#waves a pencil around my ear.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

FROM FAR DISTANT WATERS

PAIRING: Merman!John Price x F!Artist!Reader

SYNOPSIS: There’s something in the water - you're going to figure out what it is, and why it chose to save you.

WORDCOUNT: 16.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, murder, death/near death, assault, injury, gore, mystery, mentions of suicide, angst, protective!John, pining, sickness, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The little boat rocks as it slips through the expansive water, a thin hanging of mist in the air. The curtain-like film it leaves makes it nearly impossible to see the dark rocks of the shore a far distance away, and the dip and push of the oars through the chilled waves leaves splashing droplets connecting to your cheeks. You touch the flesh delicately, brushing away the spray as your eyes slide over dark, lapping water—deeper than anything. 

In your lap, sitting below the high waist of your skirt, was your sketchbook; the tweed material was all the rage these days, though you never focused much on that. The thick item kept out the chill of the, very, early morning, and that was all you cared about, though, it seemed you lacked the foresight to pack a proper coat. A large woolen shawl sat over your shoulders, hiding the plain white blouse but not its cuffs; not the slight poof of the bottom part of the sleeves. 

Your numb fingers fiddle with the pencil in your hands, your open sketchbook filled with page after page of images ranging from the common sea-bird to great ships and shorelines. 

“I still have to ask why you feel the need to tag along,” is the voice that breaks the silence, and you blink away from the cloud of condensation from your exhalation. Your ear twitches, but only a small flick of a smile pulls your lips at the older man’s garbled words. “So cold my damn hands are going to fall off. Why am I always the one bloody working the oars?”

Otto Whitworth was a man far into his later years—one who entertained your fascination with the raging waters and the need to immortalize them on paper; that draw to the sights and sounds. Graying, covered now in a large coat and his boots, with the long fishing rod knocking around by your feet, he grumbles more than he speaks sentences, content with only the pipe in his breast pocket and the promise of fresh fish for breakfast. 

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” you chuckle, glancing over at his wrinkled face—the glare of dark eyes set into a deep browline that’s more for show of annoyance than genuine emotion. “Gets the blood pumping harder, Mr. Whitworth.” Your vision slides to the shadows of the black rocks, and your pencil finds your palm before the sound of it meeting parchment echoes over the nothingness. “Isn’t it lovely? Listen to the Gannets.”

“Don’t need my blood pumpin’ harder,” the old man grinds out, scoffing. “Gonna make my fuckin’ heart stop, Girl…” Otto sighs, shaking his head as you chuckle. He growls under his breath. “And, no, I’m not listening to the birds—they’ll be trying to steal my fish soon enough. Greedy bastards.”

Your eyes roll in their sockets, pencil shading in the rough shapes of misty rocks, your face cold but still eager for something. There was a type of magic to this place—to Southern England and the small coast town you had settled in nearly a year ago: Redthorpe. 

It seemed your talent for the arts was appreciated here, you had a shop to your name and friendly compliments from the locals every time the door was pulled open. People here liked the attention to detail in a place where they had most likely lived for a good ninety percent of their lives.

You tilt your head at the paper as Otto lets the oars drop back into the water, grasping for his fishing rod that you kindly move closer with your foot. 

The man takes up the item and sets the line, whipping back the pole and snapping it forward with a wizz and a grunt—a cracking of old bones. 

“Now hush,” Otto sighs, settling back. 

You send a silent look upward, and at the same time as he does, you say out loud in a soft voice.

“You’ll scare away the fish with all that blabber.”

A heavy glare is leveled at you, but you raise a hand innocently and laugh under your breath. 

“I’m as silent as the fish, Mr. Whitworth.”

“Cheeky Bird,” Otto sighs loudly, shifting in his seat until he faces the water, eyes glinting. “You’re too wild for this place, then, eh?”

“For most places,” you breathe, smiling as you study the rocks again before going back to your work. It’s only after there were the wiggling bodies of three fish set into a fisher’s basket that the oars are taken back up and the silent water is again forced back by ripples. 

Pencil finding the middle of the spine, you close your sketchbook, the routine is as simple as it always is. Otto will complain about having you at his dock, he’ll begrudgingly invite you in and cook three fish: one for him, the second for his cat, Harriet—older than England itself and missing most teeth; as blind as a bat—and then, finally, you. After that you’re back in your shop finishing up your piece of the misty shoreline, working until the candle burns through both ends and the oil paints are swirling colors as your eyes bug. Bed, and finally, repeat. 

A splash of water makes you blink quickly, your head jerking over at the slide of movement from the corner of your vision. Eyes wide, you swear a fin had cut the surface of the water like a knife through butter. 

Your body moves closer to the side of the boat immediately, leaning over eagerly. 

“Hey!” Otto barks, steadying himself as the vessel shakes back and forth. Your eyes shimmer, a smile overtaking your lips. “Watch yourself—you’ll send me overboard!”

“Did you see that?” Your eyes dart over the water. “I think I saw a fin.” 

“You got excited over a fish?” The older man’s voice is unimpressed, hissing in the crackling of age. “Hell, I got three in the basket if you’re that bloody impressed.”

“Shh,” you wave one of your hands, unblinking. “It was bigger than a fish, Otto!” 

Your ears twitch to his scoff, his hands grasping the oars harder before he shoves the boat forward. Body looming, the intense pull of adventure dims the longer nothing happens, and after a minute or two of dead mist and water, you hum under your breath like a fool and sit back.

“Lost it,” your numb lips murmur, breath puffing out softly. “Damn.” You shake your head as the wooden dock gets closer, more boats tied and shifting with the waves. “It was strange,” you admit. “Like a deep navy color—with specs of silver along the spine.”

Otto pauses, his hands tight over the oars. He blinks over at you, face for the first time showing an emotion other than annoyance. You barely notice before the sheen of crafted blankness is back. 

You smile down the length of the boat, curiosity plain to see. “Do you know of any animal like that around here?”

“No,” Otto grunts out quickly, and your excitement dims sharply, blinking through shock. 

Your brows furrow after the silence falls stiffly—the boat had never been uncomfortable to you, the atmosphere quiet, of course, but always easy to charter. Now the air was…muddy. Something had changed as fast as a fish being yanked out of water. 

Fingers twitching, you sit back slowly onto the plank, pulling your sketchbook the tiniest bit closer to your abdomen. Face open, Otto continues to row and the entire ride is silent until the boat is docked and tied to the pole by calloused hands. Your digits grasp your shawl and wrap the fabric harder, shifting down to hide your chin into the wool as you shiver. 

“...Need help?” You ask, eyes still shifting back to the water like always. 

There’s something now that makes your attention drift like the waves themselves—and it wasn’t only the shadows of the rise and fall, it was Otto’s strange behavior. The man wasn’t one to just say one word and nothing more. He could bounce off you like it was a game; you often thought he enjoyed your company just so he could insult someone. Jokingly, of course. It was the companionship he craved, it was why he always let you on his boat in the mornings. 

Otto lived alone. You never asked about it. 

“Don’t need any help,” he grumbles out, tying off the last knot to the pole and stepping back with a smirk of satisfaction. “M’not in the grave yet, Girl. Been working the boats since I was out my mum’s womb.”

“Feel sorry for her.” Your mutter meets the air as light streaks through the mist. Breathing hot air into your free hand, you rub it over your arm repeatedly and sigh, fingers of the other limb tightening over your book. Absentmindedly, your head turns back to the open water one last time, for one last glimpse of anything you want to commit to memory while you paint—

The fin is back. 

“Otto!” Feet swiftly dart to the end of the dock, you stop only an inch away as your skirt whips over. “It’s back! Look!” 

A hand grasps your wrist and yanks you away. 

Gasping sharply, you stumble until the harsh bark of, “Get back!” echoes across the dock just as it does through your ears. 

“Whoa!” You’re quickly let go of, a shadow shielding you from the view of the water as you scramble to make sure your sketchbook won’t slip from your hold. Head jerking to stare in shock at the middle of Otto’s curved spine, your heart stutters in confusion and a bit of hesitation befitting one who was just manhandled. Standing up straight again, your tight face pulls in, the pound of your heart telling you something is wrong. 

Glancing past a still frozen Otto, the water is utterly devoid of life again—only ripples to show there had ever really been something there at all. 

“You go back to the ocean,” Otto yells, spittle flying from his mouth, fishing boots stomping against the wood as he moves forward a step, pointing. “Go back to the bloody hole you swam out of! There’s nothing for you here! Nothing!” 

You watch, struck dumb. 

“...Mr. Whitworth?” Your lips mutter out, eyebrows shifting from the waves to the man—utterly confused down to your chilled bones. Who was he talking to?

Perhaps time had caught up to him—was he mistakenly taking the rocks for people? The waves for whispers? All you had seen was a fish’s fin, nothing more, nothing less.

“Otto,” you call again, concerned. You should get the man inside; get him warm and let him cook his breakfast. “Let’s just go.” Your eyes blink lightly, fingers twitching over your book. “Alright…? My eyes must have been playing tricks on me, it’s nothing important.”

His form waddles past you, more in tune to his sea legs than the ones on land, and under his breath, you hear him snarl out a low, “You’ll not take her like you did Eleanor. Mark my words, I’ll be stringing you up by the tail first.” 

Withered hand connecting with your shawl’s edge, you’re dragged back with more force than you’d anticipate Otto still having, but you go with him nonetheless. 

Looking at the water, there’s nothing to see beyond the stretch of nothingness.

—

You dare to ask when you’re pushing the fish bones over to the side of your plate, slipping some mashed-up scraps to Harriet who lays in your lap purring. The rough scrape of a tongue licks your fingers, and deep gray fur caresses your palm.

“Who were you talking to back there?” Your voice carries over the small hut that Otto calls his own, the sounds of the water meeting the rocks plainly heard seeing as his property was as close to the cliffs as you could get without going over them. “I never took you for someone to believe in spirits.” The joke was a small jab, but even your own amusement was dim in the situation. Your hand puts down the fork and moves to rest along Harriet’s back, lightly petting the old cat as her half-missing tail flicks in satisfaction.

The man’s back over at the sink tightens. 

“You watch yourself near the waters, Girl,” Otto grunts, dark eyes glancing over his shoulder. “By God, you watch yourself. There’s things out there—terrible things.” 

“What kinds of ‘terrible things,’ Otto?” Your head tilts, sketchbook resting still on the table, your gaze flickering to it. Terrible had a nice ring to it. But something else was swirling in your gut now, a hesitation of a special sort that only comes out with the unknown paths of life. 

What could make a man born and bred on the waters so reserved when speaking about them? Your interest had been piqued—your curiosity unsated until you were given a clear answer. You’d only been here a year, that wasn’t enough time to know the secrets of Redthorpe; to be let into those deeper circles. 

Otto licks his cracked lips, the wrinkles of his face leaving behind something akin to a scrunched dog’s visage—worn by time and improper care from the damage of the sun. He’d been at work on his boat for decades, and while you took his advice with a grain of salt usually,  this time he carried himself differently: you wanted to know why. 

He glares with no venom, taking out the scrubbed pan from the soapy water and barking, “What’s it with the younger generation and their bloody pushing? Listen to what I’m telling you and take it as it is, Girl. You don’t go on the water,” he blinks, face grim, “unless I’m the one ferryin’ you through it, eh? That’s the end of it. I’ll say no more.” 

Frowning heavily, you sigh under your breath and shake your head. Letting your eyes slip down to Harriet, you scratch under her chin and stare into her milky eyes as she lets out a little chirp.

“So much for answers,” your lips mutter. 

But a fire had been lit in your breast now—a low simmering pull like a rope had been tied to your wrist, drawing you closer and closer to the rocky shore, to a boat tied on the dock which you knew was steadily rocking to the deep, dark waves of this isolated place. 

To a navy-colored fin in the water, and a shape far larger than any you’d seen before. 

Blinking to look out the window of Otto’s home, your eyes find the ocean, and the longing that you’d always had for it grows ten times larger as your sketchbook begs to be filled.

—

It was only fate, you guessed, that you had come to Redthorpe—a tiny, unimportant dot on the map—when the way of life you’d chosen had led you astray. This place was a way to start over. Fix yourself. You’d picked the least-known town in all of Europe, and that was exactly what you wanted.

One trait, though, that could never be squashed from your psyche was the lust for the unknown. It was an obsessive lover; a toxic hand on the back of your neck that dragged you back over and over, until there was only yourself to blame for the repetition of disappointment. 

It was the reason you found yourself on the shore two days after you sighted the dark fin that cut the water. 

Your lace-up boots were atop a large boulder, shifting as your body turned from left to right, eyes patiently dragging the expanse of nothing. Waves lap only inches below, spraying up to get absorbed into your skirt, shawl whipping with the wind. The breeze is stuck with the sounds of birds, the very beings darting above your head, playing their games with varying cries that sound like throaty groaning. 

Bending, your arms wrap your waist, lips flickering. You were cold, limb-numbingly so, but even if you saw nothing today, or tomorrow, the push and pull of the ocean was enough—the call of the birds, the hypnotic sway of water. Calling to you, even if it had no lips to do so. 

Taking down a lung-shaking inhale, you chuckle, sketchbook sitting in the small purse around your shoulder. 

“What am I doing?” You ask yourself, shaking your head. “It was just a big fish—that old man was just being paranoid, anyways.” Eyes caressing the line where water meets the sky, your smile pulls your chilled cheeks. “There’s nothing out here worth my time. I need to finish my work.” 

Leaning back, you rub your hands up and down your biceps, nonetheless enjoying your time despite the burning of something in the back of your head. A knowledge that the fin was nothing documented before? A hope of discovery? A need for adventure? Oh, who can really say—what can be known are only three things: 

One, the weather was getting worse, two, the water was getting wilder, and, three, you had forgotten the way the rock you were standing on had shifted when you stepped up to it. Shuffling, your boots connect to the right corner, and your hands extend to keep your balance as you hiss a low breath, purse beginning to slip. 

There’s a gruff call from the water.

“Careful, then.”

Your head snaps up to the sound of a man’s voice, and you startle sharply, gasping as your foot slips. A quick cry is all you get out before you’re suddenly plummeting downwards headfirst into the frigid water. 

The feeling of liquid is all-consuming as it seeps into your nostrils and ears, all sound muffled entirely beyond the roar of it leaving you so stupendously—a flare, and then nothing. Eyes bugging, limbs slashing through the waves, the chill hits you in the chest with the force of a stone, smashing through your ribs to weigh you down with concrete stuck in your lungs. It was entirely a bodily reaction to gasp. 

Through the blue and the bubbles, you start to drown. 

Fingers twitching, you claw at nothing as the darkness settles its hands over your panicked eyes, not for a moment thinking about who had called to you in the first place—or who was poking a head out of the water before you’d gone over. Obviously, it was a trick of your senses; no one could survive being out in water like this.

You certainly weren’t going to. 

Legs slashing, something is darting in the corner of your eye before your vision fails, but the rapid fear in your heart masks the hand gripping at your shirt’s collar. It hides even the feeling of strong arms until the point where you’re yanked upwards with little effort as one curls your waist. It doesn't hide, however, the way you vomit up water as you’re heaved to the rocky shore moments later.

Choking, you hack up salt that burns your esophagus until your lunch quickly follows—all spilled with little care for your hands caught in the crossfire. Spine arching as if a cat, air can’t come sweeter as it is drawn in rapidly; nearly hyperventilating on the ocean-smooth stones as your clothes are utterly ruined. 

Panting, gasping, shivering violently, your head pulls itself weakly upward. It doesn’t take long for your mind to scream at you, and your head snaps behind you in a panic.

But there’s nothing but the raging water and the splash of a large navy-colored tail as big as your entire body disappearing back into the depths. 

Your fear can only stay for so long before the threat of a frigid death becomes more and more probable. In your race back up the cliff face to your shop, your purse is completely forgotten, trapped on the top of that shaky rock where it had fallen from your shoulder before the great plunge. 

Your shawl is seen floating out to the open water before it’s grasped from below and suddenly plucked—vanishing without a single trace.

—

The fire rages with the inferno of a million suns, and it’s not nearly hot enough. Wrapped in every blanket, sheet, and warm item available, you still can’t stop shivering hours later. A teacup was stuck in your hands, the liquid sloshing over the edges to slip over your quivering fingers and absorb into the cocoon of heat. 

Breathing through your shaky lungs, you keep the rim of the cup to your lips, eyes wide and horrified. In the still moments after you’d stripped and tried to stop the onset of sickness that you could already feel coming, there was a flash of realization from your strange and fantastical ordeal. 

There had been a man. 

The sensation of hands around your waist—the gruff voice that had spooked you so violently. A man. In the water. Every time you blink, you see a shadowed image, a tiny glimpse as you’d turned to the sound of human speech above the shriek of birds. 

Short brown hair and narrowed blue eyes set into sockets of pale skin. A bearded face, mustache…square jaw…

“What in God’s name?” You stutter in question over your tea, shaking your head. “That isn’t possible.” 

Outside your shop, the wind screams, pushing against your exterior shutters as night sets in. A storm was coming; there’d be no other adventures for you. Sipping your drink, you shiver again, curling in tighter to yourself as wood crackles. The light dances over your easels and side tables, piled high with jars of brushes and pallets—bottles of linseed oil and liquin, labeled with little pieces of hanging paper at the necks. 

There are paintings in the tens—in the twenties—hanging on the walls and set to the corners, all blue and gray; misty and clear. The water is a staple in all of them, and the cliffs as well. Perfect imitations of this place, as if you could reach a hand through the canvas and enter a mirrored world. Great ships are in some of them, or little fishing boats, with the birds overhead. Sometimes, it’s only the water itself, and to you, those were perhaps the best of your work. 

There was a beauty in the nothingness. A mystery. Who knows what’s under that thin surface? Well…apparently, it wasn’t human. 

You swallow down saliva and your lips thin. 

The thing in the water wasn’t… unattractive, you had to admit. Beyond the waterlogged hair and dripping beard, a large nose sat—full cheeks with an odd mole over them. The more you thought about the brief flash of a visage, the more you grew to hang onto it, strangely. And that navy tail? It had been incredibly unique. 

Spiney, nearly—four thin bones going down on both sides, branching out from the tail starting with the shortest that was perhaps only as long as your hand until the final was as lengthy as your entire arm. There was webbing between each spine to help the thing through the water quickly, it spread to the end of the barb until it sunk back in a ‘U’ movement, before once more arching out again to connect with the next spine. Small gasps in the caudal fin calling to either battles or a natural state of being—for show in it…his?...species. 

Could you even assign it a human gender? 

You close your eyes tightly in your shop, trying to will the image away from yourself. “What in the hell is going on?” Your voice is scratchy and low. 

Yet, the undeniable truth was that the fish-man had saved you. It couldn’t be overlooked. Not by you, who now can sit in front of this very fire because of it. Like a moth to the flame, the surge of cautious confusion is burning your wings. 

Deep blue eyes like the ocean. A navy tail. A gruff, hard voice.

You open your eyes and glare into the fireplace. 

“What has this place been hiding in the water? And why did it bloody save my life right after it nearly ended it?” 

More importantly…you had to think of a way to get your sketchbook back without getting on its bad side.

With a heavy chest, and more than a little fear in your heart, it was resolved to do something about all of this tomorrow. There was no use leaving the shop now. Glancing at the shaking window, you could hear the ocean rampaging over the cliffs; hear the slam of the rain hitting the roof like pounding feet. 

But that voice played in your ears like a gramophone's bleated chorus. 

You shiver again, not from the cold.

Careful, then. 

—

There was no question if you’d gotten sick because of your impromptu bath in the ocean—the evidence was in your salt-covered shirt and the stockings that were still drying on the hearth. 

Pressing a handkerchief to your mouth as you cough haggardly. You’re bundled in a nice fur dress coat, walking along the street with a skipping heart, a simple cloche hat over your head to protect you from the elements; dark blue in color.

The irony was not lost this morning when the hue had a striking familiarity to a fish-like tail, but it hadn’t stayed in your hand. A small drizzle slapped the fabric, and you were thankful you had brought the hat and coat along with you on the move from the big city. 

You weakly smile and nod to the locals you consider friends—at the very least acquaintances. But before long, you’re at the place you feel you need to be to gain answers, too nervous to go back to the shore immediately.

The library.

Something Otto had said came back to you last night, in the throws of insomnia. The two sentences he’d called out on the docks that day—You’ll not take her like you did Eleanor. Mark my words, I’ll be stringing you up by the tail first.

Eleanor? Who was that and how did it correlate to the beast in the water that wears a man's face? Maybe, the local records would tell you the answer—there had to be something about this person, ‘Eleanor,’ in them, right?

If not, there was only one option left, and that was going down to the shore and getting the results first hand…you’d rather exhaust all of your resources on solid land first. 

Slipping into the library with a deep breath and a cough in your throat, you sigh and nod slightly. Time to get to work.

“Oh,” the librarian looks up from her desk, standing as you shuffle over. “Hello, Dear,” she breathes through a chuckle, eyebrows pulling in softly. “My, you look a bit under the weather, don’t you? Would you like me to get some tea going…?”

“No, thank you,” you wave an easy hand. “I’m here on a bit of an errand, actually, and I was wondering if you could help me with something? I need to ask about your records.”

“Records?” The woman’s face shifts to confusion, her body slipping out to stand next to yours, you bring back up your handkerchief and sneeze into it, groaning. “What kind were you thinking, then?”

After you can push away the sheen of sickness to your eyes you take a breath and clear your throat of the stuffiness. “Births and work records? Addresses?” You make a small noise in the back of your mouth. “I guess I don’t know…anything that might help me?”

The librarian chuckles a bit, amused. “How about you tell me what it is you’re looking into, and I’ll try and grab any public knowledge that I can find. We’ll work together, then.” 

Weight is loosened from your shoulders and you nod appreciatively. “Deal.”

“Go on then,” she walks over to a shelf on the far side of the room, standing as her fingers run the spines. “Occupation I can start with, Dear?”

“Well…” you pause, shuffling after as your head looks from one sizable book to another. “No, unfortunately. Only a first name.”

“You’re lucky Redthorpe is small,” the woman laughs. “Otherwise I would have told you you’re lacking your senses with only something like that to go off of.” 

“Eleanor,” you comment, licking your lips and staring at a spine labeled ‘1890-1900 financial records - Redthorpe’. “E-L-E-A-N-O-R, or at least that’s the common spelling, I believe.” 

The librarian’s body is stone-still. Comparable to the immovable rocks of the shore as the waves bash against them; the raging of the wind. When you glance over, confused at the silence that infects the building, you’re reduced to a meek hesitation at the blank eyes that dig into your face. 

“...Or…maybe it’s N-O-R-E?” 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” is the hurried answer, and then the woman moves past with fast feet, heels clicking over the hardwood rapidly. “There hasn’t been an Eleanor in Redthrope. You’re mistaken.” 

“Wait,” you follow, stuttering. “I don’t understand, there has to have been—Otto was talking about her not days ago!”

“You’re mistaken,” is the repeated, firm answer, the librarian’s body swirling to face you again, pointing a finger at you. “Go back to your shop. Mr. Whitworth is old, he sees things that aren’t there. Don’t take what he says to heart—”

“I saw it!” You bark, fed up. Your mind was sick of these games being played, left out of the loop like you hadn’t formed a relationship with the people of this town. 

The woman’s mouth locked shut with a clack of teeth, something darting over her expression…fear?

She backs up slowly. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dear.”

Your lips twist, a threatening sneeze in the back of your nose. “I’m done with the word games! It dragged me out of the water like a sack of flour and tossed me to shore! It saved me!” Her hands are held in front of her as you stalk closer, trying to brush what you’re telling her aside as she struggles to string words. 

“It…it wouldn’t do that—that’s not how it acts. You’re just imagining things; you’re under the weather!”

“Who’s Eleanor?” You huff, stubborn as you cross your arms in front of you. “And what in the hell is a man with the tail of a fish doing living just below these cliffs?”

Wide eyes meet glaring ones, and the librarian’s lips move up and down in a panic. 

“I…” she begins, feet tapping the floor nervously as the rafters creak above the both of you. “I can’t talk about it. It’s not something to be said out loud—especially so close to the water.” 

You bark incredulously, “There’s a bloody monster that lives down in—!”

A hand is snapped over your mouth and you startle, blinking through the twitch of your body. 

“Shh!” The librarian panics, shaking her head, with flaring eyes. “Stop it or you’ll end up being dragged down to the ocean floor like Eleanor was!” You tense behind the hold, shoulders pulled in. It’s a quick spit of whispered words like a fast breeze. “Do you want your body showing up on the rocks?! Stay away from it!”

Your heart pounds in your chest, vision darting back and forth before she finally lets you go in a quick jerk of her body. The woman backs up, quivering as her eyes go to the window, nearly panting from fear. 

She looks back at you, blinks, and mutters out a quiet, “If you’ve already seen it, it wants you. Don’t go back to the water,” before she rushes into the back room and slams the door shut with the slipping of the lock. 

Left standing in the open library, the shelves sit stationary as if sentinels to your raw distress—this had only left you with more questions and a handful of jumbled answers. 

“Careful, then.”

You shake your head harshly and pivot to leave the library in a stupor, shoving your chin back down into your coat’s collar as the wind slaps your face once more. The call of the ocean is like a knife to the back of your neck.

—

Call you whatever name in the book, but you wanted your sketchbook back.

No one in town was giving you anything that was of use, and Otto was tighter-lipped than a lockbox. There was only so much you could do—could speculate—before the need for your belongings was too strong to ignore. It took two more days of pacing your shop before it was decided. 

Taking up the heavy cast-iron pan above your fireplace, you slip the thing into your coat, shove on your hat with a defiant grunt, and force the front door open. It’s a ten-minute walk to the shore, and all the way there, dread fills you up like soup until you’re bloated with it by the time your boots hit black rocks. Yet, there’s a point where a woman’s courage outweighs the sense of caution, and today was currently that day. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you grab your skirt and hike it up, placing your boot carefully on the first of the larger stones leading out to where you’d been previously. 

“Don’t look at the water,” you mutter quietly as you move, not shuffling forward until you know the rock isn’t going to topple this way or that. “Don’t even think about it.”

But that tail…that face…

With a growl under your breath, you grind your teeth and continue on. 

The weather today was much more agreeable, but cold. It was always chilled in Redthorpe—dreary as if the clouds never left far above. You didn’t mind, and in your coat pocket, the reassuring weight of your pan left you much warmer than you’d like to admit. 

The heat of protection, so to speak.

“Even a fish-man can die, I’d wager,” you utter, grunting as you ascend a larger rock, palm slapping the wet stone before you heavy upwards, slamming your boot to the top much like a schoolboy as your skirt bunches. “If I hit him hard enough in the skull. I wonder though,” you sneeze, shuddering, “if he even bleeds? If I crack his head open…will blood seep out, or salt water?” 

You shiver, and it’s not from the cold. “Fucking hell, you do like making it harder on yourself, don’t you.”

Lightly panting, you brush down your coat on the top of the rock and turn to look at the boulder where you’d fallen previously, blinking. Pausing, your eyes find not only your sketchbook sitting there…but also your shawl. 

Struggling for a moment to try and justify your actions, you swiftly look over the surface of the water, seeing the gentle push and pull of waves. No fin. No tail. 

You aren’t sure if the feeling in your chest is joy or disappointment.

Licking your lips, you take a large breath before your face turns grim.

“Grab it and run,” your voice echoes in your own head, heart pounding with adrenaline the more steps you take to the boulder, water sloshing at the sides. You had thought perhaps that the rain—the storm—would render all of your lost belongings null, but as you bent and snatched your items to you, shawl hanging from your arm, you were pleasantly surprised. It was all dry; impossibly so. 

Amid your shock, your slack jaw, and the weight of your pan in your coat, your shaky fingers open your book with bated breath. 

Everything was in pristine condition, if not only slightly curled at the corners due to…your eyebrows pull in, expression struggling to take on the emotion of anything other than pure awe.

“Fingerprints?” 

Eyes slipping from one page to the next, flipping them only to see the press and pull of a long gone thumb, shiting the paper to gaze at the back, where a forefinger would have been. A hand laced in water had been turning the pages, just as you do now—and, yet, there wasn’t an inch that was damaged; nothing smeared. 

Shoulders loosening from their tensed position, your wide stare is utterly transfixed as your digits rub the material softly, feet shifting. 

Lowering your sketchbook, your small huff of amazed laughter, mind running. 

He’d been going through your drawings—he’d somehow protected these items from the rain and salt. How? Why? But another question wrapped its hands in your skull.

Did he like them?

Shuffling the book into the crook of your arm, you carefully wrap your shawl over the material to further keep it safe, not able to find your purse, though the only thing it ever held was your sketchbook in the first place; it wasn’t too important. 

Rising your head again, you gaze openly outward, lips opening and closing in a small stutter. Was he out there, this strange creature with a strong face and those deep eyes? That navy tail, looking like a beautiful imitation of kelp…was it just under where you now study the waves?

So many questions, so few answers. 

You clear your throat, holding your items tighter. There’s magnetism in your blood, and it sits on your tongue like salt.

“Thank you!” Your voice calls high, joining the chorus of birds far above on the cliffs. Eyes skating the rocks, the shore, the ocean, everything. Call you prideful, but perhaps the best way to gain your favor is to know that someone, whatever bit strange and fantastical, had enjoyed your work to the smallest degree. 

The way your eyes spark is still embarrassing, though, but it comes naturally after the heat that simmers over your face. 

“Truly,” you shout to the wind. “You have no idea how much this means! If you’re listening, I’d like to extend my gratitude…” Your face is beaming, and you can convince yourself that all of your fear over this is gone, even if that would just plainly be untrue. “My artwork is everything to me, I do hope you enjoyed it!” 

A creature so easily curious about your skills wouldn’t drag you to the bottom of the ocean…right? 

Hell, he’d already had a chance to do that—a perfect one—and yet, here you are. What the Librarian had said had to be false, it made no sense otherwise.

Seeing nothing, and knowing that you were needed back at your shop, you chuckle under your breath and back up swiftly, walking the distance back to the surrounding rocks and slipping off softly. Grunting under your breath, your boots hit the stone, and you carefully begin back-tracking. 

“You’re good at it,” you halt in a fraction of a second. “The images. Where’d you learn to do that?”

It’s a long moment before you turn with a cautious tilt to your head, and find the very same visage as you had a glimpse of days ago. You fight a fast inhale, but your straightening spine tells all the story it needs to. Like a fool, you lose the words in your mouth, as if trying to catch a bird of prey with a butterfly net.

A strong face is poking out of the water only a mere five feet away.

Your eyes slip to the soaked beard, the peak of bare shoulders—broad, of course—and the prying orbs that you feel will never leave; he wades there, arms under the dark water only a flash of pale skin before they’re gone again. 

“I…” you lick your lips, blinking through the moment of animalistic panic. You were on land, there was nothing to fear. The sight was still something to be remembered, though. “I was self-taught, Sir.” 

Blue eyes blink, serious face only made more so by the twitching of his large nose, which water drips from periodically. Droplets stay stuck to his dark lashes, and you’re near bursting with questions. 

But silence persists long after your sentence filters out to nothing.

“You pulled me from the water,” you state slowly. “And I don’t even know your name.”

The man looks you up and down, not arrogant, no, but in a way that is comparable to how you did the same to him. Studying you as if your body was strange to him. The realization almost made you laugh—perhaps it was strange to him.

You want to see that tail of his again. Your fingers itch to sketch its likeness and commit it to muscle memory. 

“I scared you,” he grumbles, sighing. “It wasn’t my intention to send you over.” Eyes still stay stuck. “My own fault.”

“I won’t deny you there,” you huff, gaze shifting away for a moment before filtering back. A slash of amusement curls in the thing’s eyes, and he hums. “Forgive me,” your breath wafts out over the air, face going what you can assume to be sheepish. It astounds you, though, that the conversation comes easily. “But I haven’t the faintest bloody clue as to what to call you.”

“John,” is the reply. Accent like gravel. He doesn’t waste his breath, seems. 

“John?” You lick your lips, legs shuffling over the stone. The name leaves you holding back a loud laugh. “Well, I suppose I could have guessed that, then. I’ve met more than enough ‘Johns’ so far.”

“Funny, are you?” The response, however dry, is tinged with something you can’t name. 

“I try,” you nod jokingly, motioning with a hand. “Just didn’t expect a man with a fishtail to act so….human. Certainly not be named like one, either.”

“Hm,” John grunts, blinking slowly. A hand slips above the water, and you watch it flex and drag to itch at the back of his neck, hair over the arm slick to the flesh. Your face heats, and your eyes dip to see the small shadow under the water almost graze the surface, rippling the waves intimately, as if tail and liquid were of the same sound mind. 

It wasn’t out of the question to say you longed for a glimpse. 

What would it feel like to touch it?

“You live here?” Your voice is hoarse before you clear it quickly. “Right below the cliffs?” 

“You’re the woman that goes out in the boat,” John firmly interjects, and you blink, taken aback. 

“Yes, that’s me.” You explain, pulling at the lip of your hat to force it down further over your head. “Otto goes fishing in the mornings—I like to sketch the shore. He isn’t the worst company, of course. He’s kind enough to let me along with him.”

But you won’t be kept down. There’s magical curiosity in your chest now.

“Your tail,” you take a step forward, boots being licked by icy water. John’s eyes widen a smidge, not expecting you to actively move closer. His head tilts as if a bird, confusion brimming though he hides it expertly. You imagined he considered you a bit mad. “Forgive me, Sir, but I must know,” your uttered rambles make his hidden lip twitch, a little twist to your expression that shows wonder. “Is it attached to you, or do you slip out of it like a pair of pants? O-or even like wearing a stage costume? Oh, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

John can’t find the words for a moment, only able to watch and assess as he always did in times like these. You were…different, he supposed. But he knew that the moment you had shifted your body over the side of that old man’s boat—looking for a glimpse of something unknown. He could see it in your eyes. 

The water calls to you. It lives in your veins already, waiting. More salt and seaweed than earth and grass. Sand, rock, gulls, they all cry in the back of your mind, and your fingers itch to catalog them into immortality in a way that John was fascinated over—the skill of parchment and memorization. Mastery over detail.

He doesn't know why he’s speaking to you, truly. He’d done his penance; saved your life. But he knows he doesn’t dislike it, and that in and of itself needed to be understood. John couldn’t leave his analytical brain lacking an answer to a question as big as that—a woman of all things? A human one? 

Blue eyes can’t seem to slip from yours, as you await a gruff reply.

“No.” You blink, pulling back a smidge when John’s voice is low and graited. “Go back to your home. It’s late.”

“Hey, wait—!”

But he’s already gone under the waves, and you’re left with a waterlogged boot, a cast iron pan, and the two items that had survived because of a grizzly creature's compassion. Your lungs heave, and the cloud of condensation rises into a gray sky.

You stay there far longer than you’d like to admit.

—

You struggled, slipped, and climbed your way back to that point on the rocks every other day, and yet, there was nothing more to be seen of the man with the tail. You knew he was out there, felt it in your bones, and still…you were left here staring out at far-off boats and half-hopes. Wondering. Waiting. 

In the days that passed, you would explore the shore further, going in nooks and deep bends that extended into the cliffs during low tide, cringing away from the slippery fingers of kelp stuck to the walls. Dead fish, mucus-lined snails—you had made the important decision of leaving your sketchbook at home, the pages already filled with the perfect reflection of a man’s face peeking above the water. 

Taking off your hat, you huff on a similar day to those others, this time slipping inside a cave with a direct connection to the ocean. There wasn’t any wind in here—and you sigh in relief as your breeze-bitten cheeks can finally get a rest. You didn’t know what you expected to find doing all this fruitless searching, but it didn’t erase the fact that you enjoyed it; looking for a glimpse of something out of the ordinary. 

Brushing your hat of sand and other such items, your head swivels softly, a delicate smile on your face as water drips from the rock ceiling, stalactites like broken fingers reaching for the ground. A pool of sorts takes up most of this place, the thing extending to the ocean through a medium-sized opening in the stone.

You turn in a half-circle. 

“Beautiful,” your lips murmur, voice echoing. 

Walking forward, every so often your body stoops to carefully grasp shells and smoothed shards of colored glass, beaten down by waves and reduced to harmless trinkets. Continuing, you care little about your boots or your coat, only for the pull in your chest that tells you to keep going until your legs are weak and weary—shaking from a day long spent in selfish adventure.

When you find the pile of rings, sitting in soft kelp, you nearly walk right past them until the glint of metal takes you by surprise. Pausing, your pulse warms as your eyes slash to the side, getting sucked in as easily as cookies to a child. 

Only hesitating a second, you slowly walk until you’re inches away, seeing different styles and gems like starlight sitting as if unaware of their raw beauty. 

“What are you doing in here…?” You ask yourself, your own voice responding from the walls as it bounces. 

Picking up one of pure gold, you shift the band to stare openly at an emerald nearly the size of your knuckle set into it. Lips parting, it’s as if your breath is stolen by a quiet thief. But the sudden arrival of splashing snaps you out of your stupor quite quickly.

Dropping the ring immediately back into the pile, your hand jerks to your chest as an increasingly common face shows itself once more from the water. 

You clear your throat, face burning as John raises a slow brow, glancing at the stash of rings silently. 

“One day you’re going to make me keel over,” your voice berates, pointedly avoiding his blues. So the items were his. 

“A thief as well as an artist?” John asks after a moment, tilting his skull as his body drifts closer to the rocky side of the pool. The next sentence is no question, only a statement. “You’ve been looking for me.”

You take a long breath, sighing, before you shove your hat into your coat’s pocket, glaring lightly. “You left so abruptly, I never got to ask my questions. Quite rude of you to keep a lady waiting, John.”

As you say his name, he glances over, but not before his sizable hands slap to the side of the rock and he hoists himself up with a single push of his forearms. The man grunts, lips pulling, before you’re left breathless. 

Eyes stuck on the upper half of his body, the water dripping down the hair-layered bulge of visible muscle, your wide vision skates from one point to another, flesh on fire the more you stay mute. But the tail—that was something you could never describe. 

The beginning was all you could see; scales of dark navy and a spread of muddled silver-like dots, nearly impossible to make out except at this distance. They began at the top of where hips should be, the scales, smaller and blending into the skin easily, only becoming larger the more the tail extended down; the appendage was far larger than legs would be, that you can tell easily. You can’t see all of it, as perhaps a little less than half still sits swaying in the water…but even this was enough for now.

This moment would be stuck in your sketchbook for all of eternity. 

It’s only after your jaw is slackened that you realize John has been watching you the entire time.

Forcing it shut with a tiny clack of teeth, you try to regain any composure you can. The being’s beard curls in a smirk, cheek pushing to show the lines near his eyes. 

“If someone’s avoiding you, Sunshine,” he grunts out, voice low. From the corner of his eye, he watches as his hand rises to itch at his beard. “They usually don’t want to have a conversation.”

“I think it’s fair,” you huff. “You can’t just disappear when I have so many unanswered questions.”

John blinks, attention not moving for even a second. Your own is less than firm, fighting to not dart down to openly study every dip and bend of his bones. He was so…stoic. Gruff. But there were moments of amusement—even annoyed interest. 

“I don’t have time to fuckin’ entertain others,” he thins his lips. 

Your arms crossed, face dripping into seriousness. “And what else is so much more important, then?” You raise a brow. “Scaring other women into the water?”

He huffs under his breath. “It was an accident—wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so jumpy, eh?” 

“It’s not like I expect to see fishmen pop out of the water,” you defend. 

“Mer-man, Love,” he licks his lips, sighing, as his eyes shift to glance at the opening of the cave. Your face bleeds into a slight expression of satisfaction, arms over your chest tightening as your feet rock back on their heels.

“Well,” you chuckle. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

An emotionless glare is all you receive. 

It was no surprise that you ended up blurting out inquiry after inquiry—what does having a tail feel like? How do you breathe underwater, or do you only hold your breath like a human? Do you have gills somewhere, or lungs? What other creatures are out there like you?

You have no idea what time it ends up being, and you have no intention of stopping soon. It’s a pleasant surprise, then, that John answers all of your quick words with full answers; giving slow, but not condescending explanations. 

A few times there had been tiny chuckles, and the little conversations amounted to you sitting on a rock right near the water, only feet away from where the tail drifts in the waves; John’s hands keeping his upper half straight as his palms meet slippery stone. 

“And the rings?” You breathlessly wonder, attention darting to the pile. “Do you find them out there? Keep them?”

John tilts his head in an affirmation. “Shipwrecks. There’ll be hundreds of them—I’m not one to keep many belongings, but the bloody things were nicely made.” He sighs. “Seemed a waste to leave them down there.”

You huff a sound of amusement. “I see. Fascinating.”

In the small pause, your eyes once more study the cave, seeing little breaks in the walls where cubby-like indents are. In them, your focus drifts from one glimmering object to another, all previously missed by you when you’d first entered. 

You blink. “You live here?”

“Affirmative,” John stares. His body shifts, tail flickering as your focus snaps back to it, almost lost in the way the ends so nimbly slice the water. Like wispy fabric. Your eyes soften like molten metal. You look back at him and find his eyes already locked to yours. 

Breath caught in your throat, you chuckle meekly to dispel your embarrassment. John’s face minutely relaxes, stern brow loosening.

“And…” you lick your lips, knowing it was time to leave. The sun no longer shines through the crack in the rock. “If I were to come back, would I be able to find you here?” 

There’s a flash of that same indecipherable emotion as before over his bushy face. 

The man was anything but small—everything to the swell of his tail; body hair for, what you assume, is to keep out the constant chill of the water. You’d never imagined that you’d find it all so attractive down to the navy scales that shimmered above the push of his side. That healthy layer of meat was eliciting far more of a physical reaction than you’d care to admit to anyone, let alone a priest of any religion during a confession.

Perhaps that fall into the water really had killed you.

“I’ll be here,” John responds lowly, gravel in his throat.

Swallowing down saliva, you push back the ravenous smile that threatens you.

“...Okay.”

—

And this affair became such a constant, that most of the people in town had begun asking about you as you snuck to the waters. Otto was largely concerned, but would not say anything more for some unseen fear—nor the Librarian, who avoided your eyes any chance she got. 

Dragged to the ocean floor. Body on the rocks. 

The sheen of discovery could be a powerful vice, and for those first two months, you never asked John about the woman named Eleanor or who she might be—what correlation she had to beasts of the water. Then again, you didn’t have to ask. He managed to get around to it himself. 

Your eyes blankly stare at the page of your sketchbook, the merman’s rough shape chicken-scratched with small lines into the parchment, and your pencil stays still to it, immobile. From across the cave, John’s face tightens as his eyelids narrow. You’d been quiet today, he had noticed. Usually so bright with your words, the walls had barely echoed with the symphony of your speech, and, more importantly, John’s ears hadn’t twitched to it. 

He had become fond of your company, he admitted to himself. A strange human woman with her fur coat and hat, the little sketchbook that held such wonderful imitations of life. John was anything but dull—he knew you drew him, and he entertained the activity. In fact, the thought at one point or another may have made the brute of a man blush a bit. So, when you were as still as the stone you sat on, he had concerns. 

He liked it when you spoke, even if it was only a tease. And the tightness of his chest when you don’t look his way is enough to leave his tail twitching in confusion as it sits in the water.

“You’re quiet today,” he starts, frowning. 

Your fingers jerk, sending a line over your paper as you blink, looking up as your heart skips a beat. Glancing at John’s face, the thoughts inside of your head slip until you can understand what he said. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, and the man’s face pulls. “You can speak if you want. I'm just a little distracted.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Love, yeah?” John grunts, hands shifting over the stone. He looks you up and down, tail sitting still below him. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” your lips mumble, and you shake your head. “It’s one of my questions again.” You pause, closing your book. “A difficult one.”

John’s lips flicker. “Well, we’ve been at this for ages. Can’t see how this one is more difficult than the others.” He nods softly, voice a low and somewhat smooth mutter. “Go on.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you huff, standing and placing your sketchbook in the driest part of the cave before walking closer. Bending right in front of John, your face is tight. The man likes it like this—having you closer. He can feel the heat roll off you, and his eyes flutter even when nothing on his face gives away the pull he senses in his chest. 

John hums and swallows stiffly.

“Why not?” His head tilts, and he clears his throat to get rid of the raspy scrape of his vocals. “Something going on up there?”

Up there. 

The Merman had asked about Redthorpe, as well as the rest of the people who lived there. The atmosphere, the way of life. Your meetings were more of an exchange of information and stolen glances than anything else, the other none the wiser to this magnetic attraction. It was a delicate thing, knowing that there was something more and yet unable to fully express the way it makes you feel. Neither of you knows what to call it.

“More so in here,” you smile tinily, pointing at your head as your cheeks grow hot. 

“Then speak to me,” John frowns, trying a low smirk. “Think we both know I’m a good listener then, Love. There’s time,” he glances at the entrance. “Won’t be near dark for a few more hours—don’t want you climbing at night.”

“Awe,” you breathe, beaming suddenly with that glint back in your eyes. John hides the sagging of his shoulders, only offering a hum under his breath as he looks over at you. His kelp-like fins twitch, and he wonders what it would feel like to have you touch them. It was obvious you wanted to.

Not yet. 

“Hurry up, Sunshine,” John grinds out, that accent all the more sandy. 

There’s a small grunt and a shuffle, and, soon, a warm body is plotting itself next to his own, arm touching his, and a pair of bare feet slipping into the pool. Blue eyes widen in surprise, head darting to where your form rests so simply—so near the crook of his shoulder that he could reach over and draw you to him if he so wanted. 

Your feet shift as the hem of your skirt gets soggy with water, and John barks out a firm, “You’re going to get cold.” 

“It’s not as cold here as it is out there,” you shrug to him, smiling with a side-eye. “Besides, I’m right next to you—you’ll keep me warm, won’t you, John?”

“Fucking hell,” he puffs out, shaking his head as he rips it forward once more, clenching his jaw. Your scent seeps into his nose, and when your leg slips along the side of his scales under the water, he all but goes a blank-faced scarlet. 

You hide a chuckle, shivering at the chill but more so at the unimaginably smooth sensation of John’s tail over your flesh. Your legs move through the water to cross at the ankles, your right hand resting to directly touch John’s left. With every pump of your blood, his own mirrors.

Yet, your mood sobers, and the joy leaks. 

“There’s a woman that no one speaks about in Redthrope,” you begin, and John settles to listen, brows furrowing in concentration as your skin sits so well next to his own. “Eleanor.” 

The man pauses abruptly, and you keep talking.

“And for some reason,” you sigh out a low breath, turning to look at John and his still face; emotionless. “Everyone seems to blame you for whatever happened to her. I don’t know if she’s missing, or…”

Your words trail off, insinuation clear.

Not noticing any chance on John’s face, you lightly bump him with your elbow, expression going concerned. “Hey, are you alright?” Your opposite hand raises, moving out between the two of you. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything, I would just really appreciate anything you might know about it.” Eyes imploring, your heart pours itself. “I don’t think you’d do something like that.”

John blinks slowly, finally opening his mouth. “What makes you say that?”

“If you were some murderous creature,” you shrug, “I don’t think you would have tried to pull me out of the ocean in the first place.” Lashes caressing your cheeks, you smile. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” the man huffs, quirking a brow. “No, you’re not wrong.”

“Knew it,” you whisper, eyes crinkling as you side-eye him.

John chuckles, half rolling his eyes as he leans to your ear as he grumbles. “Gettin’ cheeky, are you?” 

If you were a bird, you’d be preening your feathers, eyelids narrowed. “Perhaps, John.” 

It is a wonder, then, that the two of you don’t lock lips that very instant—long fins curling around legs and shoulders stuck together, pinkies unconsciously sitting atop the others as if pieces of parchment. Blue eyes shift smoothly to your lips, but before you can register that they have, John’s head is already moving back and his spine is straight. 

The man flattens his lips, tilting his skull. 

“I knew of a woman named Eleanor—she would come down with her husband, Noah, and they would walk along the shore. Got close to this place a few times.” Dark brows tighten. “Found her body in the water after a storm about two years ago; brought it back to the rocks so someone could retrieve it.” Your face loosens as the information settles in. John makes a noise in his chest. “Interesting that I’d be roped into it, but it’s understandable. Always someone to blame, eh?” 

“I don’t blame you,” you whisper. “That must have been horrible.”

Blue slips over to you silently, and it’s a long moment before John only hums under his breath, blinking away softly. 

“Scared me when you fell in.” Listening, your heart clenches in your ribs. To think about what must have been going through his head at that instant was sad to you, and even worse so when you know he would have blamed himself if you might have ended up seriously hurt.

“Well,” you lean into him, face on fire, “it was a good thing you were there to drag me out, then. A little water never hurt anyone, so long as a handsome merman is there to take them back to shore.” 

John huffs out a laugh. “Handsome?”

“Oh, very,” you joke. “The tail is a bonus.” Your expression lightens, eyes glinting. “Since when did you know that navy is my favorite color?”

The feeling of the cold water is only a back-drop to the way John’s fins twitch against your bare legs intimately, and you chuckle as the beard can only hide so much red skin. 

“Bugger off,” he grunts. 

You’ve never heard a smile so clearly before in your life.

—

Your paintings were selling far better than they ever had, and you had to thank the new muse of them for that fact. 

John’s appearance in your work had started small—a glimpse of a fin, the presence of a shadow in the water—and had steadily grown. Now, hidden like a present, there was the image of some fishtailed man somewhere in all of them, a steady injection of magic into the veins of cerulean blue and ivory black. It showed you that fewer people knew about John than you had previously thought. 

Initially, you had imagined that everyone knew and the reason you didn’t was because you were relatively new here, but no. Most had been enamored by your work when they found the ‘strange fish-man’ in one, pointing and chucking to themselves, talking about how adorable it was. No one was shocked, no one sent looks. 

By the end of the week, you had been convinced that it had been narrowed down to Otto and the Librarian—

The bell of your shop dings.

Looking up from your easel, you smile and stand automatically, thinking about closing soon so you can go and see John. Nowadays, even the thought of him makes your blood pump heavy. 

“How can I help you today, Sir?” Your brushes find the side table you had set up, locking eyes with a tall, thin man in his late thirties. He wears a suit, and in his breast pocket, there’s the gleam of a gold chain attached to a pocket watch. 

“I’m here to ask about a detail in your paintings, Miss.” He’s well-spoken as well, and you’re shocked to know you haven't met him yet if he lived in Redthorpe—he doesn’t seem familiar at all.

“Of course,” you nod, perplexed. “I’m sorry, I think I missed your name.”

“Noah Moore,” is the even response. Noah is already walking around, bending to look into some of your work which hangs on the wall. “My neighbor brought home one of your pieces; I found I liked it very much. Had even considered commissioning.”

Noah? You blink slowly, watching. Wasn’t that Eleanor’s husband?

“Thank you,” your lips move, thinning. “That’s very high praise, Mr. Moore.” 

“This creature,” Noah stands, and dark eyes set on you. For some reason, the hair along your arms stands on end. “The man with a fish tail. Have you seen him?”

Your instant reaction is to lie, and that in and of itself is a telltale sign that something is wrong. Noah makes the alarm in the back of your head go off for no reason other than the way he’s trying to pry with that unblinking gaze of his. The rich apparel; the attitude. He isn’t right.

“Seen him?” Chuckles echo off the walls. “Who? The beast? No, Sir, that…thing…is just something I made up.” You wave a hand, but back up a step, trying to create distance. Your hip lightly bumps the side table, and your materials jerk. Gasping under your breath, your head snaps down, catching your brush before it can fall. “Oh my, clumsy me.” you laugh stiffly. “Apologies, Sir, but that’s the truth. I wanted to create something that all of Redthrope might enjoy; a local legend of sorts, see.”

Your eyes had siphoned back with a dread in your heart. The man mutely stares, a deep frown pulling his lips. As if the conversation had never happened, after a long stretch of tension, Noah smiles widely. 

“Ah,” he huffs, “of course. It was silly of me to ask.” Dark eyes are emotionless, and the pull of his eyelids is not there. Spine so tight it could snap in half, and your fingers curl around the brush before you place it down stiffly. “Though,” Mr. Moore clicks his tongue, taking one step closer. 

Your eyes widen, but you say nothing. Your mind flashes to John, and there’s a longing for the ocean so strong, it seems a good idea to you, to rush out the door right now and sprint for it; hurl yourself to the waves, if need be. He’d find you—you know he would.

“Though,” Noah continues, tilting his head. “There is a striking resemblance to a creature I recall seeing from the cliffs, the day my wife’s body was found at the rocks.” 

Backing up another step, your muscles ache with how you hold them like a shield to your organs. 

“As far as I know, only two others were searching at my side that day. And in it I am certain,” he hums, “you weren’t even here.”

Otto and the librarian, you think quickly, mind a mess of information and fear. It’s why they’re so spooked. They think John actually killed Eleanor and left her—they saw him bring her body to shore.

It’s a lack of foresight on your part, that the next bark is more of a reaction to the panic than proper knowledge, cracking under pressure. 

“John would never kill an innocent woman!” 

It’s as if a switch goes off, and, suddenly, there’s a ruthless hand grabbing at your throat. Yelping, you stagger back and snap your fingers to Noah’s wrist, clawing until there’s blood under your nails; air is sucked in with a wheeze. In the back of your head, there’s wild screaming, and you can’t tell if it’s the pounding of your blood or the internal sensation of primal fear. 

Raging eyes shove themselves right in front of yours, faces so close you can feel Noah’s hot breath moving over your burning face. You try to cough but find you can’t as one of your hands struggles to slap to the side table—searching fruitlessly. 

“John?” Noah sneers, holding tighter. “The thing has a name?”

Your easel clatters to the ground, back being shoved right into it. Mouth opening and closing, the cut of oxygen reduces your mind to acting purely off instinct—breaking down like glass to fracture to only one thing: survival.

“It was perfect,” Mr. Moore growls, eyes ablaze. “I had it all planned out, only to be ruined by a freak of nature at the last moment!” 

Your nails gouge the wood, dragging, searching, slapping. Anything—anything at all to help as your boots scrape from under you. You can’t even comprehend the words being said; all of it is a blur as blackness peels the side of your vision. 

Tears splatter down your cheeks.

“Two years, and then you had to come along and fucking speak to it! What did it tell you? Eh? What did it see that night?”

Your hand curls the glass bottle where you store your brushes and without another thought, you slam the side of it to Noah’s head. 

Shouting, the man releases you in an instant, glass leaving long lines of blood splattering out to sprinkle your face as it shatters, collapsing into itself. Connecting to the ground, your hacking can only take place for under two seconds before your boots scramble for purchase, stumbling and flailing at least once; lungs gasping. 

Shoulder connecting with the side of the door frame as you bang it open, an enraged scream follows you into the rainy afternoon, the rumble of deadly thunder far overhead. 

Running, you don’t know how to stop, and it’s even harder to catch your breath by the time you’re down to the rocks, looking over your shoulder as if Noah would be right behind you. He wasn’t—but the fear was enough to keep you going until you were bathed in sweat and barely strong enough to fall into the entrance of John’s cave, fingers cut up and raw from grappling over stone.

There’s a quick call of your name from across the enclosed space, but your ears are ringing too loud to hear—whipping around to stare at the entrance as you struggle back on your hands, legs shaking. 

“Love!”

Your eyes slash to the side, and through the quivering of your lashes, through the blur of tears, you lock onto the desperate slash of grayish-blue that’s a near-perfect reflection of the ocean itself. Painting, the realization comes a moment too late, as pale fingers touch your cheek and you flinch back with a deep pain in your neck. 

Pulsing veins echo along your entire body, but there, at the point of where hands had wrapped your flesh, it burned with a horrible fire that made thin noise escape your lips.

“Hey,” John breathes, having dragged himself at a moment’s notice across the floor of the cave. “Hey,” he repeats slower, eyes slashing you up and down for any sign of injury. 

His hand is outstretched, but he doesn’t try to touch you again seeing how you’d jerked away. The man’s heart had stopped at that—his concern shooting up similar to how he felt when you’d raced through the entrance as if a fire was on your heels. A near panic at the fear on your face, leaving his body on high alert; eyes skating the surrounding quickly.

But the splatters of blood on your face were something to reduce him to an enraged beast.

“What is going on,” he tries to keep the rough anger from his tone, attempting to leave it soft and smooth. There’s only so much he can do, though, as you shake and pant. 

Your body gradually slows itself, attention seeping back to allow you to take control of your limbs. The first thing you see clearly is John’s outstretched hand, and, then, the clench of his jaw—the eyes that follow every teardrop down the flesh of your cheek.

Openly gazing, when John sees you’re back, his blues slip to a softened caress. 

“Love,” he mutters, face tight. 

You shove yourself into his arms and let off a sob that echoes louder than any laughter could. Curling into his chest, water seeps into your shirt, but the all-expansive hand that keeps you close is worth every clothesline you would have to hang. 

“Shh,” John breathes, knowing that he’d get an explanation when he calmed you down, even if his mind was breaking itself to try and understand. “I’m right here, Sunshine. Breathe, then…I’m right here, yeah?” 

His nose pushes itself into your scalp as your head hides away, quivering body curled like a cat around a fish—no air between the two of you, chests running across the others. So little space, and yet this breathlessness was one you could welcome time and time again.

John watches, eyes always open as he glares into your hair, grip tightening the longer you cry; a feeling so potent brimming in his chest, he would be a fool to ignore it.

You were more precious to him than any ring, than any trinket he could stash away and forget about. The way his heart bent to yours was stronger than any storm. 

Breathing down your scent, John sighed, kissed the top of your head, and lightly rocked you back and forth. 

He’d wait as long as it took.

—

When it became apparent you couldn’t speak beyond broken little coughs and wheezes, John was quick to bring you to the water of the pool.  

Now, perhaps hours later, you sit with the burn and fatigue of crying eyes, sniffling as you shove away the stain of red on your cheeks. 

“Careful,” John lightly comments, grasping your hand and pulling it away. His own replaces it, wet from the water he now wades in to help. “Let me get it, eh?”

Your eyes stay stuck to his nose as fingers push away the crimson of blood easily, firm but still utterly delicate. 

“I’m not glass,” you croak, one hand near your throat. 

Blue eyes blink at you. “Never said you were,” he grunts, frowning, and you see his Adam’s Apple bob. “Don’t like seeing you with blood on your face, Love.”

Like it had never happened, the fingers return, and a moment later, he grumbles out, “And stop talking—you’ll make it worse.” 

You hadn’t explained, not yet, but by the utter rage you see John trying to hide from you, you know he understands how you might have gotten the swelling now present on your neck. His heart had been visibly pumping the entire time you’d been here; you could hear it when he was holding you, a relentless, thump-thump-bump, thump-thump-bump in your ear.

The brunette had been clenching his jaw more as well, grunting as if a boar after every sentence, a nervous habit, perhaps. He was trying to mask it for you, but you weren’t blind. 

John pauses his cleaning, glancing at your throat. 

He studies your face after he hums under his breath, having to dart his gaze away for a moment. 

“...Can I?” You pause, swallowing as the burn persists. 

Nodding after a minute of slow contemplation, cold hands shift to press carefully—not tightening, not holding you there—resting to give relief. You only tense a little, but as the seconds draw, John watches you sag forward with a large sigh through your nose. 

He lets a small sliver of calm enter him.

“Easy,” John whispers, blinking. He keeps the chill of his hands at your neck, fins shifting the water to keep him still. “When you’re ready, explain it to me, eh?” His head tilts, voice a low tease. “Glass or not.” 

Your lips twitch, and the way your eyes melt could only be compared to safety. You open your lips, and John mutters lowly as your fingers brush over his own, “Quietly, now. Can hear just fine—don’t push yourself.” 

Blue flickers to your touch, fingertips trailing his knuckles as the man grunts, attention fluttering back. 

All you say is one name. 

“Noah.” 

There’s a moment of confusion on John’s face, skin wrinkling, before the understanding settles swiftly—he wasn’t a fool. From there, his expression changes ten times over; that rage, then fear for you, confusion, and stubbornness. It’s of little surprise to you that a man so loyal was reduced to a dog. 

A dog with scales, that is.

Your body is still running hot—your heart still pumping, though the adrenaline has left with all of its stimulation. You’re tired, yes, that much is obvious. But you want John to hold you again. 

When you shift your body, the man’s eyes widen, and he blinks quickly in shock as your legs then slip into the waves inch by inch.

A noise exits the back of his throat, and John’s mouth moves in serious question. “What are you doing? Fucking hell, would you just stay still and let me have a look at you—”

Arms grapple around his waist, and a warm head burrows into his neck. 

You rest against him, body suspended in the water of the deep pool, a merman’s tail swishing to shove you the tiniest bit closer unconsciously. John’s chest bounces with every emotion, but all he does is stop you from sinking by holding you. Your eyes close at the dig of his hands, and, letting the water move the both of you, the smooth scales along your legs feel as if the finest silk. A thumb caressing up and down your spine; breath at the top of your head.

You both say nothing, and it’s a long while before either of you takes any action to leave.

—

When your words could be strung together and not broken every other sentence, you explained all of it, and the hunch you’d strung together in the meantime.

You fiddle with one of John’s rings—the emerald one—as you glance up and speak softly, voice still delicate. The pain still blossomed, but some things needed to be explained.

“I think he killed his wife.” 

By the way John stops massaging the flesh of your neck, letting you rest your head in the crook of where his tail begins and skin ends, you knew he already pieced that together a while ago. Your clothes were still heavy with water, and a puddle had formed around the both of you on the rocks.

“Hm,” is all John says, fixing the position of his lips as he looks away.

He shakes his head, growling out, “You’re not going back up there. Not while he’s still walking the streets.”

You frown, but John glares without any venom. “It wasn’t a question, Love.”

“What will you do,” you whisper, voice hoarse. A brow quirks. “Run after me, John?”

The man stares, not taking it as lightly as you. “If I have to.”

Your breath hitches, hands resting numbly over the ring as John’s fingers once again continue their touching—as if he can rub away the swelling; the damage of the veins. 

“You don’t have legs,” you utter, having to pause in the middle of the sentence to breathe deeply. 

“I’ll crawl,” he grunts.

“The rocks are sharp.”

His face is immobile. “Then I’ll bleed.”

Your mind memorized the stubbornness of his expression—the pull of the crow’s feet beside his eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of a joke in John’s eyes; no lie. Watching him, your face is loose with wonder, and water drips from your temple to connect with those dark navy scales, glinting with the light from the outside sun growing low. 

The ring in your hands is frozen, stopping its turning as your pulse soars.

John licks the corner of his mouth, glancing at the item of gold and green. 

“Keep it,” he mutters, tilting his head to the ring. “More of a use to you.” 

Larger fingers capture yours, and in one deft motion, the elegant item is slipped onto your digit, sitting comfortably as if made just for you. 

John shrugs. “The rest of ‘em, too, if you want the damn things.” His blues card over the view of your hand, and imagines fingers filled with every bit of gold and silver obtainable to him, brought up from the ocean just to sit pretty atop your flesh. Necklaces, bracelets, belts, and accessories; the things he’d seen from far distant waters. 

Oh, but they’d pale in comparison to how you would wear them. 

A muse to a song. A painter to a portrait. 

A women to the water.

He’d seen your latest sketches—you’d brought them down to him here—and when you were exploring this cave, he had taken a peak. Unlike him, yes, but there was a pull to it, that parchment bound by leather. He’d not seen anything like it, and as he had watched you work on occasion, he was entranced as he’d listened to you explain it. You’d told him that you could even manipulate color, and that had left his eyes widening in awe.

You were incredible, and when he saw his own likeness littering page after page, John had been unable to take his eyes off of you. A silent appreciation—a voiceless devotion. He’d never been…captured like this, so to speak. A mirror image. Details he didn’t even know himself, and yet there they were. 

Beauty marks across his cheeks and nose, the scars that littered his flesh that he’d all but forgotten about, the list was endless. 

But he looks at you now, and he can understand why there’s a draw to immortalize the mortal. 

His fingers stay at yours, and they brush skin as they dip along your hand, falling to your wrist. You stare up into his eyes, he stares down into yours. There’s little air to be taken in between the two of you. 

“John,” you utter, blue gaze stuck to your lips. 

He hums, tilting his head, his body looming over yours like a shadow. By the time his face is so near to yours, you don’t want to fight it, you don’t want to think about the strangeness of this predicament you’ve found yourself in—a creature living in the cliffs, handsome and half-inhuman.

When smooth lips brush over yours, and your eyelashes begin to flutter, the shouts from outside break whatever spell had just started weaving itself. 

Head snapping up, John’s body tenses as you push upward quickly. Attention slashing to the cave entrance, it’s not long before you realize what’s going on with a sharp breath and a leap to your pulse. 

The smash of something connecting to rocks echoes like a feral killing song. Yells. Yowls. 

“John,” you say hurriedly, flinching from the pain in your throat. Your eyes dart to his tension-ridden form, his arms wrapping above your body. “You need to run,” you choke out. “Go! Quickly!”

You only get a glance, and the clench of his jaw is as stubborn as it always is. Your brain already knows it’s fruitless. He won’t leave you here alone.

“They’ll kill you!” Your hands push at his chest, finger grasping at the bristle of hair to try and shove at an iron will. 

“Stay under me,” John mutters, voice low and nothing more than a chilled order. Yet, even he knows there’s little that he’d be able to do. His eyes flashed to every trinket and bauble he had collected, the new ones he’d yet to show to you, but there was few in the way of weapons. A dagger or two from a trench, a sword from under a ship—a spearhead. All too far away and rusted for it to even matter. 

There was a sharp feeling in John’s chest. A need. An oath that he gave to himself the moment he’d seen the way your little stick could breathe his image onto a sheet made of fibers. 

He was to watch over you whenever you were in his sights, and that had extended itself to gliding through the water as he watched you climb and grunt your way to his cave; a careful eye that he had no need to tell you about. That was just how he was. 

“John!” You try to bark again, growing desperate. 

Yet, it was already too late, and the merman hadn’t shifted even an inch before Noah, Otto, and the Librarian burst through the entrance like bats from hell.  They hold all manner of weapons, though the more you blink in a panic, the less afraid of them you seem, at the very least, the older man and the woman.

Otto held a cut-up and dented club, nothing more than something you’d keep for a home invasion beside the bed—the Librarian, a heavy book that seemed to contain every bit of information available to the world, so large it strained in her hands. Noah, though, was a different story. 

He had a sharp, long knife and eyes that could cut flesh by themselves. 

Half of Mr. Moore’s face was sliced up, cuts leaking blood to the ground—skin hanging and an eye completely poked with glass; shards in its gentle makeup. 

You swallow saliva and stutter through a shaking breath, and John’s glare could burn cities as he feels it reverberating against him. 

“There!” Noah shouts, balking closer. “See! I knew it was here—seducing the next woman to take to the ocean!” 

Your wide eyes try to take it all in, hands slapping the ground sending droplets of collected water flying. John’s face hones in, digging in like how the glass from your brush container had into Noah’s visage, and, somehow, you think that dead stare can cause more damage. Grasping the merman’s waist, you attempt and silently urge him to go. 

“Girl!” Otto calls quickly, eyes darting from you to John and back. Even if you could yell, you’re not sure you would. You wouldn’t even know what to say. “Get away from it!”

“I’d put that down,” John grunts to Noah, disregarding the old man and the librarian entirely. He clenches his jaw. “‘Fore you end up hurting yourself. Leave.”

“Otto,” you start, glancing at the woman beside your friend who looked like she was about to pass out when John had started to speak. The man in question’s face pulls, wrinkles thinning. “You have to listen to me, please, it’s not how Mr. Moore told you—”

“It speaks!” Noah barks, pointing his knife harder at John. “Freak of nature, it already has its hold on her.”

“Oh my,” the Librarian gasps. “Noah, it’s horrible—look at the tail.”

Your eyes flare with rage as John doesn’t react.

“Hey!” You shout, but instantly slap your free hand to your throat, coughing raggedly until your spine hunches. The merman brings you closer, but you’re already pushing until you’re on your feet, stumbling for a moment as John gives you a sharp look.

“You watch your bloody mouth,” you grid out, glaring, whipping your hands to get rid of the water droplets. Noah licks his lips as John grabs onto the back of your knee, fingers resting firmly. Sending a look down to him, your shoulders loosen at the expression he levels. You can almost hear the words.

 Steady. Keep your head on.

Though, a slash of silent pride made your heart stutter a small bit.

Your eyes glint. “Drop your weapons,” your sentence is crackling but nonetheless sharp. “Leave. John is innocent—he told me all of it.” You turn to Otto. “Mr. Moore attacked me in my shop, I smashed a glass container into his head so he would release me.” Otto tenses, club getting strangled by his fingers. 

“Noah killed Eleanor,” you breathe, John’s grip pulling a bit tighter as if sensing something you have yet to see. Noah shifts quickly, boots squeaking along the rock as he growls. 

“Absurd—!”

“He pushed her over the rocks and blamed John when he saw him bringing back her body,” you interrupt as fast as you can, pain bouncing off your throat. “You all saw it on the shore, the lie was simple enough for a man like him. Saying she drowned to a creature.”

It didn’t surprise you that John was quiet, that he was studying more the stance of men instead of talking or trying to defend himself. While he could be hard-headed and stiff, he was never dull—he never missed ques. So when Noah launched himself at you, Otto and the Librarian more confused and concerned than anything, there was only a heavy push on the back of your knee that left you buckling with a gasp, and then the explosion of water as John sent you both quickly to the water.

Hands whipping to snare around the merman’s shoulders, you’re only able to get a quick breath in before you’re completely enveloped in water, with John’s hand setting itself over your mouth just in case. The sudden rush is comparable to a heavy wind, yet far more cold and nearly like a slap to the back of your spine. 

You both disappear into the deep with a spray, Noah’s muffled yells of terror seen far above near the surface, arms captured by the Librarian and Otto—held at his sides. There’s a flash of those dark eyes, horrible things, and then John’s fins hide the rest as they slash through the water. 

When you both resurface, retreating far back near the watery entrance of the cave, John keeps you firmly behind him, your arms around his waist as you gasp for air. He keeps his head slightly turned to the side—always having you in the corner of his vision. Above the spread of his shoulders, you peek softly, legs suspended below. 

“Lier!” Noah screams, face contorted. “She’s lying!”

You look at Otto and see the grim way he’s already looking back, struggling to keep the younger individual from breaking free. He was sensical, but stubborn in his ways. Otto had a choice just as the librarian did—believe a woman who’d been here a year or someone they’d known nearly their entire lives.

“Noah,” Otto grunts, gritting his teeth. “Breathe, boy! Stop spitting, let her speak—”

The knife in Noah’s hands slashes the air, and suddenly there’s a yell from the librarian and a spray of blood. 

“Otto!” You scream, fingers flinching. 

The old man stumbles, hoarsely crying out as he grasps at his neck. Your eyes widen, mouth ajar as John pushes his hand into your head, shoving it into the back of his hair as he watches blankly, eyes glinting with a deadly hate. 

“Don’t move,” he utters quickly, sternly, to you as your breath breaks, mouth slack to stare at nothing. Scales skate your legs, great kelp-like fins curling your ankle. “Keep still. Focus on my words, Love.” Under his breath is a tight, “Fuck!”

John speaks above the gargling—the spillage of blood to stone. He mutters through the screams of the Librarian as Noah slips trying to run to the entrance, scrambling with bulging eyes. 

“Don’t look,” John says to you lowly, shifting his body as he keeps your face hidden away and let him hold you like a corpse to the earth. The sounds…oh, the sounds were horrible. 

But the man holding you tries very hard to hide them.

Your body quivers violently as the slam of a body hits the ground, the frantic calling of the woman still here with the both of you; the loud calls from the fleeing murder outside the walls.

“That’s it,” John’s fast lips are on the top of your head, muttering and trying to make his voice as even as possible. “That’s it, then. Doing good, don’t move until I say so, alright?”

When you don’t answer, only shoving your visage deeper into his neck, his spine-breaking-hold squeezes once, and his pounding heart bounces opposite yours. You don’t have to say you know him to understand that he’s only holding onto a thread of good manners, and that was certainly only for our own sake.

Otto was dead.

John leads you out, the gold and emerald of your ring glinting in the moonlight as he holds your body to his, the powerful make of his tail doing the work as it shines in the water. He leaves you outside, where the still running form of Noah is visible, yet the only person noticing is John himself. Your hands are so shaky that it would be impossible to hold your sketchbook, let alone a pencil. 

John takes one of them as Mr. Moore gets too close to the shoreline, slipping and getting his foot caught in between two stones. He panics, yelling loudly, as water is lapping up to his knee.

“Hey, hey, you hear me?” John asks, uncaring to the man, as he sets you down softly on a flat rock shelf. Fingers move to sit at your chin, and, through tight sniffles, you make delicate eye contact. He blinks, trying a tight smile—a flash nothing more. “There she is. Good...I need you to listen one last time, yeah? Just like before; don’t look until I say so.” Your face creases lightly, blinking through a haze of senses and horror. Otto was dead. 

The man that brought you out on his boat—the man that cooked you fish and acted as if a guardian to you. His cat, who would take care of her? It seemed a silly thought given the circumstances, but you can’t stop your mind from running. The house, the boat, the cat. The blood. 

“There’s nothing out here that can hurt you,” John grunts, grasping your hands and holding them, letting calluses and scars speak. “So long as I’m here, I won’t let it.” 

He nearly growls out the words. In one movement, he puts your hand to his heart, and your brain latches onto the rhythm as your own rampages in your ears. 

Noah is still screaming, but now it’s for help.

John’s voice lowers as he utters, “Hey,” the man licks his lips, eyes dancing to the side every once and a while. You stare, swallowing down bile. He says as fluidly as possible, keeping constant locked gazes. 

“Stay here. I won’t be long.”

Fingers glide down your neck again, feeling that swelling, and just as you register the kiss that’s leveled to your hand, to that gifted ring, John’s already away; his tail slipping over your flesh, fins gripping, writhing with their film. 

Yet, you have no trouble following his advice. 

The rising screams from Mr. Moore are numb to you, and the following wave of water that swallows him is only accented by the hand that grapples for his neck. 

John always seemed the one for revenge.

—

With the Librarian's newfound cooperation, the story became simple. 

Mr. Moore, distraught over the death of his wife, had finally lost it all when down on the beach with Otto, yourself, and the local Librarian—attacking and killing the old man in response to being so near to where he and his wife always traveled to. Afterward, he’d walked into the sea and had taken his own life. 

The authorities weren’t going to dispute it. 

You sold Otto's house a week after his death, seeing as he’d named you the sole inheritor of his estate and belongings. There was no need for two properties, and sitting in that small place was akin to torture. After all, he’d been doing what he thought was right, and dying for a lie is nothing short of cruel to those left behind who knew the truth. 

Harriet stays in the shop with you, where she’ll probably live out the rest of her nine lives peacefully. She’s quite fond of the fireplace. 

Most days, people find you near the water, and it’s something that wasn’t going to change even after Noah’s body was found in the rocks—freakishly close to where Eleanor’s had been. Some were calling it poetic and you’d have to agree…but for different reasons.

“You shouldn’t be giving me all of these,” you huff months later, sitting on the rock looking out over the water. A large collection of John’s trinkets is piled high in a wrapping of seaweed, shining bright as you mess with your pencil, leaning to stare at him.

John’s lips flicker into a smirk. He hums, content to watch you, from where he rests not an inch away. You lean into him, sighing, as the innumerable glinting rings on your fingers shimmer. 

“Want to,” he grumbles. 

Rolling your eyes, you look back down to your book, three of four replicas of the man’s scale pattern sitting, shaded and duplicated—lifelike. His tail sways with the water, half of it lost below. 

Your hands reach for them now, the scales closest to you, and you lightly poke and prod as John grunts above you, silent but willing in a way that speaks volumes. He’d let no one else touch him like this for the rest of his life—the softness of your fingers and the care on your face more precious than gold. You revered that tail of his; as if it gave over magic like a wishing well. 

Shivering, John’s breath hitches as your exploring moves, pushing lightly at where the top of his hips would be.

Your talent was fascinating to him, just as you were. If you wanted to ‘paint’ him, he’d allow you to do all the studies needed. Not only to give you a distraction….but because he can’t bear to be away from you anymore. It makes him nervous, and that in itself is an incredible feat.

“Where do you come from, John,” your question moves the air, and the man moves to pull your jacket higher up your body to stave off the chill. You glance at him, smiling, before your attention returns to your drawings. Sketching more, John resets his lips and tries not to stare at your face. It was getting harder to deny that pull. 

That near kiss.

“No answer, Love.” You stare as he quirks a lip, voice lowering. “I won’t be going back to distant waters anytime soon.”

John glances down at your sketchbook, seeing every scratch and bend of care. The both of you were strange creatures, perhaps. Unique—made for one another despite the obvious. 

He nods his head to it softly. The water laps at your boots from below, but you care little before John shifts your feet carefully further up with a push from his tail. You chuckle at him breathily, face heating.

“Getting water on you, Love,” he breathes. “New painting soon?” John asks when the silence settles once more, with you shifting your legs to sit under you. He still isn’t sure what painting entails, but you had told him that you would show him soon, so he knows to be patient. But yearning for anything regarding you is ingrained into his mind now—instinct.

“Mhm,” you smile softly, sending a look at your paper and the images. A huff escapes your mouth. “I think I’ll make this one a portrait.”

John blinks, tilting his head slightly. “Portrait? Why’s that?” 

Your lips find his, moving back up in an instant. 

For a second, the man’s surprised eyes pull back; only lowering as he hums moments later, fingers curling up under your chin as he sags. Lids flutter closed, and his tail twitches lightly.

“I have a subject that’s caught my eye.” You mutter into his flesh when you pull back, face burning as deep blues sear your mind, turning it into mush. Your skin tingles as chilled digits trail your chin, dripping water down your healed throat.

John watches, lips parted, as you continue on. 

“And I’d be a fool if I let him swim off.”

The both of you were going to be perfectly fine.

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[bucksangel]

milk and honey

pairing: alpha!Steve x alpha!Bucky, alpha!Steve x artist!omega!reader x alpha!bucky (poly)

word count: 7.9k

Summary: “Are you sure about this, Steve?” Bucky just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different. 

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot”

or - alpha’s Bucky and Steve decide to bring an omega into their relationship. 

Warnings: fluff out the assssss, flirting, reader is a little awkward, there are parts where it’s just Steve and Bucky, kissing, omegaverse, bucky is a tease, steve is very fond, handjobs, wet dreams, allusions to sex, 18+

a/n: this fic is dedicated to my heart and soul @buckysbarne

milk and honey masterlist | main masterlist | tip jar

“Hi! How can I help you?” A soft, honeyed voice sounds through the air, flowing up to Steve’s ears and making his skin tingle. He suddenly feels warm all over, and not because of the thick coat covering his broad shoulders to prevent the crisp autumn wind whipping outside from stinging his skin. 

Slowly, he turns around, swallowing thickly at the sight before him.

A beautiful, young Omega with eyes that sparkle in the natural sunlight that shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her hair is pulled away from her face as best as possible and there are splatters of paint on the apron wrapped around her torso, as well as specks on her fingers. And her scent, oh God, the scent wafting up to his nostrils makes him want to rumble and puff out his chest, lavender and vanilla mixed with something undeniably and uniquely sweet that makes it hard for him to not lean forward and bury his face in the Omegas neck.

“Um, sir?” The Omega asks again, brows furrowed.

“S-Sorry, I, uh…” Steve trails off, clearing his throat. “I’m looking to get back into drawing, and I saw your studio as I was walking back to my apartment and thought I’d come in to see what you have.”

The Omega nods, a bright smile stretching across her face. “Well, I can show you around if you want? Do you have any specific mediums or pencils you were thinking of?”

Steve nods, a smile of his own now etched onto his face. “Yeah, that’d – that would be great. And, um, I don’t really know what I’m looking for. I used to draw with charcoal pencils, but I kind of want to branch out, you know?”

She nods again, her smile widening. “Yeah! Here,” she turns and waves her hand, indicating for Steve to follow her, “I have a bunch of different kinds of paper, and pens, we also have canvases, oh! And paints are over here.”

Steve trails behind her dumbly, nodding along to everything the pretty Omega says and listening to every word that spills out from her glossy lips – and for a moment he wonders if it’s flavored, cherry maybe, then thinks of kissing them to find out.

He doesn’t do that. Of course not. He’s only just met her, yet there’s already just something about her that makes him swoon. She makes him feel alive, like only Bucky can.

Suddenly, though, he’s slamming into her, not having realized she’d stopped in front of him until it was too late. But before she could fall back, Steve reaches for her hips to keep her upright.

The Omega squeals and grasps Steve’s biceps to steady herself. But, even after they’re both back in place, neither one of them removes their hold on the other. It’s silent for a moment, growing tense as Steve stares down at the pretty Omega he’s now holding. And the Omega, this beautiful little thing, is staring back up at him, mouth opening and closing as though she’s trying to find her words. 

And after a few more tense moments, she finds them.

“S-Sir?”

“Steve,” he says quickly. “Um, my name is Steve.”

__________

“My name is Steve.”

Steve.

This man, Steve, is still holding on to your hips, and you can’t help but lightly squeeze his biceps, trying your hardest to not let out another squeak. He’s just so… manly. With his big, capable hands, biceps that you can feel through his coat, and his mouthwatering scent - bergamot and patchouli. There’s also an underlying smell of pure Alpha, the aura that surrounds this man would naturally pull any sane Omega in its orbit.

It takes a moment, but you’re able to snap out of your trance long enough to mumble your name. This makes Steve smile, repeating your name softly before squeezing at your hips and realizing, all at once, how little space there is between you two. Some part of your hindbrain wants to whine at the thought of leaving his space, but you pull away, nonetheless.

“Um, I-“ You try to think of something to say, something to make things a little less tense, and when you glance to your right you see a variety of canvases and remember that you’re at work.

“So, uh, were you thinking of any… pencils you might want?”

Steve clears his throat and nods, smiling at you again.

“Whatever you think is best.”

And that’s how Steve bought way more than you suspect he’ll actually use. But just as he finishes paying, you start fiddling with your fingers, swallowing thickly. You want to say something, maybe give him a reason to come back so you can bask in his presence again. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“I’m hosting an art class in a couple of weeks! And, um, if - if you want to come then I can give you a flyer.”

The smile that Steve gives you is bright, and he starts nodding his head before you even finish the sentence.

“Yeah!” Steve coughs, trying - and failing - to cover up any semblance of desperation in his tone. “That sounds fun.”

You smile at him, your heart beating ever faster. Christ, anyone would think you’d never met an Alpha before. Steve opens his mouth, ready to say something until his phone starts ringing.

His soft sigh is barely audible, grumbling about ‘bad timing.” When he pulls his phone out, he looks up at you with a remorseful smile,

“Sorry, guess I have to go now.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s fine. Here’s the flier.”

“Of course,” Steve says softly, then takes the paper and gives you a wave before turning and walking out of the store.

____________

The door nearly slams open, Steve cringing as he remembers not to use so much strength when nudging the door open with his elbow. But, hey, he has his arms full of art supplies so he can’t use his hands.

“Babe? What’s with all the noise – what the fuck?” Bucky asks incredulously, hands placed on his hips as he stops a few feet from the front door.

“Oh, hey. Do you mind helping me out?” Steve asks with a chuckle, walking further into the apartment and shutting the door with a push of his foot. Bucky sighs but walks towards him with an outstretched arm anyway.

“So,” Bucky says, grabbing a few of the bags and bringing them to the living room. “What’s all this?”

“Oh…” Steve trails off, placing the rest of the bags onto the couch and fiddling with the end of his shirt nervously. “Well, I went to the new art studio that’s down the block.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Bucky laughs, peeking into one of the bags and raising an eyebrow. “Did you buy out the whole store?”

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. “No, I didn’t, thank you very much. I just want to start drawing again, you know that.”

“I do,” Bucky confirms with a nod. “But I feel like you’re hiding something from me considering you hate oil paints and yet there are several different kinds in here.”

Right then Steve’s heartbeat speeds up, his face warming. And he silently curses himself for being so easy to make flustered. Especially considering Bucky, his mate, can feel through their bond that Steve’s nervous.

“Well, you see-“ Steve coughs, bringing up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “I was talking with the owner and she… God, Buck, I think she might be… we’ve been talking about maybe courting an Omega. And I think she could be what we’re looking for. She’s so sweet, so beautiful, just so… perfect. And her scent, oh God. Other than yours, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelt.”

For a minute Bucky doesn’t say anything, his hands return to his hips as he thinks over Steve’s words carefully. After all, they have talked about courting an Omega, they’ve even talked to a few, but none had ever gone far. They just haven’t seemed to find the perfect one for them, so Bucky is naturally a little skeptical. But then he looks into Steve’s eyes, he sees how they sparkle, the way his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, and the sincerity in his voice just seems to win him over.

“Are you sure about this, Stevie?” Bucky asks skeptically, but he just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different.

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot.”

____________

Three days later it’s another chilly day, the clouds hanging overhead and the light rain have sucked all the warmth out of the air. The heater in the studio is on low, yet high enough to warm the space comfortably without it being too overwhelming.

Due to the rain and cold, there weren’t many people in the studio. In fact, it’s just you. There have been only a handful of customers coming in today, so you sent your coworker, Tori, to the back so she could study.

And since everything had been organized and cleaned over an hour ago you find yourself sitting at your easel, tongue poking out of your mouth and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You’ve been here for the last hour, so focused on your painting that you don’t hear the bell ring above the door.

You also don’t hear the footsteps approaching behind you, so you can’t help but let out a slight scream whenever someone taps on your shoulder. Jumping in shock, it takes everything you have to not knock into your easel.

“Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Comes a voice from behind you, deep and soothing. And you can feel your heartbeat increase further, and not because of the scare. No, this man, clearly an Alpha, has a voice that makes you nearly weak in the knees.

Turning, your eyes widen. The most handsome man stands in front of you, wearing a tight red Henley under a leather jacket. His gloved hands rest on your forearms, helping you off your stool in such a way that you don’t knock over your painting. The man’s hands are huge, able to encompass your entire forearm and then some.

It takes a moment to realize that you’re staring, mouth parted and face flushed as you step back to a respectful distance.

“N-no, it’s fine! I should have been paying attention,” You clear your throat to hide the fact that your voice wavers a bit, but the stranger’s smile lets you know that it didn’t work.

You can’t help it though. His smile, though small, is comforting and kind. His deep blue eyes twinkle with mischief, and you can’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks. His beard isn’t thick per se, but just thick enough to complete his rugged look, something that makes you melt. But you kick those thoughts out of your head to the best of your ability until you’re finally able to speak.

“How can I help you?”

____________

“How can I help you?”

Bucky gets it, understands what Steve was saying about the pretty Omega he thought would be perfect for them. He’s heard only a handful of words come out of your mouth, yet he feels his chest tighten, his heart clenching as he exercises a considerable amount of restraint from encasing you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

His hands itch to touch you, to run them over your soft-looking skin. And he can’t help the less innocent thoughts that cross his mind, really feeling your body, caressing. And, to be quite honest, these… intense emotions kind of startle him, because the only person he’s ever felt this way with was Steve.

Nevertheless, he follows his instincts, something deep in him knows that Steve was right when he said you’d be perfect for them.

“I’m waiting for my…” Bucky trails off, thinking about whether he should tell you he has a mate or not, then decides against it. If you knew he wasn’t single you probably wouldn’t be open to his advances, and would probably think it’s weird for a mated Alpha to be flirting with you. After all, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common, and, to be honest, they can be a little intense together.

“My friend. And I haven’t seen this studio before.” Bucky gives you a cheeky smile, trying not to laugh as he sees you fiddling with your fingers, glancing down as though you’re avoiding his gaze.

“I’m Bucky,” He reaches his hand out, letting you slowly put yours in his before he squeezes lightly, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand.

You give him your name with a squeak, flushed and nervous in a good way.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” you’re stumbling over your words slightly, and Bucky really can’t stop himself from smiling.

“And it’s lovely to meet you, darling.” Bucky holds his breath, cautiously waiting for your reaction toward the pet name. But it seems like he doesn’t have to worry, because the tiny squeak of delight that spills from your lips confirms to him that you’re, at the very least, open to his advances.

“S-so, um. Did you want to look around?”

Bucky smiles, shaking his head and finally releasing your hand. “The main reason I stepped in here was that I saw the poster in the window about an art class you’re hosting soon. I thought I’d come in so you can meet your new student.”

“Oh!” You smile brightly, wiping your hands along the front of your apron. “I’d love it if you could come! To be honest, I’ve only had a handful of people confirm that they will. I was kind of thinking of canceling, honestly.”

“Oh, don’t do that. There are plenty of people who’d love to come, your business is new so it’s going to take some time for your clientele to grow. Plus, I’ll be sure to tell all of my friends.” While he already hates the idea of other people - especially his unmated Alpha friends - getting personal time with you, he also hates how dejected you sounded about possibly canceling the class.

“Oh, gosh,” Your voice is soft, your eyes twinkling in the bright, natural light. “Well, that’d be very kind of you.”

Bucky chuckles, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Plus, it’ll be nice to see you again.”

Once again, a small noise from the back of your throat makes its way up and out of your mouth. And he can hear your heartbeat speed up, can see the look of embarrassment clear on your face.

And just as you’re about to reply, Bucky’s phone dings. He sighs, pulling it out and glancing down at it.

“Well, I’m sorry to do this, but I have to go now,” He smirks at you, giving you a wink so slight you’d miss it if you weren't staring directly into his eyes.

You nod, giving him a shy and awkward smile. “No, it’s fine! Besides, I’ll see you at the class, right?”

“Oh,” Bucky chuckles, placing one of his gloved hands on your forearm and squeezing tenderly, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

____________

“Who the fuck was that?” A voice behind you says, and when you turn you see it’s Tori looking exasperated.

“I have no idea,” Your voice is small, still unbelieving of what just happened. Your arm still tingles from where he squeezed. You then turn to look back toward the door, a tiny part of you wishing he’d come back in.

“Why do you get all the flirty Alphas? I want my turn!” Her comment makes you laugh, and you can see a hint of a smile cracking through her faux-angered expression. 

“They’re bringing their friends to the art class, maybe you’ll meet one too. Besides…” You trail off bringing your hand up to rub your arm. “Maybe he wasn’t even flirting? I mean, I haven’t lived here long, but a lot of the Alphas that come in here are really nice. Like Steve!”

You were hoping to convince not only her but yourself as well, desperately trying not to read too far into their actions. They could just be friendly, a little touchy but not overbearingly so. Whatever the case, Tori lightly smacks your arm.

“Babe, Steve was flirting with you too.” She rolls her eyes, placing her hands on your shoulders. “You may be shy, but you’re not stupid. They like you! And you need to accept that and go for it.”

“Okay, let’s say they do like me… there’s two of them and one of me. I don’t know if I’d be able to choose between them, especially since I don’t even know them. I wouldn’t want to lead one of them on.” Sighing, your eyebrows furrow, now fiddling with your fingers in anxiety.

Because, let’s be honest, you’re not one hundred percent certain that they were, in fact, flirting with you. Maybe they really are just being nice, maybe that’s how they are with a lot of people. Because Alphas like them don’t like Omegas like you; shy, awkward, introverted, too easily flustered, and so clumsy that there is absolutely no way you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of them at some point.

But it’s fine, because maybe they won’t show up to the class, maybe they’ll have to cancel and you can stay within your comfort zone. Change is scary, meeting new people and - possibly - dating them is scary, and you’ve never really been one to take risks.

Maybe that’s why part of you is hoping they’re not actually interested. However, you cannot deny the fact you’re interested in them. But, if things happen you want them to happen naturally, yet from beside you, Tori hums thoughtfully. In the seconds of silence that follows you know she’s planning on meddling. But before you can tell her to please not do that, she claps her hands together.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll help.” With that, she turns and goes back to the back office, leaving you to stew in your thoughts.

____________

Bucky coughs, clearing his throat, then chuckles when Steve jumps in surprise. One of Bucky’s hands settles on his mate’s waist while looking at the bag of food in Steve’s hand.

“You get everything?”

Steve scoffs, moving Bucky’s hand off of his waist and lacing their fingers together. And as they start walking Bucky can hear his mate’s heartbeat pick up, and he smiles to himself. “Yeah, I did. Now…” Steve trails off, running his tongue over his bottom lip before biting it. Bucky squeezes his hand in comfort.

“How did it go?”

Bucky hums, cheeks reddening as he remembers your sweet voice and beautiful smile. While he is able to steel his exterior and become this suave Alpha, he’s really just a teddy bear on the inside. He craves love, he craves touch. And while he loves Steve with everything he has, he has to admit that, even though he’s just met you, he knows you’ll be able to give him the same feelings Steve does.

“God, Stevie…” Bucky sighs, looking over at his love. “I get it. I get what you were saying about her. She’s just - just the loveliest Omega I’ve ever met. And, I swear to God, I wanted to just wrap her in my arms. She might be right for us, Stevie.”

Steve chuckles, his eyes sparkling with joy at hearing his mate confirm his instinct that you’d be perfect for them. One block later they get to their apartment, go inside, and set the food down on the table.

“So, how do you want to approach her about it?” Steve asks as he grabs the plates while Bucky gets out the food.

“Well, she said that she’s hosting an art class, we can go to that.”

“I don’t know, babe,” Steve sighs, setting the plates down and sitting in his chair. “Don’t you think that would be a little… intense? Plus, it’s not common for two Alphas to be mated to each other, what if she’s uncomfortable with it?”

Bucky nods, grabbing drinks and setting one down in front of the other man. “Well, we’ll just talk to her one at a time then. We’ll go in on different days and get her to warm up to us before then.” At Steve’s pensive sigh, Bucky crouches, placing one hand on the back of his neck.

He knows Steve really wants this to work out. He’s a true romantic, and anyone who has ever met Steve knows within the first thirty seconds of talking to him that Bucky is the love of his life. He also knows Steve sometimes needs more, and it’s become worse the more potential mates they meet. And Bucky will be damned if he doesn’t give Steve everything he wants and needs.

“It’s going to be fine, Stevie.” Bucky then leans forward, placing a soft and lingering kiss on the other man’s lips. And he keeps kissing him until Steve hums against his lips.

“You promise?” Steve mumbles softly, eyes still closed.

“I promise.”

____________

Ever since the day you met Bucky, he’s been coming to your studio more and more. Only buying a few items at a time, some of which you’re pretty sure he’s not actually interested in, though he spends most of his time talking to you. And it’s a give-and-take with the conversation. Sometimes Bucky will ask a question and you’ll ramble for twenty minutes on the subject before realizing and promptly shutting your mouth.

Then there are times when Bucky is more so talking at you. Sometimes you just get so anxious that you get a little quiet, deathly afraid of saying anything embarrassing to the very handsome Alpha who likes to spend his time talking with you of all people.

And it’s confusing. And getting harder and harder to convince yourself that the Alpha has no intentions other than simply getting to know you. Every smile he gives you makes you weak in the knees, the way his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches just make you want to melt.

Not to mention the subtle touches every so often. Whether it’s by stepping around you down one of the aisles and placing his hand on your waist to “steady you” should you fall, or by letting his hand graze yours for longer than it should when you hand him his bags, he’s gotten steadily more forward, though none of it is unwelcome. And maybe he can tell by each of your surprised yet pleased squeaks you let out whenever he shows off how good of an Alpha he is - including but not limited to doing the heavy lifting when you have to move some products onto the sales floor, bringing you coffee after you offhandedly mentioned your favorite cafe, and telling you about how he’s fixed up his motorcycle from the ground up, wordlessly showing that he’s mechanically and physically capable.

And on the sixth visit, exactly three days before your class, Bucky comes in once more at exactly noon. He tends to come in around your lunch break, knowing that you typically just paint in the studio while slowly taking bites of whatever food you brought. You’re in the back office sorting through some paperwork when you hear the bell ding above the front door. You don’t worry about going out to greet whoever just came in since Tori was there helping out.

You hear her chipper “Hi! How are you?” and for a moment your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Because who could she possibly be talking to that warrants a little too much enthusiasm?

The voice that responds makes your heart beat a tiny bit faster, the low and raspy tone saying something about visiting a ‘friend’. And then it hits you, it’s Bucky.

Another thought hits you mere seconds later, fuck, Tori’s out there.

And just as that crosses your mind you can hear Tori ask him, “So, you’re Bucky, right?”

Before you have time to think you’re rushing out of the back office, doing your best to listen to their conversation as you speed down the hall.

Bucky chuckles, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he responds “Yeah, how’d you know?”

You can also tell Tori is smiling when she starts talking again. “Oh, I’ve heard about you once or twice. My friend is the owner of this place, the one you’ve been flirting with, you know?”

You finally turn the corner and face the pair, Tori’s back to you while Bucky looks back at you. You can’t miss the wide smirk on his lips, his pleased scent slowly pouring out from him.

“Yeah? I’ve been flirting?” Bucky winks at you over Tori’s shoulder, apparently finding humor in watching you get flustered.

“Mhm,” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know, from what she says, I think you like her. And she -” Suddenly she’s being cut off by your hand slapping over her mouth, appearing behind her and grasping her arm with your other hand.

“Okay! That’s it, you have to study!” You snap, glancing up at Bucky’s amused face for half a second before turning Tori around and shoving her toward the back office. “And don’t come out until you’re done with all three chapters!”

Tori huffs then rolls her eyes and trails off, leaving you and Bucky alone. And you feel like you’re on fire, like there’s no part of you that isn’t burning to the touch. Subconsciously your fingers start fiddling with each other, and you can’t bring yourself to look the Alpha in the eye.

“Hey,” He says softly, though still humorous. “It’s okay. She was right, you know?”

You hum in confusion, finally looking up at him even though it takes a lot of willpower to not look away. “What do you mean?”

“I was flirting with you. Is that okay?”

You’re no longer burning up, no. You’re ice cold now. It’s almost as if you’ve fallen into the seas surrounding the Antarctic and everything seems to slow down. Bucky’s been flirting with you? An Alphas been flirting with you? This Alpha? Your heart wants to beat out of your chest and your skin tingles, what are you going to do? What are you going to say?

“Oh.” Apparently, that’s all you can decide on, though you’re snapped out of your haze upon seeing Bucky’s face fall slightly. “No! It’s - I mean, it’s o-okay, if you… you know, are.” Internally you cringe, of all times to trip over your words, it just has to be now.

“Well, I’m glad.” Bucky smiles again, and you find yourself getting lost in his eyes, in the soft gaze and deep ocean-blue hue. A squeak escapes your lips knowing that his fond expression is directed at and because of you.

“I can’t stay long today, unfortunately. But…” Bucky trails off, slipping your hand into his and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “I just wanted to come by and ask if I could treat you to lunch after the class on Saturday.”

“Like… like a - a date?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. Your head is spinning, and you’re positive that Bucky can tell your nerves are building.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a date. Even though I’d very much like it to be.” Bucky smiles, giving you his best puppy dog eyes, earning him a soft yet cautious giggle.

Now, you’re not too sure what to do. Over the past week or so that you’ve known him you’ve become enamored with him. You enjoy his company, he makes you feel safe, and the fact that he listens to your rambling with rapt attention makes you preen.

But, you have to take a moment to gather your thoughts. Because mere hours ago Steve had come in asking the same question - though he had suggested dinner.

Steve has also been coming in quite frequently, though he mostly spends time with you as you paint. He comes in first thing in the morning, knowing that your business is usually slower so he can have more of your attention.

He’s not as forward as Bucky is, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t shown any interest. His approach is more careful; lingering glances, not-so-subtly checking you out whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention, the way his gaze drops to your lips every so often whenever you’re speaking to him. Not to mention the way he always compliments your artwork. It’s all so… charming.

His mischievous yet chivalrous persona could pull anyone in, including you. Not to mention, Steve’s bright smile and deep laugh just make your inner Omega want to tilt your head and bare your neck to him.

Interactions with him give you similar feelings when you’re with Bucky, making everything overwhelmingly confusing. Because, like you told Tori, you’d hate to lead one of them on, but you can already tell you’re developing romantic feelings for both Alphas.

And hours ago you’d given Steve a timid ‘yes’ when he asked you out. What are you supposed to do? Suddenly, your lonely inner Omega forcefully pushes its way past all of your negative thoughts and ever-growing anxiety to give Bucky the same answer.

“Okay.” Despite your inner turmoil, Bucky’s bright smile and unfairly cute nose scrunch settle any nerves you’ve been feeling.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, hopeful.

“Yes, I-I’d love to go on a… date. With you.” This time you can’t stop the way you physically cringe at your awkwardness, though Bucky only seems to find it endearing because he laughs softly.

“Awesome,” Bucky breathes out, giving you the softest gaze you’ve ever received, and the amount of restraint it takes for you to not melt into his arms is astounding. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you Saturday, yeah?”

“Y-yeah! Of course,” Your voice goes a little high. Jesus Christ, why does he have to be so charming?

At that, the Alpha brings your hand up to his lips at the same time he leans forward and presses a lingering, gentle kiss to your knuckles, looking you in the eye all the while. And the squeak that escapes your lips would almost embarrass you if you weren’t having an out-of-body experience.

“Okay, darling.”

Bucky releases your hand, walks back a few steps, gives you a wink, and then turns around to leave, sparing you one last glance before exiting.

____________

Soft. Warm. Gentle.

Everything is coated in golden honey, cotton-candy clouds, an ever-flowing river.

It’s ecstasy, his body aflame as it moves, rocking forward, pulling back, then pushing forward again. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and short and breathy gasps fill his ears as grunts and groans travel up his throat and out of his mouth.

Steve’s eyes open, and the view makes his heart want to stop.

It’s you, with your arms above your head, body bare to him and, wait. Someone’s behind him. The person's strong arms wrap around his waist and his muscled chest presses against his back, and then a metal hand turns his head to the left. And there’s Bucky, his Alpha. Bucky presses a filthy kiss to his lips while the brunette’s hands rest on his hips, aiding in their movement. With a quick smack to his backside, Steve gets back into the action, grinding his hips against your pelvic bone before slowly pulling out. The force of the forward thrust of his hips causes you to shriek, your breasts bouncing wildly as he continues his harsh thrusts.

It takes no time at all for Steve to feel his knot throb, threatening to expand and lock into your sweet pussy as he fills you with his cum. He’s close. Oh so fucking close when you moan.

“Alpha!”

Steve wakes with a gasp, his eyes flying open and heart racing as he tries in vain to cling onto any remnants of sleep, desperately hoping to finish the dream - his first wet dream in a while.

“Stevie?” Bucky appears from his left, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping from the shower. “You okay, Alpha?”

Steve shudders, the way you sweetly moaned for him, for your Alpha, coming to the front of his mind, and his cock throbs in a rude reminder of his current predicament.

“Y-yeah, I’m, fuck…” Steve trails off, his hand sneaking under the covers and grasping the base of his cock. “I’m good, baby. Just…”

“Just had a wet dream?” Bucky chuckles, walking over to their bed and sitting sideways on it so he can face Steve and run a hand through his already messed-up hair. “I could hear you whimpering from the shower.”

Bucky then flings the covers back, shooing Steve’s hand away from his cock so Bucky can grasp it. “I heard you whining for her, our sweet little Omega. She’s perfect, isn’t she? She’s so small compared to us, bet we’d break her the first time we get our knots in her perfect pussy.”

Bucky’s hand is jerking Steve off in earnest, his grip is tight as he strokes and pulls and flicks his wrist every so often. And Steve is helpless but to let him, to listen to his mate spout filth of how well you’d take them, how sweet you’d be for them, how he’d let Steve be the first to take you. He takes everything he’s given, gripping the sheets tight enough that he’s sure they're tearing, letting his pleasure climb higher and higher by the second.

But what really sets him off is Bucky’s growl, “I had to jerk myself off in the shower just listening to you moan for our Omega.” Steve cums with a shout, his eyes clenching shut, and he’d be embarrassed about how fast he came if it weren’t for the extremely vivid dream he just woke up from.

It takes a few moments for Steve to get his bearings until he’s finally able to open his eyes and meet Bucky’s playful gaze. Steve wants to feel bad about dreaming about you when you’re not even theirs, but he just can’t bring himself to do so. Just thinking of you made him shoot off like a rocket, he doesn’t really know how he’s going to handle actually being with you.

But they hadn’t even taken you on a date yet, and they both get the feeling it might take a while before you feel comfortable enough to give yourself over to them like that. But that doesn’t matter, because Steve is sure that he and Bucky will wait however long is needed for you to feel comfortable like that with them.

“So,” Bucky says with a smirk, bringing his hand up to lick Steve’s cum off of his hand. Steve groans in response. “You feelin’ better about today?”

Ever since they both asked you out neither has gone back to your studio, they didn’t want to make you anxious since they knew they both asked you out and you might get even more conflicted if you saw them again since then. Steve’s been worried. He doesn’t want to back out, God no. He just… he really wants this to work out. And every awful scenario keeps playing in his mind on a loop.

What if you get too overwhelmed with both of them together? What if you turn them down when you realize they’re mated? What if you’re disgusted and don’t even want to be their friend? What if -

“Stevie.” Bucky’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and Steve sighs. “Stop thinking too hard, it’s going to be fine.”

“But-”

“No, Steve.” Bucky sighs and gets off the bed, then he crouches down so his face is level with his mate’s. “I promised you, didn’t I? I promised that everything would work out and I’m going to fulfill that promise today. We’re going to go to the class, explain everything to her, and ask her out together.”

Bucky pauses to lean forward and press a kiss to Steve’s lips.

“She likes you, baby. And she likes me. That’s why she agreed to go out with us. It might be a little weird for her since two mated Alphas aren't common, especially since she doesn’t seem used to Alphas flirting with her at all. But, it’s going to be okay in the end. Everything will work out.”

Bucky kisses Steve again, and Steve gives his Alpha a gentle smile.

“I love you, Alpha.”

Bucky smiles back and says, “I love you too, Alpha.”

____________

“Okay, okay, okay,” You mumble to yourself, running your hands down the front of your apron for the hundredth time. “Everything is going to be okay. They don’t know you’re going out with both of them, everything is going to be fine.”

Sighing, you mumble another ‘I can do this’ before turning around, jumping in shock when you see Tori standing in front of you.

“Jesus Christ, Tori! Warn a girl, will you?”

Tori laughs, smirking. “Sorry, I just thought I’d tell you that your Alpha, Bucky, is here with some friends but I didn’t want to interrupt your pep-talk.”

Oh shit, in your panic you didn’t even realize your class starts in less than ten minutes. But then you realize a certain word she used. Your Alpha.

“He’s not my Alpha. He’s just… an Alpha that happens to like me and wants to take me on a date.”

Your eyes widen in horror, because the realization that you’re actually going on a date with him, and, separately, Steve, in just a few hours is hitting you in full force.

Oh God, how am I going to survive today?

Tori pulls you out of your thoughts, literally, by grabbing your bicep and leading you out of the back office.

“Whatever you say, babe. Now, let’s not keep him waiting.”

When you get to the studio part of your store you see him, well, them. It’s Bucky, surrounded by about ten other people, all talking and laughing. Wow, he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d bring all of his friends.

There are about five other people milling about, looking at all the different canvases and paints available for the class. It makes you happy that you had so many people show up, even if most of them probably had to be convinced to come.

There’s just one person missing; Steve. It’s only two minutes from twelve, and you can’t help the disappointment at the fact that he probably forgot or, worse, was just joking about being interested in you and doesn’t actually want to see you.

It hurts you, deeper than it probably should, but you mask the hurt when you get up to Bucky and his friends.

“Um, hi, Bucky,” You say softly, glancing over at his friends all looking at you with knowing smirks.

“Ah!” The Alpha says, smiling widely at you. “Hello, darling.”

It takes everything in you for you to not melt right into the floor, both from embarrassment from having his friends chuckle in amusement as well as his smooth yet low tone directed at you.

You turn slightly to the group of people behind him, all giving you amused expressions and small waves. You wave back at them with an awkward smile, then turn back to the Alpha in front of you. “Um, I… It’s nice of you to come.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Bucky winks at you, and you press your lips shut so as to not let out the high-pitched whine that wants to be set free.

After a tense few seconds of silence, Tori appears from beside you. “I hate to break up your moment but it’s time to start.”

“Oh! R-right.” Your heart is racing ever so slightly, but it’s also hurting. Because it seems like Steve really did bail.

That is until you ask everyone to sit wherever they want. Bucky sits at the front, taking the easel closest to you. His friends and the other patrons all sit as well, and one spot remains open, right next to Bucky.

The bell above the door dings, and your head whips up to see the Alpha in question rushing through the door. He gives you a wide smile, and immediately makes his way to the empty seat.

Fuck.

“Sorry I’m late, I got held up.”

“No, it’s - it’s fine!” Your heart rate increases again, and you don’t know how you’re going to survive this class, especially considering Bucky is already giving you a heady gaze.

“O-okay, everyone, let’s get started.”

Surprisingly, the class goes by pretty smoothly. However, the intense stares from both Steve and Bucky, as well as their smirks and Bucky’s occasional winks, make you stutter over your words every once in a while. That would cause Bucky’s friends to snicker and smirk. Though it seems relatively harmless, simply finding amusement in watching you get flustered over flirting with Bucky but not with any malice.

Still, it’s going well.

It’s not until you tell everyone to put down their brushes that your nerves return, hoping that Steve won’t stick around and you can just meet him at the diner he suggested.

But, fate has other plans. Because Bucky’s friends stand and choose to hang around the window, looking at some of your other displayed paintings. The others came up to you with thanks, complimenting your work as well as your teaching skills, all of which make you smile so wide you’d think it’d hurt.

But then they leave, and after the last lone customer leaves, you turn and see, oh no. Fuck. Steve and Bucky are talking, laughing, standing way too close to one another for two people who don’t know each other. You’re standing by your easel still, eyes locked on to them, frozen. Because you have a strange inkling that they do actually know each other, which would mean that they would know you’re going on a date with both of them.

Then why would they ask you out if that were the case?

It takes everything in you not to run away when Bucky turns to face you with a wide smile, Steve turning next and smiling too.

“Hey, darling,” Bucky says, walking toward you when he realizes you’re frozen in place. He stops in front of you, and Steve follows his lead and stands next to him. They look at each other for a moment, Steve nodding his head once before Bucky turns to you and opens his mouth.

But you’re panicking. Because you’ve already decided that they’ve just now found out and are going to cancel the dates and maybe insult you for accepting a date from both of them. Even though, logically, you know they would never say anything even remotely rude to you, your anxiety is telling you that they would. They will. So you take it upon yourself to apologize.

“Guys, I-I am so sorry! I know I shouldn’t have accepted a date with both of you but I really, really like both of you and I didn’t know how to choose because I don’t want to choose between you two because you’re both really nice and amazing and I know it sounds awful that I want both of you when you’re probably not even interested anymore because why w-”

“Darling!” Bucky cuts you off, placing a warm hand on your bicep, squeezing it once, and then running his hand down your arm until he can take your hand in his.

“It’s okay, honey,” Steve says, bringing up a hand to gently turn your head to face him more directly.

“I-It… It is?”

They both give each other another glance while they chuckle to themselves. Steve takes your other hand, slowly rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“We have something to tell you, darling.” Bucky sighs, then clears his throat. “We… planned this. We didn’t want to tell you upfront because we didn’t want to scare you away, because we really like you too. We’re… Steve and I are…” He trails off, and now his nerves are swirling deep in his stomach. Steve steps in for him though.

“We’re mates. And we know it’s not common, and two Alphas with an Omega isn’t common either, so we didn’t want to be too overbearing by flirting with you together. We’ve been wanting to court an Omega together so we wanted you to get to know us individually so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed because we can be… a lot. We’re sorry we lied.”

By the time they’re done speaking, you think you’re dreaming. No, you’re positive you’re dreaming. They’re mates? And, as Steve said, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common. Even still, that doesn’t bother you. You’re big on doing what you want as long as no one is getting hurt. And you can understand why they didn’t want to approach you together, because, yeah, even just being in both of their presences makes your heart race and stutter.

But, they both want you? Like, together? They want to court you and maybe bring you into their relationship? It’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship, and even then it was with a Beta, so you can’t even imagine how dating two Alphas would be.

“Oh.” Smart. Really fucking clever. God, why can’t you just say anything?

“Do you… Do you not want to date us?” Steve sounds disappointed, sad. And the way he frowns makes you mentally slap yourself out of your haze.

“No! I- I do! I just… I’ve never dated two Alphas. I don’t mind that you’re mated, really. I’m just not used to…” You trail off, biting your lip and glancing down, realizing that they still have hold of your hands. It makes your skin tingle, their large and warm hands fill your entire body with fire, and the smile that returns to Steve’s face makes you smile too.

“You’re not used to what?” Bucky asks, squeezing your hand.

“To being wanted this much, I guess.”

You miss the way both Alphas look at each other with furrowed eyebrows, both men frowning now.

“How about this,” Steve says, bringing up his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him. “We’ll cancel the dates for today. And we can go on one tomorrow, together. All of us. And if you think it over more tonight and decide you don’t want to anymore, then that is okay. But we really do like you, honey.”

Well, you’d never stood a chance against them from the very first meetings, so there’s not really a doubt in your mind that you do want to go on that date, it’s just your anxiety that’s causing you to doubt their feelings.

But Tori’s voice pops up in the back of your head telling you to stop overthinking, to just take a chance. So, that’s what you do.

“O-okay. Tomorrow is good.”

Both Alphas smile, simultaneously sighing in relief at your words. Bucky then releases your hand so he can pull out his phone, unlock it, then hand it to you.

“Here, we’re going to go but you can give me your number so we can talk over more details before tomorrow.”

You do so, typing in your number and watching with dazed eyes as they gather their things to leave. And when they’re about to leave, both men make quick moves of kissing each of your cheeks before retreating with charming smiles.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, darling?” Bucky asks, only leaving when you give him a nod and a wide smile.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

tagging: @the-ginger-fairy-artist / @supernovatardis / @perdidosbucky-yyo / @wckedheart / @kandis-mom / @meteorshowercoffee / @wandaneedstherapy / @buckysbarne / @bigcreatorwombatdreamer / @p1ut0smoon / @venusfly11 / @buckybarnesmetalarmswife775 / @the-photo-hoe / @clownsbf / @matsumama / @fandoms-writings / @thornsnvultures / @sadboiabby / @lily-excal / @alright-i-guesss / @blondie-bluue / @loveforreading / @marvel-wifey-86 / @wheezy-stucky / @exposition-belongs-somewhere / @sweater-bee / @stuckysbike / @lovelylittleleigh / @buckyshbic / @starkblackwolf / @caitlink26 / @dreaming-potato / @emeraldfairy23 / @lethargicluv / @perfectlyboring / @glistenuplove / @monicachic13 / @bbellen1411 / @akmenia / @shawnftjacob / @ladyravenclaw / @sadsadbabygirlrob / @hc-kerr / @iamfandomwasted / @sweetmoonlove0214 / @yesprettypleasesir / @duckies16 / @wizardofstories / @emerald-writes / @xonickibaby / @matchat3a

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #stucky #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #stevebucky #stucky imagine #stucky x reader imagine #stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #alpha!bucky #alpha!steve #alpha!stucky #my writing

[readychilledwine]

The Story of Us

Summary - After Nyx is given a school project on his family, the Inner Circles Quad is stuck trying to explain their love life to their nephew.

Prompt Day 1 - Beginnings

Warnings - Nyx is smart and sassy, flashbacks, kind of forced mating bond, jealousy and fighting, rough patches before a happy ending, slightly implied smut

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek

This is based on one of my friends having to explain this similar situation to her daughters. We, as a society, could do so much for eliminating stereotypes in the poly community if we openly discussed it and normalized it with kids. Her daughters have been raised in a household with a Quad and see the love their parents share as completely normal, and isn't that such a beautiful thing? To be able to freely love without judgement.

Peep the Poly+Acotarweek Masterlist here

Nyx blinked so innocently at you. His tiny fist gripped his pencil as he mimicked your blinking, waiting for you, Azriel, Nesta, or Cassian to answer him. Rhys and Feyre stood behind him with shit eating grins, waiting for how you all would respond.

The heir stared mainly at you, his damn near mirror image,  as you looked up at your older brother Rhys and then back down to your nephew. “Auntie Y/n, I need to know! It's for school,” his little face pouted, and all eyes landed on you.

You sighed, leaning your elbows top your knees. “Well, baby, I don't know how to explain or where you want me to start.” 

Nyx huffed, looking at you like you were stupid and making Rhys further chuckle. “I know you sleep with Uncle Cassian,” the mentioned male spit out his water, praying their nephew simply meant sharing a bed and not other activities. “And Auntie Ness,” Nesta held no reaction, not even an ounce of shame. “And Uncle Azzy.” Azriel looked away, scratching his jaw line. “And last weekend when I came up to surprise you, all four of you were in one bed and Uncle Cass made me wait before I could snuggle, and daddy only makes me do that when he and mommy -"

Rhys covered Nyx's mouth, his own face flushed as Feyre's ears turned pink. “What he wants to know is how to explain the dynamic.” Since you know for our kind this is not normal, Rhys said gently into your mind. A three-way bond is rare. A 4-way bond is unheard of.

Azriel spoke softly. “We all love each other, Nyx,” he said it like it was the easiest thing to explain to a child with parents who enjoy their monogamous marriage and traditional mating bond, as if Nyx would just understand. “We all love each other so much, and we all enjoy being together. All the time.”

Nyx rolled his eyes. “I know. But how?” He waited again, brows raised and a small pout growing in his face.

Cassian smiled nodding to you. “You tell him, princess.” 

You looked at Az, the smile on his face told every single emotion he had. “A long long loooooong time ago,” Nyx giggled as you held the vowel, “Your daddy and Uncle Cass brought home this weird,” a soft watch it came from beside you, “but kind of cute Illyrian, and I had my first crush.”

The quiet male standing behind Rhys and Cassian rocked back and forth on his feet as you looked at him. He was beautiful, all be it, awkward, but still beautiful. “Sis, meet Azriel,” you waved from behind your mother's leg. “He's going to live with us.”

“Third brother!” Cassian threw his arms up, yelling and then hugging the male with scarred hands and damaged wings tightly.

“Brother!” Rhys then also went in to hug him, rambling about all the cool things they'd be doing together. Hazel eyes met yours, and plush lips mouthed, “Help me.”

You smiled softly at him, offering him a hand and pulling him away from the idiots around you two. "Do you like chocolate?" He nodded at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips before it disappeared. "Good."

“They were inseparable after that,” Cassian grumbled. His tone was filled with old aching jealousy. “Unless Azriel was training or agreed to hang out with us. He was with y/n.”

The sparkle in Nyx's eye as he looked at where you and Azriel sat, lost to all of them as the male kissed your knuckles made Cassian's heart skip. “Did they know they were mates?”

“No,” Cassian was soft now. “That happened under different circumstances.”

"I've apologized many times, Cassian." Azriel stared towards the larger male. "Will you ever actually forgive us?"

"It's not you two I still hold anger towards."

Cassian had you alone. Finally alone.

You had been courting for months now, but every date always had at least one tag along. The kiss you two were in was frantic and heated as he held you against the wall. His teeth pulled at your bottom lip, smirking as you gasped softly and gave him more access to you. His lips moved to your neck, pulling the dress you had worn out of the way.

Cassian shivered as you whispered his name. Loving how he could reduce his educated little princess to nothing more than a girl desperate for his touch. You both jumped as the door slammed shut, two arguing voices carrying through the house. “Y/n!” You sighed as Cassian's grip grew tighter. “Cass!”

Azriel walked in seconds later, eyes going wide as he stood there in shock. It took him a moment, composing himself the best he could while looking just at you. “Your father is here. He will be coming to the house any second now.”Azriel's mind was slowly becoming a storm as he walked away. Allowing you to compose yourself before your father came and demanded dinner with his son, daughter, and their tagalongs. Your mother was trapped in Velaris heavily pregnant, unable to help you all, to help him. Of all the times for a bond to snap, it had to be while your legs were wrapped around Cassian, delicate fingers threaded through his hair. 

You were downstairs, setting the table quickly. Silently grateful you had planned to cook enough for a small army to ensure there was food for Rhys and Azriel. You felt him long before he spoke. That dominating presence just sucking the life and air from the happy cabin.

“Ah, little star,” soft hands held your jaw from behind. “You smell..” His nose was in your hair as your eyes shut, sniffing it deeply to place whatever scent he had caught. “Interesting. We will discuss you degrading yourself late." A pointed look when Rhysand's way, causing your older brother to flinch internally before shielding Cassian from any attacks. "Serve dinner, y/n. We have much to discuss.”

“So grandpa made Auntie serve Uncle Az dinner? And Auntie was dating Uncle Cass?”

Rhys nodded from the spot he had now taken next to Nyx. “Yes.”

“But that meant her and Uncle Az were married now.” You all couldn't help but smile at Nyx's innocence of what had happened that night. “But that's not fair.” 

“No buddy, it wasn't,” Cassian looked at you and Azriel. “It took us a while to be friends again.”

"But again," Azriel waited until Nyx looked to him. "We love each other. So we wanted to become friends again."

“What made you two friends?”

The question caused silence to hang in the air as you suddenly moved close into Nesta, seeking her comfort to stop you from crying. Azriel took a deep breath, “We lost some people, and Uncle Cass saved Auntie Y/n.”

"Like a knight saving a princess!"

Cassian scented your blood as the warriors ran to where the reports of a disturbance came from. It mixed heavily with the scent of soil, of your mother's blood, of little Stel’s blood.

He felt a weird pulling. As if something was desperately clawing at his chest, begging him to find you, and when he did, he went silent. 

You were unconscious on the ground, wings carved from your back, bruising everywhere. He flew you to your father, growling as healers ripped you from his arms. “How did you find her before I did?” Azriel's eyes were cold, staring at him from across the room.

“She called for me.” Cassian refused to leave your side as you healed. He was the first to hold you when you woke up, the one to teach you how to walk again. As much as it had irritated Azriel, the shadowsinger felt it, too. A strained pull bringing the three of you together. Binding your lives and very souls.

“So the three of you all dated?” 

“Yeah,” Azriel leaned forward, reading Nyx carefully. “And you know how Auntie Ness got involved. Does it bother you?”

A little lip trembled. “If you all love each other, how can you love me?” 

Nesta was to him instantly. Cradling her little life line so tight. “It's different, baby. But there's so much love for you. All the love for you. We'd all do anything for you, Nyx. We all love you so so much."

You moved by him, too, kissing a small hand. "Some people have so much love to give that their hearts overflow, Nyx. Trust us, we love you as much, if not almost more, than we love each other." You kissed his palm again. "But that doesn't answer the question, baby. Does it bother you that we all are married?"

Nyx thought for a while, young eyes filled with so much hope and knowledge studying each of you. "No. It's my favorite."

Silence fell between the 4 of you that night. “Do you think he understands?” You were the first to break the quiet. “Do we need to stop until he gets it?”

“If we don't raise him with this being the norm, he will never see it as a norm,” Cassian sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “He needs to grow up knowing it's normal for some people to love more than one person like this. Not everyone has one love of their life, y/n. Some of us get the honor of falling in love over and over again."

“I've never heard the full story.” Nesta moved next to Azriel. “Of how you three began. I have a feeling you left details out.” 

You answered plainly. “Several fights. Verbal and physical. A lot crying. A lot of sex. Rhys yelled a lot. Like. More than he ever has at you. I got locked in the Palace by father at one point."

“So what was the final decision? What made two three?”

Cassian, you, and Azriel all smiled. “The first Solstice with Rhys trapped Under the Mountain.”

You refused to leave bed. Refused to eat. You refused to so much as even think about solstice without your brother. 

It felt wrong.

Like you were playing this role of someone you were never meant to play. You stayed in his room, Azriel, Cassian, Mor, and Amren long forgotten. You had not spoken with your mates since Rhys left your head, whispering soft words of how much you mean to him, of how his greatest joy in life was being your big brother. 

You didn't even respond as the door opened and the bed dipped in two places. “We miss him too,” Cassian moved his hand to find yours under the blanket. “We tried having a snowball fight, but it just didn't feel right.”

Azriel hummed from where he had moved to lay behind you. “Not just because Rhysand is missing, but our girl wasn't there cheering us on from the sidelines.” 

“I'm sorry-”

“Do not apologize, princess.” Cassian laid next to you then, too. “If this is where you'd like to be today, we need to be good mates and be here, too.” 

Azriel's lips pressed softly on your shoulder. “We were hoping Solstice would be extra special this year. Cassian and I have talked a lot, and we both think there's enough love inside of all of us to make this work.”

Your eyes lit up instantly. “Really?”

Cassian nodded. “I loved you long before he came into the picture, and I've realized slowly how much I love him as well.”

“And I feel the same,” Azriel moved a hand to rest above yours and Cassian's. “And I know you do, starlight.” 

“So this is my solstice present? No more fighting?” 

“No more fighting,” they confirmed together.

“Rhys would be so happy. I wish he was here.”

The two males shared a look. One sparing glance. Azriel brushed soft onyx colored hair from your face. "We do too. Do you know what Rhys would have liked for Solstice?"

Cassian kissed your shoulder, finishing Azriel's thought. "You to eat something."

“And then 50 years later you came,” you smiled so softly. “And you shook everything I'd ever thought about myself.”

Nesta's face flushed. “Was I?”

“My first and last time with a female.”

“Oh,” Nesta's hands played with the hem of her dress. “When I was human, I never imagined this. The first time I saw the first of you together, I didn't know what to think.”

Cassian smiled, “We're a lot.”

“It wasn't that. I.. Deep down I wanted to be a part of it from the first dinner. It was like-”

“You found home?” Azriel ran a finger down her cheek. “You sure as fuck fought it, Ness.”

“Because it was scary. Loving so many people so deeply is terrifying.”

“And magical.” 

She looked at you, and nodded to confirm. “Beyond magical.”

“Yes. It is.”

Cassian smacked your ass slightly before standing. “Rhys said Nyx is going to say we all just live together and love each other a lot and he likes it.”

Azriel stood behind him. “Separate beds tonight or one?”

“One,” the general answered with a shrug. “We will see you two in bed.”

You both wished them goodnight as Nesta smiled softly into the fire. You leaned to her, holding those perfect manicured hands. She smiled before laughing out a soft what. “I know it's still strange for you, but it's amazing how much room we all truly have for people in our hearts, if we're brave enough to allow them in.” 

“Sometimes my heart is so full, I just worry I will wake up and it's all been a lie.”

“Never, Ness. I have you. You have me. We have them. They have us, and the beautiful thing is that love flows freely. And it always will, so long as you wish for it to.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“And I love you, Nesta. Let's go to bed and hope our nephew doesn't make us look like heathens.”

“There's no one else I'd rather be a heathen with,” soft lips met yours before resting a forehead against yours. “You were my favorite to fall in love with. You know that?”

“Really?” The oldest Archeron nodded. “Tell me our story from your eyes someday?”

“I will.”

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Poly Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

#acotar x reader #poly+acotarweek #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek 2024 d1 #azriel x reader x nessian #azriel x reader #nessian x reader #cazriel x reader #nesta x reader #acotar #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #nesta acotar

[norrisleclercf1]

Can we get more mafia Mimi or jenson 🥹 I’m a sucker for the mafia jenson fic it’s so wnhsshajau

A/N: Back again with more Mafia!Jenson and Assistant!Reader

"Wake up," Jenson yelps as he's kicked off the bed. With a large thump, Jenson groans and rubs his head. Sitting up, he glares at you and the heel that's in his face. "What the hell, wake a man up normally!" He snaps and you just huff sitting your foot down.

"I tried bird brain, but you just whined and rolled over. GET UP!" Jenson covers his ears as you stomp out of his bedroom and down the stairs. "Old hag!" He yells after you and gets up, hissing from the pain in the side of his stomach. "If you don't get up, I'll be the one to poison your coffee and not that sweet little blonde boy." Jenson hisses and rushes around getting dressed.

"Hey," Jenson freezes, seeing you leaning on the island making a cup for said blonde boy. "Logan, why are you here? In my home?" Logan just smiles and takes a bite of the bacon on his plate. "Miss. L/N invited me," You smile gently and ruffle his hair. "Unlike you, he's a good boy who gets up on time." You tease and Jenson glares at you.

Logan was a new recruit that was brought in my James and Alex. He was a good kid, but Jenson was now fighting for your attention. Logan blushes and shoves a piece of toast in his mouth. Jenson glares and sips his coffee. "In case you forgot kid, I'm your boss. Eyes and hands off what's mine." Jenson just smiles and Logan's eyes grow wide and he looks away.

You turn back around and plate another serving to Logan. "Leave the kid alone, he's here to help you today. As I have somewhere else to be." Jenson stops and looks up and takes in the difference of what you're wearing.

Your normal pencil skirt was loose and didn't hug your thighs like he liked it. And the tight blouses were replaced with a soft sweater, yet you kept the thin tights and black heels.

"Nope, request denied." You roll your eyes and huff. "Mr. Button," You pull up your phone and shove it in his face. "In my co tract it clearly states at "said assistant is allowed off 6 days out of every month. Said assistant is said to take these days off or not recieve a bonus." So....I'm taking my day off. Logan is very smart. He can help." You smile and Jenson groans.

Great, now his own words are biting him in the ass.

"Logan, everything is on the table. Have a wonderful day sweetie." Kissing the boys cheek you wave bye and close the door. "You're not y/n," Jenson grumbles and Logan raises an eyebrow. "I sure hope not sir, I don't partially enjoy sitting in your lap."

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #f1 humor #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1!mafia #mafia!f1 #mafia!jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #jenson button one shot #jenson button f1 #jenson button oneshot #jenson button x you #jenson button fluff #jenson button blurb #jenson button x y/n

[abibliophobiaa]

fluff and/or smut request based on the prompt “My God, you're fun to kiss.”

Eddie preferred but if Steve inspires you more for this that's okay too!

ily💖

eddie munson x afab!reader. 18+.

-

It starts as friends.

Acquaintances, really. People who pass each other in the hall. Glances as you go, simple pleasantries, a wave if you’re lucky.

But fate steps in. And soon it’s a joint project, it’s trying to care for an egg together, to make sure it doesn’t break, gentleness foreign to both of you. It’s handing off your pretend child at the end of an afternoon—it’s joint custody over an eventual grade.

Soon, it’s gentle brushes of flesh in science class. It’s an accidental touch after almost dropping a pipette, a borrowed pencil, a shared eraser. Awkward encounters become heated glances. They become chemical interactions like the science projects you share with Eddie Munson.

Bright, vibrant, and potent.

You think it’s a joke when you’re paired in English class. Some sort of cosmic arrangement in the stars, a joke from the gods, what have you. Because of all the people you could act out Romeo and Juliet with, Eddie Munson is the last one on your list.

He’s brash and unruly. He’s disorganized and frenetic. He’s…well, he’s charismatic and alluring. Infuriating and compelling. Intriguing and impossible. Handsome and absolutely grotesque. Charming and…

Well. That’s the problem, really. The more the stars align, the more you find you like him. The more you find yourself enraptured by the boy with curly hair and a dimpled smile.

So it’s almost no surprise when you find yourself seated on a bench in the middle of spring, surrounded by dappled light and looming trees, books stretched out in front of you, practicing your lines. Only Eddie’s distracted. Has been for a bit. Since you arrived, really.

“Is there something on my face?” Your words are short. Staccato. Clipped. Brusque, without a real reason for them being so.

“Er—no.”

And that’s that. These weeks, these opportune moments—they mean nothing. Fleeting gazes, jovial banter, and brief looks? Those don’t make up a relationship. You know this. Yet it stings all the same. Sinks deep in your gut.

Or so you think.

The next time you meet in the woods, Eddie’s a live wire. Fingers tapping a pen on his notebook, brushing your cheek, curling around your jaw. He’s staring at you fondly. Like you’re the only girl in the world; like you’re his. And you would be—if he’d only asked you.

It’s on that day, as the sun sets and the sky glows orange, he leans down and kisses you the first time.

A gentle brush of his lips over yours as you sit on top of that wooden table. His knees press to the bench, your backside on the tabletop, his ringed fingers around your hips.

He kisses you like you’re precious—a jewel to be cherished, bright and twinkly, rare and his. And you find you like that; languish in it.

You get a B+ in O’Donnell’s class and the woods become your haven that next week. A place where you can run to him, your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist. Whispers of hate and love, of frustration and adoration, of ‘will they’ and ‘won’t they.’

There’s a shlick of a zipper lowering. A hiss from the boy before you as you tug him forward by his belt loops, nosing along his throat, sucking purple hickeys into supple flesh.

He’s plush lips over your breast, whispers of, “My god, you’re fun to kiss.”

And you’re pliant. Heart a flutter as he slides your skirt up your thighs, parting you for him, brushing at your slit. He teases at your flesh. One finger, swirling in your slick, mouth swallowing your pitiful moans. And then another, sliding into you. Making you whimper and moan, gasps muffled against the column of his throat.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, brushing his mouth over your ear.

Smirks into your skin when you tremble, thighs spreading wider, welcoming the boy as he prods at your center, groans when you whimper into his chest at the brush of his fullness against your hole.

“Y-yeah, Eds.”

“What do you want, baby? Need your words.”

Another brush. A nudge. A slight pressure where you want him most, but it has your toes curling, fingers tightening around his leather jacket, gripping fast to curls, teeth clenching around his earlobe.

“Need you to fuck me,” you manage.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s smirking. Dimples and cockiness, fingers curling around his base, pressing his head against your center. Collecting your slick and pushing in slightly. Enough to have you quivering, enough to have you begging for more. “Like this?”

And he’s sliding in. Inch by blessed inch, slowly and painstakingly so, until you’re a gasping, writhing, pleading mess. Tears prick your eyes, fingers in his hair, mouth against his.

“You like me,” he rasps.

Not a question.

Not at all.

A statement. Simple, just like breathing. Just like the way he slides in and out of you—like he’s always done so, like it’s what he’s always been made to, like he’s been doing so all along. 

“I do,” you gasp out, shuddering around him, curling your thighs around him, dragging him closer. You need him closer. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Go out with me.” A brush of his lips over your heart, hips rolling against yours, drawing out your pleasure.

You hate him, you like him, you might even love him.

“I will,” you whimper, pulling him tighter, burning brighter. “I will.”

And it’s one week later you walk down the halls hand in hand with Eddie Munson. Your health partner, lab partner, english partner. Stranger, acquaintance, friend.

Boyfriend.

Yours.

-

-

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader

[somnambulic-thing]

page 622 read on ao3

Eddie Munson x afab!reader E +18

summary: It's the middle of the night and you just can't find sleep. Eddie wants to help. He wants to help so bad.

Words: 3k

||reader has insomnia, smut, fluff, pinch of angst, LOTR references, domestic, nerds in love||

A/N: This is for all of us who haunt the nights. <3

Page 622 is graced with not one, but two dog ears.

That’s nothing unusual for the thick heavy paperback in your hands. A copy of The Lord of the Rings, all three parts united in one book and littered with battle scars like a gnarly old Orc of Mordor.

It belongs to both of you, bought on that whimsical fleamarket by the side of the road with spare change collected from the nooks and crannies of the van. It hadn’t mattered that you already owned a box set each, it had been clear that this book wanted to go home with you. Once integrated into your shared collection, it became the copy that was pulled out when Eddie and you had an argument about the most minuscule details to settle. It wasn’t a rare occasion that someone got tackled before they could claim victory over the matter. That brave book had been ripped from victorious hands more times than you could count and flung over shoulders, into corners or behind furniture.

It was also the copy Eddie used to ponder ideas. When he was writing a campaign and the atmosphere he was eager to create didn’t feel quite right, he would go down into the Mines of Moria or deep into the thicket of Fangorn forest and seek inspiration between the lines. There he left marks with the heavy tip of his pencil, elbows catching on the edges of pages as he reached for his notebook, creating new dogears, sometimes small tears.

You loved those marks and never grew tired of discovering fresh traces of his adventures. They kept you company on those days you wouldn’t get tired at all.

The world between the worn covers was familiar, the motions of the adventures committed to memory in many places, the adventurers friends that comforted you on restless nights.

You chose this copy over the others you own because it’s an intimate object, because you could trust it to catch you should you fall asleep on its pages, trust it to be more beautiful in the morning with more kinks and wrinkles.

But there were days when even the unhastiness of Treebeard wouldn’t do the trick to coax you into slumber. Today was such a day; stuck on the sofa on a dark, restless sea and no sleep in sight.

You hadn’t heard him coming.

“Just flopped around the mattress like a fish out of water looking for you.”

Eddie’s voice is deep and raspy and a little cranky around the edges. Your eyes shift from page 622 to where he stands in the doorframe, all tousled hair and sleepy eyes. There are lines on his right cheek, a shallow relief in the mirror image of his pillowcase. His boxers sit dangerously low on his hips and it tickles in your fingertips to follow the trail of soft hair and tuck them further down.

“That’s an amusing image,” you say with a smile as Eddie rubs one eye with his flat hand, nose scrunched up and wrinkly. “Can you demonstrate that to me?”

“Do not mock me. I awoke all cold and lonely…” he waves the other hand through the air. “Forsaken by my love.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, the mirth in your tone slipping just slightly, but Eddie catches it.

“How long have you been up?” he asks, banter put aside in exchange for worry and makes his way over to the nest of blankets and pillows you’d made on the sofa.

You frown, not sure you know the answer to that question, feeling like you’ve fallen out of the stream of time; trapped in endless night, doomed to read the same three sentences on page 622 again and again with nothing but your thoughts for company. Until now.

You turn to check the thin green digital numbers on the VHS recorder while Eddie lowers himself to the ground in front of you. “Almost two hours.”

“That’s no good,” he says softly and fumbles with the blanket draped over your legs in search of your skin, nudging the book off balance. It slides down your lap with a soft rustle. Dark, heavy eyes search your face for clues he knows you’re reluctant to give him and a warm palm finds your thigh moments later, an epicentre for violent goosebumps. You shiver and he smiles. “What can I do?”

“Nothing—“

“You underestimate my relaxing properties.” He places a kiss on your knee. “It’s pretty annoying, actually.”

You shake your head. “Don’t want to keep you up—“

“Want me to take over the reading? You just rest and listen—” He lowers his voice to a soft rumble. “—let me hypnotize you.”

“You really don’t have to—“

“Shhh… would you please just let me help?” Without waiting for an answer, Eddie slides the blanket off your thigh and covers it in soft, slow kisses.

“Can’t—“ kiss “go—“ kiss “back to sleep—“ kiss kiss “knowing—“ kiss “you’re out here alone. Suffering.”

His hair is soft between your fingers. You loosen a few small knots while you rake your nails over his scalp.

“Eddie… I…”

It’s exhausting being a ghost, to haunt the wee hours of the night unable to find rest. It was also lonely. There was a hazy barrier isolating you from the people around you. From the man whose company you craved so much but struggled to accept in this circle of hell.

Eddie has had his fair share of sleepless nights, had done plenty of haunting himself; but not like this, not without a trackable cause that offered some degree of sense. And you’d never wish this on him no matter how lonely you get, but sometimes, you find yourself envying him for the way he just falls asleep on any surface most days and with the envy, there comes resentment. The disconnect between resentment and longing a rope binding your hands behind your back, keeping you from reaching out.

Dark eyes are staring holes into your body as Eddie is waiting for you to continue, to give him something.

“You what, sweetheart?” He’s rubbing circles into your skin. “You want me to leave? Like, actually?”

“I don’t want to take my mood out on you…”

“Why not?” he grins. “We could make it fun. Tire you out, air out some of that—“ his hands leave your legs to gesture wildly through the air. The cold creeping in where his warm palms had just rested feels unbearably cruel. You don’t want him to leave. “— some of that pent-up… whatever it is.”

“Okay.”

Eddie’s brows vanish under tousled bangs. “Okay? Shit, I had this whole speech planned about how we’re a team and that you’re being so stubborn is a waste of time—”

“You complaining?”

“No… no…” he smiles and runs his hands up your thighs. “So, you wanna be a little… mean to me?”

“No,” you breathe out. “Don’t want that.”

He hums and nods, leans down and licks your skin; from your knee right up to the hem of your shorts. It’s the slightest touch, just the tip of his tongue, but the sensation sinks into your body like warm summer rain falling onto dry and dusty ground.

“Let me love you,” he mumbles against your thigh, running the tip of his nose along the border of fabric you hide behind. “I hate it when you feel lonely while I’m right here and fucking crazy about you…”

“You’re right here,” you repeat like in a trance. Eddie looks up at you, so soft and wild at the same time and so sincere and you feel the last layer of resistance melt as if it had never existed.

“Right fucking here.”

“Fuck me.”

Warm gentle hands begin to free your legs from the tangle of blankets and you marvel at how much of Eddie’s essence resides in his touch; soft but rough around the edges where his fingertips have put on tough skin over the years. There’s so much love, so much passion lingering in those points where you end and he begins.

Accompanied by the soft rustling of fabric, Eddie runs those storytelling hands up and down your thighs, from the inside to the outside and up to the round of your ass where he ever so slightly puts his nails against your skin and runs them down down down to the back of your knees where he holds on and pulls you further down the cushion. You yelp a little and then you both laugh a little and you lift your hips to aid him rid you of your shorts and underwear.

“M’ gonna try a thing,” he says and spreads your legs just wide enough to fit in between.

“Try w-what?” you ask around a hitching breath as you watch Eddie slide two fingers into his mouth. They glisten with spit when he pulls them out and you can hear a few drops hit the floor as he lowers himself down.

“You know how I sometimes take ice-cold showers to shock spiralling thoughts out of my mind?”

“I… what? AH!”

One long finger enters you swiftly, moves in-out-in-out and is joined by the other. Heat expands like a shockwave through your pelvis as all the blood rushes to greet the pads of Eddie’s fingers. He moves with precision in quick pulsing motions against that soft erogenous spot deep inside you, watching you closely.

“Good?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Not too much?”

“No,” you grit out as your hips start to twitch.

There is no smug little smile, no told-you-so grin, only deep concentration and a bright red blush high on his cheeks and you desperately wish he’d kiss you. That thought is gone and forgotten as that penetrating pulse quickens, deepens and Eddie’s mouth inches closer and closer to your clit. There’s a sharp tingling in your cunt, not quite a sting, not quite pain and it’s hot and delicious and as it spreads out into every corner of your body, the world gets smaller and smaller, shrinks countless miles each second until this sofa is the only place left in the universe.

“Holy shit, holy shit, those noises, sweetheart.”

You can’t hear a thing over the rush in your ears and as Eddie’s lips close around your confused, prickling clit, your eyes roll up and close.

And for an infinite moment, there’s nothing left but ecstasy.

When time starts up again, you’re re-entering the world shaking and gasping. Eddie is quick on his knees. One hand closing around your wrist and the other pressed into your back he pulls you into an embrace that you collapse into like a dying star.

“I love you I love you I love you…” he whispers into your hair and holds you holds you holds you until you feel solid again. “You good?”

You nod and hum.

Hands find your face and guide you up and you remember how badly you need a kiss when Eddie’s lips form pretty words so close to yours. “Now, let me take you to bed and—“ You interrupt him, pressing your mouth to his with desperate, sloppy urgency. He chuckles softly, catching your lower lip with his teeth for a gentle tug before he pulls away.

“Come on,” he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Really wanna continue this.”

“Can’t move… you broke me.”

“Oh, well, pretty sure you broke my fingers with your pussy so we’re even. Get up.”

You laugh and reach for the hand cupping your left cheek; you kiss the palm, run your tongue along his fingers and kiss the tips. “Better?”

Eddie’s brows shoot up and he takes a sharp breath. “Bedroom!”

He scrambles to his feet and pulls you with him. In motion like that, you can feel drowsiness settling in, slowly taking hold of your muscles. Your legs still feel shaky, almost heavy, and Eddie wraps an arm around your waist for the moment it takes you to steady yourself.

“Looks like it’s working,” he says softly.

“Feels like it, too.”

Finally, there is the smug smile you have been waiting for. “And it took me less than two minutes. ”

“You… checked the time?”

“For science,” he says proudly and the smile turns into a grin.

“Ah, science. Alright, Doc,” you reach down, hook a finger into the waistband of his boxers and let it snap. “I’m ready for the next experiment.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrows his sleepy eyes and hums. You can hear the cogs in his mind take up speed and then he sidesteps you and begins to rummage through the mess of blankets and pillows on the sofa.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a sec, you gave me an idea— ha!” He whirls around and shoves The Lord Of The Rings into your hands. Your reaction is tardy and you feel the cover catch on your thumb and bend in a way that probably leaves a crease but you have not time to check because Eddie is quickly maneuvring you to the bedroom.

He sits you down on the bed and swiftly pulls your shirt over your head and you have no choice but to let go of the book. It drops somewhere on the mattress and out of your mind when Eddie flicks on the bedside lamp and strips out of his boxers.

“Never gets old”, you marvel at the sight of him, pale and lean but soft and the smile you just conjured with those words seems nothing short of diabolical with the way the light catches his features from below.

You recede onto the mattress and he follows you like you’re magnetic, crawling after you until he’s back between your legs, kissing his way up your body, taking his time to caress your breasts with his hands and lips. Only when you yawn he stops and comes up to face you, to kiss you and you drink in the sigh of relief that he places inside your mouth as he slides his hard cock against your folds, you hold on to goosebump-covered shoulders as he pushes inside you.

“Never gets old,” he moans as he rolls his hips against you in deep, slow thrusts and kisses your nose when you have to giggle.

You’re not chasing ecstasy now, but wholeness, you’re not searching for a high, but for refuge. All your thoughts slow down while Eddie occupies all your senses.

“How do you feel?” he asks into the soft spot below your ear.

“Good… Sleepy.”

“M’ not saying I told you so—“

A chuckle tickles your skin and suddenly, a bolt of guilt and fear flashes through you. “But we can’t do this every time—“

“Hey!” He lifts his head to look at you, presses a finger to your lips. “Shhh… Don’t go there,” he says and puts his forehead to yours. “Come back… come back to me. I got you.”

“I’m here.”

“You just have to let me in…” He kisses you like he’s sacred you could vanish from beneath him and you swear you can feel his heartbeat reach out for yours, swear you can feel it pound against your chest like it’s begging for entry.

“M’ sorry,” you whisper and sling your arms around his shoulders. “I’m trying.”

And then he moves, slowly pulling his cock from inside you—

“Eddie?”

and stretches long across the bed to grab the book right off the edge.

“On your side,” he instructs and manhandles you into position before you can comply on your own and slides back into your cunt before you can process what’s happening.

“Fuck… oh fuck…” you moan as quick deep thrusts hit just the right spot over and over. You can hear the rustling of pages behind you and Eddie’s chest retreats from your back. “W-what are y- ah you…?”

‘It was not much more than a tall man’s height now…’  he reads the first line from page 622. You try to turn to look at him but he pushes you back. “Nu-uh, relax. M’ going to read to you and I’m going to fuck you till you pass out and maybe then you’ll think of waking me sooner the next time you pick up this book in the dead of night.”

You moan and laugh and there are tears in the corner of your eyes. “You trying to condition me?”

There’s no answer, he just keeps reading; shakily, punctuated in the quick rhythm of his thrusts and laced with moans of his own. You just close your eyes and let go and soon enough you’re close to the edge again.

’We are famisshed, yes famisshed we are, precious,…” he croaks in a toned down, breathy Gollum impression that’s highly confusing and you clutch the sheet, pulling it loose.

“Shit… you gonna make me come…”

After a few more lines he stops reading and you hear the book drop. Eddie presses close to you, softly bites your shoulder while a hand wanders down between your legs to play with your clit.

‘Yess, yess, nice water,’ said Gollum,’ he continues from memory.

“Oh, you asshole,” you groan.

‘Drink it, drink it, while we can! But what is it they’ve got, precious? Is it crunchable? Is it… tasty?’

One strangled moan falls from your mouth and then your insides tense violently. Eddie mercilessly fucks you through it and beyond and doesn’t slow down until he coaxes another orgasm out of you. He follows you this time. You feel him pulse and twitch deep inside of you, feel his hot breath on your shoulder and neck and one stray tear escape the corner of your eye. It runs down the side of your nose while you listen to both your mismatched breathing slow down again.

“I fucking love you,” you babble groggily. “So much… so much…”

Eddie places a kiss on the back of your head and picks the book back up, resuming where he left off. He stays inside you while he softens until he slips out. The distinction between characters fades, the gaps between words grow longer but you barely register it; it’s the sound of his voice that pulls you under into the depths of Morpheus’ realm and you’re finally ready to descend completely…

‘Look here!’ Sam whispered to Frodo, not too softly: he did not really care whether Gollum heard him or not. ‘We’ve got to get some Sleep—' Eddie pauses. “Precious? You asleep?”

Your slow, even breathing is all the answer he gets. He carefully reaches over you and drops the book on the mattress before he turns off the light and wraps his arm around you.

“Gonna find you in my dreams,” he whispers into your shoulder and follows you into sleep.

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson fanfic #my fic

[thepastdied]

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Not my gif

TW: panic attack.

eddie munson × reader fluff

warning: cuteness

Eddie cheers you up after a panic attack.

Yes, I know Hellfire isn't in the auditorium. Shhh.

Your breathing got faster as you slid your body down the cement wall of the auditorium, throat tightening and your insides twisting around painfully.

Your teacher had called you out in front of the entire class an hour ago, and you'd been holding in your nerves since then. It was agonizing.

Your palms were sweating, face hot, head fuzzy, and you were overwhelmed with nausea.

You huffed out a sob, your shaky hand covering your mouth as you muffled your cries.

You hated yourself for being so sensitive. But waking up and coming to this hell hole was such a chore. Every. Day. You felt like you wanted to throw up every morning, your stomach turning from the moment your eyes snapped open to the loud ringing of your alarm clock. Even worse when you would smell the fresh breakfast your mom made before you slipped out the front door.

Getting to school was one of the hardest parts of your day. The short drive gave you little to no time to prepare yourself for the crowd of students flocking into the school and through the hallways.

The moment you got to class, it was like a sigh of relief. You'd talk with a couple of classmates, and that was all. You didn't feel as anxious anymore and actually felt safe to be sitting down in a room with familiar faces rather than pushing through a crowd.

But here you were, a pathetic mess on the floor of the auditorium. All because a teacher snapped at you for laughing at one of Eddie's jokes.

"What's the stinkiest planet?" Eddie turned around and leaned over your desk, his eyebrows raising in anticipation, eyes sparkling as his full lips pulled into a smirk.

You cringed at him, shaking your head.

"Poopiter." He leaned back and laughed at his own joke. You following suit and got your own ass handed to you for it.

You felt stupid, but it was so embarrassing. More so because it was in front of Eddie, who you were totally crushing on. He was always so sweet to you. The entire class looked at you, scowling and rolling their eyes. You don't know how you'd be able to set foot in that classroom again. You have never gotten yelled at by a teacher.

Your vision blurred as tears poured down your face, ears hot and ringing, body shivering. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you hyperventilated. It hurt.

Your nimble fingers picked at the frayed thread of your ripped jeans, tears rolling down the bridge of your nose and landing on your thigh as your head bowed down. Your lips quivered before you sobbed again, your hands covering your red face as your throat gurgled from the saliva building in your mouth.

Your head snapped up, the hard push on the auditorium door handle echoing loudly throughout the room.

"Doopy doo dee daaaa.." Eddie quickly passed you as he galloped down the long slope walkway toward the stage. His torn backpack hung loosly on one shoulder and flopped roughly against his back.

You shrunk into yourself, your whole body going hot in embarrassment as you quickly wiped the tears from your face and covered your eyes with your still shaky hands, the knot in your throat growing bigger. You swallowed and took the deepest breath you could before slowly letting it out. And then again. And again.

A sudden smack made you perk your head up, the back of your hand wiping under your nose.

"Shit.." Eddie abruptly stopped and turned around to pick up the pencil case that fell out of his backpack. "Need a new backpack."

You involuntarily sniffled, your eyes going wide as his head shot up in your direction.

"Hey!" He grinned, eyes cheerful as he reached one arm up high and waved his arm as if he were flagging down a ship.

You meekly raised your hand, still paralyzed from your panic attack.

He stared at you for a moment, hand frozen in mid-air before he let it fall to his side, tilting his head quizzically.

"Hey, you okay?" He called across the room.

Your stomach twisted again and your eyes started to burn again. I hate when people ask if you're okay when you are NOT okay.

You chomped down on your lip as it began to quiver, a single tear escaping down your cheek.

"No no no no, don't.. shit shit why did I ask that.. uh-" Eddie cursed as he spun in a circle, frantically looking around and panicking.

He held his breath for a moment as he paused, standing still before shrugging his backpack off his shoulder and letting it fall to the floor.

Eddie slowly walked back up the aisle, hands clasped behind him as he leaned forward to get a better look at you- like he was observing a scared cat.

He stood upright as he saw what a mess you were. Your hair stuck to your wet, red, and puffy face, your sad eyes meeting his soft brown ones.

His ringed hand came up to scratch at his chin, his lips sticking at as he looked around awkwardly. You put your head back down to rest on your knees that you'd been hugging and sniffled again as a tear fell onto your sleeve.

He carefully walked in front of you, his dirty white reeboks almost touching your just as dirty converse. You opened your eyes when you heard him groan as he sat down in front of you, his back leaning against one of the many chairs that covered the room.

Your eyes stayed on his sneakers. You wanted to speak, but you couldn't. The only sounds coming out were sniffles.

Eddie skidded his foot forward, the top of his shoe knocking on the side of yours. You didn't move.

He did it again, but with his other foot. And then started to tap them back and forth to whatever song he was playing in his head.

You momentarily furrowed your eyebrows as you watched his feet and shifted your focus to his arms when he started to fiddle with an imaginary guitar.

You wiped your cheek on your shoulder and huffed out a laugh as he began to rock his head back and forth, eyes closed.

"Wish you could hear this. I'm totally shredding it." He peeked one eye open as he began to hum.

You covered your mouth to cover your giggle, his movements pausing at your reaction and feet remaining on either side of your own.

"Maybe someday?" He placed his hands on the floor and leaned forward in question.

You licked your tear stained lips and used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe both of your eyes, your tears finally stopping.

"At the Hideout?" You croaked, cringing at how hoarse your voice was.

He smiled at you, his eyes big and the corners of his mouth turning downwards in the way that they do.

"Every Tuesday, hun." He winked at you, eyes dazzling.

Your breath caught in your throat and you broke eye contact. Eddie internally panicked for a second until you looked back up and nodded with a weak smile.

His eyes left yours and danced across your face until they trailed down to your hair. He reached forward and ran his fingers along the small braid you had behind your ear.

"Cool." He muttered. "Wanna do mine?" He quirked one eyebrow and grinned as he grabbed a lock of his curls and wiggled it back and forth.

Your throat went dry as you wordlessly nodded.

Fuck.

Eddie excitedly did a little dance and slid his body so your thighs were touching. He held his arm out toward you, a black hair tie snug on his wrist.

Your fingers brushed his skin as you pulled it over his hand and placed it on your lap.

His fingers nervously drummed against his thighs as you raked your hand through his hair, which was surprisingly not as knotted as you thought.

Keyword, as. It was still pretty knotted.

The back of your hand brushed his neck as you began to separate three sections of his hair behind his ear, the same area where yours was. He shivered before coughing and sitting up straighter.

He hummed a bit, and soon his head started to lightly bob back and forth as he did before.

"Eddie! You made me mess up." You pouted as his soft curls slipped from your fingers and the braid quickly unraveled.

He laughed, shoulders shaking as he held his hands up and apologized.

You scoffed and shook your head before starting over again, still struggling to keep a grip on his impossibly soft hair.

"Can you talk to me about it?" He whispered after a long moment of silence.

You paused just for a second. You didn't feel that anxiety creep back up, but you didn't want to cry again.

"Want you to tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."

You sighed. So you told him why you were upset.

"Jesus.. I totally forgot about that." He looked down at the floor in deep thought before placing his hand on your ankle.

"You know that the whole class probably forgot, too. Ya know? Tomorrow it will be just like any other day. Mrs. O'Donnell won't even remember either, probably. She yells at me all the time. Would probably confuse that whole situation with me, honestly." His big stupidly pretty eyes bored into yours, sincerity written all over his face.

"If she ever brings it up - which she won't by the way, I'll tell her that it was me. She won't think twice about it." He shrugged.

You released his hair and put your hands on your lap, wringing your fingers together before you began to pick at your nails. You felt that sting in your eyes again, but you held it this time. You were still embarrassed because it was in front of him. His eyes flicked down before he pursed his lips and shook his head, bangs swiping his forehand.

"Don't do that.." He muttered as he moved his hand from your ankle to your wrist, thumb rubbing circles into the soft skin there.

He trailed his index finger up your palm slowly, way too slowly, before intertwining his fingers with yours. A small blush creeped across his cheeks when your fingers tightened around his.

"For the record," He paused for a moment when your eyes met his through your eyelashes. He bit onto his top lip, bottom lip sticking out as he bashfully placed his face against his shoulder to itch his jaw. "You're still pretty even when you cry."

"Oh my god.." You laughed as you covered your face when the hand he wasn't holding.

His timid smile quickly disappeared into a dopey grin.

"I got another joke, sweetheart." He pulled your hand onto his lap as he sat up straighter and shook the stray curls from his face.

You nodded for him to continue, your hand now covering your mouth as you chewed your lip shyly.

"Do you want to hear a joke about pizza?" His face went serious.

You both were quiet for a few heartbeats before a laugh bubbled in his throat. He strained his mouth, jaw tensing as he tried to conceal his laugh.

"What is it?" You smiled as you nudged him with your shoe.

"Never mind, it's too cheesy." He burst out laughing, letting all the laughter he held for the last minute into the auditorium as he threw his head back.

It was the stupidest joke, and that's why you laughed, your hand shoving his shoulder as he hunched forward and knocked into you.

"That is so stupid." You sputtered, mainly giggling at his overreaction.

He nodded his head, wiping a non existent tear dramatically from under his eye.

"Wheeeew. That was a knee slapper." He chuckled again, shaking his head at the absurdity.

His stray laughs came to a steady stop as he looked at your hand still clasped around his, your thumb playing with one of his rings.

"Seeing how you like my jokes, I was thinking.. maybe we could uh-.. I mean, if you are on the same page as me- like we could -" He stumbled with his words before the door swung open and a group of boys and one girl slid into the room.

The both of you scrambled away from eachother before they could see the close proximity you'd been in.

Eddie clumsily made his way to his feet as you did and rubbed his sweaty hands on the rough denim covering his thighs.

"Go out with me. Pizza. Tonight." Eddie blurted out, his voice cracking.

You blinked a few times and shifted on your feet.

"U-uh.. yeah, sure!" You mentally slapped yourself.

He slowly nodded and jumped on the balls of his feet as his eyes flicked between you and the boys that made their way to the stage.

He stepped forward, his hands frantically moving around in his pockets before he pulled out a piece of candy. He wrinkled his nose at the flavor before placing it in your hand and closing your fingers tightly around it.

"So you don't forget. You'll see it and be like 'Oh! Eddie! Sweet, sweet Eddie!' and then you'll remember our date. Tonight." He placed one hand on the wall and coolly leaned against it. "You got a number, sweets?"

You sheepishly nodded before pulling a pen out of your jacket pocket, rolling his sleeve up to write your phone number across his wrist.

His wild curls covered his eyes, but you can see his shit eating grin as he, what you assumed, watched as you wrote on his skin.

You clicked the pen closed before he quickly grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, placing a good smacker on the back of your hand.

You giggled as he stepped away from you, still holding your hand as your arms stretched out.

"See you later, darlin'." He winked at you as he made a clicking sound with his mouth before he trotted back down the aisle toward his friends, swooping his backpack up in the process.

You sighed dreamily as you watched him climb the stairs and flop down on the chair that looked like a throne.

Fuck, you were lucky.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson hurt/comfort #soft!eddie #shy!eddie munson #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blog #eddie munson x reader blurb

[justaaveragereader]

Slashtober🔪||Jigsaw!Wooyoung

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Dom!Wooyoung, Sex Machine, Restraints, Toys, BDSM, Sub!Reader, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Control, Voyeurism, Wooyoung Has Cameras In The Readers Home, Masterbating, If I Missed Anything👀….Lemme Know!

Slashtober Masterlist

The second to last to arrive was none other than Jung Wooyoung. The absolute bane of your existence. With the laugh of a hyena, and the mockery of a clown, he was the one person you couldn’t break no matter what. It didn’t matter how many times you greeted him, how nice you were to him, he was just a constant arrogant jerk. You would’ve thought he was in highschool with the way he acted. He was so obnoxious, he knew how to get under your skin and poke at you. He always greeted you with that fake smile, waving his hand wildly so you couldn’t miss him. He reminded you of that one kid in class that you just wanted to hit with a pencil box due to his constant need to piss off not only the teacher but the entire class. Living right next door to you, he went out of his way to irk you. The most irritating part about it? He knew he was hot shit. He was the one person who knew the effect he had on people. His ego was constantly inflated.

~

“Hey! Hey!” You yelled out, trying your best to get Wooyoungs attention over the loud leaf blower, it was well past 9:30 pm, why he decided to leaf blow so late? One reason, because he’s Jung Wooyoung.

With his headphones over his ears, he danced slightly as he blew the leaves, the street lights being the only form of lighting for him. Deciding you were fed up, you march right over to him. Tapping him on his back, with a slight jump he turns, cutting the leaf blower off. Throwing you his signature smile.

“Why good evening neighbor!”

“Cut the shit Wooyoung, it’s literally night time. Can’t this wait til the morning?!” You semi yell, loud enough so it would annoy him, but low enough to where it wouldn’t awaken any of your neighbors.

“Princess if you wanted to spend some time with me that’s all you had to say.” He says lowering his leaf blower, taking his headphones off, and letting them pool around his veiny neck. Making sure to smile at you through hooded eyes. Ooh he knew what he was doing. Letting a hand run over your face, you let out a groan, clearly annoyed by his antics. Jabbing his chest with your finger you cut your eyes at him..

“Spend time with you my ass. Save the leaf blowing for the a.m. Jung Wooyoung.” Taking your finger off his very firm chest you turn around, marching back to your home. With a stupid grin on his face he calls out your name, you stop half way, turning around to look at him.

“If you want me that’s all you gotta say, Princess!”

Flipping him off you angrily march into your home. Clearly annoyed at his stupid handsome face, that matches horribly with his dumb actions. You decide the best way to blow off some steam is to pull out your hand dandy rose toy. Maybe that was your problem, it had been 3 weeks since Mingi had basically thrown you on display for the neighbors to see. With Wooyoung trotting around at all hours of the night you couldn’t have that slip up, you didn’t want ammo for Wooyoung to use against you.

Throwing the toy on your bed, you make yourself comfortable against your pillows, searching on your phone for some porn to get you in the mood, yet all you can think about is Wooyoung, his eyes, the way his veins bulge from his arm, how his eyes crinkle in the corner when he laughs, how his hands have the perfect amount of bulging veins, the image of his bulging hands choking you makes you drop your phone. Oh no, no, no, you completely want to fuck your annoying neighbor. Letting out a whine you lock your phone, kicking your pants off, letting your panties pool around your ankles. You have one person and one person only on your mind right now. Letting the images run through your head, you are going to make sure you put your rose toy to perfect use. Little did you know while you were bringing yourself to complete bliss, orgasm, after orgasm, you had given your annoying neighbor a front row seat to your pleasure cruise, fueling that blood lust within him, all he wanted to do was play with you.

~

As your eyes cracked open, you tried to move your arms, the realization of not being able to, takes a minute to load into your brain. As you open your eyes further. You wince at the bright red led lights in the room. Since when did you get these lights in your home? Trying your best to move, bringing your hand up to wipe the sleep out of your eyes, suddenly you are blocked. You are not able to move even your wrist. Eyes shooting open, taking in your full surroundings. You are strapped to a cool table, your warm skin immediately warming the table up, with your wrists tied to each side of you, with your feet up on the table with your ankles being strapped down. You quickly turn your head trying to soak in what is all around you.

“Oh my god. Oh My God!” You slightly yell out, not believing where you are. The red led lights are almost blinding to you. Trying to find any way out, even suddenly a deep voice fills the room.

“Rise and shine Princess.” Voice clearly being distorted, that nickname runs a chill down your spine. Trying to shut your legs, you close your eyes so hard the corners of them crinkle.

“Where the fuck am I?” You semi yell out, trailing off at the end of your sentence due to a door opening, all you see is a pitch black hallway, you can make out a figure of someone standing there. Was this person going to watch you? You see their pearly white teeth in the dark hallway, causing a chill of fear to shoot through you, turning your head away, you try to find something else to focus on.

“You know we always enjoy the show you put on for us.” The disfigured voice says. You can hear a chipper undertone to their tone despite it being distorted.

Your eyes shoot to the figure with its teeth still on display, you can’t see their eyes but you know they are there.

“Wh-what show?” You stutter out, trying to sound as brave as possible. Just when you thought the smile on the figure's face couldn’t grow any bigger. You watch as their eyes trail to the right of your body, a white screen with static comes to, you are shocked by what you see. On four different small screens there you were. One screened showed when you were getting your spine rearranged by Mingi, another screen when you were getting fucked by God knows what in your bedroom, the other when you were getting fucked by the three masked men, and the other when you were playing with your rose toy, silently moaning Wooyoungs name. Heat rises to your neck. You are embarrassed, yet turned on. To see your face in such bliss numerous times. Remembering each way one of them fucked you, remembering the way Woos veins bulged when he was holding the leaf blower. Your eyes continue to grow wide with each movement in the videos. The figure in the hallway soaks you in, watching you feverishly. Drifting his eyes down to your pussy, he watches the way it clenches around nothing, the way your arousal beads, dripping down slowly.

“What a slut.” He mutters out, clearly amused by what he sees. Stepping back, he leaves the door open. Your eyes are still never leaving the screens. It never dawns on you that there are cameras in your home, taken back by the fact that you can see a 4k version of you getting your shit railed by various people. You try your best to shut your legs, trying to get any sense of stimulation on your neglected cunt just as you are getting fed up, the figure walks back in with his head low so you can’t make out his face, you can see bits of his face, his nose is so sharp, you can’t make out much due to the red lights distorting his face. You do catch a beautiful side profile of him. You can see streaks of makeup on him though. Making his way around the table you see his hands rise, he is blind folding you. Trying your best to shimmy out of the restraints, you want to feel whoever is above you, their hands, their hands could choke you and you’d be grateful for it. Keeping your head straight you don’t even try to put up a fight because you know you want this. You wanna see how far this person is going to take you, are they going to bring you past the tipping point like Mingi? Are they going to rough house you like the masked men?

“Such an obedient girl, princess.” Putting the blind fold over your eyes, it was lace, while it disfigured a lot of things in your view, you could still make out certain things. You could see the person above you, hovering over you. You could still see the red lights.

“Such an obedient girl, I might just reward you.” Wooyoung whispers out, voice laced with need yet you can still hear a playful hue to his tone despite it being disfigured. The thought of you being rewarded made your heart beat fast, how would you be rewarded? With the options being endless, you gulp, nodding your head to the person above you.

Stepping away Wooyoung leaves the room, you can hear his steps fade away, your nerves are eating you up. You aren’t sure if he is even going to come back. When you hear a loud boom, like he’s moving heavy equipment. You hear the wheels to something moving at a fast pace down to the room you are in. Craning your neck you try to make out what you see, all you can make out is that the figure is right by your spread legs, hooking something up in the room. Biting your lip you lay back down, trying your best to calm your nerves. While excitement and anxiety can often be mistaken for the same feeling, you know the feeling in your body is something that you need itched.

While you are lost in your mind, you feel something cool brush against your folds. The sudden intrusion makes your body jump slightly. Looking down you squint your eyes behind the blind fold trying to piece together what is sitting below your feet, he leaves the room once more, grabbing more things before he returns. Standing on the side of you, his hard cock by the side of your face he lets out a small groan looking at your body, your breast out with your nipples hardened, your glistening cunt spread open, with your mouth slightly gaping ready for whatever Woo was going to give you.

“Are you always this cock hungry?” The sudden sound of the distorted voice takes you by surprise, making your body slightly jump, you have no shame, it had been weeks since you last saw Mingi and you needed a release, the rose only could do so much.

“Y-Yes.” You whisper out, shivers riddling your body, yet the fire that ignited in your core was fully in a blaze. Letting out a chuckle, Wooyoung presses his hardened cock to the side of your face, your mouth dropping open further. He grabs the side of your face pressing his hard length into your warm cheek. When your ears hear a loud click, a loud moan leaves your throat immediately. You feel something fill your warm cunt. Clicking the remote twice more the speed picks up, the pace going steady. Grabbing your face once more he unzips his pants, pulling his hard cock out.

“Be a good girl and open your mouth.”

Removing your teeth from your lip, the thrusting of the dildo between your legs has your body slightly moving up and down on the table with each thrust. Trying your best to open your mouth as wide as you can so you can take Wooyoungs cock in your mouth. Rubbing the tip around your lips, your tongue hungrily looking for his cock, licking up as much pre cum as you can, you kiss his length before he taps the head of his cock on your tongue. Pulling back he tucks himself back in his pants. Clicking the remote once more. The machine moves faster in and out of you. It dawns on you that he’s not going to actually give you what you want. This is a reward for him, not for you. Pulling away from you, he pockets the remote to the sex machine, stepping back.

He places nipple clamps on your hard nubs, hitting another small remote, sending a small electric current to your nipples making your back arch. You let out the loudest moan yet, the sound not even daring to bounce off of the walls. Grabbing the side of your face he rubs your cheek against his hard length again. Cocking his head back, the heat of your skin, mixing with the sweet sounds you were making, had his cock throb with need. Hitting the remote once again another shock gets sent to your nipples. Your jaw dropping at the feeling. Pulling back your pussy lips, he wedges a vibrator between them, positioning it so it’s right on your clit, testing the remote he hits a button, the vibration startling you, making your legs tense at the feeling. Your mouth drops open once again, taking in this new sensation.

“God, you are such a slut truly. Always so cock hungry. If I had knew you were like this I could’ve fucked you sooner.”

Letting out a small laugh, he pushes away once more, hitting his remote so it shocks your nipples again. As he pulls back you hear the sound of his shoes exiting the room.

“Please, please!” You quickly shout, you aren’t even sure what you are asking for. Maybe it was for a harsher grip on reality? Or maybe it was for permission to cum?

“Keep begging baby, it does something to me everytime.” He groans out, continuing to exit the room. Gripping his cock harshly, right before he exits the room he speaks to you one final time.

“Scream as loud as you want, baby, no one can hear you but me.”

Making his way to his office, with various screens, one watching all the various rooms in your home, the other with views to all the others neighbors homes, and then biggest screen of all the one with your naked body on it, while the sex machine fucks a dildo in and out of you. Hitting the remote the clamps shock your nipples again, your body jolting at the feeling once more. Letting out a loud moan you clench your fists. He teeters you on the edge of an orgasm each time, just as he gets any sign that you are going to cum he cuts it, or changes the pace.

Your body is riddled with sweat, and arousal drips down your ass, the sex machine continuously thrusts a dildo in and out of you, a squelching noise fills your ears each time. Clenching your toes, you feel the vibration of the vibrator between your legs with the timed shocks to your nipples. Your body feels a billion things at once. Just as you think you are about to cum he stops everything all together, giving your body a couple minutes to cool down before he starts having the equipment pick up pace once more.

Taking his cock out of his pants, he spits on his hand, wrapping his hand tightly around his hard cock, giving it two quick pumps, letting out a small moan of his own, he tries to match the pace of the sex machine that’s thrusting in and out of you. He can see your slick covering the piece of rubber, taking him to an even higher feeling he pauses his hand. Not trying to blow his load already, he can hear the sounds of your moaning dancing in his ears. It fills a void in him that he never knew he needed, ever since he moved in you had always been a brat to him so to see you so submissive and so willingly giving yourself to him it sparked the match in him.

Deciding enough was enough, he wanted to reach an orgasm just as bad as you did, constantly bringing himself to the edge just to stop and halt the activities, he cuts on everything at once, at high speed. The sex machine fucking you at a inhumane pace, turning the shock levels up on the nipple clamps, and cutting the vibrator on a high pulse pattern he cuts the microphone on so you can hear him jacking off to you. Biting his lip he lets out a small groan which you completely miss due to your loud screaming. Tears are soaking the lace blindfold, your mouth constantly in an O formation, while your throat feels so dry from all the moaning you’ve been doing.

His hand tightly wrapped around his spit soaked cock, he cuts the microphone back on, you can hear the sounds of him stroking himself once more. A tingling sensation spreads out through your body, whoever this was, was enjoying himself just as much as you had been.

“You can count how many restraints are holding down your body. Every time you cum, that’ll be one restraint I remove from your body.”

Letting out a loud moan, you bite your lip trying your best to focus on an orgasm before he slows down the machine once more, sending a slight shock to your nipples. Your body is dripping with sweat now, the cool room is now heated.

“Ho-How am I su-supposed to cum, wh-when you keep teasing m-me.” You huff out.

Letting a sadistic smile grace his face, you can still hear the wet noises of him pumping his cock.

“We are playing my game, princess.”

Your legs shook, as they are held up and open, you couldn’t help but let out a loud groan, toes continuously curling. The warm air in the room hitting your warm dripping cunt, as the sex machine slid the dildo rapidly in and out of you. The leg restraints from the table made it impossible to close your legs. As your body writhed in pleasure, Wooyoung sat behind the large screen watching you be denied of an orgasm over and over again. The sheer look of pleasure and desperation coursing through your body was enough to bring him to his own pleasure.

~

You blink yourself awake, in your own bed. Looking around your…. bedroom? Sitting up slowly, you blink the sleep out of your eyes. Was it all a dream? Were you truly losing your mind? Gathering yourself you slowly rise out of bed, wincing at the aching between your legs, your limbs feel so sore. Rolling your shoulder out, you make your way to the bathroom, getting a good look at yourself in the mirror. Cutting the sink on you splash some water in your face trying to gather your thoughts, trying to gather yourself. You bend down to splash more water when you see a piece of paper taped to the wall behind you. Turning around quickly you peek your head out of the bathroom, trying to see if someone besides you was there.

Quickly snatching the paper down, you open the inside of it, written in red ink you read out loud…

“How about we play another game soon?”

Tossing the paper on the floor, you quickly look around your home, trying to find if there is any sign of anyone else here. As you walk in a disarray of panic, trying to find who or what put that paper in your home. Wooyoung watches you with a huge smile on his face. Your state of panic makes him giggle. Cutting the screen to different angles of you in your own home freaking out, he walks out of the room grabbing his leaf blower, making his way towards his lawn. You are still running around filled with worry. As you hear the annoying sound of Wooyoungs leaf blower. Quickly making a beeline for outside. Bare foot, completely in your pajamas you run straight into Wooyoung, catching him “off guard” cutting his leaf blower off, his eyes take in your frightened state you are out of breath trying to explain to Wooyoung what happened in your home.

“And, and this paper Woo! It came out of nowhere! I swear Woo you gotta believe me, it wasn’t there when I walked into the bathroom. Please, please believe me.”

The sound of you begging makes his body do a slight shiver, biting his lip and nodding his head listening closely to you. Putting his hands on your shoulders, you feel your body heat up, his hands on your body feels so familiar, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

“How about I go see this paper and scope out your home to see if anyone is in there. Does that sound okay?”

As he finishes his sentence out of his peripheral vision he sees the window to your bedroom slide open, he knows it’s Hongjoong making his way out of your home with the paper. Nodding your head just as you are about to turn around,Wooyoung grabs you back trying to buy Hongjoong more time to make his way down from your window. Shrugging off his long sleeve button up he pulls it over your shoulders. Pulling it tightly around you.

“You are out here in your pajamas, no socks, and no shoes, despite our Tom and Jerry feud I don’t want you to get cold.

Just then it dawns on you that you are in your pajamas, the cool breeze nips at your skin. Pulling his long sleeve closer you nod, smiling at him, you both turn around and make your way towards your home. Letting you walk in first, Wooyoung insists on wiping his feet saying he will be with you in a second.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Wooyoungs whisper yells at Hongjoong.

“Oh fuck off, like you could’ve did any better.” He whispers harshly to Woo. Rolling his eyes, he and Hongjoong start to bicker, when your voice calls out to Wooyoung, he can hear your footsteps coming close to him.

“S-Sorry! These pesky bugs! Didn’t want any coming into your home.” Wooyoung says loudly, loud enough so Hongjoong can hear, letting out an annoyed huff. Hongjoong begins to make his way back to his home.

Walking behind you, before Wooyoung closes the door, he flips off Hongjoong.

“Alright Princess, where do you want me to look first?” His deep voice rings out, a smile sketched on his face. Your body shivers at the way he calls you princess, like you’ve heard it before.

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#slashtober 2023 #slasher!ateez #dom! ateez smut #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours

[quickiesgirl]

In the Kitchen - Wanda Maximoff

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Dom/Sub, Semi-Public Sex, Kitchen Sex, Cunnilingus, 50s Theme, Alternative Universe, My Shitty Writing.

Kinktober 1 - Kitchen Sex

You weren’t entirely thrilled receiving an invitation to the summer block party, thrown by your neighbor, Agnes. As fun as it may seem to fellow Westview residents, you rarely cared for the large, interactive crowds.

Instead, you enjoyed being in the presence of your family, whereas your wonderful wife, Wanda, was a social butterfly. Yet, even with these different traits, you still found some interesting ways to work around them.

Wanda glanced over her shoulder watching you walk through the kitchen door, well-dressed, and fresh out of the shower. 

“Almost ready, my love?” She asked with the sweetest, most loving tone, untying the white, laced apron around her waist to lay it on top of the countertop, watching as you walked through the kitchen door, well-dressed, and fresh out of a shower.

“Almost,” You repeated, leaning into the side of the counter, feeding the thin, leather belt through your trousers, noticing the silence that filled the active household, “Did the boys already head outside?”

“Yeah, they’re out on the lawn playing with Señor Scratchy.”

You took a moment to admire the missis. She looked absolutely stunning, standing there, dressed in her new blouse, bought specially for this occasion, and a bright, flowy pencil skirt that stopped mid-knee, hugging her hips in just the right places.

You came up from behind and wrapped your arms around her waist, chest pressing into her back while your chin lowered upon her shoulder with pursed, pouty lips, “Sure we can’t stay home today?” 

“Honey, we have to show up to the block party, Agnes is counting on us to bring the pies. I just hope I followed her grandmother's recipe correctly..." She said, glancing down at the recipe card, squinting her eyes, and knitting her brows together at the barely eligible writing scribbled across it. 

Wanda quickly caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her attention was now set on the warmth spreading through her entire body as your lips began to lay kisses along the back of her neck, her floral-scented perfume filling your nose as you hummed softly and allowed your hands to caress her round, curved hips. 

Wanda sighed softly, cheeks growing a shade of scarlet as she tilted her neck to the side, allowing you more space to do as you please. 

Intoxicated by your touch and attention.

You move up slowly, soft lips brushing against the ridge of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, whispering in that dominant tone, “mhm, least I’ll have my gorgeous wife by my side,” 

She spun around in your embrace, laying her hands upon your clothed frame and sliding from your waist up to your breasts to adjust the collar of your long-sleeved button-up. 

“You know, no one would mind us being a few minutes late,” You suggested knowingly, inching your face closer to hers, “Just a little taste, baby?” 

Wanda immediately looked around seeing the many open windows surrounding the two of you, along with the frequently used door leading into the kitchen, “In here? W-what if someone sees us, or the kids walk in on us?” 

“No one will catch us, darling. I’ll be listening for the door the entire time.”

That look on your face tells everything she needs to know, all your wants and desires, without even having to read your mind. It made her ache for your touch. “Promise?” 

“I promise.” You smirked, watching her slowly move in, lacing her arms around your neck and connecting her lips to yours for a deep, intimate kiss.

Before she could think, you pinned her to the kitchen counter and grabbed ahold of her upper thighs to swiftly place her on top, causing a soft gasp to escape her lips. Your action sends a wave of heat between her thighs. She loved it when you’re forceful.

Wanda slowly kicked off her pearl-colored kitten heels, dropping them to the floor as she draped her arms over your shoulders, feeling your hands massage the underside of her smooth legs, the metal of your wedding ring cold and prominent against her skin, reminding her of the undying love you share for each other. 

With a twist of her wrist, her fingers blazed with red translucent energy, using her powers to suddenly close the kitchen shutters that looked in on the dining room table and living room, giving the two of you some much-needed privacy.  

Wasting no time, you pushed her skirt up and discarded her white panties to the floor, kneeling down, face inches away from her pretty, hairless pussy, already glistening with arousal. 

Eyes fluttering shut, taking in her sweet aroma with each breath before pressing your warm, wet tongue just above her entrance, licking a long, teasingly slow strip between her folds till you reach her sensitive bud, feeling her pulsate beneath your touch. 

Wanda sucked in a sharp breath, instantly dropping her hands up to grab ahold of your hair and push you deeper, showing you exactly where she needed you the most, causing you to devilishly smirk at your beautiful wife before pulling her hood back ever so slightly to reveal her swollen, sensitive clitoris, finally giving her some well-deserved attention. 

 The second the tip of your tongue swirled around, a pretty moan escaped her lips. Her head arching back as she squeezes your hair between her fingers, feeling the heat already pooling in her stomach. The weight of her gorgeous thighs now strung over your steady shoulders. 

“Best keep those eyes on me, sweetheart…” You said in less of a suggestion and more of an order, “I wouldn't want you to miss the show.” 

Wanda’s heavy gaze lowered, lashes batting as she watched your tongue work and maneuver her sweet spots between those pink, puffy lips, licking and teasing till her legs were trembling around your head. 

Your mind was set on one thing, getting a taste of that sweet cum gushing across your lips. 

 Her little pornographic sounds began to build, more and more, until they were spilling out of the kitchen. She was struggling to remain quiet. 

Wanda bunched the beautifully old-fashioned material of her dress in the palm of her hand, digging her long, painted nails into the fabric as her other hand reached down to grip the edge of the wooden counter, searching for any form of support so she could roll her hips on your tongue. 

A coil lay in her stomach, tensing and tightening, pulling her closer to release. 

“Mhm, that’s it, pretty baby,” You growl, grabbing hold of her hips over the soft material of her skirt to arch her pelvis forward and hold her still while you sink into her wet, tight hole, allowing your tongue to side in and out relentlessly, stroking her velvety walls while you fucked her forcefully. 

“Please, I'm gonna come! Y-you're gonna- make me cu-mmuhh~” She reached her tipping point, eyes rolling to the back of her head and her body tensing under your touch, unable to hold back any longer. 

Her cunt contracted, releasing her sweet juices along your tastebuds, painting your tongue like so many times before, yet every time, it was just as sweet as the last.

You happily cleaned her up, and slowly dragged your hands down, planting gentle kisses along her plush inner thigh while you ogled your wife, who was beautiful as ever with that dazed, euphoric look across her face.

The sound of the front door slamming shut instantly caught your attention. Your eyes broaden, listening to Billy shout from the living room, “Mom? Mom? Hey, where is everyone?”

Wanda gasped, hurriedly standing to her feet, hands flattening down her skirt, and slipping back into her heels as you swiped her panties from the floor and tucked them into your back pocket.

“We’re in the kitchen.” You spoke up, dragging your thumb over your bottom lip, collecting the rest of her juices to lick away before gazing in her direction, “We’ll be finishing this later.”

She blushingly smiled, trying to hide it as soon as Billy and Tommy rushed through the swinging door with pure excitement on their faces.

You made her needy, sick thoughts begin to wander, anticipating sundown when the kids are tucked away in bed, peacefully asleep while their moms finally have some alone time. 

Wanda Maximoff Smut Taglist: @sunflowerharrington @wandsmxmff @cantthinkofauserlololol @pikachupepito2 @Natashamacimoff69 @likefirenrain @olsensnpm @cristin-rjd @demxnicprxncess @acimadetudorubron

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#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda mcu #wandavision #quickiesgirl writing

[heesdreamer]

JUST BE

PAIRING ➩ sunghoon x reader

SUMMARY ➩ classic cliche bad boy x good girl reader paired for a class project but with a few modifications lol…

WARNINGS ➩ violence, injuries, sexual content, sunghoon is a dick head kinda, heeseung is DEFINITELY a dick head

WC ➩ 18k (almost dethroned skin on skin)

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ so this sat in my notes unfinished for months.. which i never stop a work halfway and im not sure why i did considering this flowed out of me after i picked it up again but it’s NOT PROOFREAD and mainly written at 3am i think you maybe know the drill if ur familiar with me and my work lol.. not my favorite but i like the dynamics and i hope you do too

College was almost too easy for you. You were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, to get the mean professor or the class with they heavy workload that you ultimately failed when you couldn’t withstand the pressure.

But it hadn’t came and you were feeling extremely lucky that the universe had seemingly spared you, atleast for your first year.

You always took school seriously, maybe too serious according to some of your highschool friends but you felt pride when you got high praise and it calmed you to know your hard work granted better results.

Still, it wasn’t like you had become some grade obsessed monster who didn’t feel emotion outside of the urgency of a deadline.

Quite the opposite in your humble opinion. Another thing you prided yourself on was your constant good attitude. You liked to smile at peers in the hallway and help teachers tidy up after a long lecture. It made you feel good to be kind and bubbly despite the stress that sometimes ate away at you.

So it was almost an impossible sight for you classmates as they watched your current dilemma unfold, the other shoe dropping with a loud smack the echoed inside your head.

“Did you hear me Ms. Y/N? I said your partner for the semester is Park Sunghoon.” Your professor was croaking from directly in front of you, your preferred seating being the first row in the room.

You were sat frozen in your chair, hand gripped around your perfectly sharpened pencil so tight you could feel the wood croaking in your palm. You usual smiley face was blank and stony, zoning out into the space in front of you as you wished for it to swallow you whole.

“It’s not that big of a deal Y/N.” Jungwon, your closest friend, was grimacing as he looked at you, standing infront of you and titling his body so he could peer at your unmoving expression. He was waving a hand in front of your face like he was trying to snap you out of a trance.

“There’s no point in lying.” Your other, and more pessimistic, friend Riki was speaking now and you let his bored tone seep into your ear. “She’s fucked.”

This snapped you out of it, letting out a loud groan and slamming forward onto the table dramatically, Jungwon’s hand coming out just in time to stop you from slamming your forehead onto the hard wood.

“Okay let’s not get theatrical here.” He was sighing through a wince of pain as he wiggled his fingers against your forehead. You slightly lifted it so he could take his hand back before dropping it back down with another groan. “I mean how bad could it be? Have you ever even talked to him?”

You briefly considered these two questions.

How bad could it be? Try absolutely, without a doubt, entire academic career ruining level of bad.

His second question was a bit more difficult. You had technically spoken to Park Sunghoon on multiple occasions but you’re not quite positive he had even realized it was you he was talking to. He had a tendency to not particularly pay attention to the people around him, and especially not their feelings.

The first day you’d spoken to him was actually your first day in general. You’d walked into your first lesson with a bright smile, hair perfectly pinned back and clutching your books to your chest in excitement for new things to learn and people to interact with.

Said books you were clutching didn’t last more than a few seconds in your relaxed grip once Park Sunghoon entered the room, his eyebrows furrowed as he turned the corner before registering you were still standing there in an attempt to pick which seat you wanted. His large frame was smacking into your back and sending you, and all your supplies, sprawling across the floor.

He hadn’t helped you up, or even looked back in your direction to see if you’d been seriously injured.

Your next few interactions weren’t as dramatic or grand scale but you remembered each one and so did your friends, considering you spent months complaining about each and every single time he managed to ruin your perfectly good day.

“Do you remember when he said it looked like she had gum in her hair because she got those new hair pins?” Riki was remarking from your bed behind you, a slight amused tone in his voice at the memory of your angry red face tearing them out of your bangs at lunch.

“That wasn’t nearly as bad as the time he stole her essay idea, and then didn’t even do the essay.” Jungwon didn’t sound as amused as Riki did as he recounted the story. He was a sweet boy by nature, one of things you bonded over at the start of your friendship and he wasn’t the biggest fan of your classmate because of this.

You listened to them talk and felt yourself getting more and more agitated, something that was extremely rare for you to show visibly. You pushed your forehead deeper into the wood desk, wishing it would let you mesh atoms together so it could completely swallow you up.

The bad mood hadn’t subsided by the time your hangout was over and the boys were leaving your dorm, wishing you good luck in talking to Park Sunghoon.

Your current biggest problem was exactly that. Despite being almost certain you’d be doing all the project work yourself, something you didn’t mind considering you held doubt he knew a single fact about the subjects appointed to you , you still felt the obligatory need to extend the offer of working together.

However you were realizing now you had absolutely no idea where to find him. It was increasingly rare these days that he was actually in class, only seeing him sometimes showing up minutes after it had ended and talking in a hushed tone with the teacher. Those days you’d slowly pack your stuff into each neat folder, trying to catch a word of their conversation.

You never had any luck and then he’d be gone again, leaving your nosy curiosity completely unsatisfied.

You imagined you could send him a message on some form of social media but that would require following him first and the thought of him spending even 20 seconds in confusion about your sudden follow before you were able to send an explanation message made your stomach turn.

So you had decided that the next day you’d march into class and sit and wait for him after it had ended, unmoving in your seat and forcing him to communicate with you.

You’d gotten prepared the night before, running over your convincing speech and tightening your ponytail before you entered the classroom with a determined look on your normally bubbly face. Your plans were immediately deterred when you went to sit down and found him already there.

Park Sunghoon was not only in class but he was sat in your seat, manspreading carelessly with an extremely bored expression. You knew it had to be on purpose but you couldn’t recall a time where he’d ever paid enough attention to you to know where your seat was.

You faltered for a few seconds before annoyance took over again and you refreshed your attempt at a look of intimidation. You stomped your way over to the desk and placed your books down on it with a mild slam, wincing at the loud noise you’d accidentally caused.

He didn’t react to the sudden spike in volume but he slowly trailed his eyes from your books up your arms, stopping when he met your gaze to raise an eyebrow.

“I’m Y/N.” You blurted out and you stuck a hand in his direction, attempting to initiate a handshake. “I’m your partner for the semester.”

It was silent for a few seconds and you looked down at where he sat, nudging your hand forward awkwardly like he couldn’t see it directly in front of his face. He ignored it and watched you with an amused look on his handsome face.

“Why are you introducing yourself?” He was finally saying and this took you off guard, the confirmation he knew who you were both surprising you and irritating you further at the implication his previous comments and interactions towards you were intentional.

You huffed and brought your hand back down to your side. “So you know who I am?”

“Row A, always raising your hand. Tight ponytail.” He stretched out the word ‘tight’ and you frowned at the innuendo. “Lacking your usual cartoonish grin but, yeah, I know who you are.”

“My smile is not cartoonish” You were hissing through your teeth at him and he smirked at that being the only thing you could manage to deny, too honest to refute his other claims even when you were frustrated.

He raised his hands in mock surrounded and your frown deepened, an uncharacteristically clouded expression taking over as your worst fears were confirmed. He was going to make this truly difficult, maybe even impossible. You resigned to sitting in the spot next to him, one over from your usual place.

You could feel him looking at you as the professor began talking, sneaking quick glances and sometimes downright staring holes in the side of your head.

For once in your entire academic career, you didn’t participate in class even remotely. You let your worries for the grand picture distract you from learning anything small today, zoning out with your lips in a pout until you noticed everybody packing up. Somehow you managed to fast forward through the entire thing.

Sunghoon was standing at the same time as you and as you made your way out of the room, he stepped infront of you and blocked your path completely. You tracked your eyes up his broad chest to his face and waited for him to add on to your already terrible day.

Instead he was sticking his hand out, similarly to the way you did earlier whilst waiting for a returned handshake. However his hand wasn’t fully open, clutching a small sticky note between his fingers and wagging it impatiently when you took too many seconds to stare at it in confusion. The second it was in your grip he was turning on his heel, out the door before you could speak or read it.

You glanced down at the paper in your hands with furrowed eyebrows, taking a second to decipher what he’d given you so abruptly.

When you finally pieced it together you felt a small surge of hope pass through you, smiling softly as you left the classroom, clutching Park Sunghoon’s phone number in your hand.

——

The little ball of hope you’d been presented didn’t last very long, disintegrating into a handful of nothingness before you’d even really had any time to appreciate its arrival.

You’d swallowed your pride and sent Park Sunghoon a text, very formative and stern in a request for him to meet you at the library before it closed. He hadn’t replied but you knew he had seen it and for some reason you thought he would actually show up despite having no evidence to that fact.

“Still waiting for somebody Y/N?” The boy who worked the front desk at the library was pushing past you with a cart of returned books, finishing cleaning up before he could close.

“Yeah I’m sorry Jake.” You frowned slightly and kept your tone polite, feeling guilty for slowing down his process.

He smiled at you and shook his head like it was no big deal, causing you to smile in return and bow your head slightly in appreciation. You were beginning to think you should just pack up and go to avoid causing him more issue until you heard a throat being cleared from behind you.

You immediately tensed up at the familiarity of it and you turned around in your seat to see Park Sunghoon standing a few feet away, watching Jake walk away with a raised eyebrow and a curious expression.

“You’re late.” You spat at him as your face dropped and you sighed, spinning back in your chair and fidgeting nervously with the opened book in front of you.

“Are you nice to everybody except me?” He was ignoring your nagging and making his way towards the table, surprising you by sitting directly next to you instead of the open seats across. “Where’s that Y/N classic smile?”

You shot him a glare but couldn’t help feeling slightly bad considering what he was saying. It was totally against your nature to be rude to somebody, even people who didn’t treat you the best necessarily.

“I take studies really seriously.” You explained to him, trying to soften your voice “And I don’t have a classic smile I just smile like a normal person, unlike you.”

He looked thrown off by your sudden banter and let out a scoff. “I smile.” He immediately argued.

“No you don’t, you smirk. There’s a big difference.” You were closing the book in front of you and he gave you a mildly confused glance, despite keeping his nonchalant demeanor. “The library closes in ten minutes, I told you that you were late.”

“Can’t you ask your friend to have some patience?” His words confused you for a second before you realized he was referring to Jake.

You scoffed in disbelief and shook your head, standing from your chair and starting to pack your belongings back into your bag. He groaned like he thought you were too sensitive and leaned forward slightly so he was still in your field of vision.

“What did I do now? You’re mad because I said you had friend? Aren’t you like friends with everybody?” He was droning on in a bored tone as he watched you continue packing, waiting for you to take the bait.

“I’m not mad.” You shook your head and gave him a forced smile. “I am simply coming to the realization my semester partner has no care for other peoples time. I wanted to give you the opportunity to actually prove yourself for once during your years at college but it’s clear you’re not interested so I’ll be going now.”

You glanced at him once last time as you spoke and you felt a wave of guilt come over you again at the way he tensed and his jaw ticked at your words. You looked away quickly in shame and gave him a small wave as you walked away, nodding at Jake as he said he’ll see you tomorrow.

——

“You said that?” Jungwon’s loud voice was overthrowing the sound of your upset groan as he rounded his way from the kitchen. “Y/N, how could you say that?”

“What are you talking about man, its Park Sunghoon. I think it’s awesome.” Riki was chiming in from the couch.

You were sprawled across the carpeted floor in dismay, immediately calling your friends over as you rushed out of the library with teary eyes and guilt from your mean comment.

“I love you Rik, but you finding anything I’ve done cool let’s me know it was something terrible.” Your words were half groaned and he looked offended for half a second before nodding in acceptance.

“I’m going to have to change schools.” You were dramatically continuing on, tugging your sweater over your hands and covering your face to mumble complaints through the fabric.

Jungwon was joining you on the carpet now and slowly feeding you a strawberry he had been cutting up, like an animal he was trying to calm down, and giving you a soft shake of his head. “No you won’t have to change schools. You just need to see him and apologize.”

“That’s the problem, I never see him.” You were mumbling around the strawberry and your other hand was anxiously scratching along the carpet in an attempt to self soothe.

“Well I overheard from Jay that’s he’s going to that stupid frat party I’m going to tonight. I’m sure I could get the two of you in.” Riki was chiming in again from the couch and you vaguely heard Jungwon scolding him, mentioning how you’d never been to a party before and never would when you were suddenly sitting up.

“That’s perfect.” The speed in which you sat up startled the both of them and they looked at you with confusion. “I’ll go to the party and apologize.”

“What?” Jungwon was raising an eyebrow as Riki clapped excitedly. “You’re going to go to a party, Y/N what’s gotten into you?”

“Correction Jungwon, we are going to a party.” You were grinning for the first time that day, excited at the idea of having a good night and getting the chance to right your wrongs, not paying any attention to the way all of the color drained from your best friends face.

——

The excitement hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes after entering the door.

The first thing that registered for you, was how much you underestimated what a frat party would be like, assuming it was played up and exaggerated in movies for the sake of entertainment.

Turns out, it was shockingly similar in the way it visibly was out of control and stunk like vomit and cheap beer. Your shoes felt sticky against the wood floors and you tried with all your might to keep a grimace off your face. People were greeting you excitedly, some making drunk comments about your rare appearance at a social event but seemingly friendly in their surprise at seeing you out for once.

The smile on your face wasn’t a good showcase of how you actually felt considering you were slowly getting more and more overwhelmed and the night was barely beginning. You’d almost forgotten why you were there in the first place in your building panic.

Jungwon had stayed close to you the entire night, looking similarly upset and irritated but wearing it openly on his face unlike you who at least was attempting to pretend to be enjoying yourself.

He was practically glued to your back as he shuffled around the main area, avoiding the shoulders of tall frat boys and the elbows of drunken college girls flailing around the dance floor.

“You guys could atleast try to look like you’re not being held hostage.” Riki had at some point wandered away to greet his sporty friends but he was now circling back with a drink in hand as he leaned down to speak to you, an eyebrow raised in disapproval.

You furrowed your eyebrows and gave him your best attempt at a casual expression, nudging Jungwon to do the same awkwardly, both of you dropping into frowns when your friend simply let out an amused chuckle.

“I just need some air.” You were shaking your head and putting your full cup down on the counter behind you, gesturing towards your friends sternly. “Stay with him, I’ll be back.”

You swiftly made your way away from them, ignoring Jungwon mumbling about not needing a babysitter, heading towards the slider door you’d seen briefly earlier.

By the time you’d made it over there and thrown it open, you’d sent hundreds of wishes to the universe that nobody would be out there. It was dark out on the small balcony but from what you could tell, your prayers were answered.

Your hands were touching the cold metal of the railing as you leaned your upper half over it slightly, taking deep breaths and shutting your eyes tight to try to bring your nerves down.

It was easy to be social and friendly in casual spaces like a classroom, quick conversations in the hallways that held no substance or weight came naturally to you and made your head feel lighter after a heavy work load but you’d never been a fan of large dense crowds in intimate spaces.

“Please don’t tell me you’re about to start singing.” You froze at the sound of somebody talking, spinning around to see you had clearly missed the other person leaning against the wall of the balcony in your haste to escape the party.

Park Sunghoon was stood casually, ankle crossed over the other as he watched you from the shadows. Your eyebrow quirked up at the burning red ash hanging off his lip and he shrugged softly at your curious glance.

“Why would I start singing?” You almost snapped the words but reeled your emotions in, remembering suddenly that you were meant to find him and apologize tonight.

“Looks like a disney princess, acts like a disney princess… you do the math.” He was answering like it was obvious and you were regretting your plan for the hundredth time that night.

You ignored his obvious attempt to bait you despite your instinct begging you to ask him what he meant by that, unable to tell if it was a diss or a begrudged compliment. You were taking a step towards him awkwardly with a sheepish expression and his raised eyebrow made another appearance. “Listen Park..”

“Please don’t make me listen to an apology monologue.” He was quickly interrupting you and your mouth dropped open in disbelief, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Consider it forgiven, plus you weren’t exactly wrong anyways.”

He was looking at you intensely but you couldn’t quite place what his expression was saying considering how dark it was, only relying on the reflective light of whatever he was smoking to provide some clarity.

“Great, so I came to this stupid party for no reason.” You were relieved he had seemingly forgiven you despite the awkward tension in the air but now you felt more defeated, having wasted an outfit and an entire night that you could’ve been in bed comfortable and studying during.

You sat down on one of the chairs around the balcony with a sigh, half laying down in social exhaustion. He let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh and then he was moving away from the wall and sitting down in another chair across from you.

He was easier to see now and you scanned his outfit as he rounded into the chair, feeling embarrassed suddenly at his casual attire and tightening your cardigan around your middle to try to hide the obvious effort you applied.

“Are you implying you came all the way to your first party just to see me?” His voice was mocking but not particularly rude, regardless it caused heat to rise to your cheeks. “How’d you even know I’d be here?”

“Riki said…” You were mumbling as you shrugged and avoided looking at him, suddenly realizing how weird your whole plan could seem from an outside perspective.

“Your tall friend.” He was stating in confirmation and you nodded. You were slightly thrown off that he knew what your friends looked like, along with the fact he had either just assumed it was your first party or paid attention enough to know you didn’t go out much.

The two of you didn’t say anything after that for a moment, only the sound of his inhales around what you could now see was a cigarette and the low thumping of music on the other side of the glass door, breaking up the silence.

You were trying not to stare too hard at him but you found it weird he had accepted so quickly the rude things you’d said, sitting out in the cold across from you like you were friends casually taking a smoke break.

Park Sunghoon typically fell pretty high on your list of stress inducers, your other wise easy going days and personality helping you breeze through most weeks without any issues. So it felt beyond strange to be finding comfort in the silence that came alongside his presence.

It didn’t last long however, only extending around ten minutes before there was loud banging against the slider door. Sunghoon didn’t move, just carelessly glancing over but you jumped up out of your seat and smoothed down your dress.

Riki was standing on the other side of the door, his fist pressed against it from where he’d just been slamming on it. His sharp eyebrows were furrowed in irritation and you gave him a confused glare before he was gesturing over his shoulder to where Jungwon was currently in the middle of the dance floor.

“Oh wow.” You heard Sunghoon breathe a laugh from his spot in the chair, the sight of your usually uptight friend dancing around with a sloshing cup, throwing the both of you off. “That’s probably not good.”

“Yeah.” You let out in a rush, glancing back at him and then towards Riki again apologetically. “I should probably go.”

You’re not sure why you said it, feeling immediately embarrassed when he gave you an amused look and shrugged his wide shoulders like he didn’t require you to say goodbye to him.

You were stumbling away from the porch in a hurry before you could embarrass yourself more, the loud noises of the party immediately hitting you once you slid the glass open to join Riki in an attempt to get Jungwon home.

——

Your normal schedule was already in a complete disarray and you were one more mishap from breaking down, quickly moving through the halls with your backpack clutched to your chest so it didn’t smack against your back as you ran.

“Hi Y/N.” Jake was greeting you casually once you made it to the library, an hour past when you normally liked to be there. “Rough morning?”

You glanced at him from where you were bent over, hands on your knees and you tried to catch your breath. You gave him a small smile and nodded your head, sitting up slowly and placing a book down in front of him gently on the customer service desk.

“Any good?” He was smiling at you as he scanned it, placing it in his return pile and leaning forward on the surface so he could focus in on your response.

“Not sure if it’s your taste but I liked it.” You shrugged at him and you grinned and he nodded his head in understanding, glancing behind you momentarily.

“Your scary friend has been waiting for you I think, by the way.”

You were turning as you spoke, shaking your head at him in amusement. “Riki isn’t scary, he’s just…”

Your words trailed off as you followed his line of sight and quickly realized who he had been referring to. Park Sunghoon was sat at the table nearest to the entrance, leaning back casually and playing with his pen, his classic raised eyebrow as he watched you and Jake interact.

He didn’t say anything but he looked slightly amused at the way your mouth dropped open in surprise, faltering completely.

Giving a smile to Jake and a small wave, you hesitantly made your way over to where Sunghoon was sitting and placed your backpack down on the chair across from him.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” You questioned him with a slow tone and you watched his expression to see if he’d be annoyed at your lack of greeting.

“Library boy said he’d see you tomorrow.” He shrugged like it was an obvious thing to pick up or care about. “And it’s tomorrow.”

You gave him a questioning stare that he held without any issue, slowly sitting down in your chair and trying to decide what approach to take to such a strange conversation. You hadn’t expected to see him again, surely not as soon as you currently were and not in the library.

“Would you rather me have not shown up?” He was cocking an eyebrow at you and you stared at him for a few seconds, trying to decide if he was baiting you into another argument or if he was genuinely trying to understand your current thought process.

You weren’t exactly sure how to answer his question, grateful he had shown up despite your previous out burst but also feeling extremely awkward after your weird interaction at the party. You’d had plans for what to work on today, a list of precise details and assignments you needed to complete, but your mind felt completely blank now looking at him.

He shifted in his seat and you realized you hadn’t answered him yet, clearing your throat quickly and offering him a small smile and a brief nod.

“I’m glad you showed up Park. We have a lot of work to do.” You were chirping out and he scoffed out a laugh at your sudden bright tone, putting back on your usual nice tone and expression. Your eye twitched at his disapproving laugh but you attempted to keep your cherry mood as you pulled open one of your shared classes textbooks.

You could feel him staring at you as you did so and your hands suddenly felt stiff and clammy under his watchful eyes, your movements awkward and clumsy.

“Do I make you nervous or something?” He was suddenly speaking again and you froze where you were bent over to reach the floor and dig through your backpack.

You sat to swiftly to glare at him, fixing your hair when it shifted forward into your face and he smirked slightly again at the familiar look returning to your face. He was leaning back in the chair casually and his arms were crossed as he looked at you, jacket pulled tight on his arms.

“Why on earth would you make me nervous Park.” You were whispering to him but the words were forced and rough, leaning forward with tour elbows on the table.

“Scared maybe?” He was shrugging like it was obvious and you gave him a confused expression, not sure where he would’ve gotten that idea from. “Just assuming considering your guard dogs have been staring at us this entire time.”

“What are you-“ You were shaking your head and trailing when he was lazily glancing over your shoulder as an explanation. You whipped around in your seat just in time to see two familiar faces hurriedly duck behind the nearest book shelf. You could hear Jungwon’s voice complaining in a whisper shout that Riki had bumped him on accident.

You were turning back to the table and groaning loudly, a sound you rarely made outside of your friend group and Sunghoon’s face almost twisted in surprise. You put your head in your hands and avoided looking at him in embarrassment.

“They’re psychotic.” You were announcing, your voice muffled by your sleeves and hair.

“They’re kind of funny.” Sunghoon was saying it like he was reluctant to admit it and you picked your head up to look at him in surprise. His expression remained neutral, as always, as he looked at you. “You guys should come to my friends party this weekend.”

Despite seeing him at the last party, it completely threw you off to hear him so casually mention going to one. Then it dawned on you that he was not only mentioning it, but inviting you and your friends and you completely flushed.

He was still just watching you with that same blank stare and you suddenly felt extremely nervous at his proposition. You didn’t take him as the party type, and you also didn’t know he had friends in the first place let alone ones who were social enough to throw parties. You were shaking your head before you even processed doing it and his eyebrow cocked again.

“We don’t really… party much.” You were awkwardly mumbling out and he gave you a disbelieving look.

“The little one sure seems to.” He responded quickly and you were confused for a second before remembering he had also been a witness to Jungwon’s adventure last time, the sole reason your conversation on the deck had been cut short in the first place.

“Do you always know this much about people?” You changed the topic to try and distract him from the fact you had completely lied about your friends recent habits, sliding your elbows further on the table so you were leaned over it a bit and giving off the impression that you were interrogating him.

For the first time since you’d met him, he looked slightly startled at your sudden statement. His responses were normally quick and witty but he didn’t say anything for a few seconds, watching you with a small hint of bewilderment on his otherwise stiff face.

“No offense but.. I didn’t know you even had friends.” You felt bad for making him uncomfortable and you quickly tried to change the subject back to his invite, thankful to see the tension leave his shoulders as he scoffed at your words.

“None taken. You wouldn’t know them anyways.” He was shrugging and you frowned, priding yourself on being social and friendly with people all over the school. “Different social circles.”

“Try me.” You were blurting out, determined to prove him wrong and show that you didn’t discriminate about who you were friendly to. He gave you a knowing look but you weren’t deterred, a smug expression on your face as you waited for him to name names.

He waited for a few seconds before sighing and sitting up in his seat a bit. “Lee Heeseung?”

Your shoulders dropped at the unfamiliar name, never having even heard it in passing and his smirk widened. He didn’t name anybody else and you were glad considering your ego was already bruised from the first one. He repeated the fact that you ran in different circles and you watched him curiously as he shifted again, checking his phone suddenly that you hadn’t noticed was abandoned on the table.

“Fuck.” He was mumbling under his breath and shoving the device into his pocket, pushing out of his sweet casually and giving you a quick look. “I’ve gotta go, let’s reschedule.”

“But we didn’t even-“ You were pausing in your objection when he was already turning and disappearing out of the library, your hands raising in bewilderment at his sudden departure before you’d even slightly started to work on anything. You let out a sigh and flopped back in your seat.

You sat there for a few moments on self pity before you heard faint whispers and grunts coming behind you and you groaned softly at the reminder you had an audience. Turning your head slightly to let them know you knew they were there.

“Get out here idiots.”

——

Park Sunghoon hadn’t responded to any of your text messages for the rest of the school week and you were absolutely fuming, not even able to control your expression as you walked between classes.

Students were sending you concerned glances as you marched through the campus, a deep frown underneath your tensed eyebrows, a direct opposite to what your normal expression was. He hadn’t shown up to any classes either so you couldn’t yell at him and release your pent up anger even if you wanted to.

“Jesus Y/N.” Riki was calling from somewhere to the side of you and he quickly matched your stride as he joined you, his long legs easily following along to your fast stomps. “You look like you’re about to kill somebody.”

“Trust me, I would be killing somebody if that certain somebody would come out of hiding.” You were spitting out and turning a corner sharply, having finished classes for the day and deciding to head back to your dorm instead of going to the library.

“I know you said no, but why don’t we just go to that party he mentioned then.” Riki was sighing softly and you could feel him looking at you in worry, more serious than he normally was considering how distressed you’d been as you took on two work loads. “He’s bound to be there right? I just wish it wasn’t Heeseung’s party..”

He was trailing off and you paused in your tracks, his arm bumping into yours at your abrupt stop and he turned back to raise an eyebrow at you in confusion.

“You know Lee Heeseung?” You were rushing out, shifting your books to your other arm so you could raise a hand and poke his chest accusingly.

“I know everybody dude.” He gave you a look like he thought you were stupid for missing the obvious and honestly you kind of were, for some reason only now remembering your best friend was the biggest social butterfly in your school.

You knew everybody, but Riki actively engaged with people and was a casual member of multiple friend groups, especially when it came to filling his weekends with various parties and activities.

“He’s trouble though Y/N, and I mean it.” He was shaking his head with a disapproving look on his face and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. You’d never experienced somebody that your friend didn’t like, the expression on his face causing a weird pit in your stomach to form. “That whole group is, I can’t believe Park is friends with people like that.”

The two of you continued to walk after agreeing to discuss it with Jungwon before making any decisions.

You felt extremely thrown off by what Riki had told you, knowing Park Sunghoon definitely had a reputation and an astoundingly stern attitude problem but you couldn’t imagine him hanging out with a crowd as rough as Riki was warning you he did. He seemed to be full more of teasing comments and selfishness than he was actual problematic behavior but the other part of you was confused why you felt the instinct to defend him.

You sighed softly and shifted your books around in your arms, pushing it deep into your mind for now.

——

“I’m telling you, I really have a terrible feeling about this guys.” Jungwon was leaning down to whisper into your ear as you stood in the small line outside the house the party was in, loud music already pouring out and deafening your surroundings despite the fact you were barely on the front lawn.

You glanced over at Riki to see him carrying a similar worried expression, unusually tense as he glanced around at the area you were in.

The energy was vastly different than the last party you’d went to, the same going for the attendees. Most seemed like they were a lot older than you and your friends, carrying a strange look in their eyes and regarding each other with tensed conversations that bordered on arguments.

Your sick feeling from earlier had returned full forced and you tugged on the sleeves of your sweater anxiously, regretting that you had followed Sunghoon’s lead of a casual outfit like he wore last time. Most the women at this party were anything but casual, wearing very little clothing and carrying themselves with a maturity you couldn’t even fake.

“We can be in and out, I promise.” You were tugging them down more to your level to whisper, a heavy guilty settling in at the fact you’d even brought them along. “I’ll find him and tell him to get his stuff together, then we can go home and watch Spider-Man.”

Your friends gave you soft encouraging smiles but their shoulders didn’t lose any tension and neither did yours, only growing more nervous when you were finally passing through the doorway. The three of you moved in unison over to the kitchen area and you turned to them once you reached somewhere that felt somewhat neutral.

It was small enough that nobody was actually hanging out in there, simply giving you strange looks as they passed by to refill their cups.

“You guys stay here and I’ll go and find him.” You were sternly telling them and Jungwon’s face curled up in disapproval.

“Are you kidding me? No way we are letting you walk around out there by yourself.” He was shaking his head and you deflated slightly, knowing the sight of you and your friends approaching to scold him would do nothing but drive Sunghoon further away from you and your overload of assignments.

“If I’m not back in 20 minutes, come and find me.” You were telling them as a form of compromising, raising a hand with your pinky stuck out.

Jungwon was sighing but eventually complying with your ask, raising his and linking your fingers together in a promise. You glanced at Riki and he gave you a small nod of acceptance, still carrying that dark expression that you weren’t used to seeing.

You were readying yourself before pushing back out into the main are, taking a deep breath and adjusting your skirt before heading back out through the door and scanning the general area.

It only took a few seconds before somebody was bumping into you from behind, sending you into somebody else and this continued for a few encounters before you were catching your footing and getting the memo that standing around like a lost deer wasn’t the right move.

You tried to look casual as you moved through the crowd but you knew your attire and demeanor gave you away upon first glance, possibly even passing for a confused highschooler in the eyes of the weathered people you were stuck in the sweaty room with. You were once again second guessing what you knew about Park Sunghoon, doubt running through your mind that he would take your demand as smoothly as he did your previous outburst towards him.

Luckily you were spotting him quicker than you thought you would, just starting to lose hope that you’d find him at all before you caught sight of his familiar bleached hair and leather jacket.

That familiar anger from earlier was building back up and you pulled your face into a determined expression, not letting him and his mysterious social life scare you off. You marched over to him and aggressively poked him in the back, faltering slightly when he whipped around with a heavy glare.

His face fell when he registered it was you and you figured it was just because he’d been expecting a friend or he was preparing for your lecture, not realizing that he had been mid conversation with a few guys who were smoking behind his back on the couch.

“How dare you Park Sunghoon.” You were starting off strong in your rambles, only slightly thrown off that his eyes were widening and his face was showing the biggest display of emotion you’d seen since you’d met him. You couldn’t quite read what he was feeling however so you decided to continue. “Do you have any idea how exhausted I’ve been this week? Not to mention looking for you absolutely everywhere like a crazy person, just for you to never even bother to show up.”

“Also.. your phone, I’ve been..” You were slowly trailing off, both because his lack of response and the fact somebody was now standing off the couch and approaching the two of you from behind Sunghoon. “I’ve been calling and you..”

“You must be the scholar.” The boy was cutting you off with a strange grin, wrapping an arm around Sunghoon’s shoulder and pulling him in a bit tighter to his chest.

You watched Sunghoon wince slightly and give you a sharp warning look, silently trying to communicate that you had made a mistake. You didn’t need for him to tell you that considering you could immediately feel the energy of the room shift at his arrival, the grin slowly sliding off his sharp face the longer you stared.

“You don’t know how to introduce yourself?” He was saying, a played up disappointment in his voice and he kissed his teeth before turning to look at the side of Sunghoon’s face. “Thought you said your girl had manners Hoonie.”

Your face flushed at the mocking question directed towards you and then more so at the phrase he’d used to Sunghoon. You’d obviously been talked about before considering the nickname he had called you and the implication that Sunghoon spoke on your behavior.

“Well I’m Heeseung.” He was smiling at you, a toothy grin that was immediately dropping back into that lazy smirk. It was similar to the one the boy next to him often wore but it felt a lot meaner, his eyes sharp as they stared down at you analytically. “And you’re Y/N… did you dress yourself Y/N?”

Your cheeks felt red and hot as you instinctively glanced down at your outfit, tugging your sleeves over your hands anxiously and parting your mouth to try and say something. You felt embarrassed at the fact he was clearly making fun of you, something you’d experienced before due to your bubbly personality but never so sincere and nasty.

It got even worse when you realized your eyes were starting to water, not meaning to cry but the overwhelming humiliation activating your fight or flight. You glanced at Sunghoon and he was watching you with a heavy look that you didn’t understand.

“Is she mute? You didn’t mention she was mute Hoonie.” Heeseung was squeezing his shoulders again and Sunghoon was finally moving a bit, shoving his arm back so the other boy wasn’t holding onto him anymore. He glared at him but still didn’t say anything, certainly not coming to your defense. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing sweetheart, it’s actually kind of sexy. The whole pathetic virgin look you have going on.”

He laughed softly as he spoke but you knew he wasn’t attempting to make a joke, his eyes scanning up and down your frame with an expression you’d never seen somebody have before. You couldn’t tell if he was actually considering you lustfully or if it was pure disgust in his eyes.

“Leave her be man.” Sunghoon was finally speaking now, a soft sigh accompanying his words and he nudged his friends arm softly.

“Sunghoon said you’ve been on his ass for days.” Heeseung was completely ignoring him and continuing, not even sparing the other boy a glance and keeping his stare firmly locked on your frame. “Hitting him up constantly like some clingy bitch of a girlfriend.”

You shot him a hurt stare but he was avoiding looking at you now, his eyes on his shoes or past your head as his friend continued to berate you. You looked back at the unfamiliar boy and shook your head softly, feeling some of your hair loosen from your pins and a tear finally break loss and stream down your cheek.

You hurriedly wiped it with your sleeve and Sunghoon’s head shot back up at the movement, face crumbling for a second before hardening back up when Heeseung glanced at him to see his reaction to your tears.

Something was bumping into you from behind and you were starting to turn and apologize, planning to use the distraction as a way to disappear from the terrible interaction when you realized who it was pressing against you.

Heeseung was immediately smiling again at the sudden arrival of your friends but Sunghoon tensed more, like he knew their presence would upset his friend even further and escalate the situation. Heeseung didn’t look at all deterred by the fact Riki was a lot taller than him, or the deep glare that Jungwon was sending him from your side where he was grabbing your arm softly.

“It’s been 20 minutes.” Your youngest friends voice was resounding from behind you, his tone lower than normal and you could feel his chest rumble against your back. “We have to go.”

You nodded your head even though you weren’t facing him and your hand instinctively came up to wipe your face off again. Jungwon was stood rod stiff next to you and radiating an anger you’d never experienced from the gentle and mature boy.

You considered saying something to Sunghoon, even as small as letting him know he was off the hook and didn’t need to help you with any assignments. One look at him told you that would be a mistake, understanding now what his harsh expression when he saw you had meant.

Heeseung was still making comments as the three of you turned to leave, whining about how the fun had only just started and other things that you tuned out as you let out a small sob and let your friends guide you through the crowd.

You felt embarrassed to be so upset over a few mean comments but you couldn’t shake the feeling of disgust that washed over you at his words and nasty stare, wiping your tears again and feeling the way one of your friends hands tensed against your arms at the movement. You felt guilty for dragging them out of their dorms for no reason, not even succeeding in getting your partner to cooperate.

“Y/N.” You could hear your voice being called as the three of you pushed out into the lawn but you ignored it when you realized who it was. “Please, just wait a damn second.”

You stopped abruptly because your friends did, Riki immediately turning around and approaching the boy in an agitated manner. You watched him press his chest close to Sunghoon’s in a challenge and you silently pleaded that he would be smart enough to not start a fight where you knew nobody and Sunghoon apparently had social ties.

Sunghoon paid the younger boy no mind, quickly giving him a unbothered glance before looking over his shoulder towards where you were standing and holding onto Jungwon.

“Two minutes.” He was requesting and his eyebrows were pulled forward in a serious expression, waiting for your answer. “Please.”

The rare use of the word from him made you feel hesitant to say no and you sighed before approaching them slowly, softly touching Riki’s arm and whispering for him and Jungwon to go down the street a bit and call for an Uber home.

You watched them as they walked away, both sending you concerned looks over their shoulders as they got further up the street and you tried your best to give them a reassuring smile. When they were far enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear your conversation, you turned back to Sunghoon and sniffled softly although you’d almost stopped crying by now.

“Let’s just get this over with then.” You were hurrying out, shaking your head and avoiding looking at him.

You imagined you looked like a complete mess, contradicting your typical put together demeanor. You’d taken your hair pins out and you could feel it getting messier as you kept running your hands over it, face red and puffy from being upset.

“I know I’m annoying and pushy, and I probably texted you too much but I was just freaking out with how much work we had to do and I didn’t know how to get ahold of you.” You were rambling off and pulling at your sweater uncomfortably, still not looking at him even though you could see he was taking a step forward.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” His voice was saying and your head shot up to glare at him in confusion, not caring that his expression was still pretty soft and not angry.

“Need I remind you that you invited me, asshole.” You spat at him, raising an accusatory finger but you didn’t poke his chest like you normally did.

“I shouldn’t have, it was stupid of me.” He was shaking his head and sighing, looking past you for a second before his eyes were shooting back. He never seemed to have an issue with staring (or glaring) at you but something about your puffy eyes and furrowed eyebrows was making it hard for his gaze to stay locked on your face. “My phone… it just wasn’t on and I didn’t think you’d come since I didn’t answer.”

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, not really understanding why he was explaining himself to you considering he clearly wanted nothing to do with you and he’d never cared about your opinion on anything before.

He was just watching you with that same weird expression he had inside, almost compassionate but still guarded and heavy with something you couldn’t name and frankly, didn’t want to. You’d decided it was best just to leave this situation alone, Heeseung’s mean words still ringing in your mind louder and louder every time you looked at Sunghoon’s face.

“You don’t need to tell me this. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.” You were telling him and you stared at your shoes so you didn’t need to see his reaction to your words.

He didn’t say anything for a few beats and your eyes flitted back up swiftly to see why he had gone silent. His jaw was clenched now and he’d lost the expression that was making your stomach hurt, returning back to being hardened and emotionless.

“Yeah you’re right. We aren’t friends.” He was saying it with finality and your chest ached despite being the one to originally say it, his tone a lot more sincere than yours.

You expected him to just give up on the conversation and walk away but he was just standing there as he watched you, eyes darting around your disheveled hair and the way you were still continuously pulling at your sweater sleeves. You eventually couldn’t stand the tension anymore, along with the fear Heeseung would come looking for his friend sooner or later.

You took a deep breath before giving him a small sad smile, turning on your heel to go and find your friends.

——

“You should’ve just taken the day off Y/N.” Jungwon was whispering to you the next Monday, seated beside you in your shared class and sending you concerned glances every few seconds.

He’d been saying this since the incident at the party, telling you it would be best if you took a sick day before coming back to school. Especially to the classes in which you shared with Park Sunghoon.

You’d been ignoring his warnings, never missing a day before unless it was absolutely unavoidable and you didn’t plan to start because some boy had hurt your feelings a few days ago. You were wearing your usual attire and sitting up straight in your seat, smiling at everybody who entered and refreshing your perfume between lectures.

Besides, it wasn’t like you actually had any plans to run into the reasons for your upset. Heeseung didn’t actually attend your school, you’d quickly found out by pretending to be tutoring him and asking the administration office for his dorm number, and Sunghoon might as well not have considering he never seemed to actually show up anymore.

So you felt a bit thrown off, and regretful that you hadn’t taken your best friends advice, when you were walking into your next class alone and immediately being hit with the familiar sight of his bleached hair.

Not only had he come to class for the first time in nearly two weeks, but he was sat front and center in the seat beside your usual one. You’d faltered completely at the sight of him but before he could notice you in return, you were squaring your shoulders and forcing a bright grin onto your face.

You casually greeted the professor and a few of your peers, complimenting a girls new hair color and giving a small wave to somebody who had wished you good luck on an upcoming project. You weren’t looking at Sunghoon but there was no doubt he’d noticed you by now, the sound of your preppy voice undeniable.

It was nearly impossible to not look over at him once you sat down considering how close he was, his usual manspreading putting his knee far out into the isle so you had to squeeze past it to get to your own seat. You were sure he could feel the back of your legs brushing over his pants and you winced slightly before rushing through the rest of the tight aisle and hurriedly sitting down in your seat.

You cleared your throat and flattened down your hair, fixing your posture and preparing to make it through the duration of the class without needing to interact with the boy.

It was surprisingly easier than you’d expected, although you found yourself unable to focus half the time just from the knowledge that he was so close to you. Still, you didn’t sense the familiar feeling of him staring at the side of your head and he definitely didn’t try to speak to you. You felt bewildered on why he would even show up to class if it wasn’t to confront you or discuss your shared assignments, seemingly just listening to the professor as he rambled on.

Your confusion didn’t stop you from rushing out of the classroom in a hurry the second it was dismissed, breezing past classmates and not giving Sunghoon the opportunity to say anything to you.

——

“How could you possibly forget your phone?” Your youngest friends voice was hitting your ears, albeit muffled considering you were in the familiar position of burying your face into your carpet and letting out low painful groans.

“She was too busy running away from the campus asshole.” Jungwon was explaining, having quickly pieced together what had happened the second you’d crashed through the door in a panic.

Your two friends had already made themselves comfortable in your dorm before you’d gotten there, citing it was more peaceful than their own because you didn’t have a roommate like most students did. You didn’t pay them any mind before sinking to the floor like you’d lost all your bones and telling them what had happened in a series of short carpet spoken phrases.

“So? Just sneak in and grab it before they lock the main doors.” Riki was suggesting it like it was obvious and your head shot up off the floor, giving him a pleading look that he immediately deciphered. “Sorry Y/N, but no way. I’d get in trouble if I got caught, unlike a certain teacher’s favorite.”

“He’s right you know. Nobody would even think twice about you staying at the school late.” Jungwon was adding on from where he was sitting on top of your small bed and you sighed softly, knowing they both had a solid point.

Hence how you found yourself slowly slipping in behind a security guard through the doors to the school, hours after the last students had trickled out for the day and been forced to reside to their dorms or the 24 hour library if they wanted to continue studying. It was slightly eerie to see the area so empty, practicing your scripted explanation in case you were stopped by a less forgiving teacher or the campus security.

You felt a wave of anxiety as you moved through the halls, suddenly realizing the classroom might not be unlocked and if it was that would mean the professor could be right around the corner, waiting to interrogate you about how you’d gotten in.

Attempting to swallow your nerves, you continued towards the room you’d ran out off previously in the day. Park Sunghoon had created another problem in your life and you wished you could find it in yourself to be mad at him, still thrown off by his strange lack of bothering you he’d shown earlier. It was easy to convince yourself that you were just curious about him, nosy by nature and even more so considering how mysterious he tended to be.

You were slipping into the classroom swiftly, not touching the door in case somebody heard its hinges or noticed it had been opened wider. You let out a breath of relief that it had been left open and that the professor was seemingly not there, no sign of his briefcase or paperwork laid out on the desk.

The breath only lasted a few seconds, immediately being ripped out of you when you were suddenly being tugged aggressively backwards and almost losing your balance. You let out a small shriek of panic and surprise but a large hand was quickly placed over your mouth, stopping you from making another sound.

You couldn’t tell who it was that had grabbed you, especially considering they had pulled you into the small supply closet in the back of the classroom and the string light was turned off.

“What are you-“ You had smacked the hand off your face and were just starting to exclaim when a hissed shush was thrown back towards you. You immediately froze when you realized who it was, used to the familiar and aggressive tone.

Park Sunghoon was reaching up to tug on the lights string for a second and turn it on, showing you who he was with a raised eyebrow before switching it off again and shushing you once more. You felt a surge of anger at the fact he had pulled you in here, furthered by the fact that he seemed to think showing you it was him would calm your panic down.

Even more anger resurfaced considering that it actually slightly worked, relieved it wasn’t a complete stranger despite your intense confusion on what exactly he was doing.

“Park?” You tensed up when you heard the professors voice from outside the closet, quickly understanding that they must’ve been having some sort of meeting before you’d walked in and nearly gotten caught.

Sunghoon noticed your stiffening body, considering you were completely pushed up against each other due to how small the closet was. You could feel him looking down at you and you glanced up quickly, barely able to make out his features in the dark but just enough that you could see the warning in his eyes.

You gave him a small nod and his shoulders lowered in relief, knowing you wouldn’t give the two of you up. You weren’t sure if you’d actually get in trouble or not but you didn’t want to risk it, even the idea of the smallest mark on your record making your stomach turn with anxiety.

“That damn kid.” The professor was cursing under his breath and you could hear the disappointment in his voice at the fact Sunghoon had presumably ditched the meeting while he had left the room, glancing back up at the boy to see a strange look on his face.

At first you assumed he had been in trouble and was being scolded but due to the tone of your teachers voice, you imagined now it was something different. Potentially the two of them finally working some things out regarding Sunghoon’s absences and missing assignments.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sunghoon was leaning down to whisper in your ear and a shiver ran through you at how close he had gotten, flushing at your bodies natural reaction and hoping he didn’t notice.

“I.. I forgot something.” You were rocking forward onto your toes to be able to whisper it back to him and you furrowed your brows at the fact you were giving him an answer anyways, not sure why you felt you had to explain yourself to him.

He was standing back to his full height again to stare down at you and you watched him in confusion before feeling something hard pressing into your stomach. Your eyes shot downwards in a panic and you froze up when you realized he was holding your phone in his hand and attempting to pass it to you in the small space. Your eyes shot back up to his face in surprise before you were grabbing it and slipping it into your hoodies front pocket.

Another voice was suddenly appearing from outside the closet and you stiffened up enough to accidentally stumble in shock, nearly falling backwards and knocking into the various mops and brooms if it wasn’t for the hand reaching forward to steady itself around your waist. You froze at the feeling and glanced up to see Sunghoon staring up at the light and avoiding looking at you, eyes closed for a second in a wince.

He didn’t let go of you however, keeping his hand placed there firmly despite the fact you had regained your balance and didn’t plan on moving again anytime soon.

“Hope you don’t have anywhere to be anytime soon.” He was speaking again and you almost panicked at the fact he hadn’t leaned closer to be more discreet when you realized the conversation taking place outside was loud enough to be undetected if you spoke in a low whisper.

“Well luckily for me the pathetic virgin convention was moved to next week so.” You weren’t sure why you had brought it up, directly referencing what Heeseung had called you and the incident at the party, but you immediately regretted it considering the way his face tensed at the words.

You assumed he was upset with you for starting a petty argument when neither one of you could move or even really voice your actual thoughts upon a certain decibel, growing more nervous when he just sighed and didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“I don’t know why he said that.” He was suddenly saying and you froze a bit at the fact he hadn’t gotten upset with you, instead sounding almost guilty.

“It’s not your fault I guess.” You shrugged awkwardly and looked at his chest so you didn’t have to see his face, reaching up to push some of your hair behind your ear that was falling forward. “You didn’t know he’d repeat the stuff you said.”

“I didn’t say anything like that.” He was saying quickly, his tone almost offended that you had assumed he did.

“You didn’t?” Your voice was laced in surprise and you looked back up at him with wide eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze darted around your face at the sight of you staring up towards him through your eyelashes.

“No, of course not.” He was shaking his head and his lip was slightly downturned but you didn’t find it as obvious as he seemed to think it was, never directly being cruel towards you necessarily but also never providing any evidence towards the fact he wouldn’t insult you behind your back. “I like… your sweaters.”

He awkwardly trailed off at the end, pausing between the words like he hadn’t mean to start saying them and he looked back up at the light like he was avoiding the way your eyes widened. You felt your cheeks flush at his attempt to compliment you, his hand against your side tensing like he’d forgotten it was even there and he was instinctively using your soft skin as a stress ball.

“Really? You do?” You were whispering before you even realized it, your curiosity getting the best of you but he tensed again and you understood you probably pushed it too far by asking him to reiterate what he’d said.

The door to the classroom was opening and closing outside the closet and for a second you thought both teachers had left considering the sudden silence but you heard somebody clear their throat and realized the conversation had just ended and you still weren’t able to leave yet.

Sunghoon was suddenly leaning back down towards you and you felt panicked until you remembered you had to go back to speaking into each others ears, much to your dismay.

“Yeah, I do.” He was saying softly and you felt confused for a second before recalling the question you’d asked him, another small shiver running through you at his low tone and confirmation that he was complimenting you. If he didn’t notice before, he definitely did not considering he was still holding onto your side and his hand clenched around you.

The air was suddenly heavy and suffocating, a weird tension settling over both of you at the fact you were pressed so close and he was touching you so intimately like it was a natural thing that happened before, like you hadn’t barely talked outside of petty arguments and your conflict a few days prior.

Nonetheless, you had to communicate somehow and your hands were going up to hold onto his shoulders, both for the sake of pulling him down towards you and being able to prop yourself up with less risk of tilting backwards. Once you were closer to his ear, you were leaning forward and you could feel his heart beating from where you pressed against his chest.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?” You were mumbling hesitantly and he tensed up slightly when your lip accidentally touched his ear, immediately dropping back down to your original height and feeling your face heat up at the contact.

He was looking down at you and you held his stare, a small pout on your face that you didn’t even realize you had. You were thinking back to the party and how silent he had been while you were being insulted, despite not being friends and knowing he didn’t owe you any defense or protection, you still felt weird about the way he had just watched it unfold.

He was sighing and shaking his head, leaning back down towards you and his hand flexed again, pulling you tighter against him as a result of the movement. “It would’ve made it worse if I did.”

You were confused by what he meant but you didn’t want to look up and see his expression again, a lot closer now that he had subconsciously pulled you into him. He was still leaning down towards you and you wondered if he planned to say something else or if he was just sick of constantly bending back down.

Your hands were still around his shoulders, tightening around his neck in a weirdly familiar way to keep yourself from titling considering how close your feet were together in the small

space. You tried to think of a way to respond that would give you some answers without prying too much and accidentally upsetting him again.

“Why do you hang out with him?” You were whispering back into his ear and trying to ignore the fact that you were basically hugging as you spoke to each other.

“He’s family.” He was hesitantly answering after a few beats and you were surprised he had even offered the personal information at all, also understanding why that connection would make the situation more difficult and harder to remove himself from.

You let go of his shoulders but kept your hands on his chest in case you feel forward, not even realizing that his other hand has also come down to hold your side and you had no real reason to be touching him, complete secure in his grasp without the added support. You were able to see his face again now and he watched you with a curious expression, seemingly unfazed by the close contact unlike you and your still red cheeks.

“Did you really say I’d been on your ass? That I was like a clingy girlfriend?” You were a bit embarrassed by the saddened tone to your voice but you were genuinely curious and hurt by the fact Heeseung said he’d been told that, not having any way of knowing about your excessive text if Sunghoon hadn’t told him.

“He saw my phone.” He was sighing and starting to explain but he looked extremely awkward, more so than you’d ever seen him and he was ducking his head closer to yours to remain quiet now that you weren’t whispering in his ear anymore. “I couldn’t let him know we were friends or else he would’ve messed with you… more than he already did.”

You didn’t say anything for a while, just watching him and overwhelmingly aware of how close his face was to yours and how if you were the same height, your noses would’ve been touching. You would’ve thought he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, if it wasn’t for the way his eyes were darting around your face and occasionally pausing on your parted mouth.

“So we were friends?” Was all you managed to squeak out, holding your breath and staring up at him as your lips curled into a small smile.

He was standing blank for a second before a sudden scoff came out of his mouth, an eyebrow cocking at your amusement and you felt slightly relieved at the familiar expression back on his face now. You’d weirdly missed the cocky look in his eye, much preferring it over the hard and vacant one he’d been giving you since you’d fought.

“Maybe we could be if you weren’t always so nervous around me.” He was mumbling back in a teasing tone and your stomach flipped at the slightly flirty hint under his words, never crossing into that territory with him before despite the strange tension always sitting in the back of your mind.

Your breath was hitching at the way he tugged you closer again, his right hand sliding a bit so it was against your lower back instead of at your side and he could keep you flush against him. You watched him with big eyes, confused and slightly anxious at the sudden switch in his demeanor. You felt slightly guilty for immediately wondering if he was just messing with you, preparing to push you away and laugh the second you responded to his passes.

His eyes were suddenly more hesitant looking however, like he was wondering if he had made a mistake due to your lack of response and you realized he was just as nervous as you were, just more skilled at hiding his emotions.

“I don’t make you nervous?” You were whispering to him and he immediately shook his head, staring down at you intensely. Your hand flattened where it was on his chest and you hoped he didn’t see how bad it was shaking. “Not even a little bit?”

You thought, for a moment, that you heard his breath catch in his throat but you quickly discarded that idea. Sunghoon had never shown interest in you before outside of this moment and you figured he was just not thinking clearly due to your proximity and the adrenaline from possibly being caught, still a man in a tight space with a girl regardless if you were meant to be enemies or not.

However, you couldn’t help but think of the fact he’d both managed to compliment you and also seemed to pay a lot more attention to your life and schedule than you’d seen him apply towards other people. He knew who you were before you introduced yourself to him, aware of your closest friends and the fact you didn’t go to parties much.

You thought of the fact he had shown up at the library just off the passing comment Jake had made about seeing you the next day, inviting you to a party with your friends. It had turned out terrible but he’d still invited you, opening the doorway to potentially see each other outside of school and converse in a more neutral setting.

His face was dangerously close to yours as he took in your question, silently urging him to admit that he felt similarly to you when it came to the confusing nerves and anticipation you felt every time he was around. You always felt there was something unsaid between the two of you, pushed aside when you started to bicker or one of you had to leave early.

“Your hearts racing.” He ignored what you had said and you frowned softly, glancing down to where your bodies connected. He somehow seemed even closer once you were looking up again and your eyes widened a bit, wondering if he was intentionally leaning down more or if his body was just instinctively being drawn in.

“I’m scared to get caught.” You quickly answered, lying through your teeth but you knew he knew that. His mouth was curling into a smirk and he squeezed your back again, hips flushed together. “I’m serious.”

“I like when you wear this skirt.” He was retorting randomly and your stomach flipped at the rasp in his voice from whispering, not expecting him to keep changing the topic especially when he changed it to compliment you. You didn’t even realize this was something you apparently wore often, just throwing it on with your hoodie before heading back to the school and not thinking twice about it.

“Do you always pay such close attention to me?” You were asking him back, a hint of confidence at the fact he was continuously proving his interest in what you did. You’d asked him something similar before and you recalled the way he had frozen in the library, not answering you and getting tense at the way you’d called him out.

He didn’t react as extremely now, his face keeping that small smirk as he looked down at you like he had expected you to question his behavior. You were confused by his silence until you realized one of his hands had left your body, only noticing when you felt his fingers playing with the bottom of your skirt. He wasn’t lifting it or moving it at all, just gently guiding his hand alongside the seam and watching you.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, feeling strangely vulnerable and nervous as he started to toe a line that you didn’t expect him to even consider crossing. The light flirting was already strange of him but now you could feel his rough knuckles accidentally connecting with the smooth skin of your bare thigh.

“You want me to stop?” He was pausing to whisper once he noticed your panicked expression, eyebrow raising as he studied your face for any sign of rejection or hesitance.

You thought about it carefully for a few seconds, wondering if you were still upset with him enough to tell him to knock it off and then be left to awkwardly stand here until the professor left and you could sneak out. He’d infuriated you since you’d met but you also never denied finding him attractive, especially when he was barely inches from your face and throwing you casual compliments like it was something he’d done before.

When you were softly shaking your head, signaling you didn’t want him to quit whatever he was planning to do, he still waited a few seconds before he was moving his hand again.

You gasped softly at the fact he’d moved it off the hem of your skirt, instead going underneath it and pushing it up more so it was settled in the middle of your stomach and he could grab your side again without having the fabric in the way. You were suddenly glad it was dark because you knew that it was raised enough that it would leave your bottom half completely exposed, the skirt already barely coming up mid thigh and definitely now revealing your underwear that it was pushed so high up on your body.

He paused at the noise you had made, looking like he was thinking for a few seconds before he was using his other hand to cover your mouth and give you that same warning look that commanded you to keep quiet.

You nodded against his firm grip but another squeak came out of you when he was squeezing your side, his hand so big that it covered your entire hip and one of his fingers was caressing dangerously over the elastic of your underwear. He pulled your lower half closer to his again with a small grunt and you watched his expression through your eyelashes as he touched you so carelessly.

His eyes were meeting yours when his hand dipped under the strap on your hip, waiting for you to give a small nod of permission before he was slowly pulling your panties down your body and shifting again so you could rest on top of his sturdy leg.

You made a small cry at the contact, practically sitting on his thigh now completely bare and you could feel his hand continuously stroking up and down the outside of your leg, almost transfixed by the feeling of how smooth your skin was. Your arms were coming back up to hold onto his shoulders so you didn’t have to completely press yourself onto his pants and you suddenly felt embarrassed by how exposed you were.

He looked slightly frustrated for a second and you realized it was because he only had one hand available, still covering your mouth with the other one. You reached up to grab his wrist and remove it, bringing it down to place it against your waist and flushing at the slightly surprised look he was giving you at the bold action.

“If I get loud; kiss me.” You were whispering into his ear suddenly and you could feel him tense at the idea, not sure if he was interested in the thought of it or against doing something so intimate. Either way, he didn’t object verbally and just used his two hands to slowly lower you back down onto his clothed leg.

“Anyone ever touched you before?” He was asking suddenly, glancing at your face with a hard expression and waiting for you to respond. One of his hands was caressing your thigh now, getting closer to your core every time he rubbed it and another shutter ran through you at his low tone and the implication that he was planning on touching you.

“Not there.” You were whispering back and shaking your head, squeezing his shoulder in anticipation and feeling a bit dizzy from the sudden rush of want you felt towards him.

“Tell me where.” His face was still hard as he watched you and for a second you thought he sounded a little jealous at the fact somebody had touched you before, his hand squeezing your side almost painfully and pulling you higher up on his leg.

“Just… just when kissing. H-he was… like.” Your face was completely flushed as you tried to explain to him what little experience you had, only ever having an eager high school boy carelessly grope your chest during a terrible make out session.

He seemed to assume what you were implying and you felt his hand leave your leg for a moment, sliding up under your hoodie and rubbing up your rib cage softly. You sucked in a tight breath and held eye contact with him as his hand reached your chest, tensing his grip slightly and his rough thumb ran over your nipple swiftly like he was testing your reaction.

You bucked forward a bit at the feeling, grateful you hadn’t worn anything under your hoodie but overwhelmed at the feeling of him softly kneading your chest and the fact he was staring down at you emotionless as you slowly got more and more overwhelmed.

“Did it feel good?” He was asking in a low rasp and you almost nodded, thinking he was referring to what he had just done but you paused when you realized he was talking about the other boy. “When he was touching you like this, did you like it?”

You were quickly shaking your head in denial, cringing at the memory of rough hands that didn’t actually care about you or your pleasure. Despite his tough demeanor and personality, Sunghoon’s touch was gentle although unrelenting in the way he continued to squeeze your soft skin.

“Feel good now?” He was muttering and you nodded softly, falling forward slightly against his chest at the feeling and your breath caught again at the way you accidentally pressed harder onto his leg. You were sure you were making a mess on his pants, dripping ever since he started to squeeze your sides and whisper into your ear and you felt embarrassed at the fact he’d surely see it later once you were out of the dark. “Say it.”

“Feels good.” You were quickly repeating, instinctively following his order when you heard how serious his voice was and you imagined he would’ve teased you for listening to him so obediently if you weren’t having to make as little noise as possible.

Speaking of noise, it was becoming an issue for you pretty quickly, especially as his hands went back under your skirt to help you shift your hips against his leg. Between the feeling of him underneath you and his big hands holding your hips tightly. He seemed to take notice of your struggle and he paused to watch you for a second, looking like he was conflicted.

You were about to ask him what was wrong, worried by the sudden apprehension on his face before he was abruptly leaning his head down to kiss you.

You froze in surprise for a second before quickly kissing him back, suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that you really wanted to kiss him. You’d tried not to think about it before, pushing it deep in your mind but he seemed just as desperate in the way his hands were moving again and cupping your face gently.

You both seemed to forget about the fact you were currently sat on his thigh, lost in the kiss and moving against each other at a fast and intense pace. The tension that was in the air felt like it had burst, completely mesmerized by the feeling of kissing him so deeply and you felt less worried about how intimate it felt considering he was keeping your face tight against his.

He leaned back a bit to catch his breath, staring down at you with a strange look in his eyes and you yelped slightly when he was suddenly moving his leg so it was back on the ground. You weren’t pressed against him anymore and you were confused when he suddenly fixed your skirt to cover you up again, thinking he had changed his mind and was stopping.

To your surprise, he was standing back up after helping you get dressed and he stared at you for a few seconds with a wild expression before he was eagerly pulling you back into a kiss. His hands were cupping under your thighs to pull you up higher and you made a small noise into his mouth with how desperately he was kissing you, almost bordering on romantic if you didn’t know any better.

But you did know better so you were slightly confused and thrown off by the way he was licking into your mouth like it was something he craved, holding you against him like he was scared you’d disappear if he didn’t keep a tight enough grip.

You were thinking of pulling back and asking him when you heard the sound of the classroom door slamming shut, both of you jumping in place and freezing. You’d almost completely forgotten you were even in your current situation, so focused on Sunghoon and his touch.

You were glancing back at him to see his reaction but his face was hard again and his hand was coming up to touch his swollen lips for a second before he was shaking his head, almost to himself, and pushing the door open. You were worried for a second that the teacher might still be there but you quickly realized the room was empty when Sunghoon continued to step further into it, offering you a glance back over his shoulder when you didn’t follow.

Still in a daze in the closet, you watched him in confusion. You didn’t understand the switch in his demeanor, his shoulders tense and his eyebrows furrowed as he glared at you like you were somehow the one being confusing.

Eventually, you stumbled out of the closet and attempted to smooth out your hair that he had completely messed up with his touchy hands and eager movements. He was just watching you and you saw him touch his lips again, your own turning down into a frown at the upset look on his face.

You figured you had been right and he didn’t want to kiss you, only doing it to keep you quiet and now regretting it. This confused you considering how into it he had seemed to be, more passionate and desperate than you ever thought he could get and the heavy look on his face when he pulled back to look at you, but you weren’t sure why else he would be so upset now.

“Sunghoon.” You started to say and he tensed at the sound of his name at your regular volume, not used to you calling him anything other than his last name. He was raising a hand to cut you off and you paused.

“Think of that as my apology.” He was saying in a stern and emotionless tone, not looking at you anymore as he spoke.

You felt your stomach turn in a different way this time, heart aching for some reason at the fact he had completely dismissed what had just happened and was implying he’d only done it as a way to say sorry to you. You stood there and stared at him in disbelief, not bothering to mask your expression or how much he had just hurt your feelings.

“Why would you say that?” You forced out, voice weak and you felt embarrassed at how obviously affected you were. He glanced at you at the sound of your voice but then immediately was clenching his jaw and looking at the floor.

He was shaking his head for a second before turning to leave out the door, leaving you standing there alone and trying to bring yourself back to reality. You felt dizzy from the sudden switch of emotion from him and the crash back down from your shared high, feeling like you were very much in need of a hot shower.

——

“You did what?”

You were sat in Jungwon’s dorm, his roommate having went home for some family emergency and leaving it vacant other than your friend. You’d made your way over there as soon as you left the school, not bothering to call first or go to your own room.

He’d swung open the door at the sound of your heavy banging, face coated with worry when he saw it was you and you quickly blurted out what had happened. It wasn’t Jungwon’s voice that was exclaiming however and you sighed when you looked over his shoulder to see your other best friend sat on his bed, jaw dropped wide as he paused mid pizza bite.

You stared at the two of them for a second before bursting into tears, falling forward into Jungwon’s arms and hearing the soft sigh he let out as he pet your head softly.

He gently led you inside and closed the door behind you in case anybody was feeling nosy, sitting you on the bed beside Riki and pulling his desk chair up so he could be near the two of you. You laid your head on your youngest friends shoulder and sniffled softly with a large frown on your face, embarrassed and confused.

“You hooked up with Park Sunghoon?” Jungwon was saying it slowly, like he was making sure he heard you right and you nodded softly in confirmation. “In a broom closet..?”

“What does hooked up even mean?” Riki was asking from beside you and you groaned at the fact he was there, trusting him completely but you came to Jungwon for actual advice and you knew Riki wouldn’t take it serious enough to offer any. “Like you lost your virginity? Can you even do that in a closet?”

“I’m not giving you the details idiot.” You glared at him after picking your head up from his shoulder, shoving his arm and ignoring the complaining groan he let out. “But we kissed and then he got all weird and just ran out, he said it was just his way of apologizing.”

Both the boys went silent after that and Jungwon gave Riki a loaded stare, looking back at your face and then to the other boy again and cocking an eyebrow. Your frustration grew as you watched them silently communicate something you didn’t understand, throwing your hands up in upset until their attention was back on you.

“In words please.” You exclaimed loudly and Jungwon sighed softly before leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees.

“Is there any chance he could like you?” He was asking and you were thrown off by how serious he sounded, even more so considering what he was suggesting. Your face flushed and you quickly shook your head in denial, not understanding where he would be getting that from.

“If I kissed a girl that I liked, that I was supposed to hate because that’s like my whole thing, I’d probably run out of a closet too.” Riki was adding on from beside you like it was an obvious thing and common knowledge and you gave him a bewildered look. He shrugged softly and patted you on the back. “I’m just saying.”

“That’s ridiculous.” You were mumbling but their words made you have a weird feeling, thinking about how intensely Sunghoon had kissed you. He’d completely abandoned the idea of touching you just so he could focus on kissing you gently, far more intimate and romantic than you’d expected from him.

Still, it didn’t make any sense to you that he would have feelings towards you. He’d never been kind to you and you weren’t young immature kids, you didn’t consider teasing and making your day harder a form of flirting and you were sure Sunghoon thought similarly to you.

You left them alone to head back to your dorm after hanging in Jungwon’s for a few more hours, making them both pinky promise to not bring up Park Sunghoon or anything that had happened revolving him.

You were only halfway through the campus back to your room, the sun having set at some point during your hysterical rantings to your friends and you were relying on the street lights on either side of the sidewalk to guide you home, when your phone was ringing inside of your hoodie pocket. The vibration tingled against your stomach and you flushed for a second as you remembered the situation that had resulted from said phone before you were pulling it out.

The name on the screen made you stop in your slow pace, faltering to a stop before you were completely stood still and holding the device up to your ear.

“Hello?” Their was a sharp question in your voice, not expecting him to reach out at all let alone so soon after what had happened but there was nothing but static on the other side. “Sunghoon? Park? Are you there.. I don’t have time for this.”

“My cousins keeper… ever the busy woman.” The voice on the other side was slowly crackling through and your blood ran cold at the realization it wasn’t Sunghoon, the voice slightly less familiar but still recognizable to you considering your previous interaction had been replaying in your mind.

“Why do you have his phone?” You were spitting suddenly and your stomach turned with worry for some unknown reason.

You didn’t know if Heeseung was the type to actually hurt somebody, especially his own family member but you also didn’t necessarily have a lot of faith in him and his questionable morals.

He was sighing over the speaker and not speaking again for a few heavy breaths, seemingly weirdly reluctant to talk to you despite being the one to dial your number in the first place. At one point you were pulling the phone off your ear to look at it in confusion, almost thinking he had hung up with how silent it had gotten.

“I need somewhere to bring him for the night.” He was causing you to jump when he was suddenly talking again and your eyebrows furrowed despite him not being able to see you.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” You were starting to speed walk back to your dorm now that you’d started to understand the situation, practically jogging through the buildings with your stomach twisting in panic and anxiety at the thought of Sunghoon being in so much trouble he couldn’t pick up the phone and call you himself.

The line was silent for a few seconds before you heard the sound of the call ending, pulling it off your ear again to glance at your screen quickly and letting out a screamed curse at the fact he had hung up.

You still didn’t slow down despite not understanding what was even happening, why you felt the overwhelming urge to return back to your dorm but as you rounded the final corner you understood what the strange feeling in your gut was. You faltered in your step when you saw the body slumped in front of your door, knowing who it was without having to get closer and confirm.

“Oh no, no no.” You repeated a soft mantra of upset as you darted over to Sunghoon, dropping to your knees once you were near him and your hands reached out to grab him before stopping.

You didn’t want to hurt him and he let out a small groan that indicated you would if you touched him, hands hovering over his body and looking around frankly in case his cousin was still lingering around somewhere.

You didn’t see any signs of anybody but you knew Sunghoon couldn’t have been laying there long and they could be just off in the distance, watching you to see what you would do with the boy laying on your welcome mat. Your frown was deep as you finally grabbed on to him, ignoring his mumbled complaints and attempts to swat you away.

It took you a long time to manage to drag him inside, almost contemplating calling your friends for help before realizing what a terrible idea dragging them into this would be.

Eventually, you had him inside on the floor and you hands came up to frantically run through your hair in panic. You weren’t sure what you were meant to do, scanning over his frame to try and determine if he was injured enough to go to the hospital but you couldn’t see the extent of the damage through his layers and you paused as you watched him.

“Park.” You were kneeling back down beside him on your floor and whispering softly, nudging his shoulder with your hand and letting out a sigh of relief when he made a small noise of complaint. “Okay good, at least you’re alive.”

“Are you disappointed?” He was suddenly forcing out and you jumped away from his body in shock, clutching your chest at the unexpected sound of his croaking voice.

His head turned slowly in your direction at the sound of your shocked scream and you took a few seconds to try and catch your breath before you were frowning and leaning forward to shove his arm softly. He let out a loud groan at the feeling of you scolding him but you ignored it and furrowed your eyebrows.

“You idiot, I thought you had a concussion or something.” You spat out at him and you thought you saw his lip curl up for a second in amusement.

“Don’t be so sure I don’t.” He retorted with a wince and you noted his slurred words, leaning in to try and see if you smell alcohol on him. “Trust me, if I was drunk it wouldn’t hurt this bad.”

“What the fuck happened to you Park?” You were mumbling, still leaning over him on your floor and scanning his face to make sure he wasn’t going to lose consciousness mid conversation. You’d definitely have to take him to the hospital if that was the case, still highly considering it judging by how out of it he sounded.

“Family stuff.” He was answering after a prolonged silence and your frown deepened at the confusing implications, reminding yourself to question him more thoroughly later on. “Did I worry you?”

“By showing up at my door like a corpse? Yeah slightly.” You scoffed as you answered him and his lips curled up more, border-lining on the first actual smile you’d seen from him.

“You weren’t home.” He said after a few beats and his voice suddenly went serious again, soft and almost whining at the fact you hadn’t been here when he first arrived. You figured he was only acting this way because he was out of it and not thinking clearly, his hand extending in your direction and twitching a few times being more proof behind that thought.

You stared at it before eventually giving in and taking it in yours gently, feeling the way he immediately squeezed them together in relief and your frown deepened as he looked at you again.

“You always look so sad around me.” He was continuing on and his eyes were going in all directions around your face, having trouble focusing on any specific part. His voice was weirdly saddened and your heart thumped uncomfortably at the fact he was lacking a filter currently. “Not anyone else, with them you’re smiling and laughing. Just around me.”

You didn’t answer him for a while, because you honestly weren’t sure how. You’d become accustomed to that sort of dynamic with him, assuming from the get go that he was no good and out to get you at all times. You hadn’t necessarily considered that your change of behavior with solely him would upset him at all, causing his lips to turn down in a frown.

You’d said before that you never found him particularly mean, just prone to causing unnecessary stress on you and disrupting your typically perfect schedule in a way that caused you to react before you thought.

“I’m not sad around you.” You were eventually saying softly and you found yourself meaning what you said, squeezing his hand and using your free one to push some of his hair out of his face. “You just confuse me.”

He looked like he wanted to say something but his mouth closed after a few seconds and he just gave a small nod, closing his eyes again. For a moment you thought he had fallen asleep before he was suddenly attempting to sit up, catching you by surprise.

You helped him maneuver his way over to your small dorm bed, taking off his shoes once he was laying down and trying not to think about how strange it was to see him in such a familiar space. Not to mention, the relaxed state he was in as he laid back against your pillows and breathed out a sigh of relief once he caught a hint of your scent.

It was hard not to laugh as you watched him, biting your lip to hold it in but occasionally offering him small chuckles when he kept glancing at you with a drunken look on his pretty face. It made your stomach turn to see the bruised adorning said face, his lip cracked and bleeding slightly and you could tell other areas were going to swell after a few more hours.

You wished he was conscious enough for you to ask him what had happened in more detail but you figured he wouldn’t answer you regardless.

His breathing slowly evened out after a few minutes of you trying to get him as comfortable as possible, bringing a cup of water and pain killers to your bedside for him to take as soon as he woke up. You watched him carefully after he finally dozed off and you considered laying on the floor for a moment before you sighed and climbed into bed beside him, figuring it was the least he could allow considering he had shown up on your doorstep so late after running out on you.

“Night Park.” You were mumbling it more to yourself, curling over on your side and trying to avoid touching him as much as possible, letting yourself drift off to sleep.

——

You woke up in a panic at the realization somebody was wrapped around you, completely forgetting your current situation.

You only calmed down when you heard him softly groan in protest, feeling his big hand that was currently thrown over your side, squeeze softly to try and remind you that it was just him in your bed.

Just Park Sunghoon in your bed… half asleep with his arm wrapped around your stomach only a few hours after you’d had an intense make out session in a broom closet. You laid back flat and held your breath as you considered getting out of bed to avoid his touch, stopping when you realized his breathing was quieter now and your abrupt wake up had also taken him out of his deep sleep.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, shifting uncomfortably at the feeling of his fingers flexing against your skin. Your shirt had ridden up in the night and he could feel your warm skin underneath his rough palm.

“It’s okay.” He was whispering back and you felt a bit dizzy at how close his voice was to you, his breath fanning across your neck. You waited for him to remove his hand now that he was more alert, but quickly realized he didn’t plan to when his thumb gently swiped over your hip bone. “I’m sorry too.”

You hadn’t expected to hear the words from him, not sure if he was talking about being dropped off here and interrupting your night or about what had happened in the classroom. You didn’t want to question him, hoping it applied to both and that he genuinely meant it.

He was taking a deep breath when you shifted carefully backwards, letting his chest hit your back and feeling your heart race when his hand was sliding forward to rest gently over your stomach. You were spooning now, far more intimate than you’d foreseen the two of you ever being but you wanted to somehow communicate your forgiveness to him without having to voice it.

“You remember anything?” You asked him carefully, not sure if it was too early to cross that line yet or if he was expecting it.

“Just you.” He whispered back and the words felt heavy, his chest vibrating against your back and your mouth downturned instinctively at the hidden meaning there.

You didn’t think it was completely morning yet, that weird time of the night where the room turned a soft shade of blue and you could hear the birds outside the small room starting to chirp and move around. You and Sunghoon laid in silence for a while but you could tell he hadn’t fallen back to sleep, his thumb still gently caressing your skin as he took deep painful breaths.

“Should we go to the hospital?” You were whispering after a while, voice soft against the silence and you hoped the inclusion of yourself in this scenario didn’t pass by him unnoticed.

“Not yet.” His voice was low and hoarse but it had more emotion than it normally did, sounding almost desperate, like he was asking your permission to stay here in this moment with you. “Let’s just stay here a little longer, just like this.”

His words were heavy again and you weren’t a stranger to the fact that you had a lot of talking to do, healing from the strange back and forth and multiple conversations that would definitely be somewhat uncomfortable. All this was weighing on you for a second after he said it, finding it more in your comfort zone to immediately tackle and issue and find a plausible solution.

You let this habit and anxiety fade away the best you could, understanding that there was time for that later and you didn’t need to pop the bubble you were currently in with him.

Right now, you could be nothing but two people laying together. You could turn off the words of your friends about his hidden feelings for you, set aside his injuries and your longing to understand what exactly had caused them. You didn’t need to be enemies or friends who didn’t communicate to each other properly, you didn’t need to be the person he left behind in the classroom and he didn’t need to wonder why you never looked carefree around him.

For now you could just lay here together and listen to the sound of his breathing, feel it brush against your neck almost in sync with his gentle touch.

For now you could just be.

N

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #sunghoon smut #sunghoon fic #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen au #enhypen smut #riki enhypen #jungwon enhypen #jungwon fanfic #jungwon #riki fanfic #riki #nishimura niki

[chimielie]

cw: reader is a business major. read tags if concerned about canon deviation

kuroo’s schedule this semester is insane.

he’s working part time to cover housing because his roommate dropped out without telling him, he’s taking something like fifty labs all worth half a credit each (only a slight exaggeration), and, worst of all, there’s no time in his day to see you.

he misses you. you’re trying to buck up and not be needy, but he can see it in your eyes, in the way you always fall right into his arms every time you do see each other, like you need to sate your skin-hunger because you don’t know when you’ll see him next. he appreciates your understanding, but… he misses you, too.

he’d set up a fucking chart, made you fill in your weekly schedule, overlapping his, until he found a hole in both.

“it’ll have to be while i do homework,” he’d said, foot tapping anxiously, “is that okay?”

“of course,” you’d given him your easy, sunny smile, and he planted his face in your lap and moved your hand to muss his hair more.

now, he looks over at you fondly, lying on your back spread-eagle in his bed. it’s something you rarely get to do, since he’s usually crammed in it with you. you sleep holding hands, when you stay the night, locked together like sea otters drifting on the waves.

he’s exiled to the desk next to the bed, though, working through reactions of aromatics and sneaking longing glances at your prone form.

“do you wanna—”

“i’m not in chemistry for a reason,” your voice floats up from the bed, though your eyes stay peacefully closed. “do your molecule splitting or whatever yourself.”

“mean,” kuroo says, pushing his chair back and running his hands through his hair. “what if i was gonna say ‘do you wanna cuddle?’”

“mm, you weren’t,” you say. “i said that earlier and you were all, no, babe, i have to finish my lab workbook because the—”

“i know what i said,” he grumbles. “go back to sleep.”

“okay,” you say. “i believe in you. or whatever. good luck.”

“thanks.” he picks up his pencil again for a moment, then tilts his chair back, tipping his head backward, hands braced on the desk. his room is so small he’s almost touching the bed. you tilt your head to the side, eyes opening the slightest bit. “what am i even doing this for?”

“because it’s your passion, honey.” one of your hands rests on your stomach, just beneath the hem of your shirt. that’s where he likes to hold you.

“but you’re gonna be the one making all the money,” he whines. “and all you have to do is make a bunch of supply demand graphs all day.”

“yep,” you say brightly, “but i make those graphs so you can be my stay at home husband someday. so watch your mouth.”

“fine,” he grumbles, righting his chair. “that’s what i’m doing this for. to be your househusband.”

“that’s right,” you say encouragingly. “work hard, tetsurō.”

as he settles back into the flow of his work and your breath eases into the steady rhythm of the sleeping, he looks at you again, now facedown in his pillows, one arm curled around the space where he should be. the melody of a life taking shape rings in his ears; for a second, he can see it. a house with a yard, with a garden, with a kitchen where you kiss his cheek while he cooks dinner and where he spins you after a couple glasses of wine. light suffuses him; he gets back to work.

#then they graduate and kuroo can’t find work in academia for shit so you introduce him to a friend of a friend who offers him an office job #and whoops he’s a ceo with a background in stem. crazy. life comes at you (fictional characters) so fast #shorts! #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #this doesnt count as on the poll im waiting for the poll to finish and also i couldnt let the idea get away #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo x reader fluff #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo x reader

[luveline]

radio cure | steve harrington

an unhappy you meets steve harrington and his merry band of dorks. he shows you that some things are worth sticking around for.

5k words, fem!reader she/her used, tw mentioned/implied suicidal ideation please don’t read if that’s going to have a negative impact on you (no graphic imagery. but reader is passively suicidal and dealing with the other factors of that), robin steve + eddie chaotic trio, friends to lovers, multipart, swearing, friendly teasing, sarcasm, artist!steve, 90s au

.•° ✿ °•.

You're twenty two when you decide to kill yourself.

It's a warm day. The sun shines like a flower bud unfurling, a faint hint of golden yellow masked by cloud cover. You're savouring the brief moment of blessed cool as you walk around Lover's Lake, your ipod in one hand, headphones around your neck.

The flowing pants you're wearing help mitigate the heat around your legs, an itching, slick thing. Warmth feels like oil on your skin. You tip your head back and smell the grass, the lake water, the dry mud under your feet. You're thinking it's as nice a day as you're going to get this week, and you're forlorn, because it doesn't make one drop of difference.

You look up at the blue sky, squinting against the light, and you think it to yourself resolutely. This is going to be my last year. When your savings run out you're giving up.

It doesn't feel conclusive. It doesn't feel scary. It's just a decision.

You walk over dry grass until you reach the short pier on the leftmost side of the lake and sit down. You pull your headphones over your ears and bite your lip when the music isn't loud enough. The dock is rough. You're uncomfortable immediately. You want to go home, but you pull out your little craft sketchbook made of yellow paper and a pencil you've sharpened with a pen knife, staring out across the lake for something to strike you. A duck. A goose. Anything at all.

The thing is, you don't want to draw. You aren't some master, though you try, and you aren't a natural talent… You try sometimes. Nothing seems right. Most people have a style, charm, but you could draw a picture perfect copy of the day in front of you and still feel the lack; you have no idea what it is that makes other people's art beautiful, and that's the problem.

It doesn't matter. You put the sketchbook away. You have nobody to impress but yourself, and besides — you're not the first person in the world to feel uninspired. Thousands of people must feel it everyday, and they aren't throwing any pity parties. You peel off your cardigan, ball it up, and lay down with the fabric behind your head. You can hear the soft pant of a dog across the way, the happy chattering of a Frisbee game. Under the dock, little bodies thwack the planks, tiny green frogs that occasionally hop in the grass nearby.

You press your arm against your stomach and you fall asleep not long after that, your ipod playing music a few feet away.

—

Steve Harrington doesn't know why he stops to look at you. You're just a girl enjoying the summer sun, and he doesn't mean to be a creep. But you've left your stuff laying in small hills around you and your body's lax. You're asleep.

He kneels down next to you. Enough room to swing away if you try to stab him for perving. He isn't perving, he reasons. He wants to check if you're okay.

He tilts his ear toward you and holds his breath.

You're snoring.

Good, he thinks, crawling back to the far side of the dock, at least two feet between you. You're sleeping.

He sits down, knees up, hands between his thighs, and looks out across the lake. The sun shines high as the clouds shift to reveal it in full force, a burning yolk. It kisses every bit of green foliage it can find, dappled sunlight everywhere he looks. Steve is out today to draw whatever beauty he can find, and the light across the water riding the rippled waves of ducklings and brave human swimmers seems nice enough. He peers out of the corner of his eye at you, deems you still sleeping, and takes the pocket sized sketchbook out of his denim jeans.

His pencil is a stub folded between the pages. He lays down graphite in big sweeping lines, more focused on the impressions of shape than the specifics. It's hard to see a coloured world in black and white values. Steve isn't great — he's been drawing for two years now, and that feels like both a lifetime and a flicker. Every day he learns something new about making art, and every day he looks back and feels embarrassed at what he made before. The start of his sketchbooks make him cringe. This one is a mixture of pride and tepid reluctance.

Being bad at something is a stepping stone at getting better. Not every drawing he makes is good, but hopefully it's teaching his brain to be better. He doesn't know what he believes about art but he likes to draw, and he has gotten better.

The point isn't in being good, he'd told Robin. I just need something to do. Before I go crazy doing nothing. 

He draws the lake. He loves the way it comes into being. Ten minutes can turn grey splotches into trees, and bluegrass, and the heat rising off of the water. He draws a duck when it swims really close, though he has to abandon it when it swims away, leaving a half formed lovecraftian creature to haunt the page. He draws the dock, and his shoes, and your shoes, and your hand curled weakly next to your ipod. He draws your wrist, though he stops quickly.

He looks at your sleeping face.

Steve thinks you don't look like anyone he's ever seen before. He notes your lashes, your brows, and your nose. The sun emphasises the fine hairs across your cheek, and the texture beneath them.

He wants to draw your face, but he thinks drawing your hand and your shoes might have been too much without permission. He lets you sleep for a while, and then when he realises the heat is making him dizzy, he can't leave you there to bake.

He rips a sheet of paper out of his sketchbook and shoves the small book back into his pocket. The dock groans as he stands, and he casts a shadow over your face and upper torso.

"Hey," he says.

You flinch awake.

"Don't panic," he says, which is something a pervert might say, so he amends, "don't freak out, I'm just worried you're gonna cook your brains. I didn't want you to get sick."

You sit up. You look kinda cooked already, blinking and disoriented.

"You okay?"

You don't look up. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you for waking me up."

"Yeah, sure. Here."

He holds out the drawing of your hand. He doesn't think it's good, doesn't want you to see it, but he already did it. Giving it to you will ease his guilty conscience.

It's unlike Steve to bail, but he bails. Your fingers are barely brushing the paper when he's wiping his palms on his thighs and stepping away.

"Bye," he says, uncertain. "Try not to fall asleep again!"

—

It's not so weird. Sure, he'd made your fingers skinnier than they really are, and he made your shoelaces look like spaghetti, but they're good drawings.

You're trying to read a book in the corner of Benny's when he finds you a second time. He hovers, and you're not cool, you aren't, you're working with what you've got. Not many people skills.

“Hi,” he says.

"They were good drawings," you say, in lieu of your own hello, thumbing at the pages of your book all full of jumpy nerves.

"Thank you, I'm… new to it. My best friend, she's– she's actually nicer than she should be about them, I can't lie. I was going to say she thinks I should be banned from picking up a pencil, because I wanted to make you laugh, but. She's nice when it matters."

You can't keep looking down, it wouldn't be polite. You dog ear your paperback and let it lie against the tabletop, greasy to touch but you doubt it'll make a difference. The book is old and had cost you 50 cents at Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler's yard sale.

He's tall. Hair falls around his face and curls gently against his cheeks, a sandy brown. He's wearing a hat. He hadn't been wearing one the day he'd given you his drawings, but you can understand why he needs it. The sun is an inescapable force: sun stroke has half the town down for the count. The whole reason that you're in Benny's is because it's air-conditioned and shady.

"Do you want to come and eat with me and my friends?"

You say no automatically. "No, that's okay. I don't wanna," —you don't know what to say, so your voice hikes up awkwardly— "impose."

"You don't have to, but if you want to, you're not imposing." He twists at the waist and nods to a booth across the room, where a boy and girl sit. When they see you seeing them they look away. "Sorry, they're dorks. There's usually more of us, but Jon's in work and Nancy's in Emerson, so…" He seizes up.

You wonder why people are so afraid of being awkward. It terrifies you, to think one day you'll fuck up and be awkward and the other person will remember it and laugh, but looking at him now, you can't see why it matters. It actually makes you feel better, knowing he's worried too.

"I only brought enough for the milkshake," you say.

"I'll get you something."

"That's– no, that's okay."

He hesitates. "You'd be doing me a favour. I love them, really, but I can't stand it when they're together, they bully me."

It would probably be worse to reject his offer and sit here lonely while they laugh and talk. You'll worry they're talking about you.

"Okay," you mumble, picking up your book and your milkshake.

He grins at you and you follow him through the diner. It's not busy today, but there's still feet to fall over and backpack straps to tread on, so you watch the floor.

"My name is Steve, by the way."

You tell him your own name, which brings another quick smile to his face. He slows as he approaches the booth of his friends and beckons for you to slide into the empty side before following you in.

"Guys, this is– Eddie, what the fuck is that? We said no gross shit at the table."

"This, my friend," Eddie says, words rolling around his mouth grandly, "is a monster."

It's a little man made of coffee stirrers, sporks, and chewing gum seams. It's kind of gross, but it's cute. Grossly cute and cutely gross.

"We're about to eat."

"You're stepping on his artistic licence," says the girl, her voice distinctly pretty and a tiny bit hoarse.

"Disgusting," Steve says.

You shift on the leather chair underneath you and anxiety pulses in the bottom of your stomach. They're ignoring you, but not really. Both have lifted their eyes to look at you, and, in sync, they smile. The girl's smile is startling, lip gloss lips and white teeth. Eddie's is softer, less happy and more reassuring.

"I'm Eddie," Eddie says, though you'd figured it out. "That's Robin. Do you think my monster is gross in the gross way or gross in the sick way?"

"He's cute," you admit to thinking. "But the gum…"

"I didn't have any glue."

"Steve told us about his drawings. If he's holding you hostage right now, blink three times, okay?" Robin jokes.

Eddie and Robin lean their shoulders together and start a bit where they count your blinks. There's murmurings about shelters and how they can definitely throat punch Steve hard enough to make him mute. You're stunned at being the object of a joke and don't know how to react, feeling like you've been whacked and now there's cartoon birds flying around your head and they can all see them.

Steve grabs the menus out of the rack and slaps one down in front of everybody. "Alright, team. You know the drill. Last person to choose what they want has to buy drinks." He spares you a glance. "Except you. She's on me because hostages don't pay for themselves."

"I would make such a pretty hostage," Eddie says.

He is pretty, in fairness. Dark curls thick with baby hairs frizzed up in the summer heat frame a pale face. He has big brown eyes.

“And talented,” Robin adds, poking the gum man until he falls flat on his face. The head pops off and Eddie shrieks, not loudly but with a passionate upset about him that makes you laugh.

Steve leans over. “Please choose quickly so I don’t have to pay for Robin's lemonade addiction. No pressure.”

“I’ll just have what you have.”

“With a coke?”

“Sure.”

“Robin?” he asks.

“I want a cheeseburger with a lemonade and then, if you will, another lemonade.”

She dumps her menu in Eddie’s lap, who looks up from his decapitated figure with a look of defeat.

“Wh- hey, she cheated. She hurt my dude.”

“Rules are rules.”

Eddie sulks and accepts everybody’s money. He slinks up to the window like an annoyed cat. After he’s placed the order, he looks back to the table and flips the bird covertly.

“So, how old are you?” Robin asks.

“Twenty two.”

“How’s that?” she asks sympathetically.

“Robin.” Steve chides. “She’s twenty so she thinks she’s a baby.”

“I am a baby. This is my first year not being a teen, which means it’s my first year as an adult. I’m one.”

“We have this argument a lot,” Steve says, though not with any bravado. Simple explanation, his voice soft and warm. “When being an adult actually begins. It’s not the adult part that even matters, it’s the not having rules that fucks people up. Look at Eddie. He’s been out of school for a year and he’s been arrested three times.”

You frown, not because his getting arrested would bother you (depending on the charge), but because you’re surprised, and surprise is quick to appear as anger on your face. His shirt and rockstar rings, his nice smile, his gum man — you’d assumed he was a huge nerd. His arrests are a surprise.

“What for?” you ask, before you can remind yourself that invasive questions are rude.

“Once for indecent exposure– completely accidental. Once for trespassing, and the last time was because he chained himself to a tree outside of Tawny’s bar. They weren’t cutting the tree down,” Steve says. “He, and I quote, wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“Don’t give away my RAP sheet when I’m not here,” Eddie says, placing a tray of drinks on the table carefully. Three cokes and two lemonades.

“It’s not a RAP sheet if you don’t actually get in trouble. They let him off ‘cause they know his uncle. And also ‘cause it’s Hawkins.” Robin slides her slice of lemon between her teeth, shepherding her two lemonades as far away from everybody as she can, looking extremely hedgy. “I’s a bitch sheet.”

Eddie feigns for her second lemon slice and snickers when Robin defends it, elbowing him hard in the ribs.

“I paid for it!” he says through laughs.

Your hands start to shake. You hide them under the lip of the table but it’s no use. Soon your legs are shaking, your arms, all of you. They’re minute tremors, both invisible and impossible to ignore. You glue a smile to your face and try to calm down. You’re overwhelmed and you don’t know why — this isn’t a new feeling. You are not the first person to feel this feeling.

Then why does it feel like it?

Sometimes, everything gets so scary so quickly, and you sit there wondering why it isn’t scary for everybody else, and you wonder why they can’t see it on your face how scared you are, and they must see it? They must know you’re fucked.

You’re shot with thoughts. These people, you could be friends. All you have to do is make a good impression. But how should you go about that? How do you talk? What do you say?

“I draw too,” you say, hands clamped between your knees.

Steve’s eyebrows do this little dance. It’s adorable, and it makes you want to be his friend most of all.

“You do?”

“I do. I’m not good, I mean. I used to be better. I’m out of practice.”

“I draw,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Jonathan, too. God, you should see his shit. And he’s an even better photographer. But I draw shitty zine comics. And Robin does the typesetting for me.”

“Oh, wow,” you say genuinely.

“Nancy writes,” Robin says. “So we’re, like, a jerk circle of artists. She’s good, too.”

“She’s good,” Eddie imitates fondly. “I bet she is. Robin’s gonna be a great writer as well, once she gets all these private Nancy lessons.”

Steve puts a hand up and Eddie promptly shuts up. He takes a big, sheepish slurp of coke and you feel like you’ve said something wrong though you barely said anything at all, sipping at your own coke.

“What are you reading?” Robin asks.

You slide the book toward her so she can see for herself. “The Sea, The Sea,” you tell her. “It’s about, uh,” —you’ve only managed to read the first thirty pages, and that’s after reading the first ten five times straight— “this guy named Charles, he’s unique. He’s uh, annoying.”

“You know, Nancy used to have a book that looked just like that,” Steve says.

You laugh weakly. “It must be popular. I got it at a yard sale.”

“Can I open it?” Robin asks.

“Of course. It’s already pretty beat up, I don’t think there’s anything you could do—“

Robin opens the book with one hand, thumb and pinky fingertip pressed to either side, and tries to take a sip of her drink without looking, tipping her glass of lemonade straight into the pages of The Sea, The Sea. What doesn’t get soaked up by your book rushes down the length of the table and into her lap.

Steve reaches across the table to grab up the glass, but the damage is already done. Your lips part. Eddie gawps, throwing a hand over his slack-jawed face.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she says, looking at you with wide eyes. “I have the worst case of butterfingers ever, I’m sorry.”

It’s as if she can’t believe she did it. You fluster when you realise they’re all waiting for your reaction.

“It’s okay!” you say, as loud as you’ve ever spoken in public.

“You can be mad,” Steve assures you.

“No, it was an accident. I’m not mad, it cost fifty cents, and it was totally garbage anyway. I’m really not mad.”

Eddie stuffs napkins under the table and Robin shivers uncontrollably, dishing ice cubes from her lap and the seat. Steve, laughing now, says, “God dammit, Robs,” sounding like she might be the most golden person on the planet.

—

Steve works his hat over your hair the best that he can. “There. Now you won’t die from heat stroke.”

You bring both hands to the hat to encourage it down onto your head. “Steve,” you say, sounding unsure on how to continue.

“It’s on loan.”

You nod and look out over the lake, where Eddie stands at the edge of the dock. "It's getting way too fucking cold for this," he complains, in swim shorts and a shirt, gazing in distrust at the lake’s shimmering surface.

Lake is kind. It is technically a lake, but also technically a really, very pathetic lake that feeds from a pathetic tributary. If you stationed Steve on one side and you the other, he would strain to hear you talking. Likely infected with brain eating amoeba or tadpoles or leeches. Slimy things. It’s less disgusting than Lover’s Lake, a condom cesspit, so that’s a plus.

You aren’t looking any more eager about jumping in than you had been, thighs naked and kissed by the hem of an oversized, black t-shirt. It’s wrinkled. Steve kind of loves it.

"Just jump in, you big babies," Robin says.

She'd already jumped in, screamed at the cold, and now languishes in the chest height water in front of the small fishing dock with a smug smile on her face. "Not you," she says to you. Steve rolls his eyes.

You shake your head, hair slipping out of the hat. You sigh as you pull it off and readjust the sizing band.

"I guess I am being a baby,” you say to him quietly. “The sun’s been out all day, how cold can it be?” You’re not feeling confident. It seeps into your voice, to which Steve lends a placating smile.

"Really fucking cold."

"Eddie, shut up. Y/N, it's fine. You'll like it."

“I really don’t think she’ll like it.”

Steve doesn’t either, but he wants you to feel included, and less tense. Distract you from whatever it is that’s giving you such a big case of the frownies, and prove he and his friends aren’t just book-ruining hooligans.

Eddie finally jumps in over Robin’s head, disappearing into the not quite blue water with a cut-off curse. He appears again a few seconds later, black hair slicked to his face, neck and shoulders, wiping the water from his eyes as he splutters and giggles boyishly.

“Shit, Stevie,” he says. “Not that cold after all.”

“You don’t have to jump in, you can just ease off the dock, if that’s better,” Steve says.

“Frogspawn,” you murmur.

Steve does a bunch of flexing, throws in a jumping jack for good measure. “Alright,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let’s go.”

You shake your head gently.

Steve doesn’t wanna embarrass you further, or insist when you really don’t want to, so he nods and smiles and takes a running jump into the lake. Robin and Eddie both swear and dart away as his body collides with the surface of the water, and he sinks like a well-practised stone to near enough the lake bed, feet gracing slippery pond weed and things he’d rather not think about. The air shatters out of his lungs and the water, despite the summer sun, is cold. It feels amazing — he hadn’t realised how warm he was until the temperature abruptly shifted.

He rushes back up to the surface and shakes his hair out like a dog, water running down his face and shoulders in fast thick rivulets. He peels his eyes open and turns to find you still hesitating on the dock. Robin splashes at Steve in retaliation for his hair splatters and Eddie laughs evilly as he joins in.

“Come on!” he begs you. “I told you, they bully me! I need back up!”

You toss his hat on the dock. The jump you take into the lake is timid but enough to miss the frogspawn and not break your legs, a cold splash of water and you’re there. Luckily, your presence has Robin and Eddie both stopping in their cruel tracks, and you don’t have to save Steve after all.

Your happy laughter is stunning.

"It's so cold!" you squeal, water in your eyelashes.

Eddie takes one of your hands and together the four of your tread into deeper water.

"Now that all who can be present are present," he says, falling into his dungeon master drawl, "it's time we commence the The Tournament. Swimmers, take your stations."

Everyone falls into line. You don't know what you're falling into line for, raising your timid voice to ask, "What's the game?"

"The game is me and you dunk the ever-loving out of dumb and dumber," he says.

"Hey, what?" Robin asks. "How come you get her? She's a total wild card, she might win the game all by herself."

"Or she might really suck. We don't know, and so in the interest of fairness, I propose she swims with me." Eddie's wet sleeve sticks to your skin as he nudges you. "But you don't suck, do you?"

"Um…"

"Attagirl. On your marks, get set, go!"

You spend an hour like that. Steve and Co, they're stupid, but they aren't stupid stupid. The Tournament is a series of chasing and dunking (stupid but fun) wherein you get to throw yourself on the shoulders of the person you're chasing and submerge them (stupid again). You can't hold them down, though, they aren't trying to drown one another. Much.

The sun regretfully starts to set. If it's anything like the last few days, that means it's likely near 10PM, and they're all working tomorrow.

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Steve asks in concern, after he's heaved himself up onto one of the huge stones on the opposite side of the lake.

Cattails obscure you from view on your own stone. Across the lake, your possessions lay thankfully unscathed on the dock. Robin sits as close as she can to Steve on his rock, kicking water at Eddie every time he tries to approach.

"You fucking rat," he fumes, mouth full of lake water.

"I'm not really working right now,” you say.

"Do you need a job?" Eddie asks. "They're hiring— Harrington, restrain your creature! They're hiring at the Palace Arcade, aren't they?"

Steve nods voraciously. "Yeah! Hey, we can get you an interview no problem, they probably won't even ask you that many questions. I mean, Keith worked there."

"Don't be mean about Keith," Robin says, though she doesn't really like him. He thinks it's akin to defending your deadbeat older brother.

"I don't know, I think even a couple of questions might be too many," you worry.

"How come?"

You pull the fluff off of a cat tail, and it explodes in your hands. Steve yanks one down to do the same, watching the fibres float across the lake's disturbed surface with a cool breeze. Robin shivers beside him, sensitive to the cold in her wet clothes, the adrenaline of swimming and almost but not really dying wearing off.

"I'm bad at stuff like that."

"I don't think anyone's good at interviews at our age," Eddie says, nose wrinkled as cat tail floats toward him. "We're, like, babies."

"I always feel like I'm really old," you confess. You look down at your naked knees. "Like I wasted all the good years already."

"What, school?"

"And the four years since," you say.

Steve gets it, in a way. His high school years sucked, and he'd maybe thought he'd get out of Hawkins on a track or swim scholarship, basketball — anything. But he's here still, and at first that hadn't been what he wanted. Sure, he'd expected it, but in different ways.

Steve pushes back the cattails to see you clearly. "I didn't even get any real good years until just now," he says, as kindly as he can.

"I failed senior year twice," Eddie speaks up, "I kinda thought I was wasting my life too, but if I didn't, I wouldn't even know Robin, and she's, like, my best friend."

He throws his hands over his face before Steve can kick a huge wave of lake water into his eyes. "Get your own," Steve fumes. He's not really mad.

"Yeah, these are the good years," Robin says, "probably. I never had guys fighting over me in high school." She laughs and tucks her wet hair behind her ears, her freckled cheeks pale in the oranging light of the sunset.

You hold your hands out for Eddie and he finally climbs onto one of the rocks. From this side of the lake, you can watch the sun set behind the silhouettes of Hawkins town a half mile away. It dips slowly down, meandering almost, a pearl sinking through layers of raspberry pink and orange and, as Steve holds his breath, that sudden flash of electric green.

"I'm blind," Eddie mumbles, falling back into the rocks and grass.

"Shit, that was cool." Robin stands up and stretches. "I'm so cold I'm gonna die right here. Steve, do you still have a blanket in your car?"

Steve looks over at you again. You look shell-shocked, not quite awed. He doesn't know what emotion you're feeling, only that you're feeling it, eyes wide and set across the lake at the darkened sky, lights from the buildings like stars shimmering in your pupils.

He stands up and offers his hand to you. When you take it, he pulls you up without hesitation, not a flicker of doubt or an ounce of struggle.

"I'll get you that interview," he says, questioning, soft. If you want it. 

Your fingers linger in his palm.

"Yeah, okay. Thank you."

"Come on!" Robin says, taking your other hand and tugging without apology, barefoot over the asphalt path surrounding the lake. "Before the gnats come out."

"We might see fireflies if we stick around," Eddie says.

They bicker. Steve lets go of your hand and you and Robin walk just ahead, your head bobbing between his two arguing friends like you're watching a quickfire tennis match.

You turn to the side and hide a smile. Steve sees it, and he figures it's a start.

"Munson," he hollers, "how about you stay and watch the fireflies and you tell us all about it? Me and the girls aren't gonna freeze out here so you can get back in touch with nature."

It's a bad joke, but it works. "Fuck you, Harrington. The ladies wanna see the lightning bugs, don't you?"

"I can't remember the last time I saw them," you say.

"Then we have to stay," Eddie says smugly.

You all crowd the back of Steve's car, the heaters on but not doing a lot, the blanket stretched over Robin's shoulders. She tucks it behind your back, and you all look out to the night and scout for bugs.

"There," you whisper, pointing.

Green dots of light rise from the dry grass like tiny lanterns, a handful at a time.

"Jonathan's gonna be sad he missed this," Robin murmurs.

You try to count them all. Four voices whispering bets into the night air, though the real number isn't possible to calculate. "Winner gets a new paperback on Robin," Eddie jokes, swiftly quietened by a barrage of elbows to his side.

They let you win.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things

[ohbabydollie]

Mmmm, perverted unpaid intern!schlatt..... yummy plz....

pls he was so yummy in unpaid intern, im going feral

let’s say you were ludwig’s assistant, dressed in a little pencil skirt and tight button up.

schlatt watched when you would walk over with a slight bounce in your step, little notebook in hand and smiling softly. when you look over to schlatt and offer him a shy wave and smile. he can’t help but start imagining you in different ways.

he starts wondering if you’ll offer him the same cute smile if he asks you to go through his desk drawers for that damn flashlight he has.

if your tits always jiggle like that when you happily get ludwig his redbull and let him know the meetings he has to attend.

these thoughts go through his head all day and everytime he sees you. they go on until the end of the day, that’s when he realizes he has you alone, all to himself with no supervision or anyone to interfere.

the thought alone has him starting to feel dazed as he calls you over and you come bouncing innocently over, tits and ass jiggling with the same smile you had before.

“yes Mr. Schlatt?” you ask politely

“no, no, Mr. Schlatt is my father, please call me Jay” he says with a charming smile “Speakin’ of my father, y’know he owns part of the company?” schlatt asks you

“oh really? that’s very nice, um, Jay” you say softly

“yeah, it is isn’t it?” he says almost innocently “it’s real nice, especially when i feel like an employee isn’t doing their job just right, i can get them fired” he chuckles making you laugh nervously in return

“so, i’ve noticed that you work really well, really really well” Schlatt’s right hand goes up to the top of your head and runs, stopping at the bottom of your head “you take orders, do your job, make sure Ludwig is doing his job, you’re great..”

“t-thank y-” “i wasn’t finished” he states twirling the ends of your hair between his middle and forefinger

“you’re so pretty..It would be a shame if someone told my father you weren’t doing your job adequately. If someone believed for a minute that you do good, but were wasting company resources on something a computer could do”

“w-what?” you ask almost stumbling back in shock “you wouldn’t!”

“oh but i could” his eyes linger on the end of your skirt before returning to your eyes “it wouldn’t be hard, a little text can have your career over by” he looks at his watch “4:15…unless..”

“unless what?” you ask worriedly, not wanting to lose your job

“unless you can prove yourself useful to me” he advised with a grin “it’s 3:45 right now, i suggest you bend over right now if you wanna continue being employed that badly”

That’s how you find yourself in this position, bent over his desk, a few buttons ripped off your shirt causing your tits to spill out and rub against his desk. Most of the items that would be on top of his desk are all over the ground in front of you and your brand new tights are now no longer wearable. Your skirt too, it’s being ruined by your wetness running down your thighs as Schlatt sets a brutal pace making you come undone.

his hands are digging into your hips, you try to bite into the arm of your shirt to hold back moans but schlatt removes one hand off your hip and pulls your head back by the hair.

“don’t try to hide those precious sounds from me princess” he growls as you let out a moan

“yessir!” you moan out while schlatt tugs in your hair, pulling you closer and causing you to arch your back against him “f-fuck!”

“shit princess, you’re squeezin’ me like crazy” he says going harder causing you to get louder

“gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum!!” you cry as he purposely goes deeper with a grin.

“yeah? you’re gonna cum all ‘round my cock like the slut ya are? yeah?” he groans into your ear while hitting your g-spot causing you to see stars.

“yes! yes! gonna cum all around your cock! fuck! please” you beg “make me cum please, please!”

Schlatt smiles bringing a hand up to your neck, squeezing softly as your mind goes blank with pure pleasure. Schlatt releases his load inside you with a soft groan and pulls out softy, sitting down and letting you sit on his leg until you’re able to collect yourself.

He pressed a kiss to your temple “did, so good for me” he says softly, letting out a soft yawn “now go get me some coffee” he says as you nod, getting up with wobbly legs and walking to the break room as cum starts to drip down your thighs.

maybe you do get to keep your job, at least for now.

hope i did good nonnie >_<

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt x reader smut #jschlatt smut #schlatt x reader smut #schlatt smut

[m00nlight-ramblings]

In A Natural Way

As a former artist, you can't help but create when you see beauty. When Halsin finds you sketching by the lake, he is in wholehearted agreement on the beauty.

Pairings: Halsin x GN Tav

Warnings: fluff. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.89k

Requested: yes

A/N: I love Halsin, I was so happy to write this! Also I haven't gotten to Elfsong Tavern yet so if something is innacurate...in this story it isn't!!! (teehee) I do not give permission for my work to be copied or shared on other sites without my consent.

Karlach was already pulling Wyll along towards the bar of the Elfsong, making good on his promised to share a stout once they arrived. She was chattering his ear off as he happily sat next to her, Gale joining by his other side. Shadowheart and Lae'zel were nowhere to be found (probably arguing - or secretly making out - outside), Astarion was already in his room upstairs, and Halsin was taking his time walking around the tavern, admiring the wall art.

"I am going to stroll around the city," You announced, shouldering your bag and waving to the group, "I'll be back before suppertime."

"Don't go out too far," Halsin said, smiling, "We wouldn't want to start without." He winked, and held the door open for you. You blushed as you stepped outside, the little somersaults in your stomach fluttering due to Halsin.

So you had a small crush on Halsin.

Okay...maybe it was more than a "small crush".

You cheekily smiled at him and kept on ahead, trying to push your thoughts of Halsin (and his incredible pecs) out of your mind. You had one goal - to find the small pond the party passed to get to the Elfsong Tavern. As soon as you had seen it, you were immediately inspired, and wanted to grab for your sketchbook immediately.

As we had headed for the Elfsong Tavern earlier in the day, you had all decided to take a reprieve for an evening and not only rest there, but also drink and dine and relax. Like children on a trip, you were given the rest of the day to do what you saw fit - drinking, shopping in town, napping...the world was your oyster.

You would partake in the debauchery later in the evening, but for now, you wanted to take a rest in nature...something you weren't necessarily able to do while going along this little adventure you had found yourselves in.

After a bit of time walking, you finally walked upon the pound - surrounding by trees, water glistening, and birds chirping above head. Just a tiny bit on the outskirts of town, a tiny oasis in this urban setting. You smiled at the mere sight of it and quickly made your way to the largest tree set a little off from the water. Making yourself comfortable, you slid your sketchbook and pencils out of your bag. You sighed.

Contently. Happily.

Before you were captured and a tadpole was shoved into your eye, you were an artist in your hometown, over the moon that you were able to create a life based upon your passion for art. You were able to sketch every now and then since the Nautiloid, but never really able to sit down and focus on it.

Now you had your chance, and you were reveling in it.

Once the pencil hit the paper, you couldn't stop, only pausing to look at your study; the pond itself. The way the sun reflected off the serene waters gave you goosebumps...the fact that you were able to capture it gave you even more.

Soon, you were able to lose yourself in the action of sketching, your mind drifting to other things.

Other things always equated to Halsin, no matter how hard you tried to think of anything else. Ever since he had joined your party, the gentle giant had stolen your heart through not only his romantic words, but also his kindness towards others (and especially nature). Every so often you had the feeling that he reciprocated your feelings, but you didn't dare test the waters - not only did you not have time (thanks, looming transformation into an Ilitihid), but the potential embarrassment from rejection was terrifying on it's own.

After about an hour or so of sketching and absolutely thinking of Halsin naked over and over again, you yawned and looked up - the sun was setting, casting golden rays across the pond. Your sketch was getting more detailed by the minute, but you felt elated to stretch your artistic muscles that had been forgotten in the previous weeks. Resting your head against the tree behind you, you folded your hands in your lap and sighed happily. You closed your eyes and decided to take a break.

Besides, you were sure you had plenty of time before dinner back at Elfsong.

You felt a gentle finger run along the back of your hand. A smooth voice lightly murmured in your ear and you felt your head eyelids slowly open.

"We were worried about you...you said you would be back in time for dinner." Halsin gently said, taking your hand in his, "I'm glad I found you."

Eventually, you came to, realizing that Halsin was gently cradling you awake. You jumped, the fact that it was Halsin of all people waking you quicker than any gentle murmurings could.

"Gods! Halsin - hi!" You said, blinking rapidly. You noticed the sky around you was pitch black - hells, how long were you sleeping for?

"Yes, it is me," He chuckled, letting go of your hand, "I'm glad you were just asleep, and not worse...lost or..." He shook his head slightly, "Well, I won't even think of it."

Suddenly, you remembered the sketch book on your lap. At the same time, Halsin took notice of it, looking down inquisitively. A small smile appeared on his face and he cocked his head to the side in order to investigate your sketch further.

"This is beautiful," He spoke, his voice soft. Taking the leatherbound book from your lap gently, he held it in his hands, lightly fingering the pages. "I can see why you wanted to come back here on your own...you surely have a talent. I'm glad you were able to exercise it."

"Oh..." You blushed deeply, your heart beating rapidly. Quickly - but politely - you took the book back from him, closing it immediately and trying to put in your bag, "Thank you. That's very kind. I used to be an artists before...well, all of this..." You gestured out in front of you.

Halsin, noticing your embarrassment started to shake his head, "Do not be embarrassed by your gift. Being able to capture nature so beautifully...this is the closest I've seen to the real thing," He stared into your eyes, taking the book back and opening to the page you were just working on, "It's absolutely breathtaking."

"Halsin, your flattery..." You had to look away, the intensity in his eyes was almost too much. You could tell your blushing was still strong, and you painfully willed for your brain to shut off the heat on your cheeks, "It's too much! You're too kind...thank you."

Halsin continued to marvel at your work, bringing the book close up to his eyes so he could see better. As you let him look for a bit, you started to gather courage.

"I was...actually, um," You cleared your throat nervously, "I actually was thinking of you while I sketched it."

Halsin stopped looking at the sketch immediately, dropping the book gently in his lap and looking to you. "Me?" He repeated, a look of surprise on his face.

You nodded cautiously - gods, why did you tell him? - and realized you couldn't really back out of it.

Here it goes, I guess, You thought, quite glumly to yourself. You already started to prep yourself for the rejection.

"Yes, you. I thought this pond just looked so beautiful, and I obviously know how important nature is to you, so, I guess...I was thinking of you a lot...while I was sketching it, of course..."

Halsin nodded slowly and smirked, "Of course."

"Um..." You started to nervously play your hands, looking into your lap, "Actually, I wanted to create something for you, to help you feel...back at one with nature, when maybe...we are somewhere you aren't able to connect. And you miss it...or something. On the road, I mean."

"Well," He sighed, smiling fully now, "That means a lot, that you would do something like that, for me. I am grateful for your kindness...thank you."

You nodded, matching his smile, "Of course. Once it's fully complete I'll give it to you...I wanted to finish the shading on some parts..." You trailed off, taking a deep breath. When you looked back into his eyes, you saw kindness, and a gentle glow. You sighed, biting your lip.

Oh, fuck it.

"Halsin, I have to say...I've come to care for you deeply," You finally admit, "I don't know how much time we have left with everything, so I wanted to tell you that my feelings for you grown exponentially since we first met."

"And these feelings...have turned you into a poet, with your newly eloquent speech?" Halsin asked, a playful gleam in his eyes. A moment passed before you giggled, and it felt like the steam was releasing in your heart.

"You make me nervous!" You defended.

Halsin chuckled and gently, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, "Why would I make you nervous?" He asked, leaning closer to you. His breath tickled your cheek, and you felt his warmth on your lips.

"Not you...necessarily," You spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "But the idea of...your rejection. Rejection from you. After I've...told you my feelings."

His eyes searched yours, and he nodded solemnly. "Yes. That would be quite nerve-wracking indeed...if you were to tell me your secret feelings towards me, and I rejected you..." He took the back of his knuckles and gracefully skimmed your cheek with them, "But it's a good thing, then, that a rejection was not in the plan."

You heart lurched as you smiled, feeling brave and taking the hand that had just cupped your cheek, "Oh, it's not in the plan? Well...good thing, then. I guess I have nothing to worry about, then."

Slowly, he leaned in even closer, your lips touching gently now. He teased you, getting so close, but not finishing the action to completion. "Good thing, then." He said finally.

Gently, he pressed his lips against yours, his arms instinctively finding your shoulders and pulling you close. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you pressed your hands against his chest, asking permission for his mouth to open with your tongue. He obliged and willingly deepened the kiss, sending fireworks off in your brain.

As you continued your kiss, you felt Halsin becoming more frantic, a moan escaping his mouth. You pulled away, looking at him.

"I...want to continue this. We should probably get back to the Elfsong, yes? To be somewhere more...comfortable? With a bed?" You suggested, your voice husky. You couldn't try to cover your lust for him even if you tried.

Halsin smiled and took hold of your hand, his eyes dark. "Who says we need a bed to be more comfortable?"

You chuckled, and should have known - a Druid would never choose a bed over nature. Leaning back into him, you ran your fingers through his hair, adjusting yourself so you were sitting on his lap.

"Well then...why don't you show me how comfortable nature can really be?"

Halsin smiled and gently moved the book to the side, as if it was the most precious thing. Then, he playfully pounced on you, causing you to emit a laugh so loud, it echoed throughout the pond.

------

What did y'all think? My first Halsin fic...I love this huge druid giant. Reminder that my inbox is open for requests!

#halsin fanfic #halsin headcanons #bg3 halsin #halsin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin x tav #halsin romance #halsin x reader

[discordantwritings]

Distractions (Benn Beckman x Reader)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, minor talks of cuts and blood, Benn has a hair pulling kink you can’t convince me otherwise, PiV sex

WC: 3.5k

Summary: As the doctor for the Red Haired Pirates you know there’s only so much you can do to curb their bad habits. But maybe you can help your favorite patient, Benn Beckman, kick his smoking habit with a bit of distraction.

Notes: for the lovely @fanaticsnail who is correct, Benn needs more love

“You already know what I’m going to say.” You tap your pencil on your clipboard, looking up at the grey haired man on your examination table.

“Doc, don’t start this again.” Benn’s tone is only slightly annoyed as he looks back at you.

“All that smoking is going to kill you.”

As a doctor on a pirate ship your life was all uphill battles that you were not going to win. Telling pirates to be less risky, drink less, and as is the case with this particular first mate to smoke less- all of these were battles you know you were not going to win. But it sure doesn’t stop you from trying, determined to be the annoying thorn in their side to at least make them stop and think before doing something stupid.

“Being a pirate is going to kill me, not the smoking.” Despite his tone a smirk sits on his face, he’s familiar with this song and dance you two engage in at the end of every regular check-up.

“I’m just trying to make sure you die of plain old age, alright? You know I expect the most from you Beckman, you’re the only responsible one around here.” You swivel around in your chair, placing your clipboard on your desk before standing.

“I think you’re wrong there.” Benn stands up as well reaching into his pocket to pull out his carton of cigarettes.

“Don’t you dare- not in my office!” You playfully hit him on the arm and he laughs.

“See- you’re the responsible one.” He twirls the carton in his hand, movements you’ve seen him use to spin his guns.

You roll your eyes but you can’t muster up any actual annoyance. “Maybe I am. But you’re a close second.”

Benn moves towards the door out of your office but hovers before he opens it. After a few seconds he turns back to you.

“But if I wanted to cut down- not quit mind you- just curb it. What would you suggest I do?” It takes all your professionalism not to grin from ear to ear that you had finally broken him down.

“Well, since we don’t have any nicotine substitutes one of your best bets is developing new habits.”

“You’ll have to explain a little more for me Doc.”

“Well, smoking is a whole ritual, right? You have to cut out the ritual around it and the best way to do that is to from some new rituals and habits. It’ll be good to think about some good distractions for when you feel cravings.” You explain, happy to see that he is actually listening to you.

“That does all make sense.” He shoves the carton of cigarettes back into his pocket. “I’ll try out your advice, but no promises, okay?”

“Just you trying means a lot to me.” You say honestly.

“Alright, alright. See you later Doc.” He waves and leaves you to take your next patient.

It’s only two days before Benn is back in your office, hovering in your doorway right after sunset. When you really look at him you sigh. A rag is wrapped around his hand and red is seeping through the white fabric near his palm. He gives you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for coming in right as you should be getting off for the day but-“ You are already right in front of him, delicately unwrapping the rag to assess the damage.

“Beckman what happened?” You tilt his hand to look at the deep gasp across his palm.

“Well, really it’s your fault.” He says as you guide him to sit before grabbing your supplies.

“My fault? Really?” Laying out your salves and antiseptics you shoot him a curiously look.

“I was trying to distract myself by sharpening up my daggers and, well…” He trails off but you can put two and two together.

“You’re not normally on the list of people I have to tell not to use weapons while they are of not sound mind.” Carefully you clean the wound, impressed with the way he doesn’t flinch as you do so.

“I didn’t think I was that out of it.”

“It’s your first day of cutting back.” You sigh as you get a clear view of the wound. “You’re really lucky this wasn’t any deeper. You still need stitches though.”

“Whatever you say Doc.”

Despite today’s events he was your best patient, never saying no when you tell him something needs attention. You thread up your needle and begin your work.

“Well, I guess pain is a distraction.” He jokes and if you were to look up you’d bet good money he was smirking.

“Don’t make this a habit Beckman. I can refuse to help you.”

“You would never. You’re too nice for your own good doll.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to try and tamper your reaction to the pet name. It’s not often he uses them for you, almost always referring to you as “doc” or “doctor” but when he does it always makes your heart lurch into your throat.

It’s stupid, you know, having a crush on a pirate. Having a crush on someone you work with. But when he’s so kind and thoughtful and helpful and so damn handsome… well who could blame you?

“You really should let me teach you how to shoot one of these days.” He says after a few more moments of silence.

“You know my answer.”

“You really should know how to protect yourself.” There’s serious concern laced in his voice.

“I’m a doctor, I took an oath to do no harm.” You explain to him, like you have many times before.

“And you’re the only doctor working on a pirate ship who takes that oath seriously.”

You pull the last stitch tight before looking up at him. “I know but, the thing is I’ve never felt the need to protect myself on this ship. Sure I’ve felt in danger due to the sea but from other pirates?” You shrug. “I’ve never had any doubts you’d be there to protect me.”

There’s a few beats before you’ve realized what you’ve said.

“And Shanks and all the other crew.” You quickly add, darting your gaze away as you grab a bandage. He chuckles and you hope to whatever gods are out there you aren’t completely flushed.

“Well, can’t say I don’t like that answer.” He keeps his hand open as you wrap the bandage securely around his hand, wrapping it around a few more times for security.

“Now do your best to not break your stitches, alright?” You finally look up at him, matching his gaze.

“I’ll do my best.” He promises and you believe him. “But I’ll probably need a different distraction.”

“Yes you will.” You laugh. “Look I know it might be boring but I do need help sorting through the supplies I picked up last week when we were docked.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” His serious tone has you concerned for a second but you see that sly grin. “You’re just using me to do your dirty work.”

You gasp, mock offended. “You really think that low of me?”

“I would never think low of you. In fact, making me do your grunt work is very smart.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“No, seriously you do so much to help us all it’s only fair I help you.” His uninjured hand covers yours it’s in that moment you realize you never let go of his hand after bandaging it up. You freeze and feel your skin heating up somehow more than it already was.

“That’s- I mean- it’s my job you don’t owe me anything.” You don’t meet his gaze directly but don’t move your hand away either.

“It’s your job to help us if we get sick or injured in battle. It’s not your job to help us every time we get drunk and accidentally shoot or stab each other.”

“Very good point.”

He pats your hand before pulling both of his away and standing up. “Again, you’re too good. But I’ll be around tomorrow, alright doll?”

There was that damn pet name again and you fought the urge to melt into the floor. “Thank you Beckman.”

“Thank you Doc.”

It’s embarrassing how you count down the hours until he’s at your door again, knocking on the open door with his good hand. You’re already in the thick of organization, crates of bandages, medicines, and other supplies strewn about your office.

“Oh! Hi Beckman! C’mon in.” You stand up and begin gesturing around. “It’s a bit cluttered but trust me there’s a method to the madness.”

You go through and explain what needs to be done and Benn listens carefully, asking questions when he has them. The second you’re done he gets to work, following your orders perfectly. Well, that’s one of the many reasons why he’s an amazing first mate you suppose.

The two of you work together and have casual conversation for a few hours and the time flies by in his company. Before you know it you’re almost done and working side by side with Benn on the last few things.

“Did you redo your bandage today?” You ask as you get a good look at his hand.

“And miss the chance to have your capable hands do it?” He smiles as he hands you the final box of gauze you need to put away.

“Or I think you just forgot.”

“Maybe.” He admits and you get up to get fresh bandages.

“You’re lucky you already helped me with all this work or I might’ve handed you the bandages and sent you on your way.” You hop up on the exam table you had been using to sort supplies and take his hand, carefully unwrapping yesterday’s bandage.

“Didn’t we go over this yesterday sweetheart?” His smooth tone has your heart hammering in your chest.

Sweetheart. That was a new one.

“Yeah, yeah.” You try to play it off but you know you’re flushed. You busy yourself with replacing the bandage. “Anyways, how are you feeling? Did this help?”

“Hm? Oh the distraction thing.” He thinks it over a second, watching you bandage his wound. “Mostly.”

“Mostly? Still feeling the cravings?” You finish your work but selfishly still hold his hand in yours.

“Yeah. I mean working with you did the trick, don’t get me wrong but now that I think about leaving and going back out on deck…” He shrugs. “But I guess that’s just how it’ll go for a while.”

“It will. But I’m not kicking you out, you can stay here as long as you like.” You secretly hope he sticks around, his presence made your work faster and your heart lighter.

“You’re offering to keep distracting me?” There’s a tilt to his voice that makes your heart hammer in your chest.

“Ah- I mean-“ You kick yourself internally for being so easy to fluster. “If that helps.”

Benn chuckles. “Now you’re not thinking anything dirty are you?”

Well- none of those thoughts were at the forefront of your mind before that but now? You’re acutely aware of the fact the hand you’re holding is so close to your lap and how close his chest is to your knees.

“No?” Your attempt to lie was uniquely pathetic but it earns you another laugh.

“And if I was thinking something dirty, you wouldn’t think less of me would you doll?” He slowly stands up as he speaks, tall frame hovering over you.

“I would never.” Your voice comes out as a whisper as you stare up at him.

“You’re too good to me sweetheart.” The hand not in your lap is used to hold himself as he leans further over you, face closing in on yours. “But I gotta know this isn’t just a treatment plan.”

“No- Beckman-“

“Benn.” He corrects softly.

“Benn.” You repeat. “I want this. I want you.”

That’s all he needs before he closes the gap and kisses you. His lips are chapped but his kiss is soft and the hand in your lap moves to intertwine his finger with yours. His kisses you until you’re breathless, having to pull away to gasp for air. As you do he moves to your neck, pressing delicate kisses along the sensitive skin. Your free hand comes up and tangles in his long grey hair, anchoring yourself.

“Can I-“ You moan as he mouths against the curve of your jaw. “Confess something.”

“Anything.” He stops to look into your eyes.

“You look really hot when you smoke.”

There’s a pause where he process what you says before bursting into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit.

“So that’s why you didn’t make me go cold turkey?” You feel his smile against your neck.

“I can be a little selfish.” His body is still a little too far away so you push your hips forward, able to just meet his. Benn groans against your neck as you feel his clothed length press against you.

“Doc, be as selfish as you want.” He adjusts his stance so he no longer has to lean on his hand and uses the now free arm to pull you flush with him. You automatically wrap your legs around his hips, moaning at the friction.

“Then can I selfishly ask for you to take your shirt off?”

“Of course.” He places one more quick kiss on your lips before pulling away and taking off his shirt. You can’t help but admire his frame- broad shoulders filtering down into a narrow waist.

“Don’t go giving me an ego now sweetheart, I’ll be as bad as our captain.” His fingers play at the hem of your shirt before pushing under, calloused finger tips splaying over your stomach.

“You could never.” You press up against his touch, needy. “C’mon Benn.”

His hands slide up and push your shirt up over your head and the second the fabric is past your face he’s kissing you again, deeper than before. Your legs grip tighter around his waist, chasing any friction you can get. His hands now push against the waistband of your pants and he breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear.

“Let up a second doll.” You obey without a second thought, unhooking your legs so he can yank your pants and underwear off, stepping away so he can fully snuck them off your legs.

Long fingers hold your thighs open as he hovers back for a second, getting a good look at your soaked core. Embarrassed you go to shut your legs but you’re not match for Benn’s strength.

“Don’t hide yourself from me.” He finally moves back in, slotting his hips against yours as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. There’s a hunger to his kisses now as you press your hips up and grind against him, moaning into his mouth.

You feel those long fingers dip down between your bodies and you let up on your grinding, inviting him in. Two fingers press into you and you break away from his kiss to throw you head back in a moan. His mouth moves to your neck as his fingers take you apart, curling in while his thumb gives you the pressure you need on your clit.

“Fuck- Benn-“ You hand comes up to grip in his hair and as he hits that spot inside you you pull on his hair.

His fingers falter for a second as he groans into your neck and you smile knowingly. “You like that?”

“Don’t tease me doll.” He redoubles his efforts, a third finger sliding in that makes you see stars.

You can only hold onto him while he takes you apart with just one hand, your moans filling the air as you get closer and closer to your peak. You slap his shoulder as you feel yourself on that edge, warning him.

“Hm? Don’t worry I can feel how close you are sweetheart, it’s alright I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?” His low voice is right in your ear and is all you need to be pushed right over the edge.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” Benn speaks to you softly as he slowly pulls his fingers out and you whine at the loss.

You watch as his holds his fingers up and you can see them covered in your slick. You’re about to be embarrassed and turn your gaze away but then his tongue darts out and licks and sucks away all of your cum. It’s hypnotizing the way he actually relishes in your taste and you feel a whole new wave of need wash over you.

“Benn- I need you in me now.” You pull his hair tight and he chuckles.

“Who am I to say no?” His hands quickly work at his pants, pulling them down just enough to release his cock, springing up to lay at your folds.

You can’t see his dick from this angle but you can feel it- long and veiny as Benn grinds between your folds. You moan as he ruts up against your clit but you’ve had enough teasing.

“Inside- please Benn.” You whine and he presses a surprisingly soft kiss to your cheek.

He guides his tip to your entrance and he easily slides in after all the work he did moments before. The two of you groan in unison as he slowly pushes in, careful not to hurt you. He stills when he’s full sheathed in you, his head resting on your shoulders as he pants.

“Sorry- fuck doll you just feel so good- need a second.” You feel him throbbing inside you and you run your hands through his hair gently, giving him the time.

“Take your time baby. Love feeling so full.” He seems to reach and fill every last inch of you and you soak up the feeling as he gathers himself.

“Gonna start moving.” He warns you just before he slowly moves out, the drag making your toes curl.

He’s slow and steady and you can feel every inch of him moving in and out of you. One of his hands is holding him steady against the table while the other is on your hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin there.

“You feel so good sweetheart- so warm and tight around me- knew you’d feel good doll.” He whispers loving praises into your ear as he thrusts and you grip the base of his ponytail to anchor yourself.

It’s not long before his pace picks up and you lock your legs around his waist as his thrusts get rougher and deeper. Your moans and the sound of his hips meeting yours fill your office, the lewdness of it all making your head spin.

“Fuck- I can feel you gripping me doll- you close? Keep- fuck- keep sounding like that I’m not gonna last long.” The hand on your hip moves and one of those damn fingers finds your clit again. You yank on his hair and grin at the way his pace stutters when you do so. “Just like that doll- please-“

You can’t deny him- not when he’s making you feel this good. You pull on his hair as your other hand grips onto his shoulder for dear life. Praise spills out of Benn’s mouth as he thrusts into you and works your clit and there’s nothing you can do but take what you’re being given. It’s not long before you feel your orgasm building up, vision blurring at the edges as you throw your head back.

“You’re almost there aren’t you sweetheart? Need to feel you cum around me- fuck- please doll.” He sounds so needy and at his demanding you’re pushed over the edge again, cumming around his cock.

“Shit-“ Benn spits out as he quickly pulls out of you and right as he does so you feel his warm cum splatter onto your hips and stomach.

The two of you catch your breath, still holding each other closely as you both figure out how to speak full sentences again. Benn’s the first to regain functions, pressing a kiss to your forehead before untangling himself from you. He walks away but you see him go over to your sink and wet a wash cloth, coming back over and cleaning you up. You hum in appreciation, kissing whatever skin of his you have access to as he works.

“So Doc, if I ever need a distraction…” His hands hold your hips as he looks down at you with a smile.

“Then you can come find me.” There’s a slight pause before you add on- “Preferably in a bed next time.”

The two of you laugh and you’ve never been so happy with a course of treatment.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #benn beckman x reader #x reader #discordantwritings