#truly the hope diamond of rare pairs

[mikavlcs]

Spotlight

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: During an unprompted visit, Wednesday discovers something that you’ve been trying to hide.

Warnings: competetive!wednesday, overuse of parenthesis, this exists outside of canon bc i didn’t wanna come up with characters to replace thornhill and weems lol

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: this was requested by an anon (dino, hi), hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Wednesday could not stand most of the Nevermore population.

Normal teenagers were already grating enough but throw in the various quirks and abilities that came with being an outcast, and you were left with a supernaturally aggravating group of people that Wednesday wanted nothing to do with.

Most of them managed to vex Wednesday without even speaking—their mere presence an irritation to her. And that went for both students and teachers alike. No one was safe from Wednesday’s wrath.

But amongst the outcast-driven chaos and adolescent body odor, she managed to find a few people that she tolerated. Diamonds in the rough (though she would never describe them as that to their faces).

People like Enid, whom she was slowly and unwillingly warming up to, and Eugene, who reminded her too much of her brother for her to not become somewhat attached to him.

Xavier was still able to agitate her by merely being within her immediate vicinity, but he had his rare, fleeting moments of tolerability. Though they started off on the wrong foot, Bianca had earned her respect, solidifying her place on Wednesday’s short list of acquaintances…until they entered fencing class.

And finally, there was you.

A truly unlikely friendship. One that actually began as an initially one-sided academic rivalry.

You were the unfortunate soul that she got assigned to sit next to in a few classes. Because of this, Wednesday found out quickly that you were very smart.

Not as much as Wednesday (no one was), but enough to earn her respect and allow the competitive air between you to form.

She, of course, was winning but you were never far behind, and she refused to let you win.

For your part, you participated in her competition without complaint, but you seemed to do it more out of interest than a need to best Wednesday. Which shifted the dynamic in a way she didn’t expect.

Because unlike Bianca, you didn’t return her insults or instigate fights. You were kind to her. Always. Even when she was anything but kind to you. It made her feel… unpleasant.

So she resolved to stop being excessively rude to you, toning down the insults and leaning into apathy which was her first mistake. Her second was the decision to engage with the small comments you made during class rather than ignoring them outright because once she started lowering the wall between you, she couldn’t help but let it fall a little further each day.

The more she got to know you, the more her indifference morphed into something unrecognizable. The coldness she extended toward you melted, and the acquaintanceship turned into an actual friendship.

It shouldn’t have. In theory, she should have never grown close to you. You were shy, unnaturally clumsy, and you had an absolutely ungodly obsession with puns. But you were also sweet and endearing and pleasant to be around.

It worked in spite of the odds because you somehow exploited the same weakness within her that Enid and Eugene did. A fact that should have upset her but didn’t.

Still, the rivalry, though much friendlier now, endured. Both because Wednesday’s want for challenge never ceased and because you began to enjoy the competition as much as she did.

(Wednesday also enjoyed the look of wonder you had whenever she showed you a perfect test score. But she would never tell you that because you would then think that she was trying to impress you. She wasn’t.)

Whether she was influencing you or not was unclear, but you came out of your shell, matching her usual light insults with playful jabs of your own. Teasing slowly replaced the shy comments you made during class, and you grew just a bit more confident around her.

It only served to warm her up to you further.

The amount of time Wednesday would spend with you outside of class unknowingly increased. And with this newfound closeness, she started to notice some…oddities about your supposed clumsiness.

At first glance, it appeared that you were just chronically uncoordinated—tripping over things that were in plain sight was an everyday occurrence for you—but she discovered that this lack of coordination was a symptom of a greater issue.

That issue being that you had terrible eyesight.

The first time she really picked up on it was while working on a project together outside. You were working under the shade of a tree in the field behind the school and a flash of movement from above caught Wednesday’s eye. She went to inspect it and had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

Thing, the attention seeker that he was, was trying to wave to you from her balcony.

She commented on it so you could wave back and get him to stop, but when you turned, you didn’t wave back. Rather, Wednesday watched as you struggled to find Thing above you, unfocused eyes flitting in every direction without finding their target.

It got to the point where she took pity on you and pointed to where he was hopping on her balcony railing. You waved in his general direction and got right back to work but Wednesday’s mind lingered on the incident.

She began paying more attention to your behaviors in class, the way your eyes squinted, and you had to lean forward slightly when trying to read something that was just a little too far away.

You struggled most in Miss Thornhill’s class, which Wednesday couldn’t really blame you for.

Thornhill moved at a breakneck pace, something Wednesday liked about her class, but she wrote terms in a small, nearly illegible cursive that even her well-trained eyes had trouble deciphering at times. Being assigned to sit at one of the tables near the back surely only exacerbated the problem.

And if it were anyone else, Wednesday would be happy to know that she had a leg up on the competition. But you weren’t anybody else and instead of finding victory or satisfaction in your hardship, she found herself wanting to help you.

An urge she obviously resisted, but it persisted nonetheless.

During a particularly rough class, Wednesday watched as you constantly tried and failed to understand the things written on the whiteboard up front.

You were so distracted with your notes that you made no attempts to tease her, nor did you tell her a single joke. Not even a terrible pun when she sat down in her seat. It bothered her far more than it had any right to.

After class, Wednesday stayed behind longer than usual. You noticed—if the glances you sent her way were anything to go by—but didn’t say anything. That only bothered her more.

She sighed, slid her class notes over to you. “Here.”

Startled, you looked over to her, then to the papers, then back to her.

“You’re letting me borrow your notes?” you asked, astounded.

“Just this once,” she warned, cold eyes piercing. “It would be a shame for one of my only worthy academic rivals in this outcast prison to fall behind because you refuse to act on your eyes’ obvious inadequacies.”

Before you had the time to comment on her admittance of your intelligence, she was swiftly packing her things and walking off. Just before she left the classroom, she heard a bemused, but grateful “Thanks, Wednesday!” called out behind her.

She ignored it, just as she ignored the disgusting fluttering feeling that accompanied it.

-

Unplanned setbacks were nothing new to Wednesday.

Honestly, this one wasn’t even really her fault.

One of the gorgons—tall, loud, and annoying—called her tiny. Him finding three uncovered, full-body mirrors in his dorm bathroom was simply what she would classify as karma.

When confronted she denied any involvement, citing it as “a truly unfortunate accident” but Weems, for all her faults, was no fool.

So now, Wednesday was confined to her dorm room for the week as punishment. Thornhill was stationed outside to make sure Wednesday didn’t leave her room after classes for anything other than meals and extracurriculars.

Wednesday didn’t have the heart to tell Weems that this feeble excuse for “solitary confinement” was more an escape for her than a punishment.

Though it was proving to be an obstacle for her now.

There was a Botany test scheduled for the next day. That was part of the reason why Wednesday chose to lend you her notes. But she wanted to get some studying done before her quickly approaching writing hour, so she had to get them back.

(Not that she needed to study—she had every word written on those papers memorized, but another sweep over its contents wouldn’t hurt. Especially if it guaranteed her a higher score than you.)

She had planned to retrieve them after harvesting hives with Eugene, but now it wouldn’t be that straightforward.

Fortunately, security measures as amateur as having a teacher stand outside her room were as simple for her to bypass as performing an autopsy. Something she could do in her sleep.

“Thing,” she called to her disembodied companion, “fetch me one of my spare grapples and some rope.” When she didn’t hear his tell-tale scuttling, she begrudgingly added a low, “Please.”

The sound of scampering finally reached her ears and Thing appeared beside her, the grapple and rope she requested nestled between his fingers.

She took the items from him and began tying the rope to the grapple’s end. “Thank you, Thing. If Enid returns before I do, then tell her to cover for me.”

He flashed her a thumbs-up and crawled over to Enid’s bed, no doubt intent on raiding her magazine collection.

After knotting the rope, she kicked the window open and ducked onto the balcony, connecting the hooks to the balcony railing. She threw the rope over the edge and gave it a hard tug to make sure it was anchored properly.

The grapple didn’t budge. Satisfied, she grasped the rope, climbed over the railing, and rappelled down to your balcony below with ease, spotting your hunched form through the glass of your window once her feet hit solid ground.

Silently, she pushed the window open, slipped in, and approached you. “Are you finished with my notes?”

You jumped, hard, knees banging against the underside of your desk and scattering your papers. Chest heaving, you spun around, relaxing when you saw her. “Wednesday, oh my god. Don’t scare me like that.”

She would have laughed or given you a sly remark, but she was distracted. Her attention completely taken by the glasses on your face.

The sleek, thin frames sat steadily on the bridge of your nose. She despised how she noticed the way the color accentuated your eyes. Even more so, she hated how she couldn’t deny that they looked…nice on you.

How unfortunate.

“So you do own a pair of glasses.” The words slipped from her lips as her eyes traced them for the fifth time.

You paused, then settled back against your chair, hands moving to reorganize your jumbled notes as you avoided Wednesday’s eyes.

“Two actually.”

Confusion coursed through her. You had the solution to your problem within your grasp this entire time, yet you decided to not use them? It made no logical sense.

“Then why don’t you wear them to class?”

“I-“ you sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“More stupid than knowingly impairing yourself and your performance in your classes?” Wednesday deadpanned. You stayed silent. She exhaled. “I vow not to use the information to blackmail you in the future if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The promise pulled an airy chuckle from you, and she cursed the warmth it spawned deep within her chest. “I actually wasn’t worried about that, but thank you for the assurance anyways, Wednesday.”

Wednesday gave you a nod and kept her eyes on you. Her expectant gaze didn’t go unanswered for much longer. Your eyes moved to the floor, apparently finding your socks a more interesting sight than her. Not that she cared.

“It’s just-I don’t like the way they look,” you admitted, soft and unsure. “I know you don’t care about others’ opinions but I’m not like that. I’m afraid people will laugh at me if I wear them outside of here. You probably think that’s stupid.”

You were right, she did think that was stupid. Because it was. She knew that insecurities were rarely rooted in logic, but this was just ridiculous. Ridiculous enough that she had to unpack it in steps.

First, the idea that anyone would laugh about you wearing glasses was odd. Thornhill and Eugene wore glasses without issue or ridicule. And if the vampires could walk around in their moronic sunglasses with no shame, then you should have no problem traversing the halls with your glasses.

And second, the ludicrous idea of yours that you looked bad with them on. If anyone were to see you now and say that you looked bad, she would question their own need for glasses.

Even she couldn’t find a single negative adjective to describe how they looked on you. In fact, she was having the exact opposite issue.

Wednesday debated just not saying anything in case she let her unsavory feelings slip accidentally, but she didn’t like how downtrodden you looked. Especially when it was because of something as insignificant as this.

“Well, if you’re going to listen to anyone’s opinions then listen to mine since you know I’m always correct.” The tiny smile that crept onto your face threatened to derail her thoughts, but she pressed on. “I think that you should wear them more often, and if anyone laughs, I will personally see to it that it’s the last sound that they ever make.”

You looked up, surprise flashing across your features. “Really?”

“Considering you literally need them to see, it just makes good sense to wear them, does it not?” she drawled out evenly. Seeing your remaining hesitance, she continued. “And in spite of what you may believe, they don’t make you look any worse than you normally do.”

Despite the blatant insult she included to try and distract you, your face lit up. Wednesday nearly looked away. “You don’t think they look bad?”

“No. I think they frame your face quite nicely actually.”

She didn’t catch her mistake, too busy fighting off the heat spreading in her cheeks to notice her fatal word choice. But you did. You gasped, a wide smile pulling at your lips. “Was…was that a pun?”

The words hit Wednesday like a punch to the stomach. She recoiled slightly, but knowing she couldn’t take it back she heaved a heavy, defeated sigh. “Not an intentional one.”

“Oh my god,” you said through a burst of giggles, “I can’t believe Wednesday Addams just made a pun.”

“Please stop pointing out my linguistic shortcoming. I hate being reminded of my personal failures,” she grumbled, trying to minimize the damage as much as possible. But you paid her plea no mind.

Your soft laughter filled the dorm, a melody almost as pleasant to Wednesday’s ears as the ones she played on her cello. The radiance you exuded in that moment was overwhelming.

She should have been upset with you, she really should have, but she could muster no negative feelings in the face of your unbridled joy. Even if it was at her expense.

So she let you have this victory. Just this once.

And maybe, just maybe Wednesday would be willing to accept defeat more often if it meant seeing you like this.

#pretending tyler doesn't exist is practically my full-time job at this point #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - 002

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”

“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally. 

“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”

“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”

“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”

“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.

A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.

The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.

But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.

“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”

“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.

She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”

You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”

“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”

“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.”

“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped. 

“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”

You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’. 

You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight. 

She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter. 

It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.

You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.

YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued. 

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.

“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice. 

“Okay, you want to talk about me?”

“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”

“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.

“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him. 

“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat. 

“How long have you been listen-”

“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”

“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”

“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.

The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range. 

“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.

“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly. 

“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.

“You’re hurting me!”

John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house. 

“Where the fuck is it?!”

“I don’t know!”

The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat. 

The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior. 

“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled. 

“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.

“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself. 

She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.

“She is tweakin’.”

“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.

“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.

“No cops, please!”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement. 

“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook. 

The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”

“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered. 

“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”

Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”

Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”

“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.

“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.

“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.

“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”

You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.

“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”

“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall. 

“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke. 

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.

“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.

“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.

“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.

“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”

“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.

“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.

“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum. 

This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John. 

The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.

“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”

The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’. 

“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.

“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.” 

“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.

“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.

“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.” 

Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”

“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”

“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”

“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.

Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”

The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”

John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”

“I don’t know-”

“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.

“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.

“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.

“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”

“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.

“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”

“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”

“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.

“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.

“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?

‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.

“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible. 

Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.

“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.

Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.

“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort. 

“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.

“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”

John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father. 

“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however. 

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'. 

“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.

“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.” 

“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly. 

“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”

Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad. 

“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”

THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.

“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”

“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.

“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.

“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.

“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!” 

“Just shut up!”

“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”

“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.

“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.” 

“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”

“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you. 

“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”

You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.

“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.

“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.

“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.

“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.

  

 “NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.

“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.

YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.

“Is everything okay-”

“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.

“What do you mean you just got fired?”

“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.

“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you. 

“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”

You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.

“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” She hollered.

“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.

You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.

The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.

“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.

YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.

He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.

THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.

“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”

Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”

Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open. 

“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.

“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.

“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.

“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde. 

“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.

“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.

“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”

“...What?” John B spoke.

“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried. 

“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool. 

“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up. 

It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.

“You alive in there?” JJ called.

“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”

“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed. 

“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

SVN Taglist; (let me know if you'd like to be added!) @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm

©loveharlow.

#Spotify #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #obx jj #SVN #obx fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff #obx jj x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #obx jj maybank #obx netflix #obx x reader

[thosehallowedhalls]

Until the Stars Fall from the Sky

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril x Raine (f!human!MC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 886

Summary: Even Tyril finds himself at a loss for words sometimes. Expanded version of the diamond scene in book 2, chapter 2.

A/N: Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge (prompt: flowers), and @choicesflashfics (prompt: my life would be empty without you in it). @choicesficwriterscreations

Raine snuggles up against Tyril, soaking up his presence as they lie together in the forest. The mingled scents of damp earth, greenery, and flowers waft up sweet and heady through the air, making her heart ache with the beauty of it.

Strictly speaking, though, this moment has no business being perfect. The ground is damp, she can hear what’s most likely mice scurrying through the bushes, and she’s pretty sure that the tickling in her right leg is ants. And yet.

This is Tyril.

Being back in his arms tilts the balance to the side of perfect so thoroughly that all inconveniences barely register. She rests a hand on his chest, feeling the comforting thump of his heartbeat under her palm. She has no recollection of the last year, but she knows that somehow, even in her state of unconsciousness, she missed him.

She isn’t surprised when the arm around her tightens its hold every couple of minutes. She wants to hold onto him with all her might, too. But she tries to reassure him anyway.

“I’m right here, Tyril. I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhales. “I can’t help it. Part of me still believes I must be dreaming.”

“Have you dreamed of this? Since I left?”

“Every day, in all my sleeping and waking moments.”

“I hope reality lives up to it.”

He trails his fingers down her cheek. “The reality of you is always better than dreams.”

She will never get used to the way he talks, like she’s the most precious thing in his life. The way he looks at her, like she truly is his dream. Sometimes she wishes she could speak like he does, words turning so seamlessly into poetry. But she can show him how she feels in other ways.

“Tell me, what did you do this year? Kade only knew the basics.”

“I spent the vast majority of my time seeking a way to get you back.”

“Oh, Tyril.”

“I scoured through libraries, archives, and private collections. I believed that the answer must be in Undermount, so I rarely left the city.”

“Didn’t you spend time with your family?”

“To an extent, yes. Although my primary focus was my research, I endeavored to assist Adrina with the restoration of House Starfury.”

“How is that working out?”

“Better than I could have expected. My sister is extraordinarily clever.”

“She takes after her big brother, I take it?”

“I believe her gifts are all her own.” His smile fades. “But all the successes, the repaired alliances, the regained status… It all rang hollow. Because you were gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says fiercely. “I’m the one who failed you. “

“You did no such thing.”

“I did. I didn’t protect you.”

“Tyril, there is nothing anyone could have done.”

“I prided myself on being resourceful. I should have found my way to you.”

“There was no way. There’s a reason Valax needed me. Realm walkers are rare.” In an attempt to lighten the mood, she flutters her lashes. “One of a kind, even.”

His lips twitch. It’s not quite a smile, but she feels the triumph of it all the same. “You were one of a kind before you became a realm walker.”

“My ego would be lost without you.”

“I was lost without you.”

“Tyril…”

“It’s the truth.” Levity forgotten, he raises himself up on an elbow and gazes into her eyes. “Before, I used to think my life would be empty without you in it. Once you were taken, I knew it to be true.”

She laces her fingers through his, a silent reassurance.

“Being without you, Raine… It felt like all the sunshine had left my world.” When his voice breaks, her heart does the same.

“I’m right here, Tyril.” She kisses his mouth, his jaw, his cheeks. “You have me.”

When his hand cups the back of her neck, bringing her mouth back to his, she follows eagerly. Her hands come up, fingers digging into his shoulders as she breathes in the scent of him. Parchment, ink, and just a hint of smoke. “Gods, I’ve missed you. I know it doesn’t make sense,” she says when his brow furrows. “But I missed you so much.”

He whispers a few words, and suddenly, there’s a small bouquet of pink flowers in his hand. “For you.”

“Showoff.” Laughing, she slides off his body and back to the ground. “They’re beautiful. What do they mean? Don’t give me that look. You wouldn’t give me random flowers. There’s a meaning to them.”

He brushes his lips against hers. “Indeed. Pink camellias signify longing. Most particularly during someone’s absence.”

“Is that your way of saying you missed me too?”

“More than words can convey.”

She swallows past the knot in her throat and lays her head on the crook of his shoulder. “Coming from you, that’s saying something.”

“It appears even I can be at a loss for words.”

“I love your words, but… I don’t need them. You know that, right? All I need is you.”

He tightens his hold on her again. “You have me. Until the last star falls from the sky and beyond.”

They don’t speak after that. They don’t need to.

They both know they’re exactly where they’re meant to be.

#tyril x raine #tyril starfury x mc #blades of light and shadow #playchoices

[thevikingwoman]

Saw a post on Finish your WIPs February and I was not going to do any of that, except Solas and Iwyn insisted. It was fun writing them again.

Originally started in 2021, for a kinky bingo prompt of "infidelity", here's Solas and Iwyn enjoying some art, and each other - acting on their attraction to each other after Iwyn's husband leaves.

Fandom: Dragon Age | Words: 4114 | Read on Ao3

Iwyn Lavellan x Solas | Modern AU | smut Rating: Explicit. Infidelity, smut, fluff, angst, Iwyn is lonely, her husband is a bit boring, Solas is lonely too, nothing new here though, oral, piv sex, safe sex, casual relationship

Casual Fun

There is a surprising amount of rich, beautiful people at the museum. Solas knows many donors are more interested in getting their name in the brochures – or even better, in brass on the entrance pillar –but they still attend events to mingle and make sure everyone else knows they are there.

It’s still more crowded than he anticipated. The foyer is busy, a string quartet plays, and the trays of canapes and sparkling wine are quickly refilled.

The patrons of the arts, all dressed up. It doesn’t matter why people are here – the museum is free Wednesdays and Sundays, and hands out scholarships to young artists and that matters. Solas doesn’t much care about making connections or socializing, but he does care that there is money for the arts, and this is why he donates himself, of course.

It’s the opening of the A. Brenhan exhibition – a renown Orzammar artist who rarely allows his works to be shown on the surface. Solas had hoped to see the collection relatively undisturbed, and initially the throng of people had dashed his hopes. When he makes his way to the special exhibit on the second floor, he realizes he was wrong. Very few people wander the exhibit. It seems everyone is more interested in the spectacle that is themselves.

He spends some time on the charcoal sketches. It’s mostly architecture. Forgotten Thaigs and empty corridors and old houses. The story behind them is more interesting than the sketches themselves.

Most people actively browsing the gallery are in pairs or small groups. Like himself, they might have a more serious interest in the art, or simply worry about missing out. While he appreciates the peace and quiet here, he does wish he had someone to discuss the art with.

Solas moves to the next part of the exhibit, what Brenhan is most known for. Oil paintings on large canvasses, larger than Solas is tall. The kind of work you hang in museums, or maybe in mansions of some of the very rich. No matter, the artist’s fame is well deserved. Most of the paintings feature Dwarven architecture, ancient and modern both, but above them an impossible sky. Brenhan is a traditionalist, and has never left Orzammar, and doesn’t truly know what the sky looks like. The effect is eerie and unsettling, and meant to be so.

“I can’t decide if I love it, hate it, or just find it odd.”

Solas is startled by the woman next to him. He’d not noticed her, or assumed she was part of the group that moved on.

“It’s captivating nonetheless,” he offers.

“I agree. It’s one of the more interesting exhibits recently.”

He turns to her, and she is captivating too. Her dress is a shimmery white, contrasting with her tan skin and red hair piled on top of her head. Diamonds drip from her pointed ears and her green eyes sparkle. As she moves, his eyes are drawn to the high slit in her dress and her tall heels.

He quickly looks back at her face, and she smirks at him.

“Do you often attend the openings?” he asks, and realizes this is almost as cliche as do you come here often? He wanted someone to talk to, and now he wants to sink into the floor.

“Most of them, if I can.” She smiles and holds out her hand. “I’m Iwyn.”

He takes it, and she gives a firm handshake.

“Solas.”

“So, Solas, are you familiar with Brenhan’s work?”

“Some. I have not seen such an extensive collection before. From what I understand it is the most comprehensive exhibition of his works. Outside Orzammar, of course.”

“Yes, I’ve heard so too. I did see some of his work in the Museum of Modern Art in Denerim, but it was only a few. I do find his work intriguing, and a lot more impressive in person.”

“It’s the scale of it. It doesn’t translate well to a catalogue.”

Iwyn agrees and they talk more about the paintings, moving from one room to the next in the exhibit. He learns that her interest in art is recent, and he has plenty of knowledge he can share with her. Her own insights are unique and interesting still, seeing the soul and emotion of the pictures without the baggage of art study. The conversation is invigorating and easy.

Sometime later, an elven man joins them. He’s a little shorter than Solas, with a square jaw and long dark hair gathered in a bun at his neck. He leans over and kisses Iwyn on the cheek.

“Hello, dear.”

“Solas, this is my husband Halier. Halier, Solas is an art enthusiast and he’s been sharing interesting thoughts on the exhibit.”

Solas heart drops in chest and he instinctively puts space between him and Iwyn. He’s enjoyed their conversation immensely, and working to steer the conversation away from the art and towards leaving for drinks. Like a fool, he’d ignored the large diamond ring on her finger. It went with her earrings and bracelet.

Halier grunts and thrusts out his hand, and Solas can do nothing else but take it.

“Solas. I’m sure I’ve seen you before – where do you work?”

“I’m a partner at Evanuris Wealth Management.”

“Of course. I must have seen your picture in your office. I’m a partner with Lavellan, Lavellan & Sabrae Law Firm.”

“Very nice.”

Solas isn’t here to discuss business. Most days, he doesn’t hate his job, or the family business, and he’s glad it allows him to support the arts like this, but he also doesn’t want it to consume his life. He isn’t here to discuss business.

“Are you done here?” Halier directs his question at Iwyn, but does not wait for her response. “I’d like to get out of here, I have that early flight tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying a bit longer. Take the car, I’ll grab a cab.” Iwyn fishes a valet ticket out of her clutch, and lightly kisses Halier’s cheek. “Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t. I have to be at the airport at 6am. Goodnight, dear.” He takes the ticket, and nods at Solas. “Solas, nice to meet you. We can discuss business at some other time, perhaps. Thank you for entertaining my wife.”

“A pleasure.”

Solas watches as Halier leaves, but his attention is soon back on Iwyn.

"My husband finds these things terribly boring,” she says. “We're donors, and he likes his name on something cultured along with the tax deduction, but that's it."

"And you don’t find these things boring?"

“I like the events, and the art. Especially with interesting company.”

He doesn’t know how to interpret that, with her sly smile and sparkling eyes and husband retreating down the stairs.

“The art is certainly better with good company.”

He closes a little of the space between them, and he wants her to forget her husband existed. Fuck.

“I’d love to look at the final part of the exhibit. Do you want to join me, Solas?”

She brushes past him, her fingers skimming his arm as she gestures towards the last room they have not explored. He’s no idea if it’s deliberate, but the heat of her sears him through his jacket.

They spend another thirty minutes, at least, taking in the final room. The art is interesting, but more and more he finds himself staring at Iwyn. She catches him, at one point, causing him to quickly avert his eyes and stumble over his words.

Iwyn puts a hand on his arm.

“How about getting some drinks? It seems you’ve lost interest in the art.”

“I’m looking at a different type of art, even more interesting and beautiful.”

It slips out before he can stop himself, but she just gives him a crooked smile.

“Let’s get out of there, Solas.”

-

Iwyn takes Solas to a nearby bar. There’s a risk someone would know her and her husband, of course, but she’s willing to take it. Halier already knows she was talking with him, and they’re just here to talk a little more. Maybe, she admits, she wants to more than talk. She likes his eyes on her, the intensity in them when he looks at her. She likes his voice, and the way he called her beautiful just earlier. Brazen and rebellious.

The bar is nice enough, a regular upscale bar matching the surrounding office buildings, galleries, art museum, restaurants, and symphony hall. She thinks it was featured recently in the nightlife section of the local newspaper, but she isn’t sure. Iwyn orders the featured drink, The Divine’s Night Off, with crystal grace infused gin, brown sugar syrup and Navarran orange liqueur. Solas orders a fruity pink grapefruit vodka concoction.

They make careful small talk, at first. About art, and the museum and the ballet (Solas is a fan, Iwyn isn’t) and other arts that the city offers. They carefully avoid talking about work or what Solas does for a living. It’s clear that his company and her husband’s do some business, and she doesn’t want to think about that.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at the donor evenings before. We – I try to go to most of them.”

“I have been a donor for a while now, but the last two years I’ve been in Kirkwall. For work.”

Solas makes a face, and she grins. No one really likes Kirkwall, not even the people from there.

“Happy to be back in Wycome?”

“Most certainly. Kirkland is boring at best, and polluted and prejudiced at its worst. It is a relief to be back. Though I must say that I did not expect the event to be that enticing.”

His voice sends shivers down her spine.

“I’m very glad you’re here, Solas. It made my evening a lot more exciting so far.”

“So far?”

“It could become more exciting.”

“How so?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

She’s bored and lonely most of the time, if she’s honest, and Solas offers something new and different. She wants his hands all over her. She wants to fuck him. There are many reasons she’s still married to Halier, but mediocre sex isn’t one of them. She never thought of meeting someone like this, flirting like this. The thrill of it is lightning in her veins, and the fact that Solas knows about her husband intensifies it.

Solas takes a sip of his drink, and traces the edge of his glass. His fingers are long and elegant.

“I would very much like to. Figure it out, I mean.”

She’s made up her mind, and she doesn’t want to wait anymore. Iwyn is out of her comfort zone, but there is something about Solas that draws her to him. She needs to know if he feels the same, and she’s no reason to hide her intentions.

“Sweet talker.”

“Iwyn, I…” He pauses, and looks serious. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Solas,” she says, as she reaches across the table and places her hand on top of his. “I know a hotel, nearby.”

“Yes,” he replies, to the question she didn’t ask.

They pay for their drinks and slip out into the cool night. It has rained while they were at the bar, the wet sidewalk reflecting the lights from the street. Boldly, Iwyn pulls Solas close and kisses him, soft and quick. He freezes, and she’s about to apologize when he pulls her close again and kisses her back. This time there is nothing soft or gentle about it.

“We should probably find that hotel,” she mumbles when they pull apart. As much as she wants to keep him close, she also wants him naked. Solas seems to agree, nodding and taking her hand. It’s only two blocks to the hotel, and they manage without too many stops for kisses. The entrance is well lit, gold handles in the glass doors.  

She hesitates in the lobby, but only briefly. She is certain. Solas hand is at the small of her back, as if it belongs there. As if they’d checked into a hotel together a million times before.

“Can I help you?”

The human behind the counter looks very bored. It’s quite late, and the lobby is empty.

“We need a room for a night. We don’t have a reservation.”

Solas is close and she draws on the confidence in his presence. He wants to be here. She wants to be here. What they’re doing is no one else’s business.

“Sure.” The girl taps on her computer. “Nightly rate 399. Credit card and Id, please?”

“Let me,” Solas says smoothly, and she supposes he right. It’s not that she can’t pay, but it’s better it’s not her name. Some part of her doesn’t care, craves the danger of it. But she’s not quite ready to self-destruct her life.

Solas hands over his cards, and the girl dutifully enters his information into her system. She hands them two keycards. She looks too tired and underpaid to ask about their lack of luggage.

“Room 906, elevators are down and on your right. Checkout is at 11am tomorrow.”

Solas thanks her, hands Iwyn one card, and starts down the hallway. Iwyn grabs his hand.

“One moment.”

She heads to the hotel convenience store, determined and casual all at once. She looks at the little stand of toiletries – deodorants, cotton buds, razors.

“Do you have any condoms?”

The dwarf behind counter grunts, and pulls out a silver cardboard box from a cabinet behind the counter.

“19.99.”

She hands him her credit card, and puts the box in the purse when the transaction is complete. The dwarf grunts again, and fiddles with his phone.

Iwyn hurries after Solas, and puts her hand in his when she catches up.

-

They slip inside the room, and the door closes with a soft thud behind them. Iwyn pushes him against the wall, and catches his lips in an eager kiss. He slips his hand through the tall slit in her dress, caressing her skin, like he’d been wanting to all night. He kisses her neck, she gasps.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. He pulls back and really looks at her. A thought occurs to him. “Does your husband know you’re here?”

He isn’t really certain why a beautiful woman wants with him, and her husband is certainly handsome enough. If he’s part of someone’s kink he’d like to know.

“No. Does that bother you?”

He shakes his head.

“Good.”

Iwyn walks to the bed, and drops her dress on the floor. It pools around her feet, leaving her nude except her lace panties and tall heels. She twists off her diamond ring and drops it on the bedside table.

“He won’t know anything,” she states.

She is breathtaking. He tentatively touches her arm, her shoulder. Runs his fingers across her collar bone, and down her chest. She gasps when he cups her breast briefly, before skimming over her ribs, resting his hand on her hip. He follows with kisses, all the way down the body until he kneels before her. He frees her legs from the dress, folds it, and toss it on a chair.

“If he did know – your husband – would you be in danger?”

She laughs at this, and cuts herself off. She looks at him earnestly.

“Thank you, Solas, for asking. I wouldn’t be. He would be severely disappointed, I suppose. Just like he severely disappoints me.”

He kisses her knee.

“I will endeavor not to, in that case.”

“Very good.”

The way her voice drops when she praises him sends a bolt of arousal straight to his dick. So does the fact that she’s here, with him, while her husband has gone home alone.

He runs his hands up her legs, and kisses her lace covered sex. She gasps, a low involuntary sound, completely lovely.

“Sit down, please?”

She does, sitting herself on the bed behind her. Before he can lean in closer, she lifts one foot, pressing her heel against his chest.

“You’re overdressed, Solas.”

“Of course.”

He takes off his jacket, and unbuttons his shirt. Iwyn crosses her legs, and follows every move with hooded eyes. He hopes he measures up. With his chest bared he leans over her and kisses her, deep and hungry.

“Everything, Solas,” she says.

He complies, taking off his shoes and dresspants and socks and boxers. There’s no elegant way to go about it, but Iwyn is just sitting on the bed, leaning back on her elbows with a small smile on her face. She smiles wider when he’s finally naked, and he’d happily suffer a little awkwardness to put such a smile on face.

Iwyn uncrosses her legs.

“Now where were you?”

Solas slides down in front of her. “Right here, I believe.” He slides his hands up her calves, past her knees. She yields to his gentle pressure, and lets her legs fall open. He kisses the inside of her thigh, and again, his lips caressing her silken skin all the way up to her lace clad mound. He kisses the lace, and she moans deliciously when he breathes hot air against her. He draws his head back to look at her, glorious above him, and caresses her with his fingers. He slips two inside her panties, touching her slick heat. Iwyn bucks against him, his other hand firmly holding her left leg.

“More,” she growls, and he draws her panties aside, leaving her clit exposed, pink and swollen. He teases it, and rubs against the sides of it, and then he presses down on it.

“Like this? Softer? Harder?”

“Harder, softer. Alternate.”

He smiles, and does as she asks, causing her to gasp and writhe. She is alluring, her half-covered sex arousing, her wet cunt inviting. He wants to taste her, to make her scream. He keeps working his fingers, and kisses the inside of her thigh. When he reaches the top, he licks up her cunt, reveling in her taste. She moans, a deep throaty sound and he groans too. He looks up at her, her shiny red lips parted, her cheeks flushed with desire.

“More?” he asks.

“Yes, please. Now.”

“I think I’ll get rid of these first.”. He smirks at her, moving his hands across her panties. They’re pretty, but in the way. He pulls the fabric a little up, making the lace rub against her clit, and then down. She lifts her hips easily, allowing him to slide them all the way down her legs. He carefully pulls the panties over the heels of her shoes, leaving them on her feet.

He doesn’t tease this time, no matter how inviting the soft skin of thighs is, but sits right up between her legs and spreads his palms over her hips. Her legs part wide for him, and he lowers his mouth to taste her again. He licks and sucks her sensitive folds and her swollen clit.  He’s rewarded with a low moan, her head thrown back. He adds his hand, his fingers teasing her opening. Iwyn takes the opportunity to throw her leg over his shoulder. She’s wet and soft, clenching around his fingers, her juices coating his chin. Her heel digs into his back, pressing him closer to her, a beautiful counterpoint to her sweet taste.

She is all his, right here, even if it isn’t so outside this room. Not that she belongs to anyone but herself, not truly.

Solas keeps working his fingers, his tongue until she shudders around him, moaning and trashing against him. He lets her come down carefully, gently easing her out of her climax. Her leg slips to the floor and she relaxes into the bed.

“That was – very good.”

“Yes?”

“You did good,” she says again, firmer this time. His already hard cock jumps at it. He wants her and he wants her approval more. He wants to be good enough for her. He’s here with her, and her husband isn’t. He’s the one who slides his hands all the way down her legs, and gently takes off her shoes, kissing her ankles. He’s the one who crawls into bed after her when she swings legs up to stretch out on it.

He’s the one who asks her, “what can I do next?”

“Touch me,” she says. “Like you care.”

Solas is suddenly furiously angry, overcome with a need to punch Iwyn’s husband in the face the next time he meets him. He won’t, of course, and refocuses his attention on Iwyn. He just met her tonight, but he does care. He wants to touch her, to please her, right here in this downtown hotel. He also wants to talk art with her again, to get to know her better. He shoves that thought to the back of his brain. Being the one the satisfy her will have to be enough.

“I do care, Iwyn.”

She looks stunned at his earnestness, perhaps like she regrets her vulnerability. He patiently lets his fingers wander up her torso, feather-light. Iwyn recovers and smirks.

“Get on with it, then.”

He does, his hands wandering across her chest, teasing her nipples as he dips his head to kiss her. He learns what makes her moan, what makes her arch her back. Her hands are not idle either, sliding up his body, digging into his shoulders. He groans when she traces one finger up his cock, and wraps her whole hand around it. She pumps it slowly and all thoughts flee his mind, his hands randomly touching her, needing to feel her skin beneath his hands in any way he can. Iwyn sits half up, and kisses him.

“Lay back, Solas,” she says, extracting herself from under him.

He does, laying back and lets her continue to do as she pleases. Her hand is back on his cock as she grins, her other hand holding him firmly down when his hips jerk. He’s so hard it aches, and he almost can’t hold it together when moves faster, twisting her hand a little.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“Please, please, Iwyn.” He’s ready to beg for anything, has been since he first laid his eyes on her.

She lets go of him, and finds the packet of condoms, opening one. Her nails are expertly manicured, a deep green color. The diamond bracelet glints against her wrist. She rolls the condom over his cock.

Seated above him, she drags her nails across his chest, her cunt hovering out of reach. He wants. He needs, he needs her now.

“Please,” he says again. “I need – “

She lowers herself on him, heat surrounding him, perfect and far too slow. When he moves, thrusting his hips up impatiently, she puts a hand on his chest.

“Stay still.”

Her eyes are burning, and it’s not a question. A demand. A test. He complies and grows impossible harder. Iwyn moves with agonizing slowness. His hands find their way to her waist, supporting, but not changing her pace, letting her stay in control. They’re both panting, eyes caught in each other.

Finally, Iwyn moves faster, leaning more on her weight on his chest as she collapses a little forward. He grips her hips tighter, and she nods. Now he moves with her, into her. It’s tight and hot and wonderful, and he moans her name as he throws his head back. Iwyn brings her own hand between her legs, and they both move faster, erratically. She trembles above him, glorious and beautiful, and his own orgasm takes him by surprise, intensity coursing through him.

Iwyn collapses fully on his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. She sighs and kiss his neck, as she slides off him, then tucks herself into him. Solas deals with the condom, and lets himself enjoy her warmth next to him.

"I don't normally do this," she says.

"Neither do I."

"Fucking a married woman, or engaging in one-night stands in general?"

Both. Either. He just nods, and kisses her brow. She idly caresses his shoulder. It feels far too comfortable.

“I’m glad I did,” she says.

“As I am I.” 

They lay intwined, and he holds her. A minute. An hour. A moment. Long enough to pretend this belongs to him.

She slips away well before dawn. Home, he supposes, to her husband, or an empty bed he has left. Back to her real life.

She kisses his cheek.

"Thanks, Solas. I had a good time."

He squeezes her hand.

"Me too," he says, and he smiles, as wide and genuine as he can.

Casual fun, another man's wife.

The door clicks shut after her.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfic #solavellan #solavellan fanfic #iwyn x solas #writing about Iwyn #AHH it was so nice to write them again #they are happy and married in almost every timeline #here they get to be messy #just a bit #had 3000 words of this just lingering in my wips #very happy to throw it out there #finish your wips #viking writes #published 2/29/2024 #leap day seems apt for leaping back to solavellan #solavellan hell is eternal

[storyofmychoices]

Drunk on Love

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!OC) Book: Blades of Light & Shadow (setting this in my book 1 AU) Word Count: ~850 Rating/Warnings: Teen, drunk characters Tagging: @choicesoctober; (favorite ship) @choicesprompts (Flufftober) ; @choicesficwriterscreations Prompts: ""I…I want to give you my heart. It belongs to… to you. How… how can I give it to you? I don’t want it anymore." from this drunken confessions list requested by me.

Synopsis: Mal is very drunk, but he is also very much in love with Daenarya.

The amber glow of the flickering candlelight danced on the walls of the old tavern. Mal and Daenarya found themselves at a table in the corner, their laughter mingling through the lively air. Neither noticed the occasional glance of nearby patrons, not that they would care even if they had. Their focus was entirely on each other, and in that moment, nothing else mattered to them.

His vision slightly blurred from the drinks, yet, Mal couldn't take his eyes off her. He leaned in closer, his voice hushed and filled with playful admiration. "Daenarya," he began, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right comparison, "you're like... like a glittering gold coin sparkling in the torchlight... no, like a diamond—diamonds are prettier, right?"

Daenarya couldn't help but chuckle at his tipsy stumbling. "Diamonds are indeed prettier," she replied with a teasing grin.

"Yes, like a diamond—" he continued; his words trailed off again as he tried to focus on how she was like a diamond. "—Your eyes."

"Are brown," she giggled, enjoying his flustered state.

"Diamonds are not brown," he muttered, taking another swig of ale, hoping to find some inspiration at the bottom of the mug. "Mud is!"

"Don't even think about comparing my eyes to mud."

"I wasn't going to...." He offered her a lopsided grin. "How do you feel about owlbears?"

"No."

"Brown is hard!" Mal's arms folded across his chest in defeat.

Daenarya's face flushed as she stopped herself from making a suggestive comment in reply. Instead, she would prove him wrong. "No, it's not." She rested her elbows on the table, placing her chin on her hands. She leaned forward toward him, her gaze soft and adoring. "Mal Volari, you are the most handsome man in all the realms. Your brown eyes, like a bay horse running wildly in an open field, pull me in on the grandest adventures. Your brown hair is like cocoa, rich and inviting, a flavor of warmth and comfort; it's one of my favorite things in the world. And your smile, Mr. Magnificent, it's like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm, warming my heart."

Mal blinked in surprise, his drunken demeanor momentarily forgotten as he was captured by her words. He couldn't help but grin broadly at her, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the drinks.

"See," she leaned back, but not before bowing her head with a flourish of her hands. "Not hard. Now you!"

His mouth hung slightly open, his eyes widening in utter adoration. Rarely were there times in his life when he was at a loss for words, but there he was. There was nothing he could say in this state to truly capture her beauty and what she meant to him. He'd just have to show her. 

Mal slipped one of his ornate daggers from its sheath as he lifted it up. The blade glinted in the light as he held it in his grasp. "I…I want to give you my heart. It belongs to… to you. How… how can I give it to you? I don’t want it anymore." 

Her brow raised curiously as she offered a playful eye roll.

He pointed the tip of the blade toward his chest, trying to figure out the right angle and position. "Here?" he looked up to her for guidance.

"A little more toward the center," she offered, taking a sip of her ale. She watched in amusement as he placed his hand over his chest, trying to find his heartbeat. 

"Okay, here!" He decided firmly.

"That looks about right—" Daenarya slid beside him, pressing a kiss on his cheek, her hand laying over his atop the dagger. "—but, let's wait until tomorrow for the surgery."

"But I want to give you my heart. I don't need it anymore. You should have it. Then I can prove how much I love you," Mal pouted as she relieved him of his dagger.

"I already know," she whispered, placing her hand on his chest over his heart. "Your heart has always been mine, as mine has been yours."

"You're so smart and pretty," he marveled. "Will you marry me?"

She lifted her hand in front of his face, flashing the ring on her finger. "You're a little too late."

His eyes glistened in the low light, his lips turning down as he stared at the trinket. 

With a slight shake of her head, she lifted his hand up, revealing his own ring. "You're a little too late," she repeated, "because we already said I do."

"I do, too." The back of his hand caressed gently across her cheek before his fingers threaded through her hair, drawing her to him. "You're the best part of me. I'll always choose you."

"I'll always choose you, too," her reply was lost on his lips as he kissed her again and again. 

There was no one else in the world he'd choose than her, and he would spend every moment proving just that to her.

Not really edited so forgive any mistakes, I really just wanted to write really drunk Mal offering to cut his heart out for Daenarya because it definitely seemed like him. They're idiots, but they mean well.

Thank you for reading ❤️❤️❤️

#mal volari #mal volari x mc #mal volari x oc #malarya #daenarya #mal x daenarya #blades of light and shadow #bolas #choices #playchoices #choices game #choices book club #fan fiction #lovealexhunt #blades 2 #bolas 2 #blades of light and shadow 2 #october2023

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - I Hate Oyster Pâté- Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Teatime with two chem-baronesses.

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO on AO3

cw: mentions of sex work and child labor

Snippet:

In the evening, he has tea with Renata and Margot. The pair are working to merge Glasc Industries and the Vyx for a joint venture into Sextech. Beyond artificial limbs or prosthetics: neural interfaces designed to replace lost senses like sight, touch and taste. Organs grown in vitro. Body modification. Synthetic hormones. 

A veritable smorgasbord of sensation.  

Their collaboration is symbiotic; they're each other's muse. When he arrives, they greet him charmingly: Renata with a perfumed air-kiss along his unscarred cheek, Margot with a coy squeeze of his hand in both her own. They are dressed to kill in contrasting gowns of champagne silk and silver mesh.  On both their hands sit a pair of impressively-sized engagement rings.

Silco gives them his wry admiration. "My congratulations, ladies. Or is it condolences?"

"Tsk, Silco. You do tease."  

Renata proffers her hand to flaunt the ring. Like most Undercity jewels, it is made of black diamonds from the mines. Piltovans hanker for white and colored gems. They are less opaque, thus easier to grade by color intensity. But black diamonds are rarer still—and because of their scarcity, fetch higher prices.

Silco would know.

As boys, he and Vander nearly suffocated during a tunnel collapse to collect broken diamond ore and haul it to the surface. They were taught to value black diamonds above everything else. Including—especially—their own lives. A sumpsnipe was as common as shit in the alleyside. A black diamond was priceless.

The stone is rough-cut, an iridescent blue vein running down the center. It is sharpened to a spike, and retractable like a claw. The design serves a dual purpose: a glittering proof of partnership and a hard-edged tool for self-protection. This one could puncture steel.

"Truly a work of art," Renata says. "Twelve miners died in the making of this jewel."

Margot giggles coyly. "I think they would celebrate the result."

"Blood is far less pedestrian than champagne."

"And leaves a sweeter aftertaste."

They laugh in ribald collusion.

To Silco, they resemble a pair of hyenas draped in designer silks—predacious and patently phony. Their laughter spills like blood through a tourniquet. On the rare occasion he finds himself in their company, he feels a sense of amused ennui that these creatures, a dark nadir to Piltover's bright apex, are his nation's crème de la crème, its end-product of proud aristocracy. How will it end? He can hazard a guess: with bloodlines as watery as the Pilt, and as poisonous, with dull-eyed socialites and blustering buffoons at the top of the slag heap, their children grown fat on imported decadences and their minds washed complacently clean of history by fashionable frippery.

That is Zaun's future if it forgets its roots. It is why he must cut deals and cut throats. Safeguard legacy against entropy.

Protect Jinx's future.

He settles back into his seat, eyelids drooping half-shut. "You'll forgive me if I don't ask for particulars on your engagement."

"That's a man for you," Renata scoffs. "Little is worth lingering on. But yes—you’re forgiven. And darling, I know you told me not to have supper prepared. But I took the liberty of having Elza fix oyster pâté. Your favorite, I recall."

"Divine," he lies.

"And tea, of course. You could use some tea."

"The day has been long."

"Ah, but your speech." Margot flutters her eyelashes. "I listened to the broadcast this afternoon. You were magnificent! So passionate!"

"That was the idea."

"You should likewise rouse my workers. Cheeky things—they deserve a proper tongue lashing! I'm still a-blush over the last’s misconduct."

"Photography is hardly a crime. But there is a time and place. Jinx’s bedroom is neither."

"I hope his impertinence can be forgiven."

"On the contrary. I was amused. Boy thought a lot of himself. I quite cured him of the notion." His small smile doesn't bother to hide its sharp-toothed secrets. "But is that why you sent him to me? To play Krampus to the intransigent?"

"You have such a fine hand for discipline."

"And a better eye for blackmail."

Margot colors up. Renata purses her lips.

Silence hangs heavy as a noose.

Silco cuts to the chase. "The new ordinance on brothels," he says. "Neither of you approve."

Renata raises a single, fastidiously plucked eyebrow.  "It’s less approval than mystification, Silco. Do prostitutes really need a guild?"

"It would increase tax revenue. And make life easier for the ordinary Zaunite."

Margot pouts girlish censure. "Surely, as procuress of the Vyx, my workers are exempt?"

"Regrettably: no."

"But Silco—"

He cuts her off with a gently-worded warning. "Your concerns are noted.  But let us keep things in perspective. Our priority remains Zaun. That means more than just Sextech and warm bodies. It means the safety of our citizens. And those who perform acts of service on their behalf."

"We're not safekeepers," Renata says archly. "We are businesspeople."

"Then it behooves you to take care of your investments. Before they become liabilities."

"Hence your endless ordinances."

"Exactly."

The cords on Renata's neck rise, as if she wants to spit in his face. Instead, she smiles sweetly. "How paternalistic."

Silco's own smile is slow, cold. "We each serve different mistresses. Mine is Zaun, and her welfare."

"Your one true love."

"Interminably."

She titters. "You’ll work yourself into an early grave, Silco."

"I'll have plenty of company."

"Good gracious!” Margot says. “What poor company the dead would make."

"Then liven it up while I'm breathing." Silco consults his pocketwatch. "If we've concluded our business..."

Margot nods demurely. "I'll ring for Elza to pour tea."

She starts to rise. Silco lays two fingertips on her wrist. He is still smiling. But his eyes have taken on a dark and deadly shine.

"Tea is sweeter when you pour it, Margot,” he says. “And incidentally, Renata—I hate oyster pâté."

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #renata glasc #arcane margot #arcane chem-barons #silco #silco fanfic #fantic #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Prompt:  “Amazingly awful at training”

Pairing: Mereoleona x gn!reader

Fanfic type: Oneshot

Length: ~0.7k 

Training at Yultim. One of Mereo’s favourite training regimens.

But it didn’t mean that it was one of yours. Hell, it didn’t mean that it was even among the training regimens you liked. Though you couldn’t imagine that it was a particular favourite of many to begin with. So, you weren’t exactly alone in the matter.

And… you weren’t exactly the best at operating in such environments.

It seemed like no matter how many times Mereo dragged you, or carried, or chased you depending on the day, to the volcano, you just… didn’t seem to improve. You just couldn’t push past this obstacle in your way; the obstacle that kept you from growing stronger. It was a threshold you just didn’t seem to be able to pass. No matter how hard you tried.

Which wasn’t really made easier by watching Mereo just force her way through anything that came her way. Not just at the volcano, but in anything she faced in life. She really was an inspiration, but… you couldn’t do what she did.

However, no other way of training had proved quite just as effective. Or ineffective. It always felt like any method you were presented, worked for someone else, but not you.

The obstacle courses, working together as a unified, coordinated front weren’t your thing.

Quite frankly, the only reason why you had gotten into the squad had been because you had been able to… What did I do? I… did what I usually do-, did. People used to tell me that I make things too difficult. Or look dumb while doing it. But it worked…

You glanced ahead of you, seeing everyone else ascending the mountain with a good pace. And you sighed.

There were some magical beasts nearby, judging from the sounds. Averting them would be relatively easy, even if they were fast, they weren’t awfully bright. They just focused on the strongest unfamiliar sources of mana and either destroyed it or chased it away.

Quite frankly, after observing them during your trainings, you were convinced that they didn’t see or feel in the traditional sense. Mana sensing was their primary source of information.

But in there, was an idea.

Ascending the mountain was laboursome, but you could store mana into a stone or alike and hover it in the air. You had used that method to avoid the beasts before. But… what if you could use it to your advantage?

And with that idea, you found a large enough rock, and begun storing your mana into it. Of course, it’d fade away with time, and you’d have to maintain concentration on it to keep it charged, but it’d happen pretty naturally if you were going to levitate it nonetheless.

Next you set up the stone under a cliff, and waited for a beast to appear. Which, soon enough did.

You hopped onto it’s back, which was large enough to hold you no questions asked, and begun floating the crystal in front of the beast’s face, hoping that it’d take the bait.

And it did.

Before long, you were well on your way up the trail. In fact, you passed a good number of the other squad members, and they fell behind as a result of staring at you… do your thing. Never in their life had they seen that approach to ascending Yultim, and never again, or at least with no one else, would they see it again.

But one person was looking at the scene with a wide grin, one canine peeking past her lips.

Finally, you were embracing your own way of doing things. She had always known you had talent, and it was all yours. Perhaps it was that inventive, eccentric way some might have called ‘awful’ that had made her like you initially. Perhaps. She didn’t know. But what she did know, was that it kept her intrigued.

You truly were a rare gem.

Her amazingly awful rare diamond in the rough.

#black clover fanfiction #mereoleona x reader #mereoleona vermillion x reader #black clover oneshots #ringing silence

[birb-tangleblog]

What’s the craziest Tangled crackship you’ve ever come up with/heard of?

Fun question! I think it’s almost cheating to say crackship; anyone can mash 2 random chars together for whacky result. At least one person needs to be legitimately invested in it for it to be a ship, y’know? 

A lot of TTS ships also feel rare in the sense that there just isn’t much content for them due to the small fandom, even if there’s some basis in canon- ex. Lance and Adira.

As far as non-canon ships go, Hector/Rapunzel has gotten some traction as a rarepair lately and has been pretty darn cute to see. 

I think the Brotherhood OT3 also counts and I’m the captain of that rowboat. (To be fair, any pairings between those 3 are rarities. I’m still stunned at the lack of Hectira in my life.) 

I actually thought Cassdira had potential as a ship + the possibly of being popular immediately after the S2 premiere. And let me tell you I’ve never been more wrong about something in my life.

#shout out to the fandom friend I was teasing for Eugene/Cap the other day #Hector/Cap too #truly the hope diamond of rare pairs #also an honorable mention for all the lady caine ships #idk if anyone is a dedicated shipper of those but I know they at least exist #text post #my post #THIS GOT LONG LMAO #I GOT A LOT OF THOUGHTS ON SHIPS AND SHIPPING #ask

[whirlybirbs]

❛  how are you ?  ❜ w/ batsy?

4  ;   PROMISED HAVEN — THE BATMAN / READER  

summary: you heed the bat’s advice and interview for a new job. a drabble series.

pairing: batman x f!reader, set five months after the events of the batman (2022)

rating: t+ for canon typical violence

a/n: i’m insane for the batman’s version of bruce. this is just me waxing poetic about a lonely man in black for however many words this is. and don’t forget, you can read me on ao3!

previous   |    next 

Bruce doesn’t want to be here.

In fact, he’s sure the entire room is painfully aware of the newly-reinstated Wayne Enterprise CEO’s feelings towards tonight’s event. 

As if standing in the corner, alone, was any indication. 

Charity events do nothing for Bruce — not when the charity is clutching diamonds around the throats of the wealthy and laughing into glasses poured from $500 bottles of champagne. 

However, Alfred made the appropriate point that the Prince of Gotham needed to be present if there was any hope in restablishing public trust in the Wayne family legacy. Bruce had hoped he could mend that legacy from the privacy of internal faciliation. It’s his second month as CEO — though the title is mostly more of a gesture than anything.

The Board of Directors hold his leash. 

The sole Wayne shifts from foot to foot — and in his pocket, he digs at the raw skin of his hands. Someone laughs across the crowded ballroom, and the music drones on. 

Bruce’s skin itches. 

It’s getting late.

He should be out. 

He’s about to down his champagne and drop the flute on the plate of a passing waiter when suddenly there’s a hand on the arm of his suit jacket. Blue eyes shift, and he realizes it’s Monet. 

Chief Marketing Officer, Monet Mwangi. 

A friendly face. A light in the dark.

The closest he has to a friend.

Her smile is wry — and just as dry as the look he gives her when she speaks.

“You look like you’re about to fashion a garrotte with your own tie, Mr. Wayne. Is that Armani?”

Bruce actually scoffs. In the months that Monet has gotten to know Bruce, those sorts of expressions were rare. He was exceedingly hard to read — something she had started to contribute to his general air of exhaustion. 

He looks better tonight, but Monet muses that a good suit will do that to a man. 

If only he consider any other color except black. 

Bruce had become a bit of her passion project. With her management of the marketing Wayne Enterprises, and in turn The Wayne Foundation, she knew that if Bruce was to truly become the face of the company just as his father once was, he’d need a little help.

Nothing a haircut, a personal stylist, and a good brand of concealer hadn’t helped. So far, so good. 

If only he would socailize. 

Even now, as he looks out over the crowd, he seems entirely disinterested to rub elbows with Gotham’s upper echelon. 

“How are you?”

“I thought you had the night off.”

It’s Monet’s turn to snort. “I’m celebrating.”

Bruce’s dark brow raises in a placid gesture of intrigue. She can see the ghost of dark circles beneath his eyes when he does so.

Monet sips her drink. “We finally found a promising administrative assistant. She’s interviewing Monday.”

Bruce hums. He’s quiet for a second, then in a slow rasp he offers up:

“You’re hiring a glorified coffee runner?”

Monet is laughing before she realizes it. There it is — the rare glimmer of the man he is beneath... all of it. The burden, the horror, the lonesomeness. Beneath the dark, there’s something else there. She can see it in the flash of a shy smile that is quieted when he bows his head. 

“Honestly,” Monet finally offers with a smirk, “I dare you to ask her to fetch that sugar bomb latte you like so much.”

A disgruntled little hum. Sheepish, almost. “S’not that bad.”

“It’s gross.”

“S’mocha—”

“Like I said,” she says as someone calls her name and waves her down by the ice statue. Monet starts off, wagging her finger. “Monday. She’s interviewing at 10am. I hope you’ll at least make an appearence, Mr. Wayne. Let her see that the CEO is involved, yes?”

Bruce’s lips twist. 

He nods, then. 

And, alone once more in a sea of people, he slips away.

▪    ▪    ▪    ▪    ▪

Wayne Enterprises is...

Well, what is the word for it?

Bustling — a city within a city. A hundred or more floors of life, of offices, of glass skywalks and orante decor. Modernity kissing the remnants of Old Gotham’s nouveau. Beautiful, really. 

As you wait in the Wayne Enterprises’ marketing lobby, you can feel the gnawing bite of insecurity creep up your spine. You fiddle with your earring, hand clasped neatly over your CV and resume — printed on the expensive paper the Staples across the street offers. You’d nearly been mowed down by a taxi retrieving it before your 10am interview. 

And here you are, fifteen minutes early.

Why did you do this to yourself?

What, so you could spiral quietly in the busy suite, being ignored by the copy writers and photographer and designer and various VPs running about? 

You shift on the stiff leather couch. 

“You’re early.”

You blink.

When you look up, it’s Miss Mwangi in the doorway of the marketing suite.

Your smile immediate — the handshake you both share is warm. Your immediate anxiety is eased by her easy going attitude.

“It’s habit.”

She leads you down a long hall with floor to wall windows. Outside, the sun is bright. Gotham swirls below. Up here, worlds away, it feels dizzying. 

It’s in a bright conference room that she introduces you to a woman named Amanda — from HR — and another man named Philipe whose role is Communications Manager. Monet Mwangi refers to him as her second in command. They’re both nice, you recognize Amanda as the one who’d given you the phone screening interview five days ago. 

You try to remember to sit up straight. To breathe.

They hum over your resume, and then the interview begins. 

Meanwhile, Bruce is late.

He promised Monet and — fucking shit. 

This door is a pull not a push.

He enters the marketing suite and hopes, at least, someone will assume he’s hungover and not see the truth of it — that he’s wrestling through a minor concussion.

Baseball bats will do that.

You’re in the middle of answering a question about your preferred method of constructive feedback when suddenly there’s a knock on the glass door behind you. 

Even with the sunglasses, this entire suite is too bright. His eyes stay on the carpet. Bruce ignores the edge of a headache creeping up on him. The three Excedrin Extra Strength in his coat pocket are like a safety blanket.

Across the table, Monet’s eyes light up. You pause.

“There he is.”

You twist in your seat.

It’s in that moment that you come face to face with Bruce Wayne for the first time.

He’s tall. 

Swathed in a jet-black wool jacket that looks like it cost double your rent. His hair hangs in his face, and his eyes are hidden by sunglasses that sit neatly on his crooked nose. Bruce Wayne’s entire outfit is void black, dark enough to swallow the light of the room as he moves slowly to push open the door and slide into the room. 

Motorcycle boots pad softly on the carpet. Out of place.

He was in a rush this morning.

“Sorry—” comes a soft rasp from the man.

“Mr. Wayne, let me introduce you to our guest—”

When Bruce finally looks up, he feels like he’s been slapped across the face. 

You’re standing there in the light, smoothing down your soft sweater and offering your hand with an earnest smile. You’re saying something, something about how it’s a pleasure — and Bruce is just fucking standing there staring at your hand as if he’s completely forgotten how to fire a single synapse in his brain.

...What are you doing here?

Maybe his concussion is worse than he thought.

Monet’s brows tighten for a brief second.

Bruce clears his throat. After a faltered moment, he takes your hand and shakes it. Immediately, you notice the callouses on his hands.

His breath holds steady in a moment of wary anticipation. 

Would you know it’s him?

Would you know, if he spoke your name?

The truth is you don’t. 

Not even when Monet elbows him, reminding him of his manners, and he straightens himself up in his chair. He removes his sunglasses. In the morning sun, his eyes are so blue you almost choke on your words — something about your sought compensation for the role. 

He squares his shoulders and you realize suddenly he’s taller than anyone at the table. His posture, though, and his habit of shrinking himself, lends him to come across as smaller. 

Throughout the interview, he rarely meets your gaze. Only when you look away do you catch the edge of his eyes. Then, they bound away. 

By the time the interview is finished, you’ve settled:

Bruce Wayne is a bit strange. Aloof. The rumors about the Wayne son seem to be something of fact, then — the hermit Prince of Gotham is something of a weirdo. 

...You like it.

When you leave, you feel confident about the interview.

You have no idea, that as you hail a cab, Bruce Wayne is offering Monet two words:

“Hire her.”

#promised haven #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x y/n #the batman x reader #the batman #the batman imagine #dc imagine #the batman x you #the batman x y/n #the batman spoilers #battinson x reader #battinson imagine

[xreaderbooks]

Two sides (2)

Pair: ACOTAR Azriel x reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Summary: Y/N has been in love with Cassian for centuries now, Just how Azriel has been with Mor. Both heartbroken by their unrequited love they fall into a routine of 'one-night stands', Not realizing their each others mate.

Masterlist - Part 1

A/N: So I dont know how accurate the mate information is, like I said before I haven’t read the ACOTAR series since 2019 so I probably got a couple things wrong or didn’t write the characters the way you would expect them to act. I chose to make them more how they would be in head canons if you get what I mean. Either way I really hope you enjoyed the 2nd and final part to Two sides :) Feel free to send requests for Azriel or any other Acotar characters. Thank you all for the support <3

"We need to talk."

"Okay," Azriel says skeptically, he walks over to sit on the chair across from you.

"I wanted to apologize for the other night," You shifted in your seat as you spoke, you were noticeably uncomfortable. That bothered Azriel, he wanted you to feel natural not forced, he didn't know where that desire came from but it was true. Even if this conversation was a bit awkward. "I never meant to make you feel used, I guess, I just needed a distraction."

"From seeing Cassian and Nesta together?" He asked. You bit your lip and nodded. "Y/N, I didn't feel used." He let out a small chuckle. "I enjoyed it, actually. And a bit flattered that you chose to-" He coughed awkwardly, "share that part of yourself with me." You grinned. You eased up a bit after knowing that Azriel didn't feel bad about what happened the other night, and even enjoyed it. It also warmed your heart at the fact that this was one of the rare moments that he felt comfortable enough to talk about how he was feeling. Despite it probably being out of sympathy or to defuse the tension.

"Oh," You chirped "well good. The last thing I wanted to do was fuck up our friendship."

He shook his head, "Y/N you've done a lot in the past few centuries that could've fucked up this friendship and we're still okay, better than okay considering. Besides Mor and I are still friends even after..." He tensed up, you went over to him and hesitantly put your hand on top of his.

"I know." You gave him a small smile. "I have an idea, I'll admit it's not my brightest but it will benefit the both of us."

His eyebrow quirked, "Your ideas are never the brightest, that's why you're just my second."

"Okay, wow." You blinked, removing your hand, and started pacing around the room. "First Rhys made me your second because I'm good at my job and you're just better cause of your shadows." He glared at you when you made the comment about his shadows. "Two, I've had a couple of good ideas in the past you just never go through with them."

"Maybe it's because all your ideas are reckless and we'd get caught if we did our job by using your so-called good ideas." He got up to meet you when you turned around to face the other way, you were met by his chest in your way.

You huffed when you looked up at him. "Whatever, I'm pretty sure you were going to like this one." He gave a nod to continue. "I- you know what I think it's better if I just show you."

He cocked his head to the side. You took this as an opportunity to grab him by the back of his neck and slammed your lips onto his. Immediately after he put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. He started walking backward, leading you towards one of the bedrooms. Your foreheads pressed together but you paused from kissing him, catching your breath. You knew he could hear your heartbeat, beating quicker by the second, his heart was beating faster too. It gave you all the encouragement you needed to start taking off your clothes.

"So this was your bright idea," Azriel asked, while also hurriedly taking off his clothes.

"Mhm." Was your response before nodding and relocating your lips onto his.

The intensity of it made your heart stutter. You wanted him and at that moment he wanted you. He truly wanted you, you both felt it and took that feeling, using it to fuel the passion in that kiss. He moved down to your neck, nipping and biting at it. You moved your hand to slowly graze his wings, which made him freeze. Azriel gave you a look that made your body go on overdrive.

He picked you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he continued to "eat your neck" as Cassian had said all those days before. You rolled your eyes at the thought, but then they rolled back as Azriel bit at a sensitive area that intensified that already intoxicating feeling you got when you were with him.

And you wished it never ended.

~~~

"How do you feel about this?" You asked, hoping he'd be okay with it. So far he hadn't opposed.

"I don't want to hurt you." He confessed. You knew he meant physically, he could be a little rough sometimes. You were okay with that though, You rolled your eyes at his comment.

"I'm serious Y/N." He looked you in the eye. You were back at the training grounds of the Illyrian camp. You didn't specify any details, so you both didn't care about speaking in public.

"I'm a big girl, I think I can handle it." You began to walk ahead of him, He grabbed your forearm and pulled you back to face him, a hint of a smile on your face. "Only if you're sure."

Your smile faded once you saw that he was genuinely concerned. "Az, you wouldn't hurt me. I trust you."

He froze and let you go. He had a hard time letting people see how he was feeling but you could tell he was struggling with letting you in and his self-deprecation.

~~~

You had kept your secret "relationship" hidden from everyone else, as much as you could. It didn't take long. They were extremely nosy and it was difficult with Mor being your best friend. She always knew when you were lying and had insisted you were acting differently. You would always blow it off and say you had a good day, telling a random story you just thought of on the spot.

Cassian had continued to tease you about your secret lover-- which only intrigued Mor even further-- you avoided the truth most of the time. You and Azriel would be extra careful when doing what you did. Sometimes even going to Inns and you would both winnow to the location.

Going through all that trouble only for Amren to find out and threaten to tell the others. She tried to blackmail you into buying her a pure diamond bracelet. As if she couldn't afford it yourself. You talked to Azriel about it and you both decided you didn't care if anyone else knew, it's only a matter of time before they found out anyway. Plus you could use the money to buy a house somewhere private in Velaris. You enjoyed the privacy and lack of teasing for as long as it lasted.

Amren didn't tell but as you predicted, everyone did find out. Some already had suspicions like Mor, Rhys, and Feyre. Amren wouldn't have known if she hadn't caught you both and Cassian never would have thought. You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed at him not showing any sign of jealousy. You knew he wouldn't be, being caught up with Nesta and all but you still held hope. You considered yourself a fool and would try to fuck the feelings out of you with Azriel. And most of the time it worked.

~~~

Months went by as sleeping with your best friend became your new normal. You never would have thought that you'd be one of those mysterious girls that Azriel hooked up with, ever since that night, you were the only girl. You had to admit, you liked the idea; being Azriel's only girl. But you knew that although you would be the only girl in his bed, Mor will always be on his mind. Not that you blamed him, you were still somewhat hung up on Cassian. After you can't get rid of 500+ years of feelings.

As you laid next to Azriel, who now stayed nights instead of leaving right after, You admired his tattoos, the intricate designs, you fought the urge to trace them. You did anyways but only a centimeter away from his chest so you wouldn't wake him. In the morning light that slipped through a slight gap in your curtains, It shone right on him. He looked ethereal.

You always knew he was attractive most Illyrian men were, at least if they weren't assholes most of the time. You had time now, to actually take in his beauty. You could never understand how someone so beautiful and kind could be so broken. You guessed that's why you chose him to spend your nights with, instead of some random guy. You could help him and heal him and get him to appreciate himself more.

The shadows around him became more active, it made him tense up. He was awake. You lifted your hand up to up to move the stray hair that fell onto his face. At that moment, you felt your world shift an overwhelming sensation of love and adoration consumed your body and you snatched your hand away from him. You were in pure shock.

'Holy fuck' Was the only thing going through your head.

"What's wrong?"He questioned as if he could sense your distress. His voice hoarse from just waking up.

"Nothing." You said, immediately getting up and getting dressed in whatever you had closest to you. "You should, um, You should get going. I have a lot of reports to do, I've been holding them off but Rhys has been asking me for them for the longest so I should get on it."

Azriel sat up, the bed sheet covering one leg and another part. His perfectly sculpted body in your bed, the lighting, half of his leg uncovered by the blanket. You tried to compose yourself to figure out what you would do. Hoping that he didn't pick up on how different you were acting. It was no use he probably already expected something was up.

To try to ease the tension you sat next to him, brushing the hair out of his face, dragging your fingertips down to the side of his face, and kissed his cheek. You ignored the tingles you felt as his face nuzzled into your hand. Hesitantly, you remove your hand and got up from the bed, and sat at the desk you had in your room. You pretended to read through old letters from officials.

Azriel took that as his cue to leave. He got dressed and pressed a kiss to the back of your head before he left.

He definitely knew something, that's not how your mornings usually go. You would at least spend an hour or two together either talking or enjoying each other's presence before sending each other off to your respective duties. However due to your new discovery of Azriel being your mate. You panicked. What would you do now?

~~~

Hours had passed and you hadn't left your room, choosing to focus on the reports that you did in fact, have to do. Rhys just wasn't expecting them for another week or so. Mor then busted into your room. "Knock, knock bitch."

"Uh, hello gorgeous, didn't expect a lovely visit from you today." You said sarcastically, turning your chair to face her. She dropped the shopping bags onto your floor. You lifted a brow in question.

"We're going on a trip!"

"I'm busy." You turned back around to focus on what you were writing.

"It's a fun work one." You twisted your chair around again.

"How do you mean?"

"Day court gala, bonding with people, gaining trust, and all that." She waved it off as if you didn't need to know actual information. You decided you'd ask for details from Rhysand later.

"And you went shopping." You gestured to all of the bags. "like you don't have tons of outfits you could take."

"Well of course I do. These are for you." She grinned.

"W-what?"

"Just because you're supposed to be invisible and all that, doesn't mean you have to be like that all the time." She referred to your job description, being another spy for Rhysand, relying on you being a woman to get information from people Azriel couldn't. Kind of ridiculous considering Azriel's shadows allowed him to get all the information needed but it was an easy enough job. Unlike Az, you didn't have shadows to command so you stuck to your black outfits tunics, and suits that would help you move easily. You never really dressed up, unless it was for an occasion, but you enjoyed doing it when you could. Most of the time you would be on duty or something like it so you couldn't.

This Gala gave you the perfect excuse too. You were thankful to Mor for having bought you these dresses and accessories. You were pretty sure you had worn all the dresses you had in your closet already.

"Yeah, you're right." You gave her a half-smile. Part of you wondered what Azriel's reaction would be to you in one of these revealing dresses. You shook the thought from your head. You would dress for yourself not for some male, even if that male is your mate.

You debated whether to tell Mor or not. She might be able to help you with your internal battle. Part of you was hurt about Cassian not being your mate. Another part always knew that he wasn't, and another part of you wondered how Azriel would react. Did he feel the bond snap into place? Or was it a Feyre-Rhysand situation where the bond would snap into place at another moment? Would he reject you cause you weren't Mor?

You opted to tell Mor at the day court where you would have more space and privacy from the others.

~~~

Helion's words about uniting and bonding were very heartwarming and kind, but you couldn't get past the thoughts that swarmed your mind. You took advantage of this time with everyone listening to Helions welcoming speech and sneakily made your way over to where Mor was standing. You pretended to greet her with a kiss and whispered in her ear to meet you in the room you were staying at.

"Thank the cauldron you came along, Helion was droning on and was about to make me fall asleep." She joked as she sauntered into your room. She paused her amused tone as soon as she saw your face. "You were fine like two minutes ago."

"Glad to know, I'm good at hiding it." You forced a smile. She tilted her head as if to ask you 'what's wrong', so you told her. You told her that Azriel was your mate and how it happened. You told her of your fears of rejection and confusion with your love for Cassian. It was a different love now, you felt it. There was a shift in what you felt towards Cassian and more intense feelings for Azriel. You suspected the bond but you didn't mind it. You then opened up about your insecurity about him rejecting you for her. Which she shut down, though she knew what you meant.

"Mor, Azriel loves you, like I loved Cassian. What if his love for you is stronger and he refuses to let go. We all know the only reason he never went for you is his trouble with his self-worth." Those were harsh words, but they were true. "He could easily reject me for you, knowing you don't love him in that way."

"You don't know that Y/N. And you loved Cassian, probably as much as Azriel loved me. After all this time you spent together, you truly don't think he would have changed the way he feels for me?" She grabbed your hand in hers. "You and Azriel are like two sides of the same coin, he's all dark and brooding and you, well you're the same in some ways. But you bring out the light and you can cast out all of his darkness with a simple smile."

"I don't know." You whispered. You were scared. Your feelings for Azriel already began to grow, without the bond, with it in place now it was strengthened. Your feelings for Cassian was a background noise that would soon grow into a more familial type of love.

"What should I do Mor?" You whimpered, you put your face in your hands. "I feel like a girl with a crush. This is ridiculous."

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes it is. On the bright side, if he doesn't know about you being mates, you could still have fun with other people."

You gave her a look. "You forget that he's my designated person to 'have fun' with."

"I didn't know you had a conversation on exclusivity." She shrugged and walked over to the cart that had alcoholic drinks, at the corner of the room.

"Technically we did when we agreed to sleep with each other when we felt like it." You reasoned.

"Hm." She mused, sipping on her drink. "I still say enjoy tonight, dance with a few males, or females, and if you two end up having sex with him again just enjoy the time you have with him."

"Thanks for the talk, Mor."

"Of course darling, by the way, I highly doubt he'll reject you. If he does he's an idiot and I'll kill him." She sent a wink your way and left you in your room to think.

~~~

Azriel watched as you swayed your hips to the beat of the music. A man who he didn't know came up from behind you, keeping up with you. That was the first of many. He felt a twinge of jealousy in his gut. He attempted to force that emotion down. He couldn't understand where that was coming from.

He was keeping watch, even though he always made sure to keep a lookout for danger to his court. Mor and Cassian tried to get him to ease up, he didn't budge. Who would pry Cassian from more liquor when he's had enough to drink if Azriel wasn't sober? He used the excuse of being the only responsible one to keep an eye on her. Y/n, Azriel thought he knew what it was to love someone because of Mor but what Azriel felt for Y/N was different. It felt raw and real and whatever it was, was growing fast. She was easy to talk to, not that he did much of that but she listened, actually listened when he did, and she didn't pry or hover as much as the others. They tend to beat around the bush when wanting to know about what was going on with him. Unlike Y/N who would take her time to make sure he felt comfortable and if, he wasn't, she would change the topic and act normal.

Y/N was a calming presence that allowed him to just be. She brought out another side of him that he thought he could never be.

That's why when he felt a change in the way he saw her dancing with a new guy than the one she was with earlier, it all made sense. She was his mate. He saw red as he practically flew to where they were. The fae males' hands that were roaming your bonds were ripped away from you and he dragged him away. Azriel pinned the man against the wall. People began to stare and talk in hushed whispers, appalled at the sight.

"Never touch my mate, again." He growled. He dug his fingers into the guy's neck.

"I-I didn't know." The man choked out.

"Well, now you do." He muttered, letting the man slump to the ground. He went over to where you were standing, eyes wide. His eyes softened while looking at you. He slowed as he got to you. "Can we talk?"

You nodded your head and began to walk toward an empty hall.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." He kept his voice low but soft. He was afraid, you would want to run away.

"You didn't." You stood there staring at him. You tried to figure him out, to no avail. His face was always stoic. "I- I thought you'd reject me and now I don't know what to do." You confessed.

"You knew?" He tried to recall if you had acted any differently. His shadows had felt the change in your demeanor and set out in whispers when you were rushing him out. He brushed it off, he should've looked more into it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you feel unwanted or rejected.

"Since yesterday morning." You confirmed. Your anxiety consumed you, you heard of the pain that came along with being rejected by your mate. Some have died from it. Little did you know Azriel was worrying about the same exact thing. Not thinking himself worthy enough of your affection. He allowed himself the pleasure of being in bed with you, assuming it was nothing more and he couldn't get hurt you or be hurt that way. It was a release from another pain you both had the displeasure of feeling.

"I want you to know it is an honor to have you as my mate." He took a step closer.

"Really? Honestly, I thought..." You shook your head. "Nevermind."

He looked confused but let it go, if you wanted to tell him you would. "Guess this means I have to go cook you something." You let out a laugh. He smiled an actual wide beautiful smile. Azriel grabbed your face and kissed you.

It was soon interrupted by a very drunk Mor who shouted, "Finally!"

Cassian was right behind her, "Mor! I forgot where the bathroom was, can y-" He paused looking between you and Azriel. "Oooh getting freaky in the hall, that's new. Hey Y/N if he isn't hitting it right, you know where to find me." He winked at you. Azriel gave him a murderous look, putting his arm in front of you. 'So he's gonna be one of those', you thought.

You couldn't wait till the second part of the mating process.

Tags: @wildchild2707​ ,@theworthlessqueen​ ,@ciciakai​ ,@rockinginneverland​

#azriel acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar imagines #acomaf #acowar #acosf #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #nesta x cassian #morrigan #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #amren #velaris #shadow singer x reader #shadowsinger #azriel x reader smut #feyre archeron #feysand #acotar x reader

[moririki]

⤷ PUT YOUR LIPS ON MINE

MIYUKI KAZUYA & KURAMOCHI YOICHI & SAWAMURA EIJUN & ISASHIKI JUN X READER -> 1.0K
kisses with the seido boys

REQUEST -> anon: hm, how about kisses with miyuki?
CONTAINS -> just some plain old fluff for my faves
MORI'S THOUGHTS -> anon i love you i love ace of the diamond tysm for requesting!! hope you don't mind that i made this more of a preference :))

❍ MIYUKI KAZUYA

he loves to tease you. he couldn't help it- maybe if you didn't look so cute when your nose scrunched up in annoyance he would stop. but your reactions were priceless whenever he did, so that's what he enjoyed doing most.

this was particularly apparent in his kisses. he would walk up to you, even in a hallway, and when you leaned in expecting a quick kiss he would pull away just before your lips touched, an amused smirk gracing his features.

he wouldn't stop at this game until you grabbed his tie or shirt, pulling him down to your level and planting one on him. but hey, he certainly wasn't complaining.

however, in private, instead of depriving you of his kisses miyuki preferred to tease you in a different way. he would hold your face in his hands, murmuring how he found you "so, so beautiful" before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

then your cheek. then your nose. then your hair. he would map out the details of your face with his lips, making sure to reach every part except your own pair. no matter how much you whined or tried to make it happen, miyuki would just laugh and keep doing so, revelling in the way you blushed at his touch or got flustered when he told you that he was saving the best for last.

and then, finally, when he pressed his lips to yours, he made it worth the wait.

he loved to tease, but he loves the way you taste against him more.

❍ KURAMOCHI YOICHI

he enjoyed when life got to slow down a little for him. on the rare occasions where his roommates coordinated with a night that you were free to stay over with him uninterrupted, kuramochi always made sure to hold you close and whisper small iterations of how much he loves you.

he always slept a little easier when you were there, and you always revelled in this when you woke up before him.

his grip loosened overnight, and you slipped out from underneath his arm and propped yourself up to get a proper look at him. even asleep and drooling mildly, your boyfriend was so beautiful.

his face was devoid of any frown or stress, and his bare shoulders peeked out from underneath the covers. you smiled to yourself, your fingers coaxing the sheet further down so that his back was also exposed while kuramochi remained unconscious on his stomach.

you traced idle patterns against his shoulder blades, admiring the hard muscle that he had. then you pressed forward, kissing the space just below his nape. accompanied by the sun from the unclosed curtains that lit up his back and gave him a heavenly glow, kuramochi truly looked like an angel right now.

you let your trail of kisses continue, travelling downwards and covering every inch of his exposed skin with featherlight kisses as he stirred awake.

"morning, babe," he mumbled sleepily, raising a groggy hand to wipe away the sleep from his eyes.

"morning, handsome," you whispered back, feeling him tug you towards him to make sure that you didn't see the apparent blush on his cheeks.

❍ SAWAMURA EIJUN

he was easily the most enthusiastic person you knew. always willing to go the extra mile, to put in extra effort, to never half-ass something. it was equal parts admirable and endearing, and you were sure to show your affection for him in the most blatant ways possible.

your favourite way to do this was by grabbing his face with your hands, cupping his cheeks tenderly and fixing your gaze into his amber eyes. the usually talkative boy would always find himself going a little quiet when you did this, his words catching in his throat from your sudden action.

then, without much of a warning, you would press a quick peck to eijun's lips. then another. and another. you'd keep going as he smiled into the kiss before finally pulling away to appraise him from a slight distance.

"i- love- you," you giggle to him in between kisses, watching his eyes widen almost comically at your words before smiling widely.

"i love you too, y/n!"

❍ ISASHIKI JUN

isashiki jun is a passionate man, first and foremost. despite his initial bashfulness when the two of you started dating, after a few months of getting to know each other better he had no qualms in letting you know exactly how he felt about you.

so, on a day like this, where you had just received a text from him saying that he was back at his dorms, you were tearing through the corridors to meet him there. you hadn't been able to see each other for the past few weeks due to him playing at a baseball tournament, but now he was back.

you saw him talking to ryosuke as you approached him, and you didn't hesitate to call his name loud enough for him to hear. his head perked up at the sound of your voice, and even though you were several metres away you saw the way his face lit up too.

he dropped his duffel bag without a second thought and spread his arms wide, and you dashed into them gladly. he engulfed you in a bear hug, much to the distaste of the other team members around you who scoffed at your antics.

"i missed you so much, baby," you mumbled into his ear from your place tucked into his arms. you felt jun smile into your shoulder, squeezing you even tighter for a second.

"i missed you too, my love." he finally let go of you to drink you in, and your face warmed at the loving smile that graced his lips and teased at the corners of his eyes. his rough palm rested against your jaw, and you didn't need any direction to lean forward, meeting his lips eagerly.

the kiss was heated and searing, pouring several days' worth of emotions into it and conveying them all wordlessly. you really knew each other well.

take a look at the menu - ,, 🍰 ·˚ ༘ ꒱

#moririki‧₊˚✩彡.🧺 #daiya no ace #ace of the diamond #diamond no ace #miyuki kazuya #kazuya miyuki #kuramochi yōichi #yōichi kuramochi #youichi kuramochi #kuramochi youichi #eijun sawamura #sawamura eijun #isashiki jun #jun isashiki #kominato haruichi #haruichi kominato #furuya satoru #satoru furuya #x reader #kuramochi x reader #kuramochi youichi x reader #miyuki kazuya x reader #sawamura eijun x reader #eijun sawamura x reader #isashiki jun x reader #haruichi kominato x reader #furuya satoru x reader #fluff‧₊˚✩彡.🕯 #request‧₊˚✩彡.🐇 #preference‧₊˚✩彡.⏳

[high-lady-of-earth]

Court of Nightmares

Azriel x Reader Oneshot

Summary: You and Azriel must go down to the Court of Nightmares. Afterwards, you find out that Az is a little insecure about his scars. This incorporates a prompt I received from @spaghettinoode1234

Hope you enjoy:)

You were the newest addition to the inner circle. You were a high fae, formerly a human, who had been Made during the war with Hybern.

You had a tenuous relationship with society after being alone for years in Hybern, so your residence had become the House of the Wind, which you actually enjoyed, unlike the others. Nesta had been glad to let you live with her and Cassian.

It was once again time for the Solstice and with it came presents. You had to buy presents for Feyre, Rhys, Elain, Mor, Armen, and Azriel. Nesta and Cassian were away on a mission. But with the solstice, came another, darker thing. The visit to the Court of Nightmares.

You were a sort of jammer when it came to magic. Your powers functioned to block the magic of others. With tensions rising in the Hewn City, Rhys wanted you and Azriel to pay Kier the annual visit.

Mor had informed you that Azriel wanted to go tonight, so you had to get your shopping out of the way today because solstice was tomorrow. Clad in a pair of loose pants and a long sleeved mesh top, you bundled up in a fur coat and winnowed to the Palace of Threads and Jewels.

Surveying the vendors, you looked for gifts for your friends. Rhys provided you with more money than you needed, so cost wasn’t an issue. You already had a rough idea of what you wanted to get for everyone. For Feyre and Rhysand, you wanted to find something for Nyx.

For Elain, you had seen a cart that sold rare flowers from the continent. They were roses, but enhanced with magic to sparkle in the daylight. Elain was working hard in the garden’s of Feyre and Rhys’ new house, and you knew they would look perfect on a trellis next to a fountain.

Mor was the easiest to shop for. You described an outfit to a tailor you wanted made and you were waiting for it to be finished. The ensemble consisted of a blouse, cropped to where the ribs ended, covered in thousands of glass beads. The skirt was the prettiest pink color with a slit up the side and an embroidered border made of glass beads at the top and bottom. Perhaps the most striking was the shawl, which drew on Eastern styles and was covered in the most beautiful embroidery and rhinestones. You had truly outdone yourself.

Armen was even easier. You had walked into Velaris’ most expensive jewelry store and had immediately found a something for Amren. It was a delicate necklace with a large stone in the middle. It was a red stone that changed color with the light, shifting between pink, red, and orange hues. You asked the lady what the stone was and learned that legend said it was a single scale from a dragon, given to the jeweler’s ancestor many thousands of years ago. The jeweler had decided to part with it suddenly after the war.

The last gift was for Azriel. You had absolutely no idea what to get him. He had saved your life, and you were head over heels for him, but it seemed as though there was a deep sadness to him. Mor had told Azriel that she preferred females, but he didn’t take it too well. He was still healing and you didn’t want to push him. Thus, you had no idea what was considered an appropriate gift.

You walked through the carts aimlessly, when suddenly an idea came to your mind. From experience, you knew that Azriel’s hands got ice cold. He couldn’t put on gloves because of his siphons. You would have someone make leather gloves lined with fur with an opening for his siphons. You asked a tailor to make the gloves and then started wandering again, looking for baby items.

You came across a cart selling baby jewelry and immediately found what you wanted to give Feyre and Rhys. It was a circlet, made of diamonds and onyx that represented the night court. It was beautiful and expertly crafted. The woman selling it told you it was one of a kind. She had not made any others to sell. You paid the woman in gold coins and gathered the rest of your presents. Then, you winnowed back to the House of Wind.

When you winnowed into the living room, you were startled by Azriel’s presence. He was sitting in chair, shrouded by darkness, looking at your intently. He held a box in his hands, which you knew contained the clothes you would have to wear.

“Time to go already?” You asked him.

“Indeed it is, Y/n.” He murmured. You loved the way Azriel’s voice was deep and smooth when he talked to you, making it almost sensual.

Azriel got up from the chair and banished his shadows to the edge of the room. You could now see his lean form without the darkness of the shadows. Azriel wore his Illyrian fighting leathers as well as his siphons. However, he had decided to forgo some of his armor, displaying enticing planes of his skin on his abdomen and back. You imagined how the muscles in his back would ripple as he walked.

Azriel approached you and gave you the box. He told you that he had brought Cerridwen and Nuala to help you get ready and that he would be waiting here, in the living room. You nodded and walked to your bedroom. Inside, were Cerridwen and Nuala with a steaming bath. They helped you strip off your clothes and then scrubbed your skin raw, rubbing in scented oils.

Once they had dried you off, they brought out your outfit. It was a midnight blue gauzy dress that was more conservative than Feyre’s Court of Nightmares outfit. You had to admit, the dress didn’t look bad at all. It had a plunging neckline that went down to the waist and two slits up the side of the dress that went up to your hips, but the opaque midnight fabric was overlaid with a translucent tulle blue fabric. Your legs were covered. Cerridwen put the dress on you and then Nuala sat you down to do your hair.

She blew it out, straightening it to get rid of the frizz, then she curled the edges. In the front, she grabbed some hair on each side and braided a thin strand, which she clipped in the back using a silver hair clip inlaid with midnight blue gems. Then, Nuala grabbed loose stones and threaded them into your hair.

Next, Cerridwen and Nuala worked on your makeup. They stayed simple, doing a smokey eye, eyeliner, and mascara for your eyes and a mauve berry lip gloss for your lips. They finished by dusting a silver shimmery powder over your cheeks. Cerridwen handed you a pair of silver strappy heels, which you put on and walked back to the living room.

Azriel looked up at you and your eyes met. For a split second, you thought you saw heat in his eyes, but it went away and you thought you might have imagined it.

“I’m giving you your solstice gift early, Y/n.” Azriel said, bringing out another large velvet box. He opened it to reveal several pieces of midnight blue jewelry, all the same color of his siphons.

“They’re all so beautiful.” You whispered to Azriel, looking up at him. He moved around to the back of you and helped you put on the necklace.

“They are nothing compared to you.” Azriel said. Your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t respond. You put on the dangling earrings and bracelets and ring.

“I’m ready to go.” You told Azriel. He stood behind you and put an arm around your waist, getting ready to fly you there.

“You remember the drill, right? You sit on my lap and tell me what people are thinking. Block their magic if you think they are a threat.”

“Yup. The whole Daemati drill.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around your waist and the two of you suddenly traveled through the fabric of space and time itself. The world whooshed around you and you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t get dizzy. Then, almost as suddenly as you disappeared, the throne room of the Hewn City materialized around you.

Azriel had winnowed the two of you onto the single throne on the dais, Feyre’s throne absent since it was only Azriel presiding over the court today. Rhysand had even give Azriel permission to sit on the throne. You had been positioned on top of Azriel’s strong thighs, the thin fabric of your dress allowing you to feel his heat even through his thick Illyrian leathers.

Kier stood in front of the throne, along with about fifty other people. The room was dark, only a few strategically-placed fae lights provided light. This, however, suited Azriel because his shadows could run rampant.

“Welcome to the Hewn City, General.” Kier said in a pleasant tone that undoubtedly was laced with venom underneath. Nobody here wanted to bow to the beautiful male she perched on top of. They disregarded the Illyrian heritage that made him so powerful. So awe-inspiring.

Azriel gave Kier a bored look as if to say get on with it. Kier flicked his glance to you and paused. Azriel’s arm moved around your waist and stopped so that his fingers grazed your hip.

“Who, if I may ask, is this?” Kier asked. You swallowed some fear. Mor’s father had taken an interest in you — not a good sign. You stilled and became stiff against Azriel. His other hand snaked around to rest on top of your thigh. A mark of ownership clear to Kier and the rest of the court.

“She isn’t anyone special. Just a new one to grace my arm today.” Azriel said with cold steel in his voice. You knew Azriel’s words were lies for the court, but it still stung to be called a nobody. The others looked like they believed Azriel, but Kier didn’t. He silently noted how Azriel’s hand had moved to your thigh, almost like a warning.

You knew that Kier wasn’t fooled by your pathetic act and could tell something else was going on here. You cursed inside your head — you desperately needed to do something. You used your power to push a little at the dark sleek walls of Azriel’s mental defenses. He noted your presence and let you in.

“Kier isn’t buying the act.” You said inside his head. “We need to be more convincing.”

You pulled out of Azriel’s mind as his hand, the one on your waist, moved to the neckline of your gown. He began to toy with it, the only indication that he had understood your words.

You could feel Azriel’s callused fingers through the flimsy fabric of your dress. His hand moved over your right breast, and you sucked in a breath as his fingers grazed over your chest.

“You’re doing great, Y/n.” Azriel whispered in your ear. The hand on your thigh inched closer and closer to your core, and you felt yourself flush with embarrassment. You were frozen in place, watching Kier, who’s expression slackened as he undoubtedly scented your very real arousal, and along with it, banished any doubts about you being a threat.

Inwardly, you were mortified, but you didn’t let it show. Azriel’s fingers finally reached your inner thigh, where they played with the fabric of your dress.

“So, Kier, how goes the operations down here?” Azriel asked in his deadly voice. You didn’t hear Kier’s response because Azriel’s hand had suddenly began to rub circles through your dress. You couldn’t concentrate on anything and you felt Azriel stiffen behind you.

You went back into Azriel’s mind. “Everyone is good. Nobody’s plotting anything.” You said. Azriel gave a slight nod.

“Kier, you may go. I’m done with you for today.” Azriel said, dismissing him from the throne room. The hall bustled with activity as other members of the Hewn City moved around. You felt Azriel’s lips on your ear before he began to speak, his fingers once again teasing you through your dress.

“Y/n, I can barely concentrate on everyone’s words. Your scent is overpowering and it’s getting difficult to fight my own instincts. I should fly you back to the House of Wind.” He stated in a husky voice.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll stay with you. Don’t fight it, Azriel.” You said.

“I won’t be able to control myself, Y/n.” He replied. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as Azriel said that. You already had your answer though. In response to him, you moved one of your hands on top of Azriel’s, the one playing with the neckline of your dress. You closed your fingers over his hand and gently moved it to your heart, which was beating furiously in your chest.

You felt the world darken around you as shadows enclosed yours and Azriel’s bodies. The world spun for a few seconds, but it mercifully stopped as you arrived in the House of Wind. Azriel’s winnowing sometimes made you dizzy.

You were so close to Azriel that your chests were almost touching. Your gaze moved from his eyes to his lips and you could palpably feel the room go warmer. Instinctively, you knew that Azriel’s own eyes had moved down to your lips too. It would be so easy to lean forward an inch and press your mouth against his.

You closed your eyes as the tension between you two simmered and waited for the searing kiss Azriel would place on your lips. But you were left with a gust of brisk, cool air instead. You opened your eyes, but only to see that Azriel had turned away from you and started waking. You felt the anger rise up in you as you took a step after him and grabbed his shoulder.

“You do not get to pull that stunt down there and then ignore me, Azriel.” You huffed. He didn’t even turn around.

“Was it true? Am I just some eye candy that you brought along? Do you not even care about how that made me feel?” You questioned. You saw Azriel bristle, and a part of you was satisfied that he responded.

“Of course you mean something to me, Y/n. That’s why we can’t.” He whispered.

You stepped in front of Azriel and placed your hands on your hips.

“I don’t see how refraining from kissing me shows that you care about me.” You pointed out. Azriel looked away from you, towards the floor.

“I-I’m not a good guy, Y/n. You deserve someone who’s better than I am. Someone who is just a perfect and beautiful as you are.” He said. In the corner of your eyes, you saw Azriel tuck his hands into his pockets.

You quickly reached your hands into his pockets and curled your fingers around his hand. Then, you brought out his hands.

“You know that being perfect doesn’t matter to me. Your scars are beautiful, Azriel. If you don’t believe me about that, then at least believe that they give you character.” You replied.

Azriel looked unsure, so you brought his hands to you face and gently set your lips on his palms, tracing the scar tissue with kisses.

“I think you’re handsome and beautiful and perfect— scars and all.” You whispered.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel x reader #azriel #court of nightmares #acotar fanfiction #a court of wings and embers #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #feyre x rhysand #feysand #nessian #nesta x cassian #elain archeron #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #cassian #morrigan #amren x varian #amren #varian #lucien #elucien #elain x lucien

[nightingaelic]

Fallout 4 companions react to meeting Arcade Gannon?

Ever the curious neighbor, as soon as the sole survivor spotted the blonde, bespectacled man at the bar in the Dugout Inn, they drifted over and struck up a conversation. A drink or two later, the two were swapping tales about wasteland encounters, pointing at various holes in their travel clothes and pairing them up with fantastic backstories. When the sole survivor's companion finally swung open the door, they were given an inviting wave.

"Sit down!" the sole survivor encouraged them. "First round's on me. I'd like you to meet Arcade."

Cait: "Hiya handsome." Cait winked at the man in the lab coat and leaned on the bar. "I'm Cait. Never seen you around before. Where is it you're comin' from?"

"I, uh..." Arcade adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his wavy hair. "West of here. Nowhere in particular."

"A free spirit, then? Just passin' through?" Cait looked him up and down. "Think the Science! Center might be lookin' for a new egghead, if those clothes aren't just for show."

Arcade tugged on his outfit self-consciously. "I thought it might keep Commonwealth raiders from shooting me on sight, if they thought I was a doctor."

Cait bobbed her head in a noncommittal way. "Or they might see you as an easy target. That is, if they don't spot that plasma pistol you've got in your back pocket."

Codsworth: "Hello to you, sir!" Codsworth exclaimed, bobbing excitedly. "Codsworth, at your service. Might I say, it is a fine occasion to meet someone nowadays who appreciates the importance of good hygience and care for one's appearance."

"Thank you," Arcade said, with a somewhat quizzical glance at the sole survivor. "And you belong to..."

"Well, I belong to him just as much as he belongs to me," the sole survivor jumped in to explain.

Codsworth waved them off. "Not to worry, the conventional assumptions are not unwarranted. I am happy to accompany and assist in wasteland adventures as necessary. When not necessary, I typically clean the house."

Curie: "Monsieur Arcade," Curie purred, with the special enthusiasm she reserved for introductions. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. You can call me Curie. Have you been in Diamond City long?"

"Not long at all," Arcade replied, clearly intrigued by Curie's accent. “Parlez-vous français?"

"Oui, Monsieur!" Curie exclaimed. "Le français est si rare de nos jours. Où avez-vous appris?"

"Oh, um... des... des livres, principalement," Arcade stammered. "Books. It's not as good as my Latin, I'm sorry."

"Latin?" Curie switched gears instantly. "Etiam magis rara."

Arcade laughed. "Well, not where I'm from. Who are you? Linguists are practically unicorns, nowadays."

Curie sighed. "It is a long story. Perhaps we wait until Vadim brings the drinks, and we can compare notes?"

Danse: "Ad victoriam, Arcade." Paladin Danse shook the newcomer's hand with gusto. "Paladin Danse, with the Brotherhood of Steel."

Arcade's eyes narrowed. "Brotherhood of Steel?"

"That's correct, citizen," Danse replied proudly.

"Uh-huh." Arcade looked back to the sole survivor. "I had no idea they were in the area. Are you stationed in Diamond City?"

"Brotherhood operations are a strictly classified matter," Danse answered, furrowing his brow. "But our main base of operations is at the Boston airport, where the Prydwen is docked. You can't miss it."

"Well, that explains it." Arcade examined his drink, avoiding eye contact with the Paladin. "I didn't come in from the north. I'm sure it's a sight to see."

Deacon: "Nice to meet you." Deacon declined the handshake, instead crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side. "Nice tan. Been on the road long?"

"Too long," Arcade replied, retracting his hand and returning the calculated look.

Deacon grinned. "Alright, I won't pry. Welcome to Diamond City. Did Vadim try to poison you yet?"

"You watch it, John Doe!" Vadim shot back from halfway down the bar. "Or I call the guards, see if you actually do work the midnight shift, ya?"

"You can walk down to Danny's sign-up sheet for shifts and check yourself!" Deacon's grin grew wider. "And I'll tend bar. We'll see who can do a better job of it."

Dogmeat: Dogmeat approached the man's open hand, which he gave a good sniff. Soap, hot dust, a whiff of plasma cartridges: Nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied, the dog opened his mouth to pant, tongue lolling, and accepted the scratch behind the ears.

Hancock: "Arcade, huh?" Hancock gave the man a winning smile and took one of the open stools. "I'm Hancock. First time in Diamond City? You're gonna love it here. Vadim and his brother really know how to knock you on the floor."

As if to demonstrate, Vadim delivered three shots of Bobrov's Best to the little group. "On the house," he offered. "Celebrating Mayor Hancock's newest business deal with yours truly."

Hancock threw his back, and when Arcade hesitated, he threw that shot back too. "Next one, buddy."

"Did he say Mayor Hancock?" Arcade asked. "Mayor of Diamond City?"

"Nah, nah." Hancock laughed. "God, wouldn't that be a riot. Ever hear of a town called Goodneighbor?"

MacCready: "Arcade." MacCready shook the man's hand warily. "Like the pre-war places that have a whole bunch of games inside them?"

"Actually, like the..." Arcade made a face. "You know what, never mind. Like the pre-war arcades, yeah."

"Oh, man." MacCready grinned. "There was this one I found once in the Capital Wasteland, mostly broken down of course, but it had one working machine in it. The Red Menace Whac-a-Commie. Someone took the whackers ages ago, but the little Red Menace guys still popped up and down. Duncan- my son- loved it."

Arcade chuckled. "Yeah, they're... they're fun. I found a Hoop Shot once, but the basketballs were all dried-up and flat."

"Gotta get yourself a Pip-Boy," MacCready replied, nudging the sole survivor's shoulder affectionately. "This one has a collection of mini-games for theirs. Atomic Command, Grognak & the Ruby Ruins, Pipfall... all the greats. Oh, I'm MacCready, by the way."

Valentine: "Nick Valentine. Pleased to meet you." Nick shook the man's extended hand with practiced warmth, giving him time to realize the metal grasp he offered was not a cybernetic, and the scar around his jawline was actually just where his synthetic skin ended.

True to form, the stranger's eyebrows shot up, his grip slackened and his mouth dropped open. "You're a... what are you?"

Nick gave him the standard line. "I'm a detective. But, if you're referring to the plastic and platinum bits, I'm also a synthetic man. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells."

"Whoa." Instead of the typical scramble to put some distance between the two of them, Nick was surprised to find Arcade's handshake tighten again at this explanation. "I've heard of people like you, but never thought I'd actually meet one. Er, well, one that was obviously living as a synth. Though I guess you don't have much of a choice, huh?"

Piper: "Arcade? Piper Wright." The reporter shook the newcomer's hand firmly. "So, what's your story? What brings you to the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth?"

"I uh..." Arcade looked flustered, despite Piper's encouraging smile.

The sole survivor came to his defense. "Leave him be, Piper, he just got into town," they scolded playfully.

"What?" Piper asked innocently. "Can't the town reporter ask questions around here without everyone telling me I'm being too nosy?"

"No."

"Town reporter?" Arcade perked up. "Is that your newspaper, on the way in? Public... something?"

"Publick Occurrences," Piper answered with pride. "Covering anything and everything worth hearing about that happens in the Commonwealth."

Preston: "Welcome to Diamond City, Arcade." Preston shook the man's hand warmly. "I'm Preston Garvey with the Commonwealth Minutemen."

"Minutemen?" Arcade asked, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

"We're citizen soldiers," Preston explained. "The people of the Commonwealth banding together to protect ourselves and decide our own future."

"So sort of like a free state?" Arcade straightened up. "Or do you have some kind of command structure?"

"Command structure." Preston chuckled and glanced at the sole survivor. "You're looking at it."

Strong: "Strong need to get moving," the super mutant replied, rubbing his big hands together. "Milk of human kindness not here."

Arcade took the mutant in with the air of someone who had dealt with somewhat-friendly specimens before. "I can ask the bartender if they have brahmin milk."

The sole survivor waved him off. "No, that's not what he-"

"Puny humans do not have milk!" Strong cut in.

"Wait, milk of human kindness?" Arcade looked confused. "Is that... Macbeth?"

The sole survivor sighed. "It's a long story."

X6-88: "Good afternoon." Rather than sit down, X6-88 adopted a protective stance of the sole survivor, completely ignoring the hand Arcade was offering. "I hope you know that if harm comes to this individual, your life will come to a swift end."

"Uh-huh." Arcade retracted his hand. "Bodyguard?"

"Of a sort."

Arcade turned to the sole survivor instead. "Is he always this much of a stick in the mud?"

They shrugged. "He's protective and slow to trust. Give him a bit and keep your hands where he can see them, you'll be fine."

X6-88 nodded. "Affirmative."

BONUS!

Ada: "Hello sir." Ada nodded her head in greeting. "I am Ada. I hope you are enjoying your stay in Diamond City. Did you experience any trouble getting to the stadium?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Arcade replied. "Sorry, you're an amalgamation I haven't seen before. Sentry bot and protectron parts for sure, but your head is..."

"An assaultron," Ada filled in helpfully. "I take it your region does not have many of these bots?"

"No, they seem to be more of an East Coast thing."

"Just don't get on her bad side," the sole survivor joked. "You don't want to be on the receiving end of an assaultron laser."

Gage: "Well hi there!" Porter shook Arcade's hand forcefully. "Porter Gage. Talked you into trying some of this swill, did they? Brave soul."

"It's not so bad," Arcade replied with a smirk.

"Oh sure, if you're lucky enough to have Scarlett bring it to you." Porter winked at the waitress, who paused in her service to flip him the bird.

"Mmm, not my type," Arcade admitted.

"Not your ty-" Porter blurted before putting two and two together. "Oh, gotcha. Well, there's always Hawthorne."

The raider waved to the adventurer in the corner, who waved back. Arcade sank as deeply into his stool as he could and blushed.

Longfellow: "Mmm." Old Longfellow rejected Arcade's handshake and took the offered seat, swinging around to face the bar. "Storm's comin' soon. Can smell it."

"Then it's a good thing we're inside," Arcade replied, his tone unsure.

Longfellow grunted his agreement and accepted the drink Vadim slid to him, downing it quickly.

The sole survivor scowled at him. "Guess he's not in a talkative mood today."

Maxson: "Elder Arthur Maxson of the East Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Maxson shook Arcade's hand confidently.

Arcade, on the other hand, looked like he was being violently pulled between an instinct to flee and an intense curiosity. Curiosity won out. "Maxson? Of the line of Captain Roger Maxson?"

"High Elder Roger Maxson," the Elder corrected him. "You know of him?"

"Well sure, everybody on the West Co-" Arcade stopped himself. "Never mind. What's an Elder doing in a dive like this?"

Maxson studied him intently, clearly sizing him up. "Shore leave," he finally answered, sliding into the offered seat.

Desdemona: Desdemona smiled coolly. "I know."

The answer took Arcade aback, but the sole survivor just rolled their eyes. "Dispense with the power plays for once, Dez. We're just trying to have a drink."

The Railroad leader raised an eyebrow, but she sat down. "Suit yourself. When did you arrive in town, Mr. Gannon?"

"Oh, for the love of..."

Arcade eyed her suspiciously. "I don't remember telling you my full name."

Desdemona lit up a cigarette. "You didn't. But I'm by far the friendliest person in the Commonwealth who's wondering why a Follower of the Apocalypse is all the way out here, across the continent."

#why is arcade in the commonwealth? #beats me #probably beats Arcade too #let's blame the courier somehow #fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout new vegas #fnv #arcade gannon #arcade israel gannon #cait #curie #danse #paladin danse #deacon #hancock #mayor hancock #john hancock #maccready #robert joseph maccready #nick valentine #piper wright #preston garvey #x6-88 #porter gage #old longfellow #elder maxson #arthur maxson #maxson

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea- Matthew Tkachuk (20)

all parts here

“It’s about fucking time!” 

“Holy shit, he finally did it!” 

“Go, Chucky, get your girl!”

The shouts from the team when they saw the two of you together were as loud as ever and everyone seemed to be celebrating.

“We’re still just friends,” you reminded Matthew and removed his arms from your waist.

“I know,” he shouted after you as you quickly skated away from him.

“So shut your friends up!”

You’d just told yourself that it didn’t matter what the team and their families thought but seeing them, and hearing them cheer on whatever was happening with you and Matthew had you trying to put as much space between the two of you as possible. 

It was easy to think about the two of you when you were alone in a hotel room with one bed, or were in only ones in the hallway at work, or anywhere else where it was just you and him but letting everyone else in wasn’t something you were ready for. You weren’t sure you would ever be ready for it, because it would mean actually letting your guard down. Not just with Matthew, but with everyone around the both of you and thought of doing so wasn’t something you could see yourself doing anytime soon.

You could never picture a time in your life where it was acceptable for Matthew Tkachuk to wrap his arms around you or pull you into a kiss with his teammates and your bosses surrounding you and easily supporting it like it was nothing. 

 The room was starting to get hot and your skates were bothering you. Scanning the wood rink, you found Matthew at the other end fucking around with a few of the guys.  His team, his friends were here now. That meant you probably didn’t need to be, and you doubted he’d notice if you slipped out and took an Uber home. 

*

“Have you seen the girl I came in with, before everybody else got here?”

Matthew had gotten a little too caught up in spending some off time with the guys that he kind of abandoned her. He hoped she was off somewhere socializing with someone else and wouldn’t be be bothered. After checking the entire place and speaking to a bunch of people who claimed they hadn’t seen her in a while, he found himself talking to the girl behind the skate rental counter. 

“She left, turned in her skates like twenty-five minutes ago.”

“What? Did she happen to say why?”

“Nope, just gave back her skates, told me to have a good day and headed out.”

His head was spinning and his feelings were more than a little hurt. They were having fun before everyone else arrived, at least he thought so. What had changed?

“You good, man?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

Matthew replaced his skates with his shoes and set them underneath the table. He couldn’t just leave what was supposed to be a team event, but he needed to know what happened and stepped outside to make the phone call.

Her phone rang twice before she answered. 

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. What the fuck?”

It came out angrier than intended but fine, maybe he was a little angry. 

“What?”

“You just bailed on me. Why?”

“I just assumed now that everyone was there you’d want to spend time with them. You rarely get to do fun stuff like this with them so I just figured..”

“I get to skate with them everyday. It’s literally my job. I wanted to spend time with you,” he paused for a second to recover, “as friends, obviously.”

At least the first part was true. 

“Oh.”

Oh? That was all she had to say?

“Well, I need to get back inside so I guess I’ll just see you when I see you.” 

“Ok,” he was too irritated and hurt to notice that her voice had gone just a little bit softer. 

*

Matthew ended the call without saying goodbye and you knew you fucked up. He hadn’t been paying much attention to you though, and he looked like he was having so much fun, and maybe you were a little scared that people would get the wrong idea if you hung around him the entire time. 

That’s what friends did though, right? Spent time together? You knew you couldn’t go back to the rollerskating rink and face him, but you knew you couldn’t leave things the way they were. 

His phone went to voicemail after the normal amount of ringing, which you figured would happen. He definitely wasn’t going to be waiting around for you to get in touch with him after ditching the hangout. 

“Look Matt,” you went casual hoping it would soften him a bit, “I’m really sorry I left. I honestly didn’t think you’d be mad but clearly I was wrong. If I’m being honest, this thing happening between us is the most confusing relationship, if you can even call it that, that I’ve ever had and I’m having a really hard time navigating it. Again, I’m sorry for ditching you. I guess I’ll see you at work. I hope you still have fun today.”

++

You were pretty deep into the second season of “The Circle” and a ten piece spicy nuggets from Wendy’s when your phone vibrated. It was a text from Matthew and you were scared to read it. 

So you decided not to, not yet anyway. Hopping off the couch, you headed into the kitchen and poured yourself a considerable glass of wine and downed it like it was a shot of tequila, and then you did it a second time. After that, you grabbed the barely touched bottle of tequila from your cabinet and poured yourself a shot, tossing it back with no chaser. 

It was too much at once but you got comfortably tipsy pretty quickly and decided that it was time to open his message. 

Get out of your fucking head and just hang out with me. We’re trying to be friends, not work out how to handle an arranged marriage. I’ll be home tonight, head up if you want

If he was offering, who were you not to take him up on it?

*

Someone was pounding entirely too aggressively on Matthew’s door and he had an idea of who it might be.

“Jesus, I have neighbors!” 

Matthew pulled her into his apartment and shut the door behind them. He noticed her slightly glazed eyes and the silly smile on her lips, “why are you only cool with me when you’re drunk?”

“I’m not drunk,” she defended, “just nicely tipsy.”

“Come on,” he lead her into the kitchen and thrust a bottle of water into her hands, “drink this.”

“Fine,” she huffed but did it anyway and he couldn’t deny how cute he thought that was. 

She downed the water and seemed to be a little more stable but he wasn’t sure.

“You want to come watch TV with me?”

“Depends, what are you watching?” 

“The Circle.”

“Which season?!” 

She lit up at his response and fuck, that was fucking adorable too.

“Second season, you watch it?”

“Yes! I’m on the tenth episode!”

“I’m only on the second, do you mind watching stuff you’ve already seen?”

“Not at all, I love this show!”

She fell asleep with her head on his chest within twenty minutes and he didn’t dare try and move her so he continued watching the episodes in the same position and finally let himself fall asleep when Netflix asked if he was ‘still watching?’

*

You woke up on a couch you didn’t recognize with your head on a chest you weren’t familiar with. It wasn’t until you stretched your arms and your hand slid into a mess of curls that you realized where you were. 

“Fuck,” his voice was heavy with sleep, “you’re going to have to fuck me if you want to pull my hair like that.”

“Shit,” he was up quickly and practically shoving you off of him, “I didn’t mean that.”

“Jesus, Matthew,” you chuckled at the expression on his face and stood up from the couch to stretch, “this is the worst couch I’ve ever slept on. I thought you had money?” 

“Shut up.”

He ran a hand through his curls as he stood up and you couldn’t stop yourself from watching. Matthew was only dressed in a pair of basketball shorts that hung low on his hips. You counted his abs and wished you had been sober when you slept on them because then you could have truly appreciated them. 

“Eyes on mine,” a smug smile sat on his lips, “you’ve had plenty of looks, no more until you’re willing to return the favor.” 

Matthew Tkachuk was an irritating, annoying pest and an overall pain the fucking ass but he was lovely to look at and you’d always known it. If he could be a scandalous flirt, so could you.

“I could say the same to you. Your eyes have been below my neck since we got up and I think it has something to do with the tank top and shorts I’m wearing.”

He was standing in front of you now, his chest less than an inch from yours and the sexual tension radiating off the two of you was strong enough to cut diamond. 

“I’m looking respectfully,” he commented, “I respect the fact that you are beautiful and that I don’t just want to be your friend. I, respectfully, want so much more than that.” 

There it was fucking was. Matthew didn’t want to be your friend, and you didn’t want to be his either. 

“I’m going to, respectfully, tell you that I don’t want to be your friend either. Also, respectfully, I’d like you to ruin me, Matthew Tkachuk.”

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye IV — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Three days passed since their reconciliation and it felt as if the layer of ice around them finally melted into a somewhat comforting warmth. Mornings rose with an innocent conversation on their jobs except Jungkook tried to keep things discreet while they were eating. Nights ended in peaceful slumber, on the few occasions where Belle would sleep on his chest or Jungkook hugged her from behind.

The heavy pit in her stomach elated soon after a couple of decent sleeps. Especially now that the designing process for the Spring Line was almost over. Madame Saitos’ dresses were incredibly rare because each piece of clothing was handmade save for a few trips on the sewing machine. Which is why the designing process comes with a time restraint to ensure that the most raw ideas spewed onto the paper. Of course tweaks here and there would always be required but that time limit created some of Saito’s most prestigious fashion museum worthy designs.

Since Belle designed around half of the finalized line, she would handmake her own designs and the news alone could keep her happy for the rest of the year. After losing an opportunity to see her designs on the runway a tear almost jerked in her eye getting that chance again.

Secretly though her favourite design she made this month was the satin white suit for her ever fashionably selective ‘boyfriend’. Belle saw the kind of suits in his wardrobe, burgundy velvet, black with golden vectors, silk deep blue and over half of them were Saitos’ original designs. She knew that this suit had to match the standard of his entire wardrobe.

This morning Belle stood in front of an ironing board, briefly smoothing out the textures of the newly designed trouser ensuring that minimal pressure was placed. Glasses slightly slipped down her nose with her hair in a loose bun. Her body draped in a fitted black long sleeve tucked into a khaki green midi skirt and a short scarf tied around her neck.

The woman had enough time out of her work schedule to showcase the suit himself. Especially since ‘Jeon Jungkook preferred private deliveries’ as Saito would say with a playful roll of her eyes.

From what she observed Jungkook came back to the mansion for a lunch time refresh and almost right on the minute, the sound of a car stopping rung in her ears. Something fluttered in her heart knowing whose footsteps grew louder as the corner of her lips curled up when the familiar male showed himself, a small smile directed towards her.

Jungkook muttered a few words about the car to one of the guards before walking towards her while the pants now laid out on the ironing board neatly. “You’re working at home?” Hands dug into his pockets, eyes flickered down to the soft white pants.

Belle smiled with a bright glint in her gaze before turning around and grabbing the open box. “I wanted to give it you properly but—” Partially bandaged fingers hovered over the fabric of the freshly ironed jacket folded with care inside the box. “Do you want to try it?”

Something jolted inside him seeing the woman look over at him that he couldn’t quite describe in any sentence. But he nodded nonetheless. Shrugging off his own blazer, Jungkook kept a close eye on the graceful way she brought the long back suit out displaying it in front of him first. The corners of his lips instantly curled seeing the familiar winged design on the back, similar color to the whole suit except it had a sheen like texture that glistened when brought into the light. A design that resembled one animal he admired the most next to dogs. “Phoenix wings?”

The girl nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah. It’s the first time I’m making a suit for you so–I wanted it to be personal.”

Her voice had turned so sweet in the past few days that Jungkook could melt by the sound at this point.

Belle walked closer and draped the blazer around him, letting his arms into the sleeves before it perfectly lay on his shoulders. As distracting as the measuring session was the woman managed to make the fitting as close as possible. “Is it comfortable?” When the male agreed, she felt a sense of accomplishment burst through her. Saito had her make and mend suits all the time when she was not named a ‘designer’ but somehow knowing this one was done well allowed for a tiny celebration in her belly.

Jungkook watched her beautiful eyes light up, that strange jolt sparking inside him again which he ignored for the time being. “I want to give you something too.” He glanced down at the magnificent blazer before looking up at her.

“What is it?” Belle watched him carefully shrug off the suit so the entire outfit could be placed neatly for the event it’s meant for.

Gentle hand wrapped around hers, Jungkook led her upstairs to their shared bedroom.

Once they reached the area Belle was made to wait on the bed while the male rushed into the walk-in wardrobe. The only thing she could make out properly were the sounds of rummaging through clothes and slight slamming of something wooden. Then his figure appeared again holding a small deep red velvet box in his hand. As soon as her eyes reached the object, her heart hammered before her mind could even catch up. It didn’t take an expert to assume what might lay inside the box as she had seen many like it for one particular occasion.

“I know it looks daunting.” Jungkook reassured as if sensing the thoughts rushing inside her mind. “A lot of deals tend to have paper contracts which we will get at some point.” He padded closer before kneeling down completely in front of her while she sat on the edge, his arms brushing against her knees. “But for now—I want to give you this. As a promise that I’ll never pull the rug from under you…ever. This agreement is as solid as the pillars of this mansion. Nothing will ever happen to it.”

Like a thin paper ripped out from her eyes Belle faced her true reality staring down at the now open box, showcasing a glimmering diamond ring. Growing up the woman had been one of those people who believed marriage was a sacred bond. A promise that two people would stay loyally and happily together till the end of their comforting days. Jungkook showed no sign of being disloyal nor did Belle feel any deep sense of unhappiness in these few days. Looking at the truth behind the veil seemed naïve in this situation knowing it would only make their ordeal miserable all over again. She couldn’t afford to be miserable now. Taehyung was getting better, taking his medicine and moving to become a better man and she had to stay strong to ensure that happened. He deserved to come out happier from all this just as much as she did.

So she smiled down at the male seeing a comforting shine in the ring now. Perhaps a sign of hope rather than some sensationalized sacred bond. “Which finger should I put it on?”

Jungkook chuckled, pulling the ring out and gently taking her left hand. In no manner of hesitation the ring was softly placed on her fourth finger fitted to near perfection. “I borrowed one of your rings to get the fit.”

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered. Her hand absentmindedly reached out to caress the skin under his white collar feeling a slight warmth. Leaning in, Belle pressed a tender kiss just on the corner of his lips before pulling away.

His breath choked in his damn throat feeling her soft lips; his hands almost wanting to caress every inch of her skin and forget about the rest of the days’ work. Though Jungkook respected that Belle understood they couldn’t. No matter how amazing the idea sounded. He merely let out a slightly shaky sigh before giving the beauty a smile. Unfortunately he had to look back at the watch knowing there was a meeting looming in the next half hour almost leaving an empty feeling in his gut. “I have to go back to work.”

Belle nodded, snapping herself back to reality. “I have to go too.”

Hesitantly unlocking their joined hands they both went to their separate locations for the rest of the work-day.

-

Another two days went by in a blissful rush as Jungkook and Belle grew friendlier towards each other to the point where they would even share laughter through jokes from work or childhood life. Belle found out that his mother worked at a magazine company in Beijing while his father ran the investment companies in the US. They were very hands-off parents when he was growing up so his aunt practically adopted and raised him which is why his personality differed greatly from his father. Though his tactics in this business were heavily influenced by him.

Jungkook discovered her parents had been more fond of a son than a daughter so she had to jump through a lot more hoops to be good in their eyes. Eventually it never worked, Taehyung took care of her most of her life so far. That is until her parents were killed in an accidental explosion at their place of work which led to her older brothers’ downfall. Belle’s uncle and aunt tried to take care of him from time to time while she worked at the boutique until at some point they grew tired of babysitting a drug addict.

The two never really had a person to truly share mixed feelings about their upbringing. Even if Belle had Taehyung, he would always somehow reel back and tell her that their parents loved them both equally. Which she knew fully well was not true no matter how much it felt comforting to believe it.

Though the deep conversations usually faded back into playful serenity again now more comfortable with each other’s presence than ever before.

In came the day of the garden party.

Belle dressed herself in a baby blue midi dress, the overlay adorned with the same colored flowers on a sheer material trailing down to touch her knees, crème colored hat to finish it off. The second event she was going to with Jungkook but this time no sense of dread passed through her nor any stress. In fact the woman wanted to see Jungkooks’ aunt wearing the gorgeous dress she chose for the occasion. And Jungkook wearing his own custom made suit.

A similar routine where she walked down the stairs while the white-suited male gave some instructions to the guards possibly about keeping an eye on the mansion while they were away. Then he turned to face her once she reached the center of the living room, a soft smile immediately tugging at the corner of her lips.

The extremely aware corner of her mind now buried itself under all the elation developed through the past few days. Some part already knew that this was a ruse. Jungkook was successfully gaining everything he asked for without barely lifting a finger and Belle truly had no valid choice to disagree. Though if that thought swirled around in her head for too long, it would start aching and this whole experience could fade into torture again.

Perhaps there was a comfort in pretending that his hand intertwined with hers radiated comfort rather than entrapment. The guards bowing to them and leading them into the car showed a sign of protection rather than no means of escape. Jungkook might think the woman a pawn but that did not mean she was one.

From where she sat in the car shoulder pressed to him and hands still linked, Belle imagined herself to sit at the far end of the chess board rather than the front as a mere pawn.

Once they reached the garden party the couple was welcomed with a vibrant burst of nature, people in colorful dress and bright suits floating through the bushes like pixies. Occasionally a photographer or two flashed their camera towards them but hardly anything intimidating like the previous event. Eyes almost immediately flickered over to them when they walked out of the car. Holding Jungkooks’ hand actually provided some kind of comfort knowing she was not alone and exposed to all these people.

Bushes shaped to represent different safari animals, crowds of pink, white and red roses all around coupled with fragrant jasmines and chrysanthemums. The garden looked almost endless from the sides. Belle noticed the large cherry and peach blossoms, little petals falling gracefully and a gorgeous mansion to pull the whole picture together. The building adorned a taupe sandstone with golden detailing similar to Jungkooks’ estate except aged a bit more.

“Darlings!” Boyoungs’ voice rung in her ears as the woman bounced towards the couple wearing a royal purple midi dress with some matching wrist gloves and a floral hat to top it off. Purple tinted lips stretched out in a bright smile, hugging the both of them with the same enthusiasm.

The older female led them to the main table where her husband sat with a few other family friends who welcomed her with an intrigued smile. Sitting under the shade of the laced line umbrella provided some cool away from the warm sun while they were served tea.

Boyoungs’ eyes immediately flickered towards the shining diamond around Belle’s finger and a small gasp caught in her throat. “Oh you proposed!” Her announcement ripped through the entire group and onto a few others outside of the umbrella as a rush of cheer passed on like a infection.

Belle merely smiled with her gaze fixed on the rose tea while Jungkook chuckled nervously. She hoped they would not ask for a romantic proposal story but they all seemed to just pat the young male on the back. Some of the ladies asked what kind of cut it was which the girl gave an answer from observation. It didn’t take long for her to realize that most of these people were probably arranged to marry. So the idea of any romantic story would be useless to them even though Belle and Jungkook were supposed to be a ‘love’ marriage.

Somehow the lack of her own froufrou story made it easier and harder to sit at the table. Belle politely listened to stories of awkward marriage arrangement along with an attempt to sound less hostile towards each other. For a minute she prided in being so good at pretending that her marriage was happy and full of light.

Though the pretense became exhausting really quickly. Her posture began to falter as her rose tea reached the end of its fill and the shade from the sun created cloud over her mind.

“Excuse me.” Belle spoke as gently as she could to the crowd. “I’m going to take a stroll.” She smiled getting up from the chair, chest feeling a little constricted.

Jungkook watched her in slight concern when she excused herself. Truthfully nothing about this conversation comforted him either. The whole idea of marriage, especially one that came from a business arrangement didn’t spark happy stories and it was a situation that some attendees at the table could relate to. The only thing he could do as a sign of comfort was touch her hand lightly which she squeezed in response before he watched her walk deeper into the gardens.

-

A couple of minutes passed and Jungkook grew tired of the conversations bubbling between his family friends so his eyes wandered to other attendees. Eventually his eyes set on one particular male, simple black suit with a silver necklace around his neck and blue lens glasses over his eyes.

Excusing himself from the table politely, he walked over to where the other male had been examining the jasmines. A few colorful pixies rolled in front of him and giggled when he gave them way until finally he was able to come close to a more reassuring face. Well second most reassuring to the one that just glazed through the gardens on her own.

“Didn’t know you were so fond of nature.” Jungkook smirked standing next to him.

“Well a lot of my supplies come from plants.” He shrugged, eyes merely scanning over the flowers and trees not really focusing on anything in particular.

“Technically they’re my supplies but sure.” He dug his hands into his jacket pockets, attention trailing and silently searching for a familiar blue dress. “Anything to report?” It was a regular, almost absentminded question at this point whenever he saw the male since he was responsible for most of the sells around this area.

Hoseok took a generous sip of tea before wincing as he stared at the decorative cup. “Rose tea tastes like piss.” He cleared his throat, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Everything’s fine so far. Clients are rolling in payments from all corners, some even paid in advance to ensure secrecy.” He placed the tea cup on one of the vacant tables before looking out in the gardens again. “Except a few regulars like Kim Taehyung still hasn’t paid.”

“I told he already paid all his previous payments.” Jungkook shook his head, brows furrowing.

“What about the one the five days ago?”

The younger male had to connect the dots for a few seconds as his forehead knitted. “Five days ago? He’s been in rehab for almost a fortnight.”

Hoseok shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it’s working. I remember all my sells.” He rolled his eyes a little. “Well I kinda just give it to Taehyung instead of sell.”

“You do know I could kill you for doing things like that, right?” Anger bubbled right up to his throat except not directed towards Hoseok.

“Hey you’re the one who told me to give younger clients a break.” He defended.

“I know.” Jungkook had the strong urge to tell him that Taehyung already paid the biggest price of all strolling around the cherry blossoms. “Don’t sell it to him anymore.” He ordered simply.

“What?”

“If he asks again, send him to me. Don’t give him anything.” He seethed the last word spotting Belle now as a bright suited man walked up to her. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the familiar face even from this distance.

Hoseok stared at the male quizzically. No client ever received this kind of special treatment even to send some kind of a message. Hell if he wanted to send a message, Taehyung would have been dead in a ditch somewhere for police to scrap him off. Yet Jungkook wanted to keep the man alive for some reason. “Why—”

“Just…” Jungkook sighed trying to push his frustrations even though he wanted to explode right there and then. “…Just do as I say.” Eyes flickered back over to Belle again who was now conversing and smiling with the man causing a small twinge in his chest. “I’m trusting you to do this for me, Hobi. Alright?”

The older male still looked utterly confused but nodded nonetheless. “Of course, man. You’re the boss.” He pressed his lips together. “Now can you tell where they put the whiskey?”

Jungkook glanced around the party before leaning into him. “Ask the server with the blue flower on his breast pocket. They usually bring in secret batches for more important guests. The password is periwinkle.”

“Is that some kind of fancy slang for penis?” Hoseok winced.

He stammered already imagining Belles’ reaction to that statement being far more dramatic than his. “It’s a shade of—just go.” Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little as the male rushed to find his source of sanctuary.

-

Boyoung was definitely on par with the seasoning of fashion since a garden party was the absolute perfect way to create inspiration for spring design. Granted this years’ line finished in its designing process, there was no reason not to take in the sheer amount of beauty. How ethereal would those peach blossoms look on a silk kimono or chrysanthemum detailing on a wedding dress. So many colours and designs all around her Belle had the strong urge to twirl like a little child in pure happiness.

But to keep up a decent appearance she merely smiled watching the cherry blossoms fall gracefully down to the ground. Hand held out the woman managed to have one land on her palm. That was when a voice spoke from behind her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She turned around to see a man with a wisteria shaded suit and a charming plump lipped smile. His chocolate brown hair parted to the side with eyes that expressed both kindness mixed into a little intimidation. “It is.” Belle smiled at the male before glancing back at the scenery again.

He took a small step forward. “I’m Kim Seokjin.” He stated holding his hand out which the woman accepted kindly after a moments’ hesitation. “The owner of the Sangria House.”

Belle only heard a few rumors about the Sangria House much like a person who evaluated life in a brothel based on assumptions and fiction stories. From what she knew, it had the mixture of a teahouse and a brothel but that was pretty much everything. Either way she smiled knowingly trying to be polite even though the girl had no intention in admiring a neatly dressed pimp too much. “Kim Belle. Nice to meet you.”

“With the murmurs I’m hearing, it seems Kim will be turning to Jeon very soon.” Seokjin smirked, glancing over his shoulder towards the flowing pixies all over the garden.

The woman tried to maintain the smile despite her prior momentary peace in the garden now being diminished. “Maybe not that soon.” She mumbled.

“Why do you say that?”

Her heart leaped slightly, the sudden urge to just spew out her whole situation in hopes that Seokjin would never be in her line of sight again. But the woman knew better to keep quiet especially since these attendees would probably not be that helpful nor would they find her ordeal abnormal. “I have a lot of other responsibilities right now.”

“Ah yes the new and coming designer for Saito.” Seokjin nodded, gaze lowered to his feet for a moment before looking over at her again.

Belle smiled politely feeling a sense of pride towards her workplace. Saitos’ outfits were rare so it was hard hearing about them from just anyone. Except from the way this man held himself and the reputation of the Sangria House, she knew Seokjin was not just anyone.

“You know, I had been wanting to order a few new dresses from Madame Saito as a refreshed décor for my angels.” Seokjins’ request lingered in the light breezy garden. “Maybe I could personally order you as my designer.”

A chill rushed down her spine either from the breeze or the fact he said ‘my designer’. Still the woman sighed lightly and smiled. The opportunity to create a contact was a literal dream come true. But the man did not know her designs nor did he see how she worked. Which gave the unsettling assumption that Seokjin was asking on his mere personal interest just by looking at and talking to her.

“Darling!”

Belle heard a familiar voice call out as a flash of white strolled towards the two of them. Immediately a more genuine smile tugged at her lips when Jungkook stood, arm gently wrapped around her waist.

“Mr. Jeon.”

“Mr. Kim.” Jungkook’s fingers gripped at her dress for a second before smoothing it down. “I hope you don’t mind if I whisk away my lady for a minute.” It wasn’t really a question from the sound of his tone and when he was already pulling her away.

“Think about my offer, Ms. Kim.” Seokjin smirked.

Belle could only get the chance to nod before she felt herself being led off towards the mansion.

-

“Bit of a rushed interaction.” Belle remarked as they walked into the majestic building Jeon Boyoung called her home. Instead of crème, the mansion adorned a dark wooden interior with antique hand-painted portraits of what she assumed were ancestors of the Jeon family including a modern one of Jungkooks’ extended family. The large painting was the first thing people saw when they walked in, Jungkooks’ aunt and father sitting on chairs while their spouses and children stood on the far ends.

She could easily see the mixture between Jungkooks’ parents from his mothers’ soft round eyes and small pouty lips to his fathers’ sharp jaw and intimidating brows.

“You looked like you needed a bit of rescuing.” Jungkook replied simply with a shrug following her gaze up to the portrait.

“Oh yeah he was definitely ‘talking’ me to death.” Sarcasm seeped through her tone as she walked forward towards the wide entry hall having the strong urge to scream and see if there was an echo.

“Believe me that’s his superpower.” He tried to explain as well as keeping up with her slightly excited exploration. “Seokjin got his company to the highest ranks of the elite through his eloquence. Hell he even convinced me to invest.”

“So you invest in brothels.” Belle turned around to face him now, not really caring what he did in his work since it all could be listed down into a category of inappropriate. “Did you get good discounts?”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sangria House is not just a brothel.”

“Yes yes don’t think a girl working alone in the city hasn’t heard that before on the streets.” She raised a brow. “Let me guess…it’s a respected establishment with highly trained employees who get paid a fair wage. Did I forget to mention the highest bidder gets to take away a novices’ virginity? And the fair wage only exists if you’re a full-fledged angel. Oh and they get to wear pretty dresses.” Belle gave him an advertisement happy smile before walking carefully backwards.

“You’re telling me you’ve been recruited into Sangria House before?”

Belle shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure every person who looked unemployed enough has.”

Jungkook kept glancing behind her to check if it was safe enough to be walking like that. “Guess fate wanted you to come to this place one way or another.” He smiled.

“Ah so you did get a few investor gifts.” She turned back around walking towards the flight of stairs. “What were they like?”

His eyes trailed down her body when she bounced up the stairs feeling a quick tremble. “I’ve experienced better.” Jungkook quickly caught up to the woman and grabbed onto her hand to keep her close to him for a few more moments.

Belle smirked up at him trying to back away cheekily before her back hit the wall. “I think he had a good offer.” She muttered averting her gaze a little.

“Really?” He tilted his head placing his palm on the wall next to her head. “Do you have to wear a pretty dress to come with it?”

She playfully slapped his chest. “Not that kind of offer.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but admire her every little movement as if he would lose her if he missed a second.

“He wants me to design some dresses for his angels.”

“Are you going to agree?”

Belle shrugged soothing the place she slapped lightly. “He’s ordered from Saitos’ before so—should be a good contact.”

Jungkook only hummed in response.

“What?” The corners of her lips curled up already sensing what made the man look so uncomfortable at the prospect.

“Nothing…”

“Alright, I’ll just go back and talk to him again.”

Before Belle could prance down the stairs, Jungkook hooked his arm around her waist and pressed her back against the wall. One free arm leaned next to her head while he leaned down with a small smirk. “Everyone’s been talking to you today.” He brushed away the loose hair from her face before his arm wrapped around her again, making sure no space escaped between their bodies. “Maybe I just want you to myself for a minute.”

“I am an independent woman, Mr. Jeon.” She teased with a faint smirk. “You’re going to have to ask nicely.”

Jungkook smiled as she played with his sharp collars. “May I—please have you all to myself for a minute, Ms. Kim?”

Belle hummed, taking her hat off and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just for a minute.” She acknowledged in a whisper.

All he needed was her say and his lips magnetized onto hers, tasting the brownie she nibbled on earlier. Palms rubbed over the soft fabric of her blue dress to her bare arms and the back of her neck, sliding down to where he could feel the curve of her plush peach. Almost a week had passed since they last touched each other in this manner but Jungkook burned up so much, he could surpass a furnace. Kisses trailed down to her jawline.

Pausing on a soft patch of skin on her neck he bit onto it humming in satisfaction when she gasped lightly. Jungkook could listen to those sounds on a record player if he ever wanted to find peace when she was away. He couldn’t help her squeeze her whole body a little to ensure that this wasn’t all a dream. But the heat radiating together told no lie.

Soon frustration seeped in as the clothing around her felt too restricting causing his hand to sneak under the skirt of her dress. A satisfied sigh brushed against her lips feeling how warm her bare skin felt against his own almost lulling to a transient relaxation. Like nothing could go wrong at this moment.

“We can’t do that under a minute.” Belle giggled, noses nudging against each other as they intoxicated themselves in each other’s breathy laughter.

“I just missed touching you.” Jungkook whispered feeling his mind far too blurry to care about putting up a wall and sounded more calm about this situation. He loved feeling her against his skin. So much so that he had rub his hand up her hips, torso and breast after sneaking out of her skirt. Every crevice drove him insane.

Her core pooled at the firm brush against her body, lightly touching her nipple before he gently grabbed her by the neck. Eyes closed unable to focus on anything else in the hallway even if she tried, her lips practically parting on its own for Jungkooks’ tongue to explore her mouth once again.

“Jungkook! Belle! Aunt Boyoungs’ calling!”

Jungkook groaned under his throat making Belle chuckle at how desperate he got from a few naughty touches in their momentary privacy.

Fixing her dress to make it look proper again, the couple walked out holding hands towards the party with a new air of joy around them.

-

Patience had always been one of this strong suits. A trait many men of his stature lacked so when he excelled at it, respect for him shot up through the roof. So why was it that he could not keep his hands to himself whenever Belle so much as stood next to him? Merely a day passed since the garden party and Jungkook had already kissed every part of her face whenever he got his chance in the morning.

It didn’t help that the woman had a talent in noticing when someone was literally trembling to feel more of her. She got ready wearing nothing but a thin, satin robe causing her slightly plump thighs to peek out of the clothing. The man had to physically turn his head away so he could focus on putting his tie on without looking like a toddler doing it for the first time. Even then he still pecked her temple and cheek when he stood behind her.

Even when she finally left for her work, her small goodbye kiss lingered on his lips for most of the afternoon which meant he had to space out for a few seconds during meetings before finally answering any questions or making any demands.

Then a call rung in his phone while he sat in a car on his way for a check-in at the warehouse.

Hoseoks’ name appeared on the screen.

Heart sinking down to an abyss, Jungkook answered the phone. “What is it?”

A sigh passed from the other side of the phone. “He came back again. I’ve sent him to you now. He’s on the way to the mansion.” Hoseok sounded just about as helpless as Jungkook felt when the two quickly ended the call not wanting to waste any more time.

-

Postponing the check-in, the driver took him straight back to the mansion a little quicker than he was legally allowed to but they reached before Jungkook could groan in frustration. He wanted to get the whole situation over and done with. Dealing with client was already frustration as it were on a normal day but now more than ever he wished he didn’t throw away his pack of cigarettes already.

Not that it was his fault anyway since Taehyung decided to ruin the entire deal in less than a month.

Once inside the mansion Jungkook saw the hooded man on his knees with four guards surrounding him in front of the dormant fireplace. Shrugging off his blazer he slammed it down onto the floor before stomping over to him. He spotted the mans’ blood shot eyes and chapped lips, skin glistening in sweat. When he finally stood before him, a deafening silence lingered in the air.

This was what would have happened. Taehyung on his knees ready to accept his bloody fate for taking advantage of his long trained patience. The man had the shaking urge to continue with that plan. It almost worked until he remembered the soft linger on his lips again. “How long have you been taking it?” He asked in a grim tone.

Taehyung hung his head, lips pursing together.

“I asked you a question.” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth, feeling his final nerve being tugged at.

“Couple of days.”

“A week is not a ‘couple of days’” His fingers curled up into tight fists. “And you had the gall to ask for more? Did you even finish it all?”

“I—I didn’t ask for that much.” His voice was meek under his breath.

Jungkook scoffed turning around for a moment to catch his fiery heaving. “You didn’t ask for that much.” He repeated the statement in his own mind and felt the lava flooding past his control. When it reached the peak of the volcano, one of his fists swung across Taehyung’s face, a crunch sound touching his ears.

The male cowered on the floor, hands over his nose as blood trickled through his fingers and his eyes looked more bloodshot than before.

“This isn’t a buy and sell anymore, Taehyung!” His voice echoed throughout the walls of the mansion. “Do you even realize your little sister lives here now? Because of you!” Jungkook spat watching Taehyung struggle to get himself back up again. “You think she’s here just so you can continue scrapping drugs for free?!”

“You’re the one who made the deal in the first place!” He shrieked through his hands.

Jungkook grabbed at his hair, forcing him to look up at the male. Blood drenched him from his nose down his neck but it only angered the man further. “I only made the deal because I thought you’d do anything to make sure your sister was safe. Even if it meant facing the real world without anything numbing you out.”

“Jungkook…” He heard a familiar murmur from behind him almost making his stomach jump up to his throat. Before he could turn back to see, the floral dressed figure already padded closer to the scene, eyes flooding with tears.

Despite the ache in his heart, the male still let go of Taehyung roughly to limp back onto the floor. “Tell her.” A growl sneaked within his voice. “I want you to tell her what you did.” He gestured towards the woman.

Belle hesitantly walked and knelt down in front of her brother as he tried to get up again. Her hands held onto his shoulders just until he was on his knees as well. A sob caught in her throat seeing the blood smeared on her older brothers’ face. His blood drenched hands attempted to hold her somehow but only ended up staining her skin and some of the lighter flowers on her black background dress. “What happened?” She whispered.

Taehyung lowered his head, biting down his bottom lip to conceal a small sob.

“Tae—” A little annoyance flew straight to her head thinning her patience to near nothingness but to be the cool headed one in the volcanic pit made from the living room, she kept her voice calm. “Tae, please answer me.”

“I couldn’t—” He sniffled, gripping onto her arms. “I couldn’t do it.”

She pressed her lips together as the tears jerked out of her, streaming down her light berry colored cheeks. Immediately the woman shook her head before wiping them away. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” Jungkook argued. “He had a responsibility.”

“And you made a promise.” Belle met his gaze with a subtle tremble in her tone, getting off the floor. “Addiction isn’t just going to go away.” Her voice rung soft in his ears as she padded closer to Jungkook instantly melting away most of his fury. “You could’ve done the absolute worst to me, it was still going to take time.”

His eyes twitched a little feeling the ache on his knuckles a little too prominently, desperately wishing he took a small puff of a cigarette prior to this meeting. Jungkook glared back at Taehyung who already looked like he was going to pass out from the one punch before he looked at Belle. Everything felt so much better in these few days. He saw her smiling more often and playing around that now watching her face drenched in tears and her neck streaked with blood made his chest clench in immense pain. “He’s going to stay here from now on.” He declared struggling to keep his voice steady. “We’ll have nurses and guards looking after him until he gets better. There’s no chance of him sneaking out anywhere.”

Belle watched the male gesture towards his guards who grabbed Taehyung firmly and led him towards another room through the hall next to the bar. Silence plunged back into the room as the woman tried to meet Jungkooks’ gaze again. Even if she tried to form them, no words managed come out of her. She did not know whether to be thankful or just more exhausted about this whole ordeal; the ring around her finger now felt heavier than ever.

Jungkook walked towards the bar. With a loud sigh, the male practically threw a glass onto the table before roughly pouring some golden liquid to the brim and taking a generous swig.

In small hesitant steps she stood behind the counter. Grabbing a cloth and drenching it under a tap, Belle wiped off any residue of blood on her neck and arm.

“How’re you so calm about this?” Jungkook asked solemnly.

Who knew that simple question could cause a thick lump in her throat. “I’m not calm.” Fresh tears gathered at the brim of her eyes while she cleaned out the towel again. “I’m just tired.” She sniffled feeling an invisible but heavy weight on her shoulders that she couldn’t get rid of even if she wanted to. “Really tired.”

Jungkook watched her from over his shoulder trying to drink another sip to get rid of that ache in his chest again. A few maids walked out of Taehyungs’ new room with some old sheets and bloody cloth, bowing to the two of them quickly before excusing themselves. Once the room only consisted of them, he pulled out another empty glass.

“I don’t drink.” Belle muttered, standing next to the male in front of the counter.

He turned back towards the small fridge behind them and reached inside for a plastic bottle with some red liquid inside. “You like cranberry juice?”

She nodded after a moment’s hesitation. The right corner of her lip twitched a little as Jungkook filled her glass up halfway. “Thank you.” She whispered, gently holding the crystal before taking a shy sip.

Jungkook sighed leaning on his elbows against the table, eyes scanning the now empty living room. “I’m really tired too.” He murmured. “It’s not really 9 to 5 job like it looks, you have to—mold it with your personal life and let it run you until finally…” He held up his glass. “This kills you… Fun old life, isn’t it? Violence, alcohol and—”

“Sex.”

“Not really getting much of that lately.”

“Don’t expect it tonight either.” Belle took a more generous sip. “Maybe next time beat people up in a warehouse like all the normal crime lords.” She gestured towards the empty space in the living room. “That was the second time.”

He looked at the empty space again with an added annoyance before hanging his head, scoffing. “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?”

She had a tiny smirk curled up her lips before leaning to press a warm kiss on his cheek. “That’s what you get for punching my brother.” She whispered. “Too bad though.” Belle looked down at her outfit. “I really wanted to show you something.”

Jungkooks’ eyes immediately trailed down her form again, fingers twitching. “Showing me something isn’t technically sex.”

“Nice try.” Belle patted his back before leaving him in own heated mess to go upstairs. “Good night, Mr. Jeon.”

Once again he was left watching the beauty walk away from him and all he could do was take in every inch of her body and every strand of her hair until it drove him mad. If the alcohol didn’t kill him, she might just.

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts mafia au #jungkook mafia au

[kaitycole]

late night stroll

Summary: Late night texts turn into a late night stroll. 

Pairings: Mammon x gn!reader

Word Count: 1216

Warnings: Fluff, maybe even a little bit of *gasp* hand-holding

A/N: This is based off of the text thread: Invitation (NOT). I can upload screenshots if anyone wants them.

DING! DING! DING!

You let out a sigh, the constant dinging from your phone starts to drive you up a wall. It’s late, the day had been long and sleep was within reach or at least it had been. The screen is a tad too bright as you squint them open, glaring at the name on the notifications.

The GREAT Mammon (3 text messages)

Mammon: Are you awake? (1:30AM)

Mammon: You are, right? (1:30AM)

Mammon: You must be! (1:31AM)

The thought to simply ignore the messages crosses your mind, but then you think of the cheeky smile and decide to reply.

You: Yup,  I’m still up. (1:33AM)

DING! DING! DING!

Mammon: Great! (1:35AM)

Mammon: Come out for a bit! (1:35AM)

Mammon: Let’s go for a walk! (1:36AM)

Almost instantly, three messages come in rapid succession. He truly did text the same way he spoke, excitedly and just letting one thought out at a time instead of one full thought, but you really do enjoy that about him.

You: Sounds good! (1:37AM)

You push yourself out of bed, grabbing the nearest pair of sweats, even with the weather getting a bit warmer, nights were still a bit chilly. A giddiness fills your chest, excited that he thought to invite you and not someone else. You take once last glance in the full-length mirror; sweats and a long sleeve would have to do because the fact you managed to put your shoes on the proper feet was a miracle.

DING! DING! DING! DING! DING!

You quickly turn the sound off, almost dropping it in the process, carefully glancing around the hallway, hoping no one had been woken up. Well, anyone other than Levi, even at this late/early hour, you knew he was still awake but his headphones would keep him from hearing anything.

The walk to Mammon’s room isn’t too far, but just long enough for you to read his newest messages.

Mammon: It’s because we haven’t been able to spend much time together, ya know. Just you and me. (1:39AM)

Mammon: So I need more of ya, Y/N. (1:39AM)

Mammon: You better not get me wrong! It’s not like I NEED ya! (1:40AM)

Mammon: So come to my room. Right now! (1:40AM)

Mammon: And make sure my brothers don’t find out. It’d be a pain in the rear if they tagged along. (1:40AM)

He really could be a huge dork when he wanted and you loved how you could feel the flustered tone through the screen. Before you could knock, he opens the door, catching you off-guard and even though he quickly tosses his head to the side, you still got a look at the blush that covered his cheeks when he saw you.

*                      * Both of you slowly walk down a nearby path, the night is quiet and peaceful which Mammon equates to his brothers not tagging along. You take a deep breath, taking in the nice night’s air and the lingering notes of Mammon’s expensive cologne that he had bragged to Asmo about just a few weeks ago.

Even with neither of you talking, it wasn’t awkward and that’s something you are thankful for. You really aren’t sure of what to say, what to do, because while you felt comfortable around Mammon, you also like Mammon and couldn’t keep a conversation going to share your life.

Mammon’s shoulder brushes against yours and at first you barely notice, but it continues to happen and you can’t help but glance at the white-haired demon to your left, a half smile on your face. It’s not until you playfully bump his shoulder back that Mammon finally speaks.

“H-hey! W-w-watch it!” He turns to face you, his face entirely red from embarrassment.

“Sorry.” You smirk.

Silence falls back over you two as you continue down the small path, a crisp breeze swirls around you and you shiver, your choice of attire clearly not suited for the weather. You cross your arms, rubbing your hands against your biceps, hoping it would produce some warmth.

“Humans are so dumb, here.” He shrugs off his bicolored aviator jacket before he shoves it into your arm.

“Thank you.” You smile, quickly slipping the jacket on, embracing the warmth it brings wholeheartedly.

He simply scoffs before going on a small tangent that HE doesn’t care if you freeze, but Lucifer would be upset and that he’s not scared of Lucifer, but he certainly didn’t want to deal with his older brother. Of course, all you can do is laugh because if there was one thing you knew it was how to read between the lines when it came to Mammon’s comments.

** After walking a decent distance, you both turned around, heading back to the house and the way back to the house was filled with more conversation that the first half, especially since you knew to ask him about Goldie and any upcoming money-making schemes ideas.

He is lost in his rambles, telling you about this witch that mentioned to him some super rare, not at all a fake, large diamond that she had come across when a rustle came from a nearby bush. Mammon immediately jumped, grabbing the closest thing to him which happened to be your hand and you both just stopped.

“I-I’m not scared, ya know.” But he doesn’t let go of your hand.

You smile at him, squeezing his hand in yours slightly. You watch him slowly start to turn red, all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“I wish we could’ve walked a little longer.”

“Let’s go another time!” He immediately catches what he’s said and starts stammering. “Not because you said so. Maybe I want to and you aren’t bad company.” You softly chuckle to yourself as he opens the door, holding it up so you can slip in first. Part of you expects him to drop your hand as you both tiptoe by the kitchen, neither noticing Beel who stops eating long enough to notice you both, but he doesn’t. Instead he holds it all the way up until you two reach the door to your room and even then, he doesn’t look happy to let it go.

You look up, leaving a small kiss on his cheek before walking into your room, leaving a flustered blushing mess of a Mammon on the other side.

*                      * “Mammon and Y/N went for a walk late last night!” Beel shares excitedly, the rest of his brothers all looking around the breakfast table at each other before all eyes landed on the guilty pair.

“Beel!” You shout, embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck as you try to conceal your face.

“WHAT!?” Levi looks up from his phone, he’d been playing the new Rui-chan phone app.

“When?” Satan adds, placing his cup of tea down.

“I saw them sneaking back in when I got my second midnight snack.” He straightens in his seat, proudly, “they were holding hands too!” “I want to hold hands with Y/N! Y/N hold my hand!” Asmo pouts, reaching his hand across the table to take your hand.

“Let’s go for a walk later.” Lucifer winks, causing Mammon to turn red, slamming his hands on the table as he stands up.

“Y/N is MY human. I was their first!”

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