#when i finally get a job and i get paid i’m getting a group set from like . mania era or something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saltofmercury · 1 year

Text

Pairing: könig x f!reader

Plot: König comes back from a mission.

A/N: just the cozy vibes I wanted to write about. We agreed we liked soft König so I had to dive deep into the mush.

“I missed you”

König had just come back from a mission. A whole 3 months away from him. You didn’t anticipate the days getting longer and waiting every hour just to hear from him. You missed him and had a hard time adjusting. As soon as he had told you he was home, you wanted to jump in your car and race over—but instead, you were patiently waiting for him to invite you over.

He had texted you saying he needed a few days to adjust back to normalcy. Which you understood. You couldn’t imagine taking on a job so vicious and scary like he did.

When he had told you what he did, the conversation was calculated but explained casually:

“I’m a contracted…a contracted mercenary,” he said. He looked over at you quickly, and bit the inside of his cheek under the mask he had on. His heart raced, but he wanted to be as honest as he could without scaring you.

He quickly added:

“I-I-I’m in charge of the jobs I get to seek out and help with.” He quickly explained one of his missions — taking out a terrorist group involving human trafficking.

He continued to ramble on, scared that you take it the wrong way. Maybe mercenary was too harsh of a word. He saw himself as a mercenary. He was in the military but he was getting paid to kill people.

You sat there so confused, he could see how your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes set wide, but nodded your head.

You spoke—

“So you kill… bad people?”

He sighed, had closed his eyes and mumbled quietly, “yes and I know it sounds ten times as awful but I don’t want you to be scared because I would never hurt you.”

You brought your hands to his face and kissed his nose, his forehead— his entire face.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” You reassured him. “I’m not scared I’m just trying to understand.”

He had kept in contact with you sporadically at first, messaging you throughout the week. You had received a message on Tuesday almost a week after he left, but he had responded through an email on Friday, then messaged you again six weeks later confirming his safety and return date.

Now you just waited patiently for him to reset and need your company.

König was exhausted. It was a whole 3 months away from you and a whole 85 days in action. He was responding to others on his team, being near others, taking orders from others, and engaging with others.

He just wanted to see you. Have the company of someone who wasn’t scared of him or needed him to knock down the door where he would be greeted by the screams and footsteps of men. He wanted to have his guard down and not look around every second hoping he missed someone.

When he finally felt he was okay, back to his own safe reality, he messaged you to come over and spend the night.

You were excited. Was he really asking you to spend the night? You packed an overnight bag and rushed over to his house.

He was waiting outside, leaning against his door frame with his hands crossed against his chest. He eyed you from the doorway. You could see he was dressed in his all black attire but he had on something different, a hooded mask. with holes for his eyes. This was different. You ran from the driveway and leaped into his arms.

“Mmmm” you moaned into his neck, pulled up the hem of the mask slightly and nuzzled in and kissed him up his neck.

“I missed you so much.”

He was still holding you up, one of his arms holding your bottom and the other arm across your back, his hand tangled into your hair as he made his way into your neck.

He sighed there and mumbled

“It was too long —too long away from you.”

He walked backward toward the house and closed the door with his foot. He walked over to the couch still holding you and plopping down softly, not letting go.

You appeared from under his hooded mask.

“Hi baby” you rubbed his chest with your hands as you nuzzled his clothed nose against your bare one.

You pulled back and observed him.

“This is new.” You rubbed the black mask over his face with your hands.

His eyes widened, knowing he was probably blushing underneath, you smiled.

“I didn’t have time to wash my turtlenecks.” He used as an excuse.

You laughed and pouted “but now I can’t see when you blush or when your ears turn red”

It was like he was hiding more of himself and you two had been carefully and patiently peeling back the hidden layers of him.

He buried himself in your chest and whispered

“I’m sorry”

You rubbed his neck and reassured him

“It’s okay, whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

You kind of expected this. As König took on missions and left for longer periods of time, he came back more quiet than he usually was. He was never one for many words, preferring to hear you talk, but after missions, it's like he coward away from reality and sunk into being unnoticeable, he needed to recharge a lot of the times.

He looked up at you and kissed your chin.

You two sat on the couch for a while just him holding you and rubbing you as you caught him up about everything he missed in the last 3 months. You told him about the 3 months of work you had to endure. It wasn’t anything compared to what he had to do but he sat there nodding his head and affirming everything that had happened while he was gone, all while rubbing your back, your neck, and legs on top of him.

As you were in the middle of telling him how the new project you start a month ago had tensed you up so much that you ended up buying a neck warmer/pillow with a built in massager,

He spoke softly interrupting you,

“Do you want to get in my jacuzzi?”

You looked at him, suddenly nervous,

“Will you be joining me?”

You were stunned. It felt like he never used his pool or jacuzzi in his own home. It could be because he was never home, but to you it seemed as if it was more of an aesthetic for him, not something he had built in his home for pleasure.

As he adjusted the temperature on his phone and went outside to start it up, you had run back out to the car hoping you had packed a bathing suit.

You kept denying the back of your mind telling you “you didn’t pack for this.”

You came back inside and he led you his personal bathroom.

You turned to him sheepishly

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

He looked at you, walked over to his dresser, and picked up one of his surfing tops.

“Would you feel comfortable in this?”

The sight made you giggle a little bit. A huge top that would without a doubt cover you entirely. And because only he would have a surfing top because it covers his body.

You nodded.

“But I don’t have any bottoms…”

“If you are comfortable, you can just get in with your underwear. I’ll do the same.” he said

He walked out letting you know he would be getting ready in his guest bathroom.

You tied up the enormous top on you as best as you could, stripped off your pants, tied up your hair, and walked out.

He was already waiting for you, towels set aside for you both, sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi with his legs in, his back turned to you. He had on another one his surf tops on, boxers on, and his hooded mask on top.

You walked up nervously.

As if he already knew, he spoke softly:

“Come on in, I won’t watch you.”

König was always a step ahead of your bashfulness or nervousness. Only he was one to truly understand.

He looks away as you step in holding onto the rail, dipped yourself in, and settled yourself in between his legs.

The water bubbled around you. It was warm and settling against your neck., shoulders, and body.

His arms came around your shoulders and he began kneading them.

“Is this okay?” He says gently.

Eyes closed, you nodded.

As you rubbed his shins, you noticed the stretch marks on the back of his knees. Red, lightning scars running vertically on the back and sides of his knees. It was one the first times you saw any part of his body. You settled your head in between his legs, laying on his right thigh, and slowly continued to rub one leg now.

You felt like drifting off to sleep with the way he was gently massaging you and petting your hair.

He speaks softly,

“If I had known how much I would miss you, I wouldn’t have reported to that job.”

A small mumble and whisper to himself

“At least I have you again.”

It struck a nerve in your heart. You missed him terribly and now that he was back you felt complete again. The relationship you two built was tough work and slowly, but surely, the patience and effort you had reaped and sowed were being rewarded. This relationship was blossoming.

But in the back of your mind, it started to get cloudy, worried, and most of all, scared.

You stood up and faced him.

His face was blocked by his mask, but you can see his eyes are curious by why you had stood up.

You pull up the hem of the mask and he stops your hands. You gently let go. He pulls up the mask just enough to show his lips to you. He pulls you in and locks lips with yours. You wrap your arms around him.

The kiss is soft and slow, followed by smaller pecks on your lips.

He releases you, and you’re left breathless.

You bury yourself into his neck, blushing.

“Now I’m not going to want to let you go.”

He hugs you, softly whispering

“You won’t have to baby, not for a while.”

#könig #könig cod #könig imagine #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #konig mw2 #konig vibessssss #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig x reader #konig call of duty #call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x reader

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gh0stsp1d3r · 2 months

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Could you an enemies to lovers Rafe Cameron x chubby/ curvy middle class Reader. She’s friends with the pogues and spends most of her time with them which leads to encounters with Rafe and his goonies. Rafe has always been in love with her but doesn’t show it instead he just teases/makes fun of her every time he sees her which always leads to bickering. She finally has enough when he scares off a guy who was hitting on her. She tells him that she just wanted to feel beautiful, not fat and good enough which he took away that possibility because of him scaring the guy off. She confront him his behavior towards her (thinking he is making fun of her by flirting with her)which leads to a love confession and a ton of smut with praise and breeding kink

I love this sm! So sorry this took a little to finish, hope you like it!!

What was that for?

Warnings- p in v, drinking, car sex, porn with plot

Rafe Cameron. The kook prince, the man who was secretly, deeply infatuated with you.

He found you interesting. You weren’t scared to stand up to him, and that was rare with some pogues.

You hated him. He was attractive, he was extremely fucking hot. But he was the most annoying person you’ve ever met. Him and his little minions.

It was a life long fight between the two of you.

“Shit, well look who it is!” A familiar voice said. You rolled your eyes, putting on a fake smile and coming towards their table.

You had just gotten a new job at some fancy restaurant in figure 8. It paid well, so you tried your best to keep it.

“Since when did you start working here?” Rafe asked you, as you poured some water for him.

And you hated to even think it, but with his legs spread and his arms crossed in that chair, he looked too good.

“Last week.”

“Didn’t know they hired pogues.” One of his friends said with a laugh. Rafe smiled, his eyes fixed on you.

You clenched your jaw, forcing another small smile.

“What can I get for you guys?” You asked them, putting on your friendly- waitress voice, and keeping your fake smile.

——-

Now, you sat down with your friends at the boneyard, a drink in your hand and a smile on your face. All of you talked for a while, about anything and everything.

Boneyard parties truly were amazing. Everyone came together, no matter what side of the island you’re from.

“C’mon, you needa pick up a guy.” JJ told you, he had been trying to set you up with this one guy the entire time.

You groaned, taking a sip of the cheap beer in your hands.

“It doesn’t even need to be him! I’m tired of seeing my best friend sulk around alone. And he told me that he thinks you’re hot!”

“I’m not alone. I got you guys. And while I-“

“You’re the only single one in the group.” He pointed out, nodding to Cleo and Pope, as well as Sarah and John B.

“C’mon. Give him a chance, please…?” Jj begged.

You sighed, scarfing down the rest of the beer and throwing it.

“Where is he?”

“That’s my girl!” He shouted, a smile on his face as he looked around, coming over to one of his friends.

“Hey, Josh, I thought I would introduce you to one of my friends. This is y/n.” He pointed to you.

“Y/n, this is Josh.” He pointed to the boy, who had a shy smile on his face as he held out his hand for you to shake.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi.” You said with a small smile.

“All righttt… you two get comfy, now.” Jj spoke, pointing finger guns at the both of you.

“See you, J.” Josh said.

You just waved goodbye, and turned back to Josh.

“Uhm… you’re..” he cleared his throat. “You’re beautiful.”

You smiled, your cheeks warming up.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He chuckled, and the two of you talked. You learned more about him,

He was sweet, you thought to yourself. He complimented you and didn’t talk about himself too much.

“Hey, so.. this might be a little soon, but I was wondering if I could get your number?” He asked you, his eyes hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah. Of cour-“ you began to pull out your phone when a hand on your shoulder made you jump, you furrowed your eyebrows and turned around.

“Hey, I feel like I’ve seen you before.” Rafe spoke, looking at Josh, his gaze sharp.

“Uhm… I- I mean you- you probab-“

“I- I- you.” He mocked, cutting the boy off. “Oh, wait. You’re that one dude.” He clicked his tongue.

“You uh… you’re the dude who got beat up by Kelce in high school. That’s why you look so familiar.” He nodded.

“Yeah. You told your mommy on him. Nice to see you again, man.” He said, a wicked grin spreading across Rafes face.

Josh’s face was suddenly drained of all color.

“Feel like you had a nickname.. it was something like dirt licker? Cause…” he chuckled.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You exclaimed, and shrugged Rafe’s hand off of you.

“I’ll… I’ll see you later.” Josh murmured, ignoring Rafe and looking at you before walking away.

You stayed looking at Rafe now.

“What the hell was that for?!” You shouted, shoving him. You were thankful no one could hear, since you both were far away from the crowd.

He held his hands up in defense. “Chill out, sweetheart. I’m saving you. That dudes a pussy-“

“Why do you care? Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?! One good thing happens and you ruin it all!”

He seemed genuinely confused at your words.

“You make me feel like shit, every. single. day. And some guy finally notices me, he finally fuckin’ makes me feel good about myself, I just wanted to feel pretty and not fat for once, and you ruined it!”

You both were close now, your face so close to his that he could feel your breath.

“I love you.” He blurted out. You looked at him, stepping back, confused.

“What?”

“I thought I made it obvious.”

“Wha- Rafe, you fucking call me names every day, you come to my job literally just to make fun of me! You and your friends are complete assholes to me! Then you go ahead and flirt with me as a joke, which really fucking hurt, in case you didn’t know!”

“I wasn’t jokingly flirting with you. I just…”

You waited for his response, thinking it was gonna be more bullshit.

“I do like you. I have since like.. 11th grade. Why do you think I only give you so much shit?”

You looked at him, even more confused.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Let me show you.”

His lips were on yours in an instant, his hands making their way down your body, landing on your waist.

You were shocked, taken aback. But you quickly kissed him back, moaning into the kiss when he slid his tongue into your mouth.

“Back to my car?” He asked you, his voice a whisper as he pulled apart from the kiss.

You nodded quickly, the two of you walking to the car. He opened the back door for you, then jumped in as well.

You practically were jumping on him the second those doors shut. Your body flush against his in the backseats.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” He said with a chuckle when your hands flew to his belt.

“I probably can.” You mumbled, pulling his pants down to his legs, he kicked them off. You straddled his lap now, a new confidence buzzing in you, mostly because of the alcohol in your system. He took his shirt off and threw it somewhere.

Your lips on his had him drunk off of you immediately, one hand cupped your face and the other went to your thigh, and then between your legs.

He pulled your panties to the side, dragging his finger down and collecting your wetness on it. You let out a moan at the contact.

He pulled away from the kiss, and before you could protest, he brought his finger to his mouth, looking at you with those hooded eyes.

That was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

His fingers then started to moved in and out of your pussy, you clenching on his fingers was enough to make his pants tighten even more. He finally pulled them out, licking them clean.

Your eyes widened and he smirked, liking your reaction. He flipped you both over, you now laying on the seats and him hovering over your body. Pulling his hard cock out, you stared at it in disbelief.

How the hell would that even fit inside?

The tip was red and angry, leaking pre cum. He noticed your expression and chuckled, making you look back at him.

“I’ll make it fit.” He murmured, his hand bunching your dress up. He put his cock over your panties that he could see through because of the wetness seaping through. He rubbed his cock over your panties, moving it up and down.

“Please-“ you whined, desperate for any sort of contact at this point.

“Use your words.”

“Please, just fuck me!” You blurted out. He smiled at that.

“That’s all you had to say.”

His hands pulled the fabric to the side, he lined the tip up with your entrance.

You let out a cry as he slowly entered your gummy walls, you grabbed onto his back, pulling his body directly to yours.

He groaned as he moved even deeper from your movements. You buried your face in his shoulder, tears filling your eyes at the sharp pain you felt.

“You’re fine, you’re fine.” He murmured when your nails raked down his back. “Relax f’ me. God- too fuckin’ tight.” He groaned out.

Soon, the pain was overtaken by pleasure. He moved slow, watching your face for any sort of pain.

“You okay, baby?” He asked you, you let out a moan and nodded.

His pace quickened at your nod, one of his hands on the window.

“Shit.” He grunted out, as you moaned. He fought the urge to cum right then and there when he saw your fucked out face. His grunts and groans only made you closer to the edge.

“Rafe!” You cried out, he could tell you were close by the way you gripped him like a vice.

“C’mon, cum for me.” He told you, his free hand slithering its down and rubbing your clit in a circular motion.

That was enough to make you scream, coating his cock.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” His pace never stopped.

“Shit, where should I-“ he started, feeling his orgasm coming on.

“Inside.” He couldn’t even finish his sentence before you spoke. He groaned at simply the thought of you carrying around his child, and came inside of you, both of you panting as he slowly pulled out.

—-

“Whose car is that?” Jj asked, stumbling around drunkenly with the rest of the group. They all looked at the car with the fogged up windows, it rocking back and forth, and shrugged.

“Don’t know but looks like someone’s getting it on tonight.” Kiara said with a laugh and a shrug.

“It’s my brothers.” Sarah said with a grimace. They all turned to her now.

“Gross.”

“Hey- where’s y/n?” Pope asked suddenly, realizing her missing presence.

Jj shrugged. “Last I saw she was with Josh.”

“You think they went home together?”

“Probably.”

#rafe outer banks #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey smut

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seravphs · 1 year

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo has had better ideas than putting all of your friends together in one house, but at least you have a pool.

wc — 2k

tags — large friend group, set after cruel summer but can be read as a stand alone, summer vacation

It’s already evening by the time you arrive. The sun is still warming the sky, but it’s descending steadily. It’s a shame. You had wanted to be there earlier.

The minute you step out of the car and onto the grass, verdant in a way it never is in Tokyo, a large shape comes hurtling across the grass to snatch you up. Gojo grabs you around the waist and hauls you up so you’re trapped, kicking uselessly as he spins you around. He’s always been too strong for you. You pound his shoulders with your fists uselessly, demanding to be put down.

“Hi,” he says breathlessly when he finally does. “What took you so long? I was waiting for you.”

That shouldn’t make you as pleased as you are, but it does. You allow yourself a small indulgence, gentle brushing one stray lock of hair out of his face. He nuzzles into your touch like an overgrown cat, so sure of himself and what he deserves.

Ijichi clears his throat. He cowers when Gojo shoots him a nasty look. You press your hand over his face and shove him back, leaning into the car through the passenger seat window to talk to the poor man.

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

He eyes Gojo. “Absolutely, ma’am.”

“I’ve told you that you don’t have to call me that,” you say affectionately. “I’m only two years above you, you know. Have a safe trip back.”

As soon as he’s determined you’re done with your conversation, Gojo pulls you back to his side. He’s too handsy in a way only he can be, the way he always has been. He slings an arm around your shoulder as he steers you towards the house. You can hear music coming from inside, the strains of some pop melody off the radio’s top 100. Over it, Getou’s voice croons the lyrics, sweet and cheerful.

It’s a beautiful house. Utahime picked it out and Gojo paid for it. It’s a beautiful pale blue, even more faded from the constant wear and tear of salt spray so it matches the soft hues of a perfectly sunny sky. The white trim makes it look like it’s been pulled off a movie set. It’s an adorable little thing. Utahime did a good job.

As soon as you step through the doors, you’re attacked again. Haibara crashes into your arms so forcefully you knock backwards into Gojo, feeling your breath being crushed out of your chest. You wheeze in response, but still bring a hand up to stroke the crown of his head. You can’t be mad at him for being so excited to see you.

Gojo can.

“Hey,” he warns, peeling Haibara off you. “Gotta be more careful.”

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that you, Gojo, Getou and Shoko are the oldest now. Utahime graduated this year.

“Sorry,” Haibara whines. Then he jumps on Gojo, too.

Gojo laughs and pats his back. “You saw me two minutes ago, man.”

As Haibara clings on to Gojo like a suckerfish, testing how long Gojo can put up with him, Nanami gets up off the couch. “Here,” he says, a hand out for your bags. “Let me take your things.”

You follow him into the kitchen, where Getou and Utahime are arguing furiously. Shoko, without a care in the world, sits by the sink with her headphones in. Her eyes are closed, hair ruffled by the breeze coming in through the window. It’s beautiful outside. The previous owner had planted an apple tree right by the window, and now pink blossoms press against the glass like kisses.

Utahime lights up when she sees you, opening her arms to you immediately. She looks so domestic in her white, frilly apron and floral sundress. Some part of you wants to fall into her arms forever. She laughs as she peppers your head with kisses. “So spoiled,” she says, but you know she loves you. She wouldn’t baby you so much otherwise.

Of your entire class, Utahime had met you first. You were her first underclassman. She’s always been softer towards you and Shoko, but you have a special place in her heart.

Getou’s a little more patient than Gojo is. He waits his turn for Utahime to release you before he scoops you up in a hug as well. You’re still wondering when Gojo and Getou will stop growing. It’s getting a little uncomfortable to hug them at this point. Even standing on your tip toes can’t get your arms over their shoulders, so your feet lift off the ground when he hugs you back.

Shoko moves over on her seat to make room for you as the only two competent chefs in the entire house go back to arguing. Utahime throws syrup and ice in a shaker as she talks, pouring it into a tall glass of some sparkling liquid.

“No drinking before the pool,” she tells you as she hands you her signature mocktail. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Getou rolls his eyes. “What are you worried about? Gojo and I are there.”

She shoves his shoulder to get to the stack of plates she’s prepared. “Just because you guys are special grace sorcerers, you think you’re lifeguards too?”

“Come on,” you interrupt. “No fighting, please! We’re here to have fun.”

Utahime pauses on her way to the plates. She sighs, turns around, and plants another kiss on your hair. “Alright, alright. Truce?”

“We were never fighting.”

You and Shoko exchange a look. Out back, Gojo has the grill set up. Nanami had taken your things to your room, but Haibara was already in the pool swimming laps.

“Finally,” Gojo says when he sees the four of you coming with plates of food.

“Show some gratitude,” Getou tells him playfully. “Utahime and I put a lot of work into these, you know.”

Gojo’s already adding skewers to the grill. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Thank you mom and dad, we’re so appreciative of everything you do for us.”

“Brat,” Utahime says, coming to your side. “Isn’t he such a little jerk?”

You laugh.

“She loves me,” Gojo says confidently. “She’s on my side.”

That’s when Getou gets a sneaky look in his eye. “Want me to take over the grill?”

“Nah,” Gojo says. “I’m better than you so- whoa!”

Getou snags Gojo by the waist and drags him towards the pool. He, in turn, grabs your wrist and takes you with him. When Getou dumps him in, you take the plunge too.

Underneath the water, you open your eyes. Gojo’s white hair has turned blue in this underwater light, a few shades lighter than his electric eyes. He’s watching you back, his lips curved into a smile.

Then, he grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you up with him. Breaking the surface, you gasp for air.

“Are you okay?” Utahime calls.

Gojo gives her a thumbs up as he starts pushing your wet hair away from where it hangs in your face. His hands are as pretty as the rest of him, long and slim, but they feel almost rough as he works. Maybe it’s the friction of the water against your skin.

His hands feel good. He’s just touching you normally, but even the slightest bit of contact has your stomach in knots.

For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you again, like he did last summer, but he just affectionately bumps your cheek with his.

“Are you happy?” He asks, treading water.

You follow him, regardless of where he’s going. “I’m always happy when we’re together. All of us.”

He smiles. “Then I’m happy too.”

Having finally reached his destination, he grabs the water gun floating on the surface of the pool that Haibara had left in earlier. Just as Nanami steps outside, he aims.

Bullseye.

Nanami curses him out as Haibara, who was on his way to greet him, ducks and weaves, ditching his best friend. Sometimes there are casualties in war, and he knows how to cut his losses.

“I’ll avenge you!” He vows, tears in his eyes as he goes for the second gun. His aim is terrible. Instead of hitting Gojo, he hits you.

Just as Gojo aims, Utahime calls,” Food’s ready!”

It gives you deja vu. From the look on Gojo’s face, he feels the same. He gets out of the pool first and offers you a hand. You use it to pull him back in and climb out yourself.

“Brat,” he mutters, parodying Utahime’s words.

You just giggle, leaning into his side as the two of you walk towards the candlelit table. Utahime really does look like a mother in this light, her soft black hair falling over her shoulder. It’s slightly frizzy from the salt of the ocean nearby, but it only makes her look more charming. She’s wearing a floral bandana to push back her hair as she bustles about arranging plates.

Nanami, ever dutiful, gets up to help her. When he passes her, he mutters something in her ear that turns his pale cheeks red, but she only coos and calls him her good boy. That makes the blush even worse.

Gojo gives you a knowing look that you meet readily. “Ten bucks on the end of the summer?”

“Fifteen before,” you retort.

“Ah, but there’s Getou,” Shoko says, coming up behind you. She drapes one arm over each of your shoulders. You turn your head to press a light kiss to her wrist.

“Who says she can’t have both?” Gojo says.

That’s sort of the crux of the situation. Both, all. It doesn’t really matter to you how things shake out as long as you all stay together. There’s a faith in this, something larger than yourself. Your friends are a god of sorts to you. This thing that all of you share is unbreakable, holy. No matter in what form it comes, you will always love each other.

“Oh dear,” Shoko says, watching Haibara struggle under a stack of plates he insisted he could carry. “I’ll be right back.”

Gojo secures you two one of the loveseats around the table. When you sneeze, he grabs a towel from the stack Nanami set out earlier and wraps it around you. You lean into him, relishing his warmth as he wraps an arm around you.

“Nanami,” he calls.

“No.”

“Do me a favor?”

“I’d rather die.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know about your emo taste in music. Can you wrap a blanket around us?”

“Why can’t you do it yourself?”

“But I want you to tuck me in, please?”

Utahime’s watching him. He brings the blanket.

“Good boy,” Gojo coos, and Nanami turns bright red again. He stalks off to help Getou cook the last of the food, his shoulders rigid.

“You tease him too much,” you tell Gojo as he settles in. Utahime comes by with a plate she already prepared for the two of you. Gojo blows her a kiss when he notices she’s piled his favorites on. She scoffs, but she’s pleased.

She knows your favorites too. You snag her wrist and press a kiss to her hand. She ruffles your hair affectionately. “Eat up,” she tells you. “We have plenty more.”

Slowly, the seats around you fill up. Shoko, carrying half of Haibara’s now much lower stack of plates, settles in on your right. Getou sits with her, letting her sprawl across him. He should be the one asking for more room, being so much taller, but it gives him more joy to indulge her. He feeds her a skewer by hand.

Nanami and Haibara surround Utahime on either side. She rests her head on Nanami’s shoulder, taking slow, small bites. She’s always been elegant like that. Haibara leans against her in turn, chowing down with relish. Nanami hands him a napkin when he inevitably gets messy.

When you’re done cataloguing your friends, making sure they’re comfortable, you realize you’re being watched yourself. Gojo’s eyes are intent.

“Are you happy?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” You laugh.

He pretends to bristle. “What, I can’t care about my friends?”

You give him a look that says please be serious.

“Hey! I’m a changed man, you know. I can think about other people.”

You laugh and snuggle in closer to him, letting his body heat continue to warm you up. “I’m just teasing. I know you care about us.”

“So?”

“I’m always happy when we’re all together.”

“Okay,” Gojo says softly. He pulls the blanket over your heads for a minute. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he presses a light kiss to the corner of your lip. “I’ll make it happen then.”

“Hey!” Getou kicks Gojo in the leg. “What are you guys doing under there? Hands where we can see them, mister!”

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #gojo fluff #gojou fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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gabessquishytum · 6 months

Note

Hob mistaken for a prostitute by Dream.

Hob is just sitting in this hotel bar getting a drink when this blazingly hot man walks up to him and starts talking.

Hob's leaving tomorrow and had been in dumb meetings all day selling his tech company for more money than he thought existed for an idea he came up with his late wife; He and Robyn will be set for life (2 or 3 lives). Hob just wanted a drink to decompress (and quietly freak out). Somehow, this hot guy, who didn't share his name, talked Hob up to his room and blew his back out/they blew each others' backs out (Hob honestly stopped tracking when they front'ed against the room door to a fast 1st one each).

When Hob wakes up the next morning to a pile of cash and a note on hotel stationary saying 'thanks and hope this covers it + tip', he's gobsmacked. 1. It was a lot of money - at least he's a good whore; and 2. Hob didn't think they connected for a long term thing or anything, but he certainly didn't think his stranger thought he was on the job!

Well, life is weird and full, and this will be a great story for his friends at the pub -- Joanna is going to give him so much sh*t. Hob certainly doesn't expect to see his stranger again, now.

This is my new favourite thing. I’m actually so tempted to throw this in my wip pile because omg. I LOVE sex worker Hob, but not-actually-a-sex-worker Hob is so fucking funny and weirdly hot.

Anyway, it keeps Hob from moping as he starts his new life with Robyn. Whenever he’s sad he has a little chuckle about that night. He’ll mutter “chin up, you’re a good whore remember?” whenever he’s having a crisis. He’s moved to this smallish village with a school for Robyn and a nice little pub where Hob has taken on a few shifts that he doesn’t need but hey, they were short staffed. He’s made a small circle of friends and Robyn’s grandparents are just down the road. It’s a very comfortable life.

And then one night he’s hanging out with his friends at the pub, and someone new comes in. Hob doesn’t get a glimpse until Joanna waves the stranger over and introduces him as an old uni mate.

It’s the guy. The hot guy who paid him £4000 cash for sex. Holy shit.

Their eyes meet and Hob feels his face turn bright red. The stranger introduces himself as Morpheus and sits down awkwardly next to Hob, while the rest of the group dissolves back into chatter. Which would be fine, except — Morpheus starts whisper-asking polite questions about Hob’s job. Do his friends know? Should Morpheus be discreet about their encounter? Is Hob being safe? Hob nearly dies there at the table. How’s he supposed to tell the guy that he’s a millionaire, not a rent boy?!

The worst part is, Morpheus is so fucking hot. Hob wants him all over again. And because he’s a fucking idiot, he lets Morpheus take him back to the little B&B he’s staying at nearby. Once again Hob is fucked into sweet oblivion in several different rooms, and when he’s too sore to go any more he takes over and finally fucks Morpheus on the actual bed. Morpheus gives him permission to stay the night and Hob thinks that he really, REALLY needs to come clean but. They both fall asleep.

In the morning over coffee in the kitchen, Morpheus says “I am afraid I only have £500 in cash. Do you have a PayPal account?” Just as Joanna pops in through the back door (it’s her girlfriend’s b&b, she has a key).

“Oh my GOD, Hob.” She says. “This is why EVERYONE assumes that you’re a whore!”

…and from there onwards, chaos reigns.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw sex work

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l1tw1ck · 1 year

Text

Casting: Al Haitham

bottom!ftm al haitham x top!masc reader

↳ W.C: 1,629

↳ [Event] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Extreme Dub-Con, Humiliation, Oral Sex, Cum Shot, Riding, Nipple Play, Squirting, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Virginity Loss, Cunnilingus, Creampie

Al Haitham's at a low point in his life, he lost his job and has been working odd jobs to make up for it. When he finally shared that with you, you were very excited to give him a job opportunity.

You told him it's a simple modeling job that pays well once a week, well enough that he won't have to work any other jobs. He believed you, since you're his friend, and took the job.

Al Haitham looks in the mirror with his cheeks flushed, embarrassed by the outfit you're making him wear. It's a cow bathing suit and the top part is way too small for his chest. They only cover his nipples. The bottom is a thong with a cow tail attached to if. He's also got on a cow headband and a cowbell to top it all off.

"Haitham? Are you okay in there?" You knock on the door.

"Did you give me the wrong outfit?" He asks.

"I doubt it, let me see."

Haitham opens the door and looks at you, frowning.

You stare at him for a moment before collecting yourself. "Nope, this is the right one!" You grin.

"What kind of modeling is this..?"

"Didn't I tell you what kind of company this is?" You tilt your head.

"You said it was for adult models?"

"I meant for porn magazines, videos, and all that." You laugh. "Sorry, Haitham."

He turns a soft pink.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" You snap your fingers, a group of workers hauling Haitham over to the set.

Haitham stays compliant the whole time, trying to wrap his head around the whole thing as he gets posed in the most embarrassing positions. His embarrassed expression makes the pictures even better.

"You're an amazing model, Haitham, you did well." You praise him. "Now, we should discuss other options."

Haitham, still dazed and confused, allows you to bring him to your office. He doesn't notice the other workers getting aroused by his presence.

"Here's the check." You sign off on the paper and place it on your desk.

"You're the CEO of a porn company?" He says finally.

You laugh. "Yeah, and you could get paid a lot of money by joining. What do you think?"

Haitham frowns. "Blur out my face, please."

"So is that a yes?" You smile, having no intention of blurring his face.

He bites his lip and nods, assuming you mean by becoming an official model.

"Great! Come with me." You get up and lead him to another room, the room where you cast your stars.

Haitham looks around at all the cameras in the room, most pointed at a large bed and at two black leather couches. He wonders what kind of modeling he'll be doing now.

"Sit." You point to the leather couch, sitting adjacent to it. Haitham sits down as you asked, hiding his body with his arms.

"We're going to ask you some questions now, and we're going to record it. Is that okay?" You ask.

Haitham nods. "Okay."

Your assistant starts the camera and focuses on Al Haitham.

"Introduce yourself."

"My name is Al Haitham. I'm 25 years old. I’m from Sumeru.” He finds it hard to stay serious in his current outfit.

“What's your sex life like? Do you masturbate?” You ask. “And are you a virgin?”

Al Haitham’s cheeks tinge red. “What?”

You laugh. “Sorry, I suppose that was an embarrassing transition.”

“Um, I don't have time for sex. I'm- Yes, I’m a virgin..”

“So you masturbate? Do you watch porn too?”

“..Yeah. Sometimes.” He admits, turning to the side. “I mostly read it..”

“Oh?” You smirk, standing up. “So you're not completely innocent.” You chuckle, a sort of random thought entering your head. “I wonder how well you’ll be able to give me a blowjob.”

Al Haitham turns a darker shade of red. He looks to your assistant, who's smiling at him and wordlessly telling him to get down. He gets on his knees, earning a thumbs up from them.

He turns to you and gets slapped in the face by your cock. Everything else was embarrassing but having your fat cock resting on his face is humiliating, he feels like a whore.

“Don't you look cute.” You turn on your mini video camera and record his pretty expression. “Say ‘ah’” You grin, moving back and tapping on his lips with the tip of your cock.

Haitham opens his mouth, cheeks burning hot as he lets your thick length enter him.

“Pretend it's a popsicle.” You suggest.

Al Haitham sucks you off slowly and with clear inexperience, just barely able to take you.

“You’re so adorable, Haitham.” You coo, ringing the bell on his neck.

He looks up at you with the cutest expression on his face, an expression that makes you want to ruin him. You're glad you have this on camera.

“Gods, I could come just from looking at you.” You sigh gently. “Such a pretty little thing. Why don't you try going faster?”

Haitham sloppily sucks your cock, making obscene noises and trying his best to please you despite how humiliating it is.

Just seeing him try so hard while looking so cute is enough to bring you close to your peak.

You gently pull him away from you. “‘M gonna come on your face, baby.” You warn, jerking yourself off.

He closes his eyes, his face somehow redder than before. Moments later, he feels hot spurts of cum decorating his pretty face.

You tap your cockhead against his lips, letting out the last drops of your spend against the soft flesh. You take a few pictures with the camera before getting him cleaned up.

You sit down on the couch and pull him down onto your lap. Your still hard cock rests against his stomach, the feeling of it twitching makes him nervous.

You pull his top upwards, revealing his nipples. You only touch them with your thumbs, earning a wanton moan from him. “I barely touched you, and here you are, moaning like a slut.”

His cheeks burn.

You rub circles around his nipples, causing him to moan louder. “All I’m doing is touching your nipples, are you really this sensitive?” You grin. He whimpers, feeling embarrassed.

You replace one of your hands with your mouth, licking and sucking on his nipple. He rocks his hips at the sensation, feeling way too good from your mouth.

“Wa- wait-” He tries to move you away but you don't move. “I- Aah~!” He lets out a loud, slutty moan as he comes. You keep sucking on his nipple, using your hand to rub his clit inside his thong.

“Nnh- no- no more~” He whines, body heating up when he remembers he's on camera. “Please~”

You ignore his begging, going harder to make him come again instead.

“I- I ca-can't–” He shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes. Haitham throws his head back, squirting.

You move away from his chest, smirking. “Can I fuck you, sweetheart?”

Haitham nods shakily, it's not like he really has a choice. You pick him up and take him to the bed, turning him around and instructing him to get on all fours.

You slide his thong aside and drag your tongue up his wet pussy before sliding it inside him.

“Hh~” He moans and buries his head into the pillow, letting you tongue fuck his sensitive cunt. You rub circles around his clit, making him twitch and tighten around your tongue.

It gets easier and easier to make him orgasm each time, this time it only takes a few thrusts of your tongue to have him coming again.

You pull away with a grin on your face. “You’re such a cute little slut.” You spank his plump ass. You can hear a loud whine muffled by the pillow.

You slide your cock up and down his wetness before easing yourself inside him. His eyes widen at the feeling of you entering him, it's painful but pleasurable at the same time. He grimaces as you bottom out, he feels so full.

You slowly thrust in and out of him, causing Haitham to cry from the pleasure. He can't handle how good it feels, he's already so sensitive from having an orgasm three times.

You grip his hair, avoiding his cow headband, and lift his head up. “C’mon baby, look at the camera, we wanna see your pretty little face.”

He looks at the camera with a teary eyed expression, his lips quivering and a blush strewn across his cheeks. He can see his reflection through the lense, humiliated by what he’s become.

You fuck into him harder, making him lose his train of thought. “Gods, your pussy feels amazing.” You use your free hand to spank him, forcing more, louder wanton moans to leave his mouth. His ass turns the same color as his face thanks to you.

Al Haitham rolls his eyes back as he feels himself reaching his peak for the fourth time.

“Fuck– I might come inside, baby-” You groan. “Can I?” You ask, knowing he’ll say yes. He’s been so compliant all day and his brain is probably fuzzy at this point.

“Ye- yes~!” He moans, the smart part of him is completely thrown out the window and maybe it's the erotica he reads but the other part of him wants to feel you fill him with your load. You smirk, fucking him roughly and sloppily as you chase your release.

Haitham grins dreamily as he feels you pumping your cum into his cunt. “Mm..[Name]..” He whimpers.

You pull out and flip him onto his stomach, watching your cum drip out of his pussy. “I think we should go one more time.”

#wicks🕯works #wicks🕯️events #top male reader #male reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham x male reader #al haitham smut #sub al haitham #🕯️haitham #🕯️genshin

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holy-hysteria · 1 year

Text

“I’m Here for You, Doll.” || tlb David x Reader

A/N: Hey guys. Depending on how well this does and everyone’s opinion on it i’ll most likely make a part two. Also, if you like this feel free to make send me a request. I’ll right for pretty much any slasher. Enjoy!

————————————————————————

There it was again. That feeling. The feeling of someone watching you. Watching your every move.

The feeling had plagued you for the past couple weeks. Walking home and around town became an anxiety inducing task. The fear of someone lurking, ready to nab you at any moment lurking in the back of your mind. But the feeling wasn’t nearly as potent as it was when on the board walk. You had moved to Santa Carla about two months prior, ready to start your life. You found a job at the diner on the boardwalk that paid extremely well and cheap apartment that was fairly nice. You enjoyed life and has little cares— until a couple weeks ago.

They came in while you were working the evening shift, hooting and hollering as they sat in one of your booths.

“Evening, what can i get you guys?”

You had approached the table without really even giving the group a once over. Look up from your note pad you finally took the time to take the men in. Black leather. And a lot of it graced your vision. Three blondes and a brunette. Oh shit. This was the biker gang your coworkers had been telling you about.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts you direct your attention back to your job as you waited for their reply, but nothing came. Instead, they ignored you. Giving you a sideways glance before heading back to their conversation.

Huh. Okay then.

“I’ll give y’all a minute then,” you deadpanned as you turned around to head behind the counter. You had better things to do with your time then dote on a bunch of pricks. Grabbing a rag you began to wipe the counter off, filling up the time. You watched as you hand made circular motions against the linoleum top, occasionally scrubbing at a stain left by a mess child. Then you felt it. Turning to face the group of men again you met the owner of the piercing stare. He was blonde. And not a natural blonde either. Bleach blonde. Not only that he had a short mullet and wore what looked to be multiple heavy coats on top of each other, along with leather gloves. His state was ice cold, making you wonder if they had been trying to get your attention and were becoming impatient. The strange thing was, he was the only one staring.

Setting the rag down you made your way from behind the counter and back to their booth while shooting the blonde an apologetic smile, hoping you hadn’t made him wait too long.

“I’m sorry about that, are you guys ready to order?”

Even with your apology and your inquiry to their needs, his glare didn’t diminish.

“Nah babes, we’re good. Just gonna sit here for a while okay,” replied a different blonde that looked strangely like a copycat of Dee Snider.

“I’m so sorry but you can’t just sit here without ordering. So either get a water or something, otherwise you’ll have to leave,” you replied in your best customer service voice.

“Look we said we didn’t want anything to leave, k?”

What the fuck, is he deaf? You head been here since 5 this evening and it was now approaching midnight, closing time, and you’d be damned if some stuck up kids were gonna keep you from going home.

“I said get out if you’re not getting anything. You deaf or something?” All politeness was gone from your voice as you spoke. The group then turned to you with a look of shock on their face. But that expression didn’t last long as they began to laugh at you.

After giggling like a group of little girls for a good 3 minutes, they picked theirselves up and left, all while that blonde still stared at you.

That had been two weeks ago. And your intuition told you that group was the reason for the constant feeling of being watched. Maybe you should have just gotten your boss to kick them out instead. If you had done that, maybe you wouldn’t be looking over your shoulder every few seconds while your hands griped your keys right i between the spaces of your fingers.

• • •

Your eyes scanned your surroundings as you made your way for the door of the dinner. It was supposed to be your night off, but your coworker need someone to come in and cover the last few hours of their shift and you were the only willing to take it. You push the door as you walk in, watching as your feet carry you across the checkered floor into the back.

Clocking in and grabbing your apron, you swing the door open walking out into the dinning area. Grabbing your pen and paper, you begin to walk to behind the counter as you hear the chime of the front door.

“Evening! Have seat where you’d like and i’ll be with you in a min-“

Turing around, your greeting to the new customer is cut short. It’s him. The guy whose state has been haunting you for the past two weeks.

A smirk graced his features as he relished in the unease that was undoubtedly shown on your face. Without breaking his stare, he made his way to a corner booth in the back of the dinner.

Your mind was racing a mile a minute. Why was he back here? What does he want?

You swallowed your nerves and made your way to his booth.

“What can I get for you?”

“Water, unless you’re gonna kick me out again,” he smirked.

“Did you come here for a water or to be another rude customer?”

“Neither actually.”

What? Then why the fuck is he here?

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you contemplated his response.

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here for you, doll.”

#tlb x reader #tlb david #tlb imagine #tlb fanfic #tlb x you #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys david #the lost boys x reader

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cutielando · 2 months

Note

hi! i saw ur moodboard about baseball!jj and i work at a baseball park/field thing food stand and like i kinda thought about him like going to get something to eat/drink before a practice or a game then coming back after cause he thought reader (me i guess??) was cute. oh and if you do write this could you make the reader kinda shy. thank you sm and have a great day!!!

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!❤️ hope you like it ! ❤️

my masterlist

Working at a food truck had never been your plan.

You wanted something more from yourself. From your life, from your future.

You didn’t want to be working as a server for the rest of your life. But you had to pay the bills, you had to pay for college, as much as you didn’t want to.

You catered at the baseball games that your university hosted, the players and the spectators proving to be the best customers with the biggest appetite.

Both before and after a game.

You had been asked to set up shop once again, this time in the blazing heat of the Carolina weather.

You got there a little early, preparing everything you would need for when the madness would begin once the players would arrived at the field for practice before the game.

Just on point, one by one they started waltzing through the field, joking and laughing loudly for everyone to hear them.

You smiled and shook your head a little. You had never been one to like sports or be involved in anything even remotely popular. You were the shy girl, the one who always kept to herself and minded her own business.

Catering a food truck for an event that had hundreds of spectators every game and dozens of players had been hard to swallow at the beginning.

But your bills didn’t care about your uncomfortable you were at your job, they just needed the money. And frankly, so did you.

As you looked over at them, you noticed a group of 3 players walking towards you, which made you clear your throat and smooth down your clothes.

“Hi, and welcome to the Foodie Truck. What can I get you today?” you asked in your signature chirpy voice, smiling widely at the three of them.

One of them in particular caught your eye, JJ Maybank. With that blonde hair and blue eyes, he made you forget about everything and anything the moment he would be near you.

Which, albeit, was not very often, but still.

His blue irises burned into yours, his lips turning upwards in a smirk.

“Surprise me, darling�� he said, winking at you.

You smiled, hoping he couldn’t see the way your eyes twinkled and your cheeks flared up.

You nodded and took his friends’ orders, glad to be able to turn around from them and breathe.

You could still feel his intimidating gaze on the back of your head, making you take longer than normal to prepare their orders.

“There you go” you said 10 minutes later once you finally finished their food.

They all thanked and paid, going to leave but only one of them stayed behind.

“Hey pretty girl” he greeted you again, smiling up from under his baseball cap.

“Hello to you as well” you could finally breathe a little more easily once it was just the two of you, away from the prying eyes of his friends.

“It’a good seeing you again” he said, flashing you a smile.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. Surely he hadn’t noticed you before to say that, right?

“Again?” you asked in a high-pitched voice, the thought of him remembering you doing things to your insides.

“Yeah, you’re always catering at our games. I always look forward to grabbing a bite here before a game” his words continued to shock you, but bring warmth and butterflies in your stomach.

“I didn’t expect you to notice little old me. Especially not when I’m selling you guys food in this truck” you chuckled, but it was clear to anyone that it was forced.

JJ opened his mouth to say something, but his coach called him from across the field before he could get a word out.

“Duty calls” was all he said before he hurried over to the team, leaving you a hot mess behind.

The fact that he even knew who you were was enough for you to have you spiraling and giggling the entire time you were on the field, especially throughout the game when your eyes just couldn’t stop searching for him on the field.

♡♡♡♡♡

The game had been impressive, to say the least. JJ had, once again, managed to steal the show and win for the team, making everyone ambush and congratulate him after it was over.

You had considered going over there to say something to him, but figured it was best to pack up your truck and leave.

After all, you were a nobody for him. He wouldn’t care for your praises.

As you were closing the window lid to your truck and packing up your sauces, someone cleared their throat from behind you.

You turned around and saw JJ standing there smiling, still in his gear.

“Hey, congratulations on the game, you were very impressive” you stuttered while saying, silently cursing yourself for how awkward it was.

Damn you and your social awkwardness.

“Thanks. I didn’t see you on the field after the victory” maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you detected the slightest bit of disappointment as he said that, which gave you a slither of hope that you weren’t as invisible as you had previously thought.

“I wanted to come, but it was very crowded and I figured I wouldn’t risk getting myself trampled” you chuckled awkwardly, making him nod and laugh a little as well.

As your laughs subsided, a comfortable silence enveloped you both. You were looking at each other, neither wanting to break the serene atmosphere.

“Why did you come looking for me?” you finally asked the question that had been gnawing at your brain ever since he appeared behind you.

He smiled and cleared his throat, looking down at the ground.

“I didn’t want to say anything earlier because I was with the guys and they probably would’ve made fun of both of us. But I think you’re really pretty and I’d like to take you out on a date, if you’d let me” he looked up, a hopeful smile etched on his handsome face.

Your eyes widened, your brain hurrying to process the information you had just heard.

JJ Maybank, a college baseball star, wanted to take you, a college student catering a food truck in order to pay her bills, out on a date?

No, that seemed impossible.

“Are you sure? I’m just a girl who sells food in order to pay her bills and you’re a college athlete. Are you sure it’s me you want to go out with?” you couldn’t stop the words before they exited your throat, mentally kicking yourself.

He stepped closer to you, taking your face in his hands and shushing you.

“I don’t care if you’re the most popular girl in college or the shy girl that nobody even knows. I like you, and I want to take you out” he rubbed soothing motions on your cheek, slowly helping you relax against his touch.

You found yourself nodding without even realizing, making him smile.

You exchanged numbers, him promising to text you as soon as he got home from the after game party.

As he walked away from you and out of sight, your cheeks reddened and the reality of the situation was starting to finally settle in.

Did you just agree to go on a date with JJ Maybank? Did he really just ask you out on a date or had you been dreaming?

Just to make sure it was all real, you pinched yourself on the arm, smiling when you felt the pain quickly shoot through your arm.

You were really going a date with JJ Maybank.

Haha, damn.

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starmybrainrot · 1 year

Note

Hi!

May I request how bts members first met their partner?

Thank you 😊

np bb <3 sorry i was so late to answer- i had to make sure they made sense.

ALSO- Lmk if you’d like to see any of these adapted into full-length fics

___________________________________________

How BTS Members Got With Their Partner

Jin

A mutual friend. During college, the stress of studying had put too much pressure on your relationship. Your boyfriend left you for another girl in your class, and it hit you pretty hard. To get you out of the rut, your friend decided to set you up on a blind date. “Trust me!” She’d said. “He’s totally your type.” You didn’t trust her at all, but you still went out. Might as well. You went to a barbecue place and about ten minutes later, a tall,very handsome guy appeared. Immediately, you were a bit more nervous. You still didn’t think he’d be your type, but my lord was he pretty. It was a sweet date. Lots of laughing, a tiny bit of wholesome flirting. He paid in return for showing up late. You’d agreed to go on another date with him. You still weren’t head-over-heels, but he was nice. And so started a courtship. Every two weeks or so, he’d find a way to take you on a date. Dinner, an arcade, the aquarium, a cafe. Picture-perfect, but a very human energy. He wasn’t a boy from a drama, he was just a sweet person who wanted you to be happy. After a couple months of this, he officially asked you to be his partner. “I know we’ve been dating for a bit, but I wanted to know if you’d like to be official. I like you a lot, Y/N. Could I be your boyfriend?” Of course, you said yes.

Yoongi

The need for sleep. When Yoongi moved to Seoul and started all his jobs, he gradually stopped making new friends. There just wasn’t enough time for it. You yourself were powering through a couple jobs to pay for college and rent. At one of these jobs, you two often had the same shift. You weren’t super close, but he’d been kind enough before the burnout set in. You still said hi and talked somewhat, but it was professional. However, when he started slowing down, you started getting worried for him. Something was up with his shoulder or something. One day, you offered a spare key to your apartment. “You seem exhausted all the time. I’m kind of scared you’ll fall on your walk home or something. I live right up the block and it’s really quiet. If you ever wanted to crash there, you could.” Shockingly, he accepted the offer. He started crashing once every couple weeks or so. Most of the time he’d just sleep in the couch and leave before you woke up. But sometimes, you two would talk. You got to know how talented he was, that he’s going to be a musician. Over time, you fell for him. And he started falling for you. You’d stuck with him through all of the physical and mental struggles of his training and debut. You were the person he was most comfortable with, no doubt about it. And one day, on one of your typical crash-days, he asked you out by mistake. He hadn’t meant to, but it ended up working out for the two of you.

Hobi

A dance competition. During his pre-debut days, Hobi was already a well-known dancer. One of the things he would do was go to showcases and competitions. Even if it was something he’d already applied to or won, you can always learn from new dancers. One of these competitions was a co-ed competition. Groups of mainly guys, groups of mainly girls, mixed groups. All of them competed against each other. It wasn’t super serious- you only won about ₩1500 and you got to say you won it. Still, it was a fun semi-annual competition. During the second 2012 competition, he was doing it for the last time. He was more determined to win that usual. Given that he was about to debut in a group, he didn’t know if he’d ever have time to compete again. It was your second time competing- last time you’d almost won. Got to the quarter-finals of the tournament, but not last that. You didn’t win this time, but you got to the finals. It was your group and Hobi’s group vying for the win. It was close, but you’d ended up losing. You weren’t as beat-down as you thought you would’ve been- it more cemented your need to come back again. Victory was so close. One more time and you could get it. On your way out of the studio, Hobi had run up on you. He was out of breath and grinning. He explained that he was so scared he was going to lose, and right when you were about to yell at him for gloating, he asked for help. “I want to know how you fall down so smoothly. That handless cartwheel into a split? I can do that, but I don’t know how to transition. It was like you melted into the ground.” He asked for your number, because if you ever had a free day he’d want to practice with you. You guys became dance buddies, and even after his debut you’d still practice sometimes. He broke BigHit’s “no dating” rule after a couple months and asked you put.

Namjoon

The gym. Even though he enjoys working out alone, it’s not terrible to have a gym buddy. One day, while you two were doing cardio at the same time. You’d kind of forgotten you were there alone, so you were just talking to your friend. He didn’t mean to, but he started eavesdropping. You made a joke to your friend- something about a human hamster wheel not being practical. “Imagine it unhooks and I just go flying down the street. Explain that to an ER nurse.” Despite it not being particularly funny, he laughed at it. While he was having a water break, you walked past him to leave. He told you that he liked your joke about the hamster wheel, and you two just had a superficial conversation about your favorite exercises. After going at the same time a few times by accident, he asked for your number and you started going together on purpose. Your relationship grew from there.

Jimin

Out clubbing. In an effort to avoid the pressure of celebrity life, Jimin started frequenting more clubs- ones that people didn’t go to, ones that tons of people went to. The goal was just to have fun and forget about fame. You started frequenting clubs because of music and liquor. Pretty good combination. You’d gone to the bar to get a whiskey sour, but your friend had your wallet and you didn’t know where they were. Out of muscle memory of kindness or pure impulse, paid for you. He had no clue why, and neither did you. But it was a good decision. You started up a conversation with him as you drank. Obviously, you knew who he was. But you didn’t make a big deal out of it- there was no way he came here for the paparazzi. It wasn’t a deep conversation, just jokes about the people in there. He was great to talk to, and even in the dark purple light, he glowed. You asked for his number when he was about to go, but he said no. He said he didn’t really like to give it out. “But if we ever run into each other again, I might.” You agreed. He went back to that club a few nights that week to make sure you weren’t a stalker. You actually ended up running into him at a different club. He was the one who came up to you. True to his word, he gave you his number. You two decided to talk and dance with each other all night. The next morning, while battling a hangover, you got a message from Jimin. “Hey, Y/N. Hope your head doesn’t hurt too bad. Lmk if you’d ever want to go out sometime. I’d love to talk without yelling over ppl.”

Tae

A café. Cafés are quiet and pretty. Much like the boy who started coming to your favorite one. It was a study spot for you- good food, good music, good atmosphere. Good, good, good. You’d sit in the back, alone at this round table. He’d sit at a little table a few paces away. One day, the café was busier than normal. His table was filled up, so he asked if he could sit at the other end of yours. You said yes, it’s just a table. He wasn’t very talkative, but he smiled a lot. Between bites of food or spurts of typing, he would check his messages and clearly try to hold in a laugh. He had a very stern, cold face, but it was obvious that he was a funnier and happier person than it seemed. He’d sit at the end of your table when it was busy, and because of that, you started to develop a bit of a crush on him. You didn’t realize the crush he had on you. He loved the way your nose crunched when you focus, the way your eyes lit up when your coffee came over, how concentrated you’d get on your work. Your existence was pretty to him. You ended up asking each other out at the same time. Both of you had reached your breaking point and just blurted it out. The coincidence made you laugh to hard you almost got kicked out.

Jungkook

An art class. When he started learning to draw and paint more, he decided to take a couple classes. It was fun, the class- very calm with very talented students and teachers. Something this teacher prioritized was teamwork. Art is personal, yes. But if you ever make it your job, you may need to work with others. So she put everyone in groups. You had to use all the techniques you’d learned to depict what you would define “beauty” as. You, Jungkook, and a third person we’re paired together. This third person bailed, and while you worked on your painting, you bonded over a mutual annoyance for this guy. It wasn’t mean, more of a running joke between new friends. About a month and a half later, when the project was done, Jungkook asked if you wanted to keep hanging out. “Like go get a coffee or see a movie or something.” He was sort of nervous and it was cute, so you agreed. How could you not?

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 5 months

Text

surrender | boo seungkwan

I’m back!!! I wrote this awhile ago but didn’t have time to post it. Hope you enjoy!!! Idk if there are any warnings. Lil bit enemies to lovers, soonyoung makes an appearance, there’s a part that is inspired by business proposal (kdrama)…. Enjoy

It is finally time for your office's volunteer summer camp -- an expedition into the forest that you have historically taken very seriously. It would be completely perfect if it weren't for Boo Seungkwan, the annoyingly handsome, eloquent, confident head of the sales team, who was your ultimate competition for best camp counselor every year. The role came easily to you -- an HR professional with years of experience building company culture into something people would quit their jobs to join -- but he somehow also had a natural affinity for the job. Probably all that smooth-talking sales swindling he does, you think to yourself as you hop out of your car and grab a box out of your trunk.

There is only one girl's head counselor, and two boys'. This year, a newcomer has replaced last year's other candidate -- someone named Kwon Soonyoung. You hope he'll take your side in what promises to be the most intense year of rivalry yet, as you and Seungkwan battle for the coveted title of best camp counselor -- a title that comes with an extra week of paid vacation time.

You put Seungkwan out of your mind as you set about decorating your campsite. The theme for this camp was Ancient Cultures, and you had decided to decorate based off a viking theme. Your girls would become warriors, but could also participate in cool camp activities that were on-theme, like braiding each other's hair and adding beads, painting their faces, and — the crowning event of the camp festivities — playing capture the flag. Your team was the reigning champion, having beat Seungkwan’s team two years running, and you were not about to relinquish your title without a fight.

You have almost finished constructing the huge viking ship entrance when he discovers you. "Wow," he says, seemingly impressed at the work you've already put in. "All this work just to lose to me?"

You scoff. "It's my year, Boo Seungkwan," you sing from atop the ship, using a screwdriver to attach the wooden dragon head to the bow of the ship. “Just like every other year.”

"Actually," he says, leaning against a tree, "I think we both need to be worried."

"About what?" you ask, looking around for your wrench.

"Kwon Soonyoung," Seungkwan says seriously. "He's not messing around."

"What do you mean?" you say. You begin using the wrench you found to loosen a floorboard in the ship that looks a little out-of-place.

"You should see his campsite. It's been decorated since I got here at 2."

You roll your eyes. "I get that you want to distract me, but I'm a bit busy here, so I'm gonna have to ignore you."

He shrugs and strolls away. "You're welcome for the heads-up," he says over his shoulder. "Come by later. I'd love to show you around my site."

The girls begin arriving one by one, until there are 26 altogether. This is your biggest group yet, and you start by touring the campsite. You’re quite proud of how it all turned out: electric flaming torches that will light up at night are scattered between tents, a heavy hand-painted tapestry that you worked on for six months is hanging in the pavilion, and there are large fur rugs in each of the nice tents.

The girls are amazed by all of it. They quickly take to the Viking activities, the older girls copying the Norse symbols in face paint on their cheeks and arms and braiding the younger girls’ hair. The most outspoken girl is a thirteen-year-old named Heejin, who has already braided her hair and looks ready for battle. You note her eyeing the foam swords and make a point to do some training for capture the flag later.

Your dad stops by in the evening for dinner, accompanied by a young kid dressed in a Roman soldier’s tunic, helmet, and staff. He looks amused. “This centurion helped me find you,” he says, ushering his employees over to the pavilion, where they start to set up the feast for your campers. The centurion bows to him and then, hand on his chest, shouts, “Praetor Seungkwan requests the presence of the General at his Camp with her cohort. Shall I bear news of your imminent arrival?”

Always so theatrical, you think to yourself, unable to suppress a smile. “Yes, soldier,” you say back, and he nods stoically. “Can you keep an eye on things, Dad?”

He nods, amused, and you grab Heejin, the tallest girl, Eunbi, and a loquacious ten-year-old named Jiwoo. “Where are we going?” Jiwoo asks.

“We’re headed into enemy territory,” you whisper conspiratorially. The girls grin at you. “Keep a wary eye out.”

Together, the four of you follow the Roman soldier into the thicket of trees just outside your camp. You’ve only trudged a few minutes when you begin to hear yelling ahead of you. The young soldier runs ahead and emerges through the trees, stopping so quickly that Jiwoo collides with him.

The camp is in shambles. “Rome is burning,” says Eunbi in awe. She’s only partially exaggerating — campers clad in makeshift Roman armor are running everywhere, yelling. Seungkwan, dressed in a toga over his camp clothes, is trying to round them all up. You have to stifle a laugh.

“Seungkwan,” you call. “What’s going on?”

“We were raided,” he admits, looking torn between distress and hysterical laughter. “It was Soonyoung’s kids. They came in here wearing some kind of Chinese stuff, and they stole all our grape juice.”

You can’t help but roar with laughter. “I think I’m in love with Soonyoung,” you say, wiping a tear from your eyes. At this, Seungkwan bristles.

“Wait until he does it to your girls,” he says grumpily. “In fact, I bet he’s headed there now.”

You feel a moment of unease at his words. “Why would you say that?”

“Because that’s not my camper,” he says, pointing to the kid who’d led you to the Roman camp.

The little kid splits an evil grin at you before running away, into the trees. The girls and you run back to camp and gasp.

A man dressed in all black with a gold tiger insignia on his back stands ahead of a small group of young boys, who stand at attention with arms behind their backs. He turns at your approach. “Ah, there you are,” he says, and his smile seems…evil somehow. “Kwon Soonyoung,” he says, offering his hand. You look at the little girls, and they shake their heads.

You ignore his proffered hand. “I saw what you did to Seungkwan’s camp,” you say, staring Soonyoung down with a raised eyebrow.

“In true Mongol spirit,” he says simply. “I’m hoping things will go easier here.”

“What do you want?” You say tersely.

“A favor,” he asks, his smile dropping slowly.

“What is it?”

“My boys and I seem to be without food tonight. We had a bit of an accident at camp. Would we be able to dine here?”

You happen to know your dad brought enough food to feed a literal army. Still, a part of you wants to say no. You don’t trust the look in Soonyoung’s eyes. One look at the hungry young men, however, and you soften.

“Fine,” you agree, “on the condition that there is no looting.”

The boys sit down beside the girls and begin eating. You and Soonyoung meet away from them. “So are you planning on waging war?” You ask him.

“The Mongols conquered most of Asia under the rule of Genghis Khan. It’s a great way to learn about history,” he says easily, less dramatic now that the boys aren’t present. “And a great way to win best camp counselor,” he adds with a wink.

You roll your eyes, and he laughs. “Seungkwan was right,” he says. “It IS cute when you do that!”

“Seungkwan said what?” you snap, looking at him in alarm.

Soonyoung laughs. “You really don’t know,” he says, giggling. “Well, I won’t spoil the fun. But make no mistake, there’s more to Seungkwan than you think.”

Just then, screams start coming from the pavilion. You shoot a venomous glare at Soonyoung, who is grinning ominously, before running to check on your girls.

They are crowded atop the tables under the pavilion, some shrieking, some looking around, some crying, some clutching at the girls next to them.

“What’s going on?” You shout over the clamor, and one of the girls points to the attached benches at each table.

Snakes. You have to bite your tongue to keep from shrieking yourself. They’re slowly undulating on the benches. Then suddenly, a little girl named Sumin steps forward, more curious than scared. “It’s not real,” she says, poking the snake right in the eye.

It doesn’t move a muscle in her direction, simply continuing to squirm. You take a step forward and curse. It’s a toy snake, seemingly controlled by a remote. A prank.

This is, as far as you’re concerned, the final nail in Soonyoung’s coffin. You meet eyes with Heejin. “Run back to the Roman camp for me,” you instruct her. “It’s time for a war council.”

The next morning, you and the girls — in full Viking gear — march on Rome. There’s a ridiculous sort of tension in the air as you approach the pavilion, which Seungkwan has decorated with an actual stone statue of a Roman soldier, a sacrificial altar, and an incredibly accurate set of four pillars. A young, but tall boy, probably no older than twelve, is standing before the statue, and the “men” are in neat lines facing him. He meets your group, led by Heejin, with a bow. “I am Dosan,” he says in a commanding voice. “I am the unit’s general.”

Seungkwan is grinning with pride off to the side. The two of you meet eyes, and he gives you a look that seems to mean, “I told you they were impressive.” Indeed, the children seem incredibly well-trained after just a day at camp. You nod in agreement and his smile grows. A strange warmth steals over you, starting somewhere in your midsection, as though you’ve moved from the shade into the sun. Perplexed, you turn your attention back to the kids.

“Bring the treaty,” you instruct, and Jiwoo steps forward with a piece of paper you’ve made to look old through tea stains. It has a very real signature on it. Seungkwan holds his hand out to Jiwoo and she gives it to him. He reads it through, his eyes getting more and more wide every second. “A truce?” he finally asks, his face a mask of doubt.

“A truce,” you confirm. “If we combine our strength, Kwon Soonyoung can’t win, no matter how clever he might be.”

He looks to the boys. “What do you think?” he asks them, his face serious but his eyes full of mischief. They nod enthusiastically, and you grin. “Then it’s a truce,” he says, grabbing an actual feather quill off the desk and signing the treaty with a flourish.

You look to Heejin. “What do you want to do first?” you ask her.

She thinks for a minute before responding, “Train for Capture the Flag.”

You nod in approval.

Soon, the camp quickly dissolves into a commotion of organized chaos. Heejin and Dosan are heading up the actual swordfighting practice -- but not before Dosan sends a pair of twins on a “recon” mission to “canvas” the enemy camp. You can’t help but feel inspired by how seriously they’re all taking this war they’re in.

Seungkwan, too, is watching them proudly. You allow yourself one single second to think about how handsome the softness in his eyes as he observes his campers makes him look before addressing him. “You didn’t have to warn me they were coming. You could’ve let them do worse than they did. And honestly, if you’d asked me earlier, I would’ve assumed you’d have tried to team up with Soonyoung to bring me down.”

He gives you a wry smile. “There aren’t many people I’d stoop to Soonyoung’s level for, and you definitely aren’t on the list.”

“I’m going to try to take that as a compliment,” you say.

“Trust me, it is one,” he says, shooting a distasteful look into the trees where Soonyoung’s campsite is. “What about you, though?” he suddenly asks.

“Me?” you reply.

“Surely Soonyoung tried to ask you to join hands with him,” he says.

“He didn’t,” you say coolly, “and even if he had, I wouldn’t have done it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

You stand up. A brawl has broken out on the training fields, and you need to break it up. “I’m quite attached to you as my rival, Boo Seungkwan,” you say lightly, “and I don’t have any room on my roster for one more.”

You dance away, toward the fighters, only stealing a slight glance at Seungkwan over your shoulder. He is watching you leave, his mouth open in what looks like incredulity, but with a smile at the corners of his mouth and that same devastating softness in his eyes.

You suddenly wish you hadn’t looked.

***

The day has come.

After two days of training, a fair bit of history, and much too much interaction with Seungkwan (who seems to get more and more wonderful the more you see him), it’s come time for the Great War. It’s Capture the Flag Day.

Jiwoo and one of Seungkwan’s boys, Minseok, have been named head strategists. They’ve spent hours poring over the map of the entire campsite, planning for every alternative and educating the rest of their squads on tactics. Heejin and Dosan have headed up the infantry, because this year capture the flag features foam weapons, and if you get hit, you have to stay frozen until a fellow teammate can get to you. Heejin is a fencer and Dosan is a martial artist, and together they have taught the younger ones everything they know. To hold to Viking tradition, you have selected two Berserkers: an insanely energetic seven-year-old named Yura, the youngest of your campers, and the biggest and beefiest and wildest of Seungkwan’s campers, Junho. Their job is to whack as many of Soonyoung’s campers with a foam ax as possible.

Before the game begins, Dosan and Heejin stand on one of the pavilion tables in your camp, dressed to the nines in Roman garb and Viking skins, hair braided, face painted. Dosan opens his mouth, and begins to read from several sheets of paper Heejin is holding in front of him.

“Each of you has chosen the path of a warrior, not for glory or fame, but to defend all that we hold dear – our families, our land, and our freedom. We face a formidable foe, but know this: it is in the face of adversity that heroes are born!

Remember this, my brave soldiers – we fight not just for ourselves but for generations yet unborn. The deeds we accomplish today will echo through the corridors of time. Let us be the architects of our destiny and shape a future where freedom and justice reign supreme!

In the face of fear and uncertainty, remember that you are not alone. Look to your left and your right; you will find your comrades standing shoulder to shoulder with you, unwavering in their commitment to this righteous cause. Together, we form an unbreakable wall, an unstoppable force!

As we march into battle, let us carry the memories of our ancestors who fought valiantly before us. Draw strength from their legacy, for their spirits march beside us on this hallowed ground.

On this day, we shall etch our names in the scrolls of history. When our descendants speak of this moment, let them speak with pride of the day our courage blazed like a thousand suns!

Forward, my comrades, into the crucible of destiny! Together, we shall triumph, for we are warriors of indomitable spirit! May the winds of fortune favor our just cause, and may we emerge victorious, for this is the hour of heroes!”

At the end of this rousing speech, Dosan gives a deep roar.The onlooking campers yell in solidarity. You look at Seungkwan in absolute hysterics. “What was that?” you hiss. “That was incredible.”

“This kid has watched way too many war movies,” he whispers back, choking on a laugh. “I wish I’d recorded that.”

Jiwoo is barking instructions at everyone while Minseok talks to the recon team. Heejin and Dosan have gone ahead to meet the opposing team captain. Soonyoung emerges from the trees, his eyes hooded, the tiger on his back gleaming in the reddish sunset.

“May the best team win,” he says. “We can watch the whole game from the lake.”

The three of you head to the canoes so you can watch the game unfold. Soonyoung catches your arm, holding you back. “I think you need to see this video,” he says seriously.

He laughs at your glare. “I might be the bad guy, but I’m not a bad guy. Trust me.”

He hands you his phone and jogs to catch up with Seungkwan. You watch the video. It seems to be of a drunk Seungkwan, slumped in a chair in what must be his living room, hand over his eyes. “She’s gorgeous,” he moans. “Ugh, she hates me and she’s gorgeous. What am I supposed to do?”

The laughter in the background is definitely Soonyoung. “Stop laughing,” Seungkwan drawls in the video. “She’s seriously...oh, she’s my dream girl. She’s smart, and she’s beautiful, and she can make me laugh. Competitive. Almost scary. I like her so much,” he confesses, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Your heart is pounding. You put the video away, suddenly wondering why you’d never considered it before. The attraction between you has always been palpable, and the disdain has been majorly fabricated. But you find yourself remembering how Seungkwan carried one of your campers back a mile when she’d sprained an ankle at the last campout. Or the time when he stopped a particularly rowdy camper of his from picking on one of the girls in your camp. Or when he rushed one of the kids to the emergency room after they’d been stung by a bee because they were allergic. You’d been with him at that particular event, and he had paced in the lobby like the kid was his own until the nurse had come back to tell them he’d had an epi-pen and he was fine.

That was when your heart had started aching -- an ache you had tried to ignore, and mostly succeeded at ignoring, for two years. You rarely saw him around the office, but when you did, just his smile was enough to make you crazy. And now, here, in this place, the truth of your own heart was so embarrassingly clear. You loved Seungkwan. You had for literal years. And you’d put off the feeling for so long it had grown into something wild and untameable -- something that made you have to fight to conceal as he turned to look at you, ushering at the canoe. “We don’t have all day,” he teases, and you give him a weak smile. The light in his eyes, the wind tousling his perfect hair, that skin that basically glowed -- how had you ever lived without him?

And how could you, if you never said anything?

Seungkwan shoves the boat with you in it into the water before hopping in himself. Before he can grab his oar, Soonyoung deftly grabs it, jumping into his own canoe and paddling away. The two of you are stranded in a canoe that is moving fast toward the middle of the lake with absolutely no way of getting back. Soonyoung winks at you. You stare back, one part amused, one part abjectly horrified. You have no choice but to watch the game and try desperately not to throw yourself at Seungkwan, who is yelling at Soonyoung in the most adorable way possible.

The woods are alive with the sounds of feet pounding the ground and battle cries echoing through the night. Soonyoung's campers move swiftly and silently, using their knowledge of the terrain to their advantage.

The Roman and Viking campers, on the other hand, rely on their cunning and teamwork. They divide into two teams – one group works as a decoy to divert the enemy's attention, while the other stealthily moves towards Soonyoung's camp to capture their flag.

In the midst of the chaos, Jiwoo and Minseok emerge as the tactical masterminds. They have devised a clever plan, exploiting the weaknesses in the enemy’s formation. Using silent hand signals and coordinated whistles they developed during their training, they communicate with their fellow campers seamlessly.

Just as the sun is fully set over the horizon, the moment of truth arrives. Jiwoo and Minseokhwvr executed their plan flawlessly. The decoy group, drawing the enemy away, creates an opening for the second team to infiltrate Soonyoung's camp undetected.

In a heart-pounding moment, your campers snatch the enemy's flag from under their noses, and their victory is sealed. Cheers erupt as they make their triumphant return to their campsite, holding the captured flag high.

Seungkwan's campers and your campers celebrate their hard-fought victory, hugging each other in excitement and relief. The intense game has brought them closer together, solidifying their bonds as a united front against their rivals.

You don’t know when you ended up in Seungkwan’s arms in the canoe. You had both been cheering the kids on like parents, and at some point, in triumph or suspense, he had grabbed onto you. But now you caught yourself staring at him in the dim light of a rising moon. Trapped on a tranquil lake, with no one else around -- since Soonyoung has gone off to console his beaten campers.

Seungkwan swallows hard and lets go. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Got carried away.”

You grab his hand. He looks down, confused, at your fingers on his. “I saw the video,” you say in a rush.

For a moment, he thinks, seemingly not comprehending. Then, a light dawns in his eyes. A blush rises on his cheeks, and he curses. “Uh....I’m sorry,” he says, and then, clothes and all, he jumps. Out of the boat. Into the water.

“Seungkwan!” you yell, shocked.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, trying and positively failing to sound cool. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

You can’t help but lose it. Laughing your head off, you jump in after him, your clothes quickly soaking. “Come back!”

You reach the shore at the same time. “I want to talk to you,” you say, reaching for his hand. Your numb feet catch on a large stone, and you tumble over, only saved from face-planting into the shore by Seungkwan, who has shot out his arms to grasp you.

He pulls you closer as a reflex and looks over your face, worried. “Please watch where you walk,” he says, his voice soft due to your closeness, and you blush as his warm breath sends a shiver down your spine.

But then the sound of footsteps makes you jump. Your campers are looking for you. Seungkwan looks horrified. “Hide,” he says, and you run into the trees hand-in-hand , stepping behind a tent wall. Seungkwan places a hand over your mouth as he looks around to see if anyone saw you.

He is incredibly close. You can see the water dripping off his hair onto the back of his neck. You move his hand. “Seungkwan.”

He looks at you, distressed. “What?”

“Did you mean it?” you ask him quietly. “What you said in the video.”

“I...” he stutters, seeming to be looking for an excuse, but then he looks at you. “I did. I have never met someone who can make me feel like you can. The competitive banter drives me crazy. But the craziest part is that I don’t want to be your rival anymore. I want to be more. I have no idea how to get there.” His voice is quiet and soft like yours. “So have a little mercy on me. I don’t know how to be to you what you are to me.”

You gaze at each other for a long moment. Then, you both move together, reaching for each other like a marathon runner reaching for water. He kisses you once, twice, three times gently before you grab the wet collar of his shirt and pull him in. He takes you into his arms, brushing his warm fingertips across the cold, wet back of your neck and making goosebumps erupt onto your arms.

“What a truce,” you murmur against his lips.

He chuckles. “No, this is a surrender.”

#boo seungkwan #boo seungkwan x reader #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fic #svt fanfic

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vampsquerade · 2 years

Text

got the last request ever from the lovely and sweet @corpse-poet for Glaz and Kapkan fighting over the reader! took a bit of a different route for it and i honesy like how it came out. thanks for requesting mamas i looove you 🥺😩

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Kapkan x GN!Reader x Glaz: Romantic Altercations

Trigger Warnings: slight angst, eventual fluff, physical altercations (fist fighting), bloody noses, getting shot in the face (fake bullets, reader is hit)

Life was easy for someone like you. You were hired as a test hostage for an elite CTU called Rainbow, and you absolutely loved it. You got paid a lot just for sitting there, occasionally getting blown up and shot at. A lot of the operators were also pretty nice to you, usually apologizing for the things they accidentally do to you. Two operators however seemed to find themselves clinging to you a lot whenever you were brought back to their training scenarios. Maxim and Timur, the 2 of 4 Spetsnaz operators, were practically always at your side when you were around. They cared a lot about you and wanted to get to know you better and so they took your simple position as the best way to. It was kind of cute.

“So Y/N, have you come to enjoy this job?” Maxim asked. “I like it. If I can make good money from just sitting on the floor all tied up and having you guys shoot near me and blow me up with fake explosives, it’s all good.” you say. “I see. Do you not get tired of it?” Timur asked. “It can get tiring, yeah. But I’m not here everyday and for that I can be thankful.” you say. “That’s good. I hope you never get tired of being here with us, we appreciate your work.” Maxim said, patting your shoulder. You smile up at him and unbeknownst to you, this causes an anger in Timur to stir within him.

You didn’t know it, but he and Maxim have been fighting over who gets to have you. The two were absolutely infatuated with you, so much so that the duo constantly got into shouting matches when you weren’t around. It was surprising too, because they had never had an argument with each other and it pretty much unnerved the other operators.

Soon enough, you all reach the training scenario and Maxim and Timur help get you ready. Timur is the one that puts the cloth in your mouth, doing so gently. He also takes this as the chance to gently caress your lips, causing you to fluster. Maxim then delicately binds your wrists together with some rope, kissing each of your fingers. The sudden affection was making you a bit hazy, and you didn’t even realize that the two of them were helping you walk. “Are you feeling okay, Y/N? You seem to be a bit distracted.” Timur said. His tone sounded like he was teasing you, and it made you come to your senses a bit. “Uh…I’m fine, don't worry.” you say, laughing sheepishly. “Well if there’s something wrong feel free to tell us. We will take care of you.” Maxim said.

You give him a nod, and Timur lets go of your arm. “I must group you with everyone else. You two go get in position.” he said. “We will. Thank you for helping me in getting Y/N here.” Maxim said. His tone was oddly colder than normal, and it made you a bit worried. He then carefully helped you inside, gently setting you down in the room Gustave had told him to place you. “I will protect you. You don’t need anybody else but me.” he whispered, flashing you a grin before putting his mask on over his mouth and nose. Giving him a nod, you clap twice as a way to say thank you to him before he goes to reinforce the walls.

The training session seems to go on for a while, a good 8 matches you believe, and you were finally beginning to feel extremely exhausted. There was only one round left, according to Mark coming and letting you know. Silently thanking him, he then leaves the room, only for Maxim to step back into the room. “Did he say anything to you?” he asked. You nod, and this makes Maxim scowl slightly. “Anything rude or vulgar?” he asks again. You shake your head this time, becoming confused as to why he was suddenly so protective. “Good. We will begin this round shortly, and I intend to finish it in our favor.”

Maxim then went to lay in a separate room, keeping his eyes on you. He must have already set up all his E.D.Ds because normally he'd be in another room. Gunshots and explosions rang out per usual all over the scenario. You used to flinch at these, but not anymore once you got used to it. The first time you were here you thought they were using actual bullets, something Harry forgot to tell you. The pain back then was unbearable, but now your pain tolerance was really high.

Or so you thought.

As Mark passed in front of you, a bullet came straight through the window, initially aimed to injure him. But it hit you right in the face instead, directly between the eyes. The impact rendered you Down But Not Out, and this sent Maxim into a frenzy. He then rushed to peek out the window and shot at the person who shot the bullet. It was Timur, and Maxim was even more furious once he found out. “Ты глупая сука! Ты выстрелил Y/N в чертово лицо!” Maxim roared. You watched him rush out of the room through blurry vision as Mark then helped you up, moving you to a safer spot. He tended to your wounds and soon enough, the round was declared over.

Mark handed you to Gustave, you checked for any injuries other than the fake bullet you took to the face. “I’ll take you to the infirmary for further treatment. Hold onto my waist, you’re a bit too dizzy to walk on your own.” Gustave said. Nodding, you reach your still bound hands to remove the tape from your mouth. “Who shot me?” you ask. “It was Timur. He was fixing to aim at me but he ended up shooting you instead. Sorry.” Mark said, apologizing. “It’s fine, you didn’t know he was aiming at you…I hope.” you say as you wrap an arm around Gustave’s waist to hold yourself up. Mark nodded, and you all made your way out.

And once you did, you saw Maxim and Timur arguing just outside. “Maybe next time you should pay attention better, сука!” you heard Maxim yell. Timur simply threw a punch now out of anger, effectively causing Maxim’s nose to bleed profusely. Maxim did the same, and soon enough the two were beating each other up. “Hey! What are you two doing to each other?!” Gustave yelled. Mark rushed to go help the others pull them apart, and you couldn’t do anything to make them stop because of the state you were in. They both turned to look at Gustave, and their eyes filled with horror once they saw you had quite obviously seen them fighting. “You two have been fighting for months! Quel est le problème?!” Olivier yelled.

Maxim and Timur broke out of everyone’s arms, looking down and now refusing to look at you. “It is none of your concern. We will deal with it later.” Timur said. Now his tone was oddly chilling, and it made you upset. “Would you talk about it with me?” you ask, making sure your tone was gentle. They stayed silent before looking at each other, giving each other a nod, before then looking down at the ground again. “Gilles, Saif, help me get them to the infirmary. Make sure to hold onto their arms and keep them separated.” Gustave ordered. Gilles and Saif then came behind them, holding their arms behind their backs as you all made your way to the infirmary. Olivier followed along of course, just to help with some of the workload.

Upon arrival, you were then treated for your injuries by Gustave himself meanwhile Mina and Olivier treated both Maxim and Timur. “You know we’ll have to tell Harry about this. It’s been going on for months and the two of you have no intention of stopping.” Mina said, looking over at you. “And all your fighting came with a casualty.” Olivier said, glaring at Maxim as he treated his nose and face. “Maxim and I will discuss it with Harry then. This does not concern you all.” Timur said curtly, causing Mina to just sigh and shake her head once she was done with him. “Au contraire. But if you are really this adamant you don’t need to tell us, we won’t press further. I’ll leave Y/N here to rest. You two are finished now, so go ahead and see Harry.” Gustave said.

He, Olivier, and Mina then stepped out to leave you alone with Timur and Maxim. “Come here.” you command, breaking the tense silence. The two silently and reluctantly stand up, walking over to the bed you were sitting on. “Now spill.” you command once more. “Maxim and I are intensely attracted to you. We have been fighting over you and every time you were here was when we would be calm.” Timur said. “And I lost my composure when I found out it was Timur that had shot you. I wanted to kill him for hurting you.” Maxim said. “You could have told me. You didn’t have to fight each other over me.” you say. “We know that now…” Timur said.

You remain silent, now having to make up your mind for how you felt about them. You did have feelings for the both of them, and now since they’ve kinda revealed they felt the same for you, it was a bit confusing. And while being a bit irritated that instead of talking it out like the grown men they were, they decided to fight each other instead. “Are you mad..?” Timur asked softly. Your eyes flick over to him and you sigh softly, “I’m not mad. I’m just a bit irritated and disappointed. I like the two of you, and I don’t want you two to keep fighting. We’ll have to work on this, because I’m not dating one over the other.

“You want to be with the two of us?” They both asked.

“I do. But we can’t be together if you keep this up.” you say.

The two then looked at each other before looking back at you. “We’ll work on it. We promise.” Maxim said. “Do you truly promise?” you ask. “Yes, we promise.” Timur chimed. “Good. Now turn off the light and lay down with me, I know you’re all sore.” you command. Maxim goes to turn off the light while Timur gets into the bed next to you, pulling you right up against him to make some extra room for Maxim, who then comes on next to you. “We’re still really sorry for seeing us like that.” Maxim said. “I’ll forgive you. Hush, and sleep.” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

#r6s #rainbow six siege #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege x reader #r6s kapkan #maxim basuda #kapkan x reader #r6s glaz #timur glazkov #glaz x reader #slight angst #fluff #x reader #x reader angst #x reader fluff #r6s x reader angst #r6s x reader fluff #r6s spetsnaz

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talesfromthewanderingbard · 4 months

Text

There's Magic in a Promise. Ch1

Rugan x femOC Mature 16+ but may change in later chapters Set before the events of the Absolute. Rugan gets a job to find and transport someone back to Baldur's Gate

Rugan sighs, he hated jobs like this. Retrieving and transporting goods were one thing but people? People were unpredictable and despite his proclivity to Bane, human trafficking was one of the less favourable jobs in his position. Still, the orders had come from Darkhold and there was a lot of tarenths to be had should he complete them.

He was well on his way to Viper rank within the Zhentarim and had as a result been assigned a small team to aid him in the retrieval. Brem, who had started around the same time as himself, Zarys who he'd recruited six months back and Ollie, the newest face of his particular stomping grounds. So now the four of them sat in a small tavern in a middle-of-nowhere town near Mirabar, watching their target celebrate some achievement with friends.

“So she's the reason we're up here freezing our nackers off eh?” Brem watches from over his mug. “Should be easy money.”

“Why do we even need to bring her back?” Ollie's voice is hushed and mildly anxious.

“Because we're being paid to, lad. We don't need to know the reason, all we need to know is there's good money being paid to have her delivered to the Gate.” Brem sets down his mug. “Least she's a looker. I'll go get us all another drink.”

Rugan watches as their target clambers onto a table as the bard of their group strikes up a familiar tune, the group laughing and singing as she dances.

She was a pretty little thing. Half-elven, soft and curvy - her short height only emphasising the fact, hair like fire pulled back in a loose bun with a red velvet ribbon and green eyes. She was dressed in spellcaster’s attire and he notes the small component pouch and book strapped at her side. A wizard.

He's about to inform Ollie of this information, when the town's bell begins ringing and someone rushes into the tavern frantically.

“Trolls!”

Zarys grabs her blades and Rugan swears, watching the target and her friends hurry to defend the town.“What do we do?” Zarys sounds more irritated than concerned.

“We help just enough for one of us to get close and while the confusion is creating a distraction we grab her and get out. If someone gets her, we signal and meet at the signpost West of town.” Both Zarys and Ollie nod and the group are off. The group rushes out of the tavern, Brem nodding signalling to Rugan that he’ll gather the horses and Rugan focuses his attention forward to the sound of combat. Trolls were nasty beasts but usually travelled alone or in pairs, so seeing five of the beasts was concerning but that wasn’t his problem. He pushes inward, dodging a hefty lobbed boulder that tears through some of the locals who were desperately approaching with sub-par weaponry. He watches Zarys fire off a crossbow bolt, fending off a troll who had been about to grasp at Ollie and in his hurry he stumbles over the torn leg of what he believes to be one of his target’s friends. Shouts come from somewhere warning that more trolls were approaching from the east and he curses. Just what had this town done to draw the ire of an entire troll population?

Finally as he regains his footing and spins to take in his surroundings he bumps into someone and on closer inspection finds it to be the target.

“He-SHIT!” He sweeps the woman into his arms, lunging out of the way just in time to see a heavy tree trunk slam down where the pair had been just an instance before. “Now would be a good time to do some fireballs and shit!” The troll lifts the makeshift club once more.

“I can’t cast that yet!” She sits stunned in his grasp for a moment. “And i’m tapped out!”

Rugan just rolls his eyes and throws her over his shoulder, hearing her yelp as he does so, before running east, whistling the signal for Zarys and Ollie.

“Hey! Put me down, where are you going?!”

She drums on his back as he runs, kicking and writhing but unable to escape his grasp. The group aren’t out of the gates when Brem meets them with the horses. “Hurry, there are more coming up from the river!” Rugan manoeuvres the girl onto his horse and swings himself up, adjusting her to be seated between his arms and once mounted, he kicks off, following Brem down the east road.

The group had been riding for about fifteen minutes at a full gallop and crest a hill when they slow and stop, turning to look across the plain at the now heavily burning town in the distance. The woman slips from her place on the horse, crying as she stumbles a few steps toward the town, closely followed by Rugan who takes her by the arm. As he does, she hits at him, hammering his chest. “You bastard, those were my friends! We could have saved them!”

“No we couldn’t have, lass. Whatever angered those trolls, there was no stopping them.”

“We could have tried! I could have tried!”

Rugan sets his jaw as she screams at him before turning her, taking her chin to focus her view on the burning town, his words firm. “Lass, if you tried, you’d be down there burning right now, or being dragged off for some troll’s stew. Your friends are dead, as is the rest of that bloody town. Be thankful we got you out of there.”

They rode for another three hours before it was too dark to continue safely, setting up a small camp to the side of the road, Rugan hands the girl to Zarys to watch for the night as he and Brem look over the map.

“Tsk, I was hoping we wouldn’t have to take the High road, is there no way we can cut across and get onto the Long Road? I’ve got a contact in Longsaddle that could get us fresh horses.”

Brem shakes his head. “Nah mate, crossing the Mirar this time of year is a quick way to a watery grave. ‘Less you wanna head back through the trolls, we go down the coast.”

Rugan pinches the bridge of his nose, that added at least another tenday on their journey. “Righto. We make do. We take Blackford Crossing, skip Luscan and get fresh horses in Neverwinter.” Ollie brings them over a bowl of stew and Rugan snatches Brem’s with a grin. “Gotta feed our guest, mate.”

He walks over to where the girl sits in silence near Zarys who is maintaining her crossbow and sits on the other side of her, passing the wooden bowl of warm food. “Eat, you’ll need it to keep warm in this place.” When she takes it he takes a spoonful of his own, watching her carefully. “What’s your name, Lass?”

“Sylvhane.” Her voice is quiet, still hoarse from her earlier crying. “And you?”

“Name’s Rugan. That’s Zarys, Ollie and that ginger bastard over there is Brem.”

Silence falls over them all a little longer. “Thank you.”

The night passes easily despite the cold and the next morning after a quick breakfast Rugan addresses the group. “Right, Brem and I went over the map last night, it’s too late in the season for us to cross the river so we have to go the long way. We’re about four days out of Blackford Crossing then we make our way south. We’ll have enough supplies for the five of us easy enough and it should start warmin’ up from there too.”

“Where exactly are you going?” Sylvhane sounded less exhausted than the previous evening.

“We’re taking you to the Gate, Lass.” His brow rises as she stammers, taking a step back. It seemed realisation was finally dawning on her.

“W-what? No, I cant! I won’t!” “Sorry, luv. A job’s a job.” Brem chuckles. “You didn’t think ol’ Ru just swept in and rescued you all prince like cos it was the right thing to do, did you?”

Rugan catches the hand moving to her spell components but is too slow to stop her. “DUCK!” He flattens himself to the ground just in time to avoid the ray of projected flame that leaves a toasted heat against his back, Brem not being as lucky by the sound of his shout and the third ray missing Zarys and Ollie by a fraction. “Ollie grab her!” He scrambles up, watching her writhe out of Ollie’s grasp as her hands ignite. He strides over, snatching her wrist and pulling upward, his free hand holding a dagger to her throat. He hisses as the flames around her hands lash out and singe his skin. “Put the flames away sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not your ‘sweetheart’. Let me go.”

Rugan hears the click of Zarys’ crossbow and motions in her direction. “Zarys is a specialist at shooting ya where it gives the most pain for the least amount of damage. You sure you want to do this?” Sylvhane glares at him for a moment before the flames go out and he keeps her wrist held high.

“Ollie, take her components.” The boy snatches the components pouch from her belt like he thinks she’ll explode and once unarmed, Rugan releases her arm only to watch her try to run. Zarys trips her. He sighs and walks over, grabbing a rope from his saddle as he does so.

“Would be much easier if you just came with us willingly, lass.” He places a foot on her arm to prevent her getting up for a moment as he ties the rope around her waist, double knotting the length before bringing the other end around his own waist to do the same, linking the pair with roughly five feet of length between them and then lifting her up to her feet. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

The past few days of travel had been exhausting and infuriating. In that time though, Sylvhane had made note of each of her captors.

Rugan had kept her tied to him at all times, much to her utter dismay and disgust when nature had called - the man simply turning away to allow her to do her business. Of a night he would take his watch seated by her and through the day she would ride seated at the front of his saddle. Once the initial tension of her attempted escape had passed he had resumed an easy personality. Quick to quip and laugh with the others, a sharp eye to anything they encountered and he had a habit in the quieter moments of riding, of humming to himself.

Ollie was definitely the youngest and newest of the group, seeming to hang on Rugan’s every word. He also seemed to be rather intimidated by Zarys. He did each night’s cooking for the group and was always quiet spoken and apologetic with her. She wondered how he ended up with them.

Brem was quick witted and liked to laugh. He and Rugan seemed to know each other the most, sharing in-jokes and familiar insults toward each other. He was also a horrendous flirt, despite her refusal to take part. Behind the mask of idiocy though, seemed a dark cut-throat element to the man.

Zarys was the most serious of the group. Consistently rolling her eyes at the others, quiet for the most part unless telling the group to stay silent when she hears something suspicious. She was clearly the group’s best marksman too. Sylvie wondered if the woman wouldn’t hesitate to shoot to kill if she were to try to escape again.

It was just starting to rain when the group gets to Blackford Crossing. The city in the near distance split in two by the River Mirar and connected by the distinctive bridge with its tall, arched legs. She feels Rugan pull her closer as they ride through the streets, unsure if he is attempting to protect her from the rain or preventing her from calling for help. They ride like that across the great bridge and into the less affluent side of the city until the reach an inn and stable near the southern gate where they dismount. Ollie stables the horses and Rugan adjusts Sylvie’s cloak, pulling it around her in a manner that hid the rope joining the pair.

“You’re gonna behave yourself in here, right? We don’t wanna cause a scene or make trouble for the good people of this inn.” The words are spoken with a teasing tone she would normally expect from a couple but she understood all too well the threat beneath the candied veil. He wraps a hand around her waist, further concealing their tether and leads her to follow the others into the inn.

“Two rooms, Saer. Just one night.” Brem grins at the innkeeper as they stand by the desk.

“Three, I ain’t bunking with you pricks.” Zarys eyes Brem as he feigns distress.

“Zar, I’m heartbroken.”

“Choke and die Brem.” She rolls her eyes before looking at Rugan and Sylvie. “You won’t complain if I go get a drink will you?”

“Be my guest.” His grip on her waist tightens just slightly. “Could we bother you for a meal and drink bought to our room, and hot water for a bath, the lass is feelin the days travel.”

Sylvie wanted to complain but the idea of a bath sounded heavenly, and it hinted at the removal of the tether so she just nods when the innkeeper trails his gaze across the pair.

“Very well, five silver a room, a silver for the bath and another for the meal.” As Brem pays the coins to the man he grins over at Rugan. “In that case you won’t mind me and Olly takin to the tavern too then. Eh Ru?”

“Sure thing Brem.” he takes his room key and leads Sylvie up.

Rugan internally griped. He’d kill for a fresh pint but that wasn’t possible with the girl being a flight risk and the others were all too quick to take advantage of that fact and pawn the babysitting onto him. At least they’d get a bath and a real bed. He enters the room and removes his cloak, sighing before looking over the room. It was simple, a double bed a desk and a large wooden bathtub.

“There must be a mistake.” Her voice is matter-of-fact.

“Howso?”

“There’s only one bed.” There’s a pause before Rugan laughs. “We did enter in with my arm round your waist, lass. Besides, it’s not as though your bedroll hasn’t been right beside mine the past nights.”

“Only because of this!” She gives the rope a tug.

“And what makes you think it’ll come off now and make a difference?” Sylvie was appalled. How did he expect her to bathe still clothed and tied to him? She folds her arms and huffs, trying to ignore the quiet chuckle from the man. There had to be something she could do. Racking her brain the tender point on her hip makes a thought click. When he had held her waist, the hilt of his dagger was digging into her. If she could somehow get her hands on it… She eyes him, following obediently as he checks each nook and cranny of the room for whatever it was he was checking for. He was attractive, in a rugged sort of way. Blonde hair tied up with an undercut, half a tenday’s stubble, piercing blue eyes. If she could convince him that perhaps she wanted something of him, flirt with him a bit, perhaps she could grab the blade and either threaten him for release or cut the rope herself. A stab to the pillow to get a feather from it and even without her component pouch she’d be able to cast feather fall and escape through the window.

“Lass? Y’alright? You’re staring at me like you want to eat me.”

It was now or never. She steps toward him, keeping her own green eyes locked with his. “Well… if we have to share a bed, I guess we could make the most of it.”

Rugan’s brow raises and he looks down at her, the corner of his mouth shifting upward. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“Well…” She takes another step forward, placing her hands on his hips but feels no blade hilt.

Her eyes dart to his waist back to her face and he smirks before taking her and turning to pin her against the wall. “Removed it when I removed my cloak luv, nice try though.” He looks down at her, noting just how small she truly was compared to him, barely coming to his shoulders as he leans over her. “Now, you gonna actually behave? Or do I need to teach you some manners?”

A knock at the door interrupts them. “Your bath water Saer.” “One moment.” Rugan reaches over to the desk beside them, grabbing his dagger and leaning in to whisper. “Behave.” He quickly cuts the rope around her waist and moves her in the direction of the bed, cutting the rest off himself and sheathing the blade before opening the door. “Apologies, my lady and I were having a discussion.” Sylvhane sits on the bed, cheeks flushed as she watches the innkeeper and who she assumes is his sons bring in a collection of steaming buckets and begin filling the tub. They take two trips each to fill it enough to bathe in before returning once more with food and drinks before instructing Rugan that by the time they finish their meal the water should be ready to use and bidding the pair good night. As the door closes Rugan turns, picking up the tray with their meal and carrying it to the bed. “Eat. Then bathe. And no more trying to stab me.”

“I wasn’t going to stab you.”

Rugan chuckles. “Really then? What were you going to do?”

“Remove the rope and get a feather from the bed to leave through the window.”

Her honesty stuns Rugan for a moment and then he laughs. “Lass you woulda been better off stabbing me.” He takes the pillow on the bed and makes a careful cut in the side where it is sewn, revealing it to be filled with sheeps wool. “This ain't a luxury inn with down bedding. You’re lucky it’s not straw.”

Sylvie feels her cheeks flush again and the pair fall into silence as they eat. “So, any idea who’s paying us so much to get you to the Gate?” He doesn’t look at her with the question, focused entirely on picking the meat off the roast bird on his plate.

“You don’t even know who hired you?” Sylvie stares wide-eyed.

“Not how my people work. All I know is the job came from the real higher ups, and we’ve been offered a decent amount for once, which means whoever wants you there paid ten times that amount.”

Sylvie frowns, suddenly not hungry. “My father.”

It’s now that Rugan’s eyes leave the meal and fall onto her, watching her fidget uncomfortably. “Nobility huh?” She nods. “Look lass, our instructions are to get you there, only using force if you don’t come willingly. So long as you come along easy it’ll be fine. And you got out once so I’m sure you will again.” His words are half muffled as he finishes his meal and she sets hers aside.

“So if I come willingly you won’t tie us together again?”

“Providin’ you don’t try runnin’ or burning Brem’s moustache off again.” He grins as he watches her suppress a chuckle. “Why’d you leave?” When she doesn’t answer he drinks the last of his mead before setting aside his plate and standing. “Righto then, the bath should be ready. You jump in, I gotta use the chamberpot. Remember, no runnin off.”

She nods and he leaves the room leaving her alone.

Sylvhane walks over to the bath, noting the small shelf with a few vials of hair oil, scented oil and the bar of soap along with a bucket and jug for rinsing. She opens one of the scent oils, taking in the strong jasmine and blackberry aroma and places a few drops in the bath before beginning to undress. Once free of the clothing she steps into the water and sighs as she lowers herself. It was still just that slightest bit hot but she relished in the relief it gave her muscles that were sore from riding. When the door to the room opens she ducks down, thankful for the high sides to the wooden tub. She listens to the sounds of Rugan moving around the room, assuming he’s clearing the tray of food and settling in for the evening until she hears him just beside the bath. “Move forward then lass.” “What?!” Her hands instinctively move to cover her chest and is about to look up at him but quickly realising he’s also undressed, stops herself.

“The bath will only stay hot for so long and I’m sure you aint much different than most other women i’ve seen.” he steps over the side, moving to lower himself into the water behind her. The water rises up around her chest as she feels his legs move either side of her. “Besides, you were the one who said we should make the most of this.”

“I didn’t mean it and you know that!” Her face felt like it would catch fire as she sits, leant forward in the water and hears him chuckle behind.

He reaches over, taking the soap from the shelf and without hesitation begins to wash her back, running the bar across tense, knotted muscles. She jumps at first but it’s not long until his skilled hands have her instinctually relaxing. “You want me to wash your hair too?” She wanted to say no, really, but as embarrassed as she was she couldn’t deny how nice it was to have someone do this. “P-please.” He reaches over, scooping some of the clean water and with his free hand, adjusting her head backward so as not to let the water run to her eyes as he wets her hair. He then moves through the motions - adding the hair oil, lathering, massaging her scalp, neck and shoulders and then instructing her to close her eyes and tilt her head back once more so he can rinse the soap from her locks. By the time he’s done she feels the weight of exhaustion sitting heavily on her eyelids. “Let me wash myself and I’ll help you out so you don’t slip.” His words are quiet and gentle. Unlike those she had heard with his interactions with the others. She responds with a tired hum and he smiles but busies himself. Before long, his hands move beneath her arms, helping her stand in the tub. He follows suit and she is suddenly once more all too aware of his naked form as he reaches over her to the towelling hanging on the wall. He squeezes the water from her hair before wrapping the material around her and guiding her safely from the tub, leaving her to stand, wrapped as he does the same for himself.

Sylvie busies herself with her clothes, doing all she can to avoid watching him. Her attention is soon entirely consumed however when she picks up her clothes and realises now that she is clean, just how dirty and damaged her attire is.

“You can borrow something of mine and we’ll get you clean clothes in Neverwinter.” his voice made her jump.

“W-what? I couldn't ask that I-”

“It’s fine, lass. Besides, it’ll be more comfortable to ride in than robes. Unless you’d rather wear those old rags… or go without.”

She could hear the smirk in the last comment and feels her face flare with embarrassed heat. “Yours will do fine then, thankyou.”

He laughs and makes his way to his pack, pulling out a navy shirt and tossing it over to her. “Here, wear this. You and Zarys look about the same size, she should have a pair of pants you can borrow in the morning.”

She nods, pulling on her undergarments and the shirt. It fit more like a tunic dress on her, coming half way down her thighs. She then watches as he does one more check of the room’s perimeter before waving an arm to the bed. “After you, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

She settles herself into the bed, facing the wall and feeling Rugan join her, pulling the blankets up over her to tuck her in. She considers for a small moment waiting for the man to sleep but doubts he would and sleep clung heavily to her senses. Before long she falls to slumber.

#bg3 fanfiction #rugan x tav #forgotten realms fanfiction #rugan bg3

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howaboutcastiel · 2 years

Text

Carry Me Home (Jake Lockley)

Okay I am a huge sucker for Jake Lockley. I’d love to see a platonic female relationship with him? It’s entirely up to you whether there is angst or they can go from friends to lovers etc. I 100% trust you! I hope you are doing well 🌙✨ @in-between-the-cafes

Author’s Note: I think I have a different take on this than what you were probably going for, but I hope that it’s still enjoyable! BTW, I’m sorry that this took so long. If you want more platonic Jake, be on the lookout for some WIPs.

Content Warning: Teen!Reader, Mentions of homophobia, abusive/neglectful parenting, and homelessness. Also food and eating. (Part 1 because I’m a menace, but probably only two parts total)

You were sitting by the storm drain at the street’s end, crying your eyes out.

The sun was just starting to set behind the buildings along the border of the neighborhood. It would be night soon. It would be cold soon. You didn’t have anywhere to go, exactly, and you’d spent your energy crying for a little too long to have the strength to walk anywhere. It had been a horrible, unbelievable day. You’d come home from school like any other afternoon, but you opened the front door to a wildly different setting than any you’d usually see at that time of day.

There they were, your mother and father, both home from work early and standing arms-crossed in the entryway. They didn’t look worried or sad—not like there was a death in the family or some tragic news about one of them losing their job. Your parents looked angry. You wracked your brain for what they could possibly be angry about and, when you finally figured it out, the pit in your stomach grew so big that you feared it would burst and shame and fear bloomed across your face.

The yelling and screaming that followed you then was something that you’d never be able to forget. Your mother spat the most vile words at you with venom on her tongue and tears in her eyes. She called you things you could never stomach to repeat. Your father was silent as he tore apart your bedroom, tossing your most treasured belongings out on the lawn, and everything else in the trash where he thought it belonged. You were everything they’d ever dreamed of—their little girl, their beautiful daughter, their smart and funny kid. But you were also everything they couldn’t bear for you to be.

And they would never, ever, have a child who was queer.

So that was it. You weren’t their daughter anymore, and the numbness and shock had melted away as the sun set on you and your measly duffel bag of belongings, leaving room for the panic and sorrow that was underneath it all. They’d taken your phone—they paid the phone bill, of course—so you didn’t have anyone to call for help. Maybe one of your friends would have let you crash on their couch for a day or two, but other than that, you really had nowhere to go. This part of town just wasn’t safe, though, and the chill of the night was already seeping into your bones with every passing, darkening moment. You had to go somewhere.

Maybe the local shelter could take you in, just for the night. Maybe you’d be warm and safe there. You’d volunteered a few times at their soup kitchen with your church group. They seemed welcoming enough, though the facilities were hardly much better than just being on the street. Anything to get out of this cold, though.

So, you held up your weak and shaking arm, and you hailed yourself a taxi.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped into the back seat, the warm air of the cab soothing your rigid muscles. The driver peered at you through the mirror, his brow furrowing in concern as he saw the tears in your young eyes. He tried to be professional, though.

“Where to?”

“The shelter on 3rd,” you huffed out. He didn’t seem to like that answer very much. The driver turned to face you, placing his hand on the headrest of the passenger’s seat and giving a stern look. You felt your face burn hot. “I have money for the ride, I swear.”

“You’re going to the shelter?” He asked, his voice deep and accusatory, though you were sure he didn’t mean it to be. You nodded your head, feeling as though his eyes were burning a hole in you.

“I don’t know the address, but I know it’s on 3rd street somewhere…”

“Is your family there?” His voice lightened and his face turned soft. You felt more tears streaming down your face, and your heart panged as the word family rang in your ears.

“No, they aren’t.” Your voice broke around the words, and you crunched your face to fight back the sob bubbling up in your throat. “It’s just me.”

He surveyed your body with his eyes, taking in how you were shaking and how your duffel was stuffed almost to the point of bursting at the seams. You had nothing to do but stare back at him. He was younger than your parents, maybe mid-thirties, though he had dark circles under his eyes that made him look wise for his age. A few unruly black curls peeked from under his flat-cap, and his brown eyes were both gentle and unhinged. Your father had stared at you just the same, once upon a time. A very, very long time ago.

“Have you had dinner?” He finally broke the silence. His question took you by surprise, so much so that you stopped crying on the spot. As if on cue, your stomach growled pathetically.

“No, sir. I haven’t.”

“Can I get you something to eat?” You wanted to say no to his question. He was a stranger, a nameless cab driver for a faceless passenger. You should never say yes to that kind of thing, but you were so hungry and desperate and distraught. “No offense, kid, but you’re looking pretty rough. Let me get you some food.”

“Oh…Okay.” You blinked back the leftover tears as he turned back around in his seat. You hadn’t really thought about your next meal yet. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he insisted, putting the car in drive. He glanced at you again in the mirror as the cab started to move forward. “You eat burgers?”

“I’ll eat anything.” You weren’t going to be picky about food when someone else was offering to pay for it.

“Alright, then.”

You took the short ride as an opportunity to think over what would happen next. School was going to be tricky, now, wasn’t it? The bus would still be coming to your parents’ house, and you sure as hell didn’t have a car. Technically, you were old enough to get a job without their approval, and you’d be more than happy to do so if you had a place to live and a way to get there, but you didn’t. You didn’t have anything but the clothes on your back and the few things you’d managed to stuff in your bag. No food, not much money, and sure as hell not much in the way of necessities. You didn’t even have a toothbrush.

The driver’s voice once again broke the dim silence of the cab. He had pulled into the parking lot of a run-down, vintage diner.

“I know it looks like a shithole,” he began, “but I know the owner of this place. He’s good people, and he gives me a hell of a discount most of the time. The food is really good, too.”

You were admittedly scared to move, but he stepped out of the cab and opened your door for you. He stood there staring awkwardly until you finally threw your legs out and stood on the pavement. You followed him into the diner, noting that the place smelled vaguely of cigarettes, but also like the best french fries you could imagine. The driver nodded at one of the waitresses, who winked back at him before disappearing into the kitchen. He stopped at a booth on the building’s edge, gesturing for you to sit down opposite him. He wasn’t much taller than you, but you felt small as you hunched against the table.

“Thank you,” you repeated. He smiled lopsidedly and shook his head as he pushed a menu in front of you. You struggled to open it, your fingers rigid and wavering still, and his eyes followed your hands as you set your gaze on a picture of a grilled cheese with fries on the side. The waitress returned to your table, too cheery for the time of night.

“What can I get you, Mr. Lockley?” She greeted him flirtatiously, obviously recognizing him as a regular. She paid no mind to you at all, beyond the initial surprise that he wasn’t alone at the booth. He tore his eyes away from you to acknowledge her, the smile having faded off of his face. He re-brandished it, showing his teeth.

“I’ll have the usual and a cup of coffee,” his tone was much different than it had been with you, though he wasn’t entertaining her flirting.

“And what about you, doll?” She turned to you. You felt a lump threatening to form in your throat again, but you cleared it away with a firm swallow.

“A grilled cheese,” you answered, “with fries. And a water.”

She smiled emptily and headed back toward the kitchen. You felt the need to curl in on yourself when Mr. Lockley’s gaze focused on you once again. He leaned forward to say something, his voice lower than it had been when ordering.

“How old are you?”

That wasn’t what you had expected him to say. Then again, there wasn’t anything that you really could expect him to be saying. You didn’t know anything about him, and the situation was far from normal. You blinked at him in confusion.

“Sixteen.”

He seemed physically hurt by your response. Mr. Lockley brought his hand up to his face, rubbing at his stubble as he thought. He was quiet for a long time--longer than he really should have been. You could feel the awkwardness in the air as the waitress returned with your drinks. He gave her a passing nod and a short “thanks” as she sat them down on the table, but otherwise remained in his own mind. Finally, he seemed to snap back into place.

“I should introduce myself,” he began. “My name is Jake. What’s yours?”

You stared at him, refusing to answer. It just didn’t feel right, not that anything felt right about today. He sighed quietly and flashed his eyes down to your hands, which were still holding the menu you’d ordered from.

“Listen, kid. I’m just trying to help you. You clearly had a rough day and you don’t look like you have any plan. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I can at least tell you that the shelter you’re looking for is at capacity by now.”

“It is?” You felt a shudder inside of your chest, and he gave you a pitiful nod. Tears started to well in your eyes again and you forced them down and back. You cleared your throat and, reluctantly, you told Jake Lockley your name. He seemed to relax a little after that, reaching down to bring his coffee mug up to his lips. The water in front of you looked too cold for you to want to drink.

“You would know that if you’d been doing this a while. My guess is, this is your first night without a bed.”

You looked down at your lap, effectively confirming his suspicion.

“Did you run away from home?” You shook your head, but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else. You didn’t want to think about it anymore, you just wanted somewhere warm and dry to rest for tonight, and you really wanted that grilled cheese.

He let you off the hook after that, and you sat in mostly silence until your orders came. You devoured your sandwich as he watched in amusement, and Jake ate his burger much slower. The grilled cheese was gone before you felt satisfied, so you began to pull fries from the stack. You were halfway through the pile when Jake spoke up again.

“You’re still in high school, aren’t you?” You nodded at him, your mouth full of food. “Do you get good grades?”

Again, you nodded.

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” He asked genuinely. You swallowed your bite of food and he tilted his head upward, waiting on your response. You didn’t really know what to say to that. What was going to happen next for you? “I mean, what was your plan? Before today.”

“I want to go to nursing school.”

He hummed at your response, taking another bite out of his burger. You turned your attention back to your fries, confused by his question. After a while, you both ran out of food to use as a distraction. It sat heavy in your stomach, but you felt warm at least, and it had been a damn good meal.

“Do you know another shelter I can go to?” You finally asked. It was about time that you started asking the questions, even if he was paying for the food. He seemed offended by your words.

“There’s no way in hell I’m taking you to a shelter.”

“What do you mean?” You said with concern. “I don’t have anywhere to sleep tonight. It’s supposed to rain.”

“I’m not taking you to a homeless shelter. You’re a teenage girl. I won’t leave you somewhere like that. It isn’t safe for you.”

“Why’s it your job to make sure that I’m safe?” Your tone was short, for the first time of the night. “That isn’t your business.”

“I’m making it my business.” He insisted. “I’m not dropping you somewhere like that. You can stay with me.”

You very much wanted to protest to that, but you wanted even more to have somewhere safe and warm to spend the night. The shortness of your tone fell just as quickly as it had come. You breathed in deeply before you said anything.

“Are you sure?” This stranger couldn’t possibly be inviting a random teenager into his home. He couldn’t possibly want you there. He had other things to worry about. Bigger things. You weren’t his problem to deal with.

“I’m very sure.”

He left a generous tip on the table and the two of you were on your way.

#moon knight #jake lockley #moon boys #marc spector #steven grant #masterlist

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lemonluvgirl · 2 years

Text

New Everlark Fall Fic

*very lightly beta read*

The wind was kicking up as Katniss exited her modest home on Seam street.

Outside the whole world had been turned to muted gold. The trees were painted through with streaks of orange and red to herald the reign of autumn over all nature.

The breeze felt pleasant as the setting fall sun spread its final rays of warmth over the surrounding region, but Katniss knew that once the sun had set the air would turn thinner and chillier as the night wore on.

That was why she made sure to tell her little sister to button up her sweater.

“I’m thirteen, not three, Katniss,” Primrose Everdeen grumbled under her breath even as her delicate fingers moved to obey her older sister. They were only four years apart, but Katniss was as protective of Prim as any mother was of their own child. It was just in her nature.

“Anyone can catch a cold at any age, or don’t they teach you that in your fancy medical courses?” Katniss teased. In actuality she was extremely proud of her little sister, who had been chosen out of hundreds of other students in the district to be accepted into the Twelve’s very exclusive youth medical training program. They only took the very best kids, who showed the most potential. Katniss had been considered once, when she was thirteen, due to her practical knowledge of local plants and herbs, but her squeamishness around blood and patient nudity had ruled her out as a serious candidate.

Twelve was still one of the smallest districts in the country, and although things had improved in recent years after the 2nd war was fought and won to free the districts, it was still by and large a mining community. 75% of adults worked in mining or mining related jobs, and the other quarter were identified and trained from a young age to work essential jobs in medicine, teaching, and law enforcement. Katniss herself was apprenticed to the local tanner, and when she graduated in two years she would be able to help expand the dwindling business to meet the needs of their growing district. It wasn't a glamorous job, by far. It was often foul-smelling hard work, but Katniss felt she was lucky to not end up slated to work in the mines, like so many of her other classmates.

Her brilliant little sister Prim, she had always known, was meant for much bigger and better things.

“Courses on the human immune system don’t start until next semester,” Prim said with a small smirk, “but yes, I am aware that anyone can get sick, at any age.” She finished with a small laugh, and turned back to her big sister with blue eyes large with excitement, glad for any excuse to talk about her new studies, which of course her big sister knew, and worked into conversations readily just to see her little sister smile so freely.

“Did you know that catching a virus from being outside in cold weather for extended periods of time is a huge misconception, actually, it's the congregation of large groups of people in small spaces…” Prim prattled on and Katniss paid attention to the joyful gleam in her eyes, more than her actual words as they headed towards town and the reason for their late afternoon excursion.

The No-More-Reaping Festival.

***~***

A drop of sweat slipped from Peeta’s hairline and trailed precariously close to his eye as he transferred the freshly made batch of cinnamon twists from the third oven to the cooling rack. Peeta blinked repeatedly and tilted his head in order to encourage the sweat droplet to alter its course.

It worked.

The bead of perspiration trickled along his hairline, lodging itself finally in the slightly overgrown ashy blond curls that peaked over his ears.

With a sigh of relief, Peeta adjusted the tray’s placement on the cooling rack to make sure it was secured properly, before picking up the edge of his apron and mopping up the excess moisture that was dotting his forehead.

He was sweating like a roast pig.

But 12 hours working 4 ovens and baking for an entire district will do that to you, he thought with amusement.

“Peeta, how’re the twists coming?” a familiar deep voice called out from the kitchen entrance.

Sure enough, when Peeta looked over he saw the graying mop of ash blonde waves and bright blue eyes so much like his own, only a few decades older, staring back at him.

“All done, Dad,” he replied proudly, extending his arm in a sweeping motion as he gestured towards the cooling rack.

His father beamed in response.

“That’s great Peeta! Right on schedule, as always,” he praised.

Peeta gave his father a humble smile in return and wiped his palms on his aprons.

“Why don’t you go and wash up?” his father suggested, and Peeta looked back at him in surprise.

“Now? But it's only half past five! We’ve still got to transfer everything to the outdoor stand, and then set up and-” Peeta’s list was cut off by his father’s amused laugh.

“That’s what your brothers are for Peeta. They might not be my apprentices, so they don’t have to help bake for the festival, but they still live under this roof and have to pull their weight around here. You’ve done enough for today. Take the rest of the night off.”

Peeta stared back at his father in bewilderment. He had assumed he’d be working the entire festival since he was officially apprentice to the only baker in district 12.

“Go on!” His father ordered jovially, “Go meet up with your friends! You’ve been working too hard lately!” his father added with a laugh and a friendly slap to the back when Peeta couldn’t seem to shake off his surprise.

That got him going.

With a jolt he sped up the stairs and made a dash for the bathroom, speeding by and jostling his middle brother who had been heading for the bathroom as well.

“Hey! I was going to take a shower next!” Rye complained loudly from the other side of the door as Peeta anxiously stripped off his dirty work clothes.

“Dad said to tell you to head to the kitchen!” Peeta called back through the door, and turned on the water of the shower to help drown out the curse words and indignities his brother lobbed against the door before retreating downstairs to help their father pack up the sweets they’d be selling for the No-More-Reaping festival.

***~***

The festival didn’t officially start until 7pm.

Yet, Main Street was lit with strings of glowing bulbs strung between the trees and lampposts overhead. The town square itself had been transformed with quaint decorations of hay bales and baskets filled with fall harvest vegetables, like squash and pumpkins. At the front of the square a stage was set up, but stood empty at the moment.

The sides of the festival were lined with activity though, because even an hour and a half early many of the food and game booths were open. A handful of the vendors were handing out small free samples or free turns to play.

That’s why Katniss always made sure she and Prim came to the festival early each year.

It's not that they were hungry per say, but every little bit helped ever since they had lost their father in the last big mining accident to befall District 12 six years ago. They got by alright on their father’s accident payout checks that arrived every month, but their mother had never recovered from the loss of her husband, she was still despondent and unreachable most days, and consequently never got a regular job like many of the other miner’s widows had been forced to do in order to make ends meet for their large families.

Luckily, their family had been small enough that if they budgeted well and also subsisted with Katniss’ hunting, they were alright. In fact, it was her hunting that had helped her claim the coveted spot as the tanner’s apprentice. The fact that she shot her kills in the eye every time, wasting none of the hide, or meat, was widely known and respected. The tanner decided that it was more beneficial to choose an apprentice who had ready access to pelts on a consistent basis, even if she was kind of tiny, and a girl to boot.

Once Katniss graduated, she’d start earning a real wage and then things would be even better for her and Prim. Kantiss mused, as she sipped on a small cup of spiced apple cider.

“Mmm,” Prim intoned happily as she chewed on a cranberry she had plucked from her sister’s cup.

“Ok, where do you want to go next?” Prim asked after she had swallowed the tart little berry.

Katniss shrugged, she didn’t really care much for the games or contests at these things. They were just distractions from the food in her opinion. But she knew Prim loved the entire festival, from the stupid bobbing for apples contest to the late night historic recounting the mayor recited every year.

They’d probably end up walking the entire festival circuit twice before the night was over. So Katniss ambled in a random direction while Prim practically skipped at her side.

“Well, if you leave it up to me you know where we’ll end up!” Prim said with a mischievous glint in her eye, before turning in the direction where both sisters could hear short strains of melodies ringing out. The musicians were already tuning their instruments.

That stopped Katniss short, and she groaned.

In times past dancing in the square with Prim had been fun, a way to keep warm as the night grew progressively colder. But recently, in just the past couple of years, Kantiss had come to dread the dancing portion of their festival.

Every year there were more and more boys, who were determined to intrude on their sisterly fun. Always asking to cut in, or if they wanted some cider to drink, or if they wanted something stronger than cider.

Katniss had been tempted to break Corey Carwright’s nose last year when the little sneak kissed Prim’s cheek after she agreed to dance a reel with him. No good, presumptuous little weasel. But Prim had stayed her hand, and the Cartwright boy had given Prim a wide berth for the rest of the festival, and the rest of the year after Katniss had promised hellfire and retribution to any boy foolish enough to make designs on her precious little sister.

Katniss wasn’t anxious for a repeat of last year, and so she dragged her feet when Prim tried to usher her towards the dancing arena set up in the middle of the square.

“Come on, Kantiss!” Prim cajoled with a pleading look as she fixed her large blue eyes into two wide pools of beseechment.

Katniss huffed, and grumbled, and threatened bodily harm to any boy who tried to take liberties, but eventually she gave in and followed her sister. They claimed a coveted spot near to the stage just as Mayor Undersee began his opening speech.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen of District 12! Tonight we celebrate the end to years of tyranny and oppression, a hard fought end to years of hunger and grief. On the 25th anniversary of the last Hunger Games ever fought, we strive to keep the memory of The Last Victor alive. We, of District 12, are honored to have been the District that The Last Victor called home. We are honored and grateful to have been the start of the rebellion that sparked the war that freed all the Districts of Panem, even though it came at a great cost. That is why every year we gather together to make merry on a night that once brought countless families grief. 25 years ago, four families sent away four of their children to fight, and die in the Quarter Quell. That night was filled with tears and a bitter longing for the day when every family would be free of the fear of The Reaping. Then, many more families lost sons and daughters in the war against The Capitol. All of those lives lost, all that blood shed, to bring about one simple thing. It is a freedom every father and mother alive today can now enjoy, as we watch our children play and frolic as children should, without anxiety of a future filled with Reapings. With a future marred by the shadow of The Hunger Games. So tonight, I implore each and every person here, from the age of 2 years old to 92. Be happy! Be merry! Be free! Countless died so that you could see this come to pass. Honor them by making the most of it!”

A great cheer went up as the mayor concluded his speech and the band on the stage took up their instruments and started playing a lively fast tune right away. Prim grabbed her sister’s hand, and Katniss smiled a real smile, large and free, because she was glad she didn’t have to imagine living in a time when her little sister’s name might be called in a Reaping.

She laughed as she and Prim spun around, forgetting about the usual worries of meager finances and a coming winter. And just for a moment Katniss Everdeen was a girl of 17, happy and unburdened.

***~***

She looked radiant as the late fall sunset as she twirled around the square with her little sister. She was wearing a blue wrap dress that floated around her hips and billowed in the breeze underneath her usual too large leather jacket. She had brown colored stockings on, and plain flats on her dainty feet, but her beautiful dark hair was coiled around her head in a maze of intricate braids, with little pieces left to frame her delicate heart shaped face.

Peeta stole glimpses of her from the corner of his eye as she danced song after song with her sister, always turning down any offer she got from the boys her age.

It was a widely known fact that Katniss Everdeen didn’t fraternize with the opposite sex, or anyone for that matter. People had lots of theories as to why. Some speculated that she still held a candle for the miner’s son, Gale Hawthorne who had been recruited out of high school for a specialist engineering program and had relocated to District 2 a few years back. There had been talk that the two of them were an item when Katniss was still in middle school and Gale was in his first year of high school. They were hunting partners for a few years after the mining accident that claimed their father’s lives and forced the new government to revamp the entire mining infrastructure to make it more secure and sustainable. But Peeta always personally thought she didn’t have the look of a girl in love with a memory, or in a long distance relationship. When she came to trade her game at the back door of the bakery, or when he sat beside her in history at school, she had the look of a person who didn’t have the time or energy to waste on romance.

So, for a boy who’d been in love with the same girl since kindergarten, he resolved to bide his time. She might not be ready for romance right now, but maybe she would be one day, when her little sister was settled in her medical training program as the new District doctor, and Katniss herself took over for the tanner.

He could wait, Peeta told himself.

But then Katniss shrugged off her leather jacket and draped it over a nearby chair and suddenly he got to see her newly developed curves in motion. The swaying of her gently rounded hips tested Peeta’s resolve.

He wanted to throw caution to the wind to ask her to dance with him, no matter that she would probably turn him down like every other poor fool before him.

Instead Peeta beat down his more impulsive side and downed more of the spiked cider his friends were passing around, and he chewed on the corner of his bottom lip. He tried very hard to ignore the flush of her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes as she laughed and kicked out her feet in time to the music.

But he wasn’t sure he would ever be successful at ignoring Katniss Everdeen at all.

***~***

As the night wore on, Prim danced more and more with her friends, other girls her age and even a few boys, though Kantiss kept a sharp eye on those coed interactions.

Colin Cartwright steered clear of the Everdeen girls, and stuck mainly to his big sister and her friends, lucky for him. Prim and Katniss even took a few breaks from dancing to play the booth games and eat the cheaper snacks the vendors were selling. The cinnamon twists were especially delicious.

All in all the night was going splendidly. It wasn't until Kantiss was taking a water break from a particularly upbeat rendition of the old District favorite, ‘Still Comes a Crawling to You,’ that things started to go sideways.

Prim bounded up to her with a great big smile on her face, the one that meant she wanted something.

“Katniss, Marcee McAffey invited me to sleep over at her house tonight!” Prim squealed in delight.

Suddenly Katniss’ carefree attitude dissolved into the rapidly cooling air, and a familiar frown started to form on her young face.

“Please say I can go Katniss! It’ll be so much fun! Odette and Gia are going to come as well!” Prim argued preemptively. Katniss was much more comfortable with Odette and Gia, who were residents of Seam street like her and Prim. All three girls were in the medical youth training program as well, with Odette and Gia training to become midwives. But even with the reassurance of the other two girls, Katniss still wasn’t sold on the idea of her little sister staying over at a rich girl’s house in town.

Marcee McAffey was the daughter of the mine doctor. And although Prim came into contact with their family because of the medical training program, the position of mine doctor was still fairly new, having been created only five years before in response to the death of many miners after the last tunnel collapse. The collapse that Katniss and Prim’s father had died in. Officials who investigated the collapse after the fact had argued that if a trained medical professional had been on site at the time of the tragedy, many men could have been saved. So, the government sent Doctor McAffey to District 12 to ensure that if anything like the horrid collapse ever happened again, some of the miners would have a fighting chance.

Despite the fact that Dr. McAffey was well liked by the miners and Seam residents, Katniss still had never gotten over her wariness of him. He and his family were from District 14, or as many still called it, the old Capitol. Even though he was not a part of the generation that had enslaved and oppressed the people of the Districts during the time of the Hunger Games, his grandparents had no doubt grown up in that era.

She worried, however subconsciously, he might think that all District born people were beneath him in some way. Less educated, less cultured, less human.

Katniss had still been a child when her father first explained the concept of the Hunger Games to her, when she came home from school asking questions. She had been unable to understand people, many of them parents themselves, had been ok with sending off children to fight to the death in a horrid pageant of violence. Her father had explained, with some difficulty, that people in the Capitol back in those days had seen the citizens of the Districts as something less than human and therefore, thought almost nothing of sending scores of children to die year after year for their entertainment.

It was a lesson that had shaken her down to her bones, and still shook her to this day. However, her father had also told her that people could change their minds, and their hearts if they truly tried. That was why the districts gave the people of the Capitol another chance, and instead of wiping them all out they opted to vote them in as the 14th District of Panem.

Katniss did not want her little sister staying in the home of people who held to old beliefs of Capitol superiority, but she also didn’t want to judge them without proof. Therefore, she resolved to go meet the McAffees and ascertain what kind of people they were.

Without saying a word, Kantiss grabbed Prim’s hand and marched over to where the Doctor and his wife and daughter were sitting at the edges of the dance area, ignoring Prim’s questions along the way.

“Thank you for inviting Prim to the sleepover. But my mother is very strict about who Prim spends time with,” she stated flatly, without so much as an introduction.

At this statement, Marcee McAffey’s face fell, and Prim let out a shocked little squeak.

Mrs. McAffey looked confused and slightly affronted.

But Dr. McAffey remained remarkably unperturbed.

“Ah, well that’s understandable. Can I assume you’re Katniss, Primrose’s older sister?” At this Katniss nodded, and the doctor continued, “Is your mother here? So that we can meet her and discuss things?” Dr. McAffey asked amiably.

But Katniss simply shook her head.

“My mother wasn’t feeling well enough to come to the festival. But she left me in charge of Prim. I’d like to ask you some questions before I give permission for Prim to go to the sleepover,” Katniss said.

“Katniss!” Her little sister tried to admonish her. Prim was starting to feel embarrassed and annoyed, but Katniss wouldn’t budge.

“Oh, I see,” Dr. McAffey replied with an accepting nod of his head. “What would you like to know?”

“How are you liking it here in District 12?” Katniss asked, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Mrs. McAffey laughed at her question and Katniss frowned, she did not like being laughed at.

She was sure that the woman was amused by the simplicity of her question, and probably thought Katniss was a little dim witted. But Katniss wanted to see what kind of answers they would give. If they would admit to missing District 14 and all its modern conveniences, or if they would try to lie and save face by saying they loved it out here in backwater little District 12 where people still died of black lung and the flu every winter.

But then Dr. McAffey put his hand on his wife’s forearm, in a gentle but restraining manner. And murmured, “Jean,” with a hint of rebuke.

“Forgive my wife, we’ve lived here in 12 for over five years so it seems a little strange for someone to be asking how we like it, this late in the game,” Dr. McAffey explained.

Katniss only narrowed her eyes even further at his choice of words. Game. Was that what his assignment here in District 12 was to him? She wondered.

“But to answer your question, we have made District 12 our home and are happy here. Happier than we could have ever been in District 14.” The doctor elaborated in an even tone.

“Happier? Here in 12?” Katniss asked incredulously.

Dr. McAffey nodded, and seemed sincere. But Katniss wasn’t willing to let it go at that.

“How so?” she prodded, and the doctor smiled gently at her in response.

“If we would have stayed in District 14 we could have had quite a comfortable life. Doctors are needed in every District as you can imagine, but we chose to come here, to 12, so that we could make a difference. Once we heard about the need for medical professionals in the outer districts, we made up our minds to volunteer,” the man told her in a very matter of fact voice.

Katniss blinked back at him in surprise, trying to process what she had just heard. She had always believed that the position of mine doctor had been assigned. She had no idea why anyone from the inner and more affluent districts would volunteer to come out here to a place like 12 where some areas still struggled to get running hot water and reliable electricity.

“Why?” she asked again, posing the question more to herself than anything, but Dr. McAffey still answered her as if she had asked him directly.

“That answer is simple, to repay the Districts for freeing us from the tyranny of President Snow,” Dr. McAffey replied, daring to use the name of the most hated and reviled man who had lived in the past century.

Katniss’ eyes grew wide, at his frankness and his use of Snow’s name. In recent times most people used it in place of a curse.

“You can go with Snow for all I care!” or “Why don’t you keep Snow company in hell!” were common examples. So it was unusual for someone to mention the evil man in casual conversation.

Despite her speechlessness, Dr. McAffey went on.

“A lot of people from the Districts aren’t aware of just how oppressed people from the old Capitol really were under Snow’s regime. They were spied on constantly, in their own homes, watched by the secret police and their own neighbors. Anyone suspected of not conforming to the ideology of Capitol supremacy was turned into a mute slave, or summarily executed. My own grandfather helped treat the surviving Hunger Games’ victors while he was alive. His biggest regret was that he was unable to help the victor from your district, the Last Victor, Haymitch-”

“Don’t-” Katniss interrupted him, with a slight shake of her head. Hearing the Last Victor’s name always upset her for some reason. Maybe because her father always spoke of him with a respect that bordered on reverence, or maybe because his story was just too tragic to remember on a night when everyone was supposed to be celebrating their gains instead of lamenting their losses.

Dr. McAffey simply inclined his head in acquiescence, noting the sheen of her eyes, and the tightness of his lips. He supposed maybe Katniss might have been a distant relative of the man, the hero of 25 years ago who had stood up to the Capitol, to Snow, and all their combined fury and refused to back down.

“My grandfather’s name was Dr. Felix Aurelius and it's because of him I became a doctor. Though he specialized in the healing of the mind, whereas I was only smart enough to become a general practitioner, he implored me to continue working with and for the people of the Districts,” Dr. McAffey elaborated.

“He always said we owed you, especially in District 12, a debt we’d never be able to repay, for opening our eyes, and for giving us the courage to fight back despite the odds being against us,” Dr. McAffey finished his speech in the same quiet and even tone he began it in, but his eyes held a special spark that resonated with Katniss, through and through.

Katniss took a deep breath, and weighed the man’s words in her head with the impression she got from him. She had always been a good judge of character and she trusted her instincts in this case. That and she knew Prim wasn’t a little kid anymore. She was growing up and Katniss would have to start making allowances for her to interact with people her own age. She couldn’t keep her locked up in their little house forever or Prim would start to resent her, which was something Katniss never wanted to happen.

“Alright, Prim can go to the sleepover, as long as it's only girls, and they go straight from the festival to your home, and they are supervised properly the whole time,” Kantiss acknowledged with a small inclination of her head and Prim let out an excited squeal, which Marcee immediately echoed back as she jumped up and wrapped Prim in a girlish hug.

“But just so you know, I’m the best hunter in the district and my mother was apprenticed to the apothecary before she married my father. She knows all sorts of herbs and plants. You take good care of Prim, and all those girls, or you’ll be hearing from us,” Katniss said with as much dignity as a 17 year old could muster while threatening a full grown adult man.

Dr. McAffey did his best to keep his expression neutral even though Katniss thought some part of him might privately be amused at the idea. But Katniss was dead serious when it came to protecting Prim. She was the one person Katniss would give her life for in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

“We could arrange to have Prim call you before bed and also in the morning if that would make you and your mother feel more comfortable,” Dr. McAffey offered graciously, and Katniss felt better about the decision already.

“That would be good, yes,” Katniss accepted the offer with equal grace and Prim turned around and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you!” she whispered into her big sister’s ear. Katniss hugged her back with equal force and whispered instructions to follow should anything go ary.

Then Prim broke away to confer her excitement to Macee, and the two were soon joined by their other friends, Odette and Gia until the four of them resembled a giggling, squealing mass of high pitched anticipation.

Mrs. McAffey came up beside Katniss then and gave her their address and telephone number, with an ironic smile and a comment about how it wasn’t the girls Katniss needed to be worried for, if anything it was them as the adults who’d be outnumbered tonight.

Katniss hid a laugh behind her hand and waved to Prim as the group set off, followed closely by the McAffeys, who walked hand in hand while the girls discussed the sleepover activities they wanted to indulge in, in loud voices.

After their group had disappeared from sight Katniss looked around and found herself alone at the harvest festival for the first time in her life.

It was only nine o’clock and she suddenly had no idea what to do with herself.

***~***

It was nine o’clock and Peeta had no idea what to do with himself. He had danced a few clumsy reels at his friend Delly’s insistence, but none of the girls here tonight left any lasting impression on him.

Well, all except for one, and Peeta couldn’t seem to think up a way to approach her.

He scanned the crowd for her dark braided crown and blue dress, expecting to find her small blond sister by her side.

But no, she was alone, and more than that she seemed almost sad.

This would not do at all.

Peeta wasn’t sure if it was the slightly vulnerable and lost look on her face or the small buzz from the three cups of spiked cider he had consumed over the course of the night but suddenly he found himself walking over to where Katniss stood apart from the crowd, watching the festivities with a detached sort of expression.

When he was about three yards away her gaze suddenly snapped up in his direction as if she could feel him looking at her and gazes locked.

Katniss looked at the blond merchant boy coming towards her.

Well, nowadays Peeta Mellark looked more like a broad shouldered young man and less like the sweet-faced boy who was kind enough to bring over a basket of breads from the bakery when her father died when she was eleven years old.

She glanced around to see if she happened to be standing near one of his friends or something, but she was as alone as she had been when Prim left.

He gave her a small, friendly smile once he reached her. Katniss’ brow only furrowed in confusion.

“Nice night, huh?” Peeta asked casually, as if they chatted all the time. The truth was they had never really spoken before, at least not outside of school and the banal politeness that was expected there.

“It's alright I guess.” Katniss answered suspiciously. She wasn’t sure what he was doing here, approaching her and making small talk.

“You looked like you were having fun earlier, dancing.” Peeta commented and turned to face the area of the square where people were still dancing jovially.

“Uh, yeah. The music’s good this year.” Katniss replied without thinking, because she was still mostly caught off guard that Peeta Mellark was speaking to her. More than that, he had sought her out to have this strange quasi-conversation. He was known to be exceedingly friendly and popular, but he’d never extended that reputation to try and include the district’s solitary and taciturn huntress.

“Yeah. The band’s got a much better fiddler than last year.” Peeta added, still not looking at her but staring now fixedly at the musicians on the stage.

Katniss nodded in agreement, still shooting him confused looks.

“So why aren’t you dancing anymore?” Peeta asked after a moment.

“My sister’s my partner every year. She left.” Katniss replied matter of factly.

“Oh.” Peeta nodded understandingly and stole a sideways glance at her.

“And Prim’s the only one you’ll dance with.” He said it like a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” Katniss replied affirmatively, almost defensively.

“How about food?” Peeta mumbled.

“What?” Katniss asked, turning towards him sharply. His cheeks pinked at her sharp tone.

“Food? Do you like any of the food this year?” He said after he cleared his throat.

“Um…there were these cinnamon things-” Kantiss began,

“Cinnamon twists! Yeah, I made them with my dad this year.” Peeta interjected excitedly, shooting her a proud grin.

Katniss just blinked at his sudden enthusiasm.

“Oh, so I guess that means you were chosen for the apprenticeship to the bakery?” She asked after a moment of too long silence.

“Yes, to the great relief of my father. He was afraid that out of his three sons, none of us had inherited the baking gene.” Peeta replied with a wry chuckle, seemingly unperturbed by her dismal conversational skills. .

“How fortunate for him. And are you ok with that? Becoming a baker?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Oh, yes. I always wanted to keep the family tradition alive. It might not be glamorous but baking puts a smile on people’s faces. I think that’s gotta have some value in the scheme of things.”

Katniss privately thought simple jobs like feeding and clothing people had a lot of value, but she was afraid if she said that out loud it would sound ridiculous, so instead she nodded her head in agreement and studied Peeta out of the corner of her eye.

His cheeks looked windswept and the tip of his nose looked cold, but his blond eyelashes caught the light of the suspended bulbs overhead. They were so long, she wondered how they didn’t get tangled up together when he blinked.

“Would you-”

“Why are you-”

They both started speaking at the same time and shared a quick, awkward laugh.

“You go ahead.” Katniss recovered first and prompted Peeta to speak.

Peeta lifted his right arm and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously before he spoke.

“Do you want to take a turn around the festival together?” Peeta asked cautiously.

“Like, just walking?”

“Well, I thought maybe we could play some games and eat some more of those twists. I could probably get them for free since I know the baker.” Peeta finally said, and he added a playful smirk at the end that almost tugged a smile onto Katniss’ own lips.

Almost.

“Why?” She asked incredulously.

“Because it's a festival, and we should be having fun. I mean, this is all for us you know,” Peeta tipped his chin up toward the festivities, the people dancing and eating, and talking, “It's supposed to be a celebration of our unfettered youth. No more reapings, or hunger games. Just music and dancing and a good time.” He turned towards her then, and gave her a shrug that seemed like an invitation.

Katniss studied him for a moment, his ash blond hair curling over the tops of his ears and his blue eyes that seemed like a piece of the noon day sky broken off and captured in his open stare.

“Ok,” She said, surprising both him and herself.

“Yeah?” Peeta asked, blue eyes practically glowing with poorly contained excitement.

“As long there will be more of those cinnamon twist things.” Katniss said sternly.

“I’ll get you as many as you want, if you show me how you got the top score on the ball toss game.” Peeta promised with a sweet smile, that was just a tiny bit shy and compelling.

“Baked goods first.” Katniss ordered and Peeta laughed deeply and freely as he took her elbow and hurried towards the bakery stand.

Part 2 Coming Soon

#fall 2022 #everlark #thg #fanfiction #autumn #lemonluvwrites #my writing #romance #fall feels #no games au #no reaping

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