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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

Text

Kismet

ADG Jimin

masterlist

hello my darlings! here’s an update to tide you over till I get back! Hope you all enjoy, this has been a fun one to write.--- chaotic puff

Jimin stared out the window of his city apartment. He’d had a long day. One of his girls had gotten out of line and had to be dealt with. He never enjoyed having to dispose of the girls, but there were rules that had to be followed. This one just didn’t seem to understand that. She’d been a recent edition to his higher class girls, and she’d let that go to her head, especially as there was still a vacuum left behind from Sen’s resignation. Stupid girl thought that she could be Suga’s new go to, possibly even Hoseok’s.

The chic didn’t seem to have the brains needed to listen and comprehend the news that Suga had a wife or that fact that Hoseok had a fiancee, and she’d acted on the idiot idea that she could be a mistress to one of the big bosses. The disrespect of approaching one of the big bosses, unasked, just couldn’t be tolerated especially when they took offense. Yoongi might not have admitted to himself that he was in love with his wife, but he was a faithful man and the mere assumption that he would take a mistress was insulting. Suga was not a man you wanted to insult.

“Jimin?” a soft voice called out before a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind and resting her cheek against his back. “Are you okay, babe?”

He sighed forcing himself to relax into her arms. It was okay. Everything was okay when he was with her. “I’m fine, kitten. Just a little stressed.” he promised, lifting one of her hands to place a kiss on her palm. He pulled her hand back, turning it to admire the large ring that sat proudly upon her left hand.

“Come back to bed.” she purred, as Jimin pulled her in front of him. “I can do that thing you like.” she offered with a playful grin.

He leaned down with a grin of his own, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose which made her face scrunch up in that adorable way he loved. “Let’s go back to bed.” he agreed, abruptly swooping her up into his arms earning himself a startled but delighted squeak.

“Jimin!”

“You know I love you right?” he asked as he set her down on their bed, hovering over her, assuring himself that she was still here with him, that she was his.

“Of course I do.” she gently brought her hands up to cup his cheeks. “I love you too.” the words flowed out as if they were the most natural thing in the world, and he could only hope it stayed that way.

“What’s going on, Jimin?” she asked, staring up at him in worry. “You’ve been out of it today. Is everything okay at the office?”

Seori didn’t know about his work. She didn’t know about his life outside of the carefully constructed narrative he’d fed to her since they’d first met. With any luck she wouldn’t have to know, not for a long long time, hopefully after they were married and maybe even after they had kids… definitely after they had kids, but that was a fairly long way off still. He’d only just put a ring on her finger. He couldn't risk anything going wrong. She was so good, too good and nothing like the women he worked with on a daily basis. He knew that if she found out who he really was, what his job entailed, she would leave him, so he needed to make sure that never happened.

“Everything’s fine, kitten.” he assured, resting his forehead against hers, his lips just barely brushing against hers. Her fingers gently carded through his hair, just the way he liked. “Just a long day.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay? I don’t know what I would do without you.” she hummed, lightly brushing the tip of her nose against him.

“I promise.” he grinned, leaning down to start trailing kisses up her neck, lightly brushing away the gossamer fabric of her skimpy robe. “Now what was that about you doing that thing I like?”

----

The first time Jimin had seen Son Seori had been at a gallery event that Taehyung had dragged him to. There were plenty of beautiful women there, and Jimin dealt with beautiful women on a daily basis, but Seori had a softer look than he was used to and a far more professional one.

She held her head high with the self assurance of a woman who knew she belonged, a woman who knew what she was doing. It wasn’t the same confidence he saw in her girls. This had nothing to do with sex appeal. She knew she was beautiful. That was clear in the way the dress hugged her figure and the way she moved. It had nothing to do with that though. It had everything to do with being in her element. Here among the paintings and the artists, she was completely at ease. She was a goddess among men, and it confused him how no one else seemed to notice that.

No one was looking at her. No one was falling at her feet. How didn’t they notice the way the flyaway strands of hair fell from her updo to lay enticingly on her neck? How did they miss the elegant tilt of her head as she stared at a painting. How could they all be so incredibly dense? Could they not see that this was a woman made to be worshiped? But that was all the better for him. If they wouldn’t take notice of such an angel, he would.

Jimin made his way to her side, two glasses of the proffered pomegranate spritz in hand.

“Drink?” he offered with a charming smile, bringing her attention to him, bringing those dark, fathomless eyes to focus on him.

“Thank you.” and then she smiled, and the whole world stood still.

After that they began to see each other more often. Jimin would send flowers to the gallery where she worked. She was the curator, and he couldn’t have been more proud. He took her to coffee, to art exhibitions, to fancy dinners, carefully wooing her until he was able to call her his.

The day she agreed to move in with him was one of the happiest of his life, but there was always a nagging worry at the back of his mind. What if she found out? What if she left him? To prevent one, he had to prevent the other, and so he weaved a carefully constructed web of lies to keep her by his side.

To her he was a businessman, a very successful businessman. She knew nothing about the girls or the drugs, nothing about the underbelly of society, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. They were happy within his web of lies. They were safe, and he didn’t want to think of what would happen when that blissful ignorance was no longer there.

----

“Jimin?” Seori called, entering the apartment looking for her fiance after having a lovely coffee date with a friend and talking over the upcoming showcase at the gallery. “Jimin, are you home?”

“In here, babe!” Jimin called from the direction of the bedroom, and Seori started to make her way there, only to stop as Jimin’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

“Babe, your phone is ringing.” There wasn’t an answer from him, so she made her way to the phone and answered, not even noticing that it was his work phone, a phone she wasn’t supposed to touch let alone answer. “Hello?” She’d barely gotten the work out before the person on the other line started talking in a rush.

“Jimin!” the voice on the other side of the line barked. “I need you to get here ASAP. Aerie decided to be a little feisty today, and she stabbed me in the leg. She was trying to get out, the little bitch.” the deep voice on the other end of the line growled freezing Seori in place. “I need you to get your ass over here and help.”

“I’m sorry.” she stuttered. “I think you have the wrong number.”

The phone was ripped from her grasp as an arm wrapped around her waist. “Tae?” Jimin asked, listening with a stony expression she was not used to as the man on the other end of the line spoke. “I’ll be there soon.” he sighed, tightening his grip around her slightly. “Call Jin to help with the bleeding.”

“Jimin.” her voice was barely above a horrified whisper as he hung up the phone. “Jimin, what’s going on? Who was that?”

“Baby, you know you’re not supposed to answer my work phone.” He turned her around, gently cupping her face as he shushed her, softly scolding her. “It’s alright. It’s just a colleague. It’s fine.” His words did nothing to make her feel better.

“What did he mean stabbed? Is he keeping a woman hostage? What the hell, Jimin?” Jimin didn’t like the way she was looking at him. She’d never looked at him like that before. She’d never been afraid of him before, and seeing her beautiful eyes looking at him with so much fear cut him like a knife.

“It’s okay, baby.” he promised, desperately trying to find a way out of this situation. She wasn’t supposed to answer his phone. She wasn’t supposed to know yet. “I promise it’s okay. I have to take care of this, but I’ll be home soon, and we can talk about this, okay?”

She brushed his hands away, stepping back. “What the hell are you involved in, Jimin?”

“Baby… baby, please.” he reached for her, but she flinched back. “Just… just stay here. I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back, okay?”

“No.” she shook her head. “You explain now. What the fuck are you involved in?” Her voice rose, and Jimin winced. It was rare that she raised her voice let alone cursed.

“Baby…”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me.” she crossed her arms under her chest, leveling him with a hard stare. “What is going on?”

“Seori-ah…” he took a step forward reaching for her, but she stepped back, her jaw clenched in a way that told him that she was furious. “Just let me explain…”

“Fine.” she huffed. “Talk.”

“It’s my job, baby. I shouldn’t have lied to you, and I’m sorry for that, but I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“Danger? You work at an office…” she blinked slowly before cursing under her breath. “You don’t work at an office.” he shook his head guiltily. “Organized crime?”

“It’s not as bad as you think, baby.”

“And just how bad is it, baby?” The endearment was colored with a curt sort of sarcasm that didn’t sit well with him, but she had every right to be upset at the moment. He was prepared for her to be upset, but he had planned for her to find out when they were in a controlled environment, and not when he needed to go take care of a problem at work. This was not how he wanted her finding out.

He sighed, running a hand through the dyed blond strand of his hair. Typically she would have stepped forward to smooth down the now mussed hair, but she made no such move. “Have you heard of BTS?”

“No…” the word was barely breathed out as she made the connection. “Tell me you’re… you’re not?” she hissed, fighting back tears. Of all the groups he could have been affiliated with, BTS was the worst of them.

“Baby…” he stepped forward again, but she wasn’t having it.

“Jimin…” she whispered horrified, backing up even further until she was pressed against the counter. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jimin. I’m your Jimin.” he urged, matching the distance between them to press a kiss to her forehead despite the way she flinched away from him. “Just stay here. I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back, just stay here.”

“You lied to me.”

“I know.”

“You said you loved me.”

“I do.” he was fervent, nearly desperate as he held her shoulders. “I have always loved you.”

“Just go.” she whispered, pushing him away.”

He hated to leave her, especially like this, but his brother needed him. For now he would have to trust that she trusted him enough to stay and hear him out. Apparently, she did not.

---

Seori was reeling. In a matter of minutes her entire life had been turned upside down. Her fiance wasn’t who he said he was, and nothing made sense anymore. He was a criminal. He admitted to being a criminal despite knowing her feelings on organized crime.

He knew that her father had been collateral damage in a mob hit when she was a teen. Her oldest brother had been killed in the line of duty. He’d been a cop. Her other brother was a cop working in the organized crime unit, working to bring down the same people who’d ripped their family apart. Jimin knew all of this, and he never said a thing. He just continued to lie to her, to string her along, and she believed every lie he’d fed to her like an idiot.

She should have known. There had been signs. Two and a half years they’d been together, of course there were signs, but she’d ignored them all. She ignored late nights, the vague descriptions of his work. She’d ignored the less than plausible explanation for the cut to his forehead just last year. He’d even gone on a surprise business trip right after. She knew something wasn’t right, and yet she’d ignored it all, because she loved him. She loved him, and she trusted that he wouldn’t lie to her. It was naïve. Worse, it was stupid, and she should have known better.

It didn’t take her long to pack up the essentials, things she didn’t want to leave behind: a pressed flower from the first bouquet Jimin ever brought her, the exhibit list from their first date, things she couldn’t bear to part with despite what she knew, and then she was left staring at an apartment wondering if she was making the right decision.

He’d asked her to stay. He’d begged her, but she couldn’t. Knowing what she knew, she couldn’t stay. What was she supposed to tell her family if she stayed? How would she explain to her mother, to her brother how she was involved with Jimin? Or was she supposed to lie to them for the rest of her life too? No. She couldn’t do that. She loved Jimin, but she didn’t trust him anymore. She couldn’t stay.

She left the apartment leaving behind a note and her engagement ring, and she could only pray that Jimin would understand. He probably wouldn’t. She knew that. Jimin loved with every fiber of his being, and this would wreck him. She had to do what would be best for her though, and that wasn’t Jimin anymore.

Seori called a cab and made her way home to her mother’s house. It was the only place she could go. Her mother wouldn’t ask questions. She’d make her a bowl of soup, and tell her she looked too thin, and she’d leave her to grieve. If there was one thing her mother understood, it was grief.

“Eomma?” Her mother opened the door, ever cautious after the loss of her husband and oldest child.

“Seori-ah.” her mother opened the door all the way, opening her arms already knowing something was wrong. Seori dived into her mother’s arms, abandoning her luggage as she sobbed into her mother’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, my girl?”

“Jimin and I broke up.” she whimpered as her mother stroked her hair.

“Come.” her mother ordered, ushering her into the house. “I’ll make tea.”

There was something so odd and yet incredibly comforting about being home again. She was back in her old room. She was helping her mother cook, she was getting picked on by her brother, and much like always, no one was talking about the problem. Neither of them pried into why she was home instead of with Jimin. Granted, neither of them knew Jimin well so they didn’t have a high opinion of him, especially since he managed to convince her to move in with him.

She could count the number of times Jimin had met her family on one hand and still have fingers left over. It made sense now. Why would a mobster in one of the most feared gangs in all of Asia want to spend time with a cop, especially one worked in the organized crime division? It begged the question of why he had even pursued her to begin with. Was she a pawn to keep an eye on her brother? Was he just that stupid that he would date a cop’s sister? Had he actually loved her? None of it made sense, and she didn’t think it ever would.

She’d turned off her phone when she’d gone home. She was sure that Jimin had tried to call, but she didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want to hear his excuses. She didn’t want to be swayed by whatever apologies he offered.She’d even gone so far as to take time off work in case he went looking for her at the gallery. Despite knowing what she knew now, she still loved him. She loved him, but she couldn't be with him.

“Hey, sis?” her brother popped his head into her room. “I’m ordering chicken and beer. You want some?”

“Sure.” she unfolded herself from her seat and followed him out. What better way to forget her sorrows than to get drunk and eat chicken with her brother?

---

It had been an awful day, an awful day made worse by Hobi’s girl escaping and then Y/N going into labor. He couldn’t do anything about the labor, and Iyla was back where she belonged, but all of that on top of Tae’s stabbing had made for a long, long day, one he couldn’t afford. He had Seori waiting at home for him, confused and angry, and he needed to be with her. He needed to explain what was going on.

He was tired and grumpy and already so much later returning home than he wanted to be, but he didn’t want to return to her empty handed, not after the mess he’d left behind. He got home with flowers in hand, ready to see his fiancee, but the house was dark and quiet.

“Seori?” he called while taking off his shoes. “Baby?” he called again, walking further into the apartment. “Baby, I know you’re mad, but I can explain.” Still there was nothing. “Baby?”

A flash of something sparkling in the dim light caught his attention, bringing him to the kitchen counter. Sitting there was a piece of paper and the engagement ring he’d slipped onto her finger just last week. A cold, horrible feeling swept through him. It couldn’t be.

In a panic, Jimin ran through the apartment looking for her. The bed was made with no sign that she’d slept there. A good portion of her clothes were missing from the closet. Her luggage was gone, and yet he still held out hope that she was just hiding somewhere, that this was all a horrible misunderstanding.

She wouldn’t leave him. She’d promised to stay. She’d promised to hear him out, and she loved him. She loved him just as much as he loved her. Of that he was certain. She was just confused and frightened. That was alright. He could fix that. He just had to find her first.

“Seori!” he called out desperately, gripping his hair in frustration. “Seori, please!”

But there was no response. The apartment reamined horribly silent and still. He finally had to admit that she was gone. He was quick to run back to the kitchen, back to the ring and the note. He was desperate as he scanned over her words, and it was definitely her words. That was her handwriting. The quick, cute strokes of the letters were something he knew well from the notes and letters they’d exchanged throughout the years. Despite knowing that though, he still found it hard to believe that this was from her. The words on that page told him that she’d left him, and that she wasn’t coming back, and he just couldn’t believe that.

He tried calling her, over and over again, but each time, her phone gave him the same automated message stating that the number he was trying to reach was unavailable. She was gone, and he couldn’t even call her. He couldn’t make sure she was okay.

Without thinking, Jimin picked up a vase resting on the counter and flung it across the room, watching it shatter against the far wall. It was the beginning of a long rampage. Every picture of them was left broken. The flowers he’d brought home for her lay in a wilted trampled heap on the ground. The clothes of hers that remained in their closet were ripped and scattered across the bedroom floor. By the time that Jimin had worked through his tantrum not one corner of the apartment was left untouched by his rage.

He sat on the floor, feet bleeding from the broken glass that seemed to litter the entire apartment in varying amounts. The only thing left untouched was the ring, her ring. It sat forlornly in Jimin’s hands as he stared at it. He’d had it specially made for her. He couldn’t give just any ring to someone as divine as Seori. He’d been sure to design a ring that was as lovely as she was and unique enough to speak to her artistic soul. It had turned out to be the perfect ring for her, and he’d been so incredibly proud to be able to place it on her finger. It had been blissful, but it was equally heart rending to see it now cold and abandoned just like he was. And yet it had the audacity to sparkle in the dim light when he felt like all the light had been sucked from the world.

He wanted to throw it across the room, to let it join the rest of the mess. He wanted to destroy it, but he couldn’t. This was Seori’s ring, and it would sit on her finger again. Seori would be with him again. Eventually, Jimin picked himself up from the floor and began to clean the mess he’d created. He didn’t want Seori to come back to such a mess. She always kept their home so nice. He didn’t want her to see this. She’d come home again. She had to.

Jimin tried to reach her for days. He went to the gallery. He called. He even tried to send her emails, but there was no sign of her. He hoped, for the first few days, that she would return home, that she’d only gone to cool off, but that wasn’t the case. She didn’t return, not to work and not to their home.

He knew she had probably gone to her mother’s house, but he couldn’t follow her there. Her family wasn’t particularly welcoming to him. The loss of both the father and eldest son had hardened them, and Chansol, her brother, was naturally wary due to his work. They didn’t know him or like him well enough to allow him access to her, and breaking into a cop’s house was exactly the kind of trouble that he’d promised Namjoon he wouldn’t get into when he’d first started dating Seori. He’d promised not to do anything that would endanger himself or BTS.

He’d been practically feral the first week without her. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t work. And all the time he held out hope that she’d come back to him of her own will, but she didn’t, and it rekindled his rage. Although now it found a new outlet.

It was all Taehyung’s fault. If Taehyung hadn’t called, if he had been able to control his woman, none of this would have happened. Seori would be safe at home with him and none the wiser about what he did for a living. It was all his fault, and Jimin was sure to let him know.

“Jimin!” Tae yelped as the shorter man slammed him against the wall. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your fault!” he screamed practically vibrating with rage. “It’s your fault she’s gone!”

“What are you talking about?” Tae hissed, wincing as he began to feel the bump that had formed on the back of his head only to groan in pain as Jimin’s fist connected to his face. “That the hell, Park?”

“If you could keep your bitch under control, none of this would have happened.”

“Is this about Seori?” Tae’s lips pulled down in a frown as the pieces fell into place. “Jimin, I had nothing to do with her leav…”

“If you hadn’t called…” Jimin hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously. “If you hadn’t called, she’d still be home with me.”

Taehyung sighed, pushing Jimin away from him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, but it’s not my fault she left. You should have locked her down a long time ago.”

“She wasn’t going to run. She loves me.” his fists remained clenched by his side as he glared at his friend.

“She was going to find out eventually. You knew she wasn’t going to like this.”

“I was supposed to have time!” Jimin snapped, rage bubbling up again as he tugged on his hair, pacing back and forth. “I was supposed to have time.” he repeated, voice softer this time.

“What’s going on?” Tae asked, approaching him cautiously.

Jimin flopped down into a chair with a groan. “I can’t reach her. Her phone is shut off. She hasn’t come home. She’s not going to work. I don’t know what to do.”

Tae sighed sitting down next to him. “We’ll find her. She can’t have gone far. Her whole family is in Seoul.”

“Her family doesn’t like me.”

Taehyung snorted. “They don’t have to. Look at Iyla and Y/N. I don’t think either of them like Namjoon or Hoseok.” Jimin agreed with a half-hearted chuckle. “I can try to track her for you.” Tae offered, rubbing the back of his neck guilty. “If she’s smart she’s probably changed phones by now.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course I would.” Tae grinned, the thought of a challenge lighting up his eyes with fiendish delight. “Anything for family.”

And so Jimin had to start planning. He wasn’t about to let her go. They were meant for each other, and he knew that she knew it too. She just needed a little push to come to the right decision. Seori was his angel, but he was willing to drag her down to hell if it meant keeping her by his side, and she would be by his side again.

It took Taehyung no time at all to track her down, and even less time to be able to mirror her phone to his. Bugging her new apartment took a little more time and planning. They had to wait until she wasn’t home, and everything needed to be placed so that she wouldn’t notice it. But it was more than a relief for him when he could finally see her again. Yes, it was through a computer screen or his phone, but she was there. She was safe, and it would have to do until he could bring her home.

Taehyung had been right. He should have brought her to their permanent home ages ago. She would have been safer there. She never would have had the opportunity to leave him, but he’d rectify that mistake this time around. She was just frightened. Everything would be better once she was home. First he had to make sure their house was ready for her though.

He didn’t spend any time at the house at the estate. Each of them had a house there. Namjoon’s was the largest as it was the main building. He made sure each of them had their own home within the safety of the compound, little annexes for everyone, but it was rare for them to inhabit those homes before they established a family for themselves. Recently, most of those houses had gained permanent inhabitants. His would too, and he was sure Seori was going to love it.

He plastered the walls in art. He made sure that their garden was in perfect order. He even made sure she had a room to paint in. It had the best light of any room in the house and overlooked the garden beautifully. It had been a long time since Seori had had time to focus on her own artwork, but that wouldn’t be a problem once she was home. She wouldn’t need to work anymore.

In time, everything was ready for her to come home. There was just one last problem that Jimin had to take care of, that pesky brother of hers.

Chansol was always an annoyance in their relationship, and Jimin couldn’t simply whisk his love away when Chansol would cause a fuss within the police department if she went missing. Namjoon wouldn’t allow such a fuss. It was too dangerous for the family, but Jimin had a plan that would suit everyone. He just needed to put it into action.

Chansol wasn’t a hard man to track down, especially not with Jimin’s connections. It wasn’t even hard to get him alone. For a minute Jimin wondered how he’d even become a cop with what seemed like next to no observational skills or sense of self preservation. How could he not notice himself being herded into a trap? And was he really stupid enough to take an anonymous meeting with no backup? It was stupid on Chansol’s part, but it made Jimin’s all the easier.

“Chansol!” he cheered striding into the warehouse as though it were a five star restaurant. “It’s good to see you again.” A cheshire grin spread across his features as he watched the grimace flash across his brother-in-law’s face. Chansol reached for his gun, and Jimin sighed tiredly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It would make my hyung very upset.” almost immediately a red dot flashed across Chansol’s chest, stilling his movements. Yoongi was an excellent shot, and more than willing to help him. Chansol would be dead in less than a minute if he so much as made the wrong move.

“What do you want, Park?”

“I would have thought that was obvious.” he rolled his eyes, already tired of speaking with the other man. He’d never liked Seori’s brother.

“All this for my sister?” Chansol scoffed, sending Jimin a glare. “I have better things to do with my time than play your games.”

“I think you know who I am by now. Do you really want to insult me?” There was no movement from the cop, just the continued withering glare. “No? Then I suggest you watch your tone. I don’t need you alive, but it would make this all so much simpler.”

“What do you want?” he growled, bristling at the threat.

“Nothing that isn’t already mine.” he shrugged, beginning to leisurely circle the other man. “The real question is what I can do for you.”

“What do you mean, Park?”

“I have some information I think you would be interested in.”

“And why would I take anything from you?” he spat glaring at the other man despite the fact the sniper’s laser was still firmly fixated on his chest.

“Because you want to know who killed your father and brother.” Jimin watched with satisfaction as her brother stiffened, eyes going wide with shock, and a spark of yearning entering his expression as well. “How long have you been searching for answers? I can give those two you. You just have to do one little thing for me.”

“What do you want?”

“Your cooperation.”

“I’m a police officer, Park. I’m not going to cooperate with you. So you can leave me and my family alone, and go to hell.”

Jimin cocked his head to one side. “Don’t you want to avenge your father? Your elder brother? I can give you the bastards who killed them on a silver plate. I just need a little cooperation from you, but I guess you aren’t such a good son after all.” he mused nonchalantly, even though he was watching the other man’s every movement and expression like a hawk. “What would your poor mother say?”

That did the trick. Jimin could see immediately when something seemed to snap in Chansol. He was a dutiful son. His entire career was focused on bringing down the people who had killed his father and brother, taking care of his mother. He’d done everything for them, and he couldn’t allow an opportunity to avenge them to slip through his fingers.

“What do you want from me?”

Jimin smiled in triumph. “BTS wants a man on the inside.”

“I can’t…”

“Of course you can.” he scoffed, elegantly waving him off. “You’re a subpar cop at best. You’ll be able to do much more for your family working for us than you would bumbling around on your own.”

“Fine.” Chansol agreed through, gritted teeth.

“And I want your sister back.” It didn’t escape his notice how Chansol seemed to recoil from this.

“Seori is…”

“She’s already mine. There’s been a slight misunderstanding though.”

“I can’t…”

“Your sister and your cooperation, or no deal. If I walk out of here without your agreement. I will personally make sure you never find who killed your family.”

“Fine.” Chansol agreed, determination hardening his features. “Take her. Just give me the bastards who killed my father and Chanho.”

---

The first few weeks had been painful. She cried. She drank beer and ate chicken with her brother. She helped her mother cook, and she tried to forget Jimin. It was a task easier said than done. Two and a half years together could not be forgotten in a matter of weeks. He could not be forgotten in a matter of weeks, but Seori couldn’t hide at her mother’s forever. She had work, and she needed to get back to the real world, to rebuild her life.

She got a new phone and changed her number so that Jimin couldn’t contact her. She found a little apartment not too far from the gallery, and she went back to work. She’d even gotten a cat to keep her company. After so long with Jimin, it was odd to be alone. Leo, named for Leonardo Da Vinci, helped with that. He was a surprisingly affectionate feline, almost clingy, but she loved him. He filled a spot in her life that had been left empty after Jimin, and she needed that. Eventually she fell into a routine- go to work, come home, feed the cat. It was all so quiet and surprisingly normal.

Her coworkers told her that Jimin had dropped by nearly every day while she was gone, but he hadn’t been by in a while. It gave her hope that maybe he’d gotten the hint and was going to leave her alone. She missed him, but it was better this way.

She was almost done for the day, packing up her things when her brother walked through the door of the gallery.

“Chansol?” she called looking up from her bag. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d walk you home.” he told her with a smile, though something seemed off about it. Chansol had never walked her home before.

“You don’t have to do that. Besides, aren't’ you supposed to be working?” her brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not allowed to walk my little sister home and ask how her day has been?”

“You never have before.”

He shrugged, still looking unusually nervous. “I actually had somewhere I wanted to take you before I took you home.”

“Really?” she asked skeptically as she slipped on her coat, pulling her out from under the collar. He never took her anywhere except for chicken and beer. It was about the only thing they did together. She loved her brother, but she didn’t have a lot in common with him, not like he and Chanho had. “Alright then.” she agreed if not a little reluctantly.

She allowed her brother to lead her out of the gallery. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to show her, but she trusted him, that is until he led her to an alley.

“What’s going on?” She asked, looking at the dead end with suspicion.

“I’m sorry, Seori. I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” She really didn’t like the sound of that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Chansol?”

“Noona!” a new voice called as a tall very buff man with a bunny smile appeared at the entrance to the alleyway. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Hyung has been keeping you all to himself.” he pouted, and it only added to her confusion.

“Chansol?”

“I’m really sorry.”

The strange man took her arm firmly only heightening her unease. “Don’t worry. Hyung will take really good care of her.” “Chansol, what did you do?” she screamed as the man took hold of her other arm, effectively holding her in place as she struggled against him.

“I’m sorry. I had to. You have to understand that I had to.” he pleaded, taking a step towards her, but stopping at the dark look the gang member shot him.

“What did you do?”

“It’s okay, noona.” the man assured her, dragging her back out of the alley. “Hyung is really excited to see you again.” he turned his gaze on her brother, his tone a little less friendly. “You’ll be hearing from us.”

“Chansol!” she cried as she was shoved into the back of a waiting SUV, the door locking firmly behind her. “Chansol!” She screamed, banging on the window.

“It’s okay, noona.” the man cooed as he hopped into the driver’s seat. “It’s going to be alright.”

“I’m not your noona.” she hissed, yanking on the door handle even though it did nothing.

“Of course you are.” he smiled, turning his eyes to the road. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Fuck off!” she growled still yanking at the door.

“That’s not very nice.” he frowned. “You should put on your seatbelt. Hyung would be really upset if you got hurt.”

The drive continued much like that. Jungkook tried to make conversation and told her to put her seatbelt on, and she tried to escape the car, a task that proved to be impossible. By the time they arrived at their destination she was exhausted, and she looked a mess, but her captor seemed just as cheery as when they started.

“Alright, noona!” he cheered, opening her door and easily catching her as she tried to dart past him. “Time to go see hyung.”

“Let go of me!” she shrieked, fighting against him to no avail as he dragged her into the building.

“Mr. Jeon.” A woman dressed in a low cut red dress greeted with a sultry smile. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to see the boss.”

She pouted. “You’re not here to see me? I could make you feel real good.”

“No.” he scoffed, keeping a firm hold on a squirming Seori. “I have a delivery for him.”

The woman looked her up and down with distaste. “She can’t go see him dressed like that. She looks like a prude.”

A mischievous smile spread across his lips. “Fix her up then.”

A similar smile spread across the woman’s face. “You got it JK.”

Seori was dragged away and unceremoniously stripped of her coat by a gaggle of scantily clad women.

“Jas….” one of them whined, looking at her outfit. “She’s all covered up. You can’t send her up looking like a nun.”

It was the second time they’d insulted her outfit tonight, and Seori was quite sure there was nothing wrong with her professional outfit: tights, heels, and a dress with sleeves that stopped just above her elbows and had a turtleneck top. It was stylish yet professional and perfect for the late October weather, but seeing women in nothing but negligees and lingerie gave her a good idea of why they thought she was a nun.

She couldn’t fight them off as they descended on her, quickly peeling off her dresses, shoes, and tights, leaving her in nothing but the plain cotton bra and panties she’d put on that morning. They didn’t even match. They all looked appalled.

“Even her lingerie is hopeless.” one of them sighed dejectedly. “You sure he asked for her?”

“I’m sure.” the one called Jas nodded. “You guys should get back to work. I’ll get her fixed up.”

“Just ‘cause Lola’s gone doesn’t mean you’re the boss.” One of them sassed.

“Lola didn’t work on sight, and she was favored.” Jas snapped back. “If you want to end up like Wendy keep that attitude up.” the girls all paled, quickly scurrying out of the room.

“What...what happened to Wendy?” she whispered, doing her best to keep herself covered as Jas looked for something to put her in.

“She got too big for her britches. The boss had to get rid of her.”

“Get rid of her?” Jas gave her an unimpressed look as if she should know what had happened already, and she had a horrible feeling that she did. “What is this place?”

“What do you think it is?” she asked coming back to her with a set that was nothing more than see through black lace. Seori didn’t answer, just stared at her apprehensively. Jas sighed. “It’s Mr. Park’s main office. He has other houses, but this is the high end one. Only the big wigs come here.”

“Is this a brothel?”

“We prefer other names, but brothel works too.” she shrugged, beginning to strip her of the last remnants of her own clothes. “Put these on.”

“Why?”

“Cause you can’t see the boss dressed like that. You’re a new girl right?” Jas seemed to be getting more exasperated with her by the minute. “Look, honey. The boss has to check out all the new girls. If he likes you, he’ll send you to a nice house. If he doesn’t you’ll go to one of the more low end houses. If you’re really lucky and pay your dues, you might even catch the eye of one of the big bosses. That’s what happened to Lola.”

She thought that maybe Jas meant those words to be comforting, but they only sent a bolt of cold fear through her. “I think there’s been a mistake.”

“A lot of us think that at first, hun. You’ll be fine. And the boss is a good lover so it won’t be so bad.” she patted her arm. “Hurry up and get dressed. You can’t keep the boss waiting.”

Shakily, Seori slipped into the set still feeling incredibly exposed. “Can I… is there anything I can cover up with?”

Jas shot her a sympathetic look. “You’ll just be stripped in a few minutes anyway. Let’s go.”

Jas took her arm in a surprisingly strong grip and led her through the place towards what had to be the boss’ office. “Good luck.” And with that, she was pushed into the room, shivering like a cat left out in the rain.

“Awww, kitten.” an achingly familiar voice cooed, and Seori thought she might throw up. “Did you miss me?”

“Jimin…” she whispered, pressing herself back against the wall.

He got up from his desk, prowling towards her. “I missed you.” he murmured, leaning in to breathe her in. God he’d missed her. “You didn’t come home.”

“We broke up.” she whimpered. Even though every fiber of her being had been conditioned to want to lean into him, she didn’t.

His head tilted to the side. “Silly, kitten. No we didn’t. We just had a fight.” He smiled, reaching up a hand to stroke her hair. “That’s all.”

“I don’t want to be with you.”

His smile changed, taking on a sharper quality. “We both know that’s a lie, kitten.”

“I can’t be with you.”

He pulled away from her with a sigh, and she took the opportunity to slip away from the door, away from him and more towards the middle of the room. “I suppose that that’s your choice, kitten, but you should know all the options before you decide.”

“Don’t call me that.” she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he started backing her towards his desk.. “You’re mine. I can call you whatever I please.”

“I’m not yours anymore.”

“Unfortunately for you, but very fortunately for me, you do. Ask your brother.”

“Chansol would never…”

“Chansol would do anything to avenge your father and brother.” Jimin scoffed, voice sharp and dangerous. It was a tone he didn’t take with her, and it shut her up almost immediately. “He’d even give up his previous little sister and agree to work with the very people he’s supposed to be putting behind bars.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He would.” Jimin chimed, looking far too pleased with himself. “Now, you have two options, kitten.” he drawled lazily, suddenly relaxed again. “You either come back to me, or you can work as one of my girls.”

“As one of your whores?” she spat, glaring at him as he trapped her against the wood of his desk.

“It’s business.” he shrugged. “And you’re one to talk, kitten. I have videos of you acting like the little slut you are.” he chuckled yanking her head back by the hair. “What do you think would happen if you left me? I could release those videos for the whole world to see. Who do you think would take you after that?” he taunted cruelly. “And what would your poor mother and brother think of you then? I bet Chansol would feel so much less guilty about that little deal we made.”

“You wouldn’t.” her eyes were wide and horrified as she stared at him.

“I would.” He purred leaning down to nip at her neck. “I would do anything to keep you with me.”

“You’re sick.” she whimpered.

“All for you, kitten.” he cooed, suddenly lifting her up onto the desk and stepping between her legs.

“What are you…”

He shushed her, fingers playing with the hem of her panties. “Do you think anyone else would treat you as nicely?” he asked, slipping under the fabric lightly brushing against her core. “Do you think the men out there would care about your pleasure?�� he hissed, beginning to play with her clit even though she squirmed to get away from him.

“Stop.” she begged, pushing at his wrist, but Jimin would not be moved.

“They don’t care about you, kitten. No one cares about you like I do.” he pressed a kiss to her collar bone just as he dipped a finger into her core. “So wet for me already.” he grinned against her skin. “Always such a slut for daddy.”

“Stop it.” she sobbed, feeling so helpless and small against him. “Just stop it.”

“It would all be so much easier if you gave in.” he purred, pumping his fingers in and out of her. “Don’t you miss me, kitten? We could go back to the way things were. I would take care of you.”

“No!” she sobbed beating against his chest. “No, you’re a liar. You lied to me.”

“I lied to protect you.” he cooed, already feeling her crumbling against him. His poor kitten, he knew she couldn’t live without him. They were made for each other. “Don’t you want to go back to the way things were?”

“I don’t… please, just stop.”

“No.” he growled, fingering her more aggressively now. “Just give in, kitten.”

“No…” she sobbed, leaning into him helplessly.

“Just give in.” he purred, pulling away from her just as she was about to orgasm. “It’s either a life with me or a life out there.” he brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes as he tilted her chin up to look at him.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t lose you.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I love you too much to lose you.”

“Please don’t do this… Jimin, please.”

“All you have to do is give in, kitten, and everything will be like it was.” He grinned, watching her tremble. She was so close to breaking, and he knew it. “Just give in.”

“Please….” she begged. “I don’t…”

He shushed her again, pulling her closer as he began to touch her again making her whimper. “I know you were scared. That’s okay. I forgive you. It’ll all be okay. You just have to stay with me. You can do that for daddy, right kitten?”

“I’m sorry.” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. “I’m sorry, please.”

“Just one word, kitten. Just one word and everything will be like it was.” she was shaking like a leaf, and Jimin couldn't get enough of it. Watching her these past few weeks hadn’t been enough. Touching himself to the thought of her hadn’t been enough. He needed her like he needed to breathe. “You know what to do.” his words were sweet as honey as he brought her right to the edge before pulling away again.

“Yes!” she cried, crying into his shoulder. “Yes, I’m sorry, please don’t… don’t make me.”

“Shhhh, kitten.” he rubbed her back gently. “Daddy, won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jimin pulled away from her moving, taking off his suit jacket and draping it around her frame. He didn’t want anyone else looking at her as he took her home. She was for his eyes only. “Everything will be fine now.” he assured her, taking her ring out of his pocket and slipping it onto her finger, before scooping her up into his arms. “Let’s go home.”

She nodded against his shoulder, trembling like a leaf. “You made the right choice, kitten, but daddy is still going to have to punish you for worrying him so much.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, striding out of the building. “Never leave me again.”

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reidecorating · 3 years

Text

Not Just Today, but Forever

A/N: This absolutely was not requested, I was just watching 14 x 06 and the only thing my eyes could focus on was Matthew Gubler looking like he forgot he was needed for filming that day and shaved that morning with a ridged cucumber, in the dark (spoiler: patchy ass beard) but I guess we can thank him in a way because this came out of it <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k-ish words of pure fluff

Summary: Stalling on going to work because prioritising your pretty boyfriend and sleeping in is far more inviting - along with shaving his face for him.

Warnings: None, just some steamy smooches

It was the far from languid tone of his alarm that hooked through his ears and, from a blanket navy darkness, reeled Spencer Reid into the waking realm as if he were a flounder found floating too close to a fisherman’s pier in a high morning tide. He hastily reached a stiff hand to meet his eyes, joints inharmoniously clicking, forcing them open - only after he had rubbed them hard enough to see invisible neon swirls painting his eyelids. He let out a yawn and reached for the buzzing clock. It was an old thing he’d found while antiquing once, having picked it up thinking its faded sage green would bring life to the mahogany catacomb of his room. He never thought the body occupying the right side of his bed, no doubt buried in a larger portion of sheets than he currently was, would do exactly that, instead. Slowly turning onto an aching shoulder, he faced the woman sprawled out beside him, clearly unbothered by the racket of alarm bells. He admired her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall, the shadow of her smile chasing away the dark of night. Spencer’s heart grew fonder than he thought was possible at the way she stirred, leaning in his direction, yearning to be closer to him even when they were separated by sleep. Fingers parting the tangle of hair splayed across silk pillowcases - some of which he was sure had reached his mouth - he tucked it behind her ears, noticing the slight twitching of her nose subside as the tickling strands were now out of the way. Finally, Spencer planted a kiss on the apple of her cheek, fondly letting his lips linger just long enough so as to not wake her too soon.

Routine was something Spencer never kept to. The unpredictability of his life, which primarily haunted him from the second he strapped a gun to his hip and walked out the door, never left much space for it; the badge only showed that he was a protector - not protected. So, the hum of an electric toothbrush, and the grumble of a coffee machine sandwiching his simple morning cycle had become a convention he’d come to adore. Tiptoeing to shut the bathroom door, now half dressed in an incorrectly buttoned dress shirt, some boxers and one green sock, Spencer smiled to himself at the way her forehead was the only thing he could now make out beneath the sheets. Lifting the blanket, he lay back down beside her, feeling indifferent towards the creases he was aware were forming on the ironed fabric on his shoulders. He nudged her jaw with his nose. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, it’s time to get up,” Spencer giggled as she let out a groan in annoyance at his attempt to get her out of bed. “Aurora was awoken with a kiss, you need to step up your game, doctor,” she opened one eye briefly to squint at him, shutting it again and pointing her nose along with comically puckered lips in the air. “Aurora was also asleep for a hundred years, and last time I checked, you were not,” he reasoned, deliberately avoiding her request. “She was lucky, ‘m so tired,” she nuzzled her head into his chest, sighing softly as she basked in the warmth he provided, ignoring the strength of his newly applied cologne. Spencer’s hands were nearly gravitating towards his phone, fully prepared to dial in sick, and convince her to do the same. “I let you snooze for a few extra minutes,” he spoke lowly, almost believing if he spoke too loud the rest of the world would wake up, interrupting what momentarily belonged to the two of them. “You were smiling in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you,”

“Mhm, but y’should’ve,” the upturned heel of her hand stretched away from her and into the air, words jumbling together as they left her mouth, “you’re much better than’ny dream I’ve ever had,” she reached out to tousle his hair. “Oh! I’m so sorry, you’ve already done your hair,” her eyes widened before she grimaced and attempted to pat it all back down. Spencer couldn’t help himself, his smile reaching hers before their lips melded together. The hand that his head wasn’t propped on, dug through the heavy duvet to find the bone of her hip, tracing it lightly as his lips trailed along the column of her throat, careful not to leave marks.

Knowing they both had places to be, she stopped him before they travelled past a point of no return. “You hate morning breath?”

“My love for you outweighs it,” his lips hovered over hers, fluttering against them as he spoke. “Mm, poetic,” she finally caught them between hers again, the soft heat of his mouth on hers waking her up more efficiently than a shower. “Did you know that if you snore or breathe through your mouth at night, you’re more likely-“

“To have bad breath in the morning than those who don’t? Yes, Spencer, you’ve told me this before… Once or twice.” He kissed her again. “But did you know that one in two people sleep with their mouth open? All I’m saying is that I do not, so I’ll leave the rest of the deductions up to you, my genius boy.” He let out a huff of laughter, tongue pushing at the inside of his cheek as he shook his head. He hoped his eyes could say the things he couldn’t quite communicate out loud. Brown, she observed. The green in them would be brought back when the sun fully rose, only for its brightness to be put to shame by his smile. Her fingernails delicately raked along his jaw, eventually gathering at his chin, cautiously tilting his confused head from side to side. “What’re you up to?” He asked, face scrunching up in curiosity. Examining it as well as she could in the early light, she trailed her thumb away from the corner of his mouth, unshaven stubble its compass. “You missed a spot,” she noted, unabashedly examining his celestial features. Spencer raised a brow, “I may have been distracted by the beautiful girl in my bed,”

“You may be smooth, lover boy, but this beard of yours certainly isn’t,” she teased, blushing slightly. He brought up his own hand to feel at the light bristles. Defeated, he stood up in the direction of the bathroom.

Repining for the warmth of his body, having used up all her wild cards in coaxing him back into bed, she followed him to the sink. “Let me get it, please?” She politely asked as he rummaged through the cabinet for some shaving cream. Understanding how he felt about people prodding at him, like vultures to a carcass, she knew she was treading ice of a frozen Spring lake. “Considering I would’ve gone to work looking like this if it weren’t for you,” he motioned to his face with a razor, “Okay,” he nodded. She perched herself on the counter, gasping at the cool marble hitting her exposed thighs. Spencer gave her a look, cheeks red. “I can see the gears turning in your head,” she bit back a grin, pointing a finger at him. “I’m just making sure I can reach your pretty face,”

“I see,” he raised his eyebrows, the supple skin of his hands reaching to spread her knees in order for him to take his place between them. “I just don’t want you to be late to work,” he mumbled, handing you a silver razor. “Don’t worry, I’m always early. It’ll be good to let everyone think I have a life, for once,”

“I know what you mean, there was once a rumour that I actually slept beneath the BAU round table.” She laughed at that, and it was the sweetest sound to ever reach Spencer’s ears. She swirled the foam between her hands and lathered it onto his face with a feather touch, smitten with a smile at the way he crinkled his nose when his eyes flew shut. “That feels nice,” he hummed, forgetting that the cream tastes unpleasant. “Shh, shaving foam isn’t a good substitute for breakfast,” she hushed. Spencer’s hands played with the hem of her rumpled shirt, before sliding along her torso, while she tentatively worked her way through the small patches of stubble, paying close attention to the underside of his chin. Distractedly, her fingers ran along the scar tissue splayed on his neck. She kissed his temple before her mind travelled to a shadowy place. Every wrong turn had somehow led him right to her, and she needed to remind herself of that. Soon enough, she dabbed a warm cloth across his face, fawning over his beauty under the ruse of admiring her handiwork. Unable to practise self control, she littered small kisses across his cheeks before, once again, painting stamps of love over his smooth jaw, and tugging at his lips with her own, leaving them swollen when he pulled away. “Thank you,” he whispered as his forehead rested against hers, her eyes illuminated in the bathroom light. “I never tell you this enough, but I love you,”

“You’re very welcome, Spencer, and you remind me everyday, even without saying it,” Spencer gently nodded against her, his head having moved to rest against her chest. “I love you to Pluto, Spencer,” she toyed with his scalp, feeling his smile, “but you have to be in by eight, so you need to run,” she informed. He nipped at her clavicle, completely enamoured by the angel sitting on his sink, ignoring time. “I’ll be here when you get back, mister,” she gently squeezed his shoulders. Spencer gazed up at her, a silent ‘Do you promise?’ to which her eyes told him, ‘Not just today, but forever’.

#You would not believe your eyes #If Mads wisely used her time #toactuallywritesomethinglmao #anyway here's something for all you folks #spencer reid #cbs criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg fic #mgg fluff #criminal minds fic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #mggedit #matthew gray gubler imagine #mine: writing

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slightlyrebelliouswriter23 · 4 years

Text

Crashing | Jurdan Fake Hating One Shot

Written for: @poeticbrownmermaid for my 1k celebration!

Massive thank you to: @clockworkgraystairs and @sweetlyvillainous for beta reading this and holding my hand before I posted 🥺❤️

Summary: You’ve heard of fake dating. Get ready for fake hating. It’s all very romantic.

Rating: M/E for explicit language and a short, soft focus smut scene (a steam scene, if you will). The sexy parts start and stop after the ☽☽ in case you want to skip.

Masterlist

“You taste—” I’m cut off by my own giggle, which rises to my lips like my mouth is a glass and my laugh is the Champagne they’re serving at this dumb party. “You taste like bubblegum.”

Cardan looks at me funny, then snorts. “What?”

His eyes are beguiling when they’re amused. Even more beguiling when they’re amused and looking at me. They are dark intoxication. They compete against the night sky for vastness. I could swallow them whole.

We’re on the terrace under the stars outside his fancy-pants mansion. I’m sitting on the stone railing, my knees bracketing his lithe frame. His hands and lips are breathless effervescence on me.

I’m in a daring dress of red satin that I would’ve never chosen for myself had Oriana not insisted on finding us girls a tailor. It’s an elegant, backless number with an audacious slit up the side. The whole time before this in the ballroom, I could sense Cardan’s eyes eating it up while he pretended to hate me.

In this dress, I am a femme fatale spy from a film, meeting her tryst in the secret of shadows. Which is honestly not too far off from the reality of the situation, though I am no spy.

Cardan ghosts one hand up the exposed skin of my thigh. The night air is bracing as his touch.

“Jude,” he murmurs, “Are you drunk?”

He’s in a rakish black velvet suit with two blood-red rubies dangling from the pointed tips of his collar. It is decadence and sin given form. The first hour of this hell party was just that: Hell. By the time Cardan pressed a napkin into my palm with the words “Terrace. 10 min.” scrawled on it in smeared ink, I was beginning to glare at him in earnest—if only for the way he must’ve known he was teasing me.

Now, we’re making out behind two conveniently tall potted plants.

It’s all very romantic.

“I had one glass of wine, Cardan,” I say. I slide my hands from his hair and scrape my nails lightly down the column of his neck. It is heady, watching his eyes shutter. My hands slide down his chest and take up his lapels. I give them a firm tug. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I,” he says, lips hovering over my own, “Don’t believe you.” His breath fans across my face. It really does smell like bubblegum. And not the minty kind, either. I’m talking bright pink and bubblicious.

I lean back a little and stick my bottom lip out in a mock-pout. “Why not?”

“For starters,” he says, “You’re a lightweight.” He trails that damned hand down my exposed thigh again.

I shiver. “So? I also ate like twenty of those canopy things.”

“Canapés?” Cardan smirks.

“Yeah, whatever, Your Highness.”

He flashes me a grin and I’m briefly stricken into silence. “Then, what have you to say to your unprecedented giddiness this evening, Your Majesty?”

“Ew, don’t call me that.” I grimace. “I just called you ‘Your Highness’.”

“What? Scared of the implication?”

“Uh, yeah.” My brows shoot up on my forehead. “Mainly because it implies that I’m your mother.”

Cardan’s face goes slack. “Shit, really?”

I nod and bite back my grin.

“I thought they were interchangeable.”

“About as interchangeable as a fork and a spoon.”

He sputters a laugh. “Shows what I know about royalty.”

“You realise how ironic that is, don’t you?” I say, nodding pointedly in the direction of the party.

It goes on without us, spilling its mirth in great golden shafts out onto the terrace. It doesn’t touch us, though. The air is cool, clear of the preening bullshit that so regularly lathers these kinds of events. And though he makes me dizzy, Cardan is the only real thing here.

I think I like parties better this way. From the shadows. In there, we’d have to talk to people, explain ourselves. We’re supposed to hate each other. We were always supposed to hate each other.

A smile plays at the corners of Cardan’s lips as if he’s gleaned these thoughts of mine. “You haven’t answered my question.”

I narrow my eyes. “You think I’m too giddy to not be drunk.”

“Mhmm.” He nudges his nose against mine. “I’ve never heard you giggle before.” A slender finger tracks up my spine and it takes a considerable amount of concentration not to squeeze my thighs together. Goosebumps and a flush spring to my skin, anyway. “It’s delightful,” he tells me.

“Well, maybe you should work on your sense of humour.” My voice comes out shakier than I want it to.

“Maybe,” Cardan says, grabbing the back of my knee and hitching it up. “But that sounds like effort.”

I want to roll my eyes. This is exactly the reason we used to hate each other. His laziness, his arrogance, and entitlement made me want to punch him clean across his pretty cheekbones. I know my stubbornness and sharp tongue made him hate me right back.

Yet, when our worlds crumbled around us, we found ourselves crashing into each other. Entwined in a thicket of mutual understanding. Suddenly, there was so very little to hate.

We pretend to in public to keep up appearances. Everyone knows we hated each other. If we started being friendly around everyone else, people would talk. That’s the last thing we want. Even if they’d technically be right.

In private, though, Cardan is probably my most closely held secret.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still annoying as all hell. Like right now. But I’ve always liked a challenge.

I hook my leg around his back, pulling him in. My fingers card through his hair again. “I can be delightful in other ways,” I say, biting my lip.

His eyes lower to my mouth. “Oh, I’m well aware.” Cardan’s voice comes out a rasp. He cants my chin with the crook of his finger, pulling my lip from between my teeth with the pad of his thumb. He looks at me with undiluted lust. The weight of his gaze is like a dizzying nightmare.

Then, he devours me.

Our mouths slide together, slowly at first, but building in fervor. Hot and heavy, like a fever. His grip on my thigh is bruising. His other hand splays across my bare back, crushing me to him, long fingers twining in my hair. Everything turns saturated and slow.

I invade his mouth with my tongue, determined to drink him up. He tastes like bubblegum and our reconciliation. At the same time, I hook my other leg behind him so he’s pressed flush against the apex of my thighs. ☽☽

A muffled groan rolls between his teeth. “Fuck, Jude.” Cardan is growing firm beneath his trousers. The feel of it sends a curl of sweet desire, dark and throbbing, through my core.

“You’re going to have to be quieter than that,” I tease. I’m so featherbrained on the savour of his mouth, his liquid touch. My veins feel full of amber liquor instead of blood. I know I’m not drunk, and yet I feel it.

His fingers drawl back up my leg. “The question is, dear,” he says, “Can you be quiet?” The coolness of his hands sends a shock along the heat of my inner thigh.

I realise where he’s going with this and my breath hitches. My cheeks blaze. “Yes,” I tell him, though I don’t sound as confident as I should for such a high stakes rendezvous.

“Hmm,” Cardan thrums. “We’ll see about that.”

His fingers are deft and twice as sly. He hisses through his teeth when they glide over me, exploring.

As a steady rain, he begins my unravelling. His mouth covers mine, swallowing a soft whimper that escapes my throat. I want to moan his name, to curse aloud, but I can’t if we’re to stay hidden.

The thought is both terrible and exciting at once.

Cardan keeps a torturous pace. I cling to him, panting, clutching at his arms, clawing at his back. His mouth roams my jawline. His teeth tug my ear. My mind is frenetic, frenzied, and at once thick in a viscous haze.

All I can think about is how this party is so stupid and soul-sucking, but Cardan is the farthest thing from stupid and soul-sucking. About how he makes me feel very much alive. About how I like him more than anyone here, probably more than even myself.

His other arm wraps certain and solid around me as he spins my world on its side. I lean my forehead on his shoulder. He kisses my neck. I can’t help the gasps that leave me.

My heart is racing. So quickly does it pump, in time with his ministrations, I think I might turn to white lightning in a bottle before all is said and done.

I know it when I’m drawing towards that precipice. My toes curl and flex. My legs begin to quiver. My knees lock up.

“Cardan,” I gasp. “Please.”

“Can you be quiet for me, Jude?” Cardan murmurs rough against my ear. He sounds a little breathless, too.

I am so muddled, I am so close. I can only manage a soft sob in response. Now he’s doubling his efforts and oh, gods is he clever.

I bite his shoulder to keep from making a sound as I shoot over the edge, a wondrous arc so high I’m sure I scrape the stars of their dust.

My hips writhe against his palm. I pull and rake my fingers through his hair as I spiral through the five stages of sweet delirium.

He holds me through it. Presses his lips to my hair and whispers what I think must be comforting things into my ear. I can’t tell because I’m incapable of comprehending much of anything beyond myself in his arms. He strokes soft circles over my back until it’s done. ☽☽

When everything settles, I’m still clinging to him, my forehead against the sureness of his shoulder. A sheen of sweat dewing my skin.

I’ve always hated this part about intimacy. The aftermath. Everything is too quiet. The excitement is gone. You’re faced with the reality of looking at each other without the rosy filter of lust. Maybe you’ll see each other for who you really are, and that’s a scary thought.

That’s probably how I felt once with Cardan, too. Back when we started…whatever this is. But now, in this moment with him, it feels less vulnerable and more like holding someone’s hand as you stare upon something a little terrifying.

Which is why I’m able to look up at him and ask in every manner of seriousness, “Why do you taste like bubblegum?”

His responding laugh is gentle and he shakes his head. “One-track mind,” he says. I shrug and wait.

“They’re serving bubblegum cocktails at the bar inside.”

My nose crinkles. “You actually drank one of those?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“No, I think I’ll sleep quite soundly if I never do.”

Cardan gives me an awful kind of grin that makes my toes curl anew. “Didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” he says, then tucks a loose curl behind my ear. “I happen to like bubblegum cocktails.”

I give him a dubious look. I can’t help but feel that maybe we’re not talking about bubblegum cocktails anymore.

For a long moment, we just sit there staring at each other. There’s a bloom of laughter from inside the house. The clink of glasses. His eyes trace the lines of my face. I still feel drunk on him and he’s looking at me too soberly.

So I say, “You have shit taste, then,” and hop off the railing. I side-step him before beginning the task of smoothing down my dress. If I walk back into the party all flushed and disheveled, people will know what I’ve been doing—which is almost as bad as if people knew who I’ve been doing.

“Oh, you can’t say that dear,” Cardan lilts as he leans back against the balcony with all the insouciance of someone who lives in this ridiculous mansion. And rightly so, because he does. “Not when you taste equally delicious.” Then he brings his fingers, the ones that have just been inside me, to his mouth and closes his lips around them, burning gaze locked on mine.

My eyes go wide. My jaw slacks as I watch him. I’m somewhere between affronted by his audacity and completely turned on again. Which is a confusing place to be.

He laughs at my probably very foolish expression and I turn on my heel to head back to the party. I’m not actually offended. I just can’t bear to look at him while he’s tasting me off his fingers without combusting on the spot.

Cardan grabs my wrist. “Wait, wait,” he says, still laughing.

I arc a brow and turn to face him. “I’m waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and sounds earnest enough. “It’s just… you make me giddy, too.”

His words are a punch to the gut. I hadn’t realised it until he said it, but it’s true. It’s not the way he kisses me or the high of a climax, though those are surely nice things, too. It’s the way I feel when we’re together. Just his presence makes my head swim, my stomach turn flips.

He makes me feel a little bit invincible, and entirely beyond reason.

I look at him, the warm glow of the party playing off the sharp angles of his face. He’s still holding my hand, fiddling with the ruby ring I always wear.

On the crest of a breath, Cardan says, “Stay tonight.”

“Why?” I whisper, because we’ve never spent the night. I’m not sure we’d even know how.

“Because I’ll miss you terribly?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I think you’ll survive.”

“Because you’ll miss me terribly.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely survive,” I say. Even as my heart gives a squeeze. I don’t want to leave.

Not yet, not yet.

“Because you’re too intoxicated to drive home,” he says.

“I took an Uber here, Cardan,” I tell him. “And for the last time, I’m not drunk.”

“I’m not saying you’re drunk, Jude.”

He’s not grinning at me, which I think is a good sign. It means he’s not hinting at something sexual. Then again, that might also be a very bad sign. It means he’s hinting at something deeper. I’m not sure I want to get into that conversation just yet.

“Fine,” I say. I do want to stay. The thought of it sends a little thrill through me. “Hate me for an hour more. We’ll have a big argument about… something. And then I’ll tell Madoc I’m leaving.”

His hands snake around my waist. “What will we argue about tonight?”

I smile at him sweetly. “If your head is half as cunning as your fingers, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Cardan hums. “I do love it when we’re at each other’s throats.”

I roll my eyes but I’m betrayed by my laugh for not the first time tonight. Stupid punch-drunk feelings.

☽☽☽☽☽

Enjoyed this? Try: King | Wicked Game | We’re All Mad Here

Masterlist

AN: So this was supposed to be a drabble for my 1k celebration but my hand slipped and whoops! It’s 2.5K words. I really hope you enjoyed this secret tryst one shot. I had so much fun writing it. If you liked this and want to see more from me, comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated!

I have a tag list so if you’d like to be added to that, let me know in the comments/my messages/inbox and I’d be happy to add you! I also recently jumped on the Twitter/Instagram bandwagon. You can follow me @/rebelwriter23 on Twitter and @/slightlyrebelliouswriter23 on Instagram.

Back to the forest now. -Em 🖤💫

Title Inspo: Crashing- Illenium

Tag List: @velarhysismine @knifewifejude @the-mithridatism-of-jude-duarte @clockworkgraystairs @thesirenwashere @judexcardanxgreenbriar @nite0wl29 @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @whocares-idont @babycardan @sweetlyvillainous @aesthetics-11 @storiesandschemes @jurdanhell @poeticbrownmermaid @thechainofiron @random-llama-socks @villanellevi @lady-thea-of-narnia @b00kworm @flowersinvegas @vanessa172003 @cardanstrickytail @queen-of-glass @doingmyrainbow @words-of-the-wise @scarznstars @charincharge @fizziefaerie @fateandluminary @tessas-herondales @styles-taylor @jyoti96 @losssssstttttt @transbordeamento @katsemkitgostadetog @gloriouspalacebakerylawyer @woodsbeyond1 @hizqueen4life @highqueenjudeduarte @m-like-magic1-blog @dorkzrul @whataboutmyfries @livelovereading123 @queenofgreenbriar @ireallyshouldsleeprn @lifeminuspickles @df3ndyr @christalpaez @aknymph @iammissstark @disco-tits1 @star-flecked-soul

#tfota #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota fic #jurdan fic #tcp #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #queen of nothing #twk #qon #tqon #holly black #judecardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte x cardan greenbriar

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Not So Golden Opportunity (BAON)

Summary: Usually Stretch likes getting packages in the mail, but there is always room for an exception.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The knock on the front door wasn’t much of a surprise, not when it came at delivery o’clock. Stretch always had packages coming in, everything from equipment for the lab to a new t-shirt that declared he was a ‘Karaoke King’, there was always something for their delivery person to drop off. At any given time, there was enough cardboard stored in their garage waiting to get dropped off at recycle to make one heck of a box fort, and that was on his list to do with the neighborhood kiddos one of these weekends.

So, the knock on the door? Not a surprise. What they were delivering on the other hand—

“uh, wow, thanks, marty,” Stretch said, a little dubiously. Marty let out an agreeable honk and meandered their way back to their little mail truck, leaving Stretch standing there with an enormous armful of flowers from an unknown source. Couldn’t be from Edge. Sure, he’d given flowers a few times, but Edge was more of an in-person sort of guy when it came to presents.

Welp, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there. Time to get his Velma on and look for some clues.

Stretch carried the massive thing inside and plunked it down on the coffee table to give it a closer look. It was actually a very nice floral arrangement, even Stretch could see that and he didn’t know shit about flowers or décor. Tiny sprays of white, bell-like blooms and ferny green things surrounding several huge blooms of golden flowers, the likes of which Stretch hadn’t seen in years, not since they were Underground.

Hm. Golden flowers.

The card had Edge’s name on it, but Stretch didn’t bother sneaking a peek. Mystery solves, there was only one person who would’ve had this delivered to their door and he probably made it with his own fuzzy hands. The real question was why that asshole was having flowers sent to his husband, thank you, and the only way to find out if he needed to start making plans to yank out hunks of fur with his bare hands was to ask, with the minimum of simmering jealousy possible.

“babe?” Stretch called. Edge was in the kitchen, making preparations for their new cupboards to be installed next week. “hey, c’mere a minute!”

He’d expected Edge to be pleased, he did like his flowers, heck, maybe even excited in that adorably subdued way he had, and much as Stretch could have done without any surprise packages from Ass-gore in their house, eh, he’d deal with it if they made Edge happy.

The last thing he anticipated was for Edge to stop cold halfway out the kitchen door, the fleeting expression of disgust crossing his face quickly shifting to blankness. Edge wasn’t exactly the most emotive guy out there, but Stretch was pretty good at reading his facial version of charades and right now there wasn’t so much as a twitch of the eye socket or a curl of his mouth as he said, low, “Please put that in the garage.”

“the garage?” Stretch repeated doubtfully. He looked down at the extravagant display of floral dominance in his hands and wondered if he’d heard that right. “you sure?

“Yes, because someone might notice if you put it right into the trash.” That blankness cracked, a little, enough for Edge to snap out, “Just get it out of the damn house!”

Yeah, okay, got that message loud and clear, especially since Edge was starting to look a little glowy around the hands, like he was considering a little impromptu, and violent, floral rearranging. Stretch grabbed up the offending bouquet before it could end up as target practice and shortcutted out into the garage.

Like the rest of the house, it was neat as a pin, no oil stains on this concrete floor and all the tools neatly put away on the pegboard. In the back corner was the motorcycle, shrouded in drop cloths and waiting for Edge to be able to take it out for a spin again. Didn’t seem like putting the flowers anywhere special was part of today’s theme, so Stretch stuffed the thing into the furthest spot, away from Edge’s car so he wouldn’t have to see it when he came out on his way to work tomorrow.

Job successfully achieved, Stretch dusted off his hands and teleported back inside. Edge was already gone from the living room, no surprise there, but he hadn’t gone back to the kitchen. A quick, not-at-all-frantic search found him sitting out on the front porch and that wasn’t really a surprise, either. But the cigarette in his hand? Now that blew past surprise all the way into flabbergasted shock. Far as Stretch knew, Edge hadn’t bummed a smoke in months, his general attitude towards smoking was distaste with extreme prejudice. It took a helluva lot for him to give into the urge for a quick fix to a nicotine craving. Whatever his issues were with the flowers, whether it was the gift or the person who sent them, they were bad.

“babe?” Stretch asked, cautiously, still hovering half in the house. As worried as he was, he wouldn’t push, ready to leave if Edge wanted to be alone.

Edge only shifted the cigarette to his other hand and patted the concrete next to him in silent invitation. A little relieved, Stretch came out and sat down. He dug his own cigarette out of the crumpled pack and the two of them sat hip to hip, quietly smoking. Overhead, the sky was endless sea of deep blue broken only by the occasional streak of a puffy cloud. A nice day, too nice for the unspoken questions hanging heavily in the air, but Stretch didn’t ask them. Edge would talk when he was ready and if he never was, welp, that was fine, too. Edge wasn’t the only one who could be supportive, Stretch was more than willing to take his turn under the weight.

It wasn’t until Edge tamped out his cigarette in the ashtray Stretch kept out on the porch that he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Edge said finally. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“i think i’ll live, babe,” Stretch replied, dryly, “the wounds were superficial.” He gave Edge a gentle nudge in the side with his elbow. “you okay?”

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t pushing, thanks. Besides, it was a stupid question, because the answer was obviously going to be a ‘yes, fine’ and that’d be it.

Except that he didn’t get the obvious answer he expected.

“Not right now,” Edge said. His sockets were half-closed and instead of their yard, he seemed to be looking miles away. “I will be.” They sat in silence for a while longer, Stretch watching people walking by, waving as required and leaving Edge to his thoughts. He was lighting a second cigarette when Edge finally spoke again, softly. “Golden flowers.” The faint hitch in his voice could’ve meant nothing, if the person he was sitting with didn’t know him so well. “I haven’t seen real golden flowers in years.”

Stretch considered that. “i’m taking it they weren’t sorely missed.”

“Hm?” Crimson eye lights briefly flicked his way. “No, not at all. I hate the blasted things.”

Stretch only took a long drag and exhaled slowly, blowing a smoke ring up into that blue, blue sky. He didn’t ask or urge him to talk, simply being there if he chose to. And Edge did, slowly, as if choosing every word with care. “The only place in Underfell where golden flowers grew was the king’s chamber in New Home. My memories of that place are…not pleasant.”

Not pleasant. Yeah, like lava is a wee bit warmish or the Titanic sprung a little leak. Indisputable truths: water is wet, the sky is blue, grass is green, and any meeting with the king of all Monsters in Underfell was not pleasant.

The explanation made perfect sense, really; if Stretch’d had a minute to actually think about it instead of dividing his attention between ditching the flowers and then finding his wayward husband, he probably would have figured it out on his own. Perfect sense, yep, and that was why Stretch was torn between temptations. First, to grab Edge and hold him close, to keep him there in his arms and do whatever it took to chase away any of the mental ghosts that were creeping in, to be the protector for one damn time. And then there was the equal temptation to take that little flower arrangement on back to the source and see if he could find any handy place to stick it, because right now, he was ready to cram it so far up someone’s fuzzy buns that they’d need their dentist to help get it loose.

But Edge wouldn’t appreciate either of those options. All Stretch could do here was sit here, be here, and hope it was enough.

Stretch was so lost in his thoughts that he startled at the touch of a gloved hand as it settled gently over his bare one, sharp fingertips blunted by fabric lightly stroking his own. “He didn’t know, love. He mentioned to me in passing that he’d started working on floral arrangements again for the summer and that he’d be sending them out to Embassy employees, and I completely forgot.”

Trust Edge to know exactly what direction his thoughts were headed, right off the grid and into a little righteous revenge. Didn’t help that the things Stretch wanted to say to that excuse weren’t exactly helpful. Things like, Asgore should have been able to guess, homey reminders were only good for people who actually liked their past home, and maybe a reminder to pay some fucking attention to anything besides his own personal popularity contest was in order. Or how about suggestion for a visit to emphasis the whole ‘we don’t send my husband any gifts without pre-approval, asshole’.

None of those options were actually useful and either might actually get him banned from the Embassy this time, so Stretch kept ‘em to himself and only said, “i know.”

Then he let out a squawk as that gentle touch on his hand turned into a firm grip around his wrist and he was abruptly yanked over into Edge’s lap. He barely managed to put out his cigarette before it landed anywhere unpleasant. It took a little creative, and occasionally blatant, wriggling to get situated but in the end, he was settled across Edge’s femurs and snuggled in. His own hands were perfectly G-rated, Edge’s only slightly less so but it wasn’t like anyone on the street could see the hand he’d slipped under Stretch’s sweatshirt and settled over his sternum, right where his soul would manifest if he summoned it. Neither of them did, not yet, not out here in front of the broad daylight and the neighbors. The barest suggestion was enough for right now.

“I’m all right,” Edge murmured, and the warmth of his breath against the curve of his jaw was a tempting distraction. But Stretch wasn’t gonna forget to hand over a carefully selected piece of his mind to Asgore the next time he saw him.

Next time fuzzy ass wanted to send a present, he could stick with a gift card.

-finis

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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justfangirlthingies · 3 years

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Rewrite The Stars (Draco Malfoy)

Another songfic! This one's based on "Rewrite The Stars" by Zac Efron and Zendaya. You'll definitely know this song if you've seen the greatest showman

Word count: 1804 words

Warnings: angst, I used the word 'hell' once does that count as swearing?, I think that's it? please lmk if I missed something

The reader is a muggle in this

There's a lot of soft Draco

Grey eyes observed as you skillfully balanced your shopping bags, focus set on cramming around for your keys. "AHA! Got you now!" you exclaimed as your fingertips made contact with the cool metal and the sound of keys rattling filled the air. As soon as you had fished them out of your bag you took notice of the feeling that someone was watching you. Your gaze left your hands in order to look for the source of the unnerving feeling that had come over you. (E/c) eyes widened when they landed on the pale boy. "(Y/n)." He paused for a second so he could approach you. The eye contact he held was intimidating "We need to talk." At this you just gave a short nod and walked past him to unlock your door, the blonde following close behind you.

"You know I want you" he said.

Your eyes went wide after hearing his statement "Draco-" "No. I'm not done, just hear me out please?" the desperation in his eyes was something you were not used to, so you folded your arms, a sigh escaping your lips as you spoke "go on then."

You already had an idea where this was going and when he proceeded to speak, your theory was confirmed. "It's not a secret I try to hide. I know you want me" Draco felt some form of relief, like a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders with every word that left his mouth as he finally came clean to the muggle girl.

They had had similar conversations before, but there had always been doubts holding the pair back from actually confessing their feelings. "So don't keep saying our hands are tied." you stop him right then and there as you claim "it's not in the cards and fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me. There's no chance for us Draco...we're far too different from one another"

The blonde inspected you as he considered stopping the conversation, but he couldn't. Not now. Not now when he had finally found the courage to pour out his heart's desires to you. The longings he had been putting aside in fear you'd leave if you knew. It was ridiculous really. How he had no problems to tell you about his magical heritage or his family quarrels. Hell, he even told you about the task he'd have to accomplish soon, even though that one did take a bit of persuasion from your side. Revealing his feelings for you however, seemed nearly impossible. No, he couldn't stop now. He had to continue.

So the boy went on with his attempts of persuasion, all the while breaking your heart because in your opinion those attempts were, quite frankly, fruitless, seeing as how the two of you would have zero chances out there in the open. "But you're here in my heart. So who can stop me if I decide that you're my destiny?" You wanted to interrupt him, yet he just carried on with his little speech.

Little did you know, what he was about to ask you next would have tears pooling in your eyes. "What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine" Draco took a step towards you and uncrossed your arms. Your glassy (e/c) eyes meet his silver stare as he relentlessly kept spilling his heart's content out for you. "Nothing could keep us apart" Slender fingers caressed from your shoulders along your arms until he reached your hands, intertwining them. You could feel the cool metal of his rings make contact with your skin as he held your hands in a gentle grasp all the while maintaining eye contact. "(Y/n) you'd be the one I was meant to find. It's up to you, and it's up to me. No one can say what we get to be" As your ears picked up and registered what he meant, your lip started quivering, the tears that had been pricking your eyes finally fell, though you still tried to hold them back. Nevertheless, the blonde's eyes were still filled with determination "So why don't we rewrite the stars? Maybe the world could be ours tonight" The last word came out as a whisper.

Then there was silence. He had given you time to think about all the things that he had laid before you in the previous minutes. Oh how you would've loved to just agree and jump into his arms. But one of you had to be realistic. The perfect future you had envisioned with the pale boy was simply a fantasy. Nothing more and nothing less. It was entirely impossible, you couldn't be with him no matter what your heart told you.

"You think it's easy. You think I don't want to run to you" It was finally your turn to respond and even though it would hurt you both, you'd have to break his heart and yours would also shatter in the process. "But there are mountains and there are doors that we can't walk through" You couldn't give in the way you wanted to. Not with what he told you about his family, you already knew his parents wouldn't accept you if you weren't what wizards and witches call a 'pureblood'. So, even if you had possessed magic, you'd be what they call a 'muggleborn'. Nothing close to a pureblood.

"I know you're wondering why, but after all you told me you could be disowned for simply interacting with me" your voice cracked and you pulled your hands from his. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't give in. "Because we're able to be just you and me within these walls, but when we go outside you're going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all" Finally, you allowed your tears to flow freely "No one can rewrite the stars. How can you say you'll be mine? When you know it's just an empty promise. I'm just some muggle and you're a well-known wizard. Please Draco can't you see? It's never going to work out. You'll find someone better someday" You pleaded. "Everything keeps us apart. And I'm not the one you were meant to find. It's not up to you. It's not up to me" But was it really not up to the two of you? A question on the tip of your tongue was igniting hope. "Draco tell me, when everyone tells us what we can be, how can we rewrite the stars?" The young Malfoy's eyes lit up when you asked him. Had his words finally gotten through to you? A noise left your throat, quiet, desperate and fragile. Had you intended for him to hear it? He didn't know. But hear he did. He heard the whimpers and whispers emitting from you as well as the sentence they formed "Say that the world can be ours. Tonight"

It was then and there that you gave in and just crashed right into his chest. Tears staining his dress shirt as he held you steadily, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "All I want is to fly with you" you murmured against his chest, voice muffled by the fabric of his clothes. A chuckle resonated in Draco's chest as he tilted your chin upwards with his finger, so you were looking straight at him. His thumb wiping the leftover tears as a small smile made its way to his face. He leaned in closer to your face to the point where his lips were ghosting just above yours "All I want is to fall with you. So just give me all of you" He breathed against the soft skin of your lips, hovering there for a moment before you closed the gap completely. Your lips fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. Both of you pouring everything you felt into the kiss. Your hands soon found their place in his soft platinum hair and from one moment to another he had you pressed up against a wall, how or when that happened you didn't really know, nor did you care for it much. After pulling apart you bit your lower lip while observing him. His breaths had gotten more rapid, blonde-white hair disheveled, a pair of swollen lips parted slightly, cheeks tinted in a rosy tone and dilated pupils in pools of silver admired you.

A sad expression decorated your features when your concerns came back to you. Of course he noticed your expression, a worried and irritated one overcoming his own features in the blink of an eye. "What is it love?" he questioned, an eyebrow arched in confusion. Your eyes met once more when you informed him of your fears "It feels impossible" you whispered. A soft grin tucked at the corners of your lover's lips after his hearing picked up on your words, one hand came up to cup your cheek and caress it with his thumb, while the other brushed a strand of your (h/c) hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear "it's not impossible" Foreheads now pressed together with your arms looped around the back of his neck, you closed your eyes and exhaled "Is it impossible? Say that it's possible" "It's very possible darling" he murmured, displaying a smirk before connecting your lips again.

How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine?

Pure bliss is what you felt when you were with him. Nothing can keep us apart

The two of you together. Reunited. 'Cause you are the one I was meant to find

After all, this was your life. It's up to you and it's up to me

It was your decision to make, not one for society. No one can say what we get to be

And why don't we rewrite the stars?

Draco Malfoy and (Y/n) (L/n), an invincible combination. Changing the world to be ours

▪︎

The next morning you awoke in your bed, a strong arm which was draped loosely over your waist, held you within close proximity to his chest. His scent and the warmth against your back invaded all your senses. Slowly and carefully, you turned in his arms and admired his peacefully sleeping form. One of your hands lightly caressed his cheek as a small, bright smile made its way to your face. You know I want you It's not a secret I try to hide

And for a few moments you really thought it was possible. You had inched closer to his sleeping figure, threading your fingers through his tossed, platinum hair, before you pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

"But I can't have you. We're bound to break and my hands are tied"

Taglist: @ateez-star

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

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Letters From War (Ron Speirs x reader)

Here is Part 3 of my Eye Candy series! Yes, Eye Candy was supposed to be a one-shot but I’m having too much fun with their dynamics.

And because sometimes you just need some soft!Speirs in your life.

Warnings: Speirs being a secret softy and some jealousy, a couple swear words

Words: 3500

Eye Candy series masterlist

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m and @softspeirs (because I mentioned this earlier to you)

Sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains, casting the hotel room in a soft glow. A subtle ticking of the clock was the loudest sound in the room. Laying there in the silky sheets felt divine. No one was screaming orders outside of the barracks as they ran their platoon. One of my fellow nurses was not shuffling around inside trying to be quiet but failing as they slammed their stuff on a cot or on the hard floor. No, it was blissfully quiet. Something I had not realized how much I missed until I started my training at Camp Toccoa and was constantly surrounded by others.

I rolled over onto my side, eyes bleary from having just woken up. Peeking at the clock on the far wall, I could see the little hand pointing at the eleven. Not what I was hoping to see. My weekend pass meant I did not have to be back to base until this evening but if I did not get up now, I might go AWOL just to lounge around in these sheets with the sunlight warming me.

I groaned quietly as I sat up, the soft sheets sliding down my naked body. There was a freeing feeling with sleeping naked. Not that I did it often. Or ever. But the few times I had...I could see the appeal of it being a regular occurrence. Especially with these sheets. Were they made from cherub’s wings? Nothing could be as soft and silky as these sheets. I promised myself after the war, if I made it, I would buy myself a set. Something to look forward to.

As quietly as I could, I slid my legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand up when a deep, gravelly voice stilled my movements.

"Where you think you're goin'?"

I smiled at how perturbed he sounded. Glancing over my shoulder, he still lay on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, face buried in it. It was amazing he did not accidentally suffocate himself. "Ron, it's eleven already."

He grumbled, words muffled by the pillow. "So?"

"We need to get up soon."

"You said that two hours ago when we woke up."

"And yet, we're still in bed."

"Mmm…" He tipped his head to the side so one of his half-lidded eyes could glare at me. "I don't see the problem."

"Well some of us can't be lazy like...Ahhh!!" I squealed when an arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back, moving far too fast for someone who just supposedly woke up. Abruptly, I found myself with my head back on the pillow and a broody Lieutenant hovering over me. His bare chest was only inches above mine; and although I could not see it, I could feel that he had not put his Army issued skivvy back on. Just that realization alone bloomed a warmth in my belly.

"You were saying?" He said with a smug look.

"We need to get up."

"Mmm…" He slowly inched his head down, meeting my eyes until his lips trailed down my neck, leaving butterfly kisses.

Without a conscious thought, I tilted my neck to the side, giving him better access. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, loving being under his touch. A small part of my brain berated me for not getting up while I still could. There were things I had planned on doing with my day. But an open mouth kiss on my collarbone caused a moan to fall from my lips and all thoughts of escaping his hold to fly away.

"You were saying?" He repeated.

Through the slowly growing, lust-fuel haze in my mind, I tried to remember why it was so important to leave the bed. "Was I?"

He chuckled, the feeling of it reverberating in my chest. With a quick peck to my lips, he laid his head on my chest, half his body weight on me and an arm wrapped around my waist possessively. I started carding my fingers through his hair, humming softly as we lay there together. The sheets were rumpled around his waist, the only thing keeping me warm was his body. A peacefulness descended. Something very rare in preparation for war. It only encouraged neither one of us to leave the bed, else that peace vanish and reality sink back in. We laid there silently for some time, the only sounds being our breathing and the ticking of the clock.

My thoughts swirled in my mind about the coming weeks. So many unknowns lay before us, like a minefield that we had to walk through. We just had to keep moving forward.

"We leave on the train tomorrow." I stated, staring up at the ceiling. My fingers continued carding through his hair. I would never tell a soul but I knew the feeling immediately relaxed him. Whenever I started doing it, he would practically go limp on me and lay there like a cat sunbathing.

"Mmm."

"Do you know where we are going?"

"Yes."

I swatted him lightly on the shoulder. Of course, he knew. He had the uncanny ability to always be where information was being shared, even if it was not directly relevant to him. It would not surprise me if he snuck into the intelligence officers' offices at night and peeked through their papers. Though I would never tell him that. Plausible deniability is a glorious thing.

When he refused to answer, I swatted him again. Immediately, he growled and nipped at the valley between my breasts, making me squeak. Before I could incite or escape his further wrath, he settled himself back on top of me. When I made no further move, he roughly grabbed my hand and placed it back on the top of his head. I smirked up at the ceiling, and followed his silent order. Perhaps in a past life he had been a cat. It would explain some of the moodiness.

"Tell me." My fingers slipped through his hair, occasionally scraping his scalp, making him hum. "Please."

"I overheard Nixon talking to Sink." He tilted his head to look at me, those dark, piercing eyes meeting mine. "New York."

I connected the dots in my head. "Europe?"

He made no reply as he continued to stare at me, rubbing his thumb along my ribs.

"Can I write to you?"

I felt him stiffen slightly. We had never defined what was between us. Obviously there was attraction and passion, the bruises on my hips and the half-moon indents on his back attested to that. Yet there was also a peaceful companionship I think neither of us expected. He would listen to me ramble about things we learned in class and different techniques to use in the field or the silly things my friends and I had done. On the rare occasion he would vent about one of his men and their stupidity. But I knew he was trying not to make attachments. There was a solid steel wall around his heart he had raised as soon as he stepped foot in Camp Toccoa. He knew his superiors would die. His men would die. He could possibly die. It would be easier to not know their hopes and dreams, their stories and fears. There was one thing we both knew but never acknowledged.

Somehow, I was the exception to his rule.

As we laid there, I tried not to let his silence bother me. I knew it was a long shot to even ask him. I would not be entirely surprised if he said no. We were not even sure that our paths would cross again. I was to be stationed as a nurse for the paratroopers but it had not been finalized for which battalion.

Finally he spoke, looking just over my head the whole time he had been thinking. "Let me think about it."

"Um, ok… well if I meet some other fella who sweeps me off my feet and writes…"

He leaned up and kissed me soundly, interrupting my potential future plan.

"You can't just kiss me to keep me from talking. That's rude." I huffed when he finally allowed me to breathe again.

"No." He stated flatly.

"No? You don't want me writing to someone else, no? I've already had a few soldiers ask if they could write to me."

"No."

"Ron, that's not how this works. If you don't want me writing to you, that tells me you're done with me. I don't do one-night stands."

He quirked an eyebrow, stupid smirk on those kissable lips.

I blushed, swatting him again. "You know what I mean." This was not our first rendezvous together where we snuck away from others while on a weekend pass.

He sighed, dropping his head back on my chest. "And if something happens to me."

"Then I'll mourn but I'll keep doing my job. Who knows? I might even miss you."

He chuckled then lay quietly. I thought he had fallen asleep until he spoke up, so softly I almost did not catch it. "No one was supposed to miss me."

"Mmm," I hummed, tracing the muscles on his back with my finger. In a spur of the moment decision, I decided to be honest, my whisper hanging in the air above us. "Too late...I don't think I can help it now."

We lay there contently for a time, just basking in our own thoughts, the warmth of the morning sun and each other's body.

"Ron, we really need to get up…. stop ignoring me."

He grumbled then suddenly rolled fully on top of me, pressing open-mouth kisses on my neck and chest. "One more."

"How do you have the energy for one more? Christ! Is it possible to die from so many orgasms?"

He froze, slowly his eyes met mine. I knew that look.

"No...no, Ron, NO! That wasn't a challenge...please, oh, shit!"

As I tried to wiggle away from him, he pinned my hips down with his arm and with that dark, seductive look which sent my heart racing, he lowered his face to where I could feel myself throbbing for him.

Needless to say, we did not leave that bed until the afternoon.

*****

The train car rattled along the track, the forests and open fields of the East Coast passed by in a blur. Honestly, at this point I had no idea what state we were even in. Somewhere on our way to New York. Then troopship. Then England.

Soon war.

It was a weird feeling. We had been training and preparing for it. Gathering all the knowledge we could and practicing saving lives until our backs cramped from being bent over pretend bodies and our fingers almost bled from the constant chafing of bandages, syringes and textbooks against them. Yet now on the cusp of war, I felt wholly unprepared.

Pushing the thought away, I rubbed my tired eyes. I picked up my pencil, continuing to try and write a letter to my folks back home before one of the girls found me. I had been sitting in a train car with Lucy, Mary and Rebecca. After a while of listening to them gossip and talk amongst themselves and with the other nurses nearby, I decided to step away. I claimed I needed the quiet to write my letter. Truthfully, I just needed some quiet. I loved those ladies but Christ could they be LOUD.

Staring at the paper in my lap, words seemed to fail. How do I tell my family about everything I was preparing for? All my fears? All my hopes? All my worries? Do I lie and pretend everything is alright?

"Keep it simple." I muttered. With a sharp inhale, my pencil met the paper.

Dear Dad and Mom,

I hope everyone is doing well. I miss everyone. Sometimes I find myself thinking about home and wonder how soon it'll be till I see it. And you guys, of course.

My friends are doing well. Mary has been showing off a picture of her newest nephew to all the nurses. I don’t know how I would have survived all this training without them. They help keep my spirits up during this time. And do not worry, dad, no one has proposed yet. Well, this week at least. There will be no ring on my finger until the war is over.

Just last week we were learning about different types--

"This spot taken?" A rough, rasping voice asked, disturbing my concentration.

I looked up to see a paratrooper standing at the end of my bench seat. I was surprised but wondered if maybe he just needed a space away from his buddies. Most of the other benches and seats were filled up with paratroopers in this train car, a good amount of them sleeping, writing their own letters or gambling. The few voices eased into the background as I sat there, making me momentarily forget I was not actually alone.

"No, it's open." I slid further down, closer to the window. Across from me was a different paratrooper I thought I recognized from Fox Company. He had been in a deep sleep even before I sat across from him, if the small puddle of drool and soft snores said anything.

"Thank you, ma'am. It's damn near impossible to find a quiet spot on this train." He dropped down onto the bench, removing his garrison cap.

I hummed, returning my eyes to the letter. Maybe I should not mention the proposals, even if they were all in jest. Though thinking about them brought up images of a pair of intense, dark eyes and strong hands that had come to know my body almost as well as I did. A blush warmed my cheeks at the thought.

It had been several weeks since we first began seeing each other. In public, we continued in our separate roles. Ron was not one for public affection, even if he always glared a hole in the head of any man he caught talking with me. I had heard through the rumor mill that word spread- I was Speirs' girl, even if no one ever saw us interact in that way. If Speirs purposefully started the rumor or my friends did after seeing the hickeys he left on my neck the first time... either way, the flirting and catcalls involving me dropped to a minimum.

In private, when we could sneak away or secretly meet up...he had no problem showering physical affection on me until I was seeing stars and melted into a puddle in his arms.

I wondered where he was on the train. Before I got on, I caught a glimpse of him directing some of his men on the platform. There were so many unknowns for us. My own feelings for him had grown like weeds since he kissed me. Part of me knew it was trouble. We were heading into war where nothing was certain. Yet the other part of me craved him. He was like no man I had ever known before. With one glimpse of him, my heart practically beat out of my chest. In his arms was quickly becoming my favorite place to be. I loved how there was never a need to fill the silence while with him.

Was this love?

I shot that thought down before it could plant anywhere. Last time I talked to Ron, he never confirmed if I could even write to him. I knew being with me was not easy for him. Although he never explicitly said it, I wondered if he thought he was going to die during the war.

That rasping voice interrupted me once again. "I'm John Billings, Private first class, Baker Company."

"Nurse Y/L/N." I nodded, glancing at him. Short, cropped blond hair, vibrant blue eyes, dimple on one cheek and broad shoulders. If he was inclined, he looked like he could bench-press me. He was attractive...but I was not interested.

"Ah, come on, you not gonna tell me your first name?"

I shrugged, still keeping my gaze on my letter, hoping he would take the hint.

Apparently not.

"Any guesses on where we're heading? One of my buddies thinks Africa. I think we're headed to Italy or something like that. Either way, Nazis are gonna regret starting this thing when we come in and fucking finish it." He laughed. When I did not respond, he slid a little closer, legs spread wide like he owned the bench seat. "Where you from? You sound kinda like my ma."

"I don't think that's your business."

"Hey, doll, no reason to get upset. I'm just making small talk."

"Well, I'm trying to write a letter."

"Alright, I get it. I'll leave ya alone." He laid his arms on the back of the bench, on either side of him, staring towards the front of the train car. His hand lay right behind my shoulders, almost touching them.

I rolled my eyes.

Several more minutes went by and finally I finished my letter. Well, at least I could not think of anything else to write home about. I folded it up, stashing it and my pencil back into my satchel to mail once we reached New York. My last letter written in America. That thought scared me more than I cared to admit.

"Letter to a sweetheart?"

"No," I replied. "Letter home."

He nodded. "I need to do that myself or my ma will find me no matter where we are and spank me with her wooden spoon."

I could not help the giggle that bubble up at the image evoked. "That sounds like my grandmother. I swear even the devil is terrified of her."

He laughed loudly, throwing his head back, eyes crinkling.

We both stilled when our sleeping companion shifted in his seat, running a hand over his face. Just as soon as he began moving, he stopped once again, snores filling the air.

I looked back out the window, watching the countryside pass. How soon would it be before I saw America again after I left? Would I ever? How much longer could this war drag on for? How different would I be when I returned home? Would my family even recognize me?

"So, you gonna tell me your name yet, beautiful?" My other companion teased, sliding slightly closer.

Before I could open my mouth, a deep, husky voice spoke, sending shivers down my spine. "That's Nurse to you, Private."

I looked over to see Ron standing in the walkway, arms crossed. His signature glare aimed at the paratrooper next to me. Death in his eyes.

My companion froze under the intense look, like prey just waiting for the predator's jaws to rip them apart. "Yes...ah, yes, sir."

"I suggest you find yourself another seat."

The Private scrambled out of his seat without a backward glance at me, mumbling something at Ron before briskly walking away and finding a seat further up the train car.

"Awww…. I think you scared him away."

Ron stared at me for a moment before glancing around and settling into the seat just vacated. "Why aren't you with the other nurses?"

"Just needed some quiet for a minute so I could write a letter home."

He raised an eyebrow. That man could carry entire conversations with just his facial expressions.

"The Private came after I was already sitting." I explained, knowing that was what he wanted to know.

He seemed to think it over before taking my hand in his. Something he had never done in public before. A small smirk teased his lips as he entwined our fingers. "Did you write home about me?"

"No. Should I have?"

He sat there quietly, rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand.

"I thought about it." I admitted, looking at our hands. Though I could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on my face, I did not meet it. "But… I did not want… they would think then…"

"I want you to write me."

My head shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. "Really? Are you sure?"

He mock-glared at me.

"Will you write me back?"

To my endless surprise, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, leaving me speechless. "I'll think about it." He winked before getting up and smoothing back out his impeccable Class A uniform. "I'll find you when we arrive."

"Ok." I answered meekly, my brain trying to understand what just happened.

With one more longing look, he nodded and started back down the train car, disappearing just as quickly as he appeared.

He wanted me to write him...and he would write back!

And he kissed me.

In public!

To anyone else it may seem insignificant but for me...this was monumental. He was claiming me as his girl. Not just rumors anymore. It was ridiculous how my heart swelled at the thought.

A softly spoken "damn" made my head whip round to see the Private who had been sleeping now staring at me with eyes as big as saucers and mouth hanging open slightly.

"Damn." I echoed back, touching my lips, still in shock.

I was such a goner for him. Though, I could not find it anywhere in myself to be upset about that.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #fluff #soft!speirs

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daebakinc · 3 years

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A Snagged Thread (preview)

Pairing: Jihoon x Female Reader, ft. Seventeen and other currently undecided idols Genre: Angst, Romance Summary: You loved Jihoon, your boyfriend of three years, more than anything. But after one too many times of being forgotten, you can’t bear it. You completely disappear from his life, planning on keeping it that way forever. But when a favor for a friend forces you and Jihoon to cross paths, will you give your hearts a second chance or guard it fiercely to stop it from breaking again?

Could a night be more perfect?

A breeze warm with the promise of summer drifts through the cracked windows. It's gentle enough to kiss your face and barely push at the candle on the table's flame. The restaurant lights are dim and soft, perfect for romantic whispers and smiles glowing with infatuation. An acoustic guitar floats from carefully hidden speakers.

From listening to Jihoon's own playing, you can tell the guitarist is talented. The music speaks rather then being simply played. The melody is deceptively simple, enticing the listener to try to remember if they heard it before. It teases the ears, smoothly dancing from light flirtation to enticing seduction and back again.

Jihoon would fall under its spell for sure. His fingers would be tapping against your hand as it tried to follow the notes. As always, his mind would be squirreling away snippets and strands of inspiration to try to revive and rework in his own way later.

If he was here that is.

Instead, the chair opposite you is only occupied by a phantom. A phantom made of shards of broken promises and ugly insecurities made all the more clear by the shrinking candle reflected in the window.

“Miss.”

You glance away from the window at the waitress’ gentle voice, then away from her face. Instead, you focus on the neat bow-tie at her throat. It's too late though. The pity in her eyes was clear and stings more than you thought it would. You expected it, having seen it many times before in other faces in the same familiar situation. It never gets more bearable.

“I’m very sorry, miss, but we have a number of people waiting. If you’re not going to order, I’m going to have to ask that you give your table up.”

“Can I have another ten minutes?” You give her a smile, but you can feel how weak it is. “Please.”

“I'm really sorry, but my manager said-”

“It's okay. I understand,” you blurt out.

You get up, but do it too quickly. Your chair violently falls back, loudly smacking into the one behind you. Blessedly, it's empty. Turning to correct it, your ankle twists in its ridiculous heel, throwing you forward as well. If it weren't for the waitress catching your arm, you would have planted face-first into the hardwood.

“Miss! Are you alr-”

“I'm fine, thank you.” You take your arm back as your ears and cheeks burn. Opening your purse, you pull some bills from your wallet and press them into the waitress' hand. “I'm so sorry for wasting your time.”

Her eyes widen at the amount. She tries to give it back, protesting, “Miss, I can't -”

“Yes, you can. Someone should have a good evening.”

You all but run away, thankfully managing to avoid bumping into anyone. The shock of the cool air when you step through the door sends goosebumps up your arms and legs. A wind forces your arms to fold over your chest as insult to injury. Still, it's better to focus on that instead of the slow crumbling of your heart.

The subway to take you home is just a block away. But your feet hurt and you're tired and you just want to burrow under your blankets with the lights off. If you never re-emerge, it is what it is.

A taxi pulls up in front of the restaurant. A man dressed in a smart suit exits first, immediately turning to offer his hand to his female companion. They positively glow with the happiness of infatuation. Matching smiles. Gentle, intertwined fingers. Stars captured in their eyes.

It turns your stomach.

You had that. You know you did when you and Jihoon started dating a few years ago. One look in his eyes would steal your breath and stop your heart. You know it was the same for him. You'd seen it, felt it, breathed it. Maybe not as much recently, given how infrequently you met and how often that was spent napping together, but definitely in the beginning...

Fuck it, you think to yourself as you feel the disappointment, frustration and sheer pain building in your chest. If you're going to lose it, you'd rather do it in the privacy of a taxi than surrounded by strangers on the subway.

“Wait!” You raise your hand and rush to grab the taxi door, opening and sliding in.

After giving the driver your address, you lean your head back against the headrest. You close your tired eyes and sigh. You can do this. It's not that far. You're a big girl. You can keep it together that long.

Rubbing your eyes, you try repeating an affirmation.

“I am a strong woman. I am a strong woman,” you tell yourself. “I am a strong, beautiful, independent woman. I- I am-... I am a strong-”

The words get stuck in your throat, like they know their own futility. Before you completely lose it, you clamp your lips shut and press your tongue into the roof of your mouth. Praying you can just get home.

The taxi stops at your apartment building just in time. You place a too-large bill in the driver's hand, shouting back to keep the change as you scramble out the door.

You drop your card the first time when you try to swipe into your building. At this hour, the entry is abandoned, as are the stairs that you run up. Your breath is labored by the time you reach your door, your heart thudding even faster. It takes three tries to fit the key into the lock. When the door finally closes behind you, you immediately collapse against it.

“One more chance, Jihoon,” you murmur, sliding down to sit on the floor. “Please, don't mess it up. Please...”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as you take your phone from your purse. Its screen is dark. Just like it has been most of the evening. It lights up, painfully bright in the dark of your apartment. Hoping you accidentally turned the notifications' sound off, you unlock the phone to look at your messages.

Hi, love. I'm here.

You didn't forget, did you?

I'm going to head in so we don't lose the reservation. See you inside.

Are you on your way?

Jihoon, where are you?

All your texts.

Not a single answer. Not even a single 'read' next to them.

The iron claws squeezing your heart clamp down harder. Is this what a heart attack feels like?

This isn't the first time Jihoon was a no-show for a date. He always had an excuse. A filming ran late. He lost track of time in the studio. The group needed to do an extra practice.

Every time, Jihoon held your hands, his apology as much in his eyes as his words. Every time, you smiled and forgave him.

He'd promised this time. He'd promised he wouldn't forget. He'd promised he'd be there. You'd believed him, even making a dress especially for the occasion.

But he failed you again. Ignored you again. Forgot you, again.

You feel the urge to throw your phone and scream, but it's gone in an instant. It's too much effort. A heavy, ugly hollowness fills the void left by the brief flash of anger. Instead, you let your phone slip between your fingers onto the floor. Just like your body wants to.

Your vision blurs as words utterly fail in the face of choked down sobs now erupting. The taste of salty tears run down your cheeks to catch on your lips. Your chest palpitates with your hiccupping breaths. It's like the shreds of your heart are attempting escape by battering their way through. Burying your head in your arms, you have no choice but to drown in the tidal wave of hurt slamming into you over and over again.

You are tired. So tired of the disappointment and the insecurities Jihoon's repeated absences seem to affirm. You are tired of feeling like you, your relationship, mean nothing to him. That you are all the things your worst fears hissed in your mind for years. The demons you've fought and once had Jihoon fighting alongside you.

That you are forgettable.

Unworthy.

Unlovable.

As you lie on the floor shaking, aching, and alone, you can't help thinking one thing.

Enough.

Jihoon sits in front of his computer in the studio. His fingers lightly tap against the mouse, where they've been glued for hours. There's something missing from the melody. He just hasn't figured it out yet. He hits play, settling into his chair, hunting intently for that piece to make it perfect.

Just as he feels it inching closer, someone knocks on the door.

“What?” he snaps, whipping his chair around.

Jeonghan pops his head in, completely unfazed by his groupmate's biting tone. “Jihoon, you're still here?”

“Yeah.” He spins his chair back around. “I need to finish this song. It's driving me crazy.”

“Is it the one you've been working on since last month?”

Jihoon hums in agreement.

“Have you asked Bumzu for help yet? Maybe you're too stuck in your own head.”

“Not yet... but getting a second opinion isn't a bad idea. Would you mind listening?”

“Sure.” Jeonghan comes in, grabbing the extra chair and wheeling it beside Jihoon. “Oh, by the way, you never told us how your anniversary date went. Did Y/N like the restaurant?”

Jihoon freezes, his hand hovering over the mouse. He had to have misheard. “Our what?”

His groupmate stares at him. Speaking slowly, Jeonghan says, “You and your girlfriend's third anniversary. Like four weeks ago. You’d only been arranging just the right restaurant for it for months....”

“Fuck,” Jihoon groans, slouching back into his chair with his face in his hands. His heart sickeningly drops in his chest.

“Jihoon, please don't tell me you forgot.”

His mind races through the days that feel like a blur. How did he not remember? How? “I think I screwed up.”

“Missing an anniversary? Yeah, I think you did.” Jeonghan gets up, patting his shoulder. “I'm going to leave. I think you have more important things than a song.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Jihoon scrubs his face with his hands before pulling his phone out of his pocket. He frowns at it. He can't even remember the last time you two talked, he's been so busy. Why didn't you call him, text him? If not the day of your anniversary, why not after?

He checks his call log. Two missed calls from you from a week or two ago. He'd meant to call you back on those, but never did. Stupid.

Then, he checks your chat. That's when he sees the number of notifications. “What the hell...”

Jihoon curses again as he remembers that one night. He doesn't even remember when it was. All he recalls is getting annoyed at the back to back beeps alerting him to messages when he was neck-deep in composing a song. Assuming it was the other members sending memes in the group chat, he'd silenced the notifications and tossed the phone back. He must have never gone back to check if they were on again.

Dammit. You have every right to be pissed at him.

He's more than aware of how much you put up with. From keeping your relationship low-key to constant rescheduling around his schedule. The awkward number of times he's had to apologize for missing a date or falling asleep while you told him about a new design you were trying at work. Yet somehow, you love him enough to always smile, tell him it's alright, and keep on loving him. Sometimes, he can't help but wonder if he's worthy of the love of such a saint.

Switching back to calls, Jihoon presses your speed dial. Unsurprisingly, he gets your voicemail. Sighing, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Hi, it's me...” He clears his throat, embarrassment and guilt robbing him of eloquence. “I'm really, really sorry I missed our date. I just saw that I accidentally turned the notifications off on our chat. I can't believe I did that. I wasn't ignoring you on purpose, I promise. I'm an idiot and I can't blame you for being upset with me. I've just been really busy with work. You know how it is... I'll come by your place later to apologize in person. I promise, I'll make it up to you. I'm sorry... I love you.”

Although Jihoon had every intention of going to your apartment that very night, it's a few days later that he finally makes it there. As he climbs the steps, he can feel his hands shaking. How will you react when he shows up? Sure, he's made mistakes and you've fought before, but never this bad.

Will you be angry? Silent? Sad? God, he hopes you don't cry. He can't stand when you cry because of him. He never knows what to do when he makes you cry.

Whatever you do, Jihoon reminds himself, he'll deal with it. He'll take it. He deserves it after what he did. With that resolve, he tightens his fingers around the bouquet of sunflowers he's carrying. He'll do anything to make it up to you.

Reaching your apartment door, he knocks. When the door mechanisms click, Jihoon straightens his shoulders and fixes on his best apology face on. However, it’s not your face that greets him as the door opens. Only empty space.

“Who’re you?” asks a small, high-pitched voice.

Jihoon looks down over the bouquet into the eyes of an inquisitive child. He glances over at the number beside the door. It’s definitely yours. Is one of your friends with a kid visiting?

“Um, hi. Is –”

An older woman Jihoon doesn't recognize rushes from behind the door to scoop up the child. “Jiah, what did I tell you about opening the door?”

“Don't open the door for strangers,” the child innocently replies.

“Excuse me,” Jihoon says politely, “but is Y/N here?”

The woman shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but there’s no one here by that name.”

It feels like someone poured Arctic water over his head. That's not possible. “What?”

“We just moved in last week. I'm sorry.”

Panicking when the woman starts to close the door, Jihoon catches it with his hand. “Do you know where the woman who lived here before moved?”

“No. I don’t even know her name.”

He lets go as the door closes, his fingers numb. Why would you move? Did you tell him?You must have mentioned your new address in the messages.

He hurriedly opens your chat, reading the messages. His heart drops further and further with each. Then, he gets to the last two, spaced a day apart, and it absolutely stops.

Jihoon, this is our last chance. Please call me back.

I'm sorry. I can't.

The sunflowers fall to the floor, forgotten as Jihoon runs back the way he had come. He reaches the street, out of breath. He can't think, only feel. He feels like he should run, run through the city calling your name until his legs give out.

You wouldn't just leave like this. You wouldn't abandon him. Not like this.

A single coherent thought breaks its way through his panic. Call her. His fumbling fingers hit your number.

“Come on, come on, pick up,” he begs.

Immediately, instead of ringtone, he gets the message, I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please try again.

#seventeen fic #jihoon fic #woozi fic #kpopwritingnet #kwriterskollection #kwritersworldnet #kpop fanfics

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all-of-the-imagines-for-eve · 4 years

Text

For the First Time ~ Embry Call

Request: "Can you do one of Embry and his reader Imprint make love for the first time I really love your stories" from @wolfpackgirlss

A/n: I looooooveeeeeee requests!! So very glad to know yall like my stuff :)

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

Y/n was familiar with fast. Stumbling over yourself as you sped down a hill, or gripping anything you could grab as someone turned a corner too sharply while driving. She was incredibly familiar with quick kisses and giddy giggles and flushed cheeks and tight spaces and getting riled up just to run out of time, or chicken out and not end up going all the way.

She thought that would be how it was when she started dating Embry Call, too. He had the same hyperness as her. The same cheery goofiness. She was a little nervous to learn about the whole imprinting thing. She'd known about Sam and the pack long before him. She was Jared Cameron's cousin. Her parents had died a long time ago, and lived with him and his family. When he'd started acting dodgey, Y/n had pulled all the stops to figure out what was going on. Sam hadn't been too strict on the rules back then so it had been a lot easier. It had been kind of strange for the cute new wolf to give her the news in the most adorably awkward way that he had imprinted on her. But also absolutely thrilling.

Surely the energy from that first kiss would carry to everything else, too?

Despite all of that, things with Embry were moving slow.

Y/n knew how to date, but this seemed like whole new territory. Things with Embry seemed to be significantly more intimate no matter what he was doing. The way he said her name. The way he looked at her when she ranted, or how they worked together when either of them came up with an insanely mischievous plan and the other was completely gung-ho about making it happen. The way he hugged her, or kissed her cheek. All of it was wonderful and soft and warm and made them feel close.

It was overwhelming.

That was had probably kept them from having sex until now. Five months into their relationship and they hadn't even thought about it. Or, if they did, it was fleeting or not the right moment or the other wasn't in the mood, or there wasn't a good place to get down to business. It just seemed like it hadn't really lined up until that night.

But that night... Oh lord.

They were at Embry's, since he had far more family to bug them than he did. His mom was taking a night shift at her job in favor of letting her son have the house to himself to spend some quality time with his girlfriend. Things had been packed recently and they hadn't gotten much alone time.

At first, it was really chill as per usual. They made dinner and nearly got in a food fight before Embry, between his laughter, called a truce in favor of his mom not murdering him when she came home to the mess. They ate and then played a board game and then a card game, just messing around and chit chatting about whatever. Then they cuddled up on the couch as it started to get late, popping in a romance movie just to have something calm that would help them unwind.

Embry was soothingly warm and his hands kept trailing along her arms. Up and down, back and forth, in loopdy loops. Just little random patterns and paths that made no sense but made Y/n feel really nice and relaxed. She leaned back into him, humming in content every now and then.

She hadn't meant to. Her intentions hadn't been the result of her actions. She'd just shifted, looking back at her boyfriend as the cheesy climax of the movie hit and the couple kissed after arguing in the rain because that's really how romance movies be since forever. She giggled, parting her lips to make some joke about how lame they were... only to immediately get lost in Embry's eyes.

The TV reflected off of the brown color and made really cool shapes. Sensing her gaze, he looked down too. "What? Got something on my face?"

"Yeah," Y/n teased lightly, shuffling again so she was straddling him so she could actually reach his face. He was so tall, geez. "Right here-" she began by touching his cheek, then tracing his lips. "And here." Her other hand rose to gently press each thumb to his eyelids after he closed them. "Also, here." He opened his eyes as she moved her hands, her fingers brushing his jaw before wrapping around the back of his neck, her thumbs running along his cheek. "All over."

He had a sort of dreamy smile on his face. "And what exactly do I have all over my face, hm?"

She shrugged. "Makes me wanna look at it all the time though, whatever it is."

Embry laughed before pulling Y/n to him, kissing her. At first it was gentle but then suddenly it wasn't. The kiss was intense and hot and hard and deep and Y/n was running out of breath and her head was spinning but she just couldn't bring herself to pull away. Her hold on his face slipped even further back, her hands moving into his hair and gripping lightly. He gasped against her mouth and they both took the second to try and catch some air for their screaming lungs before diving back in again.

His hands were on her waits, slipping under the bottom of her shirt. His skin was hot on her stomach and back. So were his lips as she kissed him. And his neck as she rested her arms around it. He was always hot and now she felt like she was trapped in a room with no air and she leaned back, trying to get a grip on herself.

It was scary easy to get lost in him. She'd gotten overwhelmed again.

"Sorry," Embry rushed. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Y/n gasped. "You're just..." She looked up at him, finally focused. His lips were a little puffy, his hair a little messy. His pupils were huge and completely focused on her. He was incredibly beautiful and she found herself kissing him again. It was a lot, but it got easier to deal with every time she did it. Every moment was wonderful with him, especially when it came to kissing.

Suddenly something hard poked against her thigh. She snorted, having to break the kiss again as she rose an eyebrow. Embry wouldn't meet her eyes. She but her lip bef-re standing up and turning the TV off. Embry watched her curiously. She stood in fromt of him, holding out her hand. "What?" He asked, unsure of what she wanted.

She sighed, leaning down to this time press her lips to his throat. "Em, I want you."

He was instantly responsive, scooping her up and taking her to his room. She giggled as he lay her down gently then crawled over her, pulling his shirt off as he moved. He was kissing her again, this time his warmth completely covering every inch of her body and overloading her senses. This time she didn't fight it.

His hands pushed her shirt up, exploring her stomach and then slowly higher and higher. Suddenly she gasped, her heart racing. It really was so much, but she was also nervous. This was usually the point that they either had sex or he left. Despite knowing how powerful and never ending Imprinting was, Y/n suddenly found herself terrified that Embry would be gone tomorrow morning. Now that they'd hit this point, it was over.

"What?" Embry cooed soothingly, keeping his hands on her stomach since that had been what seemed to have set her off. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Y/n managed. She squirmed nervously. "We haven't... I mean, you... you're a virgin, aren't you?" Embry nodded without saying a word. It had been embarrassing for him to admit. She rushed to try to explain before he thought she didn't want him because he was a virgin. "I, um, you-" she grunted. "Promise me that you won't go away tomorrow, or that our relationship will turn to sex every time we're alone. I still want movie nights and food fights and wrestling matches you always win and teasing and all the other shit too."

Embry's expression softened. "Sweetheart, of course. You're stuck with me. I loooooooooove youuuuuuu." He dragged out the last two words, tickling Y/n's sides as he nearly sung them. Y/n slapped his hands away and they both giggled. He calmed very quickly though. "I'm serious Y/n. I want everything with you. Fights and kisses and what we were doing earlier and this too. I swear." Y/n grinned before pulling him down. This kiss was just as deep and passionate as the others that had lead here, but much slower and sweeter as well. "We'll take it slow, just like we always do, okay?" Y/n nodded.

First, Embry took Y/n's shirt off. He did it slowly as promised, and asked permission before he went into any new territory. He started a the bottom of her stomach, pushing the shirt out of the way inch by inch as he kissed up and up and up until he was at her neck and the garment was gone. Next were her pants, in the same fashion. He kissed her hip then down her thigh, calf, and then ankle before her pants were gone as well. He took his own pants off more quickly, hovering over her again.

His fingers slipped under her bra strap, moving up and down along the material, the back of his hand skimming across the skin of her shoulder. He then moved to kissing her neck, shoulder, and then the top of her arm as he slipped off each strap. "I'm going to take this iff now okay?" She nodded eagerly. It had been sweet at first but now it was more teasing and Y/n was getting quite antsy.

The bra finally fell. Then finally Y/n's underwear, followed by Embry's.

He tried to keep communication going, but words were soon replaced by breathless moans and gasps. Hands were curling and pushing and pulling and the two teenagers were overcome by pure pleasure. It was just as intimate as everything else they did, but felt far more amazing.

After they both finished, they lay in bed for a while. He played with her hair and she made trails on his chest mirroring the ones he'd made on her arm when they were still in the living room.

"How was it?" He asked softly.

"Really good," she praised, grinning.

He paused and once again, Y/n felt nervousness. And anxiety that demanded her to realize he was trying to find a way to break up with her now that he;d gotten what he'd wanted. "How about we get dressed and then finish that movie? Can't imagine how my mom would react if she found us like this, but let me tell you it will be very bad." Y/n chuckled before agreeing and they both did just that. They were cuddled up on the couch when his mom came back, the credits rolling for a long time as they talked quietly about the best and worst parts of the movie and what they might wanna watch next.

"Hey guy," Mrs. Call greeted. The kids echoed her greeting. "You guys have fun?"

Embry and Y/n met eyes and tried not to laugh. "I think it was a fantastic night overall," Y/n answered. "We should do it more often." the girl reached up and booped Embry's nose. She grinned down at her.

Mrs. Call and Y/n exchanged goodnights before Embry took her home for the night. They held hands as he drove and Y/n felt her anxiety roll of her shoulders as music played on the radio and they took the familiar rode back to her house. He was still in love with her. Still her Embry.

And, most importantly, he was still there to see her and hang out in the morning.

Forever Tag: @bitchyseawitch @alexa-playafricabytoto @chipster-21 @captainxmikaelson @justanotherdaydreamersoul

#embry call #twilight #eclipse #new moon #breaking dawn #twilight imagine #kiowa gordon #embry call imagine #wolf pack #wolf pack imagine #wolf pack x reader #embry call x reader #twilight x reader #kiowa gordon x reader #kiowa gordon imagine

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

Note

Hi. I was wondering if you could maybe do a Diego Hargreeves/Reader one using BH from the 100 Ways to Say I Love You or Kiss #V. I mean if you're not too busy. Sorry, I know you probably have better requests but there's not a lot of Diego ones that are sweet and I feel like you're really good at sweet.

A/N: Alright, you asked for cute, so I tried to keep cute, as fluffy and fun as I could while also applying generous steam. Also, look Letters! Hope you enjoy Word Count: 1769 Rating: M - sexual situations

“Please just come unlock the door for me, I know you have a master key and can,” you begged Al, struggling to balance the boxes and bags in your grasp.

“No. I’m not Hargreeves’ minder and it’s not my job to let his girlfriend in just because she doesn’t rate a key,” the old man snapped.

“I mean, in my defense, you told Diego he wasn’t allowed to make a copy of the key and give it to me.”

“I don’t know you, so I don’t want you having a key to anywhere in my gym! It’s a boiler room not an apartment. Nice, pretty thing like you shouldn’t be bothering with him while he lives there anyway.”

You managed a shrug around your packages. “If you won’t let me in, can I decorate out here?”

“No!”

You rolled your eyes before fixing the gym owner with your best puppy-dog pout. “If you didn’t at least sort of like Diego, you would have kicked him out ages ago. So I know you’ll understand when I say that I really, really want to do something nice for him this year.”

“I’m not helping you with this nonsense.”

As he turned to walk away, you blurted out in desperation, “I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

That seemed to catch his attention and he turned back to you. “Why didn’t you start there, girl?”

Several hours later, you stepped back to admire your handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, the banner over the sink hung just slightly askew for example, but you had to give it to yourself, you had done a pretty good job.

With a slight smirk, you placed the two paper conical hats on the little folding table, the finishing touch, and sat on the bed to wait for your boyfriend to return home.

You were just about dozing off when you heard the doorknob rattle and braced yourself. You were fairly certain that he wouldn’t enter expecting danger, but with his penchant for throwing knives, you could never be too careful.

“Hi hon,” you said, once you were sure you weren’t about to be skewered.

“Y/N,” he started before smirking, “hey.”

“How was your day?” you tried to be as nonchalant as possible, even though if you were standing you would be bouncing on the balls of your feet in excited anticipation.

“You know, same old same old,” he shrugged as he started removing the leather harness he always wore out.

You moved to his side, kissing him on the cheek, your hands deftly replacing his own to undo the buckles on the straps.

“Really?” you asked. “There was nothing special about today?”

His eyes flickered to yours as he caught your tone. You watched the quick flash of panic as he considered that he might have forgotten something important, like an anniversary, before he registered that you were still smiling adoringly at him. Only then, did he actually look around the room, searching for some clue for what was going on. His mouth fell open in shock and he stared, dumbfounded.

“What’s…all this?” he asked after a moment, stunned expression still in place as he gestured to the signs you had carefully taped to the walls.

“Well, if you looked a calendar, you’d know today is October 1st…”

“Uh-huh…” he nodded, eyes now falling on the table and the party hats sitting there.

“Which means today is…?”

“Y/N, what are you getting at?” he asked, facing you with a completely puzzled expression.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s your birthday, Diego. So I wanted to do something for you. I know it’s not much, but Al vetoed throwing you a party in the main room. Said something about it being a serious business, not a Chuck E. Cheese.”

“Y/N. This is your idea of ‘not much?’ There are balloons…” his voice was incredulous and for a moment you worried that he was annoyed.

“I…it’s just…I know your father was never big on parties…or fun…or joy…when you were growing up, so I wanted to do something nice for you. I thought, for once, you should have a proper birthday.”

You could see him melt at your words, offering you a soft smile. “It’s perfect, Baby. I…can’t believe you went through all this effort just for me.”

“Of course I did, I love you Diego.”

He grinned even wider at that, pulling you in for a kiss which warmed you to the core and made you very tempted to suggest skipping the dinner and cake that you had worked so hard to procure. After you reluctantly separated, you guided him over to the table and set a plate of take-out lasagna in front of him as if it was a five-star dinner at the most exclusive club in the world. The two of you ate in companionable quiet, one hand laced together over the tabletop the entire time. Even if you were in a dingy boiler-room, everything about the moment was perfect.

“There is one more thing…” you smirked as you set about cleaning up from both dinner and the chocolate cake that had followed. “Your birthday present.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Y/N. Not after all this.”

“Well I did anyway. But you’ll have to unwrap it.”

You returned his puzzled look with a temptingly raised eyebrow. His eyes trailed down over you slowly before flicking back to the look on your face.

“I think that can be arranged,” he said, stepping closer and placing his hands on your shoulders.

“I thought as much,” you replied. You itched to start planting kisses over every inch of him, but you wanted to let him have total control, do whatever he wanted tonight, so you stood as still as you could.

Slowly his hands trailed down your arms, ghosting over your flesh before he twined his fingers with yours.

“I might be the luckiest man in the world.”

He pulled you in close by your joined hands causing you to almost stumble into him as he kissed you, but quickly, you took control, impatient with his gentle touches. Tugging teasingly on his lower lip, you coaxed his mouth to part for you and allow you to explore every inch of his mouth, as if you didn’t know everything about him. Fingers still interlocked, you began luring him toward the small bed in the corner, step by faltering step.

You hadn’t gotten far when he pulled you up short with a growl, releasing your hands in order to tangle one of his in your hair, tugging lightly and drawing out a moan. With the other, he began to caress your side, running his fingers up and down, sliding increasingly lower past your hip until he reached the hemline of your dress. Bunching the fabric in his fingers, he gathered it and slowly pulled it off of you, hot skin brushing against yours as he exposed you and the royal blue lace lingerie you had bought specifically for the occasion. He pulled back to get a better look at you and groaned, the sound sending a thrill up your spine and drawing out even more of your desire.

“Do you have any idea the things I want to do to you, Y/N?” he asked, trailing kisses along your collarbone and down the slope of your breast.

He began moving again, backing you toward the bed as he continued to tease, using the hand still tangled in your tresses to angle your head and expose even more skin to him. You moved as he directed, a marionette for him, stumbling and shuffling in a passion-drunk haze.

“I have a few guesses,” you said breathlessly, one of your hands carding through his short, spiked hair and the other clinging desperately to his shoulder.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure what all he’d want to do with or to you, but you trusted him and surrendered to him completely, especially tonight. Anything he wanted, if it was within your power, would be his as far as you were concerned.

Your knees hit the edge of the bedframe and the pair of you fell back. You sighed in relief at not having to try to support yourself on jelly-like legs as he hovered over you.

“God, baby, you look so good like that,” he groaned.

Suddenly, there was a rapid knocking on his door.

“Diego,” the voice on the other side, one you recognized as his brother Klaus, whined through the thick panel. “It’s urgent.”

He sighed. “We could just ignore him. He’ll go away.”

“Or you can just acknowledge and get rid of him. I think knowing he’s hovering outside the door might…kill the mood a bit?”

Before he could respond, the man in question burst through the door in a fabulous flail of limbs and fur trim, landing face first.

“Oh! The door was unlocked!” he cried as he climbed gracelessly to his feet.

His eyes fell on you and Diego, lingering for longer than made either of you comfortable on your half-clothed form below his brother.

“You should hang up a sock or something at least,” Klaus teased.

Diego grunted in frustration, shaking his head and rolling his body to block Klaus’s view of you. “What do you want?”

“Well it’s our collective birthday. And during my third…fifth?...drink I found myself thinking, do I really want to spend today alone? No. I want to celebrate with someone important to me. And who could be more important to share today with than my beloved brother?”

Diego rolled his eyes as Klaus continued to ramble, either too high to realize just how much he was interrupting, or just not caring. The curly-haired man flopped sideways into the threadbare chair in one corner.

“So anyway, happy birthday, bro,” he drawled, kicking his legs about until he positioned himself in a way that he thought was comfortable, sprawled out and clearly determined to stay.

You sighed and reached down to the floor, digging out your dress from where it had somehow ended up, under the bed. Tugging it over your shoulders, you asked, a little sharply, “Do you want some cake, Klaus?”

He grinned and clapped his hands, “Oh I would love some. That is so sweet of you, Y/N.”

“No, babe, don’t. If you feed him he’s never going to leave,” Diego complained.

“I’m not going to be rude. It is his birthday too after all.”

You leaned in to whisper into Diego’s ear, nipping teasingly on the lobe as you did, “besides, it’s not like your present is going anywhere. It’s yours, any time any place.”

#Diego Hargreeves x Reader #Diego Hargreeves #reader insert #The Umbrella Academy.#TUA #Klaus is a loveable pain in the ass #is this too generic? survey says results inconclusive #requested

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shadow-assassin-blix · 3 years

Text

It Belongs in a Museum

CHAPTER 3

A/N: Okay. Lots sexy times for this one. A sex scene that was slightly inspired from... a certain... scene.. from Narcos. If you’ve seen it, you’ll know. (sex, blowjob, fingering, light choking). The scene in the lake was inspired from a movie called 6 Days, 7 nights. Um. That’s about it.

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

Pedro tag: @fioccodineveautunnale (another person requested to be tagged in pedro stuff, via the form but i cant find you? i know its m-1234 starts it but i think a number may have been left off? let me know)

A full week has passed since their new protectors had joined them. Vixen, Ezekiel, and Reina had spent the majority of the week creating a new path to the other side of the temple. They also set up lights and were in the process of documenting as much as they could. Vixen, who had plans to go to the nearby town to try and develop photos, wanted to bathe first.

She made her way to a nearby lake, with her eco-friendly soaps and shampoo/conditioner, and change of clothes. She had attempted to ditch Veracruz while he was barking orders, but he apparently caught on quickly.

“You don’t take your security very seriously, do you?” Veracruz asked behind her, quickly catching up to her.

Vixen rolled her eyes at that. “No. I just wanted privacy. Like most people do when they want to bathe.”

“Yes. Do you also want to be attacked again, all by yourself, against a group of men who would also probably try to take advantage of you in your vulnerable state?” He mocked.

Vixen sighed, annoyed, continuing to the lake. They arrived at the lake, and she quietly set her stuff down onto a flat boulder. She began to take off her clothes, reveling the bikini top and swim shorts she had on underneath. She took a few steps hesitantly, expecting it to be cold, but was pleasantly surprised by the warmth.

She sighed happily as she waded into the deeper waters. She dunked underneath, scrubbing her hair in the water, making sure it got wet throughout.

As she came back up, she noticed Veracruz had taken a seat on another boulder and was watching her with mild amusement.

She raised an eyebrow and began to ask him what was so amusing when she stopped suddenly. Something…. Had just crawled into her shorts.

“Veracruz… ummm… can you… can you help me? Please?” She asked horrified.

“Oh, now you want my help?” Veracruz asked teasing.

“Be serious, V. I think… a snake… is in my shorts… please, get off your ass… and help me,” She said through gritted teeth.

He coughed trying to cover up a laugh as he stripped down to his boxers and joined her in the water.

“I mean… I could… try and grab it...” She muttered worriedly.

“Hmm. Wouldn’t do that… might be poisonous,” He countered in a tone that suggested he was enjoying this far too much.

“Well. What do I do?” She asked growing annoyed.

Veracruz moved closer to her and said, “I’ll get it and kill it.”

He gently slipped his hand down her shorts, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I better not see you smiling,” She warned, her eyes narrowing at him.

“Never,” He replied, failing to conceal his smile.

She felt his hand brushing her thighs and hips, purposely missing the very obvious creature that was wrapping itself around her leg.

When he finally lifted his hand, he presented a small snake, of which he snapped its neck and threw its corpse to shore.

Vixen shuddered slightly, “Gross. Now I see why the professor hates them.”

She looked up at Veracruz who eyes had darkened. He hooked a finger into her shorts and pulled her forward. The sudden movement caused her to stumble into his chest, her hands splaying out onto his pecs.

She returned her gaze back up to his, just as his hands reached down, grabbing her ass firmly, and lifting her up. Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist, as her arms encircled his neck. His lips find hers swiftly, dragging them into a deep kiss. One of his hands slid up and under her top, taking her breast into his hand, flickering over the nipple teasingly.

The sensation made her gasp, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. Their mouths battled each other for a moment before she pulled away trying to catch her breath. She bit her lip as she looked at him, motioning with her head over to the shore. He took the cue and carried her back to land.

As he laid her down on the ground, his hands made quick work of the top strings of her bikini and her shorts. He hovered over her, pressing kisses to her neck and chest, biting here and there. His tongue lavished over her nipples, before drawing them into his mouth to suck on them. When he pulled away, he allowed his teeth to drag across them.

Her moans were soft for the most part, but when he moved further down between her legs, gently blowing on her cunt, she groaned loudly.

“Now, now, princess. You have to remember to be quiet. Don’t want anyone… interrupting us and seeing do we?” He teased pressing a kiss to her thigh. “Unless… you want us to get caught? Does that excite you? The possibility of getting caught?”

Vixen shook her head no, biting her lip.

Veracruz dragged a finger up and down her slit, commenting, “I think you’re lying. Look at how wet you are?”

He showed off his finger, as it glistened.

“I was also just in a lake. What makes you think that’s from you?” She challenged, raising an eyebrow at him.

His eyes narrowed as his smirk grew. He lowered his hand back down dragged the finger up and down once more, before plunging it deep within her. His finger was soon joined by two others while his thumb brushed against her clit several times. Her hips began to wiggle and thrust to his movements, wanting more, but Veracruz was having none of that. His other hand came forward and stopped her movements, with a firm push.

His fingers moved swiftly, finding a spot that made her see stars as she came. She had to slap her hand over mouth to muffle the small scream that threaten to break out.

He pulled his hand from her, showing her them, “I’m pretty sure that’s not from the lake, sweetness.��

She rolled her eyes, before sitting up, and grasping his face and kissing him. As they kissed, she slipped her hands into his boxers, running it up and down his length. She gently tugs at his boxers, wanting them off. He shoves this down haphazardly, not wanting to break the kiss.

She positioned herself into his lap, slowly lifting herself before easing down onto him. The both of them moaned softly as she took him. Once she was fully seated, she gently grinded against him, before lifting her hips up and down. Her pace started slow, but picked up speed, that was assisted by Veracruz; his hands holding her in a bruising grip.

He thrusted up several times, which just added to the intensity of it all. He suddenly stops her and pulls out. She looked at him confused for a moment. He moved her on to her hands and knees, re-entering her from behind. The new angle threw her for a loop. The thrusts felt deeper and it felt amazing to feel him drag along her folds.

One of his hands, curled around to her front, and lightly grasped her throat. She could feel his grip tighten and ease randomly, the movement adding a taste of danger. He pulled her off her hands, his grip still around her throat, while his other began to play with her clit.

Her hands reached back for him, one around his neck to bury into his hair, and the other grasped the arm that was holding her throat.

His movements quickly led to her orgasming again, his following a moment later. When his thrusts came to a stop, he held her to him for a moment, kissing up and down her neck, praising her.

“You did so well, my dear. Good girl,” He whispered into her ear.

He slowly pulled out and she fell forward a bit, trying to catch her breath. It took a few minutes, before her legs would cooperate and let her stand back up. Veracruz had already redressed by that time and was staring at her with a proud smirk.

She quietly cleaned up, and washed herself off, like she originally had planned, this time not caring to be au natural in front of him. Got dressed in her clean clothes, and they began to make their trek back to camp, to drop off her things, and grab all of the film and SD cards from the digital cameras. Once she had gathered all that she needed, her and Veracruz made their way back down to where his team had parked their jeeps.

They jumped into one of them and began making their way back to civilization. The drive to the nearby town took 2 hours. Developing all of the photos took another 2 hours, by the time she had printed off the last of the photos, and paid for them, it had begun to rain.

They raced to the safety of the jeep and sat inside it for waiting for the rain to pass. While they waited, they talked.

“So, how long will you be staying in Colombia?” He asked somewhat boredly.

“3 months. We have 3 other countries to explore, before heading back to the states. Why? You going to miss me?’ She teased with a smile.

“Hmm. No. Not at all. Just wondering how long I’ll have you to myself,” He replied with a roll of his eyes.

She didn’t quite believe him but didn’t push the subject.

“Were you born and raised in Colombia?” She asked curiously.

“Si,” He answered simply.

“Have you ever been anywhere else? Or is this there a place you’ve traveled to that you really liked or want to go see?” She questioned, resting on her side against her seat.

“Yes. I’ve traveled to several countries and while many of them were beautiful, none were Colombia,” He said in a tone that was surprisingly soft.

“I’m actual kind of sad that I only get to be here for a few months, before traveling elsewhere,” Vixen admitted with a sigh.

She turned her gaze to stare out the windows and watch the rainfall. As she did so, she missed the way Veracruz eyed her up and down curiously.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake away the thoughts that had creeped into his mind.

“It appears we may be stuck here for a while. We may as well go get a hotel and some food,” Veracruz noted, starting the jeep.

They drove down a block or so and stopped at a small motel. Veracruz jumped out to go get a room for the night. He came back with a key that had the number 8 on it, and he moved the jeep closer to said room. The two of them unloaded what few things were in the jeep, into the room for safekeeping.

The room was small and dimly lit, and there was only one bed. A bed that honestly looked like it had seen better days. There was a small table and 2 chairs, and one couch. They set their stuff near the couch and turned on the main light that was obnoxiously bright.

With the extra light, they could see that the room appeared clean, but Veracruz was not taking chances with the bed. Veracruz pulled out some spare sheets from the linen closet and threw them over the entire bed to cover it. He then unrolled a blanket they brought inside and threw it on top of that, finishing it off with a sleeping bag unrolled and acting as a pillow.

Vixen stared at him with mild amusement as she watched this entire process. He looked up at her and just muttered, “Trust me, you don’t want to be under these covers, or touching them.”

She mouthed an okay with a silent snicker.

He grabbed the keys, telling her, “I’m going to get food, don’t open this door unless it’s me, got it?”

Vixen nodded her head, locking the door behind him.

She grabbed the stack of photos she had printed and began trying to decipher what the runes, and inscriptions were describing. From her understanding, it was a center of worship for a deity. A deity that appeared to be either a sun god or one for agriculture. She noticed sun motifs and depictions of farming/fruit. She would have to have Professor Jones look it over to be sure.

She was so focused on her work, she didn’t notice the time pass by, and jumped when she heard a knock at the door.

She got up and looked through the peephole to check who was there. She spotted Veracruz standing there and opened the door for him.

“Next time ask me to identify myself. Don’t look out a peephole. That’s how you get killed,” Veracruz tells her gruffly as he moved past her with a bag of food.

“Okay...” She said slowly following him over to the dingy table, hungry.

“It’s just a couple of empanadas, most places have closed because of the rain. I radioed my men to let them know we would be in by morning,” Veracruz informed her handing her a few wrapped in aluminum.

She took them, and some napkins, and went back to her spot on the bed. She set them down to cool for a moment while she looked over some more photos. She at some point very slowly, unwrapped them with one hand, and took small bites, trying not to make a mess.

By the time she had finished one, Veracruz had devoured both of his and was quietly observing her from afar. He found it strangely attractive watching her work. Her face would crinkle as she tried to identify a symbol, before marking it down in her small notebook between bites.

By the time she finished eating, night had fallen, and the rain was coming down harder. There was no heater in the room, so the chill was intense. She found herself a stopping point in her photos, to clean up her mess. She took off her shoes, and her pants, before undoing her bra from under her shirt. She set her clothes on one of the bags, not trusting to leave it on the furniture.

Veracruz was already in just his boxers, relaxing on the bed, watching her with a smirk.

“Don’t get too excited. We are just sleeping,” She said rolling her eyes, as she slipped under the blanket.

“Why... whatever do you mean, Vixen?” He mockingly asked, his smirk growing.

He reached over and turned off the light, and they awkwardly laid there for a moment. She shivered and tried to huddle further into the blanket to fight off the slight chill. She hears Veracruz sigh and move around.

He was suddenly close to her, pulling her into his arms.

“Neither of us are going to sleep if you keep shivering,” He lightly complained.

She blinked in the darkness of the room, biting her lip to stop the smile on her face. She simply made herself comfortable and settled into his arms, feeling warmer within seconds.

She fell asleep in minutes. Veracruz took a bit longer to fall asleep, for he was mentally berating himself for suggesting this. He was being ridiculous. He could feel himself starting to care for her. He knew that he should reassign someone to guard her, but he couldn’t do that. The thought of anyone else getting close to her made his jaw tense, and fists clench.

She was his.

With that thought, he fell asleep.

The next morning, Vixen woke up comfortably warm and vaguely aware that her pillow was moving. She opened her eyes and sees that she’s lying on Veracruz’s chest. He was still asleep. She took a moment to quietly admire him. He was painfully handsome and seeing him relaxed made it even more apparent.

She languidly sat up, taking a moment to stretch her arms and back. Her movements woke Veracruz, who quietly admired her. He ran his hand up her back, a shiver going through her at the tickling situation. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.

“Good morning,” She greeted with a small smile.

“Indeed… but I feel like it could be better,” He teased reaching up to pull her back down.

He rolls slightly onto his side, running his hand up and down her sides. She raised an eyebrow at him, noticing his hand move lower and lower.

“We have to get back to the others. We don’t have time for this,” She whispered.

“Hm. We have time for me to do just one thing…” He smirked, his hand slipping into her underwear.

She went to protest, but the only sound that came out was a moan as he dipped a finger into her, his thumb brushing over her clit.

She bit her lip, cleared her throat. Tried to regain some sense of composure.

“V. We… we have to be back on the… r-road. Soon,” She tried to speak, but struggled as he played her like a fiddle.

His response was simply to pepper her neck in kisses and bites and move his fingers faster. It didn’t take him long, but soon her vision went white, as her back arched up.

She took a couple of deep breaths as she came down from her high. Veracruz slowly withdrew his hand from her underwear. He got up and went to the bathroom for a few minutes.

She gets up, once her body had calmed down and grabbed her clothes, tossing them on before going into the bathroom once Veracruz stepped out. She cleaned herself up, and they moved their stuff into the jeep. They were back on the road in minutes. Vixen spotted a local vendor selling arepas and she had Veracruz stop. She ordered a dozen or so for the team as a treat.

She knew that they might be a smidge cold by the time they got back to camp but she knew they would appreciate the food. She ate hers while they drove up. Veracruz shook his head at her as she very messily ate it.

He chuckled as some of the filling dropped onto her chest.

“Shut up,” She mumbled her mouth full, as she scooped the food up and stuffed it into her mouth.

It didn’t take long for them to return to the camp. As he parked, she looked over at him.

“I uh. Never got repay you for this morning,” She mentioned looking him over.

“Don’t need to. I enjoyed watching you come undone with just my hand,” He told her looking over at her.

She smiled secretively and reached over to run her hand over the growing bulge in his pants.

She gently undid his pants, slipping her hand in to run it over his length before pulling it out. As she ran her hand over it, she repositioned herself in her seat. She slowly lowered her mouth to the tip, her tongue lightly lavishing it.

She could hear him groan as she began to take him into her mouth.

She pulled back to mockingly admonished him, “Now, now princess. Mind your volume. Wouldn’t want anyone to hear you?”

Veracruz opened his mouth to say something back but before he could, she took him back into her mouth. She took as much of him into her mouth as she could handle; her hands taking care of the rest of him. She bobbed her head up and down, at a set pace. She loved hearing the noises that were coming from him.

She continued until he came, swallowing as much as she could. Some lightly spilled out, and she wiped it from her face as she sat back up. He cleared his throat and tucked himself back in. He turned to her, reaching into the center console pulling out some wet wipes for her.

She ripped one open and used it to clean herself up. Once that was done, Veracruz pulled her into a kiss.

He bit her lip as he pulled away, muttering to her, “Don’t ever call me princess again. Or I’ll put you over my knee.”

“Promises, promises,” She teased him, getting her stuff and stepping out.

When they got back up to the camp, she pulled out the food and photos for her team. They all began to eat and check over her work and give their opinions. As they talked, Professor Jones asked to speak to Veracruz for a moment.

“Comandante. I just wanted to state I appreciate the work you and your men are doing for us,” Indiana began.

“But…” Veracruz provided sensing it.

“But I would appreciate it if you kept your eyes and hands to yourself. Vixen is one of my best students, I will not tolerate anyone using her to their advantage. She may a grown adult, and she can make her own choices. But I will not tolerate you using her,” Indiana informed him.

“What happens between the 2 of us is none of your business, professor. As you said, she’s an adult. It’s all consensual, if that’s what you’re worried about?” Veracruz replied back, trying to control his anger.

“No. What I’m worried is in about 3 months’ time, we will be leaving here. Moving onto the next dig site, not in Colombia. Knowing her, she will be conflicted in leaving here, you. She will continue on with us, but I know she’ll think about the what ifs. Do not get her hopes up where there is none to be had,” Indiana warned him before walking away.

Veracruz glared at his back as he rejoined Vixen and the other students. He went to check on things with his men, to distract himself.

Vixen caught the professor up on what she had discovered. Once they were caught up, they began to discuss their next steps involving the site. There were still several hallways left to discover and go through. They decided they were going to split them up between the 4 of them and work through each path.

Later that day, it was just Vixen and Reina talking strategy on how to get better pictures on some of the inscriptions they found.

Reina stopped midway through a sentence and said, “I’m sorry. But. I’m slightly bored. Do you mind if we gossip for a few minutes?”

“Always,” Vixen said taking a seat in one of the camping chairs.

Reina joined her, sitting next to her.

“So… what’s the deal with you and the Comandante?” She asked trying to hide her smile.

“Whatever do you mean?” Vixen replied looking away.

“Uh huh. Lies. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Like you’re a 5-course meal, and he’s starving,” Reina whispered to her.

Vixen choked out a laugh. When she controlled herself, she tells Reina about what happened their first night there.

“Damn girl. You move fast. Explains why, he wanted to be your personal bodyguard. Wanted to be as close to you as possible,” Reina joked with a laugh.

“What about you and Tadeo? I’ve seen you do your hair twirl thing when you talk to him?” Vixen asked, redirecting the attention.

“I don’t know. He’s very handsome, but I don’t know if he’s interested in girls? He hasn’t reacted much to my flirting… like at all,” Reina tells her, her tone sad.

“Or he could be oblivious to when a girl is flirting with him?” Vixen offered trying to be comforting.

“But also, there’s like 15 other men you can shoot your shot with. If it doesn’t work with him, I am sure there is someone else who will gladly… stare at you like “you’re a 5-course meal,” as you say,” Vixen mentioned, waving her hand to the group of men that was standing 30 ft from them.

Reina chuckled at her.

They spent a few more minutes talking about girly stuff, not noticing Professor Jones and Ezekiel were walking up to them.

“Hm. Makeup and boys. Doesn’t sound quite educational does it, Ezekiel?” Professor Jones ribbed as they joined them.

“It can be educational. So, are we going to start our work tomorrow?” Reina asked, straightening up in her chair.

“Yes. Four hallways. Four paths. Slow and steady. All of you. I don’t want any more injuries,” Professor Jones firmly stated.

They all nodded their heads. They spent the rest of the evening planning out their safety strategies and what equipment to take with them.

It was a somewhat tedious process, but it was necessary for them to complete so everyone was on the same page.

None of them knew just how valuable these procedures were going to be come morning.

#indiana jones crossover #comandante veracruz #veracruz x reader

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clnriswood · 4 years

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ARCHIE ANDREWS X READER

Big Little Town: Part Three

a/n: last chapter before things move to rd high and it’s not so smooth sailing! i hope you enjoy this kind of calm before the storm fluffiness! as usual i am so excited to write this and cannot wait to continue! don’t forget to request if you want to be on the tag list.

tag list: @my-soul-is-the-moon

What she woke up to the next morning was far worse than any sound an alarm could produce. What she woke up to was Archie Andrews standing smugly in her doorway. He wore grey sweats and a sleeveless dark blue lightweight mesh shirt, his auburn hair slicked perfectly up and the whites of his teeth flashing as he looked down at the girl. Sunbeams leaked from between her curtains and down upon him like he was some ethereal being, which didn’t help.

“Oh my god?” she said, opening one eye groggily.

“Said I was gonna help you move,” Archie smiled, doing his best to refrain from laughing.

The girl rolled over to peer at her alarm clock, “you didn’t clarify it’d be at nine in the morning.”

Archie clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “your mom promised me doughnuts, which-” he grinned sheepishly, sauntering towards her, “you’d know if you hadn’t run away last night.”

“Archie,” she groaned, throwing one of her many pillows at him and watching as he caught it, only to send it hurdling back at her.

“That’s not very gentlemanly of you,” she grumbled, sitting up in bed and bundling her sheets around her front.

“Well,” he shrugged, reaching towards her bedside to lift up a chipped cream colored mug, “I figured the coffee I made would make up for it.”

“You came in here before?” she said with surprise as he approached her bed, towering over her.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want to wake you up but your mom told me I’d have more luck than her so I came back and, well, here I am.”

Archie sat down beside the girl, sinking into her many quilts and placing the cup between her outstretched palms.

“Archie Andrews, watching me sleep?” she winked playfully, taking a sip of the extremely mediocre hot drink.

“Archie Andrews, watching you drool,” he clarified.

She spat her coffee into the mug in surprise, lowering it slowly and raising her embarrassed eyes up to his sparkling chocolate ones timidly. Archie pressed his tongue knowingly into the side of his cheek as she set her drink down.

“Liar,” she scoffed.

“I could prove it” he challenged, folding his hands in his lap and lifting one leg lazily onto her bed.

“You couldn’t unless you came back to my bed again,” she shrugged, the words coming out so quickly she didn’t register how awful they sounded.

Archie clearly did though, for he raised his brows, replying, “is that an invitation?”

Her face fell, skin burning as she jeered, “never in a million years, Archie Andrews.”

Archie’s lips split as he chuckled at her, unmoving when she shoved him. His glittering chocolate eyes flickered back and forth over hers, coaxing them into doing his bidding. And sure enough, she couldn’t help but mirror that smile, his god sent dimples making her heart do laps around her chest. Feeling her cheeks flush, she threw the entire blanket over her head and commanded him to leave.

“Why, are you hiding something awful under there?”

In reality she wasn’t hiding anything but her embarrassment and a set of pj’s she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in front of Archie Andrews, so--

“Yes. My bottom half is a giant crab,” she decided, her voice muffled under the sheets.

Archie snorted, defeated as he rose from the bed, “okay, (Y/N).”

She heard him lean down by her and pick up her mug, the faint slurping noise indicating he’d taken a sip of her drink. Not one second later she heard the boy spit back the liquid in protest.

“Oh my god that’s disgusting.”

. . .

The rest of the day was long, hot, and productive. All in all it took about seven hours to get everything done, partially because her mother had so many keepsakes, and partially because of the helplessness of both girls. Quite likely, though, it would’ve taken another seven without Archie’s strength and doughnut fueled perseverance. While he’d exchanged playful banter with the girl in passing, between the heat induced fatigue and her mother constantly hovering, there was little to no bonding between the two. When they finally finished, the girl took a victory lap surveying the house. It was like an urban home decorating hoarder had taken residence in their house. There were a number of light rugs, wooden tables, decorative lamps, and potted plants scattered around the house, giving it that feeling. Her own room felt kind of empty, comparatively. Well, it had the old headboard, some scattered greenery, the large antique mirror, and a creaky table stacked with dusty books, but there was no personality to it. There were no photos, no school tokens, no awards or cards, and no sign of, well, meaningfulness.

“What do you think?” Archie asked her from her doorway, startling the girl who stood staring into her room.

She turned around, hair catching on her lip as she faced the auburn haired boy who stood with his arms folded neatly over his muscular front.

“Um,” she shrugged, moving her hair aside, “it’s fine.”

Archie raised his brows in silent questioning.

“It’s lacking meaning,” she shrugged in dramatic admittance, swinging her hands up into the air. “I know that sounds ridiculous, there’s just-- it’s just-- this could be anyone’s room, you know? There’s nothing in here that tells you about who I am, not that anyone cares, clearly” she sighed.

“Hm,” Archie nodded with a nod and a thoughtful frown.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but chose to keep it to himself.

“Hey,” he decided, “in time.”

She pursed her lips with a stiff nod, “in time.”

The boy stepped closer timidly, trying for a nervous smile, “until then, I promised you some fun.”

She half sighed half laughed, eyes struggling to keep hold of his distracting large brown ones.

“C’mon,” he insisted. “Sun’s gonna set soon so we better get out now.”

“Yeah, why?” she puzzled.

Archie bit his cheek with a sweet smile, “so we can catch footballs and you can tell me about your life before it gets too dark. Like old times.”

She scowled, “Archie Andrews.”

“Yes?” he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth in a frustrating smile. “C’mon? For old times sake?”

“I’m not dressed for the occasion,” she protested.

She indicated at her dress choice, which was simply an oversized grey tee and ankle high ruffled baby blue socks that stuck up from her dirty white shoes.

“As opposed to?” he played along with a half smile.

She frowned at the redhead, “full body armor and a helmet.”

“Shut up,” Archie snorted, grabbing the girl by her wrist and dragging her helplessly protesting self down behind him.

“I don’t like sports,” she grumbled, unable to break free from his grip which she was fairly certain took about five percent of his total strength. “No, correction, I can’t do sports.”

Archie just let out a short airy laugh and pulled her past her bemused mother downstairs and onto the front lawn. The sun was at that phase where it was pre-setting time, meaning it was just hot enough for a faint slick of sweat, but not enough for a total pass out. Also, the rays of light were a brilliant gold color that bathed the two in a warm glowing haze. The grass squashed under her feet as Archie quickly retrieved a football from his porch and went jogging back to the unamused girl who now had pulled her long hair into a high ponytail that suited her well. Archie seemed to think so, at least.

“There you go,” he flashed a pleased smile, which dazzled gorgeously under the sun, “you’re… it suits you.”

She pressed her tongue against her cheek in a wordless nervous reply, eyes glazing over the boy’s broad form and the translucent sheen that had built attractively on his skin. His long locks of fiery hair were still slicked in a perfect shape, his large hands pulling at his thin blue shirt in an attempt to air out his chest a little. He frankly looked too good and it was annoying. The girl huffed out in annoyance, bending down and sliding two fingers in the mud beneath her feet while Archie watched with mingled confusion and amusement. She stood back up straight, outstretching her muddy fingers and stomping over to him as he went stepping back with a full laugh.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), absolutely not,” Archie crinkled his nose.

“Oh absolutely,” she said, grabbing him by the wrist this time.

Archie very obviously let her do it. He could’ve sent her flying back with a flick if he’d wanted to, but instead he just swung his hips forward and his head back as she came in contact with his front, her free hand grabbing him by his sharply curved jaw and forcing his face closer to hers. In actuality, there was no way she could reach his face if she wasn’t on her toes and forcing his face down. Archie half protested half laughed as she swiped two fingers across his high cheekbones, leaving him classic football paint stripes on either side of his perfectly curvatured face. He blinked down at her, eyes shifting all over as he tried lamely to watch as she worked at him, unable to stop the dimples that creased his cheeks as he did.

“As long as we’re sticking to the old days,” she teased, holding him still and tilting her head with an impressed smirk.

Archie ran his tongue over his teeth with a laugh, “you remember that?”

“Course,” she scoffed, still on her toes and alarmingly close to the boy, their fronts pressed lightly into each other, her fingers still nimbly wrapped around his wrist, which he had yet to retract. “Archie Andrews telling me all about how he was gonna make quarterback in high school and how I’d do up his war paint for the games? How could I forget.”

Archie shrugged with an annoying smug about him, “and I did make high school quarterback.”

“Ew,” she scowled, releasing him and dropping back down to the balls of her feet, “really?”

“Really,” he said, dropping down to the ground and sinking his own two fingers into the mud.

“No,” she protested, but he was already back up and had her by her cheek, his one hand alone being strong enough to subdue her.

“And if I remember correctly,” he continued lowly, eyes dropping to focus on her face as he slowly dragged his cold wet index and middle fingers against her struggling cheek, “you were then going to cheer me on during those games?”

He finished one side of her paint, looking impressed at his work and grinning as he swiftly forced her jaw the other direction in his palm, bringing her chest up into his so he could access her properly. No, Archie Andrews power gripping her and looking like that while he smeared dirt on her wasn’t in any way driving her crazy.

“From the stadiums,” she growled in annoyance as he fixed up her other cheek with mud.

“Mm? You never mentioned that part,” he grumbled in amusement, finishing her up and gliding his hand beneath her chin so he could hold her there and look at her. He internalized something that made him smile, his chocolate eyes drinking her up as he added, “school year just started, you could try out for the Vixen’s.”

She stared up at him through long lashes and a pout, sun blazing into her eyes, her only shade being from the boy who towered over her, “never.”

He frowned, dropping his hand quickly and taking a step back so that they were an appropriate distance apart. Again, it looked clearly like he had something on his mind, but in typical Archie fashion, wouldn’t say it.

“I told you Andrews,” she sighed and took backwards steps, “not my thing.”

“Yeah?” he threw the football, smiling when she caught it. “What is? Tell me what I’ve missed.”

“Not much,” she admitted, taking another step back and returning the ball, “still music.”

Archie raised a brow, “good form for someone who apparently can’t play.” He took a step back, making each throw and catch a little harder. “Just guitar still?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, once again catching his throw and adding, “I’ve had practice, with football I mean.”

“Me too,” he said, “guitar playing, though. And who taught you?”

He stepped back, one hand quickly dragging through his auburn locks before refitting itself around the ball. He threw it again.

“Veronica mentioned that” she caught the ball, impressing the boy. “And yeah I did some sports at my old high school,” she admitted.

“Right. I’ve been playing guitar for years,” he replied, catching her throw, “and how was that?

“I’d love to hear you play some,” her lips twitched as she stepped back, half the garden now between the two. “And yeah, it was fine. Not my thing though. I just thought it could help me branch out, maybe make some friends.”

Her pony swung behind her as she threw the ball back, Archie easily catching it, “I’d love to hear you play sometime. And did that not work out for you?”

The grass flattened beneath her old white shoes as she jumped a little to catch the next throw, struggling a bit now. “No and no,” she replied.

“Why?” he said simply, catching the ball once more and sending it back her way, the two clearly enjoying this throw and catch talk that unsurprisingly came naturally to them.

She shook her head, barely catching his next throw, “No I’m too nervous for that, and no, I reinvented myself as the happy-go-lucky girl but it only lasted so long before word got out about why I’d actually moved and I went back to loner freak.”

Archie’s face fell as he caught her throw, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know how else to reply as he threw the football back to her, watching as she fumbled and lost the ball from her grip. She looked upset but unsurprised, eyes averting his as she exhaled pathetically.

“See Archie? I’m not that good.”

The sun was setting now, casting shadows along the curves of his saddened features, the light turning grey and the air quickly turning colder. The boy approached the now unmoving girl, reaching down and picking up the ball, placing it lightly into her faintly shaking hands. She accepted it, looking defeatedly up at his gorgeously narrowed eyes in silent question.

“How about,” he phrased softly, “you pretend this ball is everything that’s happened the last few years, and I’ll catch it. That way you don’t have to tell me anything else, you can just show me. And I won’t have to reply, I’ll just get it.”

He said it gently, and it was so reasonable and sweet she couldn’t say no, so she just nodded.

Archie gave a weak smile and stepped back, sprinting all the way up to the other side of the garden and awaiting the angry metaphor football. She thought about throwing it but decided against it, instead dropping the ball towards her feet and slamming her toes into it, sending the ball zooming so far through the air that Archie went stumbling back even further, his arms outstretched. That kick was good. That kick was for each and every person who made her feel outcast, for years of feigned happiness, resentment, depression, for her mom’s suffering, and for her dad, too. And there it went, hurdling against the grey sky and safely between Archie’s hands and into his chest. Her eyes burned a little, not knowing how to process whatever was happening. But seeing Archie there, holding all of her baggage and looking happy about it, made her feel a little less alone.

Archie tucked the ball under his large arm, heading back to her slowly. When he reached her he opened his mouth, then shut it. The sun was almost set now, shadows swaying round the curves of his face, his eyes looking dark under the dim sky.

“Did you want to stop?” he asked, eyes set forward on the girl.

She shook her head, “no. I want to hear more about you.”

They played like that, passing the ball back and forth, for another half hour. This time Archie did all the talking. She learned how he helped solve a murder, got pulled into the Lodge family scandals, and was almost murdered on multiple occassions. While under any circumstance this would’ve been overwhelming news, the way Archie calmly glided over each subject in a few minutes like it was completely normal gave the girl the sense that Jughead was being serious when he called Riverdale a cracktown. Finally, when it was too dark to continue playing comfortably, they stopped. There was just enough light out that they could still make out each other’s features.

“That was nice,” Archie’s lips twitched as he sauntered slowly over to her, adding, “it’s kind of late.”

She stared at him, unsure of how to respond. She wasn’t certain if this was his cue to go but she sure as hell didn’t want it to be.

“Yeah,” she agreed lamely, “are you-- do you need to head back now?”

Archie tapped the football nervously, “I mean I don’t need to head back.”

She cleared her throat, “wh-- did you, did you want to head back?”

Archie scratched his ear in confusion, “did you want me to?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth nervously, “uh, well, I’m not tired honestly.”

He just stared at her with those big dark eyes, “me neither.”

Then they both just looked at each other like a pair of idiots, neither wanting to be the first to initiate something. Realizing this, the girl snorted, making Archie snort, making them both snort.

“Sorry,” she giggled, “would you like to come in?”

“Actually,” Archie said, “I was thinking you could come to mine?”

Why on earth that caused her stomach to drop to the center of the earth, she had no idea.

“Sure,” she smiled, feigning total ease.

“Sure,” Archie repeated, smiling against the near black of the night.

. . .

Archie’s room was cramped but cozy. There were dark blue painted walls that sloped into the ceiling, a faded carpet, navy plaid blankets layered thick on his bed, band posters, Riverdale memorabilia, pictures of his friends, and a guitar propped against his wall. It smelled just like his car; kind of that musty man cologne combination that weirdly mingled well. Archie even seemed a little nervous to bring her in, which was strange given that she felt like the intruder, and that she loved his room, which she told him.

“This is great,” she announced to his wall with a smile, turning to look at the fiery redhead who was slumped against his door frame.

“You think?” he said.

“I know,” she decided.

She walked over to the corner of his room, sinking down onto Archie’s bed and giving it a bounce up and down. It squeaked obnoxiously under her, making the girl stop abruptly and place her hands against her face with a laugh.

“Sorry,” Archie crinkled his nose, “that thing is a million years old.”

“So you’re saying our next adventure is going mattress shopping?” she joked.

Archie picked his guitar up gingerly and headed over to the girl, sitting on the opposite side of his bed with a smile, “next adventure?”

She felt her cheeks warm but played it off, “if you’d have me.”

Archie grinned lopsidedly, making her heart run circles, “I would.”

She nodded, rubbing her lips together nervously and changing subject, “what’re you doing with that?”

Archie looked down at his guitar, “I-- well you’d asked to hear me play, and I thought, maybe--”

“Of course I would!” she interjected, saving him from embarrassment.

Truthfully, she was way too afraid to play in front of him yet but was desperate to get a listen of his music, which she felt like he was very much aware of.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, folding her legs up onto his bed.

“Uh, I write some stuff,” he shrugged.

“Really?” she gaped, impressed.

“Yeah,” Archie swayed his head, “used to at least. I haven’t in a long time.”

“Oh,” she said, “well, play me something old then?”

Archie nodded, giving her a timid smile before moving his eyes down to the guitar, placing his fingers nimbly upon the strings and giving them a quick strum before starting his song. The last time he’d played she’d just taught him basic chords and a half of some beginner’s song from her old starter-book. What Archie played now, however, was nothing like that. Not only was he good, he was… incredible. His hands gilded masterfully over the instrument, never once faltering as he played out a beautiful slow song to which he hummed softly along to. And his voice. His voice was beautiful, or at least she gathered so from what he’d shown her. Archie got a little more confident midway through his song, raising his eyes to the girl and watching her as he played, not needing to look at what he was doing. Her eyes were narrowed softly with admiration, lips tilted upwards into a proud little smile. Seeing her dumbfounded reaction, he smiled a little too, and she could hear that smile vibrating around in the hum of his voice.

She didn’t want to interrupt but she couldn’t help but interject softly, “sing?”

Archie’s lashes fluttered nervously as he gave a little nod, opening his lips to let the final words of his song come through. For that part he kept his eyes down, too closed off to sing while looking at her. The voice that came out was like honey and butter; sweet, soft, and good. When he finished they both just kind of sat there in silence for a minute, with Archie waiting for his cue to look up.

“Wow, Archie,” she stuttered in awe, “that was--”

“I know it’s not much,” he laughed airly, rubbing the back of his hand against his temple.

“No,” she said, reaching toward him to put a hand on his knee.

The boy brought his large brown eyes up to hers slowly, lips set downwards, looking unfamiliar with her touch.

“Phenomenal,” she corrected him, giving Archie’s knee a squeeze as her lips split into a grin.

His eyes moved back and forth over hers like he doubted it, smiling adorably “really?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, scooting closer to him so that their knees touched, making Archie recoil nervously.

She was too absorbed in the aftermath of his song to even be phased by it at the moment, nor was she aware that she’d done it.

“Teach me,” she stated seriously, eyes steady on his. “Or just play with me, at least.”

“What?” he laughed a little, “you’re kidding.”

“No,” she shook her head frantically, “you’re just as good as me. Hell, you’re better. And you can sing? Are you freaking kidding me Archie Andrews?”

He looked so startled by her flattery that he didn’t seem to know how to respond.

“That was the first time I’ve touched my guitar in over a year,” he protested.

“Yeah and I’ve barely played mine,” she admitted with a frown, “so?”

She blinked at the boy with these big doe eyes, unintentionally, though it certainly had an affect on him. He opened his mouth to protest again, but seeing her, shook his auburn hair out with internal frustration.

“Okay,” he relaxed his shoulders, “fine.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, bouncing up on his bed and clapping her hands to her mouth with a huge smile.

Archie watched, unable to suppress his own amused grin, “it means that much, huh?”

She pursed her lips, giving a short nod and letting her lips fall, “I haven’t had anything to look forward to in so long, Archie.”

His eyes softened with sadness, “really?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Nothing really made me happy, and even the things that did I had no one to share them with.”

Her eyes swayed nervously over his morose expression, making her feel like a mood killer as she scooted further back away from him, their closeness now feeling intimidating. Suddenly a tight knot was forming in her chest, making her feel awkward and out of place next to him. But he seemed to see it, for he leaned forward, placing his own hand upon her knee to stop her from moving back.

“Hey,” he murmured gently. “Look.”

She huffed lowly, feeling stupid for the burning sensation that was clawing at her eyes and ignoring his request as such.

“Look at me,” Archie said again, forceful this time.

She did, and his eyes were so kind and understanding when she did that it physically hurt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been remotely emotionally intimate, and the idea of having someone to confide in was so foreign to her that it sent her brain into overdrive. Archie’s dark eyes bore into hers like he was trying to tell her something without words, and he lifted himself forward so that his legs were smushed tightly against her own. He set the guitar down on the bed beside him, his hands itching to go somewhere but remaining in his lap.

“Listen,” he half whispered. “Whatever happens at school this year, or at all in your life, I intend on being there for, okay?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her teeth pressed hard against each other as she sucked slow breaths in through her nose, unmoving.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t before, when you left, I mean. I just thought maybe you didn’t want me to be. When you left last time, you just… you didn’t say goodbye.”

Archie’s eyes shone with hurt, but he continued on before she could respond, not that she’d know what to say.

“But what you said, earlier, about nobody caring? It’s-- It’s just wrong,” he said with frustration. “Because I do. I care. And I’m going to do everything in my power to be that person you can share your things with,” he said, tucking his lower lip between his teeth in thought, “I promise.”

She felt the knot unravel.

“Thanks, Arch.”

She hadn’t meant to call him by that. She never had before. It was always funny, lighthearted, ‘Archie Andrews’ she’d call him. But it just hadn’t felt right. And good for it, because judging by the twitch of his lips he’d liked it.

“And I know you have a lot of people who already would vouch the same for you,” she sighed pathetically, “but if it counts for anything, I promise too.”

Archie’s brows furrowed, something she’d said clearly not sitting right with him, but he held himself back.

“Good,” he decided softly.

“Good,” she repeated, struggling to maintain his thoughtful gaze.

Every microsecond looking at him added another layer of tension between the unspeaking duo, making the girl rise quickly from his bed after a few short moments.

“Well, I should head back,” she said.

“Right,” Archie replied quickly with a nod of his head.

“Big day tomorrow,” she fumbled nervously, “and then school Monday.”

“Yeah, of course,” he cleared his throat, standing up as well and towering over the girl.

She tilted her chin up to get a good look in his eyes, giving a short smile before nudging him gently with her shoulder so that she could get past. Archie turned his frame out to watch her walk away, his hands falling by his sides. She stopped a mere foot away from him, though, and turned back slowly to give him this pleading kind of look. He was wearing the same one.

“Is it--” she started nervously, letting out a stupid short sigh and closing her eyes, “is it okay if I hug you?”

When she opened her eyes he was smiling sheepishly, “um--”

“It’s okay if not,” she clarified, waving her hands forward, “in fact, no, nevermind. I’ll just go.”

She was halfway gone, waddling backwards out of his room when he stopped her.

Archie’s lips split, and he did that little tick where he ran his tongue over his canines with a grin, “it’s just, I uh, I smell.”

She stopped, feet freezing and nostrils flaring as she suppressed the instant urge to laugh, which failed.

“You smell?” she snorted.

“Stop,” Archie complained, his face glowering with embarrassment, “it was hot and we were outside and moving stuff--”

“Archie Andrews,” she laughed, “you really think I give a shit?”

His words stopped, and he crinkled his nose and scratched at his head, “Well Ronnie doesn't kiss me sometimes because I’m sweaty.”

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, pressing her tongue to her cheek and waiting in silence for him to figure out his own logic. She could tell by the drooping of his lips and posture that he’d gotten it. He pressed his lips together, nodding weakly.

“Yes,” he mumbled, “then yes. I would like that.”

He was so damn frustratingly adorable about it that her heart found itself once again rolling at the sight of the boy. Yes I would like that. What kind of cute shit was that? And now both of them just stood there like statues, neither knowing who was going to move first. So, after some thought, they met each other halfway, both moving kind of quickly to collide in the middle, like the faster they got there the sooner the tension would break. Archie crashed into the girl’s front, bringing his arms around her waist as she flung hers around his neck. The strength in his arms brought the girl off her feet and onto her tippy toes as she placed her nose into the crook of Archie’s neck. It was warm there, and sure enough smelled faintly of sun and sweat, reminding her of their many hugs from when they were preteens, most of which were therefore sweaty on both sides. In fact, the feeling, the overall feeling that came with their body placements and the sense of comfort that came with it, was unsettlingly familiar. Archie had always been taller than her, so he’d always held her like that so he could reach her better, he’d always lifted his chin so she could nuzzle into him whilst he rested his chin atop of her head, and he’d always given her a little squeeze of reassurance around the waist, like he was checking she was still there. He did all of those things now. And it was a feeling that she’d completely forgotten, but now, recreating it years later, sent the floor spinning beneath her feet. She desperately wanted to stay there, to move her hands to his hair, brush her thumb against his neck, anything, but she didn’t. Instead she took one final inhale, her eyes fluttering open as she dropped back down to the balls of her feet, watching as Archie opened his own eyes. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, so she told herself that the sort of enthralled expression he wore was mere coincidence and not his own internal revelation.

Having no clue what else to say given the obvious unease, she just said, “see you Monday,” and scampered off.

And that was it.

. . .

When the girl arrived home a short minute later, her mother had turned the lights off and headed to bed. It was so dark that the girl would’ve missed the piece of paper under her feet, if not for feeling it slide between her muddy white shoes and the porch. She bent over and picked it up with confusion, squinting as she looked down at the paper, where something was scrawled in messy handwriting. Soon after she felt her heart drop.

Your father was just the first.

Her blood rushed to her ears, heart so loud she could hear it. The girl gaped and whizzed around, staring into the empty streets to see no one and nothing at all. Her hands shook, fingers trembling as she crushed the paper between them and bolted inside, throwing the door closed behind her with a slam.

#archie andrews x reader #archie andrews fic #archie x reader #riverdale x reader #archie andrews #riverdale fanfic #archie andrews gif #riverdale imagine #riverdale fic #archie andrews imagine #archie andrews imagines #archie andrews fanfiction #fanfiction #riverdale imagines #archie x y/n #riverdale one shot #kj apa x reader #writing

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hiddendreamer67 · 4 years

Text

Tears of Fear- The Witcher

Summary: Geralt wakes up to Jaskier crying over his ‘corpse’ and realizes Jaskier is afraid of him.

Word count: 2,102

Had a lot of fun with this, it’s actually my first witcher fic! Feel free to send in more prompts from my bingo card below! Also check out my writing blog @hiddendreamerwriting for more of my work!

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Jaskier was crying.

This was the first thing Geralt processed as he slowly began to wake up from his restless slumber. He was sobbing like a babe, making Geralt cringe as he heard the bard all but wipe his nose on Geralt’s shoulder.

Quickly Geralt became aware of a few other important factors, grimacing through the spike of pain that came rushing back to him. His ribs were definitely cracked, he could feel them slowly melding together beneath his chest. Geralt’s leg was on fire, bent at an angle no human- or witcher- bones should bend. His abdomen felt torn to shreds, and if he looked down Geralt was sure his innards were being exposed to the outside world.

There was a pounding in his skull, a side effect of bashing his skull against a rock, if he recalled correctly. Being used as a ragdoll by a Griffin was not an experience he hoped to encounter again. Had he killed it? He hoped he killed it, for the sake of not doing this twice.

Taking another assessment of his wounds, Geralt knew they would be fatal for a mortal man. Overkill, really; but he’d live. Maybe.

“Fuck.” Geralt hissed, and all of a sudden Jaskier gave a shriek right in his ear, quickly scurrying back from Geralt’s form.

And this was when Geralt realized a third important piece of information: Geralt took in a big whiff of air, recognizing a scent that had been present ever since he woke up.

Jaskier was afraid.

In all the years they had travelled together, Jaskier had never once shown fear towards Geralt- and now, the man reeked of it. It was the witcher’s fault, he assumed. He had let the bard get too close. Seeing Geralt in the throes of a proper battle, seeing the witcher in his primal beast mode as he threw himself and the griffin off the cliff, it had awoken that self-preservation instinct in Jaskier. Finally, Jaskier recognized he was a monster.

“Melitele’s tits, what the fuck?!” Jaskier shrieked again, clawing briefly at the tree behind him to gain distance before seeming to get a grip. He clutched at his heart, which Geralt could hear beating far too rapidly. “I- you- how the fuck- I thought you were dead!”

“Not… yet.” Geralt grit his teeth, growling to get through the pain. “Potion bag. Blue.”

Thankfully, even in his fearful state Jaskier seemed to take some form of pity on him. That, or Jaskier was too frightened to not do as the witcher said. The second was more likely as Jaskier quickly dug through the bag, grabbing the potion and pouring it into Geralt’s mouth with trembling hands.

Geralt grunts his appreciation, feeling the potion take effect. It wasn’t playing nice with the potion already in his system, but Geralt would survive.

“You- you’re okay now, right?” Jaskier cursed under his breath, his tears welling up again. “Of course you’re bloody not, look at you! Why your intestines are all dangling, are they supposed to- oh gods, I’m gonna be sick.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt murmurs, closing his eyes.

“What can I do, Geralt?” Jaskier’s hand is hovering just above his shoulder, touching it briefly as if afraid now to even make contact with such a demon. “I’m no healer, you have to tell me what you need. Another potion? One of the glowy ones?”

“Jaskier.” Geralt repeats, feeling his body drifting back into unconsciousness. “Shut up.”

---

The next time Geralt wakes up, Jaskier is crying again.

This time not on him, thankfully. Instead he’s sniveling to himself across the clearing, head tucked between his knees. Geralt isn’t certain how long he’s been out, but before it was just past dusk and now only the faintest bit of moonlight trickles through the trees, indicating it’s well indo the night. Perhaps he had been unconscious an entire day.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls, startling the bard into looking his way. That scent of fear is still there.

“Y-yes?” Jaskier hurries to make himself presentable, trying to peer through the darkness. He isn’t gifted with the same night vision Geralt has.

“Potion.” Geralt manages to spit the word out without sounding pathetic, so that’s a bonus. The only reason he’s awake now is yet another burst of pain, a clear sign the last potion wore off. He’s not feeling great about relying on intimidating his best friend to get him through the night.

“Right, right, yes, of course.” Jaskier stumbles to his feet, feeling around cautiously for the potions bag. “Yes, that would- that makes sense, right? You just need these and you’ll… oh shit, I can’t make out the shades in this light. Can you? Is this the right one?”

Jaskier trods over, placing one uncomfortably close to Geralt’s eyeball. He grunts.

“Geralt, in life or death situations you really need to use your words-”

“Yes.” Geralt huffs.

Jaskier sighs, pulling the cork and easing the mixture into Geralt’s mouth as he continues to ramble. “So, you’re going to be alright? Just a few of these to fix you right up? I hope. I didn’t check, didn’t want to… well forgive me for not wanting to see, you’re quite a sight Geralt.”

“Hmm.” Geralt thought that was putting it lightly. He had been run out of towns for less.

“Are you going to… need more of these?” Jaskier asked, his scent spiking as he peered into the potions bag. “I don’t- if you tell me what to gather, I can try, but I’m not certain what it is you witchers put in these. Nearest town is a day’s ride, but I doubt roach will let me leave your side, and of course I’m not eager either-”

Geralt didn’t reply. Before Jaskier had finished his sentence, he had passed out once more.

---

The third time Geralt woke, Jaskier wasn’t crying.

The sun was high in the sky, illuminating the bard who was sitting against a tree, strumming a tuneless chord that was far from cheerful. That bitter scent of fear lingered in the air. Regardless, Jaskier met Geralt’s gaze, giving the witcher a pitiful smile.

“You’re awake.” Jaskier stood up, setting his lute to the side. “Again. Not sure if you’ll even remember all this when you fully wake up. Potion, I assume?”

“Mmm.” Geralt made a noise of agreement, reassessing his wounds. He still felt like shit, but if he was willing to put up with a whole lot of pain Geralt could stand. He could take care of himself.

“Right then, here you are.” Jaskier was at his side in moments, pouring the potion down his throat. “That’s it, nice and easy. Wonder what this stuff tastes like, anyhow- for your sake I hope it’s blueberry or something.”

Geralt didn’t bother giving that a response, swallowing down the last of it. He could feel it taking hold, easing his mangled body back together like the mutated atrocity it was.

“Well, nighty night, dear witcher.” Jaskier sighed.

Geralt looked at the bard. The man looked pale, clearly lacking proper sleep. It was clear he had been neglecting himself in favor of staying at Geralt’s side, frightened of what might happen if Geralt woke up alone.

“Jaskier.” Geralt caught the bard’s attention. “I’m fine.”

Jaskier spared a glance at the rest of Geralt’s body, grimacing. “Well you and I have different definitions of fine, I can tell you that. Your witcher drugs seem to be helping, i’ll be the first to admit, but I can assure you that is not how a man’s stomach should look-”

“I’ll heal.” Geralt cut him off. “I can manage. You’re free to leave.”

Jaskier shook his head. “Geralt, my dear, it is becoming increasingly obvious you have suffered brain damage.” Jaskier assured him, brushing the hair out of Geralt’s face. “No doubt about it, you’re as loony as a duck.”

Geralt gritted his teeth. “I’m of perfectly sound mind.”

“Oh really?” Jaskier’s dramatic attitude made it clear he wasn’t believing a word. “Because ‘perfectly sound’ individuals don’t ask to be abandoned in the woods with fatal injuries. Perhaps if there were a danger about - which would be very valiant and very stupid of you, I must add- , but the only danger here is the rotting corpse of a griffin you conquered several days ago. Which stinks, by the way.”

“There’s no reason for you to stay.” Geralt insisted, and Jaskier looked as though he’d been slapped across the face.

“No- no reason?!” Jaskier sputtered. “I thought after all these years you’d have a bit of faith in your best friend! The bar’s a lot lower than I thought if- if leaving your friend to die is acceptable behavior to you. Gods, I’m glad i’m not the one injured-”

“Shut UP, Jaskier!” Geralt all but roars, and it’s a testament to Jaskier’s bravery that the call of a monster doesn’t increase the smell of his fear. Jaskier isn’t getting it. He refuses to understand. Why must he make Geralt spell out the painful truth?

“...I know you want to leave.” Geralt murmurs. “I won’t hold you here any longer.”

Jaskier pauses, taking a moment to try and read Geralt’s expression. “What in all the glorious fields of the world makes you think I want to leave?”

Geralt grits his teeth. “Because you’re afraid of me.”

It’s quiet just a moment too long.

“What?” Jaskier gives a half laugh, clearly torn between making a joke and treating this seriously. “Geralt, I know you’ve got a lovely head wound, but think about what you’ve said for just a moment. Why would I be following you across half the continent if I was afraid? I’ve had plenty of opportunities to scurry away with my tail between my legs, but no! I treasure your company, bland as it may be at times, and not just for the stories we experience.” Jaskier grimaced, looking at the griffin carcass across the way. “Not that i’m particularly fond of this particular one, I must admit.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Geralt murmurs, perplexed for a moment when he can sense Jaskier isn’t lying. “I can smell it on you.”

“You can- so that’s just a witcher thing, huh? Smelling fear?” Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Every new thing about witchers I learn is so bizarre. Lovely, mind you, but- wow. Alright, fine then. So how long have you been smelling this fear on me? Have I been scurrying after you terrified out of my wits and not even knowing it?”

“No.” Geralt admitted.

“Ha! So you see?” Jaskier looked rather proud of himself. “It mustn’t be fear then, you’ve just caught some part of my natural musk. Er, not that my musk is particularly frightened- you know what I mean. Your witcher senses fail you, my dear fellow.”

“No.” Geralt growled, frustrated. “It was new. Few days ago, after the attack.”

“... oh.” Jaskier froze, a haunted expression taking over his usually cheerful features. The bard took a deep breath, meeting Geralt’s gaze. “Geralt, you wonderful witcher... you are one of the most foolish people on the entire continent.”

Geralt gave a low warning growl.

“I have never, ever been afraid of you, and I never will.” Jaskier insisted, his jaw set in his declaration. “And you know what? Yes, I was very afraid that evening, and every day since. But I was afraid for the same reason I stayed by your unconscious form all these days, and it’s the same reason I cried over what I thought was your corpse. I’m afraid of losing you, Geralt.”

The witcher paused, never expecting such a response.

“I sat by, trying my damndest to nurse you back to health, not knowing what the hell I could even do.” Jaskier had tears once again pooling in the corners of his eyes, but he brushed them away in a hurry. “Each time you went back to your slumber, I didn’t even know if you’d wake again. But each time you were conscious gave me hope, made me realize you were still holding on. I know witchers are hardier than the rest of us, but good lord you really gave fate a run for her money, Geralt!”

“It takes more than that to kill a witcher.” Geralt furrowed his brow, not sure how to deal with this level of concern. He had never had another person so invested in whether or not he died. Even with his fellow witchers, it was always common knowledge that one day they’d die along the Path.

“And I never want to learn exactly how much it takes.” Jaskier shuddered at the thought.

#badthingshappenbingo #the witcher #tears of fear #jaskier #geralt #extreme injuries #don't worry everybody lives here

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ragnarachael · 4 years

Text

Birthday Boy

Pairing: Tony Stark x Parker!Reader

Word Count: 2,358

Summary: You’re Tony’s wake up call on his birthday, and he’s extremely keen on staying in bed all day if it means he’s with you.

Author’s Ramblings: before i’m asked: this certainly is part of the PTSHAH series! have some established relationship but pre-marriage content!! if.. if tumblr flags this i will not be shocked at all (also i didn’t make it descriptive as i wanted to mainly because i’ve been writing this all morning and if i keep going i WILL make it at least 4.5k,, i said this would be a quick little piece and i’m here with almost 2.5K WORDS)

Warnings: SMUT! 18+! BIRTHDAY SEX! UNPROTECTED SEX (PLEASE WRAP BEFORE YOU TAP)! FINGERING! DIRTY TALK (??? KINDA I DIDN’T GO TOO HARDCORE I WROTE THIS FROM 8 TO 10 IN THE MORNING OKAY)

MASTERLIST ! FEEDBACK ! AO3 LINK

"Mr. Stark,” you purred quietly as you draped yourself over Tony’s body under the covers of his bed. “Wakey wakey.”

Tony would usually wake up instantly when he heard you speak like that and happily take advantage of the sweet, sweet free time you had together in the mornings before having to be responsible adults and go to work.

However, you wore him out last night thoroughly. He didn’t even know how that was possible, since it was usually the other way around.

But he didn’t mind.

Your lips were pressing against the skin of his neck as he finally let out a low sleepy hum to acknowledge you.

“Ms. Parker, what a pleasant surprise,” he mumbled, a hand finding a spot on your bare back. You couldn’t help but giggle, pulling your face from his neck to look fondly at his sleep ridden face.

“Good morning.”

“It certainly is now,” Tony quipped as his eyes cracked open to drink in your face that was washed with the rising sun that was coming from the window that was partially covered by the curtain.

You looked like an angel. Tony doesn’t think this morning could get any better. He didn’t want to tear his face away from yours as the light sharpened some of your features. Your eyes seemed even brighter in this moment. Your hair was one of the few things that showed what you had gotten up to with him last night and to him you seemed even more beautiful.

“Tony,” you said gently, letting out a soft laugh, “did you fall asleep with your eyes open again or what?”

Tony didn’t reply. He just blinked. That caused you to laugh again before you shifted to sit up, trying to keep the covers on so you didn’t expose your body to the cold.

“Or what, I take it,” you mused, an arm holding the blanket to your chest. “I get that you’re half asleep, babe. But usually you’re way more mouthy.”

Tony’s hands were quick to find their way to your waist before tugging you on top of him so you could straddle his hips. “I can easily change that for you if you’d like, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter from his sudden change of demeanor and tried to untwist the blanket you had a death grip on. Tony wanted you to drop it and have you exposed to him in the morning light so he could short circuit from your beauty again.

“No,” you said sternly, starting to lean forward so your body and face were hovering over his own. “I’m supposed to be treating you today, genius.”

Tony let one hand stay on your lower back while the other trailed up the length of your body to rest on the back of your neck.

“Yeah? Why’s that, beautiful?”

“Oh don’t play that card,” you chastised fondly, quickly pressing your soft—painfully soft lips after the night the two of you just shared—lips to his as he hummed out a question.

Tony was going to pull away, he really was. But your lips were far too good to part from. He tried to hold you in place without even thinking about it, the hand on your neck almost effectively keeping you from pulling away from his lips.

Almost.

You pulled away, your lips barely touching his as you spoke out breathlessly, “you know exactly what day it is.”

He let out a huff, keeping his eyes shut as he let his fingers dig slightly into your lower back. Tony was trying to go through his mental calendar in this moment to try and prove that he did in fact know what today was.

But he couldn’t think properly thanks to your kisses starting to pull him from his thoughts. Your lips started sucking and nipping at spots you had missed on his neck last night.

All thoughts were turning to you, and how you looked underneath him last night. How he spread you open as long as he wanted, not at all hesitating to tease you until you were begging for his cock.

And needless to say: he was already getting hard just thinking about it all over again.

“No, I don’t think I do.” He felt your laughter on his skin and couldn’t help but let a smile grow on his face. “What’s today?”

You stopped nipping at the skin on his collar bone, letting out a quiet huff as you unintentionally rolled your ass against his hard cock, trying not to freeze up and let out a moan.

“May 29th.”

“Oh,” Tony said evenly. As if that was exciting, he thought as he started to sit up, both arms wrapping around your middle tightly before he was positioning himself to lean against the headboard of his bed. He didn’t hesitate to pick you up slightly as he moved, which caused you to gasp before he placed you quite literally on his cock.

Tony Stark was never subtle.

You let out a shy laugh as you felt the head of his cock throb as your clit bumped against it, trying to sit comfortably in Tony’s lap while he watched you basically grind your pussy on the shaft of his cock.

If he was trying to hold back a moan, he was doing it better than you were. He could easily feel how wet you were when you finally settled on a position, your breathing a little sharper now.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Was last night one of my gifts, baby girl?” He questioned evenly, almost as if he wasn’t trying to gyrate his hips to keep grinding his cock between your outer lips, gently tugging at the blanket you were barely holding onto anymore. “Or were you just craving my cock?”

Tony’s words had you biting at your inner cheek as you finally let the blanket fall to reveal your chest to him. His eyes seemed to darken with even more lust in that moment as they landed on your breasts that were starting to stand at attention from the cool morning air.

“You can speak up, princess,” Tony said, letting his eyes catch yours as he looked up at you. He didn’t hesitate to unwrap his arms from you to let his hands cup the rapidly cooling flesh in his hands as he spoke, bucking his hips up, “I won’t judge you.”

You let out a groan as his calloused fingers started to lightly trail over your nipples, feeling another wave of heat go right to your core.

“Yes,” you started breathlessly, starting to feel confident enough to drag your pussy lips over Tony’s cock yourself so you could keep your word from earlier and do all the work. “I couldn’t wait to have your cock, sir.”

Tony’s smile formed into a smirk as he moved one arm to go back around your stomach, pulling your chest closer so he was eye level with your breasts, his other hand slipping down your stomach to stop just shy at the apex of your thighs.

You waited for him to say something. He could do anything to you in this moment, and you’d die a happy woman.

“Please fuck me, Tony,” you whispered hotly as you tried to move in his grip to get some kind of friction anywhere you could get it. Tony didn’t wait as long as you thought he would when you asked kindly.

His fingers found your clit at the same time as his lips started to kiss between the valley of your breasts. Your gasp was loud as your hands found their rightful places on his shoulders as he continued to kiss the underside of your right breast as his skilled fingers circled your clit for a few more moments before deciding to insert two fingers into you.

“How’re you so tight after last night?” Tony mused as his fingers curled at the one spot that had you chanting his name like a prayer, even if he was pumping them in at a slower pace than he usually sets. “I might have to remedy that, won’t I, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” you heaved before letting out a moan and trying to time your hips with his thrusts as his lips finally enveloped your right nipple with the heat of his mouth.

You could feel your tummy tightening with the familiar sensation of your orgasm creeping up as Tony kept working his magic with his mouth and fingers.

Until he stopped all together.

“You’re practically dripping, baby,” Tony said, letting his fingers run along your seam as you felt your orgasm edge away. Your hips twitched as you whined, trying to move only to have Tony’s grip tighten.

“Ah, ah,” Tony tutted, his fingers moving away from your cunt only to let his free hand grab at one of your asscheeks, “no moving, sweets. You’re my gift, ‘member?”

For some reason, that made you shudder as you repositioned your hands to grip at the headboard from your positioning. You’re his gift. His to use. You felt your cunt clench as you thought of that.

“You like the thought of that, don’t you? Dirty girl,” he said wickedly as his hand that was gripping your flesh moving to slip between the two of you to grip his throbbing cock and circle your cilt with the head.

“Your cunt already misses my cock already, huh?”

You were practically aching to get some relief. Tony had a way with words, and you never wanted to admit it to him, but god damn you’re sure you could probably cum from his words alone if he really put his mind to it.

“Please, please, Tony,” you babbled, leaning heavily into his grip on you as you tried to shift your hips so the head of his cock could at the very least slip past your hole, “fuck me. I’m.. I’m yours for the day, I cleared our sch-schedules just... fuck me.”

“How could you clear our schedules if you’ve been in bed with me all morning?” Tony questioned suddenly. He was using this to distract you as he let his hand slowly guide his cock where you needed him most. You let out a frustrated groan, throwing your head back with your eyes squeezed shut.

He also took this moment to see just how the light was hitting your naked body, and it was just as ethereal as he thought it would be earlier. It only made him want you even more.

“Y-Yesterday I talked with Pepper and she gave the okay,” you explained quickly, letting your head fall forwards to crack your eyes open. “Now please shove your cock in me before I do it myself.”

“Well when you put it like that, baby girl,” Tony started deviously, happily lowering you on the blunt head of his cock just as you started to muster up the courage to mouth off again.

Any words you aimed to say were washed away with the loud moan you let out as Tony’s cock split you open for the second time in 24 hours. The stretch wasn’t painful—lord no. It was so, so good. The stretch was delicious and you never, ever will get tired of feeling it every time Tony drives his cock into you.

Tony and you let out pleased groans simultaneously when he was buried deep, deep inside your cunt. You don’t know why you didn’t just sit on his cock for hours when you’re both lounging around in his penthouse. You felt complete like this.

Tony was muttering to himself as he glanced down where the two of you were joined, taking in the sight of his cock stretching you open as your walls flexed around him.

“What, baby?” You asked softly, your breathing somewhat regulated as you felt his arm finally unravel from your middle to let his hands rest on both sides of your hips, rubbing at the skin with his thumbs as you noticed his index and middle finger still slick with your arousal.

“Happy birthday to me,” he repeated with a smug smile, bringing his heated gaze up to yours before pressing his lips to yours as he started to thrust up into you.

You knew you were close after Tony thrusted into you for the third time. But it didn’t make you any less shocked as you let out a particularly loud moan as his one of his hands found their place back on your clit, rubbing in tight circles.

Your pussy was gripping his cock like a vise at this point; you were sure Tony was going to cum soon.

But he didn’t.

Even as you moved your hands from the headboard to start tugging at Tony’s hair while his mouth went back to devouring your breasts, both of you working your hips in unison as you toppled over into your first orgasm for the morning.

You came with a shout of Tony’s name as everything tightened, slowing your bouncing on his lap considerably to ride out the pleasure that was taking over your body.

Tony’s hips eased considerably while his fingers came to a halt on your clit, the both of you letting out soft laughter from the bliss radiating off of your body.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Tony questioned suddenly as you sat snug in his lap, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat as you regulate your breathing, your hands coming forward to cup Tony’s face between them.

“You have, but I don’t mind hearing it again and again,” you responded, grinning widely before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Now, are you going to sit here and keep pleasuring me or am I allowed to pleasure you?”

Tony had a smile almost as bright as the morning sun as he shifted his hips suddenly, causing you to moan lowly.

“If you get on your hands and knees and let me make you cum a few more times, I’ll happily let you do all the work.”

Well... who were you to say no to a deal from the birthday boy?

#nsft text #tony stark x reader #tony stark x parker!reader #tony stark smut #marvel smut #marvel imagine #marvel writer #marvel fanfiction #tony stark imagine #tony stark drabble #tony stark #mcu imagine #mcu smut #mcu #mcu writing #rachael writes #pttshah

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ao3porcelainstorm · 3 years

Text

poison ivy & stinging nettles 1

'A Case of Poison Ivy and Stinging Nettles'

“Very original title, John,” Sherlock snorted. John glared up at his friend, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

"The whole case was about betrayal, plants, and pharmaceuticals," he shot back. "It's a clever title." "What about chemistry? There was plenty of chemistry." "Our client was a botanist," John rolled his eyes and continued typing at the laptop. "Don't worry, there's plenty of mention of your glorious prowess with chemical reactions."

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 2

Chapter 1- Amelia

~~~

Unlike most cases on this blog, Sherlock and I stumbled into this one quite accidentally.

Sherlock had made Mrs. Hudson upset, and when I revealed that it was her birthday, I quickly ushered him to the nearest florist.

That was where we met Amelia Brenner, the first person I'd ever known that spoke the language of the flowers fluently.

~~~

Amelia Brenner disliked the rain that so often plagued London. If she had a choice in the matter, she would have been back home, probably sunbathing on the rooftop of her Brooklyn apartment. Unfortunately, life had a cruel sense of humor, and that led to Amelia's present circumstances.

She often lamented that she was the one being punished for having done right by society, but the brief periods of sunshine that occasionally peaked through the London skyline, reminded her that this wasn't the all terrible exile she'd convinced herself it was.

Today, was one of those rare, beautiful, days.

And there were two grown men in the front of her flower shop bickering over which flowers they needed to purchase to appease their landlady.

“Roses are safe,” she suggested, eyes trailing to the clear sky outside longingly. “Red and yellow are happiness and excitement. Just yellow mean friendship.”

“I didn't realize flowers had their own language,” the shorter gentleman turned around with a nervous chuckle. He looked out of place, and clearly overwhelmed, but no so much as the dark-hair man beside him.

“Perfect, that'll do,” the second man shot in, visibly annoyed at the entire situation.

Amelia was just as eager to get the men out of her shop, and quickly moved to the side of the shop where she stored her roses in a refrigerator.

“Shouldn't we get her something more meaningful?” the shorter man asked, as Amelia's fingers nearly touch the stem of the yellow roses. She froze, throwing on a bright smile and turning around.

“Do you know what her favorite flowers are? We could add them to the rose bouquet,” she suggested, a passing child and their laughing friends running by with ice cream reminded her of her urgency to close up early for the day.

“God if I know,” the brunette shrugged impatiently. “John, you remember pointless things like that. Why don't you know?”

“You've known her longer, Sherlock,” the blonde, John, shot back. “Not once, have you gotten her a birthday present?”

“It didn't seem important,” he muttered, turning his attention to the numerous displays sitting in the shop window.

“I'm sorry, my friend is a bit difficult when it comes to any semblance of intimacy or emotional attachment,” John shot his turned away friend a scowl before approaching Amelia. “Are there any flowers that mean, 'beloved friend', or something similar?”

Amelia paused, half-tempted to just grab the yellow roses, but John seemed earnest in his request, despite the difficult behavior his friend was displaying.

“You know what...” Amelia moved toward a different section of the store where she had various flowers set in plastic vases for “do-it-yourself” bouquets. “Tell me about your landlady.”

“She's an older woman,” John started, hesitating slightly. “Very kind. Always has a cup of tea ready for you on a bad day.”

“Nosy, likes invading your personal space,” Sherlock chimed in.

“It's because you do things like shoot bullets through walls,” John reminded him tersely. “She gets concerned.”

Amelia plucked a few coreopsis, orange geraniums, and a large sunflower. Grabbing a few sprigs of sage and some Queen Anne's lace for accents, she moved to the main counter and dug through her drawers for a crystal vase she'd seen laying around.

It didn't take long for her to take the random assortment of flowers and turn them into a gorgeous display of yellows and orange. The white accents of the lace, pulled the whole thing together in a practical, tasteful way.

“What do they all mean?” John asked, glancing up from the card Amelia had given him to fill out and attach to the bouquet.

“Queen Anne's lace means sanctuary,” Amelia lightly touched the small white flowers. “A short sunflower means adoration, geraniums mean true friendship, sage means wisdom, and corepsis mean always cheerful.”

“That's perfect,” John practically beamed up at her, signing both his and Sherlock's name to the bottom of the card.

Amelia rang up his purchase, giving the men a small discount because she felt a little bad about their circumstances. Especially, once John went into more detail about exactly what it was his friend had done (something about a snippy comment about the woman's sweater).

“You said a short sunflower means adoration, what does a tall one mean?” Sherlock spoke up, looking quite uncomfortable as John shoved the vase into his hands.

Amelia had to bite her bottom lip to keep down the giggle that wanted to erupt with her response. She swallowed it down, turning it into a cough before coolly responding.

“Haughtiness.”

John snorted a laugh and ushered Sherlock out of the store before the taller man could make a comment. He thanked Amelia again over his shoulder and was gone in a flash.

Amelia quickly ran to the front door, flipping over the open sign to “closed”, and locked it in place. She looked at her watch and calculated she had about three hours until the sun began to set, giving her plenty of time to sit in the green house she'd constructed on the roof, and take in a bit of the sunshine with her plants.

She tided up the shop, humming an excited tune under her breath while she cashed out the register and wiped down the counters. All was going smoothly until a very urgent visitor began pounding at her front door.

Thinking she'd forgotten an order, or perhaps John or Sherlock had dropped something, she unlocked the door and swung it open.

What Amelia hadn't anticipated was the front end of a pistol to bed shoved into her chest and a group of three men to storm into her tiny space.

The last man in quickly closed the door behind him, while the other two started pulling down blinds, the gun still trained on a stunned Amelia.

“Can I help you?” she stammered, her hands up in defense, trying to think of an escape plan through the fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. The backdoor was too far. There weren't any nearby windows.

She was stuck.

One of the men kicked down a display. Gerbera daisies scattered across the floor in a splash of color that the man quickly stepped on, and twisted his foot. He chuckled at Amelia's face, distorted in distress at the careless handling of the flowers she'd dedicated her free time to.

“The data set,” the man with the gun snarled. Amelia noticed he was missing a front tooth, and that had distracted her considerably. He fired a bullet near her feet, repeating his question.

“I have no idea what that means,” she whimpered in response. The men were working their way around the shop, kicking over display, stomping on flowers, and pouring lighter fluid over their destroyed remains.

“Don't play dumb sweetheart, it's not a good look,” he stepped closer, pressing the tip of the weapon into her cheek. “The data set with the clinical trial results. A mutual friend wants it back.”

Amelia continued feigning ignorance, despite knowing precisely what data set he was referring to. It was safely tucked away in a deposit box, across town, under an assumed name.

“I just deal in flowers,” she insisted, a small sob pulling from her chest as they continued to demolished her little shop. “If you look to the bottom of your boots, that's the pretty stuff you're destroying.”

“Don't get cheeky with me,” the man with the gun snapped back. "An American in London, setting up shop just after the biggest data breach in Chemco's history..."

“And what are you going to do about it? Shoot me?” Amelia regretted the words the instant they left her mouth. The small wave of confidence immediately fading while he moved forward. He pulled his hand back and hit her across the face with the end of his weapon.

“Am I interrupting something?” a voice asked, just familiar enough where Amelia caught her breath when she identified the source.

The king of sunflowers himself, standing in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest.

Sherlock Holmes.

“You'd be wise to turn around and pretend you haven't seen a thing,” the man with the gun aimed it toward Sherlock with a wicked grin. “This doesn't have to involve you.”

“I see,” he hummed, his eyes trailing over the scene, falling on Amelia and what she assumed was a large bruise forming under her eye. “Unfortunately, I left my mobile at the register, so if someone would be so inclined?”

The man closest to Amelia threw an elbow in her side, shoving her toward the register.

“Go on then,” he hissed, his weapon still aimed at the newcomer.

Amelia practically jumped at the touch, slowly edging her way toward the register. There was no cell phone left behind. No one had time to ask questions, because during the lull in the room, Sherlock moved.

With a crack, he smashed a large vase over the man with the gun. The goon collapsed on the floor with a grunt, the other two men moving into action with swinging fists.

Sherlock dodged the attacks, throwing one man into the counter top and knocking the other to the floor unconscious with a swift punch.

He looked up at Amelia, brow arched in question.

“Why does it smell like petrol?” he asked, an instant before one of the men tossed a lighter across the floor to Amelia's destroyed daisies.

Amelia bounded across the space in a flurry, catching him by the waist, and tackling him through the shop's open door to the busy street outside. She rolled across the ground, only being caught by the shoulder before hitting the curb.

It didn't take long for the shop to erupt into flames, the lighter fluid speeding up the consumption which the plants happily provided.

Dazed, Amelia and Sherlock gaped from outside as smoke billowed from the building.

Pedestrians screamed or stopped to get a better look. Somewhere in her muddled mind, Amelia heard someone calling the fire department.

“There's a green house on the roof,” Sherlock murmured. “Do you have fertilizer in the building?”

She sure did. Right by the register and tucked away in the workroom. She was going to bring it up that day.

Amelia's eyes widened at the realization, and it didn't take her new companion long to determine the answer.

Practically lifting her from their position, he dragged her stumbling across the street just as the first explosion sounded through the block, sending glass shattering across the area.

Dropping to the ground, covered in soot, small cuts, and dirt, Amelia looked to him and sighed.

“Thanks,” she said, resting her head against the brick building they ended on, and watching what little happiness she'd obtained burn to the ground. Go figure.

Fire sirens wailed through the block, firemen ushered passerby's out of the way, and before long, Sherlock and Amelia were scooped up by EMTs.

When she was patched up, an officer took her to Scotland Yard for a statement.

Amelia told the officers investigating that it had been a robbery gone wrong. No, she didn't know why they wanted to destroy her shop. She grew daisies and wrapped roses, why would she understand why they threw lighter fluid around the place? Of course it was reasonable that fertilizer was in a flower shop. She grew her own flowers after all.

Eventually, she was released from Scotland Yard, exhausted from the day, but with no where to go, considering her apartment was above the shop.

She had money in the bank, but her debit card and ID had been under the register when the shop caught fire. It was going to take some time before she could get what she needed to book out a hotel room. One of the officers had given her an address to a hostel they recommended to fire victims until things were settled, but the idea of something so public made Amelia nervous. She already wasn't thrilled that the news had covered the fire.

“Why lie to the police?” a baritone voice asked over her shoulder. Amelia nearly jumped out of her skin at the presence, whipping her head around and finding Sherlock standing a few meters away.

“Excuse me?” Amelia wasn't sure if she'd heard him correctly, her mind numb and tired from the days events. She just wanted a shower and a fresh change of clothes, not the second degree from this vigilante ninja detective.

“You lied to the police, you said it was a robbery,” he repeated, taking a few steps toward her, his blue eyes skimming over her face. “You're a bad liar, and that obviously wasn't a normal robbery. They were looking for something specific.”

Amelia had over heard some of the officers at the station talking about Sherlock when she revealed he had been the one who had saved her. When she asked the officer taking her statement, he just shrugged and said that he was a consultant to the Yard, but others certainly had stronger feelings about the subject.

Amelia looked around the street, largely empty aside from a few taxis and a couple walking along the sidewalk across the road.

“Fine, I'll bite,” she replied. “I'm in possession of some important research regarding a drug that's about to be finalized by the FDA and the NHS.”

“I'd venture to guess this research isn't beneficial to the company?” he asked.

“They blew up my shop and pistol whipped me,” Amelia laughed bitterly, her hand moving to touch the swollen spot on her face. “It certainly isn't rainbows and sunshine cures.”

He paused, considering her words before speaking again.

“Do you know who sent the men?” he asked, and Amelia shrugged, exhaustion continuing to creep over her. She still smelled like smoke and gasoline, her arms and clothes still ripped and black. Not that she could do anything about it.

“I'm assuming the CEO,” Amelia replied, a hint of irritation was rising in her voice as she realized how hopeless her night was going to be.

“And why would a CEO become personally involved in a bad publicity matter?” he inquired. It was a reasonable question, and Amelia might have avoided specifics but she was in no mood to play games, and it seemed this guy was going to get his answers eventually. Besides, she owed him some explanation for saving her life.

“Because she's my mother.”

Chapter 2

#sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #sherlock/ofc #sherlock original female character #sherlock/oc #john watson #fanfiction #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock/reader #watson

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howrry · 5 years

Text

hot yoga

a/n: this is one of my favorite things to write, idk why. i just love roommate slash best friend h, i guess. anyways, he walks in on you masturbating and basically loses his goddamn mind over the course of one (1) week. bon appetit!

warnings: smuttyyyyy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

w/c: 3.9k

***

THURSDAY

Harry didn't really take Y/N to be the type to masturbate during the day.

Not that he necessarily thought of his roommate masturbating at all. It's just... so risky for his normally tame best friend. So imagine the shock on his face when he came home early from work to hear her softly moaning in her room.

Honestly, at first, he thought she had a guy over. Of course, that didn't really explain why he still nosed in anyways. The two of them were quite close, but not close enough to openly talk about their sex lives. Harry assumed it was because she didn't date much and, out of respect, decided to keep his mouth shut about his own goings-on.

So maybe, then, it was out of disbelief that she would actually be getting anythat he slowly trudged up the stairs to her room in their shared house. As he approached her door, her noises got clearer and he could even hear her gasping for air.

Christ, he thought to himself. Who could be that good? Her door was cracked open just a bit, enough for Harry to peer through the gap and see her in bed... minus anyone else.

She laid in bed in her underwear, and he could see she'd tossed her clothes onto the floor haphazardly. One hand dipped into her panties and he could clearly see that she had her fingers deep inside herself. The other was poking into her bra and pulling at her nipples for more stimulation. In between her continued soft noises, Harry could even hear how wet she was.

It was in this exact moment Harry realized what he was doing. Why was he peeping on his roommate and best friend? Why was it so hard to tear his eyes away? Why was his cock fattening in his pants? Why, pray tell, was he still watching?!

He stumbled back a bit, trying to stay quiet, but the floorboard creaked. The door wasn't wide enough for her to see anything outside, but he figured his cover was blown since she suddenly silenced.

Nevertheless, he creeped back downstairs soundlessly, made himself a cup of tea, and decided to take the best route he could think of—pretend he didn't see any of that. Easy.

He hoped.

About twenty minutes later, when his dick was behaving again and he’d cleaned out his tea mug, Y/N hopped downstairs wearing the clothes he'd just seen thrown on the floor.

She acted mildly surprised to see him, making a note of his early arrival home. "We finished up our work for the day and the manager gave us the rest of the day off. Figured I'd come home and have a cuppa," he explained, not looking at her but rather lying on the couch and flipping through channels.

She nodded, hands on her hips and arms pointed back like a chicken. "Good idea. Think I'll go make one m'self," Y/N decided, awkwardly stumbling to the kitchen.

This time, Harry peeked a glimpse at her. He saw that her cheeks were a bit pink, and he was painfully reminded of what she was just doing. His filthy mind started to wander and he thought about if she was a full-body blusher. Did her chest brighten up a bit when--

Stop, he urged himself, rubbing his face with his whole hand. What was wrong with him?

Just pretend it didn’t happen, remember? He’ll be fine!

***

SATURDAY

Harry hated the summer.

The man was just not a heat-adapted person. He claimed it was because of his English roots that his body was naturally made for cold weather. Living out in LA made his career and social life much easier, yet the summer months were hell on his body.

He spent this toasty day on the couch with the A/C turned up high and a small fan in his hand while he read in the living room. Y/N read with him, neither of them saying a word to each other. They'd managed to talk a little since, ahem, the incident, but the conversations weren't very lengthy.

Suddenly, Y/N stood up and placed her Sherlock Holmes novel on the arm of her chair, bending the book's spine. She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a green Otterpop. Without saying anything, Y/N picked her book back up and continued reading, enjoying the popsicle.

Harry didn't show it but he’d completely lost interest in his own book; his focus was on her now. She hollowed her cheeks around the treat, audibly sucking out the melting juice. Her lips were so pretty perched around the ice, colored pink by the temperature. He would've thought she was doing it on purpose had she not been so entranced by her reading material; it was like he wasn't even in the room at all. If he kept staring at her, he’d have a full blown hard-on any minute now.

"Can yeh stop?" he blurted, making her head snap up confusedly. He backtracked immediately, realizing he had no reason to say that. It was his fault for being a perv, she was just eating a damn popsicle! "I, uh, I want one and I'm jealous. Do we have any left?"

She nodded with innocent wide eyes, the popsicle still dangling out of her mouth held up only by her teeth. It was a stupid save and she probably saw right through it, but he was glad for the free exit and went to get his own, though he didn’t stop by the living room on his way upstairs.

***

MONDAY

The beginning of the next week had weather that was muchmore bearable, and it'd appeared the heat wave had broken. Harry had no time to appreciate it though, as he had a long and productive day at the studio to end his not-so-relaxing weekend. By the time he got home, the house was empty. He didn’t question this; Y/N tended to be the spontaneous type and could be out with one of her friends.

He busied himself with cooking a small bachelor dinner. After he’d finished his meal and the post-eating doze was just about to lull him to sleep in the living room, the sound of keys in the front door’s lock jerked him awake.

Harry sat up straighter on the couch, waiting until his roommate was safely inside. “Hey, H!” she called. She was only wearing a black sports bra and a pair of peach leggings. Over the course of living with her, Harry had noticed that Y/N’s body tended to soak up sun in these warmer months, evident by her glowy skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Where have yeh been?” he questioned, not bothering with a greeting. He knew his eyes were begging to dart all over her smooth, gleaming body, but he tried his damn best to be subtle.

She snickered, tossing her bag on the love seat across from him. “Good evening to you, too. Valerie and I went to hot yoga.” Y/N dug through her duffel to get her marbled Hydroflask out.

“Hot yoga? What’s tha’?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

“It’s just regular yoga but it’s in a room at 100-something degrees and 40% humidity,” she explained, opening her water bottle and taking a swig. Big droplets leaked out of the sides of her mouth and trailed down her jaw and neck to join the sweat on her skin.

He rolled his eyes, pinching his bottom lip. He was trying not to bite it and figured he’d attempt to be more inconspicuous. “I don’t speak American, how hot is that?”

“It’s hot. And humid,” she huffed. “But it relaxes your muscles so much and makes all your joints pop. It felt so good.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she stretched an arm across her torso, pressing her boobs together. Harry’s mouth popped open and immediately shut. “Actually, there’s one move I want to show you. How’s your back feeling?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Well…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Laying down on this couch isn’t the most comfortable, t’be honest.”

“Great!” Y/N grabbed H’s hand and guided him down to the floor. She hovered behind him as he sat with his legs extended. “Lift this knee,” she ordered, lightly tapping his right thigh.

He obeyed, extremely glad that his pants were thick black sweats. Her chest was brushing against his shoulders as she showed him what to do, and everywhere she touched him felt like it was on fire. He could only think about dead puppies to calm himself for so long.

“Cross it over the other knee, like you’re in a chair.” It was phrased like she was telling him what to do, but she still grabbed at him to move him into the desired position. She might have been a bit rough on him, though, and nearly crushed his family jewels between his legs.

“Whoa, easy, love,” he groaned, stopping her from man-handling him any further. “Some of us are a bit more delicate down there.” Y/N giggled, and Harry carefully crossed his leg over while remaining painfully conscious of her presence behind him.

“Now take your left elbow and put it on your lifted knee to twist as far as you can. Your back will sound like someone shuffling a deck of cards.” She put two hands on his shoulders to help him with the motion, and she was right. The stretch sent relief flooding through Harry’s body and the noises he made were borderline pornographic. “Feels good, hmm?” she purred into his ear.

He nodded, reveling in the feeling of her breath ghosting over his skin. “Try the other side,” she suggested, standing up and drinking more water.

“You should try going to hot yoga sometime,” she offered as he fully stretched out his spine, grabbing her bag and heading upstairs. “I’m gonna shower real quick. Do me a favor and pour me a rum and Coke?” she called behind her, not bothering to see if he agreed or not.

And Harry would be damned if he didn’t check out her ass in the leggings before getting up to make her a drink.

***

TUESDAY

Some nights are, in general, rougher than others in H's life, and this was one of those nights.

It wasn’t that the day was a complete disaster, it’s just that the studio had kept him much later than he'd anticipated. He was a very tenacious guy, but two long days in a row was just a bit much on his end. As he drove home, all he could think about was pouring himself a glass of MacMurray pinot and having an unwise later-evening nap. He sloppily dug his key into the lock and kicked his shoes off the second he was inside.

As he wandered through the halls of his house, he yanked out his headphones to reveal his roommate's voice coming from the kitchen. Given that it wasn't accompanied by another voice, he assumed she was on the phone.

Sure enough, he poked his head into the kitchen to see Y/N with her phone cradled between her shoulder and her cheek. She was making dinner while talking and didn't appear to notice Harry had arrived. He should’ve made his presence known given how this situation usually ended up, but he remained silent.

"You're lucky you have so many hoes, Val," Y/N noted, checking on boiling noodles and stirring them with a purple spoon. "If I'm trying to get fucked, I don't exactly have a lot of options."

At her words, he ducked out of the kitchen and hid in the hallway. Harry could chastise himself for being nosy later—he had to hear this conversation. There was some silence as Val responded before Y/N continued.

"I mean, dating for-real at this age sucks, and one night stands aren't what they used to be. All the attractive guys are cuffed up so now the only people prowling the bar scene are ugly or shit in bed." The two of them laughed. "And there's only so much my own hand can do," they giggled again before dissolving into a conversation about Val's new dog (how fast they were able to switch topics is beyond his grasp).

Harry took this as a chance to go back upstairs and pretend he never even heard that. Jeez—how many times will he have to remind himself that was the plan? How many times was this going to happen before it stuck? What was with him and barging in on Y/N during intimate moments and conversations?!

***

Harry woke up in the middle of the night with lips pressed against his neck.

At first, he couldn’t tell exactly whose lips were on him, but could tell it was some attractive female and decided to let it continue. He loved when girls spent a lot of time on his neck but didn’t give him love bites. He was so sensitive on his throat and chest that any kissing or sucking would leave him like putty in anyone’s hands. Harry decided to not question this and enjoy the lovely treatment.

The mystery girl did all the things he loved—she brought a hand up to rake through his sweaty curls, the other forced two fingers into his mouth to get them wet, and her kisses left wet patches all over his taut skin. The fingers between his lips dropped down, presumably to touch herself.

Finally, Harry needed to see who was doing all this to him. He lightly tugged the girl off by her hair, only to make eye contact with none other than his roommate Y/N.

“Y/N?!” he blurted. He was in utter shock—not only was he hard as a rock, but one of his closest friends is bare naked in front of him and trying to make out with his neck.

“Don’t think about it, love,” she purred, mocking his accent. Y/N tossed a leg over his body and grinded down onto his cock, kept separate by his boxers and the sheets on his bed. He could practically feel the heat coming off of her, if only it wasn’t for the barriers between them. In fact, the sheets seemed so tight around his legs.

Harry was suddenly washed over with anxiety and thrashed around, struggling to kick the sheets off his legs. Y/N stared at him like he was a maniac, which only made him panic more. Why wouldn’t the sheets come off his legs? Why wasn’t she helping him? Why was it suddenly so hot in there?

Harry woke up with his cock straining up against his stomach, forehead covered in sweat and bedsheets tangled around his feet just like in his dream. You know, the dream where he was about to have sex with Y/N.

He was grossed out when he thought about it, even though he had no control over his dreams. How could he be actually thinking about his totally platonic, totally innocent roommate like that? It almost felt dirtier dreaming about her than it did watching her touch herself. One of them was just a goofy accident and the other was rooted in some sub-conscious desire to bury himself in someone who probably trusted and respected him as a co-habitor.

God, did he need a therapist?

***

WEDNESDAY

“I’m thinking Chinese for lunch,” Y/N announced as Harry came into the living room.

He groaned. “The last time we had that, they messed up every part of our order. Can’t I have some time to heal?”

She lazily flipped through the last pages of the magazine in her hands. “It’s been six weeks, Harry. You have to give them another chance sometime.”

“You’re not the one who got duck in their order last time!” He indignantly crossed his arms. “Let’s just order in pizza.”

“Fine,” she sighed. Y/N pointed across the room to her phone on the TV mantle. “Go ahead and call that place down the street. I’m going to get some water.” She tossed the Cosmopolitanon the coffee table and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Harry with her phone. Alone.

It wasn't that Harry was a distrusting person, necessarily, he was just a bit nosy. He stared at the keypad in the phone app, switching over to the recent calls tab as quickly as he could. Most of them were pretty normal—her mum, Harry himself, her job, and so on… But what really confused Harry was the fact that the most recent phone call she’d made to Valerie was over two weeks ago.

Wait. He’d just heard her chatting with Val about her sex life yesterday. There’s no reason for her to have deleted the call so… it must have never happened.

Y/N had been playing him the whole time. His mind felt like it was short circuiting. He truly had thought he’d gone mad! She knew exactly what she was doing, at least ever since the popsicle incident. He wasn't sure if he should be mad or super turned on, but he was sure that she couldn't get away with this.

“Everything alright, Haz?” she asked, coming back into the living room with a sweating glass of ice water in her hand.

He scrambled to switch back to the keypad, hastily punching in the number to the shop and bringing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, m’fine! What’d you want on yours, again?”

***

THURSDAY

The next morning, Harry sat at the breakfast table, reading the paper and minding his business. A tiny rumble from his stomach made him consider eating something, since his tea wasn’t doing much for him. His thoughts were interrupted when Y/N joined him in the kitchen.

She fluttered in wearing only a t-shirt. It was a black band shirt that was long enough to cover her ass, but Harry still peered over his newspaper, wondering what kind of game she was going to play now.

The answer to that was metaphorically shoved in his face when Y/N got on her tip toes to reach a bowl on a high shelf; the hem of the shirt lifted as her arms did, exposing her panties. Harry couldn’t believe his eyes at first, but after a few seconds of shamelessly staring he realized they were the exact same pair she'd been wearing when he peeped her touching herself last Thursday.

They were silky and light pink, not covering her whole ass but not quite a thong. The fabric really framed her flatteringly and Harry felt an urge to grab her ass and maybe smack it, even more than he’d been wanting to earlier throughout the week.

Fed up, he scraped his chair back and threw down the paper. He marched over to her as she whirled around wearing that fake confused-and-innocent look she'd been rocking all week. Harry was quite done, however, and pressed her up against the counter, his semi-hard cock digging against her hip.

"Why are yeh doin' this to me, love?" he whispered, breath ghosting over the shell of her ear.

Her knees buckled, but she stayed standing thanks to H trapping her between his warm body and the counter. "I d-don't know what you mean."

Harry laughed dryly, grabbing her wrists and forcing them behind her, getting them even closer together. "That's enough of that, minx. Y’know you've been driving me mad all week just to get a rise out o’me." He smirked as his eyes dragged across her face.

She swallowed, trying not to break eye contact with this intimidating man. All she could do was nod.

His eyes darkened and he dropped his head down to her neck, brushing over the skin with his lips. "I want to hear you say it, pet," he growled. "Say you've been teasing me all week because you wanted my attention."

Her jaw dropped as he started sucking marks into her soft skin. "I teased you all week - oh God there - because I wanted your attention. Wanted you to fuck me."

Harry groaned at this, one fist coming up to yank at her hair. "Yeh think y’deserve that? You've been a real menace ‘n you shouldn’t get off that easy,” he demanded, grinding his cock into her hips. "You think you should get my cock inside your sweet cunt?”

“Yes!” she groaned out, knowing a nod wouldn’t suffice. The corner of his mouth tugged up once more, and he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her up to her bedroom.

He set her down on the bed and joined her, crawling on his knees. “There’s a move I wanna show you,” he started, yanking his t-shirt off from the back of his neck. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, pet,” he ordered. “You’re gonna lie on your back and you’re gonna touch yourself.”

Her brows furrowed and she sat up on her elbows timidly. “Huh?”

“You heard me,” he barked, voice low. “Don’t act shy now, I saw how you make yourself feel.”

She nodded, pulling her shirt off her body. She laid back down and timidly pulled aside her underwear to expose her cunt to Harry. His own palm dug into the front of his trousers as she warmed herself up, rubbing circles around the sensitive spot on her clit.

“Wish it was,” she breathed, “wish it was your fingers. They’re so much – uh– bigger.” Y/N was one to put on a show and Harry was eating it up. Her fingers dipped inside herself and came out glistening wet, and he finally pulled out his cock from his trousers to start stroking himself. Neither one of them were really giving any thought to how insane masturbating with your best friend was—all they could think about was how long both of them have waited to do this.

Harry caught her eyeing his cock slicking in his palm. “Wanna get your mouth on me?” Her doe eyes met his, and she confidently nodded. “Stay still then,” he commanded, “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

So she continued fingering herself and Harry climbed over her and straddled just below her shoulders, so his cock was right at her mouth. She obediently stuck her tongue out and he slapped the head on it a couple times, eliciting a groan from his mouth. Y/N latched her mouth around him and sucked like she did on that damn popsicle. H grabbed a fistful of her hair as the moans from her self-inflicted pleasure rang through his cock into his body.

The more she touched herself, the more she moaned, and Harry was starting to lose it. Her fingers worked herself over as the heel of her palm slid over her clit. She came on her own fingers, just like she did by herself awhile back, and arched her back below him as her orgasm rippled throughout her.

“Can I come on your face, pretty girl?” he begged, and she politely nodded, having trouble catching her breath with a dick in her mouth. He pulled out and painted her face with thick ropes of white cum, body shaking as the pleasure washed over him. “Fuck, pet, you’re killin’ me.”

Once they’d caught their breath, Y/N got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a new t-shirt on and a clean face. Harry had since put his boxers back on, and she joined him on the bed. He was the first to speak.

“So… do you wanna go to hot yoga now?”

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