm and cozy in contrast to the February chill. The only coat I owned looked horrible with the grey dress pants and a blue dress shirt I'd chosen. So, I'd ditched the coat and topped the outfit with the soft grey sweater May had gotten me last Christmas.

I didn't know where we were going or even if what I was wearing was appropriate. I mean, Mr. Stark was used to the best, the finest. I looked down at my pants, already wrinkled, and frowned.

This was a huge mistake.

~~~~~~~~~~

I'd done my research.

Peter Parker had graduated high school early and was at the top of his class, in his third year at Empire State University where he majored in Biophysics and minored in journalism. He was a photographer and had had several of his photos featured in The Daily Bugle just this year alone.

I couldn't help but be impressed. Not only was Peter the most beautiful creature on the planet, he was a fucking genius. But what made my boy truly fascinating was what he got up to in his spare time. And I'm not talking about camming. Imagine my surprise when I learned that my boy had a secret identity that had nothing to do with Underoos.

When the limo pulled up to the restaurant, I smiled and sauntered out from under the awning. I waved Happy away and he waved back in acknowledgment as I opened Peter's door.

He looked up at me, all wide-eyed and fresh-faced, like a fucking princess ready for the ball. His cheeks were flushed, lips bitten pink.

“Mr. Parker?" I said and extended my hand.

"Mr. Stark."

He smiled; a tiny thing that grew until his eyes lit with pleasure. His hand in mine wasn't something I was prepared for, the warmth, the want of never letting it go. Neither was his cheeky grin.

He looked up at the restaurant I'd chosen and chuckled. "Not quite what I was expecting," he said.

I eyed the little brick building and nodded. "It's my favorite Italian joint in Queens. They have the best -"

"Chicken parm, I know," he said. "We order from here all the time."

"Good. Unless you'd rather go somewhere else? Uptown? I have a jet; I could take you for real Italian food."

"Oh, no no no… I'm not complaining. I love this place. I just assumed…"

"That I'd take you to some big fancy Manhattan hot spot?"

Peter nodded and looked down at his shoes.

"Would you have been comfortable there?" I asked, gently turning him, tipping his chin so that he met my gaze. "Meeting me for the first time in the middle of that chaos?"

"No," Peter admitted.

"That's why I chose here," I said, not admitting to hacking his google account, looking through his Yelp reviews. "I wanted you to feel comfortable."

"Thank you. I... I was a little intimidated. I mean…"

"I know, Sweetheart. But you shouldn't be. You're young, sure. But I did my homework. You're brilliant. Come on. They're holding a table for us in the back."

~~~~~~~

Hand on the small of my back, he guided me inside. I melted, literally leaned into his warmth. I'd known he was beautiful and witty. But to have the full force of Tony Stark's undivided attention, to be swimming in that warm espresso gaze - it was more intoxicating than any amount of attention I could ever receive from the men in the chat.

I'd expected wooing, amusing anecdotes from his trip to Japan or the last Avenger's mission. But he continued to surprise me.

"So, tell me about your classes," he said after we had ordered.

"Oh, um… I'm studying Biophysics. But you probably already know that," I said.

"I know what you're studying and that you're top of your class. But I'd like to know what your plans are. What do you plan to do with your degrees?"

"I'm not really sure yet. I guess, whatever I do, I just want to make a difference," I said. "I want to do something to help people."

He listened. He didn't once look at his phone. He didn't interrupt me and seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. Which was more than I could say for most guys my age. But then guys my age never did interest me.

Dinner flew by so fast. When the waiter brought the check to the table, I focused on the slice of chocolate cheesecake we were sharing. I'd reluctantly agreed to dinner and now that it was over, I couldn't help but want more.

~~~~~~~~~~

The limo was waiting, a toasty warm refuge in the flurry of flakes falling from the sky. He'd agreed to dinner and fulfilled his promise, but I didn't want him to go.

Peter shivered and I frowned, noticing that he wasn't wearing a coat. I stepped closer and smiled.

"Thank you for coming to dinner," I said softly and stroked his cheek, not missing the way he leaned into my touch.

I wanted to push him into the limo, pull him to my arms - into my bed. I wanted so much more from Peter Parker than a one-night stand. I wasn't a jealous man. Morally, I had no issue with the way Peter made money. But the thought of the men in the chatroom watching Peter in his most intimate moments made me want to break things and I knew I'd never be able to handle it.

I wanted Peter all to myself.

"I had a good time," he said with a smile so sweet it made my teeth ache.

"Don't you have a coat?" I asked and he looked down, cheeks pink from more than the cold.

"It didn't look good with my outfit," he mumbled. I pushed down the possessive urge to wrap my arms around him and instead took my coat off and set it over his shoulders. It was too big, but he snuggled into the warmth with a grin.

"But now you're cold," he said.

I tipped up his chin. He didn't resist.

"Then come keep me warm," I said. "Come home with me, Peter." I held my breath, expecting an argument or excuses.

But Peter didn't pull away. He smiled and stepped closer.

"I'd like that."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Come here, Sweetheart," Tony purred and patted his knee. I'd never wanted to be anywhere more and moved into his lap without hesitation.

He ran his hands up my thighs and chest, then cupped my face.

"You're so beautiful," he said. "And smart. Peter, I'm so amazed by your mind and impressed with your tenacity and kindness. You should be proud of everything you've accomplished."

I loved the way he made me feel, all melty and out of my head. On camera, I was in control. In my day-to-day, I had to be very aware of my schedule, budget, and time management. But in Tony's arms, for the first time in I couldn't remember how long, I felt like I could let go.

Tony Stark thinks I'm amazing. I couldn't help but wonder what he would think if he knew that I had yet another secret identity. That I was the vigilante crime fighter for the people The Bugle had been going on about recently.

He rubbed his thumb over my lips, gently pressed between them when I opened for him.

"So fucking pretty," he breathed. "Can I kiss you, Sweetheart?"

I nodded, expecting him to swoop in for the kill. Instead, he slowly moved his hands down my back, cupped my ass and yanked me closer. He was hot, already hard, and smelled like a fucking dream.

I closed my eyes and moaned when he bent, not to my lips, but my neck. He nibbled up the length, pausing to bite and suck at my earlobe before tracing my jaw with his tongue. I tipped my head back and revelled in the attention. He took his time. nibbling and sucking his way to my lips. When he finally got there, finally took my mouth, I was ready to give him everything.

Demanding, luscious, his kiss was all-consuming. I let him take control, bent to his will until I was panting and rolling my hips, desperate for friction. He pulled back with a pop and then sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make me moan. He pressed soft kisses to my lips and then across my face.

I whined when he grasped my hips, slowing my movements.

"Slow down, little Spider," he whispered. "I want to see you come apart in my bed."

It took a moment for his words to sink in, moving through the chemical cocktail in which my brain was swimming.

I gasped. Eyes wide, I met his gaze, suddenly shaking.

"Shhh, it's okay. Yes, I know your secret. But it just makes me want you more." He stroked my back, soothed my fears. "You're so amazing, Peter Parker. Let me show you how much. Let me spoil you. Let me ease your way."

~~~~~~~~~~

Peter tensed as the reality of my words sunk in. Yes, I knew he was Spiderman. Friday had found out while doing a facial recognition on the boy. A security camera had caught a few seconds of his face as he dipped down an alley to change. When Spiderman emerged a few moments later I put it all together.

"You're so amazing, Peter Parker. Let me show you how much. Let me spoil you. Let me ease your way."

"M-Mr. Stark...I--"

I had to be cautious. Peter was proud. And he should be. I didn't want him to think I was trying to take anything away from what he'd done on his own.

"I want you, Peter," I said softly, stroking through his curls. "Forgive me for prying -- it's what I do. But everything about you is a fucking wonder. Everything I learn just makes me want you more. But Sweetheart, I don't think I can share you."

Peter frowned, pouting just a little bit. My stomach clenched.

"What do you mean?"

"Watching you online...Jesus, you're fucking beautiful. Those men don't deserve you. Peter, I... when I say I want you -- I want you all to myself. I can't… I don't think I can handle sharing you like that."

Peter looked me in the eye and shook his head. "But I... that's how I support myself."

"Let me."

Peter shook his head and frowned. "Let you what?"

"Let me support you. Let me give you everything you need. Everything you deserve-"

"Mr. Stark, I'm not...I can't… I'm not gonna be some Sugar Baby. I work hard for-"

"Peter, just listen to my proposal, okay? Just listen to me. And if you never want to see me again, I'll have Happy drop you off at home."

"Happy?"

"The bearded man in the driver's seat."

Peter huffed a laugh. "Ironic. I like it. Okay, go ahead," he said after a moment's consideration. I thought it was a good sign that he didn't pull away or move from my lap.

"You're brilliant, Peter. And investing in your future would not just benefit you. I have to look out for me, too. And to that end, I need bright young minds like you in my camp. I want to offer you a full ride to your current or dream school of your choice. You study, spend your time being brilliant, graduate and then come work for me. I'd be an idiot not to snap you up before my competition gets wind of your accomplishments."

"But I still need to live. And Mr. Stark, you just met me. How can you even be sure that you'll want to continue seeing me?"

"You're right. I know, shit happens. There are no guarantees that you'll want to continue seeing me either. I mean, I snore sometimes and I can't fucking cook to save my life."

Peter giggled at my joke and I smiled. I wanted to pull him into my arms, but I knew I had more work to do if I was going to seal this deal.

"That's what contracts are for, Sweetheart. We negotiate, each party gets what they need, and we both go home happy. Or even better, we go to bed happy."

Peter bit his lip and looked at where my hands rested on his thighs.

"All this because you don't like to share?" he said softly.

"All this because I see so much potential in you. I want to encourage you; I want you to see that you deserve more than what you're settling for right now. You've done an amazing job. I am only offering to make it easier for you to achieve your goals."

Peter smiled and finally met my gaze. "And the fact that you wouldn't have to share me with the men in the chat room?"

"Consider it a bonus," I shrugged. “Besides, you’re fucking Spiderman. Imagine the things we could do together.”

Peter laughed and kissed me, soft and sweet and so fucking delicious. Then he scrambled out my lap and crawled over to the minibar. He grabbed a handful full of napkins and then climbed back into my lap.

"Do you have a pen?" he asked.

As we made our way out of Queens and headed toward the tower, Peter and I engaged in the fine art of negotiation.

~~~~~~~~~~

We left a trail of scribbled up napkins and clothes from the door to Tony's bed. Specifically, my clothes. He'd stripped me bare while he remained fully clothed in the most beautiful suit I'd ever seen - charcoal with a pale silver shirt and lavender striped tie.

Tony pushed me gently onto the bed and stood up with a playful smirk.

"Be a good boy," he said. "And watch."

I bit my lip as he slowly removed his jacket, breathless with anticipation.

"Per Article 2, Subsection 1 of our agreement, I'm now basically your Sugar Daddy. And I get to roll you sugar as often as I desire."

"I don't think that's how it's worded."

"Hmmm, but that's the spirit of the agreement."

Tony winked and moved over to his dresser. "In fact. I'd like to start right now."

I sat up, my feet barely touched the plush carpet as I perched on the edge of his bed, curious.

"I loved your outfit the other night," he said. "But my Baby gets only the best."

He handed me a flat, black box with a silver ribbon around the middle. I slid off he ribbon and squirmed with excitement. He'd bought me something before we'd even come to an agreement. I wasn't used to relying on someone else to buy me things. Sure, the Daddies on the chatroom bought me sex toys and underwear off my wish list. But none of those gifts had ever been given with such an expensive brand name on the box. It thrilled and terrified me at the same time.

My cheeks warmed; the flush spread down my neck as I opened the box to find a pair of real silk stockings. They were black with a row of tiny, silver spiders around the thigh.

"Daddy," I breathed, stroking the fabric. My body responded as I imagined how they would feel against my skin. I'd never owned a thing so fine and delicate.

"May I put them on you?" he asked.

"But… I don't want to rip them," I answered, looking up to Tony's eyes.

He smirked and cupped my cheek. "Baby, if you rip them, I'll buy you another pair."

I bit back a gasp. Tony chuckled as he devoured me with his eyes, watched as I hardened from just his words.

”Lie back," he said.

I did as he asked, heart beating wildly in my chest.

He took my foot in his warm hands, massaged strong fingers into the arch. When I moaned with pleasure and closed my eyes, he murmured, "That's it, Baby, relax. Let me spoil you."

Tony pulled one stocking from the box and scrunched it around my toes. He pulled it up, smoothed it up my thigh, and tugged the band into place.

"Exquisite," he said, stroking up and down my calves.

I peeked through lowered lids to watch him to the same with the other stocking and then press kisses up each of my legs. I loved the warmth of his breath through the silk.

"Perfect. See the way they fit you? Like a second skin," Tony said, rubbing his lips just above the band. "I only want the finest to touch your skin, Peter. And tomorrow, after class, we're going shopping."

I opened my mouth to argue but he pressed a finger to my lips. "Indulge me, Sweetheart."

My cock throbbed. The way he said even the most innocent of things made me wild, made me want to climb into his lap and please him.

"Okay, Daddy," I said, preening when he beamed at me.

"Good boy," he purred.

~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn't prepared for the way those words made me feel.

"Okay, Daddy."

Peter had said them on the video, talking to the men. And yeah it had been hot. But this time… this time those words were all for me and it was as if he'd given me the keys to Disneyland.

"Come here, Baby," I said, pulling him to his feet. "Show Daddy how you look."

Peter did a little turn, his cheeks on fire.

"You look so fucking pretty, Baby. You wanna show Daddy how much you like his gift?"

I was worried for a moment that I had taken it too far, that he'd be offended. But he whined and nodded before falling to his knees.

"That's it, Baby," I crooned, running my fingers through his hair as he undid my belt and pants.

"Daddy," he whispered, almost to himself, when he pulled my cock free. I smiled. He was so fucking adorable.

He wrapped his hand around my shaft and leaned forward to rub his lips over the tip.

"You're so big," he said, breath warm against my skin.

"You like it, Baby?" I asked.

He pressed a kiss to my frenulum and looked up at me with the most mischievous expression before parting his lips and taking me between them. He took me slowly down his throat and for a moment I couldn't breathe.

Peter closed his eyes and shuddered, pulled back with a little gasp. He smiled and looked up into my eyes.

"Fucking amazing," I whispered. He squirmed and smiled at the praise, nibbling little kisses up my shaft and around the head. He licked around the tip, little pink tongue flicking and teasing until I thought I might come like that.

"Fuck, Baby. Come here, I'm gonna come if you keep that up and I don't wanna come in your mouth this time."

He whined and pulled off my dick with a salacious pop. I wiped his chin and patted his cheek before pulling him to his feet.

I removed the rest of my clothes and sat down on the bed, scooting back to lean against the headboard. Peter scrambled into my lap as soon as I held out my hand.

"Condoms?" he asked, and I smiled.

"Good boy," I said and rummaged in my bedside table for the box and tube of lube. I handed them to Peter, and he smirked as he set them aside within reach.

"Fancy," he commented, eyeing the brand names.

I shrugged and gathered him to my chest, trailed a finger down his spine. "I told you, Baby. Only the finest touches your skin," I whispered and continued down between his pert little cheeks. "And that includes this sweet little pucker here."

Peter moaned, pushed back on my finger.

"Open me up, Tony," he murmured into my chest and stroked the sensitive skin around where the arc reactor had been.

He had to know what he was doing, had to realize what he traced. But he said nothing, only kissed the spot reverently and pushed back against my fingers again.

"Okay, Baby," I said and grabbed the lube.

Peter made the most delicious noises. As I fingered him open, he whined and moaned, rocked his hips in a languid dance that left me breathless. Our cocks brushed together with just enough friction to excite and tantalize but not tip us over the edge.

"M'ready, Daddy, please," Peter whispered, scooted back and reached for the box of condoms.

Watching Peter concentrate might be the cutest thing in the world - especially when he was concentrating on rolling a condom down my shaft. He took his time, little pink tongue between his teeth as he drizzled lube down my length.

Satisfied, he looked into my eyes and said, "How do you want me, Daddy?"

I pulled him closer, ran my hands over the swell of his ass, and squeezed. "Just like this, Baby. Ride my cock."

Peter wrapped his arms around my neck and rose up on his knees. He took me slowly, eyes never leaving mine. I moaned as he quivered around me, desperate to thrust, take his tight little hole. But I reined in my control and let him lead.

"Oh my God, you feel amazing," he breathed into my neck.

"So do you, Baby. Now please, for the love of all that is holy - move."

~~~~~~~~~~

Filled and enveloped, I lost track of where I ended, and he began. Never had I been so consumed. The scent of his skin, the taste of his kiss - I took all of him into me in return.

"Daddy," I breathed.

"Don't chase it, Baby. Let it come to you."

He bit my lip and thrust up into me. I met him on the upstroke, sparks burst behind my eyes.

He caressed my silk-clad skin, hands skimming over my thighs, moving up to grip my hips.

"You look so fucking pretty in those stockings, Peter," Tony growled. "I love the thought of you in pretty things, perfect, beautiful things. Things that I buy just for you."

"Daddy," I cried out. "Please." I needed...I needed everything, wanted all of him. He reached between us and grasped my cock, gave it a squeeze that made the sparks return.

"So hard for Daddy. So ready to cum all over his new stockings."

"Yes."

"Yeah?"

"Daddy!"

"Come for me," he whispered, lips on my ear, hand around my cock. With a few firm strokes, I was there. He pulled me down to take all of him as he grunted his release.

I looked down to find my cum on my belly and thighs, thick white streams soaking into the fabric, into the pale skin that showed through a few tears. I shuddered and squirmed as Tony pulled another stream from my body before I collapsed against him, warm in the cocoon of his arms.

He pressed kisses to my temple and stroked my back as we caught our breath. Still hard, Tony moved just a little, slowing sliding deeper inside.

Into the silence that followed, I whispered, "I ripped my stockings, Daddy."

Tony chuckled. "It's okay, Baby. Daddy will get you a truckload of stockings. A pair for every single day."

I snuggled into his chest, rubbed my face into the soft hair, tracing the ridge of scar tissue with my tongue. I was unprepared for how utterly cared for he made me feel.

"And I'll wear them only for you," I said, meaning it. Why...how could I ever want anyone else?

Tony released a breath he seemed to have been holding. I smiled, charmed by his little insecurities.

"Just you," I said again.

He kissed my forehead and rested his cheek against my head.

"Just for you," he repeated my words. I knew them for what they were.

I giggled, sleepy now, light as a feather. "You gotta. You signed a contract."

Tony huffed a laugh. "Baby, I don't need a contract to hold me to that promise," I heard him say as I fell asleep in his arms.

#starker #tony x peter #peter x tony #mcu fanfiction

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fridays--child · 4 years

Text

A Lesson in Vulnerability

Was going for smut, ended up with the feels. Please enjoy(?) another rough, unedited post, including baby's first lemon in a decade.

Prompt “Of course deacon has a lot of disguises. One for each personality.”

Rating: 18+

“I’ve never met someone who has so many clothes. Except, you know, me.”

Galatea huffed a laugh. “What, you’re not the only one that has a different disguise for each personality?”

Meeting her eyes through their reflections distorted by the cracked full length mirror, Deacon placed his hand over his heart.

“You wound me. But seriously, did you swipe a whole Fallon’s store?”

Rolling her eyes at him, Galatea responded, “Is that where you got yours from?”

Deacon had never met a person who could transform herself quite like Galatea, who could change her whole being to attract or deflect attention as needed. With her hair up and under a hat, shoulders slumped in a man’s shirt and slacks, she was utterly unremarkable. Just another grimy wastelander, trying to eke a living before the rads, raiders, or bigots dug you an early grave. With a little lipstick and dark curls around her face, she was a bombshell come to life, a pre-war Aphrodite in a wiggle dress and heels. A magnet with a dimmer switch, pushing and pulling those in her wake. A human chameleon, no face change needed.

If he could choose a favourite (and he knew he had no right to), he’d probably say this incarnation was his. In her tiny green Goodneighbor apartment, with her shoes and jeans kicked off, analysing every item in her wardrobe before lovingly folding them, packing the chosen items into their shared duffle bag. She had kicked her shoes and jeans off as soon as she walked in the door, her makeup nearly worn off from the days travel back north. Even after a two week sabbatical, the closest thing to R&R he could offer, she still cackled with a nervous energy, a soft but increasing hum indistinguishable to those who didn’t know her.

It felt almost domestic, a wink of his long-forgotten earlier life. A false intimacy between two liars and secret keepers, ignoring the gulf that still existed between them despite the stings and firefights and sex.

But if he was about to put both of them in just stupid amounts of danger, he would take it greedily.

Galatea scrunched her nose at an old fisherman’s sweater, throwing into the bag before picking up a modest evening dress. She whistled at Deacon to pause shaving the two week’s growth from his face, holding it up to his mirrored eyeline.

“Do you think Mags would like this? Or is it not,” Galatea mimed a triangle from her collarbones to sternum, “enough?”

“Probably a little conservative for her.”

“All good, I’ll send it to Piper then. Unless,” she smirked, “you were planning to gender bend again next time you face swap?”

He snickered at her, bringing the straight razor back to his jaw. “‘Fraid I don’t have the decolletage for that doll, I’d never do it justice. Why, would you like that?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It wouldn’t be my first rodeo with a woman.”

Temporarily stunned, Deacon gulped as the blood left his head and headed south, earning a dirty barked laugh from Galatea.

“Oh, now you’ve nicked yourself, you degenerate. Mind out of the gutter.”

She threw him a face cloth from across the room, before dragging one of the two dining chairs across the room to the small basin and mirror before straddling it backwards. Pushing her two long braids towards her back, she looked up at the older man expectedly.

“Go on then.”

“Beg pardon?” She kept staring. “If you’re after a steam and shave, you might be knocking on the door. I gotta tell ya, if that’s your stubble, you’ve gotta teach me how to get such a close shave.”

For the first time in the months they worked together, Galatea’s voice wobbled.

“Cut my hair please.”

Deacon frowned down at her. “Are you sure?” When she nodded, he added, “why are you so nervous? I’ve seen you destroy coursers and super mutants practically laughing.”

Huffing slightly, she undid the buttons of her shirt. For a minute, he was momentarily lost for words. He had always been aware of the mottled skin that ran from the edge of the left-hand edge of her jaw down. Had wondered once or twice if the reason she always wore a high neck or scarf was to hide it, perhaps selfishly wondering if it made her too recognisable to go undercover with him. Each button she undid revealed a greater expanse of burnt flesh, melting into the soft cognac of her untouched skin and disappearing underneath the worn bra she wore. Galatea’s eyes flicked down to it.

“Well, there’s no use hiding it now, and it’s not like I’ll have time to do this mop.”

Deacon nodded, gulping. “Where, ah.. How long do you want it?”

“Whatever, so long as I can still tie it back.”

Flicking open the mounted first aid kit, he grabbed out the rusted scissors, before carefully lining up the two plaits and snipping them in line with her scarred chin. Galatea’s eyes dropped to her lap, murmuring.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to infiltrate the Brotherhood of Steel.”

Deacon scoffed, fervently lining up the dark layers of her locks to make sure they’re even.

“I can’t believe Des thought we were the ones to do it.”

“Mmm. I mean, are you even able to still pass the fitness test, old man?”

Deacon pulled a face in the mirror, moving around to tame the waves around her face. “Careful with the guy whose cutting your hair, sweetheart.” Galatea gently slapped his arm in response.

“I swear to God, if you give me a hack job and I need to get a buzz cut, I will utter your recall code.”

A slightly awkward, but common silence fell between them. Deacon cleared his throat, pushing the edges of her shirt down her shoulders so he could blow off the stray hairs around her neck.

“I, uh, was wondering what you had hiding under there. Got to admit, slightly disappointed it wasn’t the Death Bunnies chest piece I was imagining.”

Galatea choked a hint of a laugh, betrayed by the wobble of her voice, pretty mouth hiding behind her fist.

“Trust me, even this,” she motioned to her chest, “would be preferable to tattoo Deak.”

Resting his hands on her neck, he gave her hair a final appraisal, catching the tremble as she swallowed. Meeting her glassy eyes in the mirror, he lifted her head up to meet his.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re offended about the Death Bunnies tattoo. I told ya, I’m happy to be matchies if you are.”

She didn’t answer, shaking her head.

“Is it about this?”

“It’s stupid,” she muttered, shaking her head once more. “I should be used to it by now, but it still bothers me. It’s a reminder that this is real, and that I can’t go back.”

Staring into his glasses, she added, “Do you ever cling to the old parts of yourself, Deak?”

Galatea had a habit of getting of close, of nearly drawing the parts of him he kept buried deep to the surface. A pandora’s box of ugly truths that would mark him as a sinner even to the faithless. He could offer no words of comfort without incinerating them both.

So when she leaned into the fire, he responded with igniting the only common ground they both held.

Sliding one hand to trace her jaw, the other hand’s finger tips traced the edges where her smooth skin turned rough. These fingers were replaced with his lips, chaste at first before her breath hitched. He mouthed at her neck, wishing his tongue and teeth could heal the residual sting. She rolled her neck at his touch, lips catching the hand on her jaw and sucking the fingers there.

Deacon knelt in front of her, continuing his ministrations down her breasts and abs, roughly pulling at her shirt and bra to continue his pilgrimage along the mottled cognac. Galatea melted in the chair, sliding forward as he lifted her hips to pull off the unneeded garments, along with her faded, once pretty underwear. He ran a thumb down along her heat, and the egotist inside him cheered at the wet dripping from her lips.

“Spread your legs for me,” he growled, nipping at the strong thighs. “I want you to watch yourself.”

It was an undeserved gift to watch this woman above him, undulating and moaning as he mouthed her cunt. Something only fitting for a man with a less blasphemous tongue than his. But they both worshipped at the altar of liars and cheats, and if there was one good deed within his power that could push him towards redemption, this would be it. To grant Galatea a taste of heaven, despite the purgatory she had wandered for years.

Jesus, he was getting sentimental in his old age.

Deacon fucked his tongue into her, lapping hungrily at the soft pink folds. She seldom came when he was inside her (something she assured him occurred with all previous partners), but her thighs shook around his shoulders, and damn it if he wasn’t going to try. He slipped one thick finger in, then a second, searching and crooking as he doubled his attention on her clit.

Galatea swore incoherently, a rambling rant of “ Deacon, fuck, Deacon!” as she gripped the arms of the chair. A broken sob ripped through her chest, and she slumped against him, roughly pushing him away while her breathing laboured. He could feel wet salty tears against his neck, and he held her face in his hands.

“Hey hey hey, shh. Galatea, it’s okay, okay? It’s okay.” He kissed her gently. “Was it too much?”

She nodded slowly, consciously trying to control her breathing.

“Just got a bit overstimulated. Give me a sec?” He nodded. He had been a tender man once, attentive, and he allowed the ghost of that man kiss her softly, letting her taste herself. She licked herself off his mouth, reaching towards his glasses as they bumped against the bridge of her nose.

“Take them off for me, Deak.”

A secret for a secret, a fair trade. He hesitated for a second, then let her remove them, her dark eyes analysing his face with the same intensity she held whenever she faced a new problem. It was a bit like staring into the sun. He wished it would burn him until there was nothing left but ash.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Pretty. I wouldn’t have guessed your eyes were blue.”

He groaned, silencing her compliment with a kiss before resting his forehead on hers.

“You were so fucking close.”

“I know.”

“You taste so fucking good. Tell me what you want. Anything.”

She kissed him again, hungrily, small hands gripping this throat. They could count on one hand the times he had kissed her before this, even if he had lost count of the times they had slept together before this. He moaned into her mouth, resulting in a breathless chuckle.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Deacon lifted her up roughly, carrying her to the bed. He was an older man, sore, with a crink in his back and knees that throbbed every time it rained. And yet, he bargained, he would take this small act of self-flagellation for the sweet prize it held. A little death, and, more importantly, his best agent at her best.

She giggled at his involuntary grunt of pain, and shooed the small calico kitten off of her bed Deacon stumbled towards. Pushing him back towards the pillows at the head, she straddled him. He felt thick, hot and throbbing beneath her, and distracted hands pulled off his jeans whilst he ripped his holey white t-shirt off. Licking her palm, she pumped him slowly, before lowering herself onto his cock and hissing at that sting. Even if she was no longer 210 years untouched, she still savoured the stretch, the feeling of him filling her. Deacon growled, gripping her hips and fighting the urge to fuck up into her. Grabbing her wrists in one hand, he moved them from where they covered her chest to grip the metal bed frame.

“No more hiding.” He used the other to roll her hips against his, steadying the jerky rhythm she was finding and meeting her thrust for thrust.

Galatea picked up her pace, rising and sinking, punctuating each snap of her hips with a breathy moan. Deacon busied his mouth on her chest, sucking and nipping at her full chest, tracing the small inked shapes and initials that littered over her ribs and arms. Galatea rode him wildly, intimately, containing none of the usual composure she usually held, even in their most perverse moments. He mouthed the S.A.M, italicised in black on her wrist, desperately trying to ignore the lick of fire in his filling his belly, racing Galatea to their release. She huffed desperately, ungracefully, as his fingers traced haphazard shapes around the bud between her thighs.

“Deaks, Deacon , I’m so close. So close.”

“I know baby, fuck. What do you need.”

She sobbed. “My name, please. Say it. My real one.”

Her cunt contracted around his cock, impossibly tight and deliciously hot, and he fucked up desperately into her, crushing her bodily to his chest. He could feel that familiar pull, stretching and teetering on the edge, and he sunk his teeth into her neck, bruising the unharmed side of her through

“Jesus, Gene. Imogene . I’m gonna, shit, I’m going to come!”

Galatea unravelled around him, sobbing, splendid and terrible in her climax. Deacon pushed her off him, letting her fall against the mattress and pumping himself as he spilled over his stomach and her thighs. He fell back against the mattress, breathing heavily, as his partner’s slowly steadied. Pushing the hair off from her face, he met her eyes, before wrapping a lazy arm low along her back. His muscles burned, and he longed to sleep. When was the last time he slept in a bed?

“You okay?”

Galatea nodded. “Yes.”

“Mmm.”

A beat of silence, then. “Deacon?”

“Mhmm?”

“Thanks.”

“S’all good.” He yawned, stretching his spare arm above his head. “Thanks for letting me see you naked.”

Gene slapped his aching abs. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

#gene grady #prompt #Fallout 4 #deacon x sole survivor #deacon #nsft #FO4 #sole survivor #female sole survivor

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alias-b · 4 years

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A/N: Just for the anon who requested a blurb of some Hopper/OC where Jim takes care of a diabetic gal when she goes into hypoglycemia. Frankly, I don’t have the details of this fic ironed out. A LOT is up in the air bc I’m changing everything I had written so let’s just pretend my OC, Lucy, is filling in for Flo bc she has some family thing to tend to for a couple months. This is a taste of them I guess? Fluff and pining? Pancreases suck. Billy/Camille is still my focus! But, this drabble was fun! Also, the first time Jim/Lucy is seeing the light of day. Thanks, anon! XOXO

Signals

Jim hated her dress.

Too bold for the morning especially when he was nursing a headache at daylight. Candy apple red like something from the Fourth of July Fair. Dash of citrus orange. Mouths watered for a bite. Tacky print that was vaguely tropical and sketched onto fabric. Loud against all the khakis and blues dancing around her.

Lucy enjoyed vibrant garments for someone who said very little. Some would say shy until you got her talking. Took months of careful banter to get her joking with the boys. But, the clothes fooled you.

They made for good conversation when El visited the station once. Not like there was a dress code for the secretary, she was always put together. Colorful and saccharine through all four seasons.

Today, the fans blew her skirts and perfume all about. Filled the station air with her. Jim readied to drop a file on her desk and caught lashes fluttering up to see his eyes. Hair blown out perfectly against a little desk fan for a look that was pure Hollywood. She stood out under dull lighting, skin bronzed and glittering brown eyes you could sink in.

And how he resisted.

“Something for me, Chief?” It wasn’t until a manicured hand tugged at the papers that he realized he’d been hovering there like an idiot for a good minute. “I’ll file it. Still waiting on Callahan’s report.” She tucked her hair, oblivious, and stood to turn to the row of cabinets. Bending over to organize it properly away in the correct place.

Everything was just so. Neat. Straight as an arrow. Often she stilled to put items in their correct places. Straightening pens an inch apart exactly or adjusting supplies upright. Like she was forcing a messy world to make sense.

“You finish the-?”

“Just typed it.” A flick of her wrist plucked a paper up from the typewriter, offering it. Mauve painted lips spread to smile. One that dazzled his boys. “Next one won’t be long.” Jim exhaled out his nose. Took it.

“Thanks.”

He hated her dress.

Hottest week of summer and the air conditioning goes out, meaning battle stations. Every ceiling and desk fan on full blast. Few of the guys brought standing ones from home.

Papers threatened to fly all over were it not for Lucy smacking anything she could down as a weight. Staplers, pictures, apples. Shiny like her damn dress. Nothing was out of place on her watch.

“You ever see the movie Seven Year Itch, Chief?” One of his officers had said later at the moment Lucy gasped to stop files from tossing upon Callahan’s desk.

A whoosh of air threatened the delicate balance. She planted his nameplate down at the same time hands slapped a swell of forms from flying away. Her skirt had flown up tender thighs to expose the garters holding nude stockings briefly.

Gulp.

“Would you quit acting like an animal?” Jim whacked the officer’s legs off his desk. “Mrs. Gillespie called again, all yours.” His guy huffed and plucked a hat up to go.

“You saved my day, Lucy.” Callahan’s nervous laugh caught.

“You owe me.” Lucy tapped the papers together and offered them. Jim poured himself another full coffee. She stood up and crossed through the sea of desks back to reception. Eyes followed the splash of color. “Handyman should be here in an hour. Unless one of you boys wants to impress me?” Two officers actually shot up to go downstairs hoping to fix the damn AC.

“Shouldn’t make bets like that, they’ll kill the rest of the power.” Jim had one elbow up on a file cabinet, sipping.

“Does that mean an early day for us?” She busied away to sort the in and out stacks upon her desk.

“Afraid those rules don’t apply to us.” Jim shifted when her perfume swept him at the fans beckoning. Beautiful by Estee Lauder. Only knew because he bumped into her buying it at Starcourt a few weeks ago. Ran away after some small talk. “Don’t like it here?”

“Like it plenty.” Brown eyes made a slow journey to see him over her shoulder. “Never a dull moment.” Jim’s lips quirked at that. A ways behind him, Powell was fiddling with the radio to let music pour over the rustling sounds of fans against pages. Lucy reached for her own mug and Jim caught a bead of sweat trail down the back of her neck.

“Any left in the pot?” She said.

“Davis snagged the rest.”

“Fresh pot it is, then.” Lucy blinked up at him looking flushed.

No pink in her cheeks despite the heat.

Jim crossed away to Powell’s desk when she instead began another batch of coffee. Picked up the pot and felt a dull electric sensation pulse through fingers. Gave it a quick wash and waltzed back in. Lucy set it in place and stared momentarily as if the next step was forgotten.

That same prickling flooded the length of her spine. Heat itched over her scalp as boys chattered behind her. Jim leaned against a short counter and chuckled at something she didn’t catch. Fingers flexed. Picked up a spoon to fill the paper filter. The prickling became heavier. She inhaled deep, leaned into the fan next to her. Swayed a little upon heels. Waves rolling along a distant shore.

A hand came up to rub her neckline. Felt for the thudding pulse there. Shifting dark, styled locks of hair away.

Jim’s eyes lifted at the movement of her skirts. The following stillness that took her over. Lucy wasn’t as loud as she dressed, but she was always moving. Even at her desk. Shifting about. Twirling hair. Clicking nails. Fussing with file after file. Rearranging anything and everything.

The rustling and radio became one sound. A shrill bellow like a gust of static. Lucy spooned coffee grounds. Once. Twice. A clatter caught Jim’s full attention. The silver spoon hitting the tile with powdery grounds scattering the toes of her shoes.

“Lucy?” He began, setting his mug aside when the few officers in turned as well.

“S-Sorry...” The word slurred longer. She bent down, only got halfway before her hand came up to a pounding temple. Like something struck her. Lucy shot up so fast, she barely caught herself wavering back. A drunken sort of movement. Both arms gave a tremor.

“Lucy!” Jim sprang forward this time. A big arm curled around her spine, brought her shaking body into his frame. One elbow instinctively pushed at his chest. Fingers came up to tug her collar in a confused motion.

“Spilled.” She said with little awareness, eyes hooded.

“I’ll call-”

“Grab a soda from the fridge.” Jim snapped the order before Powell could get the phone. “Now!”

“But-”

“She’s a diabetic, she needs sugar. Do it.” The harder command made him move quick.

“Lemme go.” Syllables weaved together awkwardly. Lucy felt around herself. Smacked up at Jim holding her upright. Her head twitched with every rattle of bones. Limbs stopped listening. Synapses sent messages all directions that were ignored. Flesh could have melted off bone and muscle. “Lemme go!” Sweaty and irritable, she blindly pushed at Jim who only brought her tightly against the hard lines of his chest.

“Chief.” Powell clicked the can with Callahan hovering to help aimlessly.

“Lucy, drink this.” Jim almost had the can shoved out of his grip. Crisp soda splashed the floor.

“Got it...I got...it.” She skidded. Dug her heels into the tile. “Cookie. M-My purse. Ngh, lemme go!” She’d drop if he released her.

“Soda is better, drink it.” Jim forced the can to her lips while she whipped around. Arms curled to her chest until her body was near convulsing. Fizzy soda slipped between her lips, dripping to stain the dress. An ugly force pushed at her body. Lucy slowed, fingers curled around Jim’s wrist as she choked and drank some. Coughed and flopped up until it bubbled out her nose. “There, you go. Give it a second.” Jim was delicate, the way he helped her back into a stuffed chair with her legs all jelly.

“Towel.” Callahan came next. “Should we call someone for her?”

“Ngh...” The word didn’t come so Lucy shook her head fiercely. Childlike. Hand still wrapped around Jim’s wrist when he gave her another long gulp. Coke sloshed down into her stomach. Lipstick smeared so he traded the can for a towel to blot her mouth. Brown eyes fluttered open again, heavy. She felt Jim’s pulse and took a deeper breath. “Fine. Don’t call. Ju...Don’t.”

“Give her some air.” Jim got his guys to back off. “Luce, are you with me here?” She swayed out and narrowed on him. Let him pat her forehead with the towel. A thumb wiped just under the swell of her bottom lip. Fixed the color that smeared there. Jim’s eyes locked on her, mouth parting. A lazy smile crept upon her expression. Jim’s arm was still firm around the curve of her limp body.

“No one’s ever called me, Luce,” she rasped instead, “if you can believe it.” A scoff caused his own lips to lift. Blue eyes flickering.

“No one’s ever gone into hypoglycemia in my station.” He’s countered.

“Usually wait till I clock out.” She gripped at him and stole the towel to look at her dress, splotched in dark spots. “Aw, shit.” The word puffed so soft, he barely heard it. Never heard her curse. Lucy seemed to realize it. “Sorry.”

“No, I...” Jim felt her fingers slip from him. Stared down at his hand before he offered her the Coke. Lucy pressed her lips at him but took it without argument for another drink. The towel rubbed against the wet spots, almost pathetically. He picked up on her growing discomfort. “I can drive you home or something. You want to change.”

Lucy was still scrubbing herself with an annoyed look, slowing to glance up with pink cheeks. Every officer who was staring snapped away from them.

She frowned.

Anything to get away from those eyes peering as if she were helpless.

“Fine.” The sour note struck Jim so he didn’t immediately pull her up. Let Lucy push herself to stumble into him. “I’m fine.” Jim’s hand neared her back, but didn’t make contact. Just carefully ushered her to reception to grab her purse. Still lightheaded, she slowed again and sighed. Took his offered arm. They got to his car and the sun blared. AC blasted when he started up to go.

“Where’s home?”

A beat.

“Left up there.” Came the quieter reply. “I live on Elm.”

“Sure you’re-”

“Listen,” she cut in, “that doesn’t happen… I mean, it does, but not that bad like it did. Haven’t had an episode like that in a few months actually.” Fingers fussed to get her hair back into place.

“Well,” Jim swallowed and tried to be lighter, “good thing you’re in a station full of Hawkins’ most observant police officers.”

His sincere way of making her feel not helpless scorched.

“Oh, are those their titles? All the napping and poker games between calls instead of finishing reports I have to beat out of them.” A brow raised, purse clutched close to her chest.

“Wouldn’t fit on the badge.”

“Ah.” Lucy turned her head to look outside with a smile. Hesitated. “Thanks, Jim. For, uh...”

“Don’t mention it.” He gripped the wheel to turn.

“The slapping at you and anger is, uh, part of it.” She offered mutely. “Get confused in the shuffle and...it’s scary. I never want to feel that damn helpless. Stupid fits. All because one organ is broken and that organ dictates the rest of them. Feed it insulin, too much kills. Feed it sugar to balance, too much kills. Big joke if you ask me, can’t make up its mind.” Lucy didn’t chuckle that time. Didn’t smile.

“We’ll keep the fridge stocked. Soda. Juice. Whatever you like to balance.” He said. Turning to see her eyes lift. “You don’t have to go hiding in that ratty bathroom to test yourself or take shots, you know. Desk is fine. Not like the boys will get queasy.”

“Bunch of tough guys.” She licked her lips, pulling a mirror down to wipe smeared eye makeup away. “Won’t happen again... This is me up here.” She pointed to a house.

“Don’t promise that, just take care of yourself and we’ll pay attention to whatever signals you put out.” He parked.

“Oh,” Lucy faced him with searing eyes again, “where you not before, Jim?” A hum vibrated her throat. Shy and still going in for the kill. Jim’s breath caught and she looked truly amused, batting those insufferable, dewy eyes before getting out.

“Lucy.” Jim stilled. A long, luxurious beat between them. A warm bubble bath to sink into. Neither succumbed long enough.

“Yes, Jim?”

Nerves plucked.

“Sorry, about the dress.”

“I didn’t like it that much.” She smiled fuller at him, too soft about it.

The door shut.

#Jim hopper #Jim hopper x oc #Hopper x oc #Jim hopper fanfiction #stranger things #jim hopper imagine #Jim hopper fanfic #I'm diabetic and thankfully in an advanced time but it's scary #mine #writing #LFTM #Lucy Garland #Lucy

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cruecifymesixx · 5 years

Text

Love and Leather /part twenty two/

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I have nothing to say for this one? Kinda soft Nikki? but not really cause he’s a shithead. Also Vanity kinda being more open? Since she’s very closed off?? Enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Warnings: just language, some drug talk

Taglist: @brideofdraculana, @xstarryeyes, @aryssav, @miserablecunt, @electradestiny, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless, @tiranni, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @dillightfulpickle, @baiabouk, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @madsthegroupie, @martabastic, @romanticvengeance, @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill, @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @motlycrue, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @yxzzie420, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch

February ‘85

“You need to take a shower Van, you look gross...and you need to put some medicine on that eye.” I glared up at Tonya, who was standing over me with her her hands on her hips.

“I’m fine.” I lied. Of course I lied, no one understands how depressed and withdrawn I am. “Get up and take a shower. Now!” She yelled, ripping the blanket off of me, “Damnit Tonya! Leave me alone!” I yelled, getting off the couch and grabbing the blanket back, but to no avail as she quickly took it away again.

“No! I’m not letting you sit around here and mope! You have work tonight, you need to get cleaned up.” She said, as I plopped back down on the couch, “Do you wanna talk about it?” She asked me, causing me to shoot another glare at her. “Alright fine. We don’t have to talk, but please take a shower, eat something too. I haven’t seen you eat anything since yesterday morning.” She said and I sighed, contemplating if I should tell her to fuck off and let me be. Interrupting my train of thought, the doorbell rang. I took it as my way to get out of the confrontation.

“I’ll get it.” I told her as I walked through the hall and to the front door & opening it, then quickly slamming it again.

Nikki was on the other side, “Doll, just hear me out, please!” I leaned against the door and faced Tonya, “Get him out of here, now.” I grumbled, walking away from the door, Tonya quickly replacing my spot in front of the white door, quickly opening it.

“Come on in Sixx!” Tonya said cheerfully making me stop dead in my tracks. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her cause she’s being a bitch!” Tonya shouted, “Yeah, what the fuck ever, Ton.” I spat back at her.

I noticed Nikki was holding a bouquet of red roses in his hands, “Why the fuck do you have those?” I asked him, his lips curling into a small smile. “They’re for you, doll.” He moved his hand forward, trying to hand them to me. His smile falters as I don’t move a muscle. “I thought they would make you feel better.” He added on, I smirked and rolled my eyes.

“Make me feel better? Or make you feel better for being an asshole?” I questioned him, I noticed his eyes squint as he watched me. I already knew I was testing his patience.

“I’ll take those.” Tonya said, taking them to the kitchen to probably put them in a vase. “You look like shit.” Nikki commented on my appearance, plopping down on the couch.

“So do you. When was the last time you slept?” I questioned him, “I’m fine.” I rolled my eyes and sat down next to him.

He placed his hand on my thigh, as his finger started drawing shapes on my skin. “I’m sorry doll. I’m sorry he did this to you.” He said, placing his free hand under my chin, examining my face.

My lip was almost healed, purple shades no longer prominent unless someone was up close. But my eye, I can’t get the swelling to go down. I’m pretty sure something is broken underneath, or at the least fractured.

“Why would he even do this to you?” Nikki asked, a look of frustration on his face. I pulled away from his touch.

“It’s something he’s always done! He’s a literal walking piece of shit, Nikki!” I shouted back at him, pulling my knees to my chest as I rested against the arm of the couch facing him.

“He’s done this before?!” Nikki shouted back at me, “and you just let him come back into your life! What the fuck Van! How could you be so dumb! Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning!?” Nikki argued a much valid point.

I shrugged, “I just wanted to help you.” I respond quietly, “I didn’t want anything to happen to the band.” He sighed, taking my hand into his and gently brushing his thumb against it.

“I know you wanted to help, but I also told you not to get involved.” He reminded me, and I nodded

“I just wanted to help, I didn’t know it would lead to all of this.” I painfully mumbled, wiping my tears with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

“What did he even do to you?” He asked, his finger gently rubbing against my cheek, “Now? Or then?” I asked him, “All of it, I want to know now. I’m tired of you hiding things from me.” He demanded.

“He just, i don’t know...we were in love and then the next thing I know I had picture frames thrown at my head and a fist in my face.” I sighed, running my fingers through my oily, unbrushed hair.

“I don’t know why he changed or why he started, but he just did. It would start with small arguments, like I forgot to pick up his dry cleaning or I forgot to pair his dinner with his favorite whiskey. Just tiny insignificant shit like that.” Nikki nods, still in shock. “Well why did you get engaged to him?” I shrugged, “It was before all of that, but it’s strange when he proposed. I just had a gut feeling I shouldn’t say yes, but I did anyways cause I loved him. At the time he was the only guy I’ve ever been with and wanted to be with.” I told him, but he just shook his head in disagreement.

“And then his first major blow up, he punched the wall and threw a bottle of Jack near my head. It shattered behind me, and then after that I mouthed off to him and he smacked me across the face and split my lip open.” I let out a sad laugh at my own misfortune and naivety.

“We had a party to go to for Daddy that weekend, and I had to explain to a whole bunch of rich snobby housewives what happened to my face cause make up still wasn’t enough to cover up the bruising.”

“Why would you stay with him? You really bought his whole ‘I won’t do it again’ monologue?” Nikki questioned, I shrugged yet again.

“I have a soft spot in my heart for egomaniac assholes, that’s why you’re still here.” I joked with him, but he didn’t find it funny as I got an eye roll in return.

“And then uh, what else...oh, he broke my nose by shoving me face first into the wooden stairs of our home because I turned my back to him to walk away cause he was drunk. The bleeding wouldn’t stop afterwards, so he took me to the hospital, and I had to lie in front of the nurses and the doctors as he held my hand so fucking tight. I swore he was gonna break it too.” Nikki looked like he was thinking.

“Is that why your breathing is all fucked up when you sleep? Cause man you sound like you’re fucking suffocating, it’s annoying.” He said, laughing which made me smile, “I had no idea, do I snore too?” I asked him, he shook his head.

“Only when I slipped you smack, you were out like a fucking light, but no, you don’t really snore that much.” I nodded, finding it cute that he payed attention to a minuscule detail like that.

“The only time he let go of my hand that night is when they reset my nose cause I squeezed his hand so hard it turned white.” I said with a giggle.

“And then....” I sighed, “I don’t remember much cause I passed out...I, Uh...god damnit.” I started feeling myself getting choked up, as my voice cracked.

“Just breathe, doll..” Nikki said as he scooted closer and gripped my arm, pulling me to lean into his side as he wrapped an arm around me.

“I was sleeping and he came home drunk, I’ve never seen him drunk like that. He woke me up by ripping the blankets off of me and told me to get the fuck up. He then started going on this tangent that I was cheating on him. I never cheated on him ever, I was faithful to him, I-I did everything for him.” I cleared my throat, and looked up at Nikki.

“He was a hunter, or still is, I don’t know. But he had a knife collection that was in our room on the wall and he grabbed one out of the case and started waving it around the air and around my face.” I watched as Nikki’s eyes widened.

“So I tried leaving, I told him I was gonna go to my parents house for the night, but he wasn’t letting me. He was saying ‘oh you’re just saying that, you’re just gonna go fuck that guy right?’ And ‘you’re not ever leaving me, if I can’t have you no one can’ and so on.”

I paused for a moment, “And then he literally started chasing me around the house, and our house was pretty big. I was in my underwear trying to get out of the house but all the fucking doors were locked and it was done with a code, and I couldn’t remember the code because he always did it before we went to bed.”

“Did he fucking stab you?” Nikki shouted, throwing his arm off of me and standing up. I sighed and stood up with him. I turned my back to him and pulled up my shirt.

“He almost severed my spine, mere inches from it, I had to go through four hours of surgery.” I explained while pulling my shirt back down.

“I’ve looked at that scar every single time. Every time I’ve seen you naked or getting dressed, wondering how you got it, and that fucking prick did it, I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Nikki said, walking over to my landline.

“What are you doing?” I asked, following him, “I’m calling Doc, and asking where the fuck this fucker is staying.” Nikki retorted, punching in numbers, but I quickly grabbed the phone and hung it back up on receiver.

“You’re not doing anything! Tommy was right, I’ve been through enough with him, I don’t need anymore shit to happen, please?” I batted my eyelashes at him, making him groan. He examined the fear in my eyes, his body relaxing after a moment.

“Fine, but next time I see him...I’m going to fuck him up.” Nikki growled, I nodded in agreement.

“Now, stop being emotional, stop sitting around and go take a shower. And be nice to your fucking roommates, they’re just trying to be there for you.” He ordered, and I rolled my eyes.

“Fine.” I said, forcing myself off the couch but I felt him follow me up the stairs, “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked him, as we walked into my room.

“I thought you’d want some company....” He trailed off, giving me an award winning smile that made my stomach do summersaults, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easily.

“Oh no, you fucked up, you laughed when you saw my face...plus you’ve been a huge dick lately.” I told him, he seemed rather surprised.

“I said I was sorry.” He shrugged and sat down on my bed, “Do you even know what that word means, Nikki? You seem to say it a lot but you keep repeating your actions.” I retorted.

“What were you even on last weekend? I’ve never seen you that fucked up before.” I asked mildly concerned.

He sighed, looking at everything but me. “It was just coke, I wasn’t feeling well either.” He was quiet, I knew he was hoping I would buy into his lie. I knew he was lying as he shifted uncomfortably and twiddled with his thumbs.

“Okay.” I stated, then walked into the bathroom and took a shower.

Nikki’s POV

I groaned, laying back onto her bed the moment she closed the door, letting out a puff of air i’ve been holding in. The seconds felt like hours when she asked me. I can’t stand the look on her face when she knows I’m lying to her.

I’m trying to wean myself off the junk, so far so good. But anytime my dealer calls or stops by my house, I always cave to my craving for the high.

I just don’t want to worry her, the boys know I’ve found a new liking in heroin, but it’s Vanity that pops into my head when I get high...I knew she would flip out if she ever found out what I was up too, and probably leave.

The coke, the booze, the pot and acid, they don’t do anything for me anymore. They’re all just love affairs...but heroin, I’m absolutely in love with her, she makes it so hard for me to leave her.

Maybe I should give my dealer a call. And then maybe I should get some food for Vanity, I know she likes Chinese.

I left her room, walking down the stairs and peering over the banister to see if Tonya was around, but luckily she wasn’t.

I picked up the phone and called my dealer.

“Hey, man...it’s Nikki. Could you make a house call?” I asked, waiting for his answer of how much I’d want. “Uh, same as last time..just a few eight balls...could you also stop and get some Chinese food? My girl is hungry.” He started yelling about how he had to go out of his way.

“I’m about to give you my fucking money, just fucking do this one thing for me, alright?” I growled quietly, he finally gave in. What a fucking asshole. I’m practically giving him and his bitch the lifestyle they want with my money.

I gave him Vanitys address, “Yeah man, thanks see you in a little bit.” I hung up the phone, “Who was that?” I practically jumped out of my boots, turning around to see a dripping wet Vanity in a towel.

“I Uh, I ordered some food for us.” I told her, “Oh, well thanks.” She said, walking past me to the washer and dryer and pulling out clothes.

“Did you hear that phone call?” I asked, scared that she may have heard me. “No? God you’re fucking weird.” She replied, I noticed she had bruises on her arms from that fucking punk. Her eyes meeting mine, her face slightly dropping as she follows where mine are looking. She quickly turns around, putting an oversized shirt on and dropping the towel.

“Did it happen after I left?” I asked her, she nodded without turning around, “Yeah, he was kissing me and grabbed my tits, but I pushed him off of me and that’s when he lost his cool.” She explained,

“He fucking kissed you?” I spat at her angrily. I was more pissed that this stupid prick put his fucking lips on her, but that should’ve been the least of my worries. The thought of another man touching her the way I do, is just enough anger to set me off.

She didn’t say anything in return. “What did you order?” She asked me, “Huh?” I was confused, thinking only of him forcing himself on her, “The food Nikki..what did you get?” She reminded me, “Oh...uh some Chinese food.” I told her, she just nodded.

“Do you want some blow?” I asked, not really knowing how to make her feel better. “I’m fine.” She said with no emotion as she plopped back down on the couch, blankly staring at the tv.

“Well, What can I do to make you better?” I asked, awkwardly sitting down next to her, still getting no response from her. “Hello? Anyone home?” I said waving my hand in front of her face, but even that didn’t get a response.

The silence was deafening to me, I couldn’t stand it. I hated that she wasn’t her usual bubbly, down to earth self. Maybe I could fuck this attitude out of her?

“Let’s go upstairs..” I said placing a kiss on the side of her head, “before the food gets here.” I whispered in her ear, trailing my mouth down to her neck, giving her a kiss. But still, she wasn’t budging.

“I wanna hear those pretty noises that come out of you.” I said, putting my hand on her bare thigh and slowly creeping my fingers up, but she stopped me, “No.” I sighed and moved away from her, pouting like an upset child.

I really needed my guy to hurry up and fucking get here.

“Oh good, you showered!” Tonya chirped as she came down the stairs, “Yeah, so leave me alone.” Vanity snapped at her, “Quit being a brat, should I tell Francisco you’re not coming to work again?” Tonya asked, probably getting ready to leave since she was in her work uniform, “I’ll be there tomorrow.” Vanity replied. Tonya stood there with her hands on her hip, almost like a disapproving mother.

“What? I’ll go tomorrow! My face is still fucked up I’m not leaving this house until it’s better, I look ugly.” Vanity said, “Shut up, you look beautiful as always.” I butted in, receiving a small smile from her, as she put her hand on the side of my face, “Thank you.” She said, then there was a knock on the door.

“I got it.” Tonya said, and I quickly jumped up, pushing past her, “I got it!” I shouted while quickly opening the door.

“Oh hey man...here’s the junk...and the food.” My dealer spoke, but I sent him a death glare, “Shut up.” I said as I frantically searched my pants and jacket for my wallet, only feeling empty pockets.

“Fuck, I don’t know where my wallet is. I think I left it at home.” I told him, “How much is it?” Vanity asked, popping up behind me, “What?” My dealer, Jason spoke up, “The food? How much is it...I got it Sixx.” She said, giving me a smile, “Okay.” Was all I could choke out, my heart felt as if it was gonna burst out of my chest.

“Oh right, twenty even.” Jason responded. A wave of relief rushing over me as he played along Vanity handed him the bill and then took the bag, “Thanks.” She said and walked away,

“Come by my place later...where is it?” I asked him, “Its in the bag with the food.” My eyes almost popped out of my head. I quickly slammed the door in his face. I walked in to the kitchen and the bag of food was right next to her as she was going through it.

“He was weird.” Vanity said as she turned around holding a container of chow mein, stuffing her face, “Hey don’t eat it all, I gotta eat too.” I said, grabbing the bag from the counter and taking it to the living room.

I went through the bag, and found my baggie of a few eight balls. I sighed in relief, knowing it would hold me over for a few days, I quickly shoved them into my pocket.

“Actually Doll, you can eat...I’m gonna head out.” I told her while standing up and facing her.

“Oh...will you come back?” She asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Probably not...we’re working on a new album for when Vince gets out...I’m calling it Theater of Pain.” I told her, but I just wanted to get home and slam a needle into my arm.

“Okay, well thanks for coming over. And thank you for the flowers...they’re nice.” She said, touching the petals of a rose.

“You’re welcome, Princess. I’m glad you liked them...I’ll see you in a few days.” I told her as I grabbed her hand, placing it behind my neck. She nodded, taking another bite of the food.

I gave her a kiss on the forehead, but then she pointed at her lips. I groaned, “Not after you’re eating all that.” I joked, making her roll her eyes.

“You taste like whiskey and cigarettes all the time, yet I don’t complain.” She had a valid point. “Alright, fair enough.” I said then placed a kiss on her lips. Her lips made me want to stay for more but I needed to get back to my house.

“Stay with me.” She said into the kiss, I sighed and pulled away from her. “He’s still in jail, it can wait.” She added on while attaching her lips onto mine.

“I gotta go Vanity, I’m sorry.” I broke the kiss once more causing a dissatisfied moan to come from her. “I just...I gotta work.” I said, as she finally nodded in understandment, “Okay, I’ll see you later.” She replied, I gave her a kiss on the cheek before walking out the door, fumbling with the baggie of heroin that was in my jacket pocket.

#the dirt #nikki sixx #douglas booth #motley crue #the dirt fanfic #the dirt imagine #nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx imagine #douglas booth fanfic #douglas booth!nikki sixx #nikki sixx x o/c #motley crue fanfic #motley crue imagine #1980s #rock n roll #glam rock #My writing #my ideas #fanfic

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cloudteawrites · 3 years

Text

chapter: three ( 2.9k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

You did what any sane person would do upon finding one of the world’s deadliest predators making itself at home in their living room: you made unbroken eye contact with it for a solid five seconds before backing out of the penthouse and quietly closing the door. You stand in the hallway, staring at your hand still wrapped around the handle, unable to move. “No,” you mutter softly. “That can’t be right...” You punch the code in again and peak your head inside. The tiger is still there, staring straight at you. It makes a noise and you slam the door shut. You weren’t hallucinating, you weren’t dreaming. There was definitely a tiger on your couch. “What the fuuuuuck… ” You mutter, pulling your phone from your jacket pocket and punching in Mr. Seo’s number as fast as your thumbs will let you. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-”

The phone rings once, three times, seven. There’s no answer. You groan and try not to think of this as the universe punishing you for being late. You hang up and send him a text instead, imploring him to call you back as soon as possible.

You press your back flat against the door and slide down it, sitting with your legs splayed out in front of you. There was a tiger in the penthouse. There was a tiger in the penthouse. You drag your hands down your face, replaying all your conversations with Mr. Seo and all the documents you’d read. There’d been nothing about pets in the asset manifest. You knew; you’d checked three times. You weren’t confident in your ability to take care of all of Oliver’s companies much less another living thing. You didn’t even really want to take care of the hybrids, but you’d appeased yourself with the knowledge that it was only temporary. So why there was a tiger in your living room you couldn’t say...Unless-

Your eyes widen. All the purchase order had said was three felines. It’d been you that’d made the assumption they’d be house cats. Not to mention, Mr. Park said the hybrids had been delivered already which meant the big cat sunning itself on the couch was-

Before you can draw the thought to its logical conclusion, the door swings open. You tilt backward, world going askew, but before your head can crack against the marble tile there’s a flurry of movement and someone’s holding it in soft hands.

You see azure eyes, soft lips, a crop of honey blonde hair. You blink up at the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. His mouth melts into a close-lipped smile. “Hello,” His voice is soft and airy, almost musical. “You must be our new owner.”

You wince at the word owner. “Uh, I’m Y/N, yeah.”

He hums in acknowledgement then asks, “Would you like to stand up? The floor must be uncomfortable.”

“Oh!” You’d been so busy staring into his eyes that you’d forgotten he was crouched on the ground, holding your head in his hands. “Yeah, I would. Thanks for catching me.”

He gives you another smile. “Of course,” He purrs.

The man offers you a hand and helps you to your feet. Even when you’re standing, he doesn’t release it. You try to tug your own away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but he holds you fast and laces your fingers together. You balk down at your conjoined hands and shoot him a look of concern, but if the prospect of holding hands with a virtual stranger bothers him, you certainly can’t tell from the serene expression on his face.

Now that you’re standing and you get a better look at him, you can tell that he’s really -almost disconcertingly- good looking. His hair is well groomed and, if the golden spotted ears poking out from it are any indication, naturally blonde. He’s dressed simply, in a loose-fitting cream sweatshirt and matching pants. The logo of breeding company he’d come from was embroidered neatly on the upper left side of it, just above his heart. He’s taller than you, but not overly so. You’re at eye-level with the elegant column of his throat. He’s slender, from what you could tell, and he smells nice, like soap and fresh linen. He notices you ogling him and tilts his head to the side, catching your gaze again.

“Is this your first time meeting a hybrid?” He’s still smiling at you calmly and you feel at ease despite the nervous heat you can feel creeping into your cheeks.

You offer him a wincing smile in return. “Is it that obvious?” Despite them being relatively common, you’d only seen them from a distance or when they were standing silent beside their owners while they made a purchase. You’d never had an actual conversation with one. You feel something twine around your calf and you jump, startled. There, wrapped around your leg, was a long, fluffy tail, just as golden and spotted as his ear. Well that , certainly wasn’t a house cat’s tail.

The man laughs at your reaction and it sounds like bells. “It’s okay,” he assures you, tugging you out of the doorway and into the apartment. “I don’t mind the staring.”

You feel a little relieved knowing you hadn’t offended him. Your temporary relaxation evaporates when you catch sight of the tiger again over the hybrid’s right shoulder. In the haze of meeting this one, you’d completely forgotten the one stretched out over the couch. The spotted hybrid notices your gaze shift and squeezes your hand lightly.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes, tail tip twitching against your calf. That was right, you’d heard they could smell chemicals that signaled major shifts in emotion. “That’s Taehyung. He was born wild, so that body is a little more comfortable for him. There’s still a person in there, so you don’t need to worry, okay?”You nod mutely, only moderately comforted by the spotted hybrid’s reassurance. “-And I’m Jimin.”

Jimin. Taehyung. You repeat the names to yourself over and over again in your head.

“-And Yoongi-hyung is around here somewhere.” That was right; there were supposed to be three of them. “He’s probably sleeping; he doesn’t like to be awake during the day time. If you find a bobcat in a closet don’t be surprised, okay?”

You swallow dryly. “No promises.”

The man- Jimin, you remind yourself. His name was Jimin - let out another soft laugh and steps back, untangling his tail from you to turn and face the tiger. “Tae,” he calls. “Come say hello to Y/N.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and you hold your free hand up. “No!” You say, alarmed, as the tiger rises and stretches. It lets a long, barbed tongue loll out of its mouth as it yawns and you feel your blood go cold at the sight of three-inch long incisors. “I-It’s okay; he doesn’t have to get up if he doesn’t want to!” But the tiger has already hopped down from the couch and is sidling toward you. You make a noise of distress and try to tug away from Jimin, but he’s stronger than he looks. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. It doesn’t help.

Taehyung stalks closer and closer until he’s right in front of you. You stand as still as you can manage, trying not to do anything that might set the predator off. Hybrid or not, he could still take a chunk out of you if the mood struck him.

Far away he was big, but up close he’s massive. On all fours, his shaggy head reaches your waist. If you bent forward to wrap your arms around his neck, you’re not sure if they’d even reach all the way. His paws are the width of dinner plates and from nose tip to tail, he has to be at least ten feet long. There’s no doubt that he’s a beautiful animal. Beautiful and terrifying.

For a moment the three of you stand there: Jimin holding your hand, you staring at the tiger and the tiger staring back. Suddenly he leans forward and presses his nose to your stomach, letting out a rumble that makes your whole body vibrate. Your eyes snap toward Jimin, wide. The other hybrid seems completely at ease. If anything, his smile’s gotten even wider.

“He wants you to pet him,” he says by means of explanation.

“Is that okay?” Before Jimin can give you answer, Taehyung presses his muzzle even further into your stomach and huffs. His breath is so warm you can feel it even through your jacket. You let out a puff of air. “Alright…”

You move slowly so you don’t startle him. You set a trembling hand atop the tiger’s head and gently run your fingers through his fur. It’s wirier than you thought it’d be, the hairs coarse against your skin. The tiger lets out another rumble, louder this time and much longer. You snatch your hand back for a moment, startled, and worried he was upset- but he sat back on his haunches, reached out with one massive paw and pressed your hand back against his head.

You let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Emboldened by his apparent approval, you risk scratching behind his ears. The big cat practically melts. If he could purr, you think he would. A hesitant smile creeps on to your lips. “You’re not so bad, huh?” He tilts his head forward to give you better access to his ears.

You feel Jimin’s tail curl around your ankle again, the hybrid apparently pleased to see you getting along so well with his friend. “None of us are,” he hums, taking advantage of your distracted state to brush your conjoined hands against his cheek. “Not when you get to know us.”

“What the hell are you two doing?” A gruff voice at the top of the glass staircase catches your attention. There on the landing is a man in a black sweatsuit identical to Jimin’s. His ash gray hair is a mess, mashed up on one side from sleep and his eyes are squinted against the light seeping in from the oversized windows. A pair of large, tufted ears are turned backward on top of his head and a short tail flicks behind him in irritation. The two other hybrids disentangle themselves from you immediately. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up when the owner got here?”

There’s that word again: owner. You hate how final sounds. In the eyes of the law they may have been your property, but they were still people. You didn’t want them to think of themselves as something you possessed, however brief their stay with you would be.

The black-clad man slumps down the stairs, clearly displeased with the scene before him. Taehyung lowers his head between his shoulders and slinks back to his position on the couch, but Jimin stays by your side, slightly behind your shoulder. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to use you as a shield from his hyung.

Yoongi stops in front of the kitchen, tugs out a bar stool and drops his weight into it. He’s still a good twenty feet away, but Jimin doesn’t look appeased. “You were sleeping, Hyung…” he purrs. “I didn’t want to disturb you-”

“Bullshit,” the bobcat huffs . “You two just wanted to scent like a bunch of cubs and you knew I’d stop you.”

Jimin’s bottom lip pokes out into a pout but he doesn’t deny the accusation.

“...Is scenting bad?”

Yoongi cuts his eyes at you and his stare is so icy, you get the feeling you shouldn’t have spoken at all. His tail lashes behind him.

“It’s not bad,” Jimin soothes, his hand finding your lower back. He rubs circles into it, trying to relax you. “It’s just-”

“It’s rude.” Yoongi cuts him off. “And they know better.”

Jimin wilts and slowly retracts his hand.

Yoongi rakes a hand back through his hair and you catch your first good look at his face. It’s small, his features soft but well articulated. He’s boyishly handsome- or would be if he wasn't fixing you and his junior with a look that could freeze hell over. “Jimin, Taehyung, go upstairs.”

The spotted hybrid behind doesn’t argue, just lets his tail and ears droop as he slumps toward the staircase, the tiger on his heels.”

It’s only once they’ve disappeared around a corner and a door shuts that Yoongi speaks again.”What do you want us for?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Why do you think I want you for something?”

“This isn’t our first time doing this,” he drawls. “You people think just because you can have something, you should . So, you go out and buy exotic hybrids that you can walk around on a gold leash to show off to all of your friends. Or you take us off suppressants so you can take advantage of us. Or you treat us like dolls. You don’t think we’re real. We’re just toys to you, and if you break us? Well, that’s okay because you can always buy another.”

Your mouth feels dry. Was that what his life had been like up until this point? A revolving door of people who only saw him as temporary entertainment and gave him back when he turned out to be more trouble than they thought he was worth? You knew that feeling; were more familiar with it than you’d care to admit or remember. “I’m not like that,” You insist, softly.

“I don’t know what you’re like,” Yoongi scoffs. “And if you’re just gonna send us back in a month, I don’t really care to find out.” An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, his gray gaze still focused to a sharp point in you. “Jimin, Taehyung, they’re young. They still have hope. You’re only Tae’s second owner. You’re Jimin’s third.” A pause, and then, “You’re my eighth. I know how this goes.” He pushes up from the bar stool and stalks back toward the stairs. “I don’t care how you treat me,” he calls back over his shoulder as he retreats back to the second floor. “But don’t get their hopes up by pretending to be something you’re not.”

A door slams and you flinch. You’re alone again

This day was not going how you thought it would. All the videos you’d watched online had shown bright eyes hybrids smiling as they were embraced by their new families, happy to be taken home. None of them had covered what to do if your hybrid didn’t want to be at home and certainly not how to handle an exotic one.

You shuffle over to the living room, toss your backpack onto the floor and step over the back of the couch into the sunken living room . You settle down, cross-legged and pull out your phone.You open up your web app and input your first query.

my hybrid hates me

3.5 million results.

You scroll down, article after article explaining how you should deal with dog hybrids challenging your authority, bunny hybrids thumping because they felt insecure, and cat hybrids knocking things over in a bid to get your attention. You suck your teeth. None of these were going to help you. You tap on the search bar and edit your request.

my exotic hybrid hates me

182 results. Most of them were for porn. You quickly hit the back button.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Let’s try something else.”

what is hybrid scenting

18.6 million results.

The top one is from the International Association of Hybrid Owners and you figure that’s as good a source as any. You tap it and scan the first paragraph.

Hybrids have a sense of smell that is thousands of times more powerful than a human’s. Scent is used to interpret emotions, track food in the wild and identify members of a family group. Juvenile hybrids often gravitate toward familiar smells in order to self-soothe if their parent is not available.

Upon welcoming a new hybrid into your home they may wish to mix their scent with yours in order to signify your new bond or let other hybrids know that you are a member of their family group. If there are multiple hybrids in the home, it is important that the dominant hybrid be allowed to scent you first, then the subordinate hybrid(s) in order of age. If this scenting order is not enforced, it can cause disharmony within the family group and tension between members.

You close the article and set your phone down. Was that why Yoongi was upset? Because Jimin and Taehyung had essentially marked you as a member of their family without his say so and undermined his authority? You flop back against the couch cushions. You were sure that wasn’t the only reason but it certainly didn’t help

You think about the cold look in Yoongi’s eyes, about how eager Jimin and Taehyung had been to get their scent on you, about how tightly Jimin had held onto your hands, like you were going to slip away into smoke at any moment. You drag your hands down over your eyes. Well, one thing was for certain. You certainly couldn’t send them back now.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

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ghostofviperwrites · 4 years

Text

One Word

Requested by: @monstersmaid

Featuring: Evil, Naito, Sanada, Bushi/FC

Category: Smut

Word Count: 3975

Warnings: M/M/M/M/F smut. No slash. Language. Drinking.

23. “I deserve something nice for putting up with you.”

Aya had to hold back her laugh as Manamie, the head of Human Resources, spoke with worry evident in her eyes. One month in and she had called Aya into her office to make sure everything was running smoothly as Los Ingobernables newest personal assistant. At the start of her employment Aya had been warned about these boys, but soon found it all overboard. They were sweet as kittens far as she was concerned.

“No need to worry Manamie. I have these boys eating out of my hand.” Aya said with a cocky grin as she left her office.

Aya didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Flash them a pretty smile, a little flirting and they were putty. All that was needed to keep them in line was a strong confident woman who could play their own game better than them.

“Hi boys,” Aya greeted with a wide smile as she walked in their locker room, making sure she didn’t show any outward reaction to Bushi standing in just a towel or Naito’s naked ass on full display as he ruffled through his duffle bag.

“You ready for your interview Sanada?” Aya asked the quiet man, bringing his attention up from his phone. He stared at her speculatively for a moment and Aya briefly worried that he was going to give her some of the infamous attitude she had been warned about. Instead he nodded and turned to grab his suit jacket.

“What did Manamie want?” Naito asked as he stepped into his trunks.

“Oh she was just surprised I had lasted a month with you guys with no issues. Wanted to make sure everything was running smoothly.” Aya told him. “Nothing important.”

“You’ve lasted a month?” Evil spoke up, his dark eyes focusing on their assistant. “I didn’t realize it had been that long already.” He looked around the room at his brothers.

“One month.” Evil said again his hand raising to stroke the beard on his chin. “Interesting. Maybe Aya deserves something for lasting so long.”

“I deserve something nice for putting up with you.” Aya deadpanned with a grin, the group of them laughing a bit too heartily at her little joke. It wasn’t that funny.

“I’m sure we can come up with something nice for the woman who has us eating out her hand.” Evil said softly.

It wasn’t until she was walking down the hallway with Sanada that it occurred to her that Evil had used the exact phrasing she had used with Manamie. Shaking it off as a coincidence Aya herded Sanada into the car to drive him over to his interview with Tokyo Sports Magazine.

He ignored her for most of the ride as was his usual M.O., nose buried in the phone while she snuck glances at his perfect profile from the driver’s seat. It wasn’t until Aya pulled into a parking space that she noticed his attention focused on her.

“We should celebrate.” Sanada said flashing a smile that stole Aya’s breath. If she had been standing Aya was certain her knees would be weak. She hadn’t been the recipient of that particular smile before and damn if it wasn’t lethal.

“Celebrate?” Aya asked after a moment, not quite sure what they had to celebrate.

“It’s been a long time since someone made it to the one month mark with us.” Sanada said casually as he climbed out of the car. Ava hurriedly locked the car and practically jogged to keep up with his long strides, finally reaching his side. “You should let me take you out tonight.”

Her steps stuttered noticeably, Sanada’s smile shifting into a smirk making her try to mask her stumble by pretending she got a rock in her shoe. Sanada graciously offered his arm for Aya to hold onto while she shook the invisible pebble from her shoe, hanging on a bit too long for a professional relationship.

“Age-ha? 9:00?” He asked flashing that killer smile again that had her readily agreeing with a wide grin that was surely too eager but Aya couldn’t contain it. Not only was she going on a date with the Sanada, but he was taking her to the most exclusive club there was. One that was impossible to get into unless you knew the right people. Aya was practically bouncing throughout the rest of the day feeling on top of the world.

When they made it back to the venue and Sanada gave Aya the rest of the afternoon off to get herself ready, it was icing on the cake. Aya had been worrying whether she had anything that wouldn’t make her stick out like a sore thumb in the upscale atmosphere at Age-Ha and now she had time to go buy a new outfit just for tonight. Something that was going to blow Sanada’s socks off and make him not even look at another woman.

When Aya answered the door later that evening, the way Sanada’s eyes raked over her form when he saw her in the deep purple and gold Prada mini dress was well worth blowing an entire paycheck on it. She would be eating noodles for the next month, but it was money well spent. Besides Aya was hoping this would blossom into more than one date and Sanada could feed her a few times to offset the cost.

Aya smiled adoringly at Sanada as he handed her into the low Lamborghini, his hand lingering on her waist and brushing over her ass as she slid in. He didn’t talk much on the drive which Aya didn’t mind. She was growing used to Sanada’s penchant for quiet. As they drove, Aya reflected on the evening ahead instead of trying to make conversation, working to suppress the giddy giggles that wanted to fill the air as she stared out the lights flashing past the windows.

At Age-Ha

Evil sipped on his scotch as he watched Naito pacing around Sanada’s private room at the club, tugging at the collar of his button down shirt with a frown on every turn.

“I can’t believe you wore one of your ring suits here. Where’s your class Naito?” Bushi scoffed, rolling his eyes to make his thoughts about Naito’s suit choice abundantly clear as he smoothed down the coat of his own Louis Vuitton suit.

“Those are the only suits I have.” Naito argued with a flick of his middle finger in Bushi’s direction. “I hate these places. Gotta wear a fucking suit. Sanada pays enough to this club. We should be able to wear our underwear if we want.”

“Morons.” Evil said with a shake of his head at his two arguing brothers. “You’re in a private room now Naito. Take the shit off if you want. Dress code only applies down on the floor.”

Naito did just that, making quick work of shedding his white suit revealing the tank top and athletic shorts hidden underneath before tossing it aside in a heap. Now that he was comfortable he lay across the lounger after grabbing a bottle from the bucket of ice in the middle of the seating area. He wasn’t a huge fan of the fancy imported beers this place carried, but they didn’t stock the cheap domestics he preferred so he would make do.

Bushi poured himself a glass of wine then moved over to the windows overlooking the dance floor. Bushi wasn’t much of a dancer, but he did enjoy watching the bodies writhing on each other. The upper crusts of society and they reduced themselves to nothing more than panting bodies, no different than those they looked down upon.

“Sanada’s here.” Bushi announced as he spotted their blonde haired friend walk through the entrance with Aya in tow.

Down on the floor Sanada ushered Aya through the crowd towards the stairs that lead to the private quarters. Hand on her hip he guided her up the marble staircase and turned down the hallway leading to his suite.

“Oh,” Aya pulled up short as she stepped inside finding all of her charges scattered throughout the room. “I didn’t realize they were all going to be here.”

“What? Did you think this was a date?” Sanada scoffed leaving her side and joining Bushi near the window to survey the crowd below.

Aya stood hesitantly in the doorway feeling off kilter with the sudden change in plans. Not once had Sanada said anything to lead her to believe this wasn’t a date. She felt a bit foolish for assuming, but wasn’t going to let it ruin her evening. Plastering on a smile Aya moved over to the opulent seating area, sitting perched at the very end of one of the sectionals.

“Aya, don’t be shy.” Naito called from the other end. “Come join us.”

He patted the space between him and Evil expectantly.

Aya pushed aside the nerves bubbling over and stood, walking slowly towards the two men, carefully stepping over Evil’s feet and settling on the edge of the cushion.

A startled cry flew from her lips as Naito grabbed her and pulled her back to sit fully on the couch his arm draped over her shoulders.

“Stop being so uptight,” Naito laughed as Evil leaned forward to pour Aya a glass of wine. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Her questions were cut off as a waitress knocked and quietly entered the room, approaching Sanada for instructions. Aya smiled at Evil as he handed her a glass of red wine, humming in appreciation as she took a sip of the rich liquid.

The waitress made her way over to take their orders followed by Sanada and Bushi who took up the half of the couch Aya had vacated. Only after she left the room and Aya found herself the center of attention did her nerves return.

“This is a pretty dress,” Naito said softly, his index finger slipping under the shoulder strap and stroking her skin. “Did you buy it just to impress Sanada?”

Aya blushed because that was exactly what she had done. Her earlier embarrassment returning as she remembered Sanada’s scoffing words.

“You know Sanada doesn’t date right?” Bushi spoke up. “He just fucks.”

“You would think you had picked that up in the past month." Naito said with a slow shake of his head as he chuckled.

Sanada smirked, leaning back against the couch and sipping at the glass of wine in his hand as he stared at Aya with an unreadable expression.

“Did you think you were special?” Evil asked, his voice low and deep forcing Aya to strain to hear him, leaning slightly in his direction. “The girl who has LIJ eating out of the palm of her hand? Did you think you could tame him?”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Aya asked. “I never said that.”

Evil’s countenance shifted, his thick lips curving into a sneer and fingers clenching as he glared at her.

“Don’t lie to me.” Evil snapped. “You think Manamie was going to keep your little secret? That she wouldn’t let me know exactly what you said in that meeting? Manamie answers to me.”

Aya jumped as Naito’s arm tightened around her and pulled her closer to his side. Naito’s fingers danced tantalizingly up her arms leaving goosebumps in their wake leaving Aya struggling to focus amid the feelings that were getting awoken by Naito’s soft touch.

“Don’t be mean Evil,” Naito chastised him grinning as the stiffness in Aya’s shoulders minutely retreated. “Aya was just running her mouth. She didn’t mean it. Did you Aya?” Naito’s hand came up to rest on the crook of her neck, his thumb stroking over the soft skin in a soothing motion.

“No. I didn’t mean it,” She implored Evil to believe her with wide eyes. Having the intimidating man angry at her was not a situation she wanted to court. “I was just trying to make myself look good. I mean, she is my boss.”

“I’m your boss first.” Evil sniffed but he leaned back seemingly relaxing which calmed Aya’s nerves considerably now that he seemed less angry.

Aya let herself be held against Naito, relaxing into his hold. He wasn’t the man whose arms she had thought she would be in tonight, but Naito was far from a disappointment. Plus he really seemed to appreciate her dress given the way his hands kept flitting over it. Given that Sanada had barely paid her any mind since they had arrived this was probably an upgrade all around.

Food was delivered and the drinks flowed, conversation passing around Aya as she nibbled at the decadent food, eyes closing in pleasure as flavors exploded in her mouth. Naito stayed in constant contact with her body, his fingers leaving a trail of desire in their wake as the danced along her skin, skipping from her arms to her face and down to her thighs never lingering in any area for long and making her fidget as he left her wanting.

“Were you planning to get fucked tonight Aya?” Evil’s blunt inquiry startled Aya out of her pleasant haze, her dark eyes flying to his face.

“I’m not going to answer that,” She said with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “It’s none of your business.”

Naito shifted wrapping an arm around Aya’s waist and pulling her onto his lap, his hand dipping down to slide along her calf and up her thigh.

“Freshly shaven legs,” Naito confirmed as Aya wriggled in his grip, her face turning beet red under their scrutiny. “Now if you’re wearing some sexy panties then we know you were going to spread your legs for Sanada.”

Aya looked over at Sanada who was watching the interaction with amusement clear on his face.

“Let me go Naito.” Aya ordered. “What I’m wearing doesn’t confirm anything.”

“So you are wearing sexy panties.” Bushi affirmed. “No way you put those on not thinking about Sanada’s dick.”

“Yet there she is letting Naito paw all over her.” Sanada pointed out. “How quickly her affections shifted.”

“You’re the one who said this wasn’t a date.” Aya argued. “And you’ve ignored me since we got here. I’m supposed to sit around waiting for you?”

Sanada chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass as he stared at her until she squirmed uncomfortably.

“I don’t have to pay attention to you.” He said confidently. “All I have to do is say the word and your lips will be around my dick.”

Aya scoffed rolling her eyes at the arrogant man, her attention focused on Sanada and barely noticing Naito pushing the straps of her dress down her arms.

“I don’t care what word you say. My lips won’t be anywhere near your dick.” Aya sneered feeling infuriated as Sanada simply shrugged clearly not believing her.

Naito’s lips on her neck brought Aya’s attention back to him and Aya smiled smugly at Sanada as she leaned into his touch. Naito sucked deeply on the flesh of her throat, his tongue pressing into the skin while his hands continued pushing down her dress.

“Naito!” Aya chastised her arms flying to her chest when she realized how low he had pulled it, her nipples barely concealed. One more tug and she would have been spilling out of her top.

“Shhh, baby.” Naito murmured kissing her neck. “Let me make you feel good.” Aya’s protests were swallowed by a gasp as Naito bit her neck and his hands moved to her breasts. Pushing aside her hands he squeezed them tightly, his fingers finding her pebbled nipples and giving them a firm pinch.

“Don’t you want to show Sanada what he’s not going to touch?” Naito cajoled. “Make him stare at you, wishing he could have you? You want to show him what he’s missing out on don’t you?”

In Aya’s head somehow Naito’s words made sense, her pride rankled at Sanada thinking he could treat her like garbage and still fuck her. She could show him what he wouldn’t get to touch. Sensing her capitulation Naito grinned behind her yanking down her dress and baring her tits to the room.

She felt smug as the center of attention, her eyes focusing on Sanada with a tilt of her chin. She grew frustrated when he didn’t seem overly enamored of her charms. She wanted him to stare at her with lust, to beg her to fuck him. Throwing her head back against Naito’s shoulder Aya moaned loudly as he pinched her nipples, pulling them with a tight grip as he mauled her neck.

Another pair of hands on her knees had her eyes flowing up, looking down at Evil kneeling on the floor and pushing her legs apart with ease.

“Don’t fight him,” Naito’s voice in her ear had Aya’s attention diverted. “Just think how jealous Sanada is going to get when you let Evil touch you too.”

Her mind was yelling at her to put a stop to this, but her stubborn pride was finding logic in Naito’s argument. Pushing her misgivings aside Aya allowed Evil to kneel between her thighs, his hands pushing her dress up her legs until it was bunched at her waist. The obscenely expensive silk panties she had bought just for tonight were ripped from her and thrown aside without care, Aya’s protests lost in Naito’s mouth as he jerked her chin around to kiss her.

Evil’s fingers found her soaking heat, two thick long digits pressing inside her making Aya moan as they curled deep within her pussy. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Evil as he pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt, his dark eyes locked on her face as she panted under his ministrations. The sight of the intimidating dominant man on his knees before her was too much for Aya and with a strangled cry she came around his fingers.

With a half-smile Evil pulled his fingers free and grabbed Aya by the hips yanking her body to his. Naito shuffled to his feet, dropping his shorts to the floor and sitting back down as Evil flipped Aya around and pushed her head towards Naito’s cock. Naito had her lips wrapped around him in quick order as Evil pushed Aya up onto the couch so she was kneeling in front of his face, her pussy spread open for everyone to see. Lowering his face to her folds Evil swiped his tongue along her slit making Aya shudder as she swallowed Naito’s cock.

Grabbing her hips Evil held her in place as he worked her cunt with his mouth and tongue making Aya whimper around Naito as he guided her head along his dick. She cried out as Evil’s lips attached to her clit and sucked hard his tongue pushing at her clit, hands holding her firm so she couldn’t squirm away as pleasure roared through her. Naito kept his hand firmly on her head, keeping her sucking on his cock as Evil’s mouth tormented her.

With a sharp bite to her pulsing clit Evil removed his mouth, swiping his tongue through her folds and making Aya orgasm once again. Pulling her off his cock Naito swung Aya around to face Evil who climbed to his feet, hand searching for his buckle and freeing his cock. Aya gaped at the thickness pressed against her lips, wondering how she was going to fit it in her mouth. She wasn’t given much time to wonder as Naito pulled her back to sit on his cock, sinking himself into her dripping heat as Evil stepped forward and pressed his cock past her lips. Aya gagged around him as the weight of his dick pressed her tongue down Evil rocking his hips to burying himself into the back of her throat.

Eyes watering she breathed through her nose and tried to relax around him as Evil set the pace he wanted his movements in contrast to the thrusting motions of Naito below her.

Bushi appeared to the side of her, his cock in hand and without thinking Aya reached for it, wrapping around the length, barely able to get her hand around him. She had heard that Bushi was packing a huge member, and she was experiencing it firsthand. Briefly her mind wandered to Sanada, her view blocked by Evil’s thick body and she wondered whether he was enjoying watching them use her. If he was aching to join in just yet.

Naito’s thrusts turned erratic, his hands tightening on her ass snapping at Evil to give him her mouth. Evil pulled free, letting Naito yank her head back around once again and shoving his cock in her mouth. Pulling at her hips Evil lined himself with her hole and thrust to the hilt while Naito moved out of the way for Bushi to settle on the couch. Naito pulled on his shorts and grabbed another beer, laying out on the lounger again as he watched the two men take their turns with Aya.

Evil fucked her hard and deep, his nails raking down her back making Aya cry out with every pass around Bushi’s cock. Bushi reached beneath Aya’s body and played with her tits his fingers pulling at her nipples, twisting and teasing them into hardened pebbles as she bobbed along his length, struggling to get it all into her mouth.

Pulling free of her pussy Evil sat down on the couch and pulled Aya’s mouth to his cock, her hand automatically reaching to stroke Bushi, her movements stuttering as she finally got a glimpse of Sanada. Only he wasn’t panting after her like she had hoped. No, his attention was focused solely on the pretty waitress he had bent over the back of the couch, his cock buried deep inside her, his back facing Aya.

She was caught off guard when Evil spurted into her throat, choking around his seed and coughing sending it splattering back over his stomach and dick.

Furious Evil grabbed her hair and twisted it around his fist and pushed her head back to his lap.

“Clean it.” He ordered holding her in place until every drop was licked off his body. Only then did he push her back to Bushi who had her straddling his cock in no time, grinning as Aya winced as his cock stretched her already sore pussy.

Bushi brought her mouth to his, tongue pushing past her lips as Aya got comfortable and began moving her body on his, sliding along his length as Bushi’s fingers played with her clit. His mask felt strangely erotic against her face, and Aya moaned as she stroked his tongue with hers, mind racing as she imagined what this mysterious man looked like beneath his mask. Bushi kept the pressure on her clit, rubbing her raw as she chased another orgasm, crying out and clamping around his cock as she came for the third time barely coming down before Bushi pushed her down on her knees and the tip of his cock just past her lips before he coated her tongue.

Breathing heavily Aya turned on her knees catching view of Sanada once again and watching as he pulled out of the waitress and dismissed her with a sharp command. The waitress pulled down her skirt and scurried from the room leaving Aya alone with the men again.

She stared at Sanada with wide eyes focused on his hand that was stroking his cock still glistening with the waitresses’s juices. Her endorphins were singing inside her, body pulsing from the pleasure it had received thus far and she was hungry for more.

“Suck.” He ordered Aya. Without a second thought she scurried over to him on all fours, kneeling in front of Sanada and opening her mouth, taking his cock in her mouth and sucking him deeply.

“See?” He told Aya as she bobbed along his cock. “One word is all I takes.”

#lij fanfic #lij imagine #njpw fanfic #wrestling fanfic #los ingobernables de japon fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

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juliesoutsourcingblog · 4 years

Text

DIGITAL MARKETING 101; CREATING CONTENT TO ENSNARE THE MILLENNIAL HEART

Content is everything.

Content is king.

As digital marketers, we’ve read this proclamation so many times it’s burned in our brains. It’s been said over and over and over- so much that when I see the word “content”, it’s the first thing that comes to my mind. And it certainly is true.

Content still is, and would almost certainly always be, king.

It’s the heart and soul of every campaign. It’s the building blocks where we build our social media following. It’s the magnet that attracts behind every advertisement. It sends our narrative, our story, our message across to our target audience.

It builds credibility.

It establishes authority.

It attracts- which, I think, is its most basic, yet most important function for those of us who use it primarily for marketing.

Now the question arises.

Who do we want to attract?

Of course it’d be nice to think that we could write a piece that would engage and attract the attention of every group and denomination. But we have to be realistic and set our goals accordingly. Every time we create content, just as we always think about the quality of the article, or the infographic, or the podcast that we are creating, we should also be keeping in mind the people who we want to be on the receiving end of our finished product.

For me, those people more-often-than-not, turn out to be millennials. Which then, brings us to the title of this article:

DIGITAL MARKETING 101; CREATING CONTENT TO ENSNARE THE MILLENNIAL HEART

When we think about millennials, most of us often scrunch up our noses and think, pumpkin spice latte, twitter rage, trophies, student debts, entitlement etc. Which is a bunch of harmful stereotypes that does not exactly promote generational unity, but let’s not talk about that.

Instead, let’s define the term: Millennial.

Contrary to popular belief, millennials are not teenagers. Millennials are young adults, whose age range typically fall between 18-35 years, sometimes older (different groups have different opinions on the exact range). To clear any misconceptions, here is the general agreed upon birth years for different generations:

And according to Pew Research Center analysis of U.S. Census Bureau data, Millennials are actually the largest generation in the U.S labor force.

Which is good news for me, and other digital marketers and content creators whose target audience are millennials, for the most part. Because it means that the people we are writing for are earning money. It sounds mercenary, but again- let’s be real here. The main reason why we do content marketing is to attract customers. Prospective clients.

Buyers.

Since the mediums wherein most content creators like me disseminate our pieces are found in the internet, it’s also important to know just how much of our intended audience actually have access in it.

Statista, a site that publishes statistical analysis of facts and figures recently released the following:

SHARE OF ADULTS IN THE UNITED STATES WHO USE THE INTERNET IN 2019, BY AGE GROUP

“The statistic shows share of internet users in the United States in 2019, sorted by age group. During the survey period, it was found that 100 percent of 18 to 29-year olds in the United States were internet users. Overall, 90 percent of the adult U.S. population accessed the internet.”

–STATISTA

The glaring numbers don’t lie. A huge chunk of the majority of the people actually spending time in the internet are- you guessed it- young adults. Again, good news for us, right?

Well, yes.

Also, not entirely.

See, just because they are in the internet, or are in social media, does not mean that they are instantly going to fall heads over heels with our content. Just because I published an article on Tumblr, or posted a link to my blog on Facebook and they happened to see it, does not mean that millennials will automatically start sharing and hitting the like button. There’s always the chance that they might ignore it. Or worse, start hating it so much that I become a victim to the of the prevalent boycott movement, the cancel culture.

Yes, that’s a thing now.

Millennials are like a double-edged sword, so to speak.

There are a lot of pitfalls in making them our target viewers, to be sure. But if there’s one thing that I know from experience, it’s this: the gains and advantages that can be reaped from having millennials as an audience far outweighs the cons.

Having said all that, it’s also very important to remember that this generation is not exactly impossible to please. To capture their attention, there are few things that can be implemented that won’t necessarily cost any money- just a considerable amount of effort from our part.

1. Be conscious of political correctness

Generation Y is a generation of socially conscious individuals. Remember, that these people were raised in a time where equality and awareness are the main advocacies. I am not saying that we need to start turning our backs on our own political beliefs and start catering to theirs- let’s just be mindful enough not trip over sensitive issues in our content unless that is exactly what our purpose is. Let’s try to avoid publishing material that blatantly belittles or discriminates against people because of their race, body type, hair, gender, age, culture, fame (or lack thereof), social status etc. The general rule of the thumb is, to be nice as much as we can, and respect people the way that we want to be respected.

2. Be aware of trends

I’m not talking about eating Tide Pods or mimicking other challenges that are physically harmful. I’m talking about trends in technology, software and social media updates, fashion, clothing lines, restaurants, travel, philanthropic acts and charitable institutions, art, architecture. Of course, we all have our own niche to pay attention to, but with a little bit of effort, there’s an unending number of trending topics out there that are just waiting to be featured no matter what industry we are currently focusing on.

3. Stop sounding like salesperson

In my opinion, this does not just apply to millennials, but to every audience subtype. Stop being so obvious that you are selling something. Instead, tell a story. Make your viewers empathize. Be a friend- someone who actually cares and someone who they can relate to.

Don’t tell them:

Buy my shoes. They have great price compared to other shoes.

Instead, tell them:

I have worked in a corporate office almost all of my adult life, and have always worn heels. I have shed copious amounts of tears from bleeding blisters, and have since learned to always keep a supply of band-aids in my purse and a small first-aid kit in my desk. But what can I do? There’s an office dress code that I apparently agreed to when I signed my contract. I could quit- but then what’d I do for my bills? Should I tell my mother I am unemployed, because I didn’t like my shoes?

That’s when I started to think- why not make my own? Something that I can actually design, something that is comfortable and does not cost a house mortgage.

See where I’m going with this? With more time effort, it’s not impossible to make the part that advertises a certain product or service even more low-key than this. We have to make our selling points part of the natural flow of the narrative. Remember: subtlety is the key.

4. Use millennial buzzwords

Language is dynamic. It’s constantly changing. Time, geographical location, culture, events- these things and more affect the evolution of language so much and with such consistency that it’s almost impossible to determine its original state. As years pass by, people incorporate more and more slangs and new terminologies in their everyday lives.

I won’t say that it’s absolutely necessary to imbue our every article with terms like bop, lit, or salty- just that there are certain terms or “buzzwords” that we can add in our writing that would make us seem more like a peer than a lecturer. It sounds silly, I know, but the goal is to be relatable. Here are some of the words that millennials have been known to use in the past year that could also be used in creating content, within the right context, of course:

Spill the tea

The struggle is real

Trolls

Goals

On fleek

Clap back

Break the internet

Said no one ever

Slay

Adulting

Here’s another advice- we don’t necessarily have to over-stuff our sentences with these buzzwords. Let it flow naturally. The secret is to sound casual, not to overdo the whole thing and end up sounding silly.

5. Inform and educate

The last, but most certainly not the least. The internet, for most of its users, act heavily as a source of information. When people read articles, guides, tutorials, and other types of content, one of the main reasons that they do so, is to learn. But in the event when people are reading for entertainment purposes, it’s still important to make sure that they get to take something out of it.

And even when we end up writing about, say, the dazzling blue waters of a certain Polynesian island, or the breathtaking view atop the Grand Canyon, let’s make sure to inject bits and pieces of interesting facts and advice that would make the reading experience not just fun, but also enriching in a way that would encourage visitors not just to return, but to also share our material to the rest of the digital world.

From the rise to the number of users for the information crowdsourcing site Quora, to the popularity of online entities Mashable, and the types of articles, infographics, quotations, and other forms of shareable materials that young adults are sharing on social media platforms, it is evident that millennials are leaning more and more towards content that contains fascinating information.

It is important to note that most people are heavily motivated by the desire to share something that they think others would also like. For our part, we have to make sure that our products are sufficiently valuable and are interesting enough to warrant their reposts and willing dissemination.

Final words

Always be reminded that in digital and content marketing, researching about the target audience is as important as ensuring that the technical aspects of content creation are on point, and that learning about the trends in the behaviours and opinions of the people we want to send our message to is absolutely vital, because it helps us tailor our content to their tastes and interests.

#contentmarketing #content writing #contentcreator #contentcreation #digitalmarketing #digitalmarketer #blog #blogging #blogger

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lafeae · 5 years

Text

Prompt: Burns

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!

Characters: Kaiba Seto, Jounouchi Katsuya

For: @badthingshappenbingo

Read: From Ch. 1 | Ch. 7 (This part)

The remnants of the charred apartment building were like long, twiggy fingers reaching for the sky.

Kaiba wasn’t surprised that it had burned to the ground. What was surprising was that half the neighbourhood hadn’t been taken with it. Every building in the place had to be built before the last world war and was held together, though only just, by greasy globs of oil and a lot of dedication to DIY work in the form of duck tape and over the top decorations to hide the holes.

Or maybe he was scrutinising the place to much. The poor district of Domino had character, to say the least. It had its own flair, much like its colourful residents. All of whom stared him down as they passed him by. It could have been the car they were staring at. Not everyday a sleek black limousine sat in the middle of their road. Though he was equal parts stranger.

Merely strange, he decided.

This wasn’t his world. These weren’t people who understood. They watched from balconies, blowing smoke and chattering gossip. He had stood for the better part of an hour, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, while staring at a burned down apartment complex. Jounouchi’s apartment complex.

It gave him the reason as to why Jounouchi hadn’t come to school for two days. Of course, he could have asked Yuugi and the rest of the nerd herd, but what good would that do him? Once he asked, they’d give him no peace of mind. Instead, he heard everything he needed to know in bits and pieces: Argument. Fire. Hospital.

Kaiba’s lips thinned. Rain drops pecked on his head. Time to go.

He slipped into the back of the car and stretched out his legs. Standing rigid in place, and mulling over the apartment and what everything meant, had made his calves sore. Beside him, Mokuba sat, thumbs pounding away at a handheld game. The boy quietly cursed under his breath before glancing up at Kaiba.

“You done?” Mokuba asked.

“Yes.”

“So are we going home now?”

Kaiba nodded, and Mokuba launched forward, ordering the driver to go. The car began to trundle out of the neighbourhood.

“What were you doing anyways?” Mokuba asked. The little blips from Mokuba’s game started up again.

“Research.”

“On what?”

“Jounouchi Katsuya.”

“Oh.” Mokuba’s nose curled. He cursed at the game again, prompting Kaiba to rest a hand on his shoulder. He apologised. “Like before?”

“In a way. Though there was no building to go into this time,” Kaiba said.

It went quiet as they drove across town. The temptation to tell the driver to go to Kame Game was there, but quickly squashed. If Jounouchi had been gone for this long, he was likely still in the hospital. Not once had Kaiba recalled Jounouchi missing class despite his deadbeat attitude towards it. Late? Constantly. But no fight or bruise had kept him from class no matter how badly it was smattered across his face.

He knew this was bad. How bad remained to be seen.

“I don’t get it,” Mokuba said once his character died. “Isn’t Jounouchi the one that broke your nose?”

Kaiba nodded. “He is.”

“So...why are you ‘researching’ him, or whatever. Shouldn’t you just leave it to a lawyer or something?”

“I could, but it’s complicated.”

Mokuba snorted. “Why do you care?”

Kaiba leaned against the window and considered the question, all the while drawing his hand to his face. A single finger pressed the tip of his nose, pangs of pain bursting through his cheeks. He saw the mess underneath. He was, no doubt, going to need plastic surgery. He’d already contacted the surgeon, he was just waiting for the school year to end.

This was Jounouchi fault. The pain and suffering. The missed days of class and work. The surgery. Why should he care was a very apt question.

The truth was, he both did and didn’t know. Jounouchi elicited a strange mix of bitter yet comfortable nostalgia combined with a touch of self-righteousness. He saw the way that Jounouchi was, how he kept his head down sometimes, and felt the draw of kinship. Understanding. With Jounouchi of all people...but then, he’d felt that draw since the beginning of their first year of high school. Things were even more complicated back then.

But that didn’t answer Mokuba’s question. Why did he care? It felt multi-faceted. Did Mokuba mean why did he care for Jounouchi’s well-being? Or why did he care for Jounouchi’s existence? Maybe it was why did he care for what Jounouchi did to him in a blind moment of anger? Or was it as simple as: did he just care for Jounouchi, period.

Kaiba sighed. “I don’t know.”

On Friday, Jounouchi still hadn’t returned to class. With a week left in the school year, the chances of him returning were slim. Unless he felt like dragging himself in for exams. Jounouchi never struck him as the type that was overly concerned about high school in general. There were bigger fish to fry, money to be made.

Kaiba could understand that. Deeply so.

That thought made his stomach clench as he stared at Jounouchi’s desk. He wasn’t hiding his glances anymore, either. He was too tired and out of it to hide his expression from his classmates. Though if any of them had paid attention in the three years since he’d started attending Domino High, they would have noticed his fixation.

It was unhealthy. It was unnatural. Anyone would have told him that he shouldn’t be looking at the bleach blond boy who couldn’t go a day without being late or getting a dress code infraction. But from day one, he’d been inexplicably drawn to Jounouchi.

After year one, he concluded it was the bruises.

The bruises painted stories on Jounouchi’s body. Not the ones that he was proud of after socking some thug in the gut. The ones that he poked and prodded until he flinched. Until they bled. Until they stopped hurting.

There was nothing attractive about bruises. Just familiar. Close. Almost warm, in a messed up kind of way. He always watched Jounouchi for those bruises and wanted to ask, but could never find an approach. Kaiba Seto didn’t approach a pleb like Jounouchi Katsuya and ask about bruises. It wasn’t etiquette. They were rivals. Well, Jounouchi thought they were rivals. He was the prick, the weirdo, the bastard. Jounouchi was the idiot, the asshole, the stupid mutt.

Terms of endearment.

Kaiba hated that he cared so damn much. It didn’t make any sense. Mokuba’s question continued to ring in his head. It kept him up at night while he prodded at his nose. Why, why, why? He was confident that having his nose broken by the idiot was grounds for not lusting after him anymore.

Then he thought about the noodles.

The almost sweet taste of the oily broth as it clung to his lips and danced on his tongue. It was kind of terrible, in a good way. It was the blood, sweat, and tears o an apology laced with a sickly bittersweet taste of not enough salt. It hit him right where it should have. Possibly where Jounouchi wanted it to, to make him accept the half-assed apology. That was fine.

Jounouchi’s continued absence wasn’t.

At the end of the school day, as everyone packed up to leave, Kaiba stood and approached Yuugi.

Yuugi smiled. “Oh, hey there, Kaiba-kun. You’re looking better.”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s good,” Yuugi said. He shoved his books into his bag. “What’s up?”

“Where’s Jounouchi?”

There was a still from the group. The friendship girl looked to the ground, and Honda clenched his fists. Of course, none of them would answer. “He’s...he’s at my place. He just got out of the hospital last night.”

“I see.”

“Did you—?” Yuugi began. Kaiba nodded. “Right. I figured you did. Everyone’s sort of talking about it.”

This was getting nowhere fast.

“I need to speak with him,” Kaiba said. There was no point in beating around the bush. No matter how hard his heart pounded.

Honda sneered. “He’s been through enough. He doesn’t need to talk to you.”

“I don’t recall asking you.”

“Oh yeah? Well what’re you gonna do, make fun of him? He doesn’t need your shit right now, you—,”

“Honda-kun!” Yuugi shouted. Honda flinched and looked away. “It’s...it’s alright. I think he’s okay enough to talk. I mean, don’t you? It’s not like this is Kaiba-kun’s fault. Maybe this is something Jou-kun needs. He’s not talking to us, so...maybe this will be good for him. Aren’t you worried?” Yuugi asked.

Honda looked off. “Yeah. A’course I am.”

“And you’re worried too, right?” Yuugi asked, turning to Kaiba.

“I just need to speak with him.”

Though Yuugi said nothing, his face softened at the response. He nodded. “Then let’s go. Maybe we can all study too, if Jou-kun is feeling up to it.”

—

Kaiba offered them a ride to Kame Game, but said nothing the entire ride over. He steeled himself for what he was about to see. What damage was done to Jounouchi this time. It wouldn’t be a black eye, a busted lip, or cut knuckles. Wishful thinking, of course, that Jounouchi had come out unscathed. He hadn’t spent a week in the hospital if he was okay.

Sugoroku greeted them as they walked in. He cased Kaiba with a wary eye, but nodded as they headed upstairs.

The place was small. Even with an air conditioner humming it was humid. Sweat began to prickle on Kaiba’s back.

“That you, Yuug’?”

Slow, gentle footsteps padded from the kitchen. One foot dragging behind the other. A small but subtle pain.

When he looked up, Jounouchi hung at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. What was left, anyways, after life had chewed him up and spit him out. Kaiba didn’t want to look, but he was frozen in place.

There wasn’t a patch of Jounouchi’s tanned skin that was untouched. Most of him was wound tight in gauze: his legs beneath his knees arms up to the sleeves of an oversized t-shirt, and his hands...his wide hands, his calloused hands, his warm hands, were rigidly covered to the fingertips in thick swathes of gauze. What wasn’t covered, like the skin of his thumbs, on his knees, or the bright red splotches on his cheeks masquerading as flush, were the gentlest of the burns.

“Kaib’? The hell ya doin’ here?” Jounouchi asked.

The closer Jounouchi dragged himself, the more Kaiba realised he had more than burns. Burns made sense. There had been nothing left of the apartment. But the yellow-green spots around Jounouchi’s eyes and jaw, and the cut on his cheek said it was more than a freak accident.

“You haven’t been to class.”

“No duh,” Jounouchi snorted. His arms widened, but fell just as fast. Jounouchi winced. “Can’t imagine why.”

Yuugi, Honda, and Anzu slipped through the kitchen and into the living room, with Yuugi mentioning that they’d be nearby if he needed anything. There was a humbleness about Jounouchi when he muttered thanks. Still holding his pride as intact as he could.

“Whaddya want, Kaiba?”

“To talk,” Kaiba said. He looked Jounouchi up and down again, continuing to catalogue his wounds. “You’re wearing he school gym shorts.”

Jounouchi’s face fell. “S’all that I got left. Shirt’s Honda’s.”

“You have yourself.”

“I guess,” Jounouchi agreed. He eased to the dining room table and sat, almost fell, into the chair. “Beats a blank.”

Kaiba sat across from Jounouchi. So submissive. More than just hanging his head quietly in homeroom. He couldn’t hide his eyes this time. His bangs were too singed. He heaved a sigh and leaned forward, moving his weight around so he didn’t use arms or hands. Besides his thumbs, a single pinky on his left hand was uncovered. It curled into his palm.

“Whaddya want?” Jounouchi repeated.

Kaiba opened his mouth and closed it. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s true.”

“I figured it was. Jus’ when ya put it that way,” Jounouchi huffed and shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Talk, Jounouchi,” Kaiba commanded.

“Why?” Jounouchi leaned back, slow and steady, but kept his chin against his chest. “There’s nothin’ t’ talk about. Nothing that would matter to you, at least. I...I don’t...I mean, unless ya wanna hear ‘bout what happened. But I don’t really wanna talk about it right now. I don’t remember it.”

“There’s always something to talk about.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you. I can’t even get ya t’ talk about the weather.”

Kaiba shrugged. “You didn’t ask the right questions.”

“I wasted my time.”

“Oh?”

Jounouchi looked towards the kitchen window. Their classmates were filtering by in waves, running after one another to get to downtown. There was a cram school four blocks away, if Kaiba recalled. But Jounouchi was half-heartedly smiling.

“Yeah. I mean, after everythin’ the most I got outta this was some stupid conversations and a fuckton of confusion, ya know? And to be honest, right now, I ain’t too worried about you or what ya want. What I did. Whatever it is that we’re doing right now, I mean—,” Jounouchi voice was tickled with laughter, “—what the fuck are we doing?”

“Talking.”

Jounouchi’s nose curled. “I meant since we started all this. Since you decided to put your nose where it don’t belong.”

“Compared to the rest of the dweebs, I’m the only one qualified to put my nose anywhere.”

“Lot of good it did ya,” Jounouchi said. He raised his hand and wiped the exposed pinky down the bridge of his nose. The laughter still lingered, and Jounouchi laughed wide and loud. “Look at us. We’re both so fucked up right now. We make a real odd couple, don’t we?”

Kaiba’s lips thinned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do. Weirdo.”

“Heh.”

Kaiba crossed his arms. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was because Jounouchi was so close to him, splayed across the table. His hands weren’t hands, but the pinky was there.

“You came to the house,” Jounouchi said. “Sorry ya had to deal with my old man. He didn’t say anythin’ too gross did he? Sometimes he doesn’t have a filter with strangers.”

“He was curious.”

“What’d he ask?”

“How did I get the address. How did I know you and how long had we known each other. Things of that nature.”

“What’d you say?” Jounouchi asked, his voice quivering.

It only hit Kaiba then that this may have been the cause of the not-accident. His stomach swirled violently and told him that, yes, this was his fault. If he hadn’t decided to go to Jounouchi’s home personally, this may not have happened. But he had to return the shirt and bowl. Jounouchi needed to know that he had accepted the apology, otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to move on.

“Nothing. Your father doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who listens to reason. No matter what I said, he would have taken it any way he wanted to take it.”

Jounouchi’s lips parted. “So he didn’t ask you if we were...homo or whatever?”

“He may have.”

“Did he or didn’t he?” Jounouchi asked, his eyes burning bright. Before Kaiba could reply, he said, “Never mind. I don’t wanna know. Knowing ain’t gonna change what happened. I don’t wanna think about my Pa that way. Ya know he ain’t gonna make it?”

Kaiba stiffened.

It hadn’t occurred to him that the reason that Jounouchi was staying with Yuugi was because his father was dead or dying.

“It’s my fault.”

“I doubt it.”

“It is,” Jounouchi pressed. He raised his hands. “We got in a fight over...us. Me an’ you. Whatever. Before I knew it, the whole place was burnin’ and I’d knocked him out and then didn’t get him out fast enough. He’s a big guy, you saw him.”

The only thing Kaiba focused on were Jounouchi’s hands. Shaking. Thumbs and pinky curling tight. Kaiba looked past Jounouchi’s hands and to his face instead, to his stricken expression and his eyes brimming with tears he tried shaking away.

Jounouchi’s arms fell to the table.

“Keep talking Jounouchi.”

“What about?”

“Anything,” Kaiba said. “Preferably your father.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I wanna say about him. He’s gonna die, school year’s gonna end, and then I’m gonna go an’ live with my mom ‘til I’m okay enough to go and work in some factory. It’s gonna suck movin’ away from here. Her an’ Shizuka live out in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think anyone plays Magic and Wizards out there, so I’m gonna have to get a train pass an’ make sure I come visit everyone. Yuugi especially. If he ain’t too busy with college.

“You’re not taking entrance exams?”

“Hell no. No point.”

“Mm.”

“Are you?” Jounouchi asked.

Kaiba smirked and leaned his cheek against his fist. “No point. I have work to focus on.”

“Yeah. A’course,” Jounouchi said.

A silence fell between them, with Jounouchi occasionally looking up at Kaiba with brows furrowed. His expressions were terse but kind. And now he wasn’t holding onto his pride. It was falling apart piece-by-piece as he stifled back hiccups of tears and wiped his nose on his wrist.

Kaiba reached out and gently cupped his hand, barely touching the gauze. “Don’t.”

“Piss off.”

“You’ll get infected.”

“What do you care?” Jounouchi asked. “Why the hell did ya get involved at all? Why did you give me the salve an’...an’ wash my shirt?”

Jounouchi’s arm was lowered to the table, though it didn’t feel right to let go. He permeated heat like a stove. The pain must have been extraordinary, but Jounouchi held on. Always held on. Always held his head high, even as he fell apart.

“You’re not that stupid.”

“Spell it out for me.”

Kaiba’s eyes half-lidded. He reached out, his fingers dangerously close to the tips of Jounouchi’s. There was no point in being afraid of this, even if his heart was pounding rapid-fire in his chest.

Cicadas clicked through the window.

Kaiba looped his pinky finger around Jounouchi’s. The nail grazed along soft, tender skin on the inside. “You are not alone.”

“No?”

“No. Unlike your friends, I understand what it means to hide. To be ashamed. To be confused.”

The tiniest smile crossed Jounouchi’s face. The bruises, the burns, didn’t look as bad. They could get better. Time healed everything.

Jounouchi’s pinky squeezed back. “Thanks.”

There was no telling how long they sat looking at one another, sharing smiles and trying to talk but coming up short. Something tired and weak came over Jounouchi. Eventually, he slid further in his seat, but no matter how far he slipped, Kaiba didn’t let go of the hold on his pinky. Laughter burst from the living room.

“Ya wanna go study with Yuug’? They’re prolly waitin’ on us,” Jounouchi said. Kaiba groaned. “C’mon.”

“Fine.”

#ygo #yugioh #seto kaiba #fanfic #joey wheeler #jounouchi katsuya #whump #hurt/comfort #badthingshappenbingo #burns #injury

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giggleandtears · 5 years

Text

Home

(John Kennex/OC)

Summary: OC is feeling uneasy after her first fight with John.

A/N: The OC’s name is Veronica Lee. In the fic it is shortened to her nick name, Ronni.

Enjoy!

I trudge to the door and momentarily place my head on the cold steel frame and release an unsteady breath. Keying in my access code, the lock clicks in response and the door slides forward half an inch. Stepping through and shutting the door behind me, I place my duffle by the door and head for the bedroom. Halfway there, John steps out the kitchen, clad in his standard sweats and tank. Turning to him, anger rolls in my stomach then shifts into a gnawing sadness. My fingers strain as I stretch them to their limit, then flutter to release a monochrome of tension.

“I'm gonna grab a shower,” I relay, turning away after John nods in understanding.

I hate how tired I sound. Not tired, but happy to be home or tired but ready to talk. No, just tired. My tone does nothing to ease the apprehension wafting off his shoulders or belay the worry in his furrowed brows.

I peel off my jacket and plop it on the end of the bed. Balancing on one foot, I remove my boots and push them neatly under the bed. Coming around to my side, I unholster my gun and badge before placing it in the bedside table’s drawer. Undressing and stepping into the shower, the water automatically begins to stream in at the perfect temperature and strength. I gulp in a deep breath and use my arm for stability against the tiled wall.

So, we finally had our first fight. It took 8 long months. Longer than both John and Dorian predicted. It wasn’t my intention, but when he walked into the squad room with applause echoing around him, wearing that cocky grin, I lost it. I had enough control to wait until we were alone then every angry, hurt, scared word tumbled from my lips at a speed even I thought was impossible. John was not prepared for the confrontation itself or my ferocity. He in turn got angry and defensive. After going a few rounds, I left him in my office heated and confused. Knowing John, also very, very nervous.

Getting out of the shower, I dry off and dress in my soft undergarments and one of John’s tanks. It’s quickly became my favorite sleep set. Combing my hair and twisting it into a bun, I glance at myself in the defogged mirror. Tears begin to well again and I shake my head to clear them.

Coming into the bedroom, John’s familiar frame sits bent on the edge of the bed, head in hands. I reach for my jacket and cloths to hang up but they’re nowhere in sight. Turning to the closet, they sway minutely on their hangers and a small smile tugs to be set free. Traversing the small distance around the bed, I stand before John. His head cocks slightly to the side, telling me he knows I’m there but what happens next is in my hands. I nestle one leg in between his thighs and place my other knee on the bed. I cradle his still bowed head in my hands and gently kiss the top of his dark crown. John’s damp tresses tickle my nose with his clean scent, his shower taken not long ago. He wraps his hands around my bare thighs and inhales deeply. A measure of peace falls around me as his shoulders slacken. Through our wordless exchange, John knows this isn’t the end. I’m not going anywhere.

“I need you to know that I’m always proud of you,” I begin, partially speaking into his hair. “every...single...day. You’ve saved so many lives. Not just today, but ever since you came back. You're always fighting for what’s right. You're one of the good ones, Kennex. A good cop, but most importantly a good man.” With that, John cranes his neck to look at me, my hands falling loosely around his neck. His face opens with surprise at my impromptu declaration, but confusion still lingers. “But we, I, can’t have a day like today again.”

“Ron...,” He starts.

“Let me finish...please.”

John nods for me to continue, his warm concentrated gaze not straying from my face.

“It’s amazing that we get to work together. I love being your unofficial second partner,” which garners a small smile from John, “and that we get to have each other’s back.” Upon completely the sentence my voice betrays me and cracks. Looking away to the assortment of nick-knacks on the wall, I work to steel the maelstrom of my emotions. John’s grip on my thigh tightens before he begins to run his thumb in soothing circles. Clearing my throat, I press on. “But today, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to lose you and it kills me there was nothing I could do about it.”

“Oh babe,” John says softly, with an infuriating chuckle. “I’m fine, barely got a scratch. No worse for wear. ” His slightly patronizing tone fans the flames of anger I had finally let cool.

“Yes, I’m fully aware,” I continue tersely. Dorian shared his scans with me before I left for home. “But can you honestly say, that you weren’t the least bit reckless today? That your only choice was to go against a direct order and disregard protocol?”

“Ronni I was doing my job. I had to do everything in my power to try and save those people. You saw what we were up against.” John says, exasperation creeping into his tone.

“Of course. I would never ask you not to give your best. I respect the badge, the badge we both wear, too much to ask that. But you didn’t answer my question. Were you, John Kennex, being reckless today?”

“No. I was doing what I had to do to get the job done.”

“Even if that means you don’t come home?”

John’s answer catches in his throat. He knows whatever answer he gives the scales will never tip in his favor. On one hand, I’ll have proved my point and on the other he’ll have a very angry woman on his hands. John’s eyes still remain slightly narrowed in defiance, not completely ready to concede the point.

“Look, you know I’m not talking about protecting the innocent. When we put on that badge, we know there may come a day when we choose their life over ours and we hope we make it out alive. That’s the job. Everyday I’m fighting to get the job done, so I can come home. I want to come home. When you make choices that put yourself in needless danger, it doesn’t feel like that’s your goal. I don’t want a flag on the mantle or your badge in a box I can’t open. That’s not what I signed up for. That’s not the home I want.

“I’m not asking you to be a coward and run from the fight. Our job description is to protect those that can’t protect themselves. That’s risk enough. We don’t need to invite more. I need you to realize it’s not just you anymore. You have someone waiting for you to walk through that door.”

John nods solemnly, finally getting the point.

“Wait, did you call this place your home?”

“Multiple times, yes.” I respond.

John inhales a short staccato breath and releases it before cocking his head to the side. A soft pout of contemplation forms on his lips.

“I haven’t slept at my apartment in 3 months. I thought you would have noticed that.”

John plants his chin on my stomach and smiles that dorky grin of his. Not the know it all, albeit sexy, smirk or his mischievous simper. But the wide beaming smile, dimples and all.

During our first few months together, John would not so subtly ask if I wanted to stay the night. It was usually late into the evening, as I laid my head in his lap after dinner, watching some show or another. My eyes had long since began to droop. John’s fingers lazily massaging my scalp was far better than any sleeping pill. There was no way I could drive home and I would never ask him to drop me off. He needed sleep as much as I did. But that’s beside the point. He may not have been able to see it yet, but there was never a question in my mind where I wanted to be after shift.

A month after that, our routine was set. John would pick up dinner as I got a few things from my place for the next day. It wasn’t until I couldn’t find a single piece of work appropriate clothing in my apartment that I realized I had taken them all to John’s and never bothered to bring any back home. In that moment, looking at the “home” I had created for myself, that word felt like an inept descriptor. This wasn’t home anymore. It didn’t contain the thing, the person, I truly needed.

“Yea I noticed, Sweetheart.” I smile back broadly as John pulls me closer. “And I hear you. I promise to be more careful and not take stupid risks.”

“Thank you,” I answer, a calm washing over me.

“Or at least have Dorian do it.”

“I’m completely on board with that,” I respond quickly without thinking. John’s arches a stunned brow at my admission. He knows I've always had a soft spot for the android. Dorian has been brought back to life more than once. John doesn’t have that luxury. But I still feel a bit guilty. “Please don’t tell him I said that.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, unless he’s learned how to read minds, which wouldn’t surprise me. Then you’re screwed.”

“I think we’ll both be screwed.”

“True, but glad to know I'm higher on your priority list than him. When you two get all buddy-buddy, sometimes I wonder.”

“Shut up, Kennex,” I say with a smile and a swat of his arm. He catches my hand and gently places it behind my back as his arm circles around my waist. Ever so slowly, he pulls me down into a hug. He releases my hand so both arms come to rest around his neck. For what seems like hours, we just hold each other, wrapped in each sensation and the steady rhythm of our breathing.

“I'm sorry for scaring you.” John murmurs into my chest.

“I know. I'm sorry for ripping you a new one earlier.” I reply pulling back.

“It was bound to happen sometime. Will probably happen again.”

“True.”

A playful smirk forms on John’s lips at my unabashed honesty. Leaning forward I wipe it away with a sweet but lingering kiss, almost thankful in nature. We made through this day and through our first real fight. Resting my head against his, I let out a contented sigh.

“So, you hungry?” John asks. “I made noodles”

#john kennex #almost human #karl urban #john kennex x oc #dorian #fanfic #john kennex x reader

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