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freakystrashdump · 6 months

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🔮The Oracle Bakery🔮

Emperor Belos|Phillip Wittebane/OC

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, Belos is a content warning by himself

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Chapter 16: Forget-me-not meringues

Hunter had felt like, perhaps, that lying on the cold, hard earth, waiting for death to claim him, would have been an easier option. As opposed to, well, being forced to come face to face with the woman he was so horrible towards, all the while she was nothing short of kind to him in return.

And yes, by now he was seriously considering the scenario where Selena Fortuna was, truthfully and honestly, nice to him, with no nefarious reasoning behind her actions.

He heard it in passing last night: Steve, her assigned guard, was muttering to himself about how much it sucked that this all happened “Just as they stopped fighting over you- oh crap, I shouldn’t have said that”, before nervously bidding his farewell to the young royal and making his exit without giving Hunter the chance to stop him.

What did he mean by fighting over him?

As if the guilt hadn’t been enough, eating at him from the second he knocked that cake out of the baker’s hands. Now it was hitting critical mass with the knowledge that she was poisoned and was in critical condition. And it happened whilst she was protecting the Emperor.

That was his job, damn it. If someone was to get hurt, then it should have been…

And as he paced nervously in front of the Emperor’s chambers last night, waiting desperately for any news, he felt even worse as the oppressing, hostile aura emanating from Magnus, Selena’s uncle, weighed on Hunter like a bag of bricks.

And here Hunter thought his uncle was intimidating.

So, as he made his way back to Belos’ chambers, having received a summon from Hettie, Hunter once more considered the option of maybe just waiting for death to come and take him.

He didn’t do it, of course, but he considered it.

Arriving at the doors of the Emperor's chambers, the first thing that Hunter had noticed was that the terrifying presence of Magnus was missing - thank the Titan. One less stress to add to this entire fiasco. The young prince stood in front of the doors, picking dust off of his uniform and smoothing out any wrinkles, buying himself more time to gather up his courage. With one last adjustment to his mask to make sure it was on straight, Hunter breathed in deeply and knocked on the Emperor's doors.

“Come in.”

Well. Might as well get this over with, as it can’t get any worse. Decisively, Hunter opened the doors and stepped inside. To his surprise, he found his Uncle not in his empirical robes - Belos sat on one of the sofas, dressed casually, leisurely, though his mask was still on. It made Hunter wonder if someone else was there.

“You called for me, uncle?”

Belos looked at him pointedly, the hollow eyes of his mask making Hunter shudder "Ah, Hunter. You came quickly." He spoke absent-mindedly, letting his elbows rest on his knees and lacing his fingers together to make a place for him to lean his chin on "The Fortuna is going to be making a full recovery." He informed courtly "She is in my bedchambers as we speak, along with her uncle. They are currently informing her family of her health."

The relief Hunter felt upon hearing this news was instant. “I am…” he hesitated as he felt his chest constrict, fighting the tornado of emotions inside “...incredibly relieved to hear that, uncle.”

There was a heavy pause in conversation between them, Belos staring the boy down, mulling over his words.

Hunter felt himself break into cold sweat.

After a moment that lasted far too long, Belos spoke again “I have been meaning to ask you, Hunter.” he started as he rose to his feet, beginning to slowly close the distance between the two of them “During the night, Selena and I spoke, has something… transpired between you two?” he stopped in front of Hunter “From what I heard, the girl is under the impression that, ah how to put it, ah yes. That you hate her.” he tilted his head slightly towards him “Poor thing seemed so very hurt by the prospect.”

Hunter swallowed hard, yet he remained silent.

“Such a shame.” Belos tutted “I have tried my best not to mix you up in all of this, you understand. But, alas.” he sighed, disappointment oozing out of him “I knew you weren’t fond of her, so I tried sparing both of your feelings. But, bleeding heart that she is, Selena insisted on treating you every time she visited.” there was a flash of blue under the mask, brief but threatening “We even fought over her stubbornness as she went explicitly against my wishes to leave you be. Unfortunate as it was.”

As if the guilt hadn't weighed on him heavily already.

The boy swallowed thickly, feeling nausea wash over him "So… it is true." He muttered to himself, gaze focused at the floor "She wasn't… she wasn't malicious..."

"Hmm?” He heard Belos through the brain fog of his own thoughts ”I couldn't hear you, Hunter, do stop mumbling to yourself."

Hunter shook his head, clearing it of rushing thoughts “I do not-” he cut himself off, opting not to go on the defence immediately “It’s true, uncle. I was… less than courteous to Miss Fortuna the last time I saw her.” he let out a shaky breath, not sure how he managed to keep his voice from breaking “That may be where she had… gotten that impression.” he looked up at Belos with eyes wide in mild panic “And I feel horrible about it! Especially now! I- I don’t know how to make it better, I-”

“Have you tried apologising?” Belos cut off his rant, successfully de-escalating the boy's rampant thoughts “From our talk, I am certain she holds no ill will towards you. An honest apology for your actions may do wonders.”

The suggestion made Hunter grimace under the mask “I’m not sure-” he started, uncertain, but straightened out when he felt Belos place his hand on his shoulder.

“It’s a start.” he persisted “And if you do it honestly - and from your heart - I'm sure she will accept it.”

Hunter felt heavy under his uncle's gaze and he looked away, taking the time to let his words settle in his head. Just an apology? Hunter scoffed, what good will that do? He thought bitterly, the image of the woman’s face welling up with tears etched into his mind at this point, haunting him with guilt every time he closed his eyes. The anxiety laid heavy in his throat, like a stone he couldn’t fully swallow. It almost felt as bad as the disappointment he could sometimes see in his uncle’s eyes as he failed him yet again.

But, he tried to reason, if Belos insisted that an apology would be enough, then who was he to doubt him. Afterall, Hunter has dealt with worse before - so what is a little apology in comparison?

There was the sound of laughter which, surprisingly enough, came from Belos’ bedroom, catching Hunter by surprise. Seeing the boy's head snap in that direction, Belos chuckled “Ah, it seems her family is in good spirits, now that she’s recovered.” he said, turning away from Hunter to go and sit back on the sofa. Hunter followed after him diligently “Now, I wonder. Do you remember what I’ve told you about the Fortunas, Hunter?”

The boy stood obediently by his side “Yes, uncle.” he said, staring straight ahead as he thought back “The Fortuna’s are one of the strongest and most influential clans of oracles in the Boiling Isles, going back generations, even before the implementation of the Coven System.” he recited in a way where it was obvious that this was something he had heard repeated a hundred times before “Their current matriarch is one of the first to receive a sigil, and she was also one of the biggest turning points when it came to getting public approval in implementing the system itself.”

“Correct. You remember well.” Belos praised him, and Hunter felt his chest swell with joy “It was Madame Isabella Fortuna, I know her well.” he filled in what the boy missed and sighed as nostalgia washed over him “Ah. Madame Isabella. How she hated my proposition for the coven system. But - she cared for her family more .”

Hunter’s head snapped to stare at his uncle in shock.

“The Fortunas have always put the needs of their kin above the needs of the rest.” Belos chuckled, “And that is exactly why they still remain one of my most loyal allies.”

“But…” Hunter hesitated “...you just said-”

“That Isabella opposed me every step of the way as the messenger of the Titan? That she hated the sigils, despite being one of the first to receive one?” Belos laughed softly to himself “Oh, that much is certain. But, Isabella had given her full public support to every decree I’ve ever made, and remained loyal to my rule, all for one simple promise on my part.” Hunter could hear the smile he wore under the mask “Every Fortuna that bows to the Emperor’s crown will always be kept safe under my rule.”

Belos straightened in his seat and turned to Hunter, before continuing “And that is an important lesson for you to learn, Hunter.” he said matter-of-factly “Every person has a price on their loyalty, and you should always put extra care into finding what that price is, especially for those who wish to oppose you.” he tilted his head slightly downwards as he gave Hunter a knowing look behind the mask “Your worst enemy can easily be turned into your fiercest ally, as long as you know what their loyalty costs.”

Hunter let his words settle slowly, carefully, picking them apart inside his head.

The Fortuna family was one he had known of his entire life, even crossing paths with them - with how involved Belos was with them. Magnus, in particular, was a familiar face in the palace, and Hunter had crossed paths with the matriarch as well - an older woman with eyes of fire. The fact that Belos himself regarded them so highly made this confession all the more surprising: that their loyalty had not always been one inclined to his Titan-bestowed rule. That Isabella herself opposed him.

That is, until she didn’t.

Until she became a key figure in popularising the, at the time controversial, coven system. Isabella Fortuna's staunch support during this time became an open secret nowadays, in a way, after most of the main family became more recluse, and sources on what happened half a century ago became lost.

People forget fast, afterall.

But Hunter did not. Even if these events all happened way before his time, Belos never let him forget - he seemed way too pleased, way too giddy whenever the topic of the Fortunas would get brought up in any way, shape, or form. Like he was savouring every single moment of their undying support.

Perhaps he enjoyed the irony of it? Who's to say.

Hunter’s attention, however, was soon stolen away, as the door to Belos’ bedchambers opened. For a brief moment, the sound of laughter was louder, and joyful conversation reached his ears. Magnus stood by the now open door as he continued to speak to the woman inside “I’ll be waiting patiently to take you home, then.” the older man spoke in a tone Hunter had never heard come from him before. Not in all the years he’d seen him shadowing Osran.

Soft and loving. Happy.

Hunter didn’t know he could do that.

As soon as Magnus closed the doors behind him, it was an instant change in demeanour. The cheerful facade dropped, and Hunter had to stop himself from buckling under the aggressive energy emanating from the man.

Yeah, that was more familiar of what he knew of the Fortuna.

“Emperor.” Magnus acknowledged, now in full business mode “Golden Guard.”

“Magnus.” Belos nodded back “From what I could hear, I trust she is in good spirits, yes?”

Hunter could not help but notice the man's lips twitch, just barely, into a deeper scowl "My dearest niece is doing well, my lord." He let out, voice even and contained "And it is all thanks to the expert care you have provided." Magnus bowed his head as he continued "You have my gratitude, my lord, as well as the gratitude of my entire family. Truly we are in your debt."

"There is no need for that. After all, I have grown to cherish your niece dearly - making sure no harm comes to her is the least I can do."

The glee behind his words was more than obvious, Hunter noted. Bubbling just under the surface.

"Of course, Emperor." Magnus answered courtly, then grimaced for a short moment, before schooling his expression back "And I do apologise if I was at any point short with you during these past critical hours. Emotions were high, and I let them overtake me despite knowing better."

Belos got up from his seat, hands placed neatly behind his back as he casually walked past the sofa and to the Fortuna prodigy "Worry muddles even the most rational of minds." He placed a hand on his shoulder, tilting his head before he continued "Do not dwell on it, as I have not taken any offence." Belos removed his hand from Magnus’ shoulder and placed it behind his back once more "Now." He started cheerfully "Feel free to go back to your duties. I shall call for you when Selena is ready to go home."

Magnus gave a curt bow of his head, hand to his heart, and made a swift exit.

It was a full minute of uneasy silence before Belos spoke again, as if waiting to make sure the man left fully out of earshot. "See how easily even the most brutish of witches can be tamed, Hunter?" Belos hummed in a low tone "As long as you know their price."

"Yes, uncle."

Belos chuckled softly, amused "Now, let's check up on our little hero, shall we?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

With a knock, and not waiting for a proper response, either, Belos let himself - and Hunter - into his bedchambers.

Hunter could not pinpoint the weird feeling of seeing… well, anyone , really, occupying his uncle's bed, let alone in such a state. Sure, Hunter reasoned, she was in there to receive care, no other reason. But he had never seen anyone enter his uncle's bedchambers, ever . And - Wait, was that his uncle's sleep shirt?! Thank the Titan for his mask being in place, because Hunter couldn't stop the cringing grimace he made.

It felt similar to the feeling of realising your parents were intimate together. Even though they weren't his parents, and they for sure were not intimate in any sense of the word.

"Emperor, Hunt- Golden Guard, it's a pleasure to see you." Selena quickly corrected herself, all the while smiling brightly at the two "Thank you for giving my uncle and I a moment of privacy, my lord."

"Miss Fortuna!" Hunter jumped in, nerves getting the best of him. "I, uh, I'm glad to see you in good health, ma'am." Hunter spoke formally, back straight and head held high.

"T-thank you, Golden Guard." Selena was sincere, if a bit nervous. Still wary of accidentally stepping on his toes like she did before - she did not want to address the boy too casually, lest he got angry with her again.

"I hope you don't mind-" the two turned their attention to Belos, feeling thankful for his interruption and breaking up the weird, awkward air between them "-but Hunter was incredibly worried last night, I just had to let him see you."

Using his name in front of her, on purpose, and not sounding angry whilst doing so? Selena raised an eyebrow, feeling as if something had changed, but wasn't quite sure what .

"Oh, no, no I don't mind, not at all. I'm touched, actually, that you were worried, Golden Guard." Selena's lips twitched upwards, giving a lopsided smile. Hunter just nodded, not sure what to say.

"I knew you wouldn't." Belos sounded smug as he said that. "Ah, and I believe you had something you wished to tell our guest, if I'm not mistaken?" He pushed, one hand placed on Hunter's back "Isn't that right, Hunter?"

Hunter looked up at his uncle, nodding, and turned to Selena once more. He cleared his throat and placed one hand behind his back, the other clenched in a fist on his chest "Thank you for protecting the Emperor, miss Fortuna. Your acts of heroism are an inspiration to me and my entire coven."

Selena blinked owlishly as he gave her a short bow "Your coven...oh, oh right, you're now the head of the Emperors Coven!" No wonder he always seemed to be stressed, with the weight his uncle put on him. A coven head, at his age? "And, uh, you're welcome, Golden Guard. I like to think I've done what anyone else would do, if put in my place, so don't dwell on it too much, haha."

Please. Don't dwell on it too much.

As Hunter stood there, Belos by his side, his hands fidgeted - fingers flexing anxiously as he tried to form words. He practised them! He really did, thinking of any and every possible way to put his thoughts in order and to speak to her as soon as she was better. But now, he was pulling up blanks, which in return made him all the more nervous.

The hand on his back put a little more pressure "Ahem." Belos chimed in "Are you sure that's all you wanted to say?"

"I, uh, no, there was… there was more." Hunter stumbled over his words "Miss Fortuna, I-" his uncle clearing his throat again took Hunter's attention and he looked up at him. The man very casually brought up his free hand close to his own face, and with one finger rapped gently on the mask twice. A clear sign that Hunter was quick to react to "Oh right." He fumbled a bit, posture relaxing as he did, and brought his hands up to his head. In one swift move, his mask was off, revealing a pair of crimson eyes and a nervous, gap toothed nervous smile.

Selena's hand flew to her lips on instinct to muffle the gasp that escaped her.

"I wanted to-"

Hunter started on his speech which he has repeated so many times to himself the eve before, but was quickly interrupted. The woman on the bed was scrambling out of the sheets - she sat upon her knees at the edge of the bed, pulling on the long men's sleep shirt she wore to cover her legs as much as she could, and grabbed her glasses from the night table, putting them on.

"Goodness, Darius wasn't kidding when he called you little prince , look at you!" She started, giddy beyond belief "Come here, closer , I gotta take a good look at you!" She made grabby hands, beckoning him over, all the prim and guarded air around her from seconds ago gone.

Hunter, rightfully so, seemed nervous, eyes flying up to Belos for a hint, anything , on what he should do. Maybe even hoping he'd get him out of this all together, but alas, Belos simply tilted his head in a "well go on" gesture, and pushed on his back before withdrawing his hand fully. So there was not much he could do apart from obeying the awaiting woman, crossing the room until he stood a foot away from the bed.

He saw the oracle's eyes sparkle, comically so "Oh, now I get why you wear the mask - if you didn't you'd have to beat the teenage population of the Boiling Isles away from you with a stick!" She joked, giggling to herself.

"Why…would I beat up teenagers?" Hunter asked so truthfully, it almost hurt

"Wha- Hunter, I'm not saying literally , I'm calling you handsome !" Selena was somewhat taken aback by his response, but laughed either way, finding it endearing "Haven’t you ever received a compliment before?" Behind him, Hunter heard his uncle stifle a laugh. Selena frowned as she looked over his shoulder. She twisted her lips, before they widened into a smirk, eyes sparkling for a brief second.

"Is that why your uncle hides behind a mask as well?"

Belos immediately broke his laugh with a cough, turning quiet at that comment. And in return, Selena's face beamed with pride and mischief, before turning her attention back to Hunter.

"You…think I'm handsome?" The boy blushed, hand smoothing his hair back nervously as he did.

"Look at you! Fair hair, striking eyes, such royal features! Witches your age dream about boys like you, for sure!" She assured him. The little smile growing on Hunter's face was the sweetest thing Selena had seen all week. It was always sad to her, just how little boys got praised in such a way: given compliments, called pretty, when they were so hungry for them.

Every single person likes being called pretty, it doesn't matter who or what they are.

The little bashful smile didn't last long, as Hunter seemed to have gathered his wits and shook his head, trying to concentrate and get back on track "Wait, wait, wait, stop ! That's not why I wanted to see you! Stop doing that!"

"Stop doing what?"

"That!" He huffed, annoyed "You - interrupting me! You- keep breaking my train of thought!"

"Oh!" Selena put a hand to her lips, faux aghast "Okay, okay, I'll stop, go ahead please." She sat more properly, placing her hands on her knees and straightening her back, looking poignantly at the boy. She gave him a little nod and put on the most serious face she could muster.

Finally, Hunter thought, and cleared his throat "Miss Fortuna. I want to apologise for my behaviour when we last met. It was unbecoming of me, both as the heir to the throne and as the head of the Emperor's coven. You did nothing to deserve such horrid treatment, and I hope you can forgive me." He bowed his head low, waiting for her response.

But, for some reason, he got… none . Nothing, except silence. And it was starting to make him nervous. Slowly, just enough so he could see her expression, he lifted his head, peering through one eye, only to snap his head completely up, fully in shock, once he caught a glimpse of her face. The Oracle in front of him was absolutely giddy. Her hands were clasped together in front of her face, palm to palm, and then there was her smile - so wide it looked like it hurt her cheeks from the strain. Her eyes were wide and sparkling, with little tiny tears in the corners. And, all the while, she kept making the weirdest, high pitched noise, rising in pitch the longer it went.

What…what in the world…?

"You even sound like a prince!" Selena finally let out, albeit too loudly and high pitched. She squeezed her hands into fists, which in return started shaking with excitement, all the while bouncing up and down on the bed "Oh, oh I'm doing it again, aren't I?" She sounded apologetic, even though her face didn't quite show it. "I'm so sorry, I can't help myself, you're such a sweet young man!"

At this point, Hunter was sure his face was red from how hot it felt. He couldn't even tell for sure if he was embarrassed, or flattered, or annoyed, or maybe all three - he didn't often deal with people complimenting him. With people… being so nice .

"You're, uh, not mad at me?" He let out, meekly. The tone of his voice seemed to have finally put an end to Selena's bubbly outburst.

"I mean, I was more distraught than mad." Selena cleared her throat, chasing away the former high "The last thing I wanted to do was upset you, and that ended up being exactly what I did. So that didn't…feel good." Her eyes fluttered behind him briefly "Especially since the Emperor warned me not to be so pushy with you, and I insisted I knew better." She let out a nervous laugh "If anything, I should be the one apologising to you both."

The young royal was about to tell her there was no need for an apology on her part, he just wanted this entire thing to be over and to make sure she didn't hate him. Even though, he thought, she had every right to. However, he was startled into silence by his uncle, who somehow managed to sneak up on them both without either noticing.

"Oh, there is no need for that, Selena." Belos spoke as he passed him, going straight to sit on the edge of the bed, right next to the oracle. Her shoulders tensed as he placed a hand against her cheek, turning her face towards him "Despite your… lapse of judgement, I cannot hold it against you, as I know it came from a heart full of compassion." His fingers moved, pushing stray hairs behind her ear "Naive as it is, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately." She muttered under her breath, half-heartedly. The feeling of fingers pushing harder behind her ear, however, made her elicit a small hiss through her nose.

A warning, for getting too cheeky in her responses.

"I do admire the love you hold for all the children of the Isles." Belos continued, like his nails weren't currently leaving indents in her skin "But it is a tedious thing, I admit, having to make sure no one takes advantage of such childlike naivete." The pressure finally lessened, and Selena's eyes twitched as she felt the nails unstick from the flesh they were pressing into "Do be careful of lesser men, will you?"

The way Belos gently, just barely, tilted his head to the side, adjacent shoulder rising up as he did, it felt incredibly mocking - condescending.

"Of course, Emperor." Selena did her best to smile back, biting her tongue "I will try my best. As you should as well, not to mistake my compassion with naiveté, that is" She added in cheekily "Though, compared to you, any man is a lesser man. Who can measure up to the messenger of the Titan, afterall."

Belos exhaled loudly through his nose in a barely stifled laugh. And if she could see his face, Selena would have been greeted by the most smug, annoying smirk ever to grace a witches face, a clear show that what he thought about that statement of hers was "Yes, exactly. So do not trust other men but me."

"Now, don't be cheeky." He answered instead, hand moving back to her cheek, giving it a gentle pinch as he did. He gave her head a tiny shake, as if she were a child being greeted by aunts they see twice a year. As soon as he let go, Selena's hand flew up to her face, cheeks puffing up in an indignant pout, as she proceeded to rub the (not really) sore spot.

What a cute expression, Belos thought, it reminded him of a feral little kitten trying to look big and scary.

The two had their attention taken away from each other when Hunter - still awkwardly standing next to them - let out a nervous cough. Selena was the first one to gain her composure, smiling widely at him, as if nothing happened just seconds before "In any case, Hunter! Thank you for apologising." She exclaimed brightly, " I'm happy to know there is no ill will between us."

"Of course not, miss Fortuna." Hunter was quick to respond, head still spinning from watching the two interact so … casually? More importantly, seeing Belos , of all people, interact with someone so casually. All he saw was friendly banter, of course, not the threat behind the Emperor's touch, and it felt wildly unnatural to witness.

Like he was intruding on something intimate.

Hunter saw how Belos eyed him carefully. "If the worries you have carried from last night have been lifted, Hunter, then you're free to go back to your duties." He gestured to the woman next to him "Our miss Selena here needs to rest as much as possible before Hettie dismisses her from our care, you see."

"Oh, there is no need to send him away." Selena quickly interrupted, eyes flying between Belos and Hunter. She felt more confident, somehow safer , when not alone with Belos. So, going by what she knew of him so far, and desperate enough to attempt such a thing again, she pushed a little further, covering the Emperor's hand with her own "If he wishes to stay, he should feel free to do so, don't you agree, my lord?"

And it seemed to work, at least she thought it did. She felt the man next to her freeze up, if just for a brief moment, as her hand gently covered his own, palm so small compared to his. Selena gave him a hopeful look, hoping it would aid in breaking his determination.

It took longer than usual for Belos to answer her.

"Hunter has his duties to think of, both as the Golden Guard and a coven head." Belos started slowly, building up his resolve "I am afraid he really can't stay long." He turned back to Hunter, staring him down "Isn't that right, Hunter?"

And the boy's reaction was instant obedience, just like Selena had seen many times before "Emperor Belos is right, miss Fortuna. I have my duties to attend to."

Oh so close, but she was afraid to push his good graces further. Selena tried her best to not purse her lips in disappointment "Of course, I understand."

With one last bow, and with his heart feeling lighter than a feather, Hunter bid his goodbye to the two, leaving the room in a swift manner. He took the mask he held in his hands and secured it back in place, jumping back into his Golden Guard persona.

And as he did finally leave, Selena let out a deep sigh. While the boy felt lighter than a feather as his guilt alleviated, she, in fact, did not.

Especially not while she was stuck alone with him .

"Don't sound so disappointed." Belos chimed in "Am I such bad company that you do not wish to be alone with me?" He teased - very brazenly so, in fact.

The way her entire face lit up red in a matter of seconds was comical to behold "Wha- no! I'd never- I never said that, Emperor!" The woman stuttered as her voice reached entirely new heights in its pitch. And as soon as she did, Belos broke into a laugh, pleased to have caused the exact reaction he wanted from her "Mean! That was mean of you, Emperor!" Selena let out a whine, as it didn't take her long to figure out that he was intentionally making her fumble over herself.

It was instinctual, the way she hit his shoulder with her open palm. Afterall, she was the youngest of three, and used to being (lovingly) teased and fighting back when it did happen - in the same loving way, of course. And being the youngest, even she was aware that she was more spoiled than her older siblings, so it wasn't a rare occasion that her bratty side would come out.

But it usually came out with people she was close to, who she was friendly with.

Not with the man who, if he knew who she truly was, would want her dead - or worse .

Selena caught herself only after her palm made contact with the Emperor's arm - not a hard hit by any means, but to her it felt like it burned the second she had done it. She gasped as the mortification hit her all at once, struggling to decide whether to soothe the place she hit, or get as far away from him as possible, that she just remained rooted in place instead, so paralysed by horror, that she didn't even notice that Belos barely even registered what she had done.

"Oh, Titan below, I am so sorry, I didn't - I mean I, I don't-"

Belos, laughter still in his throat, turned to look at her "What ever do you mean?"

"I- I just - my lord, I was - I didn't mean to hit you, I forgot myself-"

"Goodness, Selena dear, you're working yourself into a tizzy." His laugh had subsided into a chuckle "Weren't you the one who broached the subject of us being friends first?"

Selena was caught off guard by that. She was , wasn't she? When she asked for his favour in dealing with Odalia Blight, that's when she officially marked their relationship a friendship. "I suppose I was, my lord."

With both hands, Belos took hold of her face, squishing her cheeks together "Then what is this all about, Selena?" He chastised playfully, his face very close to hers "If we are to be friends, you can't be having a panic attack whenever you behave friendly towards me, hmm?" He chuckled. His eyes were in clear view, Selena noted, the smiling crinkles in the corner of his eyes and the deep blue shining even in the shadows of his mask, making her head spin "Why, how do you think that makes me feel, having to walk on eggshells around you all the time?"

Selena quickly looked to the side, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Not… good, I suppose."

"Not good indeed." Belos sighed "Promise you will try for me?"

"Yes, Emperor Belos."

She heard him exhale through his nose in a small laugh "That is what I like to hear.” Belos spoke, pleased as one can be, and reached over to the night table adjacent to the bed. “Now, I have been thinking of ways to make sure both you and I stay safe in the face of current events.” He opened the drawer, taking out a box that comfortably fit in his open palm. “I wanted to assign guards to watch you, to make sure you are safe. However, perhaps this needs a more… subtle approach.-'' he presented the box to the oracle, opening it for her to see inside.

Selena felt cold sweat wash over her instantly, goosebumps running down her spine.

Bad news . Real bad news .

The oracle sixth sense never slept. Not really. And the moment Selena saw the rose gold brooch, shaped like a blooming carnation, it instantly sent off blaring alarms in her head.

Her throat felt dry as she struggled to speak “Ah, well…” she paused, trying her best not to grimace “Hmm, that's a very pretty brooch, how… how exactly would it work?”

Belos placed the box on his lap, taking the brooch out and holding it up to let her have a closer look. “Nothing too complex, it carries a magical insignia embedded inside of it.” He moved closer, making Selena freeze as his adept fingers attached the brooch to the men's shirt she wore. To her left side, above her breast “And when it is in contact with a specific wearer, the insignia will let off a unique energy - one which I can effortlessly recognise.”

The moment the pin was safely in place, Selena could feel exactly what he described. She could sense the hum of magic coming from the brooch, it felt like it was calibrating to her own magic.

She hoped to Titan that it wouldn't see past her removable sigil.

“There we go.” Belos purred, pleased. With his right hand, he pressed his middle and forefinger, now glowing red, to the carnation, his magic seeping into it as he did.

And Selena felt the calibration lock into place, now replaced by a steady, unique magical aura. She let her fingers gingerly graze over the petals.

“Did- did it work?” Selena asked, looking down to inspect the jewellery piece.

“Like a charm.” He answered, satisfied.

That only made her feel more uneasy. She couldn't wait to say take the damned thing off.

“Do… you like carnations, Emperor?” She tried switching the subject, hoping to lessen her unease.

“They are… satisfactory, as far as flowers go.”

Selena licked her lips nervously before continuing “Did you know, pink carnations mean that one will not forget you?” She blabbered absentmindedly “You know, since this is rose gold and all.”

“Ah, the language of flowers.” Belos chimed in, almost too gleeful “Hmm, is that so? I must say, I'm not well versed in this specific art.”

“It's somewhat old and forgotten, though some knowledge of it still remains, especially in potion making.” Selena remained focused on the brooch “I had a phase when I was younger, thinking I was so smart, when I learned a lot about it and wanted to send secret messages. Turns out it's not effective when the one receiving flowers does not know the meaning.”

Belos chuckled, “Yes, I see how that could pose a problem.” He continued “So, giving a pink carnation would signify that I will never forget you, then?”

“Y-yes, that is correct.”

“Well then, I suppose the gift fits perfectly then, in more ways than one.”

The oracle felt her entire face warm up, and quickly turned away from him in an attempt to hide it “W-well, it's a good thing you hadn't picked just gold then. Yellow carnations mean rejection and disappointment.” she let out a nervous laugh “Wouldn't that be something, haha~”

“Hmm, if that were the case, I'd have had the entire thing remade.”

Selena paused, somehow that statement made her mind go blank. That was sweet. Why was that sweet?! Worst of all, why did she consider it as such, because even if it was objectively a sweet sentiment, she of all people should not have considered it to be one. Not from him. Not towards her.

So why did it make her heart skip a beat for just a single, solitary second?

Her hands were shaking as they reached for the brooch, jaw clenched tight as she struggled to take it off. “I'll make sure to wear it whenever I come to visit, then.” She let out with all the niceness she could physically muster, feeling instant relief when she finally unclasped the damned thing “But for now, it'd be a shame for something to happen to it, don't you agree?” she took hold of his hand which held the jewellery box, bringing it closer to her. Forcing the shakes off, she managed to place the brooch back into the velvet box, gently pushing the Emperor's hand back to him.

“Please, don't let me forget to take it when I leave?” She asked sweetly, letting her thumb trace a pattern into the back of Belos’ hand “I'd hate to leave such a thoughtful gift behind.”

And it seemed that this time, at least, her charm worked, as Belos’ posture seemed to relax, and without objecting he placed the jewellery box back on the night table. Turning back, he mirrored her actions from before, his hand covering hers as his thumb pressed softly into her wrist, feeling her heartbeat.

“Of course, Selena. I'll make sure you remember.”

#the owl house #the oracle bakery #philip wittebane #philip wittebane x oc #emperor belos #emperor belos x oc #fanfiction #reader insert #self insert

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

nice (iii)

warnings: mentions of sexual content, cursing, hella flirting, these two cannot get enough of each other

wordcount: 7.2k

_______

The rest of the drive was easy - Sophie fell asleep three times, Rafe flicked her to wake her up and entertain him twice, and they stopped to take pictures along the coast when they got lunch in Montpellier, fumbling their way through “bonjour” and “merci” and pointing at the sandwiches in the display case that they wanted. When they finally made it to Nice, Rafe was ready to stretch and take a nap while Sophie was ready to jump into the ocean. So they compromised and went to the beach after dragging their suitcases to their hotel room, towels in hand.

Sophie let him nap for a solid fifteen minutes before she got bored and came out of the water, trying to convince him to come swim. Her method of choice consisted of sprawling on top of him with her hair and swimsuit still soaking wet, effectively jerking him out of his sleep - he just groaned and wrapped his arms around her to bring her tighter. “No.”

“Yes. Come play.” She nuzzled her head into his neck, then nipped at his skin.

“No, Soph, sleepin’.” He protested, a little grumpy, and kept his eyes shut.

“No you’re not, you’re awake now.” She grinned. “Come on, we can go to bed early tonight. You can’t still be jetlagged, that’s impossible.”

“I’m tired, I had to drive the whole way.”

“I would have driven.” She protested, scratching her nails lightly down his chest.

“Yeah, driven us off a cliff. Five more minutes.” He hummed, still not opening his eyes.

“No. Come swim now.” She urged, nudging her head a little higher so her wet hair dragged over his face. He startled, then lifted his head, scowling. “You’re being a brat.”

Sophie only smirked in response. “I can be worse. Come onnnnn, sleep later.”

He sat up a little, sighing. “You promise to actually let me sleep tonight?”

“I swear on my life. I’ll stick to my side of the bed and everything.” She nodded solemnly, rolling off him so he could stand.

“Alright.” He nodded, knowing she wouldn’t keep her promise, and hauled himself up, then offered his hand to drag her up too. She jumped up with an eager grin and he rolled his eyes. “You’re cute.”

“I know. Race you!” She started sprinting toward the water - he strolled leisurely behind her, taking his time to stride in once she jumped off the dock. He swam up underwater and grabbed her around the waist, making her squeal and shove at him. He was laughing as he bobbed up and started swimming, going with her out past the crest of the waves.

After a while of swimming and Sophie trying to float on her back without Rafe snatching her down from under the water, she reached out for him. “I’m tired. Carry me.”

“Wonder why, it’s not like you slept on the entire drive here.” He stretched out his hands toward her to pull her in.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” She asked him, swimming closer. He raised his eyebrows. “In France? Dunno, I always figured I’d visit Paris one day.”

“No, no.” She swam close enough to bump into him and grinned when he reached down and pulled her legs around his waist, so he was treading for both of them. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He smiled and bumped his nose against hers, beaming. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like...us.”

“Gonna have to elaborate more for me, Soph.”

She rested her arms around his neck and brought one hand up to play with the ends of his hair, getting longer by the day. “If you’d told me in high school, or even the start of junior year, that we’d be in love and on vacation together in France, just us - I’d say you were insane.”

“Hm.” He nodded, thoughtful. “I don’t know. It might have seemed a little out there, but.”

“But?” She prompted, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of his nose.

Rafe wrinkled his nose in response with a smile, then leaned forward and did the same to her. “I don’t know. I always kind of figured we might end up dating, at some point. Or at least we’d try something between us for a little bit. Didn’t you?”

She tugged on his hair, grinning. “Rafe Cameron, you presumptuous bastard.”

“Answer the question.”

Sophie shook her head. “Honestly, no. I thought you were just flirting with me to be mean, a lot of the time.”

He laughed, shrugging. “What can I say. We’re like magnets, Soph, it’s undeniable.”

“Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes and let go of him, pushing off to swim back to shore.

“What! It’s romantic!” He protested, swimming after her and grabbing her ankle to tug her back. She yelped, kicking in his grip until he let go. “You’re embarrassing!”

“You love me!” He was faster and able to keep up by her side as she swam back leisurely. She giggled, surfacing for air after a long stroke underwater. “I never said I didn’t.”

The two made it back to shore quickly and he wrapped his arm around her, keeping her close as they walked back to their towels. They hadn’t let go of each other since they’d reunited - she held his hand, or he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, or she’d teasingly hook her ankle around his under the dinner table, sliding it up his calf until he shot her a warning glare. He reluctantly let go just to lay out the towels with a flourish, smoothing hers out for her. “Madame.”

“Monsieur.” She replied, grinning. He flopped down next to her and pulled his sunglasses on to nap again in the sun, while she pulled out a book and started reading. When he began to stir after a half hour of sleep, she glanced over at him. “Rafe?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever had sex on a beach?”

He was suddenly wide awake, whipping his head over to look at her. “Have I ever had what?” He repeated, sure he was going a little delusional. “What on earth are you reading?”

Suddenly she remembered the story that Brooklyn had told her when they first met, about the Bahamas, and shook her head. “No, actually, never mind.”

“No, no, wait, was that a suggestion or a question?” He prompted.

She shrugged, noncommittal, but she felt a familiar unease settle in her stomach. “Don’t really think I want to get arrested in France.”

He reached over and curled his hand around her ankle, tugging a little with a grin. “Who says we’ll get caught? It’s Nice, baby, half the people here are already topless. And you’re not, I should add, which is basically a crime of its own.”

She scowled, swatting at his hand when he teasingly pulled at the bikini string tied at her hip. “No, Rafe, it’s a bad idea. I shouldn’t have asked.” She couldn’t stop thinking of Brooklyn’s smug smile when Sophie had nearly choked on her wine after she called it “making love.” It irritated her to no end knowing that for nearly every first she’d have with Rafe, he had already had it with someone else.

“Hey.” He frowned, sensing her discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

She huffed a little, keeping her eyes trained on her book. “You did it with her. Right?”

“Her?”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Your ex.”

“Oh. That’s why you’re upset?” He slid her hand up her leg, trying to be reassuring. “We didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

“Have sex.” He paused, wincing as he corrected himself. “On the beach, I mean.”

“Oh.” She sat back a little. “Have you ever? On the beach?”

“Not on the beach.” He gave her a sly grin. “Not sure if I’d want sand in certain places, but I’m open to trying anything once.”

She set her book aside, rolling over on the towel to look him in the eye. “Was she your first?”

“Um. No.”

“Well?” She prompted.

He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a second to answer. “You remember Alexandra Harper?”

Sophie gasped, completely caught off guard. Of course she remembered Alexandra Harper - she’d gotten in a fight with her at school, in the locker rooms, when she was talking about how easy Rafe would be to hook up. “Her? Seriously?”

He shrugged, growing a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Senior year, some party at Top’s house.”

“Gross.” She shuddered, absorbing the information for a moment. “Okay, so how many?”

“How many...?” He repeated, unsure if he even wanted to venture into that territory.

“Yes. How many girls have you slept with? Or hooked up with?”

He paused, feeling like he was being set up for a trap. “What do you consider hooking up?”

Her nose wrinkled and she crossed her arms. “If she had your dick in her mouth. Or vice versa.” She paused, thinking. She wasn’t quite sure why she was pushing for this information, honestly, maybe it was just another test of trust - though that certainly wasn’t something she needed to test with Rafe, of all people. “I suppose fingers count too.”

“Do you really need to know?” He hedged, reaching for her hand to try and relax her a little, but she only budged away stubbornly. “Like, does it really matter if at the end of the day, I’m dating you?”

“Well, I suppose not, but. I’d like to know. Mine’s five.”

“Five!” He balked, not expecting as high a number. “I thought you said you’d only hooked up with one guy before me!”

“All the way, just two. Five if we’re going by my definition. Obviously you’re included in both.” She clarified primly, looking down her nose at him. “Go ahead. Your turn.”

“Fine, mine’s four. How many dicks have you sucked?” He frowned, growing more jealous by the second.

She blushed at his vulgarity and didn’t answer, just pushed her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose and picked up her book to read again.

He abandoned his towel and crawled on top of her, ignoring her noise of protest as he plucked the book out of her hands and set it aside. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.” He repeated, grazing his fingers up her side. She giggled, squirming under him. “Rafe, no!”

He grinned, repeating the action, and nipped at her collarbone, only regretting it a little as he tasted sunscreen. She tried shoving his head away, laughing as she hissed, “Quit, we’re in public!”

“Just tell me!”

“No! You’ll get a big head.” She argued, knowing she’d given herself away.

He paused, grinning. “It’s just me?”

She just shrugged and nudged at his shoulder, trying to get him off.

“Sophie.”

“Yes, it’s just you, happy?” She rolled her eyes as he puffed up a little in pride. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

“Because.” She blushed again, grabbing the book to cover her face. “I didn’t want you to think, like, oh, that makes sense.”

He laughed, reaching out and pushing her book down so he could see her. “You’re not serious?”

“I am! It’s a real concern, it’s like, scary when you’re face to face with one for the first time.” She insisted, laughing. “Especially yours, it’s bigger than I’ve seen -”

“You mean it?” He practically glowed, a little too proud of himself, and she kicked at his leg, rolling her eyes.

“Shut it. I just didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“No, please, go on about how big my dick is.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes, swatting him with the book again. “You’re supposed to say you couldn’t tell that I was clueless.”

“Trust me, baby. There was absolutely no issue there.” He grinned, leaning back onto his own towel with his hands tucked behind his head.

She hummed, satisfied. “You said yours is four?”

He made a noncommittal grunt, pulling his sunglasses back on.

“Do I know them all?”

“You’ve met Alexandra, and Brooklyn, and this smoking hot girl from back home...” He started, trying to hide the grin threatening to tug at his lips.

She frowned, setting her book down again - at this rate, she’d read five pages. “Who? Did she go to my school?”

“She did.” He confirmed with a nod, still not looking at her. “Super cute. Can’t believe you don’t remember.”

“Do you have another descriptor besides just smoking hot? Where’d she go to college?” She scowled, wracking her brain to think of who else had dated him in high school - and why the hell was he describing anyone but her as smoking hot, after all these years -

“Ohio State.”

“Rafe Cameron!” She smacked him with the book, making him yelp. “Jesus, woman, watch it, I’ll bruise!”

“You asshole.” She accused, not meaning it in the slightest. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” He grinned, grabbing her hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “The fourth was a touron, summer after freshman year of college. That’s all.”

“Oh, I hooked up with a touron once -” She started, and he held his hand out, shaking his head. “Nope. Don’t need to know.”

“But you just told me.”

“Because you wanted to know. The last thing I want to hear about is you with other guys.” He insisted, stealing her book away and tucking it back into her tote bag. In all honesty, he was kind of dying to know, but more so he could find all the boys and have a pointed conversation with them and figure out why the hell Sophie was so hesitant to commit to anything, ever, and what they’d done, but that was a topic for another day. “C’mon, let’s swim again. You’re looking red.”

“I should put sunscreen on again, probably.” She reached for her bag and he shook his head, standing and offering his hand. “Come swim. You’ll be fine.”

“Says you, looking like a tan Hercules out here, some fucking Greek god.” She scowled, accepting his hand and letting him drag her up. “It’s seriously unfair that you look like this.”

He grinned, chest puffed up proudly. “Go on.”

“C’mere,” she murmured, reaching up on her toes to kiss him. He kissed back for merely a second before lifting her up abruptly and hauling her over his shoulder, starting to run toward the ocean. She squealed, pounding on his back. “Rafe Cameron, if you don’t -”

The rest of her protests were abruptly cut off as he tossed her off the dock into the water, following with a graceful dive. He surfaced next to her, laughing as she came up sputtering. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Fucker.” She scowled, pushing her hair back into place.

He grinned and smacked a kiss to her cheek. “I have one question. Just one.”

“I feel like I’m not gonna like this.” She reached out and combed her fingers through his hair, trying to arrange it how she wanted.

“I’m the best, out of all five. Right?”

“The best boyfriend? Yeah, no doubt. I only dated two others of the five anyways.”

“No, not that.” He wrinkled his nose, feeling the little green monster of jealousy rise up again. “Like...sexually.”

“Oh.” She pretended to think for a long pause, longer than he expected, and he frowned. “Sophie.”

“Hold on, still deciding.”

“Sophieeee.” He whined, reaching out and circling his arms around her waist. “Tell me.”

“Well, there’s lots of factors, you see -” He finally caught the hint of a smirk on her lips and groaned, snapping her bikini string. “Stop, just say it.”

She leaned closer and brushed her lips against his ear as she spoke. “It’s you, dummy. It’s always going to be you.”

“Even if you sleep with Liam Hemsworth?” He grumbled. She made him watch the Hunger Games series once and he refused to watch it again, not wanting to hear her commentary again on how hot he was.

She giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw, loving how he automatically tipped his head back for more. “I don’t think that’ll be happening, baby.”

“Better not be.” He squeezed her butt under the water and made a small hum of appreciation when she pressed another quick kiss to the column of his throat.

“Someone’s desperate.” She teased and pushed away from him a little, making sure the water was deep enough to tread.

He raised his eyebrows. “You were asking how thin the hotel walls were earlier. I don’t think you have any room to talk.”

Sophie gave him a mischievous grin and glanced around the water, noting it was pretty sparse of a crowd. “Do you have pockets in your swim trunks?” She swam out a little further away and pulled slowly at the string tied loosely around her neck, holding up her top.

“Yeah, why -” His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as she let the bikini fall from her neck and untied the string on the back too, then swam close and handed it to him. “Here. I don’t want to lose it.”

“Sophie.” He uttered, a little strangled.

“Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” He mumbled, not taking her eyes off her for a second. “Who are you?”

She frowned, swimming back toward him and crossed her arms over her chest, losing her faith in her bold idea by the second. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this, the leather jacket, speaking a new language...” He struggled to explain it, thinking. “It’s like I’ve never seen you so confident before.”

“Oh.” She brightened, giving him a small, shy smile and a shrug. “It’s okay?”

“I love it.” He declared, giving her a grin in return. “I love seeing you like this, so sure of yourself.”

She wasn’t, not nearly at all, but his perception of her made her beam. “I’m trying.”

“You’re killing it. I’m proud of you.” Rafe held up the bikini top with a grin. “What happens if I lose this?”

Sophie fixed him with a glare. “If you lose it, I’m making you take off your shorts in solidarity. You’ll get a sunburn on your dick.”

He laughed loud, shoving her top in his pocket. “A sunburn on my dick, really? I think it’d be tan. Really complete the look.”

“No. I don’t want anyone else getting to see it.” She argued, swimming close enough to shove his shoulder lightly.

“Okay, so should you put your bikini back on?” He countered, trying his best to keep his eyes trained on hers and not anything lower.

“You just said you liked it -”

“I like your confidence, not necessarily other guys looking at you -”

“Well it’s not your boobs to decide about -”

“Alright, well it’s not your dick -” Rafe started and she raised her eyebrows, reaching down and palming him under the water. “We sure about that?”

He nearly groaned at the contact, pulling his hips back. “You cannot do that to me when you’re topless and we’re surrounded by people. You really can’t.”

“I’ll put the bikini back on before I get out of the water.” She offered, smirking at how easy he was to turn on.

“Deal. That thing you said earlier, about sex on the beach?”

“Yeah?” She cocked her head in question.

“I bet we could find a private spot…” He grinned as she rolled her eyes, almost immediately. “Oh my god, Rafe, I was just asking. If you’re that desperate I’ll fuck you before dinner -”

“Jesus Christ, Sophie, you can’t just say things like that.” He pressed his fingers to his temples and glanced up at the sky as if he was searching for an ounce of strength.

“Why not? I will. We can try the shower, it looked big enough for both of us. The bed was comfy too, though I don’t think I could get the automated curtains to close in front of the window - but hey, if you’re into that -”

“Fucking tease.” He bit out. “You’re being mean.”

“No, baby, being mean would be touching you and then not letting you finish.” She countered, trying her best to hold back a grin. “I’m never mean.”

“You are. You’re a brat sometimes.” He caught her around the waist and pulled her in, kissing her forehead. “But I love it.”

“Careful what you say, you’ll only encourage me.” She grinned and tipped her head up, catching his lips in a kiss.

______

As much as Sophie insisted they had to make the most of every minute of their vacation, she couldn’t deny that his argument of “I promise I’ll bring you back here” was compelling.

After a long afternoon out at the beach, they returned to their hotel to take a nap and get ready for dinner. His eyes widened when she stepped into the hotel lobby, finally out of the sun. “Um, Soph?”

“Yeah?” She felt a little queasy, and unreasonably hot still for being in the air conditioning.

He gently pressed his hand to her shoulder, surprised when she didn’t flinch away. “Does that hurt at all?”

“Not really. Why -” She cut herself off as she extended her arm, realizing it was on its way to turning red. “Oh my god.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Rafe reassured her quickly, but looked a little worried. “We’ll go run you a cold shower - well, maybe a bath - and you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to reapply sunscreen - didn’t I tell you to remind me?” She lamented, sighing. He shook his head and gave her a small smile of regret. “No, but we know now. We’re doing your architecture tour tomorrow anyways, you’ll have just enough time to recover for our next beach day. Promise.”

He was full of promises, she’d learned, and he always kept them. Every single time. Sophie wondered sometimes if it was his way of compensating for failed relationships, like how his dad had always promised he’d be at his next basketball game, or he’d take him out on the golf course or come up for the next parent’s weekend. She leaned against him in the elevator, realizing she felt a little faint.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby.” He murmured, setting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing a little too hard, and she winced. “Ow, Rafe.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He carefully removed his arm and took the bag from her shoulder, deciding not to comment on the angry mark it left behind from burnt skin. He was glad he’d switched them from the hostel - as much as she had wanted to fight the idea, he was right that the luxury of their own shower and bathroom was worth it.

When they got into their hotel room, he instructed her to lie down, pop some ibuprofen, and then ran her a cold bath. Her eyes widened as she saw the marks left behind as she untied her bathing suit. “Oh, fuck.”

“It’s okay! It’ll be fine. You stay here, and I’ll be back in - oh, twenty minutes. That’s all.” He nodded and kissed her forehead, letting her slip into the bath alone. He grabbed his wallet and phone before heading back downstairs, and he practically begged the front desk to buy a bottle of aloe lotion after-hours and the whole box of their complimentary black tea, then paid the janitor to give him a roll of paper towels. He made it back to the room in fifteen, knocking twice before letting himself into the room.

“Rafe?” Sophie called out, tentatively.

“Just me!” He called back, busying himself with heating up water to make the tea.

“I feel really shaky.” She confessed and he frowned, rushing into the bathroom. He placed his hand to the back of her forehead then dipped his finger in the water, nearly ice-cold as she’d turned up the temperature. “You might have sun poisoning.”

“You’re not serious?” She frowned, but grabbed onto his arm like it was difficult to sit up.

“Do you feel like you might throw up?”

“...No.” The hesitation in front of her answer was enough to tell him otherwise.

“Okay. Let’s dry you off and then we’ll see how you feel.” He held out the towel and helped her out, carefully wrapping it around her as she shivered. “S’okay, I got you. Sarah had this once, but I have a trick and you’ll be better tomorrow.”

“It’s unfair that you’re fine.” She grumbled, reaching up and pressing a finger into his muscled chest. He was a little pink, but that was all.

“I think I’ve been burnt enough that I’m used to it.” He reasoned, guiding her back into the room and had her sit down on the end of the bed while the tea was steeping in the fridge. “Can you pull on your underwear so you’re a little more comfortable?”

“Seeing me naked doesn’t do it for you anymore?” She quipped.

He rolled his eyes - if she paid more attention, she could see him half-hard in his loose shorts. “Not when you’re about to be sick.”

“Not gonna be sick.” She muttered stubbornly as she carefully pulled on a pair of underwear from her suitcase, then lied down on her stomach on the bed.

“Hope not.” Once the tea was strong enough, he pulled a decorative bowl from their nightstand table and dumped out the fake seashells, rinsed it, then poured in the tea. He started soaking paper towels in it then carefully wrung them out and laid them across her back, so they covered every inch of burnt skin.

“Where’d you learn that?” She asked, resting her head on her arms.

“My mom used to do it if we got burnt when we were little. It helps a lot.” He replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when he finished and laid next to her so she didn’t have to crane her neck up to see him. “I’ll change them when they dry.”

“You haven’t told me much about your mom.” She told him hesitantly after a moment of silence.

He shrugged. “Not much to say. What’s your mom think of all this?”

She was a little disappointed he didn’t open up more, but got the hint - and she felt like she might throw up at any second, so maybe it wasn’t the time for a serious conversation. “All this?”

“Of our trip.”

“Ah. I think she’s jealous.” She grinned teasingly at him. “Always tells me how you’re the ideal match, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Her grin faded a little. “I’m sure your dad thinks the opposite.”

“I don’t care what my dad thinks.” He told her, firmly, but all she could hear was the fact that he didn’t deny it. She nodded once. “Yeah. Okay.”

“You know, I think your dad and I really got along. When I was home, at least.” He told her a little shyly, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.

She nodded, smiling. “He likes you. Thinks you’re cool.”

Her dad had said much more than that - he’d told Sophie that Rafe was a good kid, really respectful, a hard worker and he deserved this internship. He’d also asked, with a little too much eagerness to his voice, if Rafe would like to come home with her for Labor Day weekend, when they had their first little break in school, and would he like to come golf with him and Sophie? Also, if he and her mom came up for a football game, would Rafe like to hang out with them again?

She wasn’t quite sure if Rafe was ready for the “my dad wants to be your best friend” talk so she left it at “he thinks you’re cool.”

Rafe nodded with an eager grin. “That’s cool. He’s cool too, I mean. I like hanging out with him.”

“I’m glad.” She reached out her hand for him, locking her fingers with his. “I love you.”

“I know, angel. I love you too.” He beamed, the way he always did when she told him those three simple words.

“I’m happy my family likes you.” She told him, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. “Good for our future...our future us.”

He held back a smile but gave her an amused glance. “Our future us?”

“You know what I mean.” She scowled at him and he reached out and smoothed his thumb over the bridge of her nose, making her relax. “I don’t. Will you tell me?”

“I just mean, like, in the future. After college, what we’ll look like, you know? I’m just glad my family likes having you around.” She struggled to form a complete sentence, not sure how much she wanted to tell him - that she’d thought about being married to him and living with him, and just the little domestic things of sharing the day together.

He beamed, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Future us…you mean getting married?”

She shrugged, trying to seem cool about it. “Yeah. I can see it.”

“I can see it too.” He grinned, wide. “Sophie Cameron.”

She blushed, biting her lip. “Okay, okay, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He laughed, unable to shake the bright smile on his face. “Are you feeling any better? You need water.”

“A little, yeah, I think the bath helped.”

Rafe got up and refilled her water bottle, handing it to her so she could take a few sips. “I got aloe from downstairs too, so I can help you put that on once the towels dry. I promise, your burn should basically be gone by tomorrow.”

“You’re too good to me.” She murmured, glancing up at him.

“Nah, you deserve it.” He grinned and pushed the water bottle at her again. “Do you need me to go find takeout somewhere? I don’t know if that’s a thing, but I can probably convince someone. If you’re not feeling up to going to get dinner.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine -” She pushed herself to sit up and suddenly squeezed her eyes shut as she felt a wave of nausea pass, curling into herself. He frowned and gently pressed her back down to the bed, then pulled the top layer of sheets over her where the paper towels weren’t. “I’ll go find something. Will you be okay here or do you think you might be sick? I can figure out delivery - well, maybe, I don’t speak any French -”

“Rafe. I’ll be okay, I can go.”

“No you can’t. Stay here, I’ll have my phone, call me if you feel like you might throw up and I’ll be back before you can blink.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No. You need to take care of yourself.” He set the water bottle by her side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I want that empty when I’m back.”

“Okay, Mom.” She grumbled, but made no protest. Rafe nodded and left, not without another backwards glance to make sure she’d be okay.

He returned thirty minutes later with a pizza box in hand and a bottle of rosé tucked under his arm. “Success!”

“Impressive.” Sophie was upright now, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts that she’d stolen at the beginning of the summer. The color had returned to her face - the only part she’d remembered to reapply sunscreen on - and she’d chugged a bottle and a half of her water.

“You look like you’re feeling better. Doing okay?” He set the pizza box on the bed, despite her protest, and greeted her with a gentle kiss.

“Yeah, much better. I’ll need you to put aloe on me before bed though.”

“That can be arranged.” Rafe grinned and presented her with the wine. “Look. Only the finest for m’lady.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved at him with a grin. “Europe is making you a sap.”

“Nah, I just missed out on you this summer, so I gotta lay it on thick.” He uncorked the bottle and took a swig, then passed it to her. “Drink up. Not too much though, you’re still dehydrated.”

“How much was it?” She took a careful sip, then nodded, impressed.

“Only about fifteen euros.”

Sophie flicked open the pizza box and inhaled, grinning. “Excellent choice.” After a couple seconds on her phone, Rafe got a notification on his from Venmo. She’d sent him half for their dinner, like they’d talked about long before he was even in Europe.

“Soph.” He frowned. “What the fuck is this.”

She picked up a slice and raised her eyebrows, speaking around a mouthful of food. “Huh?”

“Trying to pay me for half?”

She swallowed and shrugged. “Yes, that’s what we agreed on, months ago.” (They hadn’t agreed, not in the slightest. She’d insisted she was paying for her own everything, he’d immediately said no, and the debate lasted about five minutes before she was taking her top off to end the conversation. She’d called him with other ideas in mind, anyways.)

“We didn’t agree, we left the argument unfinished because you were trying to distract me by getting naked on FaceTime.”

She smirked. “Yeah, and it worked, didn’t it?”

It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t kidding, that he was actually a little upset. “Sophie. I’m serious. I said I wanted to cover meals on this trip.”

She bristled, setting her pizza down. “And I said I wanted to split it. I’ve saved up for this, Rafe, let it go.”

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for you.” Despite his annoyance, he took a seat next to her on the bed and pressed his thigh to hers, always needing to be close.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand.” She muttered, not making eye contact.

“So explain it to me.”

She took a deep breath, knowing they were venturing into dangerous territory. “I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting. Just having a conversation.” He retorted back, with a little too much of an edge to it.

She hummed in affirmation, though she looked skeptical. “I’ve worked my ass off for this entire summer since I was eighteen. My freshman year, one time, I was about to break my budget just by buying a pack of Oreos at the store. So the fact that I’m even able to pay for this extra trip after my study abroad scholarship means a lot to me.”

“I know you work hard, I’m not discrediting that at all. I just -“ He let out a frustrated huff. “I don’t know why you won’t let me take care of you.”

“First off, I can take care of myself -”

“I know that, but I can still help you -”

She sent him a pointed look and he took a breath, letting her talk. “You just took care of me, with my sunburn and getting me dinner. That’s more than enough. I don’t need - or want - financial help.”

He mulled it over for a second, frowning. “But I have the money, Sophie, just let me help so you don’t have to stress.”

“I don��t want your dad’s money!”

A short silence hung in the air between them as they stared at each other, both a little in shock at her outburst. She blushed a little, embarrassed. “Rafe, I…”

“It’s a trust from both my parents that I just got when I turned 21. Does that make a difference?” He asked evenly, trying to keep calm.

“Not really.” She murmured, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.”

“So the problem is my dad.”

Sophie grabbed the bottle of wine and took a sip, then handed it to him. “Is that really a surprise to you?”

He took a considerably large swig, then passed it back. “No. I’ve tried, you know that?”

She went to re-cork the bottle and he stopped her, taking the bottle back but handed over her water bottle. She gave him a grateful smile and took a few drinks, then nodded. “Yeah. I know you’ve tried, I saw how you tried at your Christmas party.”

“It’s just.” He leaned into her side, frowning. “He’s insistent that this is a fling, he forgets your name on purpose, he keeps talking about when I’m with someone more suitable and when I’m taking over the family business -" Rafe felt his throat getting tight and his voice growing shaky as he got more and more frustrated. “All I want is you. He doesn’t care that you make me happy.”

As much as she didn’t want to hear all of that, she knew it all already. “Hey, shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, combing her fingers through her hair. “I know you’re trying your best with him. He’s just not willing to listen.”

“I’m not going to let you go just so I can make him satisfied.” He was fully cuddled into her now, his hand wrapped protectively around her thigh and his head on her hip. “I’m not trying to pay for things to show off, you know -“

“I know, I know.” She affirmed, stroking her hand down his back. “I never thought that.”

He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment in bliss as she rubbed his back, then flipped onto his back to look up at her. “I’m just thinking, when we live together -“

She nearly choked on her water bottle and set it down, raising her eyebrows. “When?”

“I mean… yeah. I have that job offer with my internship for after graduation and you’re staying in Columbus for grad school, I kind of just assumed…” He trailed off, offering her a cheeky grin.

Sophie paused, considering. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Oh. You haven’t?”

“No, I, um.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I kinda thought you were going to work for your dad and we’d have to do long distance again. I mean, you’d just always said that was the plan…”

“Right, that was the plan, but then you told me to try for the internship and I really liked it. Apart from, well, y’know.” He smiled up at her. “I actually think I could do more.”

She smiled back, proud. “Of course you can. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind. You want to live together?”

“Course I do. Don’t you?” He heard her stomach rumble and grinned. “Sorry to interrupt dinner. Hungry?”

“S’okay. I’m kind of starving, though, can we eat and talk?”

He nodded, sitting up and took a slice from the box. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She took her own half-eaten slice, taking a bite before responding. “I think I’d like to live together, yeah. It makes sense.” She paused, scowling. “My mom might kill me, but I bet my dad could convince her.”

“Your mom doesn’t like me?”

“No! No, not that.” Sophie excused quickly. “She likes you, a lot, but she grew up with super strict parents and I think she thinks we’re in separate beds this whole trip.” She smirked, nudging her knee against his. “It’s scandalous.”

“Oh, right.” He nodded, already going for another piece of pizza. “So...would we need to stick to your budget or mine?”

“We can split rent, something reasonable. When I get my real job, I’ll have a decent amount of money, just. Being a TA doesn’t pay too much. My parents help me a little with rent at school.” She considered. “If we need a little more for a better place, I can pick up another job or something.”

Rafe frowned, elbowing her. “I’m not going to make you work overtime when I can help us out.”

“We’ll come to that when we need to start looking for places in spring.” She dismissed and he grinned, glad she was fully on board. “Sounds good to me.”

“Baby?”

He beamed, loving the pet name. “Yeah, angel?”

“I don’t know if I want to know this, but. Do you know, roughly, how much you have in the trust?” She bit the inside of her cheek, hesitant.

He paused, mulling over his answer before responding. “Um, let’s put it this way. I could get away with not having a job.”

“Like...for a few years?”

“Um. No.”

“Oh.” She mumbled. “So you could get away with not having a job...ever.”

He nodded, offering her the wine bottle. “Yeah. But that’s why I’d like to spend a little bit more on you sometimes, because I will have a job. Obviously some of it is invested, and I’ll set aside a college fund for my kids eventually, but. I like treating you to things.”

She took a long swig from the bottle, grimacing after. “I know you do - fuck, that’s getting to me.”

Rafe laughed, taking it back. “I can tell, your face is getting a little red.”

“Shut up, is not.”

“Is too. C’mon, eat one more slice at least and then I’ll put the aloe on you, crispy.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, taking her third slice of pizza. “You gonna give me a massage?”

“Depends, do I get one too?”

“Only if yours is good enough.” She teased, kicking at him.

“Does mine come with a happy ending?” He grinned, laughing when she flipped him off. “I think if you touched my shoulders they might peel off completely.”

“Your mouth would be sufficient,” he quipped under his breath and she rolled her eyes, tossing her crust in the box and tossed the empty box toward the trash can on the floor. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re more.”

“Jerkface.”

He grinned. “Hot stuff.”

“Slam piece.”

“Smokeshow.”

“Sugar tits.” She giggled when his jaw dropped in protest. “I don’t even have -”

“Yes you do! You have a great rack. It’s hot, don’t worry.” She assured him, poking at his chest.

“Take off your shirt.” He reached over, tugging at the hem of it.

She rolled her eyes. “Rafe, I am not comparing the size of our -”

“No, dummy, I have to put on the aloe.” He rolled his eyes and held up the bottle. “Calling me a slam piece, honestly. You’re a brat.”

Sophie grinned and pulled off her shirt, trying to go slowly and be seductive but winced when it hurt to raise her arms. “Ow! Fuck, help.”

“Yeah, that’s what you get.” He teased, but smacked a kiss to her forehead anyways before helping her wrestle off her shirt. “You don’t feel sick, right?” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, then got behind her to smooth the cool lotion over her shoulders.

“No, I feel way better.”

“Good.” He grinned, nudging his nose against her cheek. “Hey. Guess what.”

“Mm.” She tilted her head back, trying to catch his lips.

“You’re my favorite.” He slid his hands down her arms, then tapped his finger against her ring. “Don’t forget it.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #obx #outer banks #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine #frat rafe #college rafe

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buckywilsonbarnes · 3 years

Text

Coping Mechanism

I wasn’t originally planning on posting this here, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out actually. So here’s a short ficlet of Sam and Bucky, doing what they do best. 😍

Sam x Bucky (1.5K)

(Rated T, and no applicable warnings apply other than for TFATWS spoilers, since this is directly connected to the second episode.)

Note: this is set right after they agree to go find Zemo together. It’s just a short idea that popped into my head, so I ran with it. :)

~*~

"Steve wasn't wrong about you," Bucky says after a few minutes of companionable silence. "I didn't mean that, and I'm sorry," he pauses as he reaches out to stop Sam from going any further. "I really am. I'm sorry, Sam." For added measure, he places a tentative hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezes it gently.

"Oh, are we rhyming now?" Sam smirks as he turns to face Bucky. "Do you like green eggs and ham? Do you eat them on a boat? Do you eat them with a goat? Well, yeah, you probably would, actually," he laughs.

"I should have known you'd be a jackass about this," Bucky mutters as he rolls his eyes and strides forward. "My mistake."

"We really need to work on your sense of humor," Sam says as he breaks into a light jog so he can catch up.

"Not everything is a goddamn joke, Sam," Bucky snaps while whipping around to face Sam and gesturing wildly around them. "Do you honestly find anything funny about all of this? Because I sure as hell don't."

"No," Sam agrees easily, "but I do like pushing your buttons," he admits as he digs his fingers into Bucky's side.

"Hey!" Bucky yelps as he quickly shoves Sam's hand away. "Can you not? Jesus Christ!"

"Oh my God," Sam stops dead in his tracks, delighted smile breaking out across his face. "Are you ticklish?"

"No," Bucky glares, "I just don't want your grubby hands all over me."

"Or," Sam murmurs as he steps closer and drags Bucky forward by the lapels of his jacket, "maybe that's exactly what you want."

"Oh, you think so?" Bucky counters as he glances down at Sam's hands which are still tightly gripping his jacket. "Maybe that's what you want, pal."

"Whatever," Sam says as he quickly lets go. They are on a public street after all, even though no one seems to be paying them any attention. "This is nice, by the way," he adds, while carefully smoothing out the creases he's made in Bucky's jacket. "It looks good on you."

"Thanks," Bucky mumbles as he stands there awkwardly, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

"So, we're off to find Zemo then?" Sam asks. There's an icy edge to his voice that rubs Bucky the wrong way as Sam turns his back on him and keeps walking.

Yeah, I guess so," Bucky agrees as he tries to work out what the hell just happened. Sam seems pissed off all of a sudden, which makes no sense since he wasn't the one who was just practically groped in public.

"Are we not gonna talk about whatever the hell that just was?" Bucky asks as they fall into step alongside each other.

"That was nothing," Sam says, punctuated by a dismissive wave of his hand. "Nothing at all."

Bucky stops walking again as he grips Sam by the elbow and spins him around.

"That was not nothing, Sam. You know what, I don't get you at all. First, I tried apologizing to you, which you turned into a joke of course," he sneers. "Then what? Was that some sort of twisted attempt at flirting?"

"You wish," Sam scoffs. "If I was flirting with you, you wouldn't have to ask. You'd know, pal."

"Why are you so pissed at me?" Bucky asks, looking sad and confused as he releases Sam's arm. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't have all the answers, but I'm hoping we can figure this shit out together. Everything fucking sucks right now, Sam," he chokes out, voice trembling.

"Hey," Sam says softly as he steers Bucky into an empty alley. They probably shouldn't be having this conversation right now, much less where practically anyone can hear them. "I'm not pissed at you, I promise."

"Then what the hell is going on? I'm trying here, Sam. I really am. And if you make another Dr. Seuss joke, I'm going to punch you in the face with my vibranium arm."

"Something you need to know about me," Sam explains, "is that I often resort to humor as a coping mechanism. I know you've never heard of it before," he adds, which actually causes Bucky to crack a smile, "but it really gets me through serious shit, sometimes. It doesn't mean that I think anything about what we're going through is funny, it just helps me deal, that's all."

"I get that," Bucky nods. "Once upon a time, I actually did have a sense of humor, believe it or not."

"Oh yeah? What happened to it?" Sam asks.

"HYDRA cut it off," Bucky fake-pouts. "Turns out, it was in my left arm all along."

"You're a damn fool," Sam laughs as he pitches forward and buries his face against Bucky's shoulder.

"See, I can be funny too," Bucky grins as he reaches out with gentle fingers and tilts Sam's face up.

"Yeah, funny looking," Sam teases as he surges forward and boldly presses his lips against Bucky's.

"Seriously?" Bucky says when Sam pulls back. "You kiss me and insult me at the same time?"

"What can I say, I'm a man of many talents," Sam winks. "Oh, and that was flirting, by the way."

"What you are, is a royal pain in my ass and I wish I didn't like you so much," Bucky admits as he hooks his thumbs into Sam's belt loops and drags him forward.

"Yeah, I wish I didn't like you either," Sam agrees. "Guess we're in the same boat, then."

"Guess we are," Bucky shrugs as he cups Sam's jaw and kisses him softly. Sam opens up for him this time, the kiss deepening quickly as Bucky's hands drop down to Sam's waist to hold him steady.

"So, um," Sam says when they break apart, "I might kinda like you a lot, actually. More than I ever expected to, that's for damn sure. I realized it a while ago, and I guess I've just been fighting it," he adds.

"Mood," Bucky nods. "Wait, did I use that right?"

"Sort of," Sam smirks and kisses him again. "Don't try to be cool, okay? Stop looking shit up on the internet, and just be yourself."

"I feel like there's an insult in there somewhere," Bucky pouts, for real this time as he wraps his arms around Sam's neck.

"There's not, I promise," Sam smiles. "And just for the record, Steve wasn't wrong about you either."

"I'm not so sure about that," Bucky frowns, "but I appreciate the sentiment."

"He wasn't," Sam insists. "None of what happened to you was your fault, Buck. Bad shit happens to good people every single day, we both know that. We live in a fucked up world, baby. That's just how it is, sometimes."

"Thank you," Bucky smiles as he reaches up and rubs Sam's cheek. "It's still a struggle for me, especially with all of the amends I've been making. It's like, just when I was trying to put it all behind me - "

"It comes right back to haunt you," Sam nods. "Yeah, I know exactly what that's like."

"Jesus, we're a pair, aren't we?" Bucky laughs. "I wish Steve could see us now."

"Me too," Sam agrees. "He'd probably never believe it."

"On the contrary," Bucky says, "I think he would. Remember how he used to bitch at us every time we argued with each other?"

"Yeah," Sam says fondly. "He said we fought just like an old married couple."

"We still do," Bucky points out. "So how about it, sweetheart? You wanna put a ring on it?" he asks, as he wiggles his vibranium fingers in front of Sam's face.

"There are lots of things I want to do with you," Sam leers as he reaches down and gives Bucky's hips a squeeze. "Although, we should at least go on an actual date first before we start planning our marriage."

"Probably," Bucky agrees. "I like sushi," he suggests as he sways forward and captures Sam's lips in another kiss.

"Raw fish? Of course you do," Sam sighs. "You couldn't like anything normal, right?"

"You're thinking of sashimi," Bucky corrects. "Not all sushi is raw, and in fact, a lot of it is cooked, actually."

"What I’m hearing is: blah blah, raw fish, you're a nerd, blah blah," Sam mocks. "If you want real seafood, you should come down to Louisiana with me, sometime. My sister Sarah makes a mean fish fry."

"Aw, you wanna bring me home to meet your family already?" Bucky winks.

"Yeah," Sam nods. "They'd love you. Especially my nephews, they'd be pretty fascinated by your robo arm."

"Let's do it then," Bucky grins. "After we sort out all of our current bullshit, of course. Do you think your sister would mind?"

"Nah," Sam shakes his head. "She'll put you to work, though. Unloading boats, scrubbing the docks, cleaning fish, falling for her brother, that sort of thing, so be prepared."

"Wait, what was that last part?" Bucky teases.

"Cleaning the fish," Sam wrinkles his nose. "It's a nasty job, but Sarah's fried catfish is totally worth it."

"Falling for her brother, huh?" Bucky interjects as he leans in close and nudges his nose against Sam's.

"Well," Sam pauses to steal a quick kiss, "if you get around to it. I know you'll be pretty busy and all."

"We can cross that one off the list, actually," Bucky smiles as he reaches for Sam's hand and laces their fingers together. "I'm already working on it."

~*~

#Sambucky #Winterfalcon #my writing #TFATWS #TFATWS spoilers #I have a few other WIPs that I might eventually post too #still working on those #but I couldn't get this random idea out of my head #so I had to write it #hopefully it's not terrible #I like how it turned out #even if I keep finding things I wish I had added #or changed

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hayleysstark · 3 years

Note

I always wondered what would have happened if Merlin hadn't ducked the chair in the tavern brawl (S3 ep 4-Gwaine). A sort of delayed response like in more severe concussions. Maybe a coma or some of the other serious side effects. I'm excited to read your work.

Thank you

okay okay i would like to preface this by saying i have been fortunate enough that i’ve never experienced a delayed concussion, and all that comes with it, so this is probably not 100% medically accurate, but consider, Merlin has magic and if we can believe in magic, we can believe this is how delayed concussions work. okay?? okay. thank you.

"What happened to your head?" Arthur asks, on the way back to Camelot, with Gwaine—passed out cold, probably still drunk, and absolutely dead to the entire world with the knife lodged firmly in his thigh—slung over his saddle. "Looks like you took a bad blow back there."

"I didn't," Merlin waves him off. It would be a lie to say the impact didn't rattle him a bit, but he's sure he'll be all right when he's had some sleep—his magic usually heals his everyday bumps and bruises in the night, and there's no reason to think it would let him down now. "I'm fine. I got lucky, he only just clipped me."

Or, well, he supposes the man only just clipped him, because he has to suppose that, because supposing is all he can really do about it, because—if he's being completely and wholly honest with himself here—he doesn't know for sure. He doesn't know what the chair did. He doesn't even know what the man with the chair did. All he knows is the moment right before—a real big muscly fellow, as Gwen would call him, with long, scraggly blond hair hanging limp and greasy around his filthy, sneering face, clutching a truly enormous wooden chair in his massive, meaty hands, and his mean, dark eyes narrowed, and locked firmly on Merlin—but that's it, that's all, that's where it cuts out, that's where it fades to black, in that tiny handful of seconds between one heartbeat and the next.

He didn't pass out.

And he knows he didn't pass out.

But he opened his eyes, and he was on the floor, with the chair some ten feet away, tipped over on its side, one of the thick legs snapped off in a shower of sharp splinters, and that's all he knows, that's all he remembers.

"Well, it is bad form to hit a girl, you know," Arthur tosses a quick, smug glance back over his shoulder, but the minute his eyes fall on Merlin, his face does a funny little spasm, and the smirk slides off his lips like water. "Merlin, you're bleeding."

Merlin hastily rubs away the wet, warm, bright red trail streaking down his temple with the edge of his jacket sleeve, until the blood smears into a dull brown stain on the thin cloth. "I'm fine. He just scraped me when he—" I suppose he just scraped me, but if he says it like that, Arthur will ask, and he's sure it'll come back to him, he's sure he'll remember, there's no need to fuss about it right now, "—head wounds bleed a lot," he says, instead, a little too quickly. "It's normal. Gaius told me."

"Gaius said that?" Arthur's wrinkled brow smooths back out. "Oh, that's all right, then." He pokes lightly at Gwaine's limp frame, sprawled slackly out in the saddle in front of him, and adds, "Reckon he'll have his hands full with this bloke, anyway."

"Yeah," Merlin nods, "I reckon he will."

As it turns out, Gaius does have his hands full with Gwaine, and Merlin feels fine, so he just doesn't bother to bring it up with the old man at all.

When he finally scrubs off the last of the dried, sticky blood still clinging to the side of his head in dark streaks, he sees the scrape runs far deeper than he thought—less of a scrape, and more of a cut, but it's fine, it's nothing, it will probably be scabbed over and well on its way to healing up in the morning—one of the many benefits of magic—so he rinses the red stains out of the clean white rags he used, and he goes to bed, and he thinks no more about it.

From the minute Merlin opens his eyes, he knows something's wrong.

The world feels wrong—uneven and off-center, like the earth's off its axis, and when he stands up, he feels almost lopsided, like a little girl's doll, too limp and loose to hold himself up, but that's nothing to the way the chamber spins and spins and spins around him, like a child's top. The cut hasn't scabbed over, and he's got what has to be the worst headache he's ever had in his entire life, with a dark, furious bruise on his brow, purple and swollen and painful.

But he hasn't got the time to wait around here for Gaius and tell him about it—he's got far too much to do today to bite his nails over a headache of all things—and anyway, his magic has never let him down before, so he's sure he'll be fine in an hour or so, it's probably just taking a bit longer because, well, a chair clipped him 'round the head, it's not so simple as a bad fall or a brutal spar with Arthur.

He doesn't bother with breakfast—he feels a bit sick, honestly—but he does take a plate up for Gwaine and check the man's leg while he's at it (one less thing for Gaius to worry about when he gets back) before he heads down to Arthur's chambers.

"You're bruised," Arthur says, the minute Merlin walks in the door, like he thinks maybe Merlin hasn't got a mirror, or a pair of eyes in his head.

"You take a hit like that to the face and see how you look," Merlin fires back, and that's the end of that.

Merlin thinks, maybe, it was a mistake to not talk to Gaius.

Merlin thinks, maybe, it was a mistake to come in to work at all today.

The everyday noise of the castle is just such a nightmare—the quiet chatter of the busy servants going about their work, the boisterous prattle of the bored guards stuck at their stations, the click and thud of high heels and heavy boots on cold marble floors and hard stone stairs, the soft clinks of the dishes down in the kitchens, it all makes his head pound like a drum, until it feels like his brain might burst with it—but the courtyard is nothing short of murder.

The sun stabs into his skull like a knife, even when he shuts his eyes and turns his head, but it's the sound that really does him in. The snorts and whines of the horses fresh from a hard ride, the clank and clang of swords and shields, the groan and grunt of the water pump as a thin, nervous maid fills up her bucket, the shouts and hollers of the knights and squires out on the training grounds.

It's all so loud, and it's all so much, and he can hardly think past the sharp shocks of pain up and down his brow, and maybe he should just tell Arthur—he knows Arthur will be fair about it, he knows Arthur is a good man, he knows Arthur will give him a few hours off to see Gaius, he knows it, but the melee is only a few days off, and Arthur needs a servant to see to him while it's going on, and it'll all go a lot smoother for him if he's got his servant, who already knows everything, his schedule and his preferences and his quirks, seeing to him until it's over.

Where Arthur strolls down the wide stone steps to say hello to Sir Oswald, Merlin stumbles—his legs feel funny, shaky and weak, and he's sure he'll trip over and fall flat on his face any moment now (and won't Arthur love that) but he makes it all the way to the ground without a single nosedive.

"—my servant, Merlin," Arthur claps a hand on Merlin's shoulder—

—and he has to bite his bottom lip to hold in a gasp, because it jostles his neck, sore and tender from where his head snapped back when the chair hit him and that—

—that—

—that can't be right, can it?

No, no, that simply can't be right, because the chair only clipped him, remember, because he was all right on the ride back to Camelot—a little dazed and a little dizzy, sure, but who wouldn't be after a blow like that?—and he was all right that night, too, nothing but the slight sting when he cleaned the cut, when the edges of the broken skin stretched with the scrub of the cloth over it. No, no, he's all right, he's fine, it didn't hit him in the face, it did not hit him full in the face, because his head would hurt a lot more if it had.

It clipped the side of his head a bit hard, that's all.

"—loves hard work," Arthur says, with another painful clap on Merlin's shoulder, and he bites back a wince this time, "so, anything you need, just give him a call."

"Believe me," Sir Oswald says seriously, "I will."

Sir Oswald is as bad as his word.

Merlin's ears ring louder than the biggest bells in the Camelot cathedral, and it feels he's got a blunt sword stuck in his skull, and he's shaking all over, dripping with sweat and shuddering with cold, and little white stars pop and pop and pop before his tired eyes, but he stays on his feet, and he finally shoulders the door open.

He hauls the heavy trunk inside.

"What took you so long?" Sir Oswald, leaning elegantly back in his chair, his dirty boots up on the table, pops a blueberry in his mouth.

"What?" Merlin rasps, because it takes him a second to really hear it, takes a second for the words to make sense to him. Everything is taking a second to make sense to him today. "It—it weighs a ton," he points out, rather fairly, in his opinion.

Sir Oswald stares coldly back at him.

"The stairs," he adds quickly, because he knows what it means when a knight looks at him like that, he knows it means if he doesn't come up with a damn good excuse, he'll be in the stocks—or in the dungeons, or tied to a whipping post—faster than he can blink. "It's seven flights." He's so exhausted, it might as well have been a thousand.

"That's very kind of you," Sir Ethan smiles at him, almost kind, so he musters up a small, tired grin of his own before he pushes himself back up on his feet—the room spins and spins and spins, like Gaius' chambers, around him, and he thinks he might really be sick, here on Sir Oswald's pristine floor—

"—but you can't leave it there."

Merlin turns—the room spins and spins and spins like Gaius' chambers, like a child's top, and his stomach churns and his head hurts. "I-I can't?" he says, uncertainly, mostly to make sure he's heard right, because everything sounds different with the funny ringing in his ears, because everything is taking a second to make sense to him lately, because the world is wrong, because the world is uneven and off-center, because the earth is off its axis.

"It's in the way," Sir Oswald jerks his chin at the trunk—which is, admittedly, very much in the way.

"Okay," Merlin nods, but it hurts, and he has to stop. "Where do you want it?"

For the first time all day, Merlin doesn't feel sick, so when he gets home, he downs an entire bowl of soup, and he thinks, maybe, he should wait for Gaius to get back, so he can tell him about his head, about how awful he feels, but he hasn't even rinsed his bowl before the door swings open, and Gwen peers inside.

"Merlin," she says, seriously, "I think you need to come with me."

Merlin follows Gwen all the way down to the tavern, where he finds Gwaine in a stupor, with a tab longer than his own leg, and a red-faced, furious barkeep.

He drags a very drunk Gwaine back home and gets him settled safely in bed where he can't hurt himself (or drink anymore) before he goes back downstairs, to a dark and empty room, and vomits up that bowl of soup.

"S-Sorry," Merlin rasps out, the next morning, as he comes into Arthur's bedchamber and puts his breakfast down—even the light little thud of the plate on the desktop makes his head ache, and he doesn't think he'll ever remember what it's like to not be dizzy ever again. "I-I know I'm late."

"Not at all," Arthur says easily.

"Um," Merlin says, blankly. Is he not late? He certainly feels late. But Arthur's not looking at him like he's late, so that must mean— "Good." He takes a small step back—his skull screams at the sudden move, but his skull screams about everything lately—and turns away to make Arthur's bed.

"You're not sick?" Arthur says, all of a sudden, out of the blue. "Unsteady? About to burst into song?"

Merlin thinks this must be one of Arthur's jokes (like how he says shut up, Merlin at least a hundred times a day, but God knows he'll get all huffy and pouty and moody if Merlin ever actually does shut up) so he doesn't say, yes, my head hurts so badly I can barely think straight anymore, and I think that chair might have hit me harder than I realized. He only pulls the blankets up higher and tucks in the edges and says, "No, why?"

Arthur snatches up a sheet of parchment off his desk, shakes it out with a soft rustle, and reads off, so loudly it makes Merlin's skull scream again, "Fourteen quarts of mead—"

Oh. Merlin's stomach drops. Oh, so that's what this is about.

"—three flagons of wine," Arthur drones on, relentless, "five quarts of cider—"

Merlin comes 'round the bed, head ducked down so the light won't hit his eyes. "I—I can explain," he says, weakly.

"—four dozen pickled eggs," Arthur never looks up from the paper in his hands, but he raises his voice even more, and Merlin has to wait until the pain—so sharp he sees the white stars again—dulls down enough to let him talk.

"That was Gwaine," he says finally, and a little shakily. "He went to the tavern, and he couldn't pay for it."

"So you said I would," Arthur says, in a huffy sort of tone that leaves no doubt as to his opinion on this decision.

"You know, if I hadn't," Merlin says, quickly, but he can already tell Arthur is well past listening, "th-that innkeeper, he would have strung us both up."

"I fail to see the downside," Arthur says harshly—which feels, just now, tremendously unfair, so Merlin fires back with the first thing he can think of.

"You said he should be given anything he needs."

"Four dozen pickled eggs?" Arthur wails, incredulously.

Merlin squeezes his eyes shut and swallows back a wince. "I'm sorry," he says and, before he can stop himself, before he can really think about it, before he can tell himself to shut up, to have some sense, to stop making absurd and impulsive promises he knows he can't possibly keep, he adds, "I'll pay for it."

Arthur sits up in his chair and flings the paper back down on the desk with another soft rustle. "You most certainly will."

Well, on the bright side, Merlin has to admit, it could be far worse than a few hundred pairs of filthy boots.

Gwaine disagrees. "Arthur is a thoroughbred little braggart."

Merlin has to swallow back a laugh—if only his head didn't hurt so much, he's sure he wouldn't mind the work at all, now he's got Gwaine here to crack his usual jokes. "Why?"

Gwaine peers down at the boot in his lap like he thinks the tough, cracked leather will tell him what he's supposed to do with it. Hasn't he ever cleaned his own boots? "For making us do this."

Merlin shrugs—it's easy work, even if it is, admittedly, a touch tedious, certainly repetitive, and hopelessly mundane, and it's a far lighter load than he expected in the face of Arthur's fury this morning. "I think it's fair."

Gwaine throws him an incredulous look and jabs a finger at the endless line of grimy boots stretched out ahead of them. "For the entire army?"

Merlin clicks his tongue. "If you admitted your father was a knight, you wouldn't have to."

Gwaine tosses his head to get his shaggy hair out of his eyes. "Maybe," he concedes with a little huff, "but I'm not making the same mistakes that he did." He runs the brush lightly over the boot—oh, so he does know how to do it, and thank God, Merlin thought he really might have to teach the poor man—and a bit of dried mud crumbles off and floats down to the wood floor below.

Merlin turns back to his own work without a word—he's not going to push it—and the quiet swish of the soft brush on the dirty leather is a faint but familiar music to his ears.

"How's your head?" Gwaine asks, finally, with a quick glance over at Merlin. "Looks pretty bad to me."

"It's fine," Merlin says, and he's not sure what shuts him up, what holds him back, what makes him say it's fine when he's almost certain he's never felt less fine in his life, but there's simply nothing else for it—he has to be here for Arthur until the melee is over, so there's no point in whining or moaning about it when he's got no choice but to grit his teeth and get on with it, anyway. "I'm fine."

Merlin isn't sure what makes him pull back the red silken cloth on the table—he's only here to take the dinner plates back to the kitchens—but he pulls back the cloth, and the glint of the swords beneath fascinates him, in a way swords have never fascinated him before. The cold gleam of steel is murder on his throbbing head, but it's like he can't look away, and before he knows it, he's picked them up, the hilts cool and heavy in his hands, and he stares and he stares and he stares.

He's not sure what's wrong with him. It feels like his mind is moving too slowly, all of a sudden, like a hand has ripped his skull open, and poured thick, sticky syrup inside, gumming up his brain until he can't think straight, until he can hardly think at all, and it takes him far too long to remember he's only here to pick up the dirty plates, he shouldn't be playing with the swords, he has to put them down and get on with it and—

—and the blunt blade slips, and cuts him, much deeper than a blunt blade should.

He stares at the blood on the tip of his finger, bright and thick and red—

"What are you doing with that, boy?"

He whirls around—he knows he shouldn't, he knows it will only make his head hurt, and it makes him look guilty besides, like he's doing something he shouldn't, like he's doing something he knows he shouldn't— "Uh," the sword slips from his slack fingers, and he presses his bleeding hand, on reflex, into his chest, so the knights can't see the cut, but—but why's it is so important that the knights can't see—? "I-I was just tidying—"

"Keep away from things that don't concern you," Sir Oswald snaps, sharp and cold as the sword at Merlin's feet, and his eyes like ice as he glares, and for the first time since he met the man, Merlin feels the tiniest thrill of fear.

He gathers up the plates, and he leaves, and he's much happier than he should be, to get away from Sir Oswald.

Merlin tells Gaius about the sword.

It takes him the entire walk down to the kitchens, and the entire walk back to his chamber, to work out what the knights want with blunted-sharp blades, and that feels unbelievably, embarrassingly long, and he's sure if this horrible headache would just go away, he could think much clearer, he's sure if he could just stop stumbling and tripping, if the world would stop tilting, if those white stars would stop popping—

So Merlin tells Gaius about the sword—or, he means to tell Gaius about the sword, but the minute the old man sees him, he lets out a little gasp, steers him over to the nearest cot, and pushes him down onto it, and Merlin is far too tired to fight him on it.

"What happened to your head?" Gaius demands at once.

Oh. Oh, that's right, isn't it, Gaius hasn't seen him in days—the old man is always out when he gets home at night, and he's just too tired lately to wait up the way he usually does. He rubs lightly at his temple, where the pain burns hottest, with a little wince, before he forces himself to shake his head, to shove it down. "It's nothing," he says, and he tries to sound firm about it, too, but his voice sounds slow and slurred and small in his ears, "it's nothing, I'm fine—listen, I was in Sir Oswald's chambers just now, and I—"

"Merlin," Gaius says sharply, "what's happened to your head?"

"Yeah, I'm no physician," Gwaine tosses out, from his spot on the bottommost step in the dark, narrow stairway, "but you really don't look so good, mate, you should get yourself checked over."

Merlin throws him a glare.

Gwaine stares back, entirely unrepentant.

Gaius raises his brow.

"Okay, fine, I-I hit my head," Merlin concedes, because he knows he can steer the talk back around to the sword much quicker if he gives a bit of ground here, "in that fight in the tavern, but it's not important, it doesn't matter—I have something to tell—"

"The fight in the tavern?" Gaius echoes, like he hasn't heard about that already, like Merlin and Arthur didn't fill him in when they brought Gwaine to him, except they did. "Merlin, that was days ago!"

"It's fine," Merlin says, again, except he sounds worse than ever, weak and wavery, and he balls his hands up in fists on his knees so Gaius won't see he's shaking, "it's not a big deal, it doesn't matter, it'll heal up soon, I'm sure the chair didn't even hit me that—"

"The chair?" Gaius' brow has never jumped so high so fast.

"The chair?" Gwaine squawks and leaps up off the stairs.

Merlin realizes far too late that he's said far too much. "It doesn't matter, it was just—" he shakes his head, "—some madman chucked a chair at me, all right, but some other madman is going to—"

"A chair?" Gaius says, again, his pale eyes very wide. "Merlin, you could have died from a blow like that! Why didn't you come to me and—?"

"Please, Gaius!" Merlin blinks against the sudden burn of furious tears behind his eyes. "Please, listen to me, this is important. Sir Oswald's using a trick sword! He means to murder Arthur in the melee!"

And Merlin has never, ever been more grateful for the old man in his entire life, because Gaius listens. He sits up, a bit straighter, on his stool, and he drops his withered white hand back into his lap—out of the corner of his eye, Merlin can see Gwaine edging a bit nearer—

"All right," Gaius says at last. "All right, Merlin. Tell me everything. But let me have a look at your head while you're here."

Oh, thank God. Merlin drags in a shaky little breath of relief, and hastily gabbles it all out as quickly as he can. "H-He's got a sword in his chambers, and to the eye, it appeared—" it takes him too long to come up with the word, because thinking too hard makes his head pound, "—blunt—but when I touched it…" he holds up his bleeding finger for Gaius to see.

The old man clicks his tongue. Like it's Merlin's fault he thought a blunt sword wouldn't cut him.

"Trick sword?" Gwaine frowns. "Then you were lucky it was just your hand. I've seen those blades in action. They're forged using sorcery."

Gaius lets go of Merlin's hand and stands up to prod at his bruised head again instead. "But what would they want with such a blade?"

"To kill Arthur," Merlin says, because it's obvious, now that he's finally realized it. "In the melee."

"But in front of all those people?" Gaius says, doubtfully, his brows pinched, and he presses his finger lightly to Merlin's temple.

"—perfect cover—" Gwaine's voice, quiet and loud and quiet again, rings suddenly through the room, "—nobody will suspect—"

"I-I need to warn Arthur," Merlin pulls back from Gaius' touch with a little wince, and hegets up, but he is so dizzy, and so tired, that the minute he's on his feet, he crashes right back down to the cot in mere moments.

"Not so fast, Merlin," Gaius says grimly, like Merlin was making any great leaps and bounds to the door, "—bad shape—no fit state to—"

"—I-I've got to!" Merlin tries to stand up again, but it's so hard, and his head feels so heavy— "—I've got to—I've got to tell Arthur—"

"Sir Oswald's a knight—from a well-respected family—" Gaius says, "—good friend to Arthur—can't accuse him without proof—"

"—then—" a sudden shock of pain pulses through his head, and Merlin rubs at his brow, "—then I need to—to get the sword from Sir Oswald—"

"No, Merlin, absolutely not—completely ridiculous—no fit state, as I said—a chair to the head, and you still—foolish boy—" Gaius' voice goes quiet and loud and quiet again, too, like Merlin's slipping in and out of deep, dark water, over and under the rolling black tide of pain.

"I'll get it," Gwaine says, suddenly. "I'll get it, Gaius."

And the last thing Merlin hears—before the stars flare up in front of his eyes again, big bright bursts, radiant and blinding and almost beautiful, before he slumps down sideways onto the cot, and passes out—is the quiet creak of Gaius' door, and the thud of Gwaine's boots as he leaves the room.

Merlin wakes up slowly.

The room is dark. The windows are shut, the curtains pulled tight over the dirty glass, and the candles on the table burn low.

It's cold. Gaius has taken his jacket from him while he slept—he can see the rough brown cloth flung over the back of the nearest chair—and his shirt is wrinkled from where he slept on it. He's not sure he wants to go to all the hassle of straightening it.

He still feels funny—fuzzy and bleary, like he's lost in a thick fog, like he's looking out at the world through dirty glass, like he's looking out at the world through a dark veil—but there's only the barest ache at the back of his skull, and when he opens his eyes, the room only slopes a little to the left.

He's still so exhausted, and he already wants to go back to sleep, but he can't go back to sleep—he's supposed to be with Arthur right now, or he's supposed to be doing something for Arthur, isn't he? Isn't that right? Hasn't he got something to do for Arthur? Hasn't he got something really important to do for Arthur? Isn't there something really bad he can't let happen to Arthur—?

It hits him in a cold shock of ice, and he bolts upright in the bed. "Sir Oswald."

"Merlin!" And, all of a sudden, out of the blue, utterly inexplicably, Arthur is there, his hands on Merlin's wrists, gentle but firm, his brow pinched, his face pale. "For God's sake, you idiot, lie back—!"

"S-Sir Oswald," Merlin gasps, breathless, frantic, "he's got a—a sword, and it—it looks blunt, but it's actually—"

"Merlin," Arthur says, sharper now, and he shoves Merlin back down to the bed, hard, "for God's sake, stop being an imbecile. Everything's all right, Gwaine showed me the sword, Sir Oswald's been dealt with."

Merlin almost doesn't believe it, but he can't think what would make Arthur lie to him, either. "H-Has he?"

"Yes." Arthur's blue eyes darken. "And it wasn't Sir Oswald. It was that thug from the tavern, Dagger."

"Oh." Merlin slumps down a little deeper into the pillows—now that he knows Arthur's not in danger, he's sorely tempted to go back to sleep again.

"Wonder if Dagger was the one," Arthur says, in that casual sort of voice that means he's actually seething with sheer rage, "who threw a chair at your head in the fight."

There it is.

Merlin winces. "Look, Arthur, I—"

"You know, there's one thing I'm a bit curious about," Arthur cuts him off, talking deliberately louder than he needs to. "Are you really stupid enough to think you can take a chair to the face and just walk 'round like nothing happened?"

Merlin flushes. "I thought I was all right, I-I felt all right—"

"You don't just take a chair to the face and feel all right!"

"Well, I did." Merlin feels he has to point this out, if only to see if it will finally shut Arthur up.

"Well, that's not normal!"

Apparently not. Merlin rolls his eyes. "What are you doing here, anyway? Haven't you got the melee to worry about?"

Arthur waves him off with an impatient little flick of his hand. "The melee's over."

"Over?" Merlin echoes incredulously, and he looks at once to the window, but it's still shut, and the only light in the room is the faint glow of the candles, so he whips back around to face Arthur. "H-How long have I been asleep?"

Arthur shrugs. "About five days. Give or take."

"Five days?"

"Well," Arthur says, in a rather sanctimonious sort of way, "that's what happens when you take a chair to the face and walk 'round like nothing—"

"Whatever," Merlin says, and it makes him feel sixteen all over again. "So," he adds, quickly, "so, the melee's over with, and Sir Oswald—Dagger," he corrects himself, "is gone?"

Arthur nods. "Dead. My father had them hanged for attempted treason and, once the life left them, the sorcery wore off, and their true faces were revealed."

"Right," Merlin says. It's rather hard to feel sorry for the brutes. "Right. Good." He nods, and he's surprised it doesn't make his head hurt. "How's Gwaine?"

The corner of Arthur's mouth ticks up in a small smile. "Highly offended. My father's just tried to give him a reward for his part in all this."

Merlin laughs. It's hard not to—he can already see Gwaine's outraged face in his mind. "He hasn't got much love for nobles."

"So I gathered," Arthur says peevishly.

"Well, you can't blame him," Merlin says fairly. "Hard to like nobles when they're all arrogant, supercilious prats—"

Arthur yanks one of the pillows out from behind Merlin's head and stuffs it in his face. "Shut up, Merlin."

The door creaks open and Gaius shuffles in. Merlin hastily peels the pillow away from his nose and mouth.

"Merlin!" Gaius tears the empty basket off his arm and tosses it onto the nearest chair before he hurries over to the bed. "You're awake!" He grabs Merlin's wrist to feel the pulse there. "Any pain? Nausea? Dizziness?"

"No," Merlin says, truthfully, "no, I'm fine."

Gaius' eyebrow creeps up an inch or so.

"Just tired," Merlin admits, a bit sullenly.

Gaius nods. "Right, then, that's good. Thank you for staying with him, Sire," he adds, over his shoulder to Arthur. "You may leave now."

"Of course, Gaius," Arthur nods and gets up on his feet, stretching his arms over his head. When the old man turns away to pull a few glass bottles down off a higher shelf, Arthur leans in and adds, in a low whisper, "Don't run into any more chairs while I'm gone. You really haven't got the brains to lose, you know."

And, with a light little pat to Merlin's shoulder, he's out the door.

#merlin #bbc merlin #fic #filled prompt #anonymous

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ve1vetyoongi · 4 years

Text

better with you | ksj - 01

Chapters: index

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Genre: fake dating/arranged marriage!au, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 19k

Summary: A part time job as a chef at Paradise Resort seems like the perfect way to spend your summer and save up some spare cash to open your own restaurant back home. That is until you cross paths with the CEO’s son who threatens to fire you if you don’t help him inherit his trust-fund-baby-fortune. How? By making you his fiancé. Well, his pretend fiancé at least.

Warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, spanking, semi-public sex.

A/N: uwu hello and welcome to the first chapter of better with you, part of the paradise series! i hope you enjoy reading these characters as much as i enjoyed writing them because they’re some of my favourites 🥺💘 p.s. im honestly not happy with the pacing of this chapter, but i really wanted to share, so bare with me if it sucks!

Paradise Resort and the people in it are nothing like how you imagined them to be.

Sure, Paradise is a picturesque gated community with sparkling lake views surrounded by pear trees and sprawling green lawns and white stone fountains like the website described. And sure, everyone here drives foreign cars and loiters by the pool on weekdays and drinks bubbly for breakfast from fine China beneath chandeliers which glisten in the morning sun.

But you quickly realise there is something off; something that doesn't quite fit the expectations you had when you arrived here at the start of the summer, wide eyed and excited.

And that something is you.

You aren't one of the balding golfers leisurely steering carts across the perfectly pruned Paradise grass, flirting unashamedly with pretty young women in tennis skirts as they pass. And you aren't one of their wives, leaving lipstick stains on crystal wine glasses in wicker chairs on balconies as they giggle over finger food and afternoon tea and ignorance of their husband's infidelities.

And you certainly aren't the type of girl to spend her summer's horseback riding or wielding badminton bats or sipping copious amounts of white wine, paid for a la daddy's credit card.

No, because you are a culinary major. Nothing more nothing less. And lucky for you, Paradise was hiring - at least for the summer, anyway, and who better to work overtime in the kitchens at the expense of rich dudes other than broke students, right?

While most people came to Paradise to unwind and celebrate another year of prosperity, it was simply your job to watch from the kitchen window, grit your teeth and save enough cash to put towards opening your own restaurant back home.

Which is exactly how you find yourself slaving away over a plate of scallop sashimi on the stickiest day of August as the kitchen gets ready for the biggest event in Resort history — at least according to your fellow summer employee and designated dish washer duty-man Park Jimin, who seemed to be a constant fountain of gossip -- a trait which you secretly liked him for, despite feigning disinterest in his tittle-tattle.

"Do these people even know what good food is?" You frown at an underwhelmingly small plate of goat cheese salad as you wipe the edge of the plate with a cloth. "They can't seriously want to eat this. Don't they ever just, like, want a burger or something?"

"You're just noticing this place is bonkers?" Jimin snickers behind you, hoisting his weight onto the counter and pulling a grimace of his own when he lay eyes on the limp pile of lettuce leaves they dare to refer to as a meal here. "I saw someone order dessert for breakfast yesterday. Rich people have no rules, Y/N. Besides, it's not like we can serve burgers once Mr Kim arrives."

"Mr Kim?" You ask curiously. "Who's that?"

Jimin's eyebrows furrow, like he can't actually believe you're asking him such a question. Ever since you got here at the beginning of the summer he's been diligently keeping you up to date with the latest Paradise gossip, so you aren't sure why he's surprised you're as out of the loop as ever.

"Mr Kim. The founder of Paradise’s son?" You shrug, blinking at him cluelessly and Jimin shakes his head with a pained expression, lowering his voice like he's utterly appalled at your ignorance. "You haven't heard anything about the guy who is gonna take over this place once his father retires? Kim Seokjin?"

Ah, so that's who the infamous Seokjin is. His name has been buzzing through the kitchen for the last week, much to your confusion, and apparently he would be dining in the restaurant tonight.

You heard the senior chef's were working over time to perfect the cherry clafoutis he personally requested (despite not being an on-the-menu dish) and his impending inheritance of his father's dynasty seemed a topic of hot gossip, spreading in hushed whispers from the bar girls out front to the janitor, everyone seemingly desperate to get a glimpse at the Kim Seokjin. Meaning there are only two possible reasons as to why: he is rich or he is filthy rich.

"So what's the big deal with this guy. Is he some sort of celebrity or something?" You nudge Jimin in the ribs as you return to your station and start to sauté a fresh batch of onions.

"Nah, just filthy rich." Jimin indulges and you nod. Just as I thought. "And goddamn hot if I should say so myself." He adds, returning to his dish washing station with a sigh, wrinkling his nose when his hands plunge into the soapy suds.

"Still, I don't see why I need to work over time for him." You grumble. The clock had chimed five o clock ten minutes ago and usually you'd be on your way to have a shower and shampoo the smell of grease and garlic out of your hair but instead you were still on the clock, orders lining up for you to prepare and stat. "What’s so special about him dropping by for dinner. Everyone here is rich."

"Well I was talking to one of the big guys," Jimin nods towards the senior chefs. "And apparently his parents have been trying to get him to marry his girlfriend for, like, ever." Jimin's voice dips to a whisper. "But get this. He broke up with his girlfriend last week when his parents suggested they get married!"

You narrow your eyes. "Right. So I'm working over time because some rich dude decided to throw his toys out of the stroller?"

Jimin rips off his pink rubber gloves and shakes you by the shoulders, like he’s trying to knock some sense into you. "Just shut up for a second would you? We're working overtime because his parent's have set him up on a date!"

You slap a hand over mouth, letting out an exaggerated gasp. "Not a date!"

"I know right!" Jimin shakes his head as if this is the scandal of the century, not quite sharing your sarcasm. "Can you believe it?"

"Is he talking about Kim Seokjin, again?" Jungkook, one of the summer buss boys, emerges from the restaurant through the double doors in his familiar black uniform. Jimin quickly smoothes down his hair, mentally chastising himself when soap suds coat his blonde locks, face burning as red as the tomatoes you chop beside him. It's common knowledge that Jimin has the biggest, all consuming crush on the oblivious chestnut haired waiter who flashes you an ever cheeky bunny smile now as he scoops up the dish you prepared onto the tray balanced on his forearm.

He shoots Jimin an eye roll. "All he talks about is Kim Seokjin this, Kim Seokjin that." Jungkook shrugs. "I really don't see what the big deal is about this guy."

Jimin crosses his arms sulkily and you have to stifle a laugh at the pair. "The big deal is that this date has to go well - no, perfect - because Seokjin needs to marry someone "parent approved" or else his father will reject him as the heir of his dynasty."

You want to ask him about his impressive eavesdropping abilities but you have to admit, this is pretty big news - especially around here where the latest hot gossip was Han Seojin's husband's gambling problem when he hit up the casino after a few too many brandy's.

"So basically, the fate of the resort lies in his hands tonight." Jimin adds excitedly as he slams the dishwasher closed with a triumphant grin.

You roll your eyes. That is surely a bit dramatic. The guy was probably too blinded by the riches he would be inheriting to care about the poor girl he was getting hitched too. "You're invested in this, huh?"

Jimin nods eagerly. "Like I said. He's hot. Like sex on legs hot."

If you weren't watching carefully you may have missed Jungkook's eyes narrowing slightly or the way he tenses and puffs out his chest. "Pfft. He is not."

"So is!" Jimin pouts. "You're just jealous you're not as inhumanely gorgeous as he is." Jungkook raises a brow and Jimin rushes to smooth over his words. "Not that you're not gorgeous! No, that's not what I mean—"

The awkward moment is interrupted by the sound of a ladle banging against a frying pan, and you let out a groan when you hear the unmistakable yell of the head chef. "Attention everyone!"

"Speaking of crazy people." Jimin mutters with a roll of his eyes, rolling up his uniform sleeves and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as all the employees gather in the centre of the kitchen. "Looks like Hoseok got out of the wrong side of bed again."

You stifle a giggle when you find that Jimin is in fact correct, head chef Hoseok rounding the corner with an ever serious expression on his face. He has always been the stern type, mouth constantly fixed in a permanent frown as he criticises your dicing skills or catches you burning another steak, but you can see by the bluish bags under his eyes and the furrowed lines etched into his forehead that he means business today and a hush quickly falls over the kitchen apart from the gentle hiss of frying onions.

"As you all know, today is a big day for Paradise." He begins. "Each and every one of our future's here as employees depends on it. Mr. Kim has chosen us to cater for his dinner date and I need each and every one of you to do everything you can to make sure it goes smoothly. Capeesh?"

Dang. Is head chef Hoseok himself nervous? He's usually irritatingly confident in his cooking abilities. Maybe this was more serious than you thought...

"I'm counting on you guys to prove our worth, you hear me? It's already an honour that he picked us to host such an important event, and if we fumble who d'ya think he's gonna fire first once he takes over as CEO?" Hoseok interrupts your train of thought, waving a wooden spoon now like he's conducting an orchestra. "Which is why I expect zero funny business. I'm looking at you Jeon Jungkook! Now scram, we have customers to feed."

A unanimous groan fills the room as everyone gets back to work, and the kitchen falls into a state of turmoil as the clock ticks away, Seokjin due to arrive in a few hours and you haven’t even started on his appetizer yet.

"This better be worth it." You grumble to yourself, suppressing a smile when Jungkook bounds like a Labrador puppy into the restaurant fit with an armful of salads yelling "Rabbit food coming up, y'all!", despite the stern look Hoseok sends his way.

You turn to Jimin, rolling your eyes at the hearts in his eyes for Jungkook as he strains his neck to get a glimpse of the chestnut haired boy's ass through the kitchen's window. He blushes when he notices you looking, but not before he’s flashing you a grin.

"Just wait until you see him," Jimin calls cheekily as you rush to the stove you had abandoned earlier. "Then you'll be glad you worked over time."

As it turns out, you are not glad you worked overtime. Kim Seokjin is late. Unfashionably late. So late that you are considering eating the dish you slaved over for nearly an hour to perfect to his preferences only for him to let it go limp and cold.

At least you could add another trait to the list of what you now know about Kim Seokjin: filthy rich, (allegedy) goddamn hot, heir to the resort and most importantly douche bag who can't make it on time to the first date with his future wife.

To make matters worse, the level of unrest in the kitchens is unlike anything you have ever seen before as everyone nervously awaits his arrival. Jungkook has been out front to polish the wine glasses at the private table he set up and lovingly adorned with candles and a bottle of iced champagne of the expensive kind because it would "create sexy vibes" more times than you can count. Hoseok took extra care with the placement of the parsley on top of the steaks he grilled and you even saw Jimin fixing his hair in the reflection of a shiny pan.

When the clock ticked over to eight, everyone had gathered around the small kitchen window, eyes beadily trained to the door.

"He'll be here any minute now, I can feel it." Jimin whispers as he sidles up beside you, practically vibrating. His excitement for the date has started to rub off on you, a funny fuzzy feeling settling in your chest — all this Kim Seokjin talk has you itching to see the guy in the flesh, even if it is just from behind the kitchen window.

Sure enough, Jimin's Kim Seokjin senses must be somewhat accurate because a hurried hush falls across the kitchen as a black car pulls up outside, a unanimous gasp filling the room as you watch him emerge from behind the tinted glass windows in awe.

You were waiting for a tight lipped guy in a suit and tie to step inside; a younger clone of all the middle aged men who frequented the resort when their "model" children got busted bunking off from golf games or whatever rich kids did to rebel. Except the guy that strolls through the sliding doors like he has time to waste is so far from the average Paradise resident that you are almost sure you're hallucinating. Or have onion in your eyes. Surely you aren't seeing this clearly?

The guy who crosses the threshold and takes a seat at the table Jungkook graciously guides him to is clad in a vibrant Hawaiian shirt, the floral a stark contrast to the luxe interior of the resort. The garment is unbuttoned lazily and draped across his broad shoulders, a pair of round,humorously large sunglasses perched on the end of his nose, and if you weren't so shocked by his...impressionable entrance you might find the whole situation comical.

"This is Kim Seokjin?" You splutter, unable to stop the giggles that leave your lips at the sight of him bobbing his head unnecessarily hard to the monotonous classical tune that carries through the restaurant, blatantly ignoring whatever words Jungkook (who looked completely starstruck) was stuttering.

The situation becomes even more ridiculous when you see the disgruntled look on the pretty girl who traipses behind him awkwardly, dressed in a floor length gown and pearls, face turning sour when Seokjin neglects his manners and forces her to pull her own chair out to sit while he zones in on the bottle of alcohol in the centre of the table.

They look like characters out of two separate worlds. Jewels glitter on her fingers as she taps them agitatedly against the table, clearly as dumbfounded by the situation as you are, especially when she offers her glass to Seokjin to pour her a drink, only for him to thrust the entire bottle of wine in her face.

Your attention is drawn away from the unfolding scene momentarily when Jungkook flies back into the kitchen in typical Jungkook fashion, except this time with an extra bout of zealousness if the stars in his eyes weren't already obvious.

"I take it back!" He puffs, slipping his empty tray beneath his elbow, hands now free to swing Jimin around in circles. "He's the most beautiful human I've ever seen!"

You cross your arms with a sneer. "Looks like a goof to me. That shirt? Not a good look on anyone."

"But his face!"

"Yeah, his face, covered by those obnoxious glasses."

"You didn't see it." Jungkook whispers, pulling your hands into his own. "He could end mankind with that kind of face! And I bet he has a monster dong too-"

"Okay, jeez." You push him away, scrunching your nose in disgust. "No discussing customer's monster dongs in the kitchen."

"So you admit he probably has one?"

"Shush!" You hiss. The kitchen huddle lets out a synchronised gasp and you elbow your way back to the window, peering past a tall chef's hat to fix your attention on the scene which had somehow escalated ten fold since you'd left it.

Seokjin's body is wracked with laughter, hand slamming down ferociously against the table, making his date wince every time the fine china jumps on the table cloth. Her hands are placed carefully atop the napkin in her lap, food untouched as Seokjin takes the liberty to pour himself another glass of wine. He looks utterly uninterested in anything she has to say, and she seems embarrassed by his mannerless behaviour, glancing around anxiously. The tension between them is suffocating, even from your safe distance, and you swear you could cut it with one of the knives hanging from the utensil rack.

Then, Seokjin leans in towards her. He removes his glasses, carefully tucking them neatly into his shirt pocket before resting his chin in his palm to stare at her intently.

Maybe he was finally taking an interest in her? She seems to think the same thing, a small smile creeping onto her face despite her awkward demeanour.

Until it slips from her face nearly as fast as it appeared, replaced by an expression of pure appalled horror when Seokjin whispers something into her ear. You can only see the back of his head so lip reading is out of the question; but if the way her chin drops into her lap was anything to go by, you have a feeling whatever he said was not something you wanted to hear on a first date and probably not from your future husband, either.

Without further ado, the girl throws her cutlery down with a clash, gathering the fabric of her dress and storming out of the restaurant in a manner that suggests the date went badly to say the least.

A ruckus has broken out in the kitchen by this point; Jimin and Jungkook stopping mid monster dong debate to gawk, a rumble of chatter erupting as everyone processes the events you had just witnessed.

What did he say? Do you think it was the steak? What does this mean for Paradise? Is he still gonna marry her?

The last one came from Jungkook and you couldn't help but bite your lip in an attempt to smother the laughter that threatened to spill at his question. "Somehow I don't think he proposed to her just then, Kook."

Your eyes zone in on Seokjin again. He is slumped back in his seat now, knuckles pressed to his eyes. He looks exhausted, a sudden change in demeanour considering this is the same guy who was shooting finger guns at his date a few moments ago. Now he just seems defeated

For a moment you think he is going to get up and leave. That is until he twists in his seat, motioning towards the kitchen window with a crook of the finger. Dessert? He mouths.

The kitchen staff disperse hurriedly, a tinge of red creeping up Hoseok's neck at being caught spying, although it is clear by the smirk on Seokjin's face that he knew you were watching him all along. There is something in his eyes that even has you wiping the amused expression of your face, though. An authority.

"Could this night have gone any worse?" You ask Jimin, referring to Seokjin's debacle. Except Jungkook is quick to interject, thrusting two black bags in your face with a grin.

"For you, yes. Your turn to take out the trash."

You blink at him a few times before reluctantly taking the bags from his grip. They were heavy, nearly making you stumble. How had Jungkook held them so easily?

"Fine." You manage to get out between gritted teeth, struggling to balance with the extra weight in your arms. "But you owe me."

"Oh believe me," There is a glint in Jungkook's eyes that you can't quite put your finger on. What was he up to? "I'll make it up to you sooner than you think."

It's dimly lit when you stumble out back armed with a pile of trash bags, the only light source some fairy lights strung around the palm trees lining the restaurant. It takes all your strength and three tries to haul the heavy trash bags into the dark mouth of the dumpster and you're out of breath by the time you're finished.

Finally satisfied with your work, you wipe your hands on your apron and turn to stalk back inside and flick Jungkook's forehead - except a loud ringing from somewhere in the shadows stops you dead in your tracks.

You stiffen, hand reaching for the door handle as a precaution, head snapping towards the direction of the sound. You can't help the small gasp that leaves your lips when you take in the figure of a tall man leaning against the kitchen wall just a few meters away, the ringing ceasing when he lifts a phone to his ear with a frustrated groan.

Shit! As soon as you realise you're not alone and before you can think better of it you're scrambling behind the dumpster, crouching so that you're just out of view but still in earshot as the figure starts to murmur into the microphone.

"Yeah, dad, I know she flew all the way from Morocco to be here tonight. It's not my fault we weren't compatible!"

Huh? A voice squeaks on the other end of the line, and though you can't work out what they say exactly the frustrated sigh that leaves the man a few meters away tells you it wasn't exactly friendly.

"What makes you think you know what's best for me? I never wanted this stupid engagement in the first place!"

Intrigued and against your better judgement, you brace your hands on the edge of the dumpster and pull yourself on top of a cardboard box discarded beside it to get a better view of the scene. If you strain your neck you can just about see the shadow of a tall figure pacing back and forth just around the corner and you can't help but lean in a little closer to hear his harsh words more clearly, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Because it's my life! I'm sick of you and mom always telling me what to do with it." You raise an eyebrow, ever intrigued when the voice lifts from a hush to a yell. "Fine! I'll go on another date, but you'll see. I won't end up like you. You owe me big time for this, dad."

With that the phone call is cut off with a monotone beep and you see the shadow of the man pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing sharply, before the soles of his polished loafers crunch against the gravel in the direction of where you crouch, eavesdropping. You had enough experience with the residents here to know they wouldn't take this lightly — you had to sign a handful of NDA's before you even got the job, so naturally your eyes widen with panic when you realise you're about to get busted listening in on a confidential call. But before you can dive behind a trash bag and take cover, you lose your footing and find yourself hurtling head first into the dumpster, landing with a crash.

A few seconds pass, the footsteps ceasing as you squeeze your eyes shut and pray your beating heart doesn't give you away, before a voice calls out.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

"No!" You squeak hurriedly, slapping a hand over your mouth when it's already too late and flushing a deep shade of red when you hear a sharp intake of breath and you realise you've blown your own cover

You silently hope the guy will give up and leave, but then you hear someone climbing the outside of the dumpster and you open your eyes to see a puzzled pair of eyes peering down at you from beneath a cocked eyebrow, followed my a loud snort. "You need some help down there, sweetheart?"

This guy might be a total stranger, but any questioning words die on your tongue when you look around and remember you're literally trapped inside a dumpster and your upper arm strength is definitely not enough to get you out of this thing alone and — hold up, there's probably rats in here, right?

You scramble to your feet, brushing your messy hair from your eyes with a nervous laugh. "Uh...yeah. I guess I do."

A steady hand emerges over the edge of the dumpster and with a weak and embarrassed smile you grasp it, suppressing a squeak when the guy unexpectedly launches you over his shoulder so that he can pull you out in one fell swoop and set you safely on the ground.

"Uh, thanks." You manage to get out when you find your balance, awkwardly brushing some dirt from your apron. "Good thing you walked by when you did..."

"Yeah, guess you could call me your knight in shining armor, huh?" The guy chuckles, long and smooth like velvet. A laugh you've heard before, just moments ago in fact. That's when you battle through your embarrassment to look up and face him for the first time, flushing at the involuntary gasp that passes your lips.

The man before you has the deepest eyes you've ever seen, sharp yet soft around the edges beneath the sparkle of the low light and you shiver when they finish looking you up and down to stare into yours directly. Your eyes slip down to the familiar Hawaiian shirt draped over his broad shoulders, eyes widening when you look between your bodies to find his fingers still clasping your own as he eyes you with a curious interest.

"S-Seokjin?" You splutter. He nods, letting out a deeper chuckle this time as though he could hold it back no longer. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question," He counters, letting you go so he can reach into his pocket to retrieve a half pack of cigarettes and a lighter, ironically just beneath the unmissable NO SMOKING sign. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here hauling trash at this hour?"

"I...work here."

He nods and you just stare at him like an open mouthed idiot. He must think it's because of the way he fiddles to spark a light at the end of his cigarette, drawing his eyes from the stick back to your surprised expression. "What? Oh these? I don't smoke. Stole these from my father's coat pocket." He shakes the box back and forth with a smug grin. "Nothing pisses him off more than loosing his Lucky Strikes. Besides, I own this place, I can do what I like."

You shrug. "Well, your father does." You are speaking too quickly, mentally pinching yourself for not being able to bite your own tongue. "He owns this place I mean. Right?"

A blush creeps up your neck under his gaze which narrows as he draws closer to you. His eyes are a deeper brown up close, like a pot of warm hot chocolate - soft at the edges where they crinkle into a smile at your rushed words. Nothing like the steely glares you usually got from residents here.

"Correct," The toe of his shoe kicks at the gravel beneath your soles while he strings together his next words carefully. "For now. I'll be proud owner of Paradise before the year is out, though."

"Ha." You can't help but snort under your breath, Seokjin's head simply tilting in response with an almost amused curiosity. "I don’t know about that. Didn't look like your fiance wanted to marry you very much."

"Word spreads quick around here, huh?" He lets out a dark laugh, grimacing at the cloud of nicotine that floats away into the nigh from the cigarette between his fingers that flutters to the gravel before it’s even reached his lips. You wince when he uses the toe of his Balenciaga’s to stub it out into a pile of smoldering ash before reaching for another one that he lights in the same way as before. "She wasn't my fiance, actually.To be honest, I hadn't even met her before tonight."

You let out an awkward laugh. "I take it the wedding's off then?"

"Ha ha," You practically hear the roll of his eyes. "At least one of us finds this funny, because my father sure as shit won't." His tone is suddenly chilly and for a moment you think you offended him, though a quick scan of his face reveals a turn up of the mouth that says otherwise. He kicks off from the wall, slinging his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and you swallow thickly as the safe distance between you grows ever smaller, so close you can smell his woody cologne. "It was never on, per se. And it never will be if I have anything to do with it."

You can't help but scoff at the way he tightens his jaw and throws his arms across his chest like a toddler in time out. Sure, you hardly knew the guy but something about his attitude rubs you the wrong way. This is the guy who has everything, yet he's trash talking his lavish lifestyle to a summer employee?

"You're kind of an asshole, huh?"

"Can't say I haven't heard that one before." Seokjin agrees with a smirk. "But you don't seem like much of an angel yourself. First I find you eavesdropping on me, save your ass from a dumpster and then you choose to insult me?"

You shift awkwardly under his intense gaze, worried you might have overstepped, mouth dry as you spit out a response. "I...I didn't mean it like that—"

"God, chill out would you? I’m kidding. You're so stiff it's stressing me out." His tongue snakes out to lick his lips thoughtfully. "You're different, y'know."

"Huh?"

"I can tell you're not like everyone else around here. You're honest." Seokjin explains, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt to allow him some more breathing room as he continues. "Everyone around here is either a liar or a cheat. Or both."

"You don't even know me." You huff.

"You don’t know me either, princess.” Seokjin smirks. “So what makes you so sure I'm an asshole?."

He blinks at you eagerly, and you realise he's serious when he arrogantly waves his hand for you to go ahead and indulge him, like he's somewhat amused.

Well damn. If this guy wanted honesty you'd sure as shit give it to him

"You want the truth?" You suck in a deep breath. "I don't know what I expected when I heard the buzz about you but it certainly wasn't a rich guy who wears hawaiian shirts and makes girls cry on first dates. I don’t need to know a single thing about you to know that you’re an ungrateful asshole, just like everyone else at this resort."

A few seconds pass, Seokjin's eyes widening in momentary surprise like he wasn't used to people telling him the truth, before his face breaks out into a beaming grin. "I have a feeling we're going to be good friends." He glances at your name tag. "Y/N, is it?"

You half nod before you register his words. "Friends, what do you mean—?"

Just then the phone in his grip starts to vibrate violently, and he holds it up so you can see the bold DAD that lights up the screen.

"Sorry to cut this short pretty, but I need to take this. Better get back to work before I cut your pay check, sweetheart." You must look visibly nervous because he bursts into laughter. "What? I'm kidding, remember?"

You roll your eyes, hiding the way your face heats up by spinning on your heels and storming back towards the kitchen, pausing briefly before you can turn the handle when you hear Seokjin call your name.

"Hey. Wait up! One piece of advice. Don't let this place, get to you, okay?" Seokjin calls with a smile. "I like your honesty, it's...refreshing."

And with that he lifts the phone to his ear, disappearing around the shadowy corner with an irritating smile and a finger salute.

For some funny reason, Seokjin's words ring out in your head for the rest of the night. I have a feeling we're going to be good friends. Something tells you that isn't the last time you're going to see Kim Seokjin, and you can't tell if the way your heart skips a beat is a good thing or not.

Much to your surprise, that isn't the last time you see Kim Seokjin.

The next night he returned equally as late and equally as eccentrically dressed and left his date, blonde this time, (though equally as pretty as the last one) flustered and red in the face as she stormed out of the restaurant with glassy eyes and crushed dreams

The night after that you spot him arguing a little too loudly with a feisty lady outside the restaurant, the way he doesn't even stay long enough to finish his champagne a clear indication that the date went less than perfect.

Night after night, the same scenario played out with different unimpressed women, until finally, they just stopped coming. No more girls. No more dates. No more of Seokjin's signature laughter permeating the entire restaurant. Sure, the guy was a complete asshole, that much was clear; but you his absence left the restaurant feeling even more lifeless than before.

Obviously Seokjin's fucked up dating life wasn’t anything to laugh about. But you had to admit his antics put a smile on your face, something which had been few and far between as of late. Even when Hoseok was working you overtime, you found yourself biting your lip to suppress a grin every time Seokjin waltzed through the door. And now he was gone, and with it your small escape from reality.

"Do you think his parents finally gave up?" Jimin sighs one late evening, shaking his wet hands in the face of Jungkook who bats him away playfully.

"Nah, he probably just found a girl he likes." Jungkook reasons. "Made his parents see things from his point of view."

You snort. "They don't sound like the type of parents who would give up that easy." After more dates than you could count on one hand with various suitors deemed good enough for their son, it was clear they were prepared for him to rebel. You doubted they would give in without a fight.

"You might be right..." Jungkook trails off, rushing to smush his face against the window. "Unless...wait! I think he's back!"

"He's back?" You breathe, elbowing Jungkook out of the way and ignoring his ow! of protest, your own breath fogging up the glass now as your eyes dart from table to table in search of a familiar face.

You let out a breathy laugh. Sure enough, there he is. Hair gelled back tonight you noted, bouncing his skinny jean clad knee beneath the table with an impatience you can't quite put your finger on.

Wait...

"Ha!" You almost do a double take. Seokjin is sat alone tonight. No nearly-crying-twenty-something across from him. Just Seokjin with a single flute of champagne in his hand opposite an utterly empty chair.

Well. This is new.

"I think he's been stood up!" You lower your voice to a whisper when your burst of laughter gains a few strange looks. "There's no girl with him this time."

"What?" Jimin splutters, standing on his tip toes in an attempt to see over your shoulder. "No girl?! Let me see!"

You budge over and Jimin lets out a gasp of surprise when he takes in the scene for himself. "The Kim Seokjin got stood up. I can't believe it!"

"Maybe he's getting a taste of his own medicine." You muse.

A mischievous look crosses Jungkook's features and then he is pulling on his black apron and scurrying towards the door. "Let's find out!"

"What? — Jungkook!"

You watch open mouthed as Jungkook approaches the lonely table, fingers quivering around the order notebook he clutches like a safety blanket, with nerves or excitement you can't quite tell; before he exchanges a few words with Seokjin who barely even glances up, lazily folding a napkin in his lap. Jungkook nods vigorously before he speed walks back to the kitchen like his life depends on it, a smug grin appearing on his lips as he thrusts the order slip towards you.

"Two orders of sirloin steak, medium! Pronto!"

"Two?" You and Jimin splutter in unison.

Jungkook looks amused. Too amused for your liking.

"Yup! And guess what?" Jimin is hanging off his every word, desperate pleas of what? making Jungkook chuckle harder. "He wants the chef to serve it."

You narrow your eyes. "Hoseok? Why?"

Jungkook scoffs as if you're being clueless on purpose. "Not Hoseok, idiot!"

"Then who?"

"You." Jungkook points a finger right at you.

"Me? Wait! Jeon Jungkook, you get back here!" Before you can ask questions he is already bounding into the restaurant like a labrador on crack.

"Have fun!" He yells over his shoulder with a wink. "You'll thank me later, Y/N."

Half an hour later and you're stood with two steaming plates balanced on your arm. Why are you so nervous? All you have to do is go out there and serve the food. It's not like he was asking you to kill someone.

But every time you muster up the courage to go out there you remember your encounter with Seokjin outside the kitchens, and you instantly feel weak at the knees.

You smooth down your apron one last time, filling your lungs with the stuffy kitchen air before Jimin's hands clamp onto your shoulders and steer you towards the door.

"What are you—?" One forceful push later and you're stumbling out into the restaurant. "Jimin!"

"You can do this!" You hear Jimin call, the exasperated look you send over your shoulder in response prompting a not so reassuring thumbs up. The way your eyes downturn into a dark glare makes him collapse into a fit of gasps and giggles as he nods for you to keep going.

I'm going to get him back for this...

The table Seokjin liked to frequent is closest to the window, view casting out over the lake which the resort surrounds like a half moon, terribly modern in all it's white pillared glory in contrast to the natural beauty of the clear blue water. The lake is darkened now with the reflection of the midnight blue sky, the soft glow of lanterns lighting up the path around it and illuminating the picture of weeping willows which ripples across the water's surface, disturbed only by canoeists tying up their boats for the evening.

Seokjin doesn't seem interested in the quiet goings on of the resort. He has probably seen them a hundred times before. His back is facing you but you can see how his eyes are transfixed on the sliding entrance doors in the windows reflection. It was late evening and most people would be returning to their suites for the night by now, but Seokjin's steely gaze remains unwavering, like he's expecting it to zip open any minute. Is he waiting for someone?

Some part of you feels sympathetic. It doesn't look like anyone is coming to join him any time soon. Poor guy is about to get a taste of his own medicine and look like a fool sat opposite an empty chair harbouring a plate of uneaten food.

Ha. It's exactly what he deserves, you think. Karma.

Every step towards him feels heavier than the last until eventually you find yourself stood with knees knocking right behind him, food probably going cold with every second you spend coaxing yourself to man up and face him. You silently pray he won't hear the pound of your heart over the low hum of chatter and scrapes of cutlery against china plates that seem to fall away to silence in this corner of the restaurant where it's just Seokjin and you.

You're debating spinning on your heels and making Jungkook do it instead when Seokjin's unrelenting stare at the door snaps up to meet yours in the window's reflection, the authority in his eyes enough to have you hiding behind your hair in shame at being caught dwindling like an idiot.

"I wasn't expecting you to actually come." His voice is a deep hum that makes you jolt and nearly drop the plates. A heat burns your cheeks when Seokjin swirls the champagne in his glass amusedly, facing you with his forearm on the back of his seat and beckoning for you to set the plates down with a nod of his head. An order.

You narrow your eyes, unable to curb the irritation that laces your sigh as you obey him. You set down the dishes, one in front of him and the other in front of the seat still empty of whomever he is expecting. "I wasn't exactly expecting to be serving you tonight either. I usually just prepare the food."

Seokjin doesn't miss the roll of your eyes, snorting at the shake of your hand that gives away the anxiety beneath your front when crystal beads of champagne splash onto the immaculate table cloth as you try to top up his glass.

"Yeah and here's a reason for that. You're a shit waitress."

The way you slam the bottle down onto the table top is a little too aggressive, the legs shaking violently and drawing the eyes of a few of the surrounding diners who wipe their mouths with a delicate astonishment and flash you dark looks at the disturbance.

"Are we done? If I'm so bad then why did you call me out here?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." His fingers fold the napkin in his lap carefully. He settles back into his chair with a grin laced with mischief while you practically hop from foot to foot with nerves. "Would you sit for a second?"

"I'm an employee." You raise a brow. "I don't think that's appropriate..."

"Please?" He rests his chin in his palms.

You hug your torso and self consciously glance side to side. With a roll of your eyes you sink down into the chair, if a little reluctantly, when you're sure the couple at the table directly opposite are too deep in conversation about the crème brûlée to notice the strange encounter happening beside them.

"Fine! But make it quick or Hoseok might actually shave my head."

Seokjin gets straight to the point. "I need you to do something for me."

There is a glint in his eye as he snatches up the glass intended for the rightful occupant of the leather cushion you perch on, pouring a small amount of champagne into the flute and pushing it towards you with an encouraging nod. You observe the fizzing liquid with caution, turning your nose up at the floral aroma. Was he trying to poison you with Veuve Clicquot?

"Okay, elaborate?"

"I'm going to need you to pretend to be my date." You wait for him to laugh but his lips are pressed together in a line that tell you he is being serious. "You up for it?"

"Excuse me?" An astonished laugh punctuates your widened eyes, voice raising incredulously at his request. "Your what?"

"Hear me out!" Seokjin hisses, holding a finger to his lip to quiet you down when you splutter on the air that feels like it's thickening in your throat. "I just need to get my father off my back. It'll be five minutes tops!"

By this point you are rendered speechless, pinching the inside of your thigh to check if you are trapped in some weirdly vivid nightmare.

You? His date? Oh god...why aren't you waking up?

Your lips curl around a single breathless word. "Why?"

"Hello, I'm Kim Seokjin? Dad owns the resort? Need to get married to inherit it? I thought we went over this the other day—"

Throwing your arms over your chest impatiently, you click your tongue. "I remember idiot! I mean why me?"

"For fucks sake — you want the truth?" He chuckles but it's devoid of any humour. "You're new around here so my father is less likely to recognise you, okay?" He downs the rest of his glass, picks up his fork and pokes the cold steak on his plate restlessly, hardly bothering to look you in the face even when you scoff in disbelief.

You bite your lip, voice quiet. "Is this some sort of game?"

You are no stranger to Seokjin's tricks — you watched them play out with your own eyes, more girls than you could count on one hand leaving the restaurant in tears or worse — and something feels funny in your stomach, an instinct that says he has an ulterior motive you just can't put your finger on.

From the corner of your eye you spot Hoseok poking his head into the dining area, eyes merciless as they scan the room in search of you, the tell tale tap of his foot against the ground a giveaway of his growing impatience which makes you duck out of view in fear.

"If this is just one of your sick jokes then congrats," You deadpan. "I could literally lose my job over this."

"What? No!" He seems genuinely surprised at your accusation, exasperated sigh sounding desperate while his eyes bore into yours with a look that says please. "I'll explain everything. Please?"

He winces when your chair scrapes loudly against the tile as you get to your feet with a disbelieving shake of your head. "Sorry but I have a job to do—"

Suddenly Seokjin lets out a gasp and you hear the automatic glass doors zip open. "Ah shit!"

Seokjin's eyes widen with panic but before you can twist to see who has arrived for yourself, you're being pulled back down into the seat opposite him roughly by the elbow.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Seokjin isn't listening, shrugging his jacket down his arms and wrapping the fabric around your shoulders hastily. "Cover your uniform, okay?"

The smell of his expensive cologne fills your senses and a warm hand squeezes your shoulder pleadingly, the glint in his eye replaced with desperation.

For a moment you falter and his face brightens, believing you to be finally convinced. Until you come back to your senses and slap his hand away. "Get off me!"

"Too late." Seokjin murmurs, but before you can shoot him a questioning glance a pair of polished black shoes stop beside you. Your entire body stiffens, aware of a pair of eyes probing the back of your head.

Oh no.

"Seokjin."

An unfamiliar deep voice rumbles beside you and when you dare to look up you're met with the peering face of an older man who you recognise from the Paradise website. There are traces of Seokjin visible in the curve of his mouth and the sharp edge of his jaw and he was probably considered good looking in his youth.

Ah. So this is Mr Kim?

"You lasted longer than fifteen minutes. This must be a new record, son."

Despite their likeness it's hard to believe they are father and son -- the stern frown keeping a pair of thin framed glasses balancing on Seokjin’s father’s nose along with his crisp tailored suit a far cry from the boy sat cross legged opposite you, wine colored shirt unbuttoned too far to be a mistake.

Seokjin plasters a false grin to his mouth and raises his glass towards Mr Kim, as if to toast. "I told you I would try didn't I?"

Mr Kim says nothing, averting his intimidating gaze to you instead. Your mouth dries when he addresses you directly. "What was your name again?"

Shit! Alarm bells sound in your head, instantly regretting coming out here in the first place and getting mixed up in Seokjin's mess.

You swallow thickly, hardly daring to look him in the eye. "It's — uh," Seokjin is signalling at you with an alarmed look, face falling into his palms with a muffled groan when you fail to catch on. "Y-Y/N. I'm Y/N."

"Is it now?" Mr Kim scratches his chin thoughtfully, humming to himself as he studies your face. Shit, does he recognise you from the kitchen? Are you about to get fired? Your pulse goes into overdrive when his eyes narrow. "I'm sure I remember it being something like—"

"Her middle name!" Seokjin quickly butts in, cutlery clattering onto his plate in his haste to gain his fathers attention. "She goes by her middle name. We were just talking about it actually. Right, Y/N?"

All eyes fall on you again, Seokjin sending you a pleading look, but you don't trust your voice not to waver so you just nod and hide your rosy cheeks by wrapping your lips around rim of the untouched champagne glass.

"Funny middle name." He shrugs, landing an audible slap to Seokjin's back who winces at the hard contact. Mr Kim's eyes seem kinder as they look between you. "I'm proud of you, son. I'm glad you could finally see things from our perspective."

"Sure, dad." Seokjin shrinks away from his fathers touch with a look of distaste. "Now would you do us a favor and leave us to discuss...marriage things?" You choke on your mouthful of bubbly, eyes watering as you try to hold back a spluttering cough.

Thankfully, Mr Kim is already losing interest, flashing Seokjin a thumbs up before striding over to one of the waiters holding a platter of coconut shrimp appetizers and taking a handful for himself.

Watching him gain a safe distance and disappear among a circle of business men at the bar, you finally feel safe to let out the shaky breath you were holding. Seokjin presses his knuckles to his eyes, the vein in his neck protruding with tension.

"What the fuck was that?" He seems to have forgotten your presence, lost in his own thoughts until you rip his jacket from where it sits around your shoulders and throw it into his lap with contempt. Your laugh of disbelief sounds foreign to your own ears, unable to comprehend what actually just happened.

"You're crazy!" You let out breathlessly. "I'm out of here."

Before you can storm off like you want to, Seokjin's hand closes around your wrist and pins you in place.

"Listen, I know you think this is ridiculous but I'm literally about to get on my knees and beg you here. Just do me one more favour." You shoot him a glare and for a second you think he might actually drop to the ground and grovel if you asked him to. "Just one!"

No matter how hard you try to pull away Seokjin is persistent. "Why should I?"

"Because you have a conscience?" He pleads. "The human desire to help others in need?"

"This is crazy—"

"I'll repay you!"

You pause. "How?"

"Undecided." His head tilts in thought. "You need money?"

Disgust courses through your veins. This guy thinks he can buy you? You have encountered some entitled rich guys at Paradise but this has to be the icing on the cake, an unbelievable disconnect from acceptable social discourse — though are you surprised? He doesn't exactly have a reputation for being a good conversation holder for fucks sake, just ask his other dates.

You scoff. "I don't accept bribes. I think we're done here. Good luck with your plan or...whatever."

"Y/N wait—" Something in his voice makes you stop dead this time. An authority. No longer pleading but commanding. "I'll fire you myself right here if you don't help me out just once."

Your heart twists. Part of you knows that whatever Seokjin has in mind will be batshit crazy, if his antics tonight were anything to judge by. It would pain you to do something so demeaning but...you need this job. The decision was practically made for you.

You swivel to face him. He is standing over you now, hands on hips as if he means business. "One favor! That's it!"

He punches the air triumphantly. "You want it in writing or something?" He teases, the glint in his eye back now and taunting as you practically vibrate with a combination of embarrassment and rage.

"Don't push it." You warn.

"Okay, jeez." He throws his hands up in defense. You are acutely aware of the hysterical giggles coming from the kitchen belonging to none other than Jungkook and Jimin and the way your face burns scarlet as you storm away from Seokjin with fists clenched. "I'll let you know when I need you, sweetheart."

09:04, from unknown: — 10 o clock. meet me outside the archery court. — go to locker 16, key will be in the lock. you'll find everything you need inside

The light of your phone stings your half-open eyes, slumber still clinging to your body as you rub away any remnants of sleep with your knuckles and re-read the strange text over and over again.

Archery? An accidental text to the wrong number, surely?

You glance at the clock next to your bed - the text was sent over twenty minutes ago by now. Whoever the recipient was supposed to be wouldn't have long to get ready.

09:26, you: — huh? who is this?

Before you can even set your phone down and swing your legs out of bed your phone pings, the sound enough to make you wince in your sleepy state.

09:26, unknown: — it's seokjin??? — you know, the guy you're supposed to be marrying?

Excuse you?

All remnants of sleep and/or inner peace are ripped away as soon as you see his name pop up on your homescreen.

"Seokjin?" You splutter out loud. A name you never thought you would have to see again, let alone at this time in the morning.

You scramble into a sitting position, back pressed to the headboard as you grip your bed hair in pure disbelief. The three little dots bounce menacingly at the bottom of the screen as you type and re-type a response. Eventually you settle on something simple and to the point:

09:28, you: — how the fuck did you get this number???

Ping ping. You resist a face palm as you gather the confidence to input your password and read whatever bullshit Seokjin responded with.

09:29, unknown: — i think you're forgetting i own this place — not to brag but ive got connections — anyway, you have half an hour to get your ass over here before my sister arrives.

As you thought - utter bullshit. His sister? It's almost as if Seokjin thinks you are actually dating - or even worse, actually getting hitched.

Wait...he doesn't...does he? You suppress a groan. Why else would he be dragging you out of your apartment to go and shoot arrows at targets with his sister instead of polishing his golf club collection or lounging with self made millionaires or whatever rich things rich guys do.

You are just here to get some culinary experience. To blend into the background like the rest of the employees at Paradise, to focus on making the lives of CEO's and retired business men as easy and as luxurious as possible. Why on earth is he even taking notice of you?

09:30, you: — your sister??

09:30, unknown: — yeah? who'd you think you were arching with? — i don't do sports. — count yourself lucky my mom had to take a rain check

Fuck. His mom?

"Get a grip!" You chastise yourself. You had barely spoken two words to each other before the other night, his existence unbeknownst to yours let alone yours to his; the exchange itself a glitch in the simulation and definitely not something which you wanted to make a habit - so why are you instilled with nerves at the thought of meeting this guy's family?

You don't have time to respond with a harsh reminder of your respective positions at Paradise and why this is absolutely a Bad Idea before Seokjin sends a series of reassuring follow up texts, almost as though he read your mind and all it's reluctant thoughts.

09:32, unknown: — don't worry so much this is just to make people think we're really seeing each ohter — other* — hurry, can't have people thinking my future wife isn't punctual — doesn't look good for the reputation 😎

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck!

This is actually happening. How did you manage to get roped into some rich dudes family drama and his consequent plan of deception? And why on earth you fly out of bed, desperately trying to pat down your fly away bed hair while simultaneously shrugging on a pair of jeans is utterly beyond you.

But deep down you know why. It's because you have a sympathy for Seokjin. A goddamn sympathy for the man who seemingly had everything and who every other resident at Paradise wished they could be.

You are increasingly aware of the way your heart hammers against your rib cage, pulse quickening with every tick of the clock that brings you closer to 10 o clock. Not because you're about to see Seokjin again, surely?

Pfft. Of course not! This is just a favour - a formality as an acquaintance if you could even call yourself that.

The clock ticks over to 09:40. No, you promise yourself as you scoop up your bag and your keys. It's doesn’t mean anything, it’s just because you hate being late.

You end up being late anyway, despite rushing to Paradise from your nearby apartment without so much as considering breakfast and somehow managing to gather the courage to open the door to the women's locker room.

Embarrassment pools in your stomach when you feel the quizzical eyes of Paradise regulars burning into your back over the edges of their martini glasses. It takes all your strength to pass by them with your eyes trained to your shoes, hoping to seem unbothered by their towel turbans and gossiping lips.

You’re unsure why you feel so out of place. It's not as if you are trespassing; they gave you a benefits card when you accepted the job, giving you access to some of the resort's facilities. Some would say it was generous, but it's not as if you ever had a chance to use them in between long kitchen shifts.

Luckily, you doubt there's a risk of them recognising you from the kitchen. The resort is mostly populated by younger club members and besides it's not as if they ever cared to study your face for long enough to commit it to memory.

Still, your casual sweater and jeans combo makes you stand out like a sore thumb in a room full of designer polo shirts and athletic wear and you can't suppress the sigh of relief that escapes you when you make it past a hoard of already merry day drinkers on their way to a hot yoga class in search of locker 16 as instructed by Seokjin.

Sure enough, a key sits snugly in the lock. When you open the metal door you find a tennis skirt with a matching polo shirt, both folded neatly beneath a pair of strikingly white sneakers.

You scoop the pile into your arms, surprised when a card flutters to the ground. You recognise the Paradise logo in the corner, an unfamiliar handwritten scrawl smudged across the front in black pen.

Put these on and meet me round the back of the range. I'll be waiting. - SJ

You roll your eyes. Would it kill him to say please? Not that he is used to asking nicely. Manners are few and far between when things are handed to you on a silver platter (or by an underpaid kid with a summer job). At least that's what you gathered from your observations since you got here.

You slip into the white ensemble, silently thanking the you from yesterday for shaving your legs when you notice just how uncomfortably short the skirt is. The fabric smells like one of those expensive perfumes you sprayed at the store once and you briefly wonder who these clothes belong to.

Fastening your hair into a high pony tail like you see the other girls here do, you take a deep breath and finally sidle up to the full body mirror.

Almost everyone has filtered out of the locker room by now, some to spa appointments, others to sports matches and you find yourself alone, nearly choking on the humid air when you take in your appearance for the first time.

You look like you belong here.

Collar popped around your neck, skirt falling in perfect pleats around your waist, hair falling against your cheekbones. Not a speck of dirt on the branded shoes cushioning your soles.

For a moment you feel a sense of pride fill your chest, head resting high on your shoulders as you bask in the confidence that washes over you until you feel giddy with belonging.

Until you remember what you really are. An imposter.

Despite your Paradise inspired appearance you are nothing but a fake. A smudge on one of the picture perfect Paradise postcard's in the gift shop.

Your shoulders deflate, the sudden urge to tug your sweater back on and run as fast as you can becoming overwhelming.

Your let yourself slump onto one of the plush couches, head falling into your hands. What are you doing here? Letting some guy dress you up like a doll and show you off to save his own ass?

Besides, his family would see through you as soon as you walked out there. After all a polished stone, although pretty, can never be a diamond. And these people know diamonds like the back of their hands.

Is it because he has the authority to fire you from the kitchen job you worked so hard to get? Or is it because somewhere deep inside you are curious to see what could be in this for you?

A vibration on the couch beside you draws you from your thoughts.

10:09, unknown: — where r u????? — you know where the range is right???

God, why didn't you just say no in the first place?

"Just get on with it," you tell yourself sternly. Meet his sister, smile politely and leave without owing Kim Seokjin a single thing.

You will save his ass, buy him the time he needs to convince his parents to get off his back. And then you can go back to your culinary uniform and back to serving up lobster to rich people and you can forget this ever happened and that he so much as exists.

With a shaky breath you get to your feet, throwing your familiar clothes into the locker along with your comfort zone and what feels like your entire identity.

If this is going to work you couldn't think like Y/N, you realise. You have to think like a Paradise country club member. And luckily for you, your careful observation of other residents from the kitchen gives you quite a lot of material to work with.

Before you can second guess yourself you're taking a deep breath and striding out of the locker room door and into the sunny resort grounds.

Oh god. I'm really doing this. You suddenly feel exposed as you pass the golf court, just managing to dodge a rattling cart before it flattened you.

A pair of girls stroll past with arms interlinked, tennis rackets swinging at their sides leisurely as they make their way to the course.

Oh god. They're gonna see through you. Oh god. Just smile!

You let the corners of your mouth curve up into the closest thing to a smile you can muster, pleased when you earn a friendly nod in greeting before they dive back into their conversation again.

Nobody is noticing. You hold your head high, telling your shoulders to relax and look natural. You can do this.

You reach the range but instead of following the group of middle aged men ahead of you up to the front entrance, you slip round the back. Your eyes land on him instantly; none other than Kim Seokjin, leaning impatiently against the wall, just like he said he would be.

His appearance is enough to have you faltering in your tracks. Unlike the last time you saw him when he donned a much less flattering eye sore of a Hawaiian shirt, he's put together from head to toe - white button up tucked into a pair of tailored trousers, brown loafers showing off his ankles, the whole outfit finished off by a knit sweater tied around his shoulders.

"Wow." You can't help it. You're starting to see why he had a reputation for being particularly easy on the eye.

You swallow thickly, shaking the stunned feeling from your head and ignoring the way your heart beats a little faster the closer you draw to him.

"Finally!" Seokjin hums as he lets out a frustrated huff, eyes glued to the Rolex on his wrist. "Where have you been-"

His breath hitches when he finally looks up and takes you in for the first time. You were surely imagining the way his eyes widen and look you up and down. Right?

"Well well," Seokjin regains his self control quickly, licking his lips. "Someone scrubs up well."

Smartass. "To my credit you've only ever seen me in my work clothes."

"Touché." He purses his lips. "Nobody could make those hats look good. Except me, obviously."

There is that glint in his eye again. As if he is messing with you to get you riled up again. If he wasn't the Kim Seokjin you'd mistake him as flirtatious.

You hug your torso, confidence dwindling with every second you stand beneath Seokjin's probing gaze, anxious to get out onto the range before it dissipates completely. "So? Are we just gonna stand here?"

"You turn up late and then have the audacity to order me around?" His eyebrows furrow and for a second you think he's going to warn you. Remind you who has the power here.

But then his face breaks out into an amused smirk and you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. "Remember when I said I think you and I are going to get along just fine?"

Seokjin slings his hands into his pockets, striding towards the back door of the facility. He shakes the handle before using his key card to let you both into the archery equipment lodge.

You trail behind him. "Don't get too comfortable," You warn. "This is a one time thing."

Seokjin muses over a selection of crossbows in display cases before fishing in his pocket for a key, unlocking the glass and taking down two flashy ones. He grabs a quiver loaded with arrows from a stand and thrusts both into your arms without warning.

"Sure." He is slinging a quiver over his own shoulder now. He holds open the door to the archery range, gesturing for you to go first. So now he has manners? "If you say so."

The archery range is an expanse of perfectly pruned green grass, surrounded by the breathtaking scenery of fragrant rose bushes and trailing ivy that the resort boasts. And, as you're learning, an excuse for refreshments, as you find yourself now in a fancy veranda bar with high arching windows that overlook the distant targets, serving chilled lemonade and Prosecco and appetisers on fancy napkins.

"Pretty cool, right?" Seokjin asks, resting his elbows on the windowsill and smirking at your speechlessness and open mouthed expression. "But quit looking so surprised, yeah? You gotta make my sister think this is normal for you."

You don't have time to ask what he means before you are being spun around and engulfed in a hug. You freeze, sucking in a breath of surprise, the sickly smell of fancy shampoo engulfing your senses as your face is pushed into a head of perfect ringlets.

"You must be Y/N." The person, a woman, purrs into your ear. "It's good to finally meet you." The way she draws out the word makes you nervous.

This is Seokjin's sister?

Something about it doesn't feel how a hug is supposed to. Instead it feels like a silent interrogation. Are you good enough to be one of us? Nothing about it is warm. Instead it's sticky, your hands patting her back awkwardly, counting the seconds in your head until it is acceptable to pull away from her stiff hold.

When she lets go you are met with the tight lipped smile of a pretty twenty something, eyes scanning your face from beneath a sun visor. A customised hot pink quiver drapes across her shoulder and you notice the way she eyes your borrowed equipment distastefully.

"That would be me." You force a smile that ends up being a little too wide, glancing nervously at Seokjin who simply nods in encouragement. "It's good to...finally meet you too?"

She holds you at arms length, giving you a once over before speaking tightly. "Well aren't you a doll?"

You must look as terrified as you feel because her eyebrows raise triumphantly. Seokjin senses the tension. He looks between the two of you almost worriedly, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. For a second you think his concern is kind of sweet...No! Not allowed.

"No hug for me?" Seokjin swoops in and his sister's features harden at his sarcastic tone, a punch landing on his shoulder which he pretends to rub better, emitting a small ow!

"You're late."

"Sorry Hyejin, couldn't find my best shoes." Seokjin throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you from her grasp a little protectively and flashing an award winning smile that makes your heart flip...No! Definitely not allowed.

"Those are your best shoes?" She grimaces, shaking her head with an air of disappointment. "You left me waiting here for half an hour for those?" Her eyes narrow at you accusingly, as if she knows the truth and wants you to offer an apology.

Seokjin is quick to save you again. "Yup. All my fault. Shall we shoot?"

"Gladly." She smooths down a stray curl, studying her reflection in the glass windows. "I've been itching to see Y/N's aim since I got here. I hear you are a pro, no?"

You choke. A pro?

Luckily she's already stalking across the deck in her click-clacking wedges and out onto the damp green grass, missing the panicked glance shared between yourself and Seokjin.

"Uh-"

"Um-"

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. Think of something, he mouths.

She stops dead, shooting a puzzled glance over her shoulder. "Well are you?"

"Not exactly-" You start.

"I think you're thinking of one of the other...candidates, Hyejin." Seokjin says carefully. He places his palm at the small of your back. The gesture was probably just for show but it comforts you none the less.

"I'm sure she's just being modest." She says to Seokjin, but she's looking right at you. Her forefinger taps against her palm and you can almost see the puzzle pieces falling together in her head before her expression smooths out and you let out a sigh of relief. "So. Shall we?"

Seokjin nods sheepishly. Hyejin slings an arrow into her bow with the ease of an expert, Seokjin quickly following suit. And it is in that moment, as you watch them shoot equally as precise shots to the centre of their respective targets, that it dawns on you. You have never shot a bow and arrow in your life.

"Let's see just how good you are." Hyejin steps back, offering you the main stage. You squint at the targets in the far distance, the rings blurring into one. How on earth did they make hitting those things look so easy?

"Sure thing." You wince at the strain in your voice as you fumble to pull an arrow from your quiver, fingers shaking as you try to sling it into the bow.

You can do this..

You lift the bow, close your eyes and hope for the best when you let go of the arrow, watching as it flies a short distance before sticking upright in the dirt just short of the target.

Cheeks scarlet, you glance at Hyejin who looks positively horrified. "When you said not exactly good I wasn't expecting you to be so...inexperienced. No personal trainer?" She muses, eyeing you quizzically, to which you shoot her an embarrassed smile in confirmation. "Anybody would think it was your first time!" You sheepishly giggle along to the hearty chuckle she enjoys at the mere thought, spluttering when her face suddenly darkens "It's not right?"

You freeze. "Uhhh..."

"It's just nerves," Seokjin insists, palms clamping your shoulders and thrusting you forward again. "She's probably just shitting it because you're watching."

"Language!" Hyejin scolds, letting the roll of Seokjin's eyes slip when she sees you fiddling with another arrow.

This time you prepare the bow with ease, a bout of confidence washing over you as you make eye contact with Seokjin over the top of the bow you raise to your shoulder. His eyes soften slightly and he offers an encouraging nod as you squint at the target and shoot the arrow straight into the centre ring.

You're momentarily shocked at your own abilities before Seokjin is letting out a genuinely impressed hoot, his hand coming between you to offer a sly high five unbeknownst to Hyejin. A silent congratulations for not completely fucking up.

"Pretty good." Hyejin nods, looking genuinely impressed, and you give yourself a silent pat on the back.

Holy shit. This is really working! She believes you belong here!

"Although I'm not sure where father got the idea of professional from with that technique," She lowered her voice, clearly only intending for Seokjin to hear the last part despite you standing beside her. "I must admit her figure seems better suited to tennis anyway..."

Or not. Maybe you still have some work to do...

Hyejin seems in a hurry to get to the next target, and Seokjin hangs back to whisper in your ear before you follow.

"Congrats," He hums with a smirk. "You fit right in. Welcome to Paradise, Y/N."

The next forty five minutes pass quicker than you expect.

"— and I said, 'How could you seat the Jeon's next to the Jung's when you know they're feuding about the business contract'?" Hyejin exclaims. "Scandalous."

"Scandalous." You reply with a bored attempt at enthusiasm, raising your eyebrows at Seokjin over the rim of your glass as you sip cloudy lemonade through a straw. To his credit he looks equally as exhausted with Hyejin's spiel, shaking his knee impatiently as he itches for an opportunity to pounce.

As Hyejin continues to make mildly interrogative small talk and you find it increasingly easier to think on the spot when she asks about your family's (imaginary) dynasty and the university degree in economics you (supposedly) possess, you start to feel more comfortable. But Seokjin still refuses to loosen the arm resting around your shoulders keeping you planted by his side all afternoon, as if he is nervous his sister might swoop down like a bird and take you away at any moment, like a toddler with a toy.

That's why when she suggests a trip to the little girls room to powder your noses, Seokjin throws you a reluctant look. He protests at first when you readily agree (hoping to splash some cold water on your face to cool the constant burn that seems to have settled into your every pore) and he still looks concerned, knee bouncing nervously, when you peel yourself away from his body and disappear into the bar a few steps behind Hyejin who doesn't seem interested in side by side small talk.

In fact, you use the bathroom in silence and she doesn't speak another word until you catch her gaze in the mirror as she emerges from a cubicle behind you.

"You might have my little brother fooled but I see right through you, you know." She sets down her cosmetics bag on the sink, retrieving an expensive tube of lipstick and swiping the pinkish colour over her lips nonchalantly.

The tap stops running over your soaped up hands as you try to curb the nausea her words induce. Does she know who you are? Who you really are?

Despite the shake to your voice you try to play it cool. "W-what do you mean?"

Hyejin's laugh is small and tight, nothing about it humorous at all. Her eyes never leave her reflection, fluffing up her curls with an air of superiority. "I see through parasites like you straight away."

Your mouth falls agape with astonishment. "Parasites?"

"You should know that I have people all over this place who will find out exactly why you came here." For the first time she turns to look you dead in the eye, a bitter smile lacing her lips smugly. She is eye level but it feels like she is towering above you. "What is it you want? Money?"

"No I—"

"Just wait." Hyejin slings her bag over her shoulder triumphantly, voice getting smaller as her heels click across the tiles to the door. She pauses, poking her head back into the room as if burdened with an after thought. "You could do with some more mascara, by the way, darling. Would make you look much prettier."

And then she's gone, leaving you to watch her hips swaying into the distance with hands dripping dry onto the ground.

By the time you calm your nerves enough to emerge from the bathroom looking semi-confident, Hyejin is already ordering another drink and Seokjin is straining his neck to search for you anxiously.

Even from a few meters away you can see the way he sighs with relief when he spots you approaching. It didn't last for long though as he must notice the slightly reddened rings around yours eyes that weren't there before and before you can give him a watery smile in greeting, he is on his feet.

"What happened?"

You bite your lip. "Seokjin, I think I need to go."

"I knew this would happen. Did she try and get in your head?" You nod and his face darkens. "I was an idiot bringing you here."

"It's fine, I shouldn't have agreed, you stay and I'll just go—"

"Right!" Seokjin makes a show of slapping his palms to his knees, practically jumping to his feet and dragging you up with him by your elbow, only a hare away from spilling the drink in your hands. "Sorry to cut this short but I think it's time for Y/N and I to be going."

Hyejin looks positively furious at the suggestion of saying goodbye, gesturing towards the bucket of ice in the centre of the table you had inhabited after your arms began to hurt from holding the archery bow. "But we haven't even opened the Champagne yet, Jin-"

"Oh I don't day drink." You wave her off, biting your lip with instant regret when you see how her face hardens.

"Sorry Hyejin but there really just isn't enough time," Seokjin insists, reaching for your bag to save you the trouble, slinging it across your shoulder and pushing you by the shoulders towards the exit. It's not like you have a choice in the matter but you have to admit you are relieved the whole fiasco is finished. "Send my best wishes to Wonho and Minhye!"

"Minhyuk." Hyejin splutters as she staggers to her feet, chair scraping obscenely. "Your nephew's name is Minhyuk!"

"Good to know!" Seokjin calls over his shoulder, already speed walking into the lobby before you can make out her response.

When Seokjin decides there is enough distance between you and the range he drops his arm from where it drapes around your shoulders. You didn't realise it was there until it was already gone, a cold emptiness settling over you. Why had it felt so natural?

He lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Thank god that's over with. I thought she would never stop talking."

You snort in agreement. "I've never told so many lies in my life."

"I find that hard to believe." Seokjin smirks when you slap his arm playfully. "It came too easily to you."

"It's your fault! Your deceptive ways are rubbing off on me!"

"Deceptive ways?" Seokjin splutters, a genuine laugh spilling from his lips. Heartier and much different to the strained chuckles he's been giving Hyejin all day. You decide by the way your heart lurches that you like it much better. "I'll have you know I never lie."

"You're joking right?" Surely he is aware that it was him that roped you into this identity fraud master plan in the first place? The smirk on his face says yes. It's your turn to laugh, mimicking his earlier tone. "I find that hard to believe."

"Then ask me a question and I'll tell you the honest truth and nothing but the truth."

"Uhh okay?" You pause, mulling over all the questions you really want to ask. Why did you choose me? Does this make us friends? Are you gonna look through me again at the restaurant when this whole thing is over? Before you sheepishly settle on something more appropriate.

"How much is the resort worth? It must be a lot if you would go to all this...trouble."

"Five hundred."

"Five hundred thousand?"

"You're coy. Of course not." He chuckles. "Million."

Oh. Well now everything makes sense.

"Come on, ask me another." Seokjin bumps his shoulder against yours playfully, hair falling in his eyes that you’re desperate to push away. Your cheeks burn. "What's on your mind, kitchen girl?"

Don't say it...don't say it...

"D-did your sister hate me?"

Too late. The question slips out before you can stop it and you slap a hand over your mouth in shock.

He narrows his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

Why do you want to know? It's not like any of this really mattered - it wasn't real after all. So why does your stomach twist when you remember the spiteful way Hyejin spoke to you?

You flash a sheepish smile. "J-just interested."

Your ego was just bruised that's all. It was natural to feel bad when someone didn't like you, right?

"Then yes."

Oh.

Your chest clenches for no reason. Maybe he really never lies after all, huh?

Seokjin must notice the way you pout. "It's not personal! That's just how she is. Honestly, out of all the candidates so far you're the one she hated the least..."

You snort. "Good to know?"

You come to a stop outside the locker room doors. You don't know what to say - what is left? Goodbye? Thank you?

You're probably never going to speak to him again, true; but goodbye feels too formal. Too real. Instead you stay quiet, the sound of cicadas and balls hitting racquets filling the silence as Seokjin’s chocolate brown eyes make you weak at the knees when they darken, his body drawing ever closer to yours.

"Aren't you gonna ask how I plan on repaying you?"

Seokjin's fingers wrap around your elbow before you can slip away and you gasp at how his skin burns yours. You swallow thickly. The light bounces off his face dazzlingly and you have to admit he looks good right now, with his shirt unbuttoned lazily and his bitten lips inches from yours.

"I-I forgot about that." You admit. Sure you had been uptight about this whole idea initially but you couldn't deny the fact that today had been kinda fun. Did you really need a reward? Maybe you'd got a little lost in pretending to be someone else. So what?

"Well," Seokjin draws closer until your back presses against the wall, his breath hot next to your ear. "I have something in mind."

Your pulse quickens when you feel his hand rest upon your hip, the rise and fall of his chest so close that you get tingles down your spine.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "W-what is it?"

His chuckle is warm against your sensitive neck and you shudder when his lips ghost over your skin, so so close. "Can I show you?"

"Sure." You breathe.

And then he takes you by the chin, lining up your mouths and crashing them together in a hot tangle of tongue and teeth, his chapped lips moving against yours with an urgency. Your arms snake around his neck, tangling in the hair at his nape and pulling him into you with a thump.

Before your eyes can flutter shut and your heart can get lost in the feeling of his teeth pulling at your bottom lip and the taste of sour lemonade that still lingers on his tongue, Seokjin pulls back with a smirk, eyes dropping to your parted lips and then back to your blown out eyes with a satisfaction.

He runs a knuckle down your cheek. You feel your legs weaken. "I want you."

The huskiness in his voice makes your head spin, chest burning with the desire to connect your lips again. But you resist.

"Why?" You squeeze your eyes shut, head lolling back against the wall to avoid his gaze, embarrassed at how shaky your voice sounds after one kiss. God, you're weak. "Why me?"

"Like I said," Seokjin's fingers trace down your sides, eyes darkening when he notices the way the light touch makes you shiver under him. "I want you. Have since I first saw you."

He wants you? What about all those other girls, the ones he sent running? The ones who were much more suited to him than you would ever be?

"So what?" You scoff, biting your lip to stop a needy gasp when he presses a bold kiss to your jaw. "Want to add me to the list of girls who — mmf — w-who you seduced?"

He pauses, lips pressed against your burning skin for a little longer while he registers your words. "Maybe." He resumes his earlier actions, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "Is that so bad?"

"I can't do this." You bite your lip. This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't intending on letting Seokjin get to you, didn't mean to become a mark in his black book or a notch in his bed post.

"Why not?" He presses his forehead to yours. Your breath hitches and you will the warm tingle in your stomach to go away. "I saw you checking me out on the range."

The way he grins tells you that you hadn't been so subtle after all.

"And besides," Seokjin grips your ass through your skirt, making you gasp to his satisfaction. "This way, I get to pay you back and have some fun of my own."

"H-how?" You can feel yourself slipping. Into his touch, into his words.

"By making you cum." That had your panties damp and he knew it, the heat between your legs distracting you from the way he groans against your lips when your hips buck into him involuntarily.

It's like he knows what you need, slotting his leg between your own and putting pressure on the growing ache in your core. "I know you want this too."

He's right, the way the cotton of your panties has begun to cling to your folds a tell tale sign of your arousal. Seokjin knew exactly how to make you putty in his hands. Every teasing touch of his lips to your neck, every feather light trace of his fingers has him chuckling darkly when you melt into his body, unable to resist the way he makes your core ache needily for his touch.

"Come on, I can make you feel good." Your breath hitches when fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. "If I just lift this up..."

Oh god. If you don't stop now it'll be too late...

His hand slips beneath your skirt, pads of his fingers hooking your sodden panties to the side, the flash of cold air against your needy folds making you whine into the crook of his neck. "P-please."

You feel him smirk against your hair, speaking with a tone so sickly sweet you would've rolled your eyes if your clit wasn't already pulsating for his touch. "Please what?"

"Make me cum."

"I knew you would come round." He pulls back to face you, drinking in the expression on your face which you presume is utterly fucked out. You have to admit the way his own irises have darkened with what you recognise as lust makes your stomach leap in anticipation. "So desperate for me already hm?"

You whine, somewhat in confirmation, somewhat in frustration at his refusal to touch you even when you buck against his hand. "Please."

"I wouldn't have put you down as the begging type." His hand suddenly cups your heat, pads of his fingers circling your entrance teasingly. He lets out a choked groan when he feels your arousal. "This wet for me? Already?"

"What do you expect?" You stammer, squeezing his shoulders and holding back on the urge to buck against his palm again. "You've got your hand up my skirt."

"Mmm, I could just make you come undone right here." His eyes darken, tongue snaking out to wet his chapped lips hungrily. "Could easily fuck you out nice and slow with my fingers if I wanted to, hmm?" Seokjin has begun to circle your entrance teasingly, making you squirm every time he nearly slips inside.

"Fuck." Your eyes are squeezed shut, breathing already laboured despite him barely even touching you, just the thought of him filling you up getting you dangerously worked up. "I want you to."

"What was that?" Seokjin's lips curve up mischievously, one of his fingers nearly filling you up before he removes his hand and you groan with frustration. "Gotta use your words sweetheart."

Your heart thumps at the use of the pet name but you choose to ignore it, instead reaching between your bodies to clasp his wrist before it disappears completely. "Fuck me," you pant, eyes roaming his with desperation. His staunch gaze never falters. "Please, fuck me now."

Seokjin connects your swollen lips again, but not before mumbling against them gruffly. "Remember you asked for it."

Then, his free hand to spreads your legs, knee stopping them from closing as his other hand closes in on your aching core. The feeling of his digits running down your soaked slit has you panting and you feel your legs buckle when he pressed two of his lithe fingers into your heat without warning. You are dripping by now, hole accommodating the stretch and allowing his fingers to slip inside easily.

Your clit pulsates with need and you want to feel Seokjin everywhere, have him take you in any way he wants, momentarily lost to the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of your heat; until you remember that you have Seokjin's hand down your pants in broad daylight and anyone could walk by and see just how weak he makes you.

"Wait!" He halts his ministrations, raising a brow. "W-we can't, not here."

You mewl when his thumb ghosts across your swollen clit, touch light but enough to have you gasping into the crook of his neck.

"Let's take this inside, then." Before you can ask what he means his fingers disappear, leaving your hole clenching agonisingly around nothing again. He presses the arousal coated digits to your lips and you enjoy the way his jaw tightens as you eagerly take them into your hot mouth, humming when you taste yourself on your own tongue. "Fuck you'll drive me crazy if you keep this up."

You can tell you are getting to him, even if he is trying to hide it. The way his eyes roll back when you suck his fingers clean, how he bites his cheek to stop a lustful groan when his eyes dip between your bodies to your almost naked heat tells you all you needed to know.

He can't take it any longer.

Seokjin pulls his hand away with a wet pop, your throbbing heat protesting when he let your legs fall shut, linking his clammy hand with your own. "Come with me."

It takes a second to remember how to walk, letting him pull you behind him in your dizzy haze. His hand is warm in yours and your entire body aches to feel them on you again. It's already too late to hide your swollen lips and slightly mussed up hair before Seokjin drags you right into the men's locker room .

"Wait, we can't do it in here—"

"Everyone out!" Seokjin's voice bellows through the locker room, all its inhabitants pausing their ministrations to peer at you curiously.

You try to let go of Seokjin's hand to button up your shirt but he won't let you, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you hide behind him self consciously, knees knocking. "We need to use the locker room."

A groan erupts through the room, a chorus of again? permeating the sound of lockers slamming shut with frustration before one by one all the dudes in the locker room began to shuffle past you to the exit.

"Seokjin!" You hiss, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear angrily. "Now everyone knows!"

Seokjin's thumb rubs across your knuckles soothingly. "Who cares?"

You feel your cheeks flush hotly when a man you recognise from the restaurant, now wearing nothing but a towel, narrows his eyes in a knowing look. You willed the ground to swallow you up.

The sound of footsteps ceases, the door swings closed and finally you're alone.

"Better?" Seokjin turns to you expectantly.

"I can't believe you just did that!" You cover your face with your palms. "God how am I going to look any of them in the eyes again."

"They don't care." He soothes, your unamused expression not faltering still.

"Are you even allowed to do that? W-What if they tell someone—"

"They won't," Seokjin smirks. "They value their memberships here too much."

You bite your lip. "Maybe we shouldn't do this."

Seokjin rushes forward to cup your face in his palms reassuringly. The act feels a little too sincere and you nearly melt at the intimacy, resisting copying his motion by pinching your palm instead. "It's okay, seriously! They're just jealous that I get lucky more around here than any of the old bastards have in their entire lives."

"I don't believe you." Your words are muffled by his chest, his chuckle vibrating against your cheek.

"They're jealous because they'll never get this lucky."

"Huh?" Seokjin's hands slide down the small of your back to cup your ass, lifting your entire weight so that your legs wrap around his waist. You let out a giggle of surprise when his face comes into view, smirking up at you.

"Lucky enough to get someone as pretty as you underneath them."

There they are again, the butterflies in your stomach, the skip of a beat in your heart, a warmth spreading through your chest that feels too good to question right now. "Technically I'm above you." You mumble. "Besides they were all, like, fifty years old or something."

"Just shut up would you?" Seokjin stumbles forward, throwing you roughly onto one of the couches. The fabric feels like velvet when your nails clutch at it desperately, trying to hold on to whatever control you have left when Seokjin drops to his knees between your legs to hover over you. "And kiss me for fucks sake."

You oblige, pulling him by the collar to connect your lips in a kiss even more heated than before if that was even possible. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, begging for entrance and you sigh contentedly into the kiss when he pulls your face even closer with his palms.

"F-fuck." He pulls back with a pop, hands roaming along the tops of your thighs too teasingly for you to handle. By now you're so worked up that you just needed him to take you roughly, the thought of his cock pounding in and out of you making you moan when you feel his bulge brush your leg. God you want him more than you knew it was possible, the way your clit pulses at the thought of how good it would feel to come around him or better yet feel him come inside you overwhelming.

"Seokjin, p-please fuck me." You practically whine, letting your head fall against the couch cushion when his thumbs fiddle with the lace of your panties. "Wanna feel you inside me."

The sound that comes from his throat seems strangled. "Fuck, what did I say about driving me crazy?"

"Need you so bad," You rotate your hips to emphasise your desperation, the action providing you with no relief when his steel like grip prevents you from putting any pressure on your dripping folds. "Wanna cum for you."

You blink up at him through your lashes and you swear you see his adam's apple bob as he swallows a moan. He liked it when you provoked him, you could tell. His resolve is crumbling with every word out of your mouth.

"Please, I'm so wet." Fuck, you are. You can feel it dripping down your ass, probably making a mess of the couch below you. You hope it can be dry cleaned. "Just fuck me now—mmf!"

Seokjin shuts you up with a hard press of his lips to yours, the action conveying he's just as desperate as you, the way his hands trembled telling you he isn't as unaffected as he wants to appear.

His breathing is nearly as ragged as yours now. "You like riling me up don't you?"

He runs a shaky hand through his hair exasperatedly and you look up at him hopeful, willing him to touch you, kiss you, anything.

"I'm not going to fuck you."

Oh.

You stiffen beneath him, his words shocking you still.

He doesn't want you. Simple as that.

This was just another one of his games and you fell straight into it. You close your eyes and braced for him to start laughing. To point his finger and tell you how lame you are for ever thinking that someone like him could want someone like you.

Except nothing comes. Just the sound of your shaky breaths and a shower running nearby.

"Why?" Your voice is small now and you draw your knees to your chest, trying to hide as much from him as possible. "You don't want to?"

He looks dismayed at your suggestion, palms shooting out to push you back down and pull you back into his hold again.

"It's not that, Y/N." You let out a relieved breath, not fighting Seokjin when his forehead falls against your chest in defeat, heavy breaths ghosting across the tops of your breasts. You're sure he can feel the way your heart beats uncontrollably in your chest.

"Then why?" You bite your lip. You sound too needy, to whiny. Why do you even care if he wants you or not? This is a one off anyway.

"God, I want nothing more than to strip you and see you bounce on my cock right here"

Oh.

Seokjin's lips attach to your neck, sucking harshly like a man deprived, as though he can't hold back any longer. His hands roam everywhere they can reach, rubbing your breasts over your shirt before his fingers work on the buttons eagerly.

"S-Seokjin..."

"Would give anything to see you come undone on my cock. Bet you'd moan so pretty when I pound you, yeah?"

Truth be told you'd let him right now if he said the word, the thought of him stretching you out making you see stars before he has even properly touched you. Your core is hot and sticky against your panties while you clench around nothing while his every word makes you writhe to be filled. "Then w-why don't you?"

"Because there's plenty of time for that, princess." He flashes you a smile. Plenty of time? Why did he make it sound as if this wasn't a one time thing? As if you'd be back for more? "This is for you remember? Gotta pay you back."

You yelp when Seokjin lifts your ass, thumbs finally dragging your panties down your legs and throwing them behind him before he spreads your legs with a hunger. "Let me taste you, hm?"

Seokjin pushes your skirt around your waist, exposing your core to his hungry eyes, drinking in how you look all spread out for him. Just the sight of him so close to your dripping heat makes the coil in your stomach tighten and you're sure you could cum just from the way his lips part in anticipation.

He looks up at you for confirmation, smirking when you nod your head before falling back against the couch weakly when he drags a finger down your slit teasingly, licking his lips when you mewl at the brief contact with your clit. "So pretty."

He sinks back against his heels, cheek warm against your inner thigh, hot breath caressing your clit. A moan escapes you at the feeling much to his amusement, his bruising grip on your thighs stopping you from bucking up. "Hurry up — mmf — please."

For the first time he listens to your request, skipping the teasing to run a long stripe up your soaking slit. Seokjin groans against your clit and you quiver, his staggered breaths hot against your dripping folds. "Taste so good, sweetheart."

"S-Seokjin," Hands spread your legs as far as they cN go and then plump lips engulf your clit, sucking with a perfect harshness that makes your legs shake and your head fall back with a gasp, hands tangling in his blonde locks tightly enough to have him groaning blissfully. "Fingers!"

The breathiness of your voice makes him chuckle against your heat, vibrations enough to have your knees straining to close around his head, the pressure between them almost too much. "What was that?"

"Fingers," You reiterate, aware of how fucked out you soundjust from feeling his tongue on your clit, every teasing flick making your entrance pulse. "Inside me, now."

"No please?" The drag of Seokjin's flat tongue down your slit to prod at your hole is sinful, the way he took to fucking you with his tongue teasingly drawing small whimpers from your lips. It's mesmerising how he knows just how to make you fall apart.

"P-please!"

The gentle brush of his nose against your clit nearly has you coming on the spot. "Turn over." He growls against your mound. An arm wraps around your waist and before you can protest his mouth leaving your heat, you are being flipped onto your hands and knees, Seokjin's palm pushing your head down against your forearms so that your ass comes up for his viewing pleasure. "That's more like it."

"F-fuck." It feels dirty being on display for him like this, dripping wet and wiggling your hips, desperate for friction against your spread folds. Pressing your cheek to the couch, you catch a glimpse of Seokjin's expression as he takes you in, eyes black with desire, lips still coated in your sticky arousal.

"Shit." His breath hitches. "Such a pretty pussy, hm?"

It's your turn to take a shaky inhale when a single finger circles your entrance, Seokjin humming approvingly when you clench hopelessly around nothing. Knowing you are so close to being filled even with a single finger gets you panting, circling your hips and trying to sink down onto the digit that smears your wetness through your folds lewdly. Seokjin pulls his hand away with a click of his tongue.

"That desperate to be filled, baby?" His tone is taunting, followed by a chuckle when you whine at the way his words make your clit throb. "Fuck, such a slut, dripping wet for just my fingers."

He reaches around to press the pad of his finger against your lips and you suck it instinctively, humming when you taste yourself, some of your sticky arousal smearing on your chin. Seokjin's head rolls back, the visual practically sending him into sensory overload.

"Such a slut," A loud slap fills the room, a palm landing flat against your upturned ass, the sensation making you cry out in surprise. His breath is hot and ragged against your ear. "You like that?"

Despite the embarrassed shake of your head another smack lands to the flesh of your other cheek with enough force to leave a mark this time. It stings when he rubs his calloused hands over the reddening skin that is now burning hot where it collided with his palm but the pain quickly dissipates to pleasure and you bite your hand to stop from moaning out too lewdly. "Use your words, princess."

"Seokjin!" You can't hold back from whining his name when his palm lands straight on your heat, the sharp pain a somehow welcome relief when he instantly rubbed a few soothing circles into your folds with the pads of his fingers, each graze of your clit making your legs shake uncontrollably. "I-I need more."

"This?" Without warning he presses two fingers into your pussy, entrance squeezing around him wildly at the pleasant stretch. Every flick of his wrist permeates through the locker room with a loud squelch, testament of just how worked up you were.

"Ugh!" Every drag of his fingers against your velvety walls has your eyes rolling back, the way he curls the digits with every thrust hitting your sweet spot perfectly, like he knew exactly how to drive you crazy. "S-so good."

You are starting to get out of breath, meeting his thrusts by rocking back against his hand and this time he doesn't protest, encouraging you by kneading the flesh of your ass and groaning in time with the sharp gasps leaving your lips each time the heel of his hand brushes your swollen clit.

"Think you can cum again with just my fingers, baby?" The way you clench around around his digits is a tell tale sign that your second high is close. Just his words alone nearly make you fall over the edge, words slurred as you try to focus on anything other than the unrelenting pulse between your legs.

"N-need more." You sound utterly fucked out, eyes squeezed shut and lost to the feeling of being filled but the stretch isn't quite enough and you need more to tip you over the edge. "Another one."

Seokjin lines up a third finger with your entrance, the ring on his finger cold against your hot walls as he slides it in beside the others at an agonisingly slow pace; to allow you to adjust to the stretch or to taunt you can't tell. By the time he gets to his knuckles your body is wracked with laboured breaths, quivering knees barely able to hold your weight as you bite the inside of your cheeks to curb a string of whines at being finally filled.

Of course, his fingers weren't as good as the real thing and you wonder how he is able to control himself when your mouth waters at the thought of feeling him inside of you instead of his hand.

The room is still a little humid from the showers, a layer of sweat glistening across your skin as you chase your high with determination, the stickiness between your legs dripping down Seokjin's wrist and making him tut, the click of his tongue heightening the sensation.

"That's it, cum for me." The authority lacing his tone tips you over the edge, another smack stinging your ass as you bury your face in the couch with a cry, the feeling of his fingers pumping you through your high almost too much to bare but as soon as they are ripped away and you're left clenching around nothing you miss the feeling of being full.

"So pretty when you cum." Seokjin murmurs. Under normal circumstances you would have been embarrassed, self conscious even with your ass up for anyone to see, release leaking on to the couch, but you're too fucked out to care about anything m, barely able to register Seokjin's new found gentleness as he flips you onto your back and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear while you focus on returning your breathing back to a normal pace.

"Holy shit." The beat of your heart seemsdeafening in your ears, the only other sound you can comprehend being Seokjin's own ragged breathing.

"Fuck, I nearly just came in my pants." When you manage to turn your head he is staring straight at you with disbelief, eyes travelling to your swollen lips. "I'm going to jerk off to this image forever."

"Me too." You murmur honestly.

Your lids fall shut in post orgasm bliss, not expecting the incoming peck Seokjin presses to your parted lips. It is barely a kiss, plump flesh of his lips brushing yours for less than a second but a funny warmth spreads through your chest at the gesture. Seokjin seems as surprised as you, as if he can't quite believe he just did that, shuffling to the other side of the couch to put some distance between you.

"You should uh, get dressed." He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly and turning away to give you some privacy, as if he hadn't just had his head between your legs just a moment ago.

His behaviour, albeit kind of strange, makes you smirk and you decide it won't hurt to tease. "Well, at least now we're even."

Seokjin bites his lip when he turns around to find your skirt back around your thighs, overcome with a new confidence, sauntering over and palming your ass like he owns it. "Nope, not getting away that easily. I think you'll find I made you cum twice. So now you owe me. Again."

"And what do I owe you this time, Kim Seokjin?" You place your hands on his chest, no instinct to push him away for some reason. "Golfing with your brother up next?"

"No," He scoffs. "My brother wouldn't be caught dead with a club."

"Then what?"

You notice the glint in his eye again, the one you are starting to crave. "Let me get to know you."

"Isn't that what you did today?"

He shakes his head. "The real you."

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #smutcentralnet #bangtanarmynet #ksmutclub #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin imagine #seokjin scenario #jin imagine #jin scenario #bts fanfiction #bts fic #fic: better with you

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haloshornsinkstains · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Lord Diavolo

Just something short I wrote featuring my MC Kore (she/her) for Diavolo’s birthday.

(as an aside, sorry I haven’t been writing much lately. Not sure what’s wrong with me but my brain is uncooperative)

“Kore? May I borrow you for a moment?” The human turned, smoothing down her dress as she flashed him a bright smile. “Of course Di- Lord Diavolo! You hardly have to ask, it is your birthday.” He held out his arm and Kore slipped hers into the crook of his elbow, pressing herself against his arm as they maneuvered through the crowd. Behind them she heard Mammon shouting something, shaking her head Kore sighed, shooting a warning look over her shoulder. Diavolo chuckled, pushing his way through a side door and slipping away from the party, human exchange student in tow. “So, what did you need me for Dia?” He flushed a little. “Ah, well honestly I was just hoping to spend some time alone with you.” Kore smiled, her own cheeks going a pretty shade of pink. “Oh, well in that case I’m honoured. I’m more than happy to spend time with you. And it gives me and opportunity to,” she rifled through the small purse at her side, “ah! Here it is! I can give you this.” Diavolo took the small, neatly wrapped object from her hands, turning it over with a questioning look. “What is…?” “It’s a birthday present of course!” Kore beamed. “I know I gave you that pin before with the boys, but I arranged this in secret and I wanted to give it to you in private. You’re a difficult man to buy presents for you know.” “Ahaha, I’m sorry. But you know I appreciate anything you give me Kore.” He beamed back, carefully turning the parcel back over so the tape was facing him. “May I open it now?” “That was the point Dia.” Kore laughed. “I think that is my favourite thing about you Kore.” He hummed, carefully thumbing at the tape that held the paper together. “Hmm?” “You don’t stand on ceremony with me, you treat me like a normal person these days.” His voice was soft, eyes sparkling with joy. “As long as Lucifer isn’t around.” Kore laughed. “He still gets a twitch if I don’t refer to you as Lord Diavolo.” “Ah, yes. I do think he’s loosened up a little thanks to your influence though. He’s much less formal with me in private, but don’t tell him I said that.” He nudged her conspiratorially with his elbow. “I suppose I should open this now.” “Please?” Carefully he peeled away the tape, unfolding the paper until the small book rested in his palm. Slowly he opened it, his eyes lighting up as he flipped through the pages. Kore fidgeted nervously, hands smoothing down invisible wrinkles in her dress. “Kore, this is…” “Do you like it?” Her voice wavered, eyes flicking between the book and his face. “It’s wonderful! How did you get so many pictures?” He grinned, pausing in his flip through. “Oh, I really like this one! Is this from Christmas?” “Last New Years. It’s the one that got taken off Devilgram almost as soon as Barbatos spotted it.” She laughed. “It’s one of my favourites.” “Ah yes, I remember that night. How did you even find so many pictures?” “A lot of them were on my D.D.D, but I asked a few of the others if they had any. I thought… well, I know how much you like pictures, and I thought something like this would be nice for you to have if I have to leave again. There’s some human world trivia in there as well, and some memories. I kind of hoped you might be able to add to it?” “An excellent idea! Thank you, this is a truly wonderful gift!” “Happy Birthday Dia.” Kore smiled, reaching up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips, one Diavolo deepened with his hand around her waist until they pulled back both flushed and Kore a little breathless. “I wish I could steal you away with me.” Diavolo sighed. Flushed Kore pressed another soft kiss to his cheek. “Maybe after the party, for now we should get back before anyone realises we’re missing.”

#halo.writes #obey me #Kore's Adventures in Devildom #female mc #Diavolo

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years

Note

Tommy doesn’t know who Queen is and Steve goes on a quest to get Tommy to listen to all different types of music. Billy gets dragged into the shenanigans. The three of them start hanging out together when Steve falls asleep, but he has a super bad nightmare. (I think they were probably drinking or smoking weed or both before. Which made the nightmare worse.) Then comes cuddling with Tommy choosing the music and light teasing.

i love this so much. they’re all musically ignorant in one way or another anyway. lemme just sprint with this now :)

---

He was just trying to get his history books, it wasn't his fault that their lockers were right next to each other. Or that Tommy was apparently living under a heavy rock.

“I’ve never heard of Queen, unless you’re talking about the Queen of England or some shit. Other than that, I’m at a loss.” Tommy was yapping to one of Carol’s friends. Sarah? Betty? They all looked the same honestly.

“What do you mean you’ve never heard of Queen?” Steve hadn’t actually really meant to just start abruptly start speaking to Tommy again, but here they were. In the hallway. Around nosey onlookers. And Sarah-Betty who was definitely staring and definitely not happy for the intrusion.

Tommy grinned boyishly, “Talkin’ to me again, Harrington?”

Steve didn’t let up, “You haven’t heard of Queen? Freddie Mercury? Brian May? They’ve been all over the radio for years, man.” Tommy died down a little with the snarky attitude, but the flare was still there through the dilution.

“I don’t know, Harrington. Guess I have too many people around to pay attention to the radio much anymore.” Tommy crossed his arms and Steve almost gave up as the bilious emotions started up towards the boy again.

Steve shook his head, “Meet me at my house tonight at 6. I’ll order in and I’ll show you myself what Queen is. ‘Kay, Tom?” Now that really took the other aback.

“It’s been, what, a year?” Hands on his hips just as Steve was doing, “All of a sudden you’re interested again?”

Steve looked him in the eye and nodded, “Six o’clock on the dot, Tommy. Be there!” he pivoted on his heel and blended in the crowd.

He had the pizza box and the stereo up and ready to jam long before the bell rung. Only three minutes late. It was honestly a record for Tommy, Steve knew for a fact that Tommy had the worst time management skills. Which also made Steve a little on edge as he opened the door. He wasn’t actually that surprised to find Billy Hargrove right there beside Tommy. Both grinning in their own devilish manners.

Steve vamped them with the most unimpressed look he could produce and traveled back inside, “Well, come on!” he ordered impatiently.

Billy spoke up first as they entered the living area, “Nice place, very...” he seemed to contemplate a moment as he examined the vacant side tables and mantle, “Modern.”

“Tell me about it,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ll go get beer,” he started making his way towards the kitchen. “Pizza’s on the coffee table, don’t make a mess.”

When he returned there wasn’t any mess on the floors or furniture, but Tommy had enough sauce on the corners of his mouth and cheeks to slather a whole slice itself.

“Oh, Tommy,” he sighed and grabbed a napkin to clean the sauce before it dried. Billy and Tommy stared like owls but Steve ignored them and instead focused on putting the first cassette in. “Now listen, no one gets to speak.” He pointed to the table, “You have free food and drinks, so indulge me,” he took his own seat on the floor between them. A Night at the Opera.

“Well this is eerie,” Tommy griminced and bit into another slice. His face lifted a moment later as the song changed gears, “Oh wait, no I change my mind, this is cool.”

“Have you found a new toy to replace me? Can you face me? But now you can kiss my ass goodbye Feel good, are you satisfied?”

Steve looked at Tommy and found him already looking back.

Billy coughed, “Next, Pretty Boy?”

“Bicycling on every Wednesday evening Thursday, I go waltzing to the zoo”

Tommy swayed with the steady smoothness, “I like this one, I like it a lot.” Billy’s thigh brushed and planted against Steve’s shoulder as they watched Tommy tap along. The touch sizzled excitingly.

“I'm in love with my car Got a feel for my automobile Get a grip on my boy-racer rollbar Such a thrill when your radials squeal“

Tommy’s face pinched just a little, nose wrinkled cutely, ”I don’t know about this one. Sounds like a song Billy might appreciate a bit more. WIth Margo and all that.”

Tommy smiled at Billy and Steve felt something churn in is tummy, “Margo?” he tilted his head back so it rested on Billy’s knee in order to look at him.

Billy sighed and tilted his own head back to take a sip of the beer can he'd been working on, “It’s my car’s name, after my dog when I was a kid.” Steve shifted back so he was facing the stereo again after nodding once.

“Oh, you're the first one when things turn out bad You know I'll never be lonely You're my only one And I love the things I really love the things that you do“

Tommy immediately smiled at the opening and his foot made its way from nudging him happily to resting in Steve’s lap, “This one is my favorite.”

“Really?” Steve and Billy asked simultaneously. Steve turned his head painfully fast and they stared in mutual shock. They were quick to get over it though and both went back to waiting for Tommy’s decisive nod. His eyes were closed and calm in enjoyment. So, Steve forcefully settled whatever Billy had stirred and did the same, back rested against both boy’s shins comfortably.

“My sweet lady Though it seems like we wait forever Stay sweet, baby Believe and we've got everything we need“

“That one was...interesting,” Tommy commented.

Billy snorted as Steve smiled, “I’d say.”

“I feel like dancing in the rain Can I have a volunteer? Just keep right on dancing What a damn jolly good idea“

Tommy smiled sweetly through the that one, Steve felt as though he didn’t need to ask why.

“I dreamed I saw on a moonlit stair Spreading his hands on the multitude there A man who cried for a love gone stale And ice cold hearts of charity bare“

“How come they are so short and so long at random? It’s weird,” Tommy leaned forward and grabbed another beer, condensation dripping onto Steve’s bare knee.

“Sometimes things are more difficult to interpret,” Billy answered. Steve leaned a little more into them as he felt his hips settle.

“Oh, back, hurry back Please bring it back home to me Because you don't know what it means to me Love of my life“

“That was kinda sad,” Billy was the one to say something between the track then.

Steve agreed, “Yeah, a little.” He felt eyes on his head but gazed instead on the slight glow to the stereo.

“Take good care of what you've got My father said to me As he puffed his pipe and baby B. He dandled on his knee Don't fool with fools who'll turn away Keep all good company“

Steve felt a leg press firmer into his shoulder and he laid his head on it, above him Billy sighed just above being silent, “How was that one, Tom?”

Tommy didn’t answer for a moment, “I’m not sure. It sounded good.” The feet in Steve’s lap crossed themselves jitteringly.

“Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see, I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low“

“That one was freaky,” Tommy sat forward in awe, “But it was also awesome.” Eventually the last cord divvied out, all of them lazy with alcohol and sleepy with muddled calm that none of them had felt in a while. Although, Steve already was sleep on Billy’s knee. He didn’t get the chance to regret the beer he’d consumed before he was overrun with horrific, viney tunnels and humongous monsters. Screams of people he knew and cared for. Dustin, Nancy, his parents, Johnathon, El, Lucas. But what had him waking up in a bolt, yelping and screaming, was the one’s from Billy and Tommy. The pain those ones harbored, the ones that made Steve tremble too much to bare.

Heavy hands grasped his shoulders and softer ones held his face when he came to. He closed his mouth and the wailing stopped just as it had reached his ears.

“Steve! Steve- sh, it’s alright, Stevie,” Tommy’s voice filtered in subtly and he thought he heard a breeze from behind.

“We should get him to bed,” Billy said and the warmth from behind Steve was suddenly gone. He didn’t know what he must of done, was too out of it, but suddenly he was in someone's arms and being coddled.

“It’s okay, Pretty Boy, we’re still here.”

And then they were in a bed, and his room by the looks of the plaid and blue walls. He had two bodies on either side, and while the comfort he felt was something he couldn’t recognize. It was something new and he felt he should feel overwhelmed by all the sudden figures beside him. But instead he felt relieved and willingly open to allow these two boys in with limited hesitation. What a change in events. Truly.

“Talk to us, Stevie,” Tommy whispered in his ear.

“Have you heard of Blondie?” he whispered a bit hoarsely.

“No. Unless that’s Billy.”

“Add that to the list of things Tommy needs to learn about.” He got a slight tickle above his ribs in response from Billy. Steve held in his laugh as best he could but Billy didn’t stop the movement until he finally coughed out a yelp in protest. He tried his best to portray a steady glare in return but it didn’t quite work. “What about The Smiths?”

“Nadda.”

“Tears for Fears?”

“Mmm,” Tommy finally came into clear vision for Steve to see, even in the dark, “Maybe, maybe not.” He was grinning like the dumbass Steve knew he was. And then he was gone.

“Wah-?” he almost whined. Almost.

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” there was a clicking sound, “I’m just trying to culture you up a bit. Gotta keep you calm so we can actually get so sleep.” He laughed loudly when he seemingly found something. Tree branch arms coiled around Steve’s waist and he couldn’t be bothered to tell Billy off as the warmth radiated into his skin and heart.

Tommy came back while the Eurythmics, of all people, made some sort of soft noise through the room. And Tommy’s own hands somehow managed to sneak their way past Billy’s and just barely grazed his ass. The blanket bundled them all together and Steve felt as though he finally had the loves of his life in sight. That definite path made for him. Finally and just maybe.

send me headcannons!<3

#stranger things #asks #kegboys #steve harrington #billy hargrove #tommy h #tommy hagan #this sucks #but i’m tired so that’s like a partial excuse #thank you for the ask!#sorry it’s not the best

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Note

Hey jin could maybe do a continuation of don't remember. It makes my heart hurt. Love your writing!

So... This ended up long... I'll add a keep reading once I'm home. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this. Who knows, might end up making another chapter because I forgot how much I like this AU.

Song: I Found by Amber Run. I just. I'm making myself cry folks.

(Don't) Remember

-o-o-o-o-

(Don't) Break

-o-o-o-o-

Without of doubt, Zelda's favorite place in the entire realm of Hyrule is Kakariko Village. It's the only place where she can truly be herself. She steps within the boundaries and instantly, the diadem on her head is just a fashion statement. The ragtag soldiers traveling with her are just people, friends perhaps. She no longer has the task of rebuilding a government or excavating the castle or organizing towns and roads to be rebuilt.

She's just Zelda.

Just Zelda.

And it's a relief that takes the weight of a Lynel from her shoulders.

Impa is there to welcome her, even in her old age Zelda has no end to her respect for the woman. Paya always greets her with a warm hug and the various people and warriors in the village invite her for dinner or even offer her the spare bedrooms in their houses so she doesn't have to spend money at the inn—even though she has already been promised a free stay from Ollie, the innkeeper, whenever she so needed to.

This time, she decides to spend her stay with Paya while the soldiers traveling with her all get warm, soft beds at the inn, and she decides to let Koko cook dinner for her. She can honestly say that she's only had food as good as Koko's once before, but he doesn't often cook for her anymore.

Especially since he's off on some strange adventure that she has no true knowledge of.

And she can't help but feel a pang of anger and jealousy over that. Here's she's spent one hundred years holding back a demon just to immediately be thrown right back into royalty and business and chaos, while he gets to ditch the moment adventure calls for him.

And she shouldn't feel that way. But it's hard not to when he was supposed to be her best friend. He was supposed to be there with her and never leave her again. She was supposed to finally have someone to lean on, someone to trust, someone to—dare she say it—love?

But no. Link decided that he doesn't want to remember. And therefore, he doesn't want to remember her. His offer to rekindle friendship with her is honerable, but it still feels like whenever she's in his company he's a stranger. Nothing like the boy she knew.

Or maybe that's too harsh. She doesn't know. One things for sure though, this new version of him is just as familiar to her as the one who was simply her annoying Knight.

Which means not at all.

Because, while his offer to make friendship is honerable, that's all it is.

Honor.

A sense of duty.

There's not a whole lot of actual desire, and that hurts more than most anything.

However, she will not think about him now. He's off doing who knows what and she's here, sitting at a picnic table having a lovely conversation with Paya while Koko eagerly cooks something that certainly smells delicious. Cottla is there too, on occasion. She'll pop in and ask if dinner is ready yet and when answered no she'll go find something in the village to entertain herself for a little while longer.

Their father is set to join them in a little bit. Impa might even be strong enough to leave the house and join them on this fine evening. If not, Zelda will make sure to section off portions for her.

"-and then I looked up, and the cucco was right on top of the inn!" Paya exclaims, currently in the middle of a fascinating tale of hunting down ten rebellious cuccos.

Zelda laughs, bringing her hand to her mouth and resisting a snort. "How ever did you get it down?"

Paya sighs in exasperation, but a smile still graces her lips. "Well, it took a little work but-"

"Hey!" A voice squeals and both Zelda and Paya look up to see Cottla sprinting towards them with a toothy smile on her face that's about the size of a sliced of melon. "He's back! I just saw him! He's back and he brought others!"

"Who's back?" Koko asks, pausing her stirring in the cooking pot. She doesn't get an answer nor a chance to resume because Cottla grabs her sisters arms and begins to tug her away from her work. "Hey!"

"I just saw him! He just entered the village!" Cottla yells happily, dragging her sister away. Paya let's out a small laugh and stands up, looking curious and Zelda joins her after smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt.

"He's back he's back he's baaack!"

Then, a group of men fall into sight across the village. It's a rather large group, and Zelda's curiosity only spikes as they approach ever closer.

Then, Cottla yells out happily a name she wasn't expecting.

"LINK!"

Nine heads turn towards the child, yet only one approaches her, a tunic of blue on his chest and a cloak around his shoulders, long blonde hair bulled up into braids.

Paya stops in her tracks with a squeak, instantly blushing, while Zelda stops for a very different reason. She can almost feel herself pail as a familiar face bends down to embrace the two children who practically attempted to tackle him.

"You're back!" Koko says excitingly, and Link laughs in a way he hasn't in Zelda's company in a very long time. Her heart squeezes. In anger? In jealousy? She's not sure.

Link looks up from the embrace and finally he notices her. She can tell because that's the moment the smile falls from his face and his skin loses color with a blanch.

Which does nothing for Zelda's mood. She quickly finds the squeezing in her heart is, in fact, anger.

He clears his throat and jumps to his feet, leaving Cottla to grab at his tunic as he makes a point to ignore her now. One of the strangers with him, a tall man with shaggy, dirty brown hair and gray facial markings gives him a curious look and Link gives a nervous smile.

"I'm, uh, going to get us some beds at the inn-" he says, and then he's practically sprinting away.

Zelda is almost tempted to run towards him and beat him to a pulp, but it seems the newcomers' have noticed her presence as well. The oldest of the bunch walks towards her, an apologetic look on his face. Paya eeps when he ends up right in front of them.

"We're sorry to barge in like this," he says, "but we're simply passing the night and resupplying. What direction would the shops be in?"

"Who are you?" Zelda demands, and admittedly it's a bit harsher than what she intended. Not very princess-like of her. It startles the man and he takes a step back. Paya gives Zelda a look like she's insane but Zelda is too furious to care at the moment. Link had been off, galavanting around with a strange group of men and she wants nothing more in the entire world than to know why.

For the first time in a long time, she's furious. And of course, it's over Link of all people.

"We're heroes!" Someone pipes up and Zelda looks past the apparent leader's shoulder to see a small kid in a Hyrule-blue tunic similar to the ones all the Champions' have worn, except there's the pattern of a lobster around the collar instead of a sword or Triforce.

"Heroes," Zelda says, the word tasting bland in her mouth.

"Listen lady," another says and she glares coldly at him. He's glaring right back at her, arms folded across his red garbed chest, the pink in his hair didn't match his obviously prickly personality at all. "We're just passing through, there's no need to be hostile."

Paya gasps, this time not because of her out of control hormones and nervousness, but out of sheer shock at the way Zelda has just been addressed. Zelda is quite shocked as well, no one has ever spoken to her like that before... except...

They must not know who she is, and she's happy to show them.

"You would be wise to watch your tongue," Zelda says coolly. She lifts her chin and takes a threatening step forward. He doesn't seem to regret his words, but she knows he will in just a second. "You're talking to Zelda, Princess of Hyrule. I demand to know your intentions and your identities, less you wish to anger me more?"

The red garbed one's eyes widen more than what she had thought was possible on a human being. She holds back her smirk. There it is.

"Zelda?!" One of the others squawk. A taller one who wears a scarf.

"Princess-" the eldest says, a wobble to his voice, as if he's ashamed for the man in front of her.

Good. They should all feel ashamed. She holds up her hand, silencing him, and normally she loathes the power she has over people, but Link's stupid face flashes in her mind and her seething anger only grows. "I want him to answer me. What are you doing here, and why is Link with you?"

"Has... Has Wild- Link not told you?" The red one asks, his voice noticeably softer and higher.

She narrows her eyes and is about to perhaps... she doesn't know, throw hands or something, but she's stopped when a familiar voice calls her name.

"Princess Zelda!" A harsh tone shouts and Zelda snaps her head to the side to see none other than Impa clutching to the guard rails of her home, looking like she might crumble at any moment.

Impa's health has been deteriorating, and the way her arms are shaking with effort fills Zelda with an intense fear.

"Grandmother!" Paya calls out, forgetting everything going on at the ground level of Kakariko. She rushes up the stairs but Impa ignores her.

"You know not of who you are speaking to," Impa says, her body trembling but her voice strong. Zelda can feel an intense blush work it's way to her cheeks but it fades when a sudden realization washes over her.

"You know who they are," she breathes, the red clothed boy's words slamming into her. Has Link not told you?

He hasn't told Zelda a single thing, but he's told Impa. She can tell as Impa's wrinkled face softens that it's true.

"Please," Impa says, as Paya gently supports Impa and begins to guide her back inside, "come inside, all of you, so we can talk in privacy."

No, Zelda almost wants to demand, no, explain here and now.

But then she looks around her and sees various Kakariko residents and guards looking at them with curiosity. The blush returns to her face and she swallows with the realization that all of them have seen the entire thing. Ashamed, yet forcing herself not to show it, she begins the climb up the stairs, eight strangers following slowly behind her.

-o-o-o-o-

Link. Their names are Link. All of them. From the child, to the eldest, they're all Link. Not just in name, but also in spirit.

Zelda has heard of past heroes. Past princesses. Link's and Zelda's and Ganon's. One does not grow up in the royal family of Hyrule and not know the legends. Not know the people that she might have to potentially live up to.

And that's all she can think of as she looks at each of these... heroes in front of her. Which one is it? Which one fought Calamity Ganon ten thousand years ago? Wich one had a better Zelda than what she could ever be? Which one... Which one was her Link forced to an equal with?

The one called the Hero of Time explains their situation. Explains of merging timelines and powerful, black blooded monsters popping up where they shouldn't. Recognition washes over Zelda with each passing word. Black blooded creatures, monsters stronger than what they should be, she's seen it happen a few times here and there around Hyrule, and it's only getting more frequent.

The Hero of Time continues to explain, every so often a detail is added in by the Hero of Twilight or the Hero of Warriors while all the other heroes sit and watch the exchange. Watch her.

And she wonders why it isn't the Hero of the Wild explaining this all to her. Why isn't Link here telling her this.

When the Hero of Time finishes, Zelda doesn't stick around much longer. She doesn't even look at the Hero of Legend as she leaves the room, her chest feeling like someone's stuffed metal into her cavity. She's embarrassed. Ashamed. How could she have fallen back into old securities and make such a fool of herself? She's a princess for crying out loud. She should be wise. Her hand goes to the back of her hand, where an invisible force burns. Courageous. Powerful too.

She should be smart. She should be confident. She should be a leader.

The full Triforce lives within her. She has gotten to know it well during her imprisonment.

This insecure, jumping to conclusions Zelda that she is right now shouldn't exist. She should have died with Link one hundred years ago. Zelda lost the right to feel anything other than confidence and poise the moment his last breath left his lips, the moment his body went limp in her arms.

Alas. She finds herself in front of the inn, head spinning.

This Link may not be her Link exactly, but she can't help it. She needs to see him. She needs to hear everything from him.

She needs to know why he's brushed her off. Why he's betrayed her like this.

She feels like a love sick teen, and something at the back of her head whispers that she is, but she ignores it because she's been through too much to call herself a teen either. Let alone love sick. She doesn't love him.

Not like that.

Ollie is at the front desk, smiling to himself, until she enters the room. He looks up and his smile falls, opening into a soft 'o' of surprise. She hates that look. She doesn't like that look. Can't they just welcome her like a normal human being?

"Princess!" Ollie stammers, wringing his hands in front of him. "C-can I help you?"

"Where is Link," she asks, and it's physically taxing to keep her voice steady.

Ollie rambles off the list of room numbers that Link had purchased and she thanks him as she begins to make her way to those rooms. Luckily, they're all next to each other, so she must only search one at a time.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, he's in the first room, placing his stuff down in a chest provided by the inn for temporary storage.

"There you are," she says, and Link nearly jumps high enough to whack his head on the low ceiling. He spins around, like he had expected a guardian to be standing behind him instead of his fr- instead of his princess.

"Zelda," he breathes, cheeks reddening and eyes comically wide. "You're not... You're not supposed to be here."

Zelda grinds her teeth. "I apologise, I forgot that you were the only one aloud to disappear at a drop of a dime and go wherever you want to."

It should feel glad with the shame that fills his face, but it just makes the aching in her chest worse. "Zelda-"

"I'd ask where you were, but your friends did that for you."

"I'm so-"

"I'd ask if they're trustworthy," she continues, "but Impa did that for you too."

Link falls silent, looking at the ground like he'd wish it would swallow him up.

"So I have one question to ask you," she says, "why didn't you tell me?"

Silence. A stretch of it. She's almost afraid he won't answer, but he takes a deep breath like the air is the most weighted thing in the world. "I didn't wish to worry you," he says.

There he goes again. Speaking like she's above him. Speaking like he hadn't meant everything to her before his one hundred years slumber. Speaking like she's his boss, and not his best friend. "Well, you did a shoddy job at that. What is your problem, Link?" She demands, stepping forward, and he won't meet her eyes. "What is it about me that you cannot stand? You told Impa, but made no mention of this to me. You simply said you were going and then you were nowhere to be found. You dumped rebuilding a kingdom onto me. You dumped everything onto me. Nothing but a single goodbye to show how little you care."

"It's not that," Link says, practically scrambling with his words. He still won't look her in the eyes. Why won't he look her in the eyes? "I promise it's not that-"

"Enlighten me, then, Wild. If that's your preferred name now."

He flinches and it breaks her heart. He flinches at it reminds her of his soft voice and touch as they sat side by side all those years ago and he told her why he preferred to be silent. He flinches and she remembers that that boy is dead.

It shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't. They should be happy. He should remember her. They should be back to what they were before, laughing at dumb jokes until their sides got stitches. They should be back to her trying to shove a frog or beetle in his mouth to test the effect. They should be back to him showing her the best places to pet a horse. They should be back to quiet, secret talks around a fire where the title of Princess and Knight didn't exist, nothing but their intertwined hands and the possibility of maybe leaning towards each other and... and the possibility of maybe something more.

Not this. Not this brick wall that she sees before her. One that he built.

He must hate her. Why else would he choose not to remember her? This is all her fault anyway.

If only she had learned her powers quicker. None of the others... no one would have had to die.

"Zelda," Link says, and she blinks, eyes suddenly a little clearer than what they had been before. She hadn't noticed tears. Of course she's crying. Just her luck, isn't it? "Zelda, I promise... it's not that... it's just..." He swallows and she doesn't dare speak. "It... It hurts. Remembering. It hurts."

"You said you wanted to be by my side, even without those memories," she says, insists, and he winces. "You said. You promised."

"I know," he says back, his voice trembling, "I know. It just hurt too much and- and I-"

"You what?"

"I remembered how I died," he whispers, voice horrifyingly soft.

Fear enters her bloodstream. His voice, the way he said that, makes her think that he didn't remember how he died before he left. This was recent.

He isn't supposed to know how he died. Not until he remembers everything else.

He wasn't supposed to know, and she blinks more liquid from her eyes and she realizes that he's doing the same.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asks. "Why did you run away, and leave me with a bunch of strangers who insist you're one of them? I would have listened. I would have-"

"I couldn't... It was so fresh and I'm still reeling and I- you're so brave, and so wise, and so... so everything that I just... I couldn't face you."

Silence. Then she breathes, but if feels like she's shattering.

"You couldn't face me?" Her chest hurts. Her head is light. She almost stumbles back to seek support from a wall or something else behind her that are more reliable than her legs. "You don't have to face me, Link. You never have to face me. I'm not Calamity Ganon."

Her voice sounds broken, even to her, and he suddenly looks close to panicking.

Finally, he's looking at her in the eyes, but it's for all the wrong reasons.

"No, no that's not what I meant," he takes a step towards her, voice sounding almost desperate, but she shakes her head, turning away. "Zelda! Zelda please-"

"Good luck on your adventures, Wild. I hope you find yourself."

She shuts the door behind her, and she can just barely hear him slam a fist onto the closed door with an agonized cry as she quickly retreats, wiping under her eyes and feeling the complete opposite of wise.

What are they doing? They've worked so hard just to fall like this? She realizes that he still has never told her the exact reasons of why he trusted Impa more than her, but right now it doesn't matter.

It's the words in-between the lines that speak loudest, isn't it?

She makes her way up the stairs into Impa's house and walks as quickly as she can past the eight faces belonging to people who must be disgusted with her. She walks to the guest room Paya normally has dusted and waiting for her arrival, shuts the door behind her, and leans back against it.

Her legs finally give out and she sinks to the ground, trying to blink the blurriness away, but it comes as quickly as it goes now.

Oh Link, where has she gone wrong?

#jin writes #linked Universe #fan fic #hero of the wild #Zelda #ask #anon ask #mystery anon

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stardancerluv · 4 years

Text

A Dark and Stormy Night

Part 1 of 2

A prequel to Creative Fervor

Summary: You went out with your friends to celebrate the birthday of one of them. What you didn’t expect was fallling hard for one of the most infamous criminals in all of Gotham who is also the owner of a chic new club in Gotham.

Arthor’s Note: This has been revised & rewriten in spots!

You and your friends huddled under the overhang outside of The Luxy Star. Rain was coming down in sheets. “Why, don’t we head to The Black Mask?” You suggest.

*****

Roman smiled, “All I wanted was to have you as an ally.” He crossed his arms in front of the man hanging before him. “We didn’t need to get to this point.

The man screamed against the tape. Roman went over and grabbed the man by his hair. A smirked curled his lips. He ripped off the tape.

“Do you have something to say?”

The man pleaded. “Please, I have rethought your proposal. I have a wife...”

“Fuck that. She’ll do better without you making stupid decisions.” He chuckled, letting him go, he swung; pleads poured from the man’s mouth.

Roman, twirled his finger. “Have fun Victor, see you back at the club.”

*****

Your friends were shrugging, and hesitant. “Isn’t that owned by a psycho?” One asked.

“It’s the new hot place. It’s like we are going there for him.” You shrugged. “Nothing has been confirmed, probably just slander. Look how my name appears in the papers.” You add.

After more discussion you all finally ran over to The Black Mask club. You spotted a table in a corner, “Let’s sit over there.” You all settled in and used several of the cloth napkins to dry and freshen up.

You looked around, this place is a class act. You were taken with it. This place was so classy. You enjoyed its atmosphere more then any of the other clubs you had gone to that night.

No one came over to the table. If you all didn’t get a drinks soon, you knew they’d want to leave. You were not interested in leaving. The rain aside, you were enjoying the atmosphere and the singer was amazing.

“I’ll go and see about getting us some drinks.” You told them and quicked shuffled out of your side of the booth.

Before heading to the bar, you hit the ladies room. Your makeup was still on point, you smiled at your reflection. Your make you had not run in the rain. You were still startled by the purple hair. You shook your head, never again would you let anyone convince you to do something like that again. You missed the natural color of your hair. Winking at your reflection, you smoothed your dress.

You hesitated and glanced towards your friends, they were all still there, chatting away. They all had more to drink than you. Honestly, at this point they were alittle annoying. The bar was packed shoulder to shoulder, no wonder you still had no drinks. Then again this was most chic club in all of Gotham.

*****

Roman, smiled it was another busy Saturday night. As it should be, he mused sipping his martini. He relished the control he had over others. Seats immediately opened up, people moved out of his way as he walked around.

He twirled a finger and another martini was brought to him. “Thank you.” As he sipped at his new martini, he was relieved to have that meeting at the docks done with. It may have been entertaining but that feeling faded away as he enjoyed watching how good things were at club. In the end, he mused he much preferred allies over enemies but that was the nature of the beast if you wanted to be powerful in Gotham.

*****

Smiling, to yourself you spotted an opening at the club. Right as you were walking up to the spot, a large man backed up. It forced you to back right into the another guy. You immediately turned to apologize. “I am terribly sorry.”

Looking up from apologizing to the made you bumped up to, you came face to face with a man with the most piercing blue eyes. It took everything in you to not gasp at the sight of his chisled features with a mouth that made you want to kiss him.

“It’s alright, he was rude to not look behind him.” The man said, his voice had a timber that went right through you.

“He didn’t see me.” You shrugged, “Not many notice me since I’m so short.” Keeping eye contact with him was almost too much for you. You closed your eyes for the briefest of moments, opening then you glanced back to the bar.

This man had quite the effect on you. You felt shaken to your core. Sure you had a few drinks before getting here but not enough to let your feelings to run away from you.

You gestured to get one of the bartender’s attention. “Excuse me.” You called out.

“I don’t know how he could miss you.” He added, you flushed at his words and looking back at him you saw him smile. The sight of it made you tremble, you were not used a man having this kind of effect on you. You felt as he put a gloved hand on your bare shoulder, making your heart beat faster. “Are you ok?” You nodded. “You seem distracted.”

“I’m ok!” You said almost to loudly, flushing harder. You are driving me crazy, you mused but you turned and smiled at him. “My friends and I are sitting at that table over there and no one has come to see if we wanted anything.” Exasperation from your nervousness came pouring out of you.

“I’m sorry about that. Someone, should have come over and taken your orders.” He shook his head. “Are you having a girls night?”

You nodded. “We could all finally get together and celebrate our friend Jessica’s birthday.”

“All busy girls huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I am trying to start my own business from the ground floor.” You pressed your lips together. Despite him making you nervous by being the most attractive man you had ever met; he was incredibly easy to talk with. “I am not getting any help from my parents or family.” You saw him look around. You had probably bored him, you sighed. You had probably scared him off.

He turned to look back at you and nodded. “Fuck family.” Your eyes widen. “Oh, well” He looked relunctant over the sudden outburst before continuing much calmer then moments before. “But I am with you on that, I am doing the same.”

“You are? What are you doing?” You looked down. “Oh! I am sorry I shouldn’t be so nosy. But yes, it can be so hard.”

He gestured to the club. “It can be hard to run a club.”

Your heart skipp a beat when you realized that in front of you was the famous Roman Sionis. Your eyes widdened. “I..I...you have an amazing club. The place is busy, that’s probably why no one came over.” You added quickly.

He shrugged, a hint of annoyance wrinkled his mouth. “Yeah well that is no excuse. You should already have your drinks amd having a good time. With how busy I assume you are, you should be already dancing and haviny a good time.” He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Hey!” He called out, both bartenders appeared before the two of you.

You could not really wrap your head around this. You were now convinced now that the papers were wrong about him. He really was a nice guy, they just couldn’t handle it that there was another rich guy in Gotham. That perhaps in his case was more private then Bruce.

“This girl here,” He gestured to you. “Um, how rude of me I don’t know your name.”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/LN.”

“You are going to take care of whatever, Y/N wants along with her friends. Apparently, you two have been ignoring them.”

“Oh um, we don’t want much. It’s not a huge deal.”

“None sense.” He looked at the bartender and back at you, he smiled. “And its on the house.”

“What! Mr. Sionis,” You grabbed his arm, you immediately were taken by how soft the fabric of his suit jacket was, your fingers lingered before you realized what you had done.

His lips curled into a smirk as he glanced at your hand and back at you. “Y/N call me Roman.”

“Ok.” You smiled.

They soon took your order, even suggesting anything else you all could possibly want. “We will take it to your table. You don’t have to wait for them here.”

“Thank you.” You turned to Roman, “Mr. Sionis...oooo I am sorry.” You looked down and finally let go of his arm. You looked at him through your lashes at him. “I mean Roman thank you.”

He chuckled and made a dismissive gesture, before you could continue. “It’s alright. Go, enjoy your night with your friends. Maybe we can talk again before you leave.” He smiled.

“Ok, Roman.” You’d be lying if you didn’t mind saying his name. “I’d like that.” You met his eyes one more time, before heading back to your friends. As you did, you felt like you were floating.

*****

He watched as you walked away. The way your green dress moved as you did. His stomach knotted.

He wasn’t too crazy about the purple hair but damn everything else about you was amazing. Normally, he hated it when people touched him but he liked how your delicate hand felt on his arm. Smirking, he wondered how both your hands would feel him.

He wanted to touch more of you. Perhaps, when you’d talk later he would let his hand slip to your thigh. He had images of smearing your heavy lipstick. The idea of that made his heart pick up speed. He could smear it before kissing you. Your face upturned awaiting a kiss, your warm breath on his face. It wasn’t long before he could imagine being in bed with you.

Wow the hell were you. He glanced around the club. Where the fuck was Zsasz when he needed him. He wanted to find out who you were and what exactly was the business you were starting up. He finished his martini, honestly why should he care what you did? But oddly, grimacing at the thought he did.

You looked back at him then. He smiled and held up his glass.

He watched as you sat down, looking over your friends you were a flower among weeds. You were so dynamic compared to them.

*****

What had just happened? Had you really just been chatting and getting attracted to Roman Sionis. You looked back, he held up a martini and you gave a wave.

Your friends were all a whisper, they apparently had known who he was before you did. They also thought it was funny how you appeared to be all moony over him.

Soon, all the drinks were delivered. They toasted before heading out to the dance floor. You began enjoying one of the best amaretto sours you had ever had.

Feeling, feisty you joined your friends to go and dance. You looked around as you did but you couldn’t spot him. Your heart sank when you didn’t see him.

Going back to your table you were all pleasantly surprised that there was a fresh round of drinks.

Jessica nudged you. “Your boyfriend has done good.” She teased.

You rolled, your eyes. “Oh yeah..my boyfriend...someone as hot as that.” You shook your head. “Never.”

“Oooh, so he’s really hot, huh?” Teased another friend.

“Well, did you see him?” You defended your taste.

“I’ll check right now.”

“Huh.” That’s when you saw, him approaching the table. The sight of him once again, stole your breath. He hand something in his gloved hands.

Jessica, had caught your attention as she fluffed herself. She always did that when she was about to go after someone remotely attractive. She also usually got what she wanted when it came to that. So you knew, any chance with Roman was now over.

*****

Damn, you really were the rose among a mass of ragged thorns. As he neared he saw as one attempted to make herself more appealing. He noticed getting closer that she wore a tacky sash announcing that it was her birthday. Nothing much else was all that appealing about her, she looked too fake. He could tell that her makeup was cheap and done poorly.

He noticed, you looking at him as he got closer. He enjoyed that. “Y/N ,” he said once he arrived there, he placed the bottle of champagne on the table as the waiter placed the glasses down. “And friends, on behalf of myself and The Black Mask Club, we want you all to have an amazing time celebrating here.” He held up the bottle of champagne once again. “He looked over at you and smiled. Enjoy this at your leisure and be sure to let us know when you want us to pop it for you.”

The fake one leaned over, showing ample cleavage. “Open it now, pop that bottle. I want to celebrate a little harder.”

He did not roll his eyes but he wanted too!

There were some giggles and cheers and many thank yous. He only cared about yours. “Thank you, Roman. That was very nice of you.”

“Your welcome, Y/N.” With the flair he had for most everything he did, he opened the bottle. “The Black Mask, would love for you to be our guest again in the future.”

“I’d like that.” You smiled at him.

“Fantastic.” He looked you over again, then your friends. “If you need anything holler.” Then he turned to leave. He could hear whispers but he could not understand any of them.

******

“Oh someone is on a first name basis with him.” One teased you with a raised eyebrow.

“I only just learned it at the bar when we chatted.” You defended yourself.

Jessica continued, to fluff herself. “Do you think I caught his eye?”

“Now your moony over him?” One of them asked, giggling.

“Well, Y/N is right he is hot.”

All of them erupted into giggles, except you. You finished your drink. Looking for a distraction. You spotted him, your heart lifted but then it came crashing down.

You watched as a blonde, with a gold shimmery dress with black diamonds sauntered over to him. She easily, wrapped her slender arms around his throat. A wide grin spread across his face. You looked away then. Who the hell were you kidding, you thought annoyed. “Hey, are we going to go and dance again girls?” You asked wanting to distract yourself.

*****

He went back and sat in his chair. He had to wondered what you all whispered about. He watched as they all giggled and you just sipped your drink. He debated whether he should go over, pull you to your feet and bring you out to the dance floor. That’s when he heard that obnoxious, squeaky voice. He didn’t even have to turn to it to know who it was. But he had to play nice. He didn’t want tension with that crazy clown or his off the edge girlfriend. He smiled broadly in her direction as she came over to him.

She was closer then he liked and shifted as she easily wrapped her arms around him. Swallowing, he smiled. “Why Harleen Quinzell what do we owe this pleasure?” Her perfume made his stomach lurch.

A pout formed on her ruby lips. “Joker and I are fighting.” He gently eased her arms away from around his throat. “I came here to have a good time.”

He continued to smile. “Well this is the place to have it.” He twirled a finger and one of those disgusting pink drinks she loved was brought over. “Here you go,” he handed it to her. “And if your paramour shows up, do tell him I would like a word.” He got up and smoothed his suit jacket.

“Of course, Romy.” She took a hearty sip, smiling.

Looking around, he decided to bring you to the dance floor. But he didn’t see you.

Zsass, finally appeared at your side. “It’s all done boss.” He resisted the urge to tell him on to just slide on up like that.

“Good.” He spat out, still hoping to spot you. He didn’t see you anywhere.

“Are you looking for someone, Romy?” Harley chirped.

“For a silly little girl,” he cooed softly. “You noticed. I am.”

She slid off her bar stool with a happy little sound. “Want me to check the ladies room?”

“Sure.” He said flatly. He noticed your friends were still there, maybe that’s where you wandered off too. “She has dark purple hair and a striking green dress.” He held up a hand. “Harley, don’t approach! Just come back and tell me like a good girl.”

“Ok!” She chirped and happily bounced over.

Sometime later, she caught his eye as she left the ladies. She simply shook her head no.

“There someone you want me to grab, sir?” Zsass’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes! No..no.” He shook his head. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. You would probably never speak to him again.

@grandimagines @spn-obession @vintagemichelle91 @zodiyack @emyliabernstein @top-rumbelle-fan @rosionis @johallzy @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @pooshnulooshnu @speedypartyducksuitcase @blondekel77 @saphic-susperia @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight

#roman sionis pov #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis #ewan mcgregor #bop #birds of prey #part 1 of 2 #Harley Quinn #A Dark and Stormy Night #margot robbie #black mask #black mask x reader #black mask x you #black mask x y/n #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor pov #fem!reader

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starjeno · 4 years

Text

destined | l.mh | 3

genre: fluff | soulmate!au, genderswap!au pairing: student!mark x female!reader warnings: bad words? word count: 1973 summary: it’s a fact of life that soulmates swap bodies. when mark wakes up in a bed that isn’t his, he’s delighted. you, on the other hand, absolutely despise it. a/n: filler chapter, sorry! and i know it’s been a while since i’ve posted. also, i gave the roommate a name finally.

the sunset filtering through your curtains fills the room with hazy light. it’s soft and golden and comforting, but it does little to placate your roommate. her arms remain crossed over her chest as you pace by the mini-fridge nervously, waiting for this interrogation to end.

“okay, but what did yuta say?” she’s already somehow familiarized herself with the names of the people involved, and while it took some time for her to get used to your new appearance, she currently seems to have grown accustomed to it. you groan, “i told you, yuta likes this whole thing. he just ignored me and then said that i should take mark into consideration.”

“why can’t mark take you into consideration instead?” she retorts. you huff, “i told you this too! mark also thinks i like this whole thing!”

“well? do you?”

you can’t help the hesitation that bubbles up in your throat when you think about the events of earlier. the rapid beating of your heart and the heat in the tips of your ears and the strange familiarity that accompanied each of mark’s words — he felt like a missing puzzle piece, like someone you loved in a past life, and you didn’t like how you unconsciously gravitated towards him as he spoke.

then again, you only saw him for a few hours, so maybe you’re overexaggerating. you shake your head firmly, “i don’t! you know that! i don’t want any of this!”

she gives you an unplaceable look, her eyes filled with contemplation, before groaning and sitting up, “let’s go out to eat. you’ve had a rough day.”

“you’ll pay?”

“yeah,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair, “i don’t want you to confuse the cashier with your credit card info. let’s get out of here.”

it’s a blessing that your roommate has kun. she’s accumulated enough of his clothing that your new body has a decent selection to choose from. though the clothes all fit loosely, you figure tucking your dress shirt into your pants and looping a belt tightly through should make sure your outfit is secure. she stands in the doorway as she watches you change, blushing feverishly when she associates your initial meeting with yuta with the boxers that now hug you snugly.

“where do you feel like eating?”

you hum in thought as you grab a cap, “honestly? kun’s place. he makes such good food.”

she rolls her eyes before dialing her boyfriend’s number on the phone. it rings for a few seconds until the line clicks and you hear a deep voice fill the speaker, “what’s up? you only call at this time when you’re hungry. or horny. or both. please don’t be both.”

“uh, just hungry. also, ____ and i have something we should tell you,” she mumbles, “i’ll be over in five.”

she hangs up before looking over to me and sighing, "i'll do your hair."

as you sit down in front of a mirror and watch your roommate squeeze out a frightening amount of gel onto her palm, you can't help but think about mark again. it's hard not to since his face is the reflection and it shines with a bright optimism that you currently lack. you attempt a half-hearted smile to make his features seem pleasant; it feels wrong when his face frowns.

meanwhile, the girl behind the chair slicks your hair in a neat quiff, sparing a few strands to fall onto your forehead casually. you look handsome, and you're somewhat pleased that kun's first impression of your soulmate will be great on terms of looks.

not that you cared particularly. you don't. you aren't even sure you know what a mark is, much less feel as if others should approve of him.

"there, let's go," she hums, wiping her hands off with a towel and spritzing some floral scent on the two of you before walking out. you follow reluctantly.

kun's apartment is cute and filled with small plants that are groomed to perfection. little canvases with a dramatic ink strokes line the walls above the television and couches, and pens are littered in the corners of every room. there's even a pen tucked into the pocket of the man himself, who is still in the ironed dress shirt he went to work in.

his smile radiates as the two of you walk into the hall, but you can sense the air tension rise, “mina and . . . a friend?”

“ha ha, very funny, kun. you won’t believe who this is,” your roommate grins as you two sit down. kun pauses for a bit before backing into his kitchen, grabbing a spare pan to add on top of the stove, thinking, “uh, a cousin? your long-lost brother? i thought ____ was coming over.”

“exactly,” she huffs before motioning over to you, “meet mark, or better known as ____ in mark’s body.”

kun gasps and points the pan at you accusingly, laughter lacing his voice, “oh my god, you fucking swapped?”

you grin and place a hand to drag the pot down, “i know, it’s crazy.”

“at least he’s cute,” the dimpled boy chuckles, sighing in disbelief. he definitely knew you well.

“agreed,” you smile a bit and your roommate shoots you a short-lived glare before looking at kun, “so we came here to destress from such a horrific event by eating your food.”

“that sounds like a plan . . . ,” he muses, a small smile growing on his face as he takes out cooking oil, “you guys can just chill, and i’ll have something cooked up in ten.”

as soon as you pull your phone out, a notification slides onto a screen. you bite your lip as the social messaging app displays the message of a new follower, and when you hold down for more details, you instantly recognize the handle.

mark. he must've searched you up, and if he's managed to follow you on here, he's probably found all your socials by now. as if on cue, you see three more notifs slide gracefully on your phone, beaming with a new friend request. you aren’t sure if you’re happy or annoyed, or a bit of both, but you hold down and open the app to find a new direct message awaiting your approval.

mark1ee (online): hi! sorry if this is creepy but i figured we’re friends now, so...

good lord. you bite your lips to keep from laughing at his shyness, finding it adorable, and avert your eyes from your phone. mina glares at you quizzically, raising a brow as if to ask what you’re amused at, but you simply shake your head emphatically and begin to type back.

you: how’d you know my last name? there’s probably more than one ____ out there. mark1ee is typing . . .

"here, some cheesy ass lasagna. i put, like, five different kinds of cheese in there, or just whatever was in my fridge.” kun slides two plates to you and your roommate and grabs the nearest chair to sit. he looks at you as you tentatively poke at the stuffing, “i didn’t poison it, you know.”

“shut up, i’m critiquing it!” you laugh as you place a food-filled fork in your mouth, smiling at the instant flavor, “whoa, i forgot how good you are at this.”

he lowers his brows as he smiles, “you mean you forgot my job is in the culinary arts?”

you face downwards as kun strikes up a conversation with your roommate and glance at the notification on your phone. it doesn’t take a moment of hesitation for you to swipe and check mark’s message.

mark1ee (online): i checked the profile pictures. it would be a lot easier to make sure i’m contacting the right person if i had your number ;) you: how smooth. how do i know this is the mark i met earlier today? mark1ee (online): already asking for pics? damn. mark1ee sent a photo mark1ee (online): i forgot that it’s basically just a pic of you lmao :/ now pls send #

you snort and look up to find your roommate and kun staring at you intently. you wave your hand dismissively, "funny meme, sorry."

they give you a strange look before resuming the conversation, and you hide your phone under your leg before digging into the meal before you.

"so, what's going on?"

at the question, yuta sighs as mark walks in, his hand rubbing a towel through his wet hair, "winwin is coming back early. a week early."

"are you not excited?" mark quips. the older male tiredly grins, "i'm excited, believe me. but i'm worried that i won't pay enough attention to your switch."

mark frowns, the wrinkles ruining the feminine face, "i'll be fine. she just sent me her number!"

he takes a seat by yuta and faces the flatscreen in front, his glossy eyes reflecting the bright lights of the video game. yuta glances at his long lashes and soft brows for a moment before resuming the screen, "damn, good job. maybe you have enough game to survive without me."

"wha- fuck you! and you'll still be here!" mark laughs, picking up the other controller.

"i'm running away with winwin, by the way," yuta jokes. he lets mark join the round before pressing the buttons again, "now that you have her number, what are you going to do? ask her on a date?"

mark freezes. he hadn't even thought of what to do, and right now, yuta feels like a personal certified love guru. what a great fucking idea! before he could spend more time admiring yuta's genius, mark drops the controller and sends a new text to you, hoping for a stroke of luck.

he didn't really need luck though. he had literally found his soulmate that morning.

you: wanna go on a date? nctzn (online): how would i get clothes, doof? i'm wearing my roomie's bf's shit now :/ you: well, keep wearing them and i'll buy myself a dress? i don't care what you wear though, i'm not a great dresser.

mark is lying to his new form. he had always considered himself as someone with a good eye for outfits and color coordination. he sighs as the green dot by your profile that signifies your online presence fades away, and he figures he should probably find another way to pass the time while you’re offline. yuta waits expectantly, “well?”

“clothing’s an issue. and i don’t even know where i should take her,” mark grins, “it’s going to feel so weird, like going on a date with myself? trippy.”

“you’ll survive, it’s not like you’re ugly,” yuta sighs as he rolls his eyes with exasperation. mark doesn’t respond. he’s too preoccupied with the idea of you to even process yuta’s words. he’s never felt so giddy about a girl before — even his middle school crushes never got him feeling this jittery. conversation with you flowed so smoothly, and even mark knew how strange it was to feel this way after one conversation.

he’s glad you reciprocate his feelings. everything’s he heard about soulmates seems to be true: you fit him well. mark knows he should be a little more hesitant, but this is finally a dream come true. you’re a dream come true.

you: let’s go on a date tmrw then? nctzn (online): ok why not

mark glances up at the bright orange sky. the sun has only just started to set and the evening barely grazes the warm colors. are you just as happy as he is now? is your head filled with thoughts of him, the same way he can’t stop thinking about you?

mark’s pauses, not sure if he should dare to think his next question, but the idea floats in his head anyway and he turns pink with embarrassment.

yuta turns away, silent.

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#neowritingsnet #cznnet #neocaratnet #ncitynetwork #mark lee #lee minhyung #nct mark #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u #mark x reader #sexswap au #genderswap au #destined #starjeno

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Your Living It

Summary- (Playing It Cool) He x Y/N (later i will give him a proper name besides he or me) Frustrated with the latest romcom, you two go out for some fun. Smut. Fir @official-and-unstable-satan Hope this is what you were hoping for babes.

Word Count- 2.7k

“Babes, can you like, not leave notes all over everything?” You playfully scold as you gather the papers he had scattered across the entire kitchen, and he raced in, throwing his hands up rapidly.

“STOP RIGHT THERE! Babygirl dont you dare move”

Wide eyed you pause, the papers half shuffled together when he comes over and takes them from your hand. His brows furrow as he studies them, before putting them back on the counter just where they were before. “A method to my madness, just… dont clean.”

“But how am I supposed to cook dinner then?” You whinned a bit, arms folding over your chest, and he straightened out some of the papers before turning to you.

“Ummm, pizza? Bowling alley pizza?” You wince a bit and then he adds “With bowling alley beer?” You nod then with a grin and he busts out in a grin to, and wraps an arm around you to pull you in close, kissing your lips quickly. “Thanks for putting up with me, but Im almost done with the script for Bryan and hes been riding my ass for it.”

Your hands smooth along his chest, and up around his neck, he had been STRESSING over this thing for weeks, “Riding your ass and pulling your hair huh? I should really call Bryan and tell him to lay off or else.” You joked, and he wiggled his brows, tickling along your back.

“Well thats better done in person after all. I need to see his reaction” You lean up and catch that grin of his one more time, a more playful teasing kiss with a nibble and trace of tongue before you step away. “Give me five minutes and I will be ready to go.”

“Okay! See you in ten then!” He called over his shoulder and laughed when your middle finger shot up at him and you slammed the bedroom door shut, laughing yourself. Once you closed the door, he went over to his laptop, sitting and staring at the screen. Its cursor blinked at him . “fucken hell” He muttered as he slammed the screen down, frustrated at coming up with the ending.

You pop back out just as he plasters a smile on his face and his eyes rake over your form, even in damn black leggings and a tank, the whole ensamble hugging your curves. Fuck you looked good, You always did. “See! Five minutes.” He gasped as he took your hand to lead you along, fingers wrapping with yours. “A first? One of many? The world may never know.”

What a dumbass, you thought but couldnt help but laugh regardless. Going to the car, you two headed out, while he was driving you texted Scott.

‘Hey buddy, wanna play bowl a round or two, or you to caught up in something?’

‘No! Be there, get that end lane if you can.”

Tossing your phone up on the dashboard just as you two pulled in “Scotts gonna play with us.” And he just nodded, making sure his wallet was in his pocket.

“Good, he whupped my ass last time, time to pay back the favor.”

Sure enough you were able to lock down the lane on the end, while he went to go get a couple heartburn pizza slices and mildly warm beers, grabbing enough for Scott as well, there was nothing quite like bowling alley fare, you test the balls and set to put the names on the screen. Bowler 1- HottStuff 2.Wifeypoo 3.BlueBallMC. He glanced up at the screen and smirked “You really think im Hott Stuff, Wifey?”

You snort just as Scott comes in and also looks at the screen. “What the hell guys, come on!”

You look all innocent and make a pointing motion to your man, wrinkling your nose as if in distaste.

“Seriously dude? Just cause I have a blue ball…. “ he grumbles as he unzips his bag and takes out gloves and a shiny blue ball. You two just pick random ones from the selection.

“What? It wasnt me.” the two of them bicker about the name calling and you take your slice of pizza, nipping on the end with a satisfied grin, putting your feet up in the seat next to you. He takes the first bowl, making a fist pump when it hit just right and scattered the pins across the alley. “I told Y/N i was kicking your ass today Scott”

“As if man… “ Scott is polishing his ball, looking all serious, while you to to take yours. You honestly dont care, your just shooting the ball down the lane, and hands on hips, waiting to see how the pins fall. You get three, well your happy with that. The other two though, it was almost a tie torwards the middle of the set.

“Hey, I will be back, gonna get another pitcher of beer” You offer when you noticed it was down to the dredges, and he poured out the last of it into his cup before handing it over. “Thanks babe” as you walk a little tap on the ass makes you smirk and a little spring in your step.

Taking a quick break while your away, Scott stretches his arms out front of him to stay loose. “So hows that latest script coming by the way? Last message I got from you was a bunch of nonsense about how you suck at anything romantic”

Rubbing his head he sighed “I dont know why Bryan keeps laying these lame ass rom coms on me. I cant write them worth a shit, and they just suck. Im so stuck on a ending now, and my deadline is in just a few days, after already getting an extension.” Carrying on, Scott kinda just shook his head at him. “What?”

“You man, you claim you cant write rom coms worth a shit, but come on. The last two were HUGE box office successes for you and look at you. You are basically living in one.” Scott pointed out as he moved to grab his ball, nodding towards the counter where you were chatting and paying for the beer. His head tilted, he honestly never thought of what you two shared in a movie sense.

“Just saying man…. thats a love story right there without you even knowing it.”

Yea, I am pretty lucky. He thought as you came back over, setting the pitcher down with the utmost care. He leaned forward and caught your hips, dragging you back into his lap. Wiggling in place, your legs draped over his, you mentioned to Scott. “2 more frames and the best bowler wins. Come on Blue Balls MC! You got this!” Red flamed the mans face and you tipped your head back laughing. He was watching you, but in a different light, just capturing the moment for himself. Fuck he was probably one of the luckiest people he knew.

So He won, not by much and as the three of you went to leave, Scott promising a rematch later in the week when the whole group could get together and you were hugging Scott goodbye “Game on, I know Mallory wants to see you kick his ass you know.”

“Oh I plan on it. Im gonna prime up the ball tonight with some new wax.”

“Thats the stuff Scott” you encourage him, and wave as he left, the parking lot mostly empty with the late hour and He came up behind you, sliding his hands against your hips and you felt him brush the raze of his chin against your neck, tipping back with a light sigh.

“You can beat him again baby.”

“I love how you pit us together Y/N” Making you smirk deviously and turn to look up at him.

“Girls gotta have her fun.”

“Yea well, the guy does to.” Backing you up against the car and grasping your chin to tilt your face up, his face lowering close enough to brush his lips against yours. “Im thinking we have some fun right here.” You reach to his belt buckle and tug on it lightly, “Back seat or Front seat?”

His hands were already sliding over your ass and grinding you into his groin. “Mmmhhh back” He let go to open the door, the two of you tumbling in with kisses and hands grabbing at clothes. You laid back as he hovered over you, your legs parting so he could lay between them and continue with sloppy kisses and your hands pushing through the buzzed hairs on his head and down to his back, wrapping your legs around his hips as he rolled them, sure to apply the pressure right at your core, that belt buckle just grinding into your nerves making you gasp right in his mouth. “Fuck baby… “ Scrambling your fingers into his shirt and tugging it over his head.

He rolled yours up and lifting your head, disposed of the tank top on the floor, dropping his head to bite and suck the top of your breasts that were peeking over the top of your bra, he dragged a cup down enough to expose you, drawing that peak between his teeth and rolling lightly before sucking on it, causing another jolt and moan from you, your nails digging in lightly at his shoulder blades, and dragging down. He didnt stop there, lapping his tongue over the aroused peak and did the same with the other, your bra tightly wound around you while your breasts fell out the top, kneading firmly while teasing the tip. Shortly after that he unsnapped it and dragged it off. He knew what that did to you, so sensitive and maddening, soon you were wriggling underneath him and in panting pleas.

“Your driving me insane, I need you. NEED YOU INSIDE ME. Fuck me please?”

“Since you ask so nicely babygirl” He lifts his head, his blue eyes flashing in the street light illuminating a part of your backseat. He grasps your leggings and panties drawing them down. In your impatience, you shift your legs to be rid of them. He hovered over you, dipping his hand between the two of you, teasing your wet warm folds, slicking your arousal up and down.

“Cant wait can you baby? So wet and needy.” Dipping into your core and you tighten around him, needing that sensation. “Greedy is what you are, so tight.”

You nod, and run your hands up and down his biceps, biting your lip. “God yes, so please? Pretty please? Fucking hell, please?” You bucked your hips under his hand and he swept down to kiss you deeply, and jerking at his belt, you purred against his tongue rolling around yours and started helping him, grabbing his belt loops and shimmying his pants down far enough so his cock was free, using your heels and toes to hook in his pants from behind and pull them down further, locking your ankles behind his back.

He tilted your hips a bit more, and grasping his cock, lined up to your entrance, and started to push in. He was slow going at first, taking his time to not hurt you, but fuck that, you werent having none of that and with a roll of your hips, you deep seated him inside of you, hissing from the pure satisfaction while arching.

“Oh shit baby! are you okay?” Your reaction misread by him, you grasp his ass that flexed under your hands and you nod. “Fuck yes, I wanted this, go right ahead!”

Oh babygirl, he did. There was no slowing him down once he knew just what you were looking for. Deep long thrusts filling you, hips rotating to reach all those sensitive spots that had you at first moaning and panting but turned quickly into chanting, your head tipping back against the car door and digging your fingernails into his back, tightening your legs, just drawing him in against you, rutting harder and harder into you.

The broadness of his chest, was friction to your entire body, burning. His mouth traveled down the length of your neck, nipping right at pulse points, and sucking to leave love bites in place. Yea hickeys were a teenage game, but he loved marking you, and you loved the challenge of hiding them. The car started squeaking with the motion of him pounding into you, and you hid your face in his shoulder to keep from laughing as he grunted over you “Baby, fuck im close…. “ You glanced up, and tipped your mouth up to kiss his straining neck, That spiral that settled in your belly soon caught up to his words, and your pussy clenched around his thrusting cock. Slicking a finger to help yourself along, you twirl it around your clit, and start panting. “Me to baby, together?”

Tensing up while trying to leave yourself on the edge till he was ready, his thrusts became erratic plunging and seeking out an ending, you to let go, and scream his name, while arching your entire body, waves of pleasure sparking your eyesight, and above you, his mouth fell open with a deep gasp of your name, sinking himself into you that final time and his cum filled you, coating your walls while you milked him for all of it rolling your hips and clenching around him. His thrusts started to slow, and the car stopped swaying once he stopped and using an elbow next to you, he half leaned against you. His ragged breaths blew hotly against your shoulder and you nuzzled your own face into his neck, breathing him in deeply. You two were simply enjoying the moment when there was a knock on the window and a flashlight shinning in on you.

“Fuck!” He jerked his hand down to the floor and snatched your tank top to cover your chest, lifting his other hand to shield his eyes. Scrambling, him pulling up his pants, and you ducking behind him, he rolled down the window to see a officer looking away on purpose. “Uuuh sorry officer? We were just leaving.”

“I would say so son, we got a call from the closer here said your car was still parked in the lot, and there was some activity going on. How about you head on home and I wont issue a ticket, kay?” You are entirely red at this point and tugging on your clothes as fast as possible while trying to stay hidden behind him, rubbing your face in his back to keep quiet, trying not to laugh about being caught. Of course you two got caught getting randy fucked in the parking lot.

“Right now, right away, thank you officer” He said and once the officer headed away, he rolled up his window quickly and fell back in the seat, deep laughter issuing from him. You sit next to him and sputter a bit, but he wraps you in his arms and tugs you in against him, kissing your neck, or trying to. It was mostly him huffing, and you to get caught up in it. “Baby we better get home, were lucky we didnt get in trouble.”

“Yea, we probably should” He agreed, but was soon distracted in kissing you again and drawing out deep moans, a flicker of red and blue lights light up your car and you two broke apart, opening the back door and crawling out into the front seats. With a turn of the engine, you two left, the cop following you along till you were closer to home.

Once you two reached the apartment building and made it inside without anymore incidences, you shrug out of your coat while he wanders back over to his laptop and opens it up like hes about to settle into typing again. “Handsome you sure you wanna do that?” You ask as you head down the hallway towards the bedroom.

“But I thought of a perfect ending” He states, clearly distracted to your actions outside of the bedroom door. But as soon as your bra slingshots right into his chest and falls in his lap, his eyes widen as he looks up at you, your back to him, shimmying down your leggings for a second time, he snapped it shut once again. “Sorry Bryan, day late again.” He he raced down the hallway, catching you and dropping you down on the bed.

He really was living his own romantic comedy.

@what-is-your-plan-today @p8tn0lish @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @jtargaryen18

#chris evans #buzzcutchris #playing it cool #spur of the moment fic #he can pound me in the backseat #and we can bowl to

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bookandcranny · 4 years

Text

Stone Heart Gambit

Part 1 - Chapter 1

Soso likes her town, but she’s starting to think she’s never going to find a single interesting thing about it. There’s a supermarket, a park, a few family-owned shops and eateries that haven’t yet succumbed to the pressure put on them by the encroaching chain franchises. Pretty standard small-town fair, not unlike the one she grew up in.

Therein lies the problem. She’d been so excited to leave home for the first time all those semesters ago that she hadn’t considered that change doesn’t always equal improvement, and putting a hundred miles of distance between her and her old problems didn’t guarantee her a perfect new life. She doesn’t particularly miss living with her parents, rather she finds herself feeling homesick for a place she doesn’t think she’s found yet. There’s a restlessness in her-- her mom claims she gets it from her dad, and vice versa. It’s plagued her in small ways all her life, in the way she finds new friendships but struggles to make them last, in the way she throws herself into new passions only to grow bored of them within weeks, in the way college had seemed so thrilling and full of promise when she was a bright-eyed freshman and now here she is, on indefinite academic leave, struggling to remember what it was she saw in the place that was worth a lifetime of student loans.

She only has so long to figure it out too. She wants to finish her degree, she does, but art requires inspiration and there’s only so much to photograph in a town whose main export is cow shit and stale gossip. If she changes her major again at this point her advisor is for real going to mount her head on a pike outside the bursar’s office, so she has to at least try.

It doesn’t help that she’s pretty much limited to the immediate vicinity surrounding her housing co-op until she either manages to get herself a car or the bus drivers union wins their latest standoff with city hall. Cars cost money though, which means getting a real fulltime job, which she expects will spell the end for any lingering chance of her going back to school anyway. The snake devours its tail, and Soso commutes by bike.

Soso’s handy; she’s confident she can fix anything given enough time, the right tools, and a couple reliable video tutorials. That, among other odd jobs, is her main preoccupation right now. It’s something, but she can’t picture herself changing tires and cleaning out gutters for elderly neighbors to support her Chinese takeout dependency forever. At the rate she’s going, her best customers are going to start dying off before she graduates.

On that morbid note, Soso decides she needs to get out of the house. She slings her bag over her back just in case she manages to run into something photo-worthy and grabs her bike. It’s a brisk autumn afternoon and the fresh air is just what she needs.

On the way out she runs into one of her housemates, Carmen the highly caffeinated, returning from campus looking frazzled. Soso isn’t particularly close with any of her housemates, frequently as they tend to come and go, but that doesn’t stop her from offering her sympathies.

“Any luck with the research?”

Carmen groans. “My paper is doomed. Remind me why I thought ‘modern impact of classical mythology’ was a good choice for my level 300 history course?”

“Uh, beats me.” In reality she thinks it sounds like a fun subject, but it doesn’t feel her place to say so given that while Carmen’s been slaving away at the school library, she’s spent the better of her day half-watching questionable documentaries on alien conspiracies.

“Ensfield is full of weird old superstitions and legends,” she goes on frustratedly. “The old bridge makes it on one of those ‘top 10 spooky locations’ lists like once a month. Complain about a cough to the wrong person and suddenly you get people telling you you’re hexed and you need to walk in a circle counter-clockwise under the new moon to get rid of it.”

She’s pretty sure that’s not a thing, but nods anyway, waiting for the point she hopes is coming.

“You’d think the library in a town like this would have better sources on mythology. But no, all I get is a shrug and the same three books everyone else in the class is using. If I want to bump up my GPA, I need something you can’t just find on Wikipedia.”

Another one of their housemates crawls out from the shrubbery by the porch. “Maybe you should try that other library.”

“Jesus!” Carmen jumps. “What are you doing down there?”

Phoebe brushes dirt off her knees. “I saw a black cat go into the gap.” She points at a thin crack in the woodwork. “Halloween is coming. Any cats, especially black ones, you see wandering around need to be brought to the shelter pronto. People do terrible things to them if they see them wandering around this time of year.”

Soso squints. “Looks too small to fit a cat.”

“I saw what I saw. Anyway, there’s supposed to be an old town library way past the woods, thataway.” She points. “Guy who works there is really weird I heard but almost no one goes there anymore so you’d have first pick.”

Carmen looks thoughtful. “I think I’ve heard of it. I kind of thought it was just something people made up.”

“Nah, it’s real. My brother’s fraternity brings freshman there to haze them. They tell them to go up and throw eggs at the place and then ditch ‘em in the woods.”

Soso blinks. “Why?”

She shrugs. “It’s just a thing they do. It sucks and it’s totally immature but no one ever accused those guys of being creative.”

“Whatever,” Carmen says. “I’m done with books for today. I’m gonna go inside and enjoy some nice brain-rotting TV.”

“Good call, honestly. If you get caught hanging around that place too much they’ll probably start egging us next.”

Carmen heads inside and Phoebe goes back to making little coaxing noises at the gap in the porch. Soso frowns to herself. Sometimes she feels like people in this town purposely go out of their way to ruin anything that could be the slightest bit different. It’s probably just a normal library that happened to be in a weird spot, run by a typical cranky old librarian. Even if it is nothing it probably has more to offer than spending the rest of her day throwing french-fries to birds and squirrels in the Burger Beast parking lot.

“Hey Phoebe,” she says. “Where did you say that library was?”

The trip is longer than she had anticipated. Her legs are strong but the sun’s getting low enough that she worries she’ll be riding home in the dark. A generous part of it she blames on Phoebe’s vague directions, scribbled into a patchwork paper map of hear-say more than anything else. Despite this she continues. She’s snapped a few pictures of the foliage in its brilliant reds and golds, so if all else is a bust at least she won’t have completely wasted her time. Worst case scenario, she returns home with a little extra muscle on her calves from all the pedaling.

Well, the real worst case scenario is probably more along the lines of her getting caught by an axe murderer and left to rot in the spooky woods, another ghost for the local repertoire. Even then, at least she won’t have to worry about the next family phone call if she’s dead.

Grim musings aside, she loops back and manages to find the correct path, a trampled dirt road half-hidden under the leaf litter, and at last make her way to the fabled “other library”. It’s one of those old brick buildings, surrounded by a low fence that struggles to hold its own against the climbing vines and insects nibbling at its posts. It’s early enough in the season that their collective buzz-chirp-hum still fills the air, though otherwise it is almost eerily quiet. It’s strangely peaceful, Soso thinks as she wades through wild patches of tall grass, as if she were returning to somewhere familiar.

The place is clearly abandoned, she decides, sunlight refracting off the firmly shuttered windows. It’s a cool discovery to be sure, but she ought to have known a mysterious library in the woods with an equally mysterious shut-in tending it was too much to expect from a town like Ensfield. That doesn’t stop her from exploring though. She likes it here, and she especially likes the gorgeous, ancient-looking gargoyle that sits in front of the steps leading up to the entrance, like one of those stone lions that stand guard outside of libraries of greater fame than this one.

The thing is magnificent, as well as truly hideous, its face twisted in a snarl so visceral and strikingly lifelike that it sends a genuine chill down her spine. The attention to detail, to carving out each individual wrinkle of flesh, is astounding. The stance the stone creature is frozen in comes off much more threatening than the regal intensity she might have expected, and it seems to her a counterintuitive choice of décor, but one the artist in her wholeheartedly approves of.

Propping her bike up against the stairs she crouches in the shadow of the gargoyle to get a better look. Organic shapes like vines encircle the beast, so lifelike that feels compelled to touch, as if they might fall away under her fingertips. Just as she reaches out however, the front doors of the library swing open and a stout, middle-aged man rushes out.

“Don’t- who- don’t touch that! It’s- it’s not-“ he stammers. “It’s an antique. Very breakable.”

The man is well-dressed, but his head of yellow hair is mussed to one side, like he’s just woken from a nap, enforced by the wrinkles he anxiously tries to smooth out of his vest. His eyes are a shocking shade of spring green.

“Sorry?” Soso offers, still recovering from the fright. She pulls her hand back guiltily and he seems to relax. How fragile could something made of stone be, she wonders, that he would work himself up into such a state over it. “Uh, is this the library?”

The man finishes straightening himself out before he responds. “That’s what you’re here for? Books?”

“What else?” she asks. His eyes remain narrow with scrutiny, so she adds, “Books on mythology. It’s for a school project. I heard… I am in the right place, right?”

There’s a copper plaque by the door that reads “North Ensfield Public Library”, but at this point she’d be as willing to accept that she wandered into a random person’s front yard, for how he looks at her. After another awkward pause, the man turns back towards the entrance and gestures for her to follow.

“Sorry about that. I don’t see many regular patrons anymore, not for a while now. Pardon the mess.” He speaks quickly, not leaving any room for interruption.

There isn’t much mess to pardon, not really. In fact, the shelves look well organized, if a bit dusty, and the space isn’t as cramped or cluttered as she had expected from the outside. A certain saying about books and covers comes to mind, but she doesn’t think her host would appreciate the joke. It’s no wonder he doesn’t see many people if he acts this way with everyone. Soso bumps into a table and nearly upsets what seems to be a pyramid assembled from various glasses, topped with an upside-down teapot.

“Do you live here?” she asks before she can curtail her curiosity.

“I’m a librarian,” he answers. “This is a library.”

“Right, but that doesn’t…” she fumbles.

“Do Canadians not live in Canada? Do Norwegians not live in Norway?”

“Vegetarians don’t live in vegetables,” she counters.

He considers that. “Well-played.”

Soso laughs despite herself and, to her surprise, things seem to go more smoothly after that. She continues speaking with the librarian and learns that his name is Surehouser, though if there’s a first name attached to that one, she doesn’t catch it. He’s certainly as eccentric as the rumors had led her to believe, but he seems harmless, and quite frankly more than a little lonesome. She doesn’t know how a person could be anything else, living like this.

He’s not friendly or unfriendly; his words have a measured quality to them, as if he’s afraid of saying too much. Soso gets the impression, as the sole carer for this seemingly ancient place, his occupation is more out of a sense of obligation than a passion for literature. He looks the part of the academic for sure, down to the silver that threads through his hair and the half-moon reading glasses folded in the front of his shirt, but his eyes track her as she browses like he doesn’t know what to do with someone who actually wants to check out a book.

“Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?” he asks after she’s been at it for a while.

She doesn’t want to admit that not only is she not sure, since it’s not really her class she needs it for, but that whatever organizational system is in place here is totally incomprehensible to her. “Anything you have should be good.”

Which is how she ends up checking out way more than she meant to, sending up a tiny prayer that her comparatively tiny backpack can rise to the occasion. Surehouser gives her a look like he knows what’s going through her head as he leads her to the front desk. There’s no computer in sight, just a leatherbound book of names and dates and a thick rubber stamp.

“On my way out, would you mind if I took some pictures of that statue you have out front? For my project.” She adds that last part as an afterthought, then regrets it right away. She’s a notoriously terrible liar and the more she enforces the threads of this pointless story she’s weaving, the more awkward she feels.

He frowns and says, more to himself than to her, “I always thought that old thing was a bit gaudy myself. I’d have gotten rid of it ages ago if I could.”

Something about the way he says it strikes her as strange. Not knowing how to respond, she simply says, “I don’t know, I think it’s cool.”

He laughs. Or, she thinks that’s what it is. The sound is gentle but rusty at the edges. “I suppose you would. Feel free to do whatever you want, only do not touch it, and be careful.”

She walks down the stone steps, her haul unexpectedly light on her back, and pauses to look at the gargoyle once more. The light isn’t any good right now, but she’ll be back.

“See you later,” she tells it.

Sure enough, the next day she’s back. She hadn’t actually planned to be such a regular, but she’d been unable to keep the place from her mind, and it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do. Carmen had looked about to cry when Soso showed her the books she’d picked out. The ones she didn’t need for her paper, Soso decided to flip through herself and had found herself more invested than she’d counted on. The book on obscure pagan deities she’d selected, though dense and confusing in places, was particularly interesting. Before she knew it, she was finished, and thus had the perfect excuse to go back.

“This guy kinda looks like you, don’t you think?” She holds the page open so that the gargoyle could “see” it. Despite arriving at noon on a Wednesday, the library seems to be truly closed today and no amount of knocking had managed to change its mind. Since she’d already come all this way, she figured she might as well find some other way to entertain herself before heading home.

“The horns are all wrong, but the general look is there. He could be, like, your second cousin,” she tells the statue.

The statue doesn’t respond, obviously, but Soso likes talking to it regardless. She adjusts her position so she can keep reading while keeping the book within its line of sight. When it’s time to leave, she turns to it and says,

“Keep an eye on that guy who runs the place for me. He’s weird, and should really keep more regular hours, but he’s nice, and I think being alone out here is making him a little…” She makes a spiraling motion with her finger. “Guess I’m not one to talk though. I’m chatting with a hunk of rock.”

She doesn’t stop though. Maybe it’s the boredom, maybe it’s something just fundamentally Soso, but whatever the reason, she keeps coming back. Partially for the library, yes, and for the company of the strange librarian that dwells within, but primarily to have a quiet place to vent her frustrations and speak her mind, where often the only one around to judge is one who’s incapable of talking back.

Surehouser is an acquired taste, and they don’t have much in common, but he never turns Soso away on the days when her visits magically coincide with the hours of operation. He always seems to have snacks on hand and is content to let the young woman ramble on about whatever latest subject has caught her interest, which as much as she could ask of anyone really. He still speaks frustratingly little of himself, but she believes she’ll get it out of him eventually.

She’s moved from taking pictures around the library to breaking out her old sketchbook, sitting on the steps and muttering to the empty air as she tries to map the contours of the stone body before her. She’s always been visually minded, for whatever good it does her.

“My mom keeps calling and asking if I want to come home for the holidays,” she complains, holding her knees to her chest. “And I know that’s months away but if I say yes that means having to see my family in person while they interrogate me about my future. I’m not even sure I have a future.”

She paces around for a minute to work out some pins and needles and brushes back her hair where it’s been falling in her face. Feeling playful, she imagines she can feel the gargoyle’s gaze watching her.

“Oh this? Yeah, I did get a haircut, thank you for noticing. Just a couple inches off the bottom but I think it’s nice.”

She tosses her head. Nestled among her dark hair, a tip of pointed ear pokes out and she worries idly at the cartilage like she used to do when she was younger.

“You noticed that too, huh. I was born with this itty bity point to my ears. They used to stick out when I was a kid. I was kinda self-conscious about it, actually. I dreaded whenever we had a course in school about fairytales because the kids in my class would call me an elf. I started making my mom do my hair so that they were hidden and just, never grew out of the habit I guess.”

The gargoyle is without comment. She smiles.

“I knew you’d understand, dude. Us freaks have to stick together.”

The following week is a flurry of last-minute Halloween preparations. Soso herself hadn’t been planning to dress up, not having anywhere to be other than planted firmly on the couch in front of a horror B-movie marathon, but the other girls insist they decorate, as there’d been whispers in their neighborhood of pranks planned on those deemed not festive enough. According to Carmen, who had become the resident expert on local tradition since she aced her last history test, the custom of shunning those who didn’t partake was almost as firmly rooted as the decorating itself. It stemmed from a belief from ye olden days that the festivities helped to fend off ghosts and goblins and the meddling of the fae on the day when the border between their worlds was the thinnest.

“Wait, do ghosts come from the same place as fae, or do they just, like, carpool here?”

She snorts. “It depends who you ask, but a lot of people around here believe that anything that’s magical or ‘otherworldly’ in origin is technically ‘fae’. Ensfield has a whole history of convoluted fae-based superstitions. Did you know some people still leave out bowls of fresh milk for house spirits?”

“House spirits?”

“Like, brownies.”

Soso nods. “I love having milk with brownies.”

Phoebe pipes up from the kitchen. “I had a girlfriend in high school who left out offerings when she was doing her SATs.”

“Did it help?” Carmen asks. “I’ll try anything.”

Soso is no skeptic, but she’s more inclined to believe that leaving food out overnight will attract more mice than faerie blessings. The sentiment is nice, but it’s hard for her to take comfort in fairytales without remembering her childhood teasing. How much worse could it have been if it had been more than just a joke, if her ears and her daydreaming demeanor were enough to get her labeled as an outsider for life, rather than just for the span of third grade.

“Are you doing anything special for Halloween, Soso?” Carmen asks.

“You mean like leaving out bowls of milk?”

She laughs. “No, like going to a party. You can come with me to Katy’s if you want. It’ll be lowkey.”

Carmen has been making more of an effort to get to know her since she got her those books for her paper, but while Soso appreciates the thought, being a plus-one at a stranger’s party where everyone knows each other from the classes she’s still not attending doesn’t sound like her idea of a good time.

“No thanks. Someone’s gotta stay and hand out candy to the trick or treaters, right?”

“Good point. Did you pick up candy?”

“Not yet, but I’ll do it.”

“Just don’t put it off until the night of.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

That is exactly what happened. October 31st finds Soso standing in line with a back of candy under each arm. Their neighborhood isn’t exactly kid-heavy, but better safe than TP’d she figures. She’s nearing the register when a pair of college-age boys stumble in, looking conspicuously red around the whites of their eyes. She sighs inwardly as they wander around, talking just a bit too loud for comfort, and does her best to ignore them even as they get in line behind her. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she notices that there is nothing in their baskets except a two-liter bottle of off-brand soda, a box of marshmallow snackcakes, and about four cartons of eggs, each.

It almost doesn’t click for her until she remembers what Phoebe said about the frat bros and their hazing. That paired with it being a night notorious for pranks by idiot teens is enough to get her nervous. After making her purchase she lingers outside the store for a moment and watches as the boys climb into a car and drive away in the direction of the woods.

It might still be a coincidence, they might be heading to some other destination that just so happens to be in that direction as well, but the image of some stupid stoners invading her sanctuary makes her hackles raise all the same. She starts pedaling after them, following just far enough behind so as not to be spotted in the swiftly fading light.

#fantasy #writeblr #original fiction #my writing #project: stone heart gambit

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