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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

I really love when people write about c!wilbur manipulating c!dream so I was wondering if you could write on about the smp realizing that c!wilbur manipulated c!dream into being a lap dog for him but a hell lot of trouble for then and if you could add c!wilbur taking advantage of the fact that dream is a god during a fight that would make my day. Hope you have a great day.thank you. Love your work.

ooh yeah - c!wilbur is back and GGG-ing as good as ever, , which Really makes you think abt what it’s gonna be like when he interacts with c!dream again. this ended up being a little more c!sapnap centric than i intended, hope that’s alright haha. (and thank you so much for the kind words!)

tw: implied abuse, torture, drowning, dismemberment, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, emotional distress, dark content, prison arc/pandora’s vault, c!sapnap critical? not really?, dark portrayal of c!wilbur (typical MAD duo shenanigans)

Sapnap isn’t expecting to find anyone when he storms out in the middle of the night - he’s tense, they all are after the fiasco at the prison, but really his thoughts are filled with Karl once again going inexplicably radio silent for days on end and Quackity ignoring all of his questions with a simple “i’m busy” that he’d failed to follow up even twelve hours later, so Dream and Wilbur and whatever the hell happened that left Pandora’s Vault - obsidian, indestructible, tall and dark and proud - half-crumbled and sunken into the sea are just about the last things on his mind.

Even so, he’s not an idiot, so he had enough foresight to pack a few potions and gather his armor and weapons before stepping into the summer night - it’s cool under the moonlight, a soft breeze cutting through the otherwise stifling weight of the humid air, and the comfortable night is enough to make his anger die down, just a little. Kinoko Kingdom glows soft and warm from the lanterns Foolish had scattered all over the place, thick with the earthy smell of fungus and flowers, and he takes a deep breath before walking to the city outskirts to hopefully clear his mind.

He’s no stranger to late-night walks; his temper had always been fiery, even as a child, and he’d figured out pretty early on that the easiest way to deal with it was to walk or run until his brain was too tired to think anymore. Walking at night also meant he could take out some of his frustration on mobs as well as the satisfaction of setting a random patch of forest on fire without worrying about burning down someone else’s property, and once he got good enough with a sword and shield to come and go relatively unscathed, Bad had stopped his worrying enough to let him do whatever as long as he came back in time in the morning. Sapnap frowns as he hacks at a random branch in his way with an axe, watching as it falls in a spray of leaves and crashes to the ground; he hasn’t seen Bad in a while, not since he became obsessed with the whole Egg thing. Quackity had mentioned some cryptic things, and Karl was adamant that they avoid the Egg as much as possible, but he probably should’ve at least visited, or something. Bad always knew what to say when it came to messy things like this.

Though - Sapnap laughs wryly - it’d never been this bad, before. Karl distant and absent, Q somehow even more so with a new glint to his gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. George, usually asleep, never around, expression perpetually foggy like he doesn’t know where he was. Dream- evil, insane, awful, somehow so familiar it hurt and too much of a stranger to recognize. He wonders when it all got this bad. He wonders what it says about himself, that he didn’t notice until it was far too late.

“Fancy seeing you out here.”

Sapnap whirls around, sword drawn; the figure staring back at him doesn’t even flinch. His eyes narrow at the sight, stance widening, shoulders tense.

“Wilbur?” He keeps his voice wary, guarded, trying his best to keep surprise from coloring his tone. Wilbur grins at him, tight-lipped, the planes of his face faintly lit by the moon shining over them, facial features only barely visible in the dim light. Without really meaning to, Sapnap cranes his head to look around at the surrounding forest, but nothing moves or makes itself known outside of the figure still staring at him, smirking. “What- what are you doing here?”

And where’s Dream?

Because Sapnap might not know much about what went down at the prison and what Dream’s plans are and the whole mess that he’d been so desperate to put behind him and utterly failed at doing so, but what he does know is that the two of them - Dream and Wilbur, Wilbur and Dream - had been all but inseparable, strangely attached to each other in a way that spelled out nothing but trouble for the rest of them. The rest of the server had been compiling sightings of the two in the hopes of being able to stop whatever it was that they had planned, but Sapnap knows his former friend, brother, and even if he doesn’t know Wilbur, his reputation more than precedes him: the two of them are smart, not to mention paranoid as fuck, and the rest of them have a better shot shooting targets in the dark than figuring out whatever the hell was going on in their heads with the two of them working together. Either way, he knows that they’d never been sighted apart - it was always Wilbur standing on a hill with Dream sitting next to him, or Dream hacking through mobs as Wilbur followed, or the two of them stepping into a fortress and leaving minutes after - until now.

“Could ask the same of you,” Wilbur laughs, just a shade to the left of friendly, and the moonlight scatters through the leaves and glints off his glasses. “Don’t be so tense, man! I’m just going on a walk, thought I’d enjoy the night. Didn’t see anything like this in Limbo, you know.”

Sapnap winces at the reminder, that Wilbur is here and alive in defiance of law and reason and the universe itself, but Wilbur barrels on, seeming unaware of his unease.

“Anyway - how are you doing, man? Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He leans back, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, stance loose, relaxed. “I’d ask Dream, but he’s been in prison for a bit, you know? Most of what he knows is pretty - ah, outdated, not that I tell him that.”

“What are you planning?” Sapnap snaps, grip tightening around the handle of his sword. “You and Dream. What do you want?”

“Who’s to say we want anything?” Wilbur seems to grin wider, and the expression on his face is unsettling, makes something cold slither up his spine. He shakes his head to rid himself of the feeling, half-wishing it was brighter so he could better see the other’s eyes.

“I mean-” he stutters. Because Dream always wants, he almost says, bitter and angry, that all-too-familar swell of betrayal rising in his chest at Dream, forever insatiated, forever wanting, forever looking for more more more. Because if he were to escape, and if he were to want nothing, then what did that mean for the rest of them? Because if he didn’t want, if he wasn’t left wanting, then did Sapnap ever mean anything at all? The thoughts stick to his skull like tar, words clinging to the roof of his mouth as it goes dry. Wilbur seems to stare at him, unimpressed, and he feels his face go hot.

“He’s not- he’s dangerous, you know,” Sapnap says instead of answering, because untangling the awful, knotted feelings that make up his remaining ties with Dream, half-frayed and neglected and forgotten, is more work than he can handle and more emotions than he has the energy to bear. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because Dream is still dangerous; he knows that, resolutely, and maybe it’s lucky, that he found Wilbur without Dream whispering plans and manipulations and meaningless words by his side. It’ll give him a chance to warn Wilbur, bring him back to their side instead of risking his life (again) in the company of his friend-turned-tyrant. Dream is dangerous, whether he wants or not, because Dream is Dream and he’s been in too many manhunts to face him with anything less than one hundred percent confidence. “You don’t want to be with him, Wilbur. He’s hurt- so many people.”

Wilbur’s expression doesn’t change, seeming as indifferent to the words as ever; if anything, he looks a little amused. “Really,” he hums, almost to himself. “Dangerous, you say?”

“He’s Dream,” Sapnap insists, because it’s the truth, and it’s the simplicity of it, really. It’s Dream, and Dream is dangerous whether he’s on your side or not, forever ruthless and unheeding as long as he gets what he wants. He’d been in Wilbur’s place, once, convinced that Dream’s strategies and planning and infallible logic had meant they had no way of losing. He knows better, now. “You’ve fought him before! He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anything.”

And if the words are a little more bitter than they should be when he says that, who but he is going to notice?

Wilbur’s eyes stay on his, completely silent, expression unreadable. The quiet gets awkward quickly, Wilbur’s expression seeming unchanging, nothing but the faint rustling of the leaves around them to break the stillness of the air, and Sapnap feels his gut roll uncomfortably as he looks off to the ground, waiting for Wilbur to react in some way, any way. It’s hard, he knows, to realize that someone you thought was on your side had been using you the entire time, he’s been there before and he gets it, but- it’s still strange, how still Wilbur has become. How he still hasn’t reacted - is his expression going to change?

And suddenly, starting quiet and then swelling in volume, Wilbur begins to laugh.

“Goodness,” Wilbur drawls through his chuckles, voice low and dark and sending chills down his back. “I thought he was exaggerating, man - you really do hate him, don’t you?”

“What- what’s so funny?”

Wilbur smiles, teeth flashing white as the faint light from the moon bounces off of them, “I have to give you my thanks, truly. I’d thought that Quackity did the most of it, or Sam, but you- I really couldn’t have guessed.”

Sapnap’s head is spinning. Wilbur’s expression is positively gleeful, eyes dancing, smile wide and brilliant, bouncing from one name to another with little explanation to how any of them tie together. Sam? Quackity? Nothing is making sense. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh Sapnap,” Wilbur croons. “You really don’t know, do you?”

He twists his hand in a flippant gesture, eyes directed into the forest surrounding them.

“Let’s just say that his, ah- stay, in Pandora, wasn’t exactly what I’d call a five-star experience. But you know that, don’t you?” Wilbur directs a flat smile his way, and Sapnap swallows, throat dry. Briefly, images flash behind his eyes - walls, dripping with crying obsidian, the lava’s heat hard to bear at his back, even for him, mining fatigue pulling at his limbs and making them heavy. How startlingly bare the cell had been, even through the haze of his anger, Dream, slumped in a corner of the cell, barely moving, barely even breathing as it seemed sometimes, sunken-in cheeks and sagging shoulders speaking of nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion. “Apparently, being psychologically and physically tortured for months on end has an interesting effect on the human psyche. Even more so when, say, your best friend comes once in the entire time to tell you that he’ll kill you if you ever try to escape.”

“How-” he trips on his own words, lungs seizing, “how do you know that?”

“He tells me things. A lot of things, really. Did you know it takes one and a half regen potions to reattach an arm after it’s been cut off? It takes three and a half for a leg, he thinks, but the blood loss made it rather hard to remember.” Wilbur steps forward. “Did you know that scars created by healing potions tend to be much thicker and more prominent than those made by regens? Or that he can hold his breath for a little more than two minutes before passing out?” Wilbur smirks, jagged, threatening. “Did you know that I can tell him just about everything, and he’ll believe me because there’s no one else to tell him otherwise?”

“Wh- what?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him what you said; I’m sure he’ll love to hear how his brother is doing.” Wilbur waves. “And when you see Quackity, be sure to give him my thanks, will you?”

“Wilbur, what- come back-”

And with a flash of purple particles, Wilbur disappears, leaving Sapnap alone in the middle of the forest. Stasis chamber. His heart pounds in his ears, breathing all-too-loud, and he stares desperately at the empty space where Wilbur had stood like it’ll bring him back again.

Fuck, he swipes his hand across his face, startled when it comes back wet. What does he do now?

#tw abuse #tw torture #tw drowning #tw dismemberment #tw manipulation #tw unhealthy relationship #tw emotional distress #tw dark content #prison arc #pandora's vault #c!sapnap critical #mutually assured destruction #my asks !!#-> my asks #my writing :D #-> my writing

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queenoftheworldisdead · 3 years

Note

I have a request with dark prompts and tropes/ kinks from the list.

The Dialogues:

“Please, I have to get home.”

“Don’t move a muscle.”

Tropes:

Stalking/obsession

Kidnapping

(With the character Andy Barber)

Thank you in advance.

Hard day's night

Warning: 18 + Only, dark theme, kidnapping, choking, bondage, non-consent, dubious consent, forced fingering, cream-pie

Note: hope you enjoy

Dark Andy x Reader

The parking garage was partially empty compared to when you first arrived to work. Your heels echoed off the cement garage walls as you searched for where you parked. Some days you were lucky to park on L3 the prized spot closest to the ground, but today you were late and in your hurry you couldn't remember if you were on L5 or L8.

With the car fob in hand you press the unlock button. The familiar beep signaled that you were further away than you anticipated.

*Honk

The loud car horn from behind had you jumping out of your skin and screeching at the top of your lungs. With your heart hammering in your chest you turned only to be immediately blinded by the car behind you.

Blocking the light with your hand, you realized you were wondering in the middle of the driving path. "Sorry" you shouted back, moving over to allow them to pass you.

The black sedan creeped up and idled beside you. You clutched your purse and moved over closer to the side as the window rolled down. You didn't have mace, but you were sure your purse was heavy enough to wheeled as a weapon.

"Sorry I scared you" Andy leaned over, smiling as he looked up at you. It was slightly jarring seeing him like that. He had been extremely combative towards your boss during the deposition, each session ending in a screaming match.

Mr. Thomas, the defense attorney you paralegal for, had always been mild tempered. The objections during Mr. Thomas's cross drew an ire that you had never witnessed before. It was as if he sought to provoke him on purpose. Tempers were so high that Judge Peters threatened both sides with contempt, forcing several recesses to cool them off.

A process that normally lasted a few hours somehow turned into three grueling days of high tensions and long nights going over transcripts.

"Sorry I was in the way. I forgot where I parked." You jiggled your keys, almost embarrassed.

"Get in I'll help you find it. It's really late and you shouldn't be walking alone in the garage like this."

The offer was nice, but getting into the car of opposing console would surely be frowned apron at your firm.

You were about to protest when he unlocked the passenger door. With a sigh of defeat you got inside. Thankfully Mr. Thomas parked in reserved parking on the lower levels. Far from the general parking on the upper floors that you used.

"I assume your late because of me" he laughed lightly as he slowly drove on.

"Yeah its safe to say you are correct" you dryly chuckled as you hid low in the seat. The garage was slightly empty, but you didn't want to take the chance of being seen as doing something inappropriate. Idiot why did you get in the car?

Aside from him being apposing console Mr.Barber made you feel uneasy. During the hours long deposition you would feel a weird tingle, that made you look up from your notepad only to look up and lock eyes with the DA. You shrugged it off as an intimidation tactic used to get under the skin of the opposition.

---

Clicking your fob again you listened for your car, but somehow you were now further than you were originally. "Oh gosh can we turn back? I think I' m further up."

Andy nodded as he continued down the path. The signs above indicating 'More parking turn left' and 'Exit turn right'.

"Why are you still here?" You questioned him as you searched. The deposition ran long, but it ended hours ago.

"Oh.." He said caught off guard as he made a right turn toward the exit. "I spotted an old colleague John Wilson. We chatted for a bit, didn't and realize how late it was until the old ball and chain called."

Your office had a few former district attorneys. Most left the DA's office for the more lucrative life of defense.

"Um Mr.Barber.. you needed to make the left to go back into the garage." You pointed back when Andy made the right turn toward the garage exit.

"You know I'm impressed by your professionalism." Andy ignored and continued down the wrong path. "Thomas is lucky to have you on his team" he explained as he rolled to a stop behind a car inline to exit.

"Um thank you." You shifted in your seat at the impromptued complement. You hadn't done anything special or out of the ordinary. You just took notes like any other paralegal would.

Was he head hunting you? You heard about big firms doing stuff like that, but not for paralegals that were a dime a dozen.

Andy made no effort to change course and you felt increasingly uncomfortable as he inched closer to the exit.

"Um...you know I will just get security to escort me to my car from here." You pointed at the man in the glass box guarding the exit. "Thank you" you reached over to touch the door handle and heard an immediate click of the lock snapping shut.

"Don't move a muscle." You froze at his command.

"I wouldn't get out if I were you." He warned glancing at the rear-view. "Your boss might frown at you getting out of the apposing consoles car."

Stiffly you turned to peak over your seat, a cold chill fell over your body at the sight of Mr. Thomas car waiting in line behind Andy's in the queue. If you got out now you would be in deep shit. You slunk down low in the seat, in a veiled effort to hide. You shouldn't have gotten in this car. What the hell were you thinking?

"Come work for me" Andy casually grabbed his ticket to feed to the machine as he rolled to a stop. So this was just a job offer? If that was the case you were sure there were better ways to go about it. You had a nice chemistry with the old defense attorney and you were not interested in the stress of the DA's office or the pay cut you were sure to get.

"Um I'm not looking for a new job." You rejected him nervously. Hoping he would turn around and let you out.

"At least here my offer."

It seemed as you had no choice in the matter as he proceeded to pull out onto the road.

Your lips pressed into a frown. If you placate him, maybe he would let you go. He was a DA after all he wasn't going to hurt you tried to convince yourself.

"Fine, what is it?"

---

"Come work for me and I don't charge you with witness tempering"

Your eyes went wild at the allegation. "What!"

A lot of firms were dirty, but yours was not one of them. The cases you handled with Mr. Thomas didn't even rise to that level. At most he handled cases of over zealous brokers, financial fraud cases or embezzlement. The only time you ever came in contact with a witness Mr.Thomas was there with you. And even if it did you would never take penitentiary chances to get a leg up on the competition.

"Don't worry it's not true. I know your a good girl" he glanced over at you with a smirk. The praise graded you as you sat still stunned. "But that won't stop me from charging you. I'm willing to bet that until you get yourself untangled from the mess I am going to make of your life, your boss and his associates wouldn't think twice about letting you go."

You stared at him in disbelief. You barely said two words to this man, yet he was ready to blow up your life. And for what? For you to work for him? "And from what I know of paralegal salaries I would bet you could afford a public defender at best."

"Mr. Thomas would defend me" you scoffed.

"I wouldn't count on it. Because I would take him down too if he tried." He was serious.

You fell back on the seat as your head swam with the madness. You tried to think what you could've done to bring this on.

You had been to the DA's office a handful of times so when you saw the familiar building in the horizon you shrunk further in the leather seat.

Andy pulled into a reserved parking spot as the clock crept closer to midnight.

You didn't belong here. Maybe if you got out you could run for it. Make a mad dash somewhere and call the cops. But what would you say? The DA threatened you with a job, kidnapped you and took you to his office? They would think you were insane.

"Let's start your interview." He announced as he killed the engine. You pursed your lips and frowned deeply.

You were being made to interview for a job you didn't want nor ask for.

“Please, I have to get home.”

Andy paid you no mind, slamming the door in the face of your plea. Your eyes followed him as he headed toward the stone steps to the building.

What did he expect for you to do? Show up tomorrow at your office and sit on prosecutions side? You doubted the judge nor your boss would allow that to fly.

You watched him as you stayed paralyzed in the car. This had to be a joke or a dream. Had you slipped in the parking garage earlier and bumped your head. You tried pinching yourself to snap out of it only to be disheartened by the gravity of this situation.

---

Andy led you down the empty hallways, until he stopped at a door that bared his name.

You stood back while he unlocked it and motioned you to go inside. You couldn't move, dread cemented you in place. It was a miracle he had got you to come this far.

Andy tsked and shook his head in disappointment as he walked inside.

You tried to play back every encounter, every word you could've uttered that could've spearheaded this, but there was nothing.

You would've been surprised if he even knew your name, you couldn't even recall it being mentioned during the depositions.

While you drowned in despair Andy shimmed out of his blazer, tossing it on a chair off to the side.

"You're wasting your potential with Thomas" Andy declared, perching himself on the edge of his desk.

"I can tell your very focused and career driven." He continued on. It was surreal, watching him unbutton and roll up his sleeves. Like a disappointed father ready to reprimand their child.

"I noticed it from the start." The anticipation of what was to come became too much under the weight of his stare. You hugged yourself defensively while warm Tears streamed down your cheek.

It was as if he were a wolf ready to swallow you whole. You squeezed your eyes shut unable to hold his stare.

"Eyes on me" he said firmly. You sniffed uncontrollably as you forced them back open. "Good girl" Andy praised, adjusting his cock. He delighted in this, wetting his bottom lip, reveling in your discomfort.

"With a little more discipline and guidance you will reach your full potential. And I want to help you do that" Andy grunted as he loosened then knot of his tie.

Andy stayed sat before you unmoved by your tears as he slipped the fabric from around his neck, pulling it taunt with one hand while wrapping it around the other.

"You just need a firm hand to mold you. Or you can stay out there and watch as I turn your world upside down."

What could you say? He had you where he wanted you. You held your head low, sobbing to yourself as you approached him. You were no match for the power of the DA's office.

Andy rose from his perch and circled you like a shark with blood in the water. "Hands behind your back." He whispered into the shell of your ear. You looked back at him eyes wet with tears pleading. He sighed disappointed again taking matters into his own hands. You whimpered as he pried your hands from their hold, forcing them behind your back.

"Please Mr. Barber " you chanted as he encompassed your wrist with the tie. Knotting it so tight you feared for the circulation of your hands.

---

Andy's firm body pressed against you, his arms wrapped around you, roaming your body freely. The fabric of the tie burned as you struggled to free yourself. He ripped open your cheap blouse with ease, groping your breast over your bra. You withered in his embrace, unable to fight back.

"You made it hard to concentrate" he hummed into your neck while he played with your hard nipples over the fabric. The heat of his breath and the kneading of your breast electrified the coil that tightened in your core.

You tried to crouch into your shoulders, but Andy cupped your chin harshly. Forcing you to expose your neck to him and endure his assault. You went rigid when his other hand started to trail down your abdomen, tunneling past your waistline in desperate pursuit of your mound.

"Sitting so quiet, taking notes."

Your tears glazed Andy's hand as he forced you to look at him as he plunged beneath the elastic of your panties. His eyes clouded with lust at the sight of your facial contortions. Your clit buzzed as his fingers moved over it. You clamped your thighs tightly around his palm in an effort to stop further intrusion, but he pressed on. Rubbing firmly against your mound repeatedly, sparking an unwanted warmth. You felt shame and guilt as heat pooled in his hand.

"Hmmm so ready to be my perfect little helper." Andy purred.

"Are you ready to be molded by me" he teased. Andy pushed his fingers inside of you, releasing a gasp you could not contain.

"Fuck you're so tight" Andy cursed in your ear while he fingered you.

You bit down on your lip to stop the moan trapped in your throat. The embarrassing wetness, the involuntary moans, it was as if your body no longer belonged to you. Andy manipulated you like a puppet on a string.

You exhaled deeply when he pulled his fingers from you and released your neck. You panted from the over stimulation.

He built up a need and left you cradling on the edge. Without warning Andy spun you by the shoulder to face him.

"Look at you my needy little helper. Ready to learn." He smirked at you.

Your eyes went wide when he began unfastening his belt. You didn't want to find out what he would use that for. Your flight response started to kick into high gear as he closed the space between you.

Reflexively you took a step backwards, almost stumbling to the floor when you tripped on the leg of the chair behind you.

There was no way out of the room without going past him. You doubted you would get far even if you tried. The back of your legs hit his desk, halting your movements.

"Gonna be my perfect little helper?"

You opened your mouth to finally scream, but Andy swiftly rushed you. The grip on your neck felt deadly as you croaked. He leaned his weight on you, tipping you over until you slammed hard on his desk.

Whatever trinkets he had on his desk dug into your back and arms painfully. Andy wedged himself between your thighs, and haphazardly fumbled with his pants. Pushing them down with one hand as he kept you pinned with the other. You bucked and squirmed when you felt his need pressed on your pelvis.

Your skirt had rode up past your waist leaving your thin panties the last line of defense.

"Don't do this please Mr. Barber please I'll work for you please." Choked out incoherently.

You bucked more feverishly when he yanked your panties to the side. The tip of his cock lined up against your entrance.

"That's it. That's my good little helper. So wet for me." Andy praised as his sunk into you as he kept a firm hold on your neck. Your pussy pulsed around him as you strained to adjust. He made you painfully full.

Andy lifted up your left thigh, allowing himself to sink deeper. The added weight of him on top of you married with the pain from your arms.

His focused grip on your neck helped muffle your mewls, but not the sloppy sounds of your cunt. You turned away from his face as he rolled his hips into you. Only to be met with the smiling faces of his family. The facade of his wholesome life seemingly entrained by your predicament.

"Perfect little cunt fits me so well."

Your pussy clenched with every praise to your shame. There was no way to bite back the need he fed deep within you. Your stomach tensed as a staggered moan fell from your mouth.

Your feet curled in the air as your thighs squeezed around him. You felt of mix of shame and disappointment as you came around his cock.

Loosening his grip on your neck Andy could no longer hold himself back. He filled you to the brim, his seed seeped out of you as you milked him dry.

He laid on you briefly, panting heavily before pulling off. Carefully adjusting himself as he watched his cum drizzle down your raw cunt. "Get yourself cleaned up. We have cross in a few hours."

#Dark Andy Barber x Reader #Dark!Andy!Barber x Reader #Dark Andy x Reader #Dark!Andy x Reader #Dark!Andy!Barber x Black!Reader #Dark!Andy!Barber x Black Reader #Dark Andy Barber x Black!Reader #Dark Andy Barber X Black Reader #Dark!Andy x Black!Reader #Dark Andy x Black Reader #Dark Andy X Black!Reader #black writer #asked and answered

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lipstickstainz · 3 years

Text

true lies - s. r. (10/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: A case brings you back to Cat Adams - and there’s a lot she has to say.

Warnings: angst, be prepared

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long and it’s so short, but.i tried really hard. hope you enjoy. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

Annoyed, you slap the steering wheel with the flat of your hand as if it will magically make the traffic jam in front of you disappear.

Ever since you ended the friendship between Spencer and you, the universe seems to want to punish you. First, a pipe broke in your apartment, flooding your bathroom. Apparently, it was fixed so well that two days later, suddenly no water arrived in your apartment, right when you were in the shower. Yesterday morning, none of your three alarm clocks rang, which is why you were way late for work.

And now you've been stuck in traffic for about an hour, and even though all the lights are green, you're not moving forward at all. You are lucky that you left an hour earlier than usual today and apparently you had a good nose. In the next few days you would leave nothing to chance.

The only positive thing about your bad luck is that all the stress doesn't leave you any time to think about Spencer, and since he's currently still teaching and not on BAU, you don't have to see him either. You wouldn't be able to stand wanting to be close to him without being able to. Even though it was your choice to turn away from him. But that doesn't mean it's any less painful.

When you finally get to the office, you head straight to the round table where everyone is already waiting for you. Even Spencer is sitting at his seat, and as your eyes meet, your blood freezes in your veins. What is he doing here? Did you miscount the days he wasn't supposed to be here? Or are you just unlucky again?

Emily stands next to Penelope next to the screen. In her hand she holds a file that looks very familiar. "Top secret" is written on it, and the fact that you're all here now - even Spencer - is definitely not a good sign. "Married men have been found dead in several states," she begins to speak, and Penelope shows the crime scene images on the screen. "They were always shot at close range."

"Seems personal", JJ says.

"What about the wives?", asks Tara. "Were they unhappy marriages?"

As the team speculates, you look more closely at the photos on your tablet. One of the men is wearing an expensive watch; another has a black American Express in his wallet.All of the men are dressed fancier, as if they had been on a date, but apparently not with their own wives, because they all had water-tight alibis. Something about this case feels eerily familiar.

You take a look at the family pictures that had been sent to you. Some of the men had children, others didn't, but they all lived very luxuriously. Big houses, several cars. Bigwigs. Their lives seemed perfect. Maybe a little too perfect.

"So the killer is targeting rich, married men?", speaks up Luke. "But why these particular men? There are no connections between them, and I doubt they were chosen at random."

It wasn't random, you add in thought. Somewhere in your brain synapses link and it lays on the tip of your tongue, but you can't name it. The thought is like an itch you can't get rid of and you'd love to rip the hair off your head, it bothers you so much.

"Who throws themselves at married men only to kill them?", asks Matt. "An avenging angel who kills cheaters?"

You glance at the bank statements, and the scales fall from your eyes. Running a hand through your hair, you look first at Emily, who gives you a knowing look before casting a furtive glance in Spencer's direction. But he's already looking at you. Is he thinking the same thing you are? Has he figured it out, too? Does Emily know? Is that why she called him in?

"That's impossible", Spencer says without taking his eyes off you. The team looks at him before their questioning gazes move to you. Apparently, they haven't figured it out yet. "She's in jail."

You interlace your fingers in your lap so they don't see how much you're shaking. Just the thought of it makes you shudder. "It has to be a copycat", you return, to which Spencer's eyes narrow.

"Who are you talking about?", JJ asks, putting her hand on his arm, but he's so focused on you that he doesn't even notice.

Emily clears her throat and everyone looks to her except for Spencer and you. "Cat Adams."

"I talked to the warden", Emily says when you're in her office. She stands leaning against her desk while Spencer and JJ face her. You've taken the seat on the couch against the wall, elbows propped on your knees, foot bobbing up and down.

Really bad. Really, really bad.

"Adams is ready to talk. But only with you, Spencer."Though her words are directed at him, her gaze is calmly on you. Apparently, she wants to make sure you don't throw up on the floor. You can't promise her. "In twenty minutes, you'll be flying out. As soon as the three of you find out anything, I want to be informed immediately."

Spencer's whole body tenses, but he doesn't respond. The two of them leave the office while you stay behind. Emily sits down next to you on the couch and grabs your hands.

"I'd rather you didn't go with them, Y/N," she begins. "But I'm afraid you have to go with them. You know why."

You look at her, her expression concerned, and you'd like to hug her as an assurance that everything would be okay. "It just doesn't make things any easier, unfortunately."

During the flight, no one speaks a word. You each turn your attention to other things to calm yourselves. JJ watches videos on her phone, Spencer reads a book about astronomy, and you close your eyes, trying not to think too much, but each time you do, you see her face.

The streak of bad luck continues to haunt you.

The warden takes you straight to the interrogation room. He says something, but you don't listen to him. You're far too preoccupied with the fact that everything could go to hell in a minute. To say you're scared would be an understatement.

The three of you stand in front of the glass, allowing you to peer into the room. Cat Adams looks worse than you imagined. Her hair hangs stringy and disheveled from her head, there are jet-black shadows under her eyes, and her overall appearance could be straight out of a horror movie.

"Are you okay, Spence?" asks JJ, but Spencer doesn't answer. "Take all the time you need. No one is forcing you to talk to her right now."

"The longer I don't talk to her, the more potential victims there are," he replies coolly and firmly, looking to his blonde friend. There's a hardness in his gaze that's only been directed at you lately. So that's how much he despises you. He puts you on the same level as a man-killing psychopath.

He squeezes JJ's hand before giving you a quick look that says more than a thousand words could. Then he opens the door and enters the interrogation room. Spencer sits down across from Cat at the table and folds his hands on the table.

"Spencie. It's been a long time."At the sound of her voice and nickname, Spencer barely flinches, and you want to flee. But even if you could-you wouldn't let Spencer go through this alone. No matter what might come.

"It could have been a lot longer."

Cat leans back in her chair, relaxed, and looks at him. "Your hair has gotten longer. It suits you very well."

"Thanks." You can't see his face, but you're pretty sure he's raising an eyebrow. "We're not here to exchange pleasantries or compliments, though."

She nods curtly. "That's right. From what I hear, there's someone running around outside who gets as much pleasure out of killing married men as I do." She bites her lower lip, which makes her look even crazier than she already does. "I never thought there'd be a copycat of me. It's kind of cool, though. I have to admit."

"Do you know anything about that?" Spencer's voice is cold. Apparently he wants to get out of there as fast as he can, and you can't blame him.

Cat's gaze moves from Spencer's face to his hands. Slowly, she reaches across the table and untangles his fingers so she can look at his left hand. "From what I can see, you're not wearing a wedding ring at all, Spencie. What happened to your fiancée?"

You inhale sharply, and JJ's hand rubs your arm reassuringly for a moment. It was only a matter of time before she asked, but secretly you hoped she wouldn't.

Spencer's back muscles tighten under his dark blue shirt. "She left me when I got arrested."

Cat can't help but grin, and you'd love to punch her right in the face. "I'd say I'm sorry about that, but it's not like we're lying to each other." She plays with his fingers like it's the most normal thing in the world. "Must have been pretty hard for you."

"It wasn't easy."

"And you haven't heard from her since." It's more of a question than a statement. When Spencer doesn't answer, she drops his fingers. Her expression darkens abruptly. Your heart slips into your pants. "Right?"

Please don't say anything. Don't go into it.

"I'm not here to talk about her or me", he finally replies, and you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. JJ looks at you in confusion, and a faint smile creeps onto your lips. But your moment of relief is short-lived, because Cat doesn't seem to want to give in.

"I want answers as much as you do, Spencie. If you give me some, I'll give you some. A fair trade," she grins, leaning back in her chair again, arms crossed in front of her chest. "So?"

"She came back a few weeks ago", he replies coolly, and Cat's eyes widen as if she really wasn't expecting it.

"Oh, no. Really?" Again she leans forward, so curious is she. "And what did she say? Did she apologize? Or told you the reason she left?" Her grin is so wide it almost reaches her ears. It makes you want to throw up.

"She said she didn't love me anymore."

"And you just believed her?" She shakes her head, but waits for no response. "I thought you were a better profiler, Spencie. After all, you cracked me. You should have realized something was up."

"What do you mean, something's up?" he asks.

Your whole body tenses with panic, but inside you're screaming, pleading, and a small part of you is sinking into a black hole right now.

"At least one thing she stuck to." Cat's grin is false, and sly and insidious as she speaks. "She didn't tell you about our deal?"

next part

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#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #Emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #tara lewis #derek morgan #aaron hotchner

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

Hot and Bothered

Jasonette July SC 3: roommates

All Jasonette July

My masterlist

Marinette had just moved in with her roommate Tim a couple weeks ago. They didn’t know each other very well but he heard she needed a place to live and offered his place. His former roommate had moved out a couple months before. It was an awkward couple of weeks with coming and going at different times and never knowing when they could see each other. So when they both arrived home and neither had anything they would need to wake up early for they decided to hang out and get to know each other a little better.

The best way to do this was obviously while drinking to take the edge off a bit and relax them. It had worked wonderfully. They were both happy and giggling and had learned a lot about each other. But now they were hungry and discovering that they both had been forbidden from touching the stove while drinking. They ate cheese sticks and the rest of a bag of doritos but they were out of easy options that didn’t require cooking.

“Do you think we should risk it,” Marinette asked.

“I don’t know. My brother would kill me. We should call him and convince him to bring us Bat burger.”

“Oh yes! That sounds great. Do you think he would do that for you?”

“Probably not. Here you call him. He likes pretty girls. I bet you could convince him.”

Marinette hesitated but Tim pushed his phone over to her unlocked and another shot when she didn’t immediately move to take the phone. She took a breath before downing the shot and picking up the phone. She nearly dropped it but instead fell back onto the couch and the phone landed on her. The contact wasn’t on the screen anymore so she selected the phone app to find him by his name.

“Who’s your brother?” she scrolled down. “Oh here it is.”

She laughed a little when she saw Bother listed instead of Brother. She supposed that was part of having siblings. Tim looked up at her voice but she seemed to have answered her own question. She smiled at the phone. He was used to people smiling at pictures of Dick so he watched her put the phone to her ear.

“Hey, you’re Tim’s brother.”

“Who is this and why are you calling me from Tim’s number.”

“I’m hungry. Tim said you would bring us Bat burger even though he has you in his phone as bother instead of brother.”

“He said I would do it just out of the goodness of my heart?”

“Oh. No. Hold on. He said you would think I was pretty and do it just to see me. I’m not sure that actually works. Oh. Here is the camera.”

Marinette held the phone out so her face showed on the screen. She smiled big.

“You didn’t push the button so I can’t see you. Do you know how? I guess it doesn’t matter if I can see you. Pretty sure I’m not exactly the kind of girl guys go out of their way to buy things for. But we were hungry and Tim said it would work.”

“Is Tim there?”

“He laid down on the couch because everything was spinning. I’m not sure if he is awake.”

“I think you are exactly the kind of girl guys should buy things for. Try to drink some water.”

The phone went dead in her hand so she set it down on top of Tim where he was laying. His hand automatically went to the phone to keep it from sliding off him. Marinette went to the kitchen to get a couple glasses of water and brought one to Tim.

“He said to drink water. I don’t think he is bringing us food.”

“That sounds like Dick.”

“Definitely a dick move.”

Marinette started a movie and then realized she wasn’t drinking anymore so she went to make another hurricane. She was headed back to the living room when there was a knock on the door. She rushed to open it and saw a tall dark haired man in the doorway with a bat burger bag.

“Oh, food. Tim, I take back everything I said about your brother being a dick.”

“No, his name is--Jason?”

Marinette grabbed Jason’s arm and yanked him into the apartment pushing him down to a chair. He let her move him but she was expecting more resistance or was just more unsteady on her feet than she realized because she landed right on top of him and dumped her drink on his shirt.

“Tim, save the food!”

Marinette handed the bag off to Tim. Then, she pulled Jason to follow her to the bathroom and pushed him to sit on the closed toilet lid. She tugged at his shirt until he moved to allow her to pull it off him. She rinsed the shirt as best she could in the tub and then hung it over the rack. When she turned back to Jason she suddenly realized that she had left him there with his chest bare.

“Oh!” she said. She reached out her hand to touch him before realizing and pulling back. “I don’t think Tim’s shirts would even fit you.”

“Probably not,” he said.

“I think I would be okay if you stayed just like that until your shirt dried.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

He laughed at her assuming she hadn’t even realized she had said anything.

“I might have something that will work. It won’t look as good as all that.”

She motioned in front of him while she was talking. She hadn’t looked back up to see the grin on his face.

“Your boyfriend’s.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend. But I could make you a shirt and it could be my boyfriend’s.”

“Well, I’m not sure you should be making clothes if you weren’t even allowed to use the stove. But I could stay just like this for a bit if you liked.”

Marinette nodded her head slowly.

“Sewing isn’t allowed either. You’re right. Too many finger injuries and the one shoulder injury.”

“How did you hurt your shoulder sewing?”

“Can I touch your shoulder?”

He nodded and Marinette reached out and brushed her fingertips along his shoulder. When they reached his neck she trailed them down his chest. She couldn’t stop there so she slid both palms up his chest to his shoulders, stepping closer to him so she could run her fingertips down his biceps. He stood up in front of her and her eyes were level with his chest just below his throat. She swallowed hard as he reached over her. He opened the door and guided her ahead of him back to the living room. Tim had put out all the food while they were in there. He gave them a funny look, but said nothing.

“Yay, food,” Marinette said. “You are such a life saver.”

She enthusiastically started eating a burger, not noticing the tension between the brothers. They all ate quietly for a few minutes. When Marinette finished eating she laid back on Jason. Tim looked a little like he wanted to say something but Marinette didn’t notice.

“I bet you don’t get muscles like this eating bat burger all the time. You must have a killer workout routine.”

“It is pretty killer.” Tim said.

“It used to be a lot more intense. But it's definitely not as rough as it used to be. I wouldn’t call it a killer.”

“That hasn’t gone unnoticed,” Tim said.

There was a moment of silence while the brothers watched each other. Marinette missed the seriousness of the moment.

“Well, I think it is great either way. No need to push yourself. You will make an excellent boyfriend either way.”

She turned slightly, still laying on Jason, and fell asleep.

It was hours later before she woke. She moved slightly, trying to untangle her legs in the blanket and then looked up to see a man with a very nice looking, bare chest looking down at her. She looked around to see that she was in her apartment on the couch and still wearing what she wore yesterday.

“So um, do you want coffee?” she asked.

Taglist

#jasonette july 2021 #maribat #jasonette july #jasonette #they were roommates #boldlyanxious

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gods-no-longer-tread-here · 3 years

Text

I was thinking about an amazing fic wherein Geralt locks himself away in his own mind, leaving nothing but the wolf, and also one of my old friend’s fluffy h/c fics where a heat-crazed omega and an alpha who refuses to have sex with heat-crazed omegas cuddle for like 2.5 days straight, and also ace week. So. Here is this.

words: 1,737 characters: Geralt, Jaskier, Lambert, Roach, Eskel and Vesemir mentioned summary: Geralt forgets to take his meds (inspired by my own personal experiences with forgetting meds for longer than a week), and gets cuddly. Jaskier’s fine with it because it amuses him.

Geralt was acting strange.

Then again, he wasn’t a human, so his actions weren’t really supposed to be familiar. That made Jaskier happy, to be honest. He’d had enough of trying to puzzle out other humans; Geralt was just as complex, but far more straightforward.

But still, this fussing was out of character. He was so particular about hunting and buying food, and insisted on getting Jaskier a thick wool cape, and seemed hyper-aware of the changing seasons. Finally, Jaskier decided he wasn’t naïve enough for this.

“Geralt, why are you doing this?”

Geralt, half asleep and curled around Jaskier protectively, mumbled, “Winter soon. Gotta keep you healthy.”

Jaskier grinned, and squirmed over onto his back. “My dear, not that I’m complaining about your care, but why now?” he asked, booping Geralt’s nose.

The Witcher scowled and said, “You’re my mate. Have to take care of my mate.”

Jaskier’s heart tripped.

Geralt must have heard, because he suddenly became very awake, staring at Jaskier with wide eyes and a set mouth. Jaskier breathed in and out slowly; there was no point hiding his immediate reaction, but he should at least try to stay calm.

“Do Witchers see mates the same way as us humans?” he asked.

Geralt didn’t move for an agonizingly long moment. Then he said softly, “No. Mates are… they’re people we… you won’t betray us.”

Jaskier stared back. And then he grinned, and snuggled against Geralt, rubbing his nose on his Witcher’s collarbone. Said Witcher relaxed, wuffled in contentment much like a big, lazy dog, and wrapped Jaskier up tight in his arms.

“Mates are people you trust not to hurt you?” the bard hazarded, unable to stop grinning.

“Yes. Go to sleep, now.”

“Oh, alright.”

A month later, as they were beginning their ascent of the mountains, Jaskier decided that Geralt had been lying.

As soon as they had left the last human village, Geralt’s human habits began to fade into more animalistic ones: instead of cooking the few plump rabbits he was able to hunt, he portioned them out and ate the organs while Jaskier cooked the meat. He insisted on finger-combing Jaskier’s hair every night (which the bard quite liked). His movements became smooth in the way of a predatory animal, not a man with predatory mutations. Roach began to snort and sidle at times, trying to keep her distance.

And Geralt didn’t even pretend he wasn’t coddling Jaskier like a delicate maiden.

It was very odd. And yet, Jaskier didn’t really mind. Geralt wasn’t smothering him; he was simply far more attentive than ever before. More attentive than he was with Yennefer, even.

Jaskier’s breath catched, and he cleared his throat to hide the noise, trudging up the narrow path behind Geralt and in front of Roach. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about her--not when he was going to spend the winter with his dearest friend.

Geralt suddenly turned, stared at Jaskier, and then whined as his face melted into a look of worry. If he’d had wolf ears, Jaskier thought, apropos of nothing, they would be upright and shivering.

Jaskier smiled. “I’m alright, my dear,” he said. No matter how softly he spoke, the cold stone of the mountain caught the sounds and threw them into an echo as if he had shouted. “I was thinking of something, that’s all.”

Geralt closed the distance between them in three fluid steps and wrapped his arms around Jaskier, whining and sniffing the bard as if his scent would give away his thoughts.

Jaskier felt his heart grow warm again. “I’m alright,” he repeated, leaning into Geralt’s embrace. “I’m with you, aren’t I? I’m always alright with you.”

Geralt made a wolf-like noise of happiness, and then kissed Jaskier. When his mouth opened in surprise, the Witcher’s tongue slid in and licked the inside--and not in a sexy way.

“Ew!” he shrieked, wrenching back. “Geralt, you brute, what are you doing?”

“My mate,” Geralt rumbled. It was the first time he’d used recognizable words in nearly a week. He was also smiling, so fondly and sweetly. “My pretty mate.”

Jaskier’s cheeks heated immediately, and he pressed his face into Geralt’s neck. “Alright, you win. My… my mate.”

Geralt hummed in deep contentment. After several moments, they untangled from each other, Geralt licked Jaskier’s lips, and they continued their journey.

The cold of winter was setting in painfully fast. While much of the coast was quite pleasant, Jaskier had spent many years in Lettenhove shivering through storms and snow that killed at least three people every winter--but usually more. He knew what to expect from sharp cold; he’d just never been in a place this dry and cold.

They were only a few days away from Kaer Morhen when the air pressure changed so quickly that Jaskier’s ears popped twice. The dry feeling that had seeped into his every orifice vanished as the first snowstorm began to brew; he breathed in deeply and grinned at the moisture that sank into his mouth, nose, throat, and lungs. Now this was the kind of winter weather he was used to.

Geralt growled and hustled his mate and horse along as fast as was safe.

Jaskier barely had time to feel relief at the sight of the trail leveling out before the snowstorm opened and everything became a white-and-grey blur. He and Roach both stopped in their tracks, and he called out, “Geralt?! Geralt, where are you?!”

A dark form hulked into his personal space and embraced him. It smelled and felt like his witcher. Jaskier clung to him, and tried not to think about the day he had joined a rescue attempt to find the last fishing vessel in the middle of a wild storm. There had been sirens. The sailors used a horn to drive them away; Jaskier had panicked and started singing, and the sirens had fallen silent.

He wasn’t allowed on the ocean after that, and he was very glad.

But this wasn’t the ocean. He had never realized how much he trusted solid boats and salty water before he became so acutely aware that one misstep would send him tumbling through nothing.

Geralt hoisted Jaskier up in one arm, took hold of Roach’s reins, and continued on the path.

It seemed like a thousand years before hands tugged at his cloak, and Geralt snarled viciously. Jaskier clung tighter, and did not raise his head until they passed into a space that wasn’t windy.

“Ger’l?” he whispered.

Geralt rumbled reassuringly and nuzzled under Jaskier’s hood to lick his ear; the warmth of his tongue shocked the bard’s cold skin. “Safe,” Geralt said, and set him down on his feet.

Jaskier smiled, and promptly collapsed.

“He won’t take his medicine, not until his mate is awake.”

“That’s so stupid! Doesn’t he want to be able to think?”

“Yes, but he’s not Geralt right now. He doesn’t have a human mind. I told him he needed to get better at making it himself…”

Jaskier opened his eyes the barest crack, and tried to make a noise. He couldn’t. He was so tired and foggy.

Almost immediately, someone was kissing his face, and licking it, and giving tiny puppy noises of joy and worry. He smiled, and opened his eyes wider.

It was Geralt, of course, looking absolutely delighted. Jaskier reached up one shaky hand and booped his nose.

“Hello, darling,” he said.

“Hello,” Geralt replied.

There were three other Witchers in the keep: a tired father, a calm and kind elder brother, and a pissy baby who was only a few years older than Jaskier. They stayed far away from him, although they were courteous, and provided him with food since he couldn’t leave his nest by the fire due to Geralt constantly lying on top of him and acting like a love-sick puppy. Jaskier began to worry about that merely an hour after he woke.

Four hours after he was awake, the pissy baby brother approached with a tray holding two pottery cups. He set it down near Jaskier and ordered, “Give him the blue cup, it has his medicine in it.”

Jaskier looked at the cups. One was green and the other was a soft purple. “Ah… those are green and purple.”

The Witcher stared at him, then at the cups, then back at him. “What?” he said blankly.

“This one is green,” Jaskier pointed to said cup, “And this one is purple. Which one is blue to you?”

The Witcher pointed silently, and Jaskier nodded, picking up the cups carefully and handing the “blue” one to Geralt, who cocked his head curiously.

“It’s just a drink,” Jaskier told him soothingly. “It will help us both feel better.” He sipped his own and tasted spiced cider, which made him hum in appreciation. Geralt downed his drink in three quick gulps, set his cup back on the tray… and then yelped and rolled off of Jaskier, thrashing and howling.

“Geralt!” Jaskier tried to lunge for him, but the other Witcher held him back. “Geralt! What did you do to him?!”

“Gave him his medicine that he hasn’t been taking for probably three fucking months,” the Witcher said tersely. “Watch him.”

Jaskier never took his eyes off Geralt, heart pounding with fear. After a few minutes of thrashing, his wolfish sounds melted into human curses, and when he laid still, panting harshly, Jaskier strained towards him again. “Geralt!” he cried, reaching for him.

Geralt looked at Jaskier, frowned, then looked absolutely terrified. Before Jaskier could ask, he was up and out of the room.

“Geralt?” Jaskier repeated softly.

“He’s just embarrassed,” the youngest Witcher grunted, letting go of Jaskier. “Drink your cider. He’ll come back when I leave.”

So Jaskier drank, and the Witcher left, and after a whole three minutes, Geralt slunk back in and sat beside Jaskier. After a moment, the bard lunged and squirmed into Geralt’s lap, hugging him tightly.

“Welcome back,” he said.

“I licked you,” Geralt said.

Jaskier laughed merrily and kissed him. “Yes, you did. You also played with my hair.”

“And called you my mate.”

Jaskier paused. “Well… yes. Was that a mistake?”

Geralt shrugged and wrapped his arms around Jaskier. “Dunno. Do… would you mind if… are you alright with that?”

“Yes, my dear, I am very alright with it.”

“Oh. Good.”

And then Geralt snogged him senseless.

#The Witcher #Geraskier #fluff #no sad only cute

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

By the king’s hand 🐍 II

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You attend king Loki’s coronation but the night ends precariously.

Note: I still don’t know what I’m doing. I’m tryna keep up but tbh I am gonna be working a lot so updates might be inconsistent for the time being.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

There were no windows in the dungeons. No time. No life.

Just you and the distant sounds of your fellow prisoners. A thick iron door closed you in the stone cell, a single slot let in a sliver of torchlight and your sole meal each day. A bowl of thin broth and a heel of moldy bread. You ate out of need though often regretted it as your stomach churned. You counted the days by the bowls but could not be certain how long you languished.

You smelled of sweat and the cell; dank and dingy. You slept sitting up, rarely at that, and filled the time with thoughts of doom. Of regrets and remonstrances. You should have let Gilla go on her own, but could you live with the thought of her in your place? You should have stopped her and dragged her home. You should have climbed faster. You should have accepted death over this monotonous purgatory.

There was nothing you could do. It was over. You assured your own fate in your words. Your want to mock and appease the king’s pride had led you to error. The word, that one you’d never spoken before, a dagger on your tongue; ‘beholden’. Was that what you were? What your imprisonment was? Your debt to your king.

Your feet were bare, damp, and cold. You recalled losing your clogs on the palace lawn. Your tunic felt thin and your pants clung uncomfortably to your legs. You kept your arms crossed over your knees as you sat in the corner. Sometimes your head would law and you would sink into a few moments of hazy slumber. Glimpses of life beyond the dungeon, of memories, sunlight and the kiss of pollen in your nose. But when you awoke, your prison only seemed darker and smaller.

You heard yourself snoring as you dozed, your head heavy with exhaustion. The eerie nose of your snorts and snarls were quieted by the sudden metallic schlock as gears were turned by a key. You woke with a start, dizzy and confused. The door pushed inward and the clink of the guards armour underlined the grind of the hinges.

A tall shadow entered, a length of cloth hung from his shoulders, a fine cape that suddenly shone as the guard hung a torch in the ring along the wall. The king walked cautiously around the confined space as if he would be tainted by your filth.

You uncrossed your arms and braced the wall. You struggled to stand as you shook away the sleep from your head. You groaned and staggered as you pushed your feet under you and stood. He chuckled as he stilled and watched your struggle.

“While I appreciate the effort, little mouse, it is expected that one bows to their king.” He mused.

You took a breath and stepped away from the wall. You did your best to bow but as you straightened up, your head swam. The torchlight made your eyes water and you felt as if you were trapped in some wretched dream.

“Are you unwell?” He asked tauntingly.

“Well enough, your majesty,” you answered, even if he held no true concern.

“I must apologize, I have been distracted by my kingly duties.” His green eyes clung to you as slowly the fog slaked away from your mind. They seemed brighter as the flame flickered along the wall. “I did not have the chance to consider your sentence.”

You swallowed and narrowed your eyes. You were slightly perplexed. You blinked and glanced around. “A cell, a meal, my life. I cannot bemoan my lot. Is it not what I asked for, your majesty?”

His lips curved wryly and he shook his head. “Ah, so you think that is your fate. That this hole is to be your existence?” He strode from wall to wall and grimaced. “Did I not agree to mercy?”

“You sent me here…” you uttered, “Your majesty, you said you would spare my life.”

“And I shall. I have.” He faced you again, “I have thought on what this new life should entail for you.”

You wrinkled your nose as you tried to untangle his words. He spoke in riddles and you were untrained in logic. You were no solicitor nor privileged enough to look upon a page. You folded your hands before you and waited for his explanation. You were realising how this man enjoyed the noise of his own voice.

“I thought of the laundries, the kitchens, the stables, even perhaps, a chambermaid to one of my lords or ladies. Consider that any position on my staff is one of prestige for any of your ilk. And I thought that a fine show of mercy but then… I thought more. You see, my staff is well-furnished, I would say I have an excess of servants. Too many hands for one broom.” He paused slid his tongue along his bottom lip. “Those wardens of my staff assured me of this conclusion.”

You watched him warily. He was playing with you. A cat dangling it’s wriggling prey as it considered how to devour it. A snake, rather.

“I will admit, that alongside the many duties that delayed me was this conundrum. This puzzle without a solution,” he continued as he took a step towards you. You resisted the urge to retreat or shy away from him. That was what he expected. “What do I do with this life thrust upon me? On the one I did promise my first act of mercy?”

You stared back at him as he neared. He was close. You smelled the earthy oils rubbed in his hair, the soft scent of gardenia that softened his musk. You bit down as you swallowed your impatience.

“It would not be just for you to serve another, as it were. That was not our barter. You swore yourself to me. And so I did ponder how exactly you might serve me…” His lashes flicked as his eyes descended briefly. “Your fashion does make one almost forget what lay beneath.”

You squirmed as his gaze returned to your face and your realised his meaning; salacious and repulsive. Your body went rigid as a deep sigh forced itself from your lungs.

“My own father kept a bed warmer for years. Especially in those years after my mother’s death.” He said coyly.

You glared at him and took a step back, you weren’t far between him and the wall.

“I’d rather the cell,” you sneered.

He snickered and came closer. You continued backward until you met the stone. He leaned in until his nose almost met yours. “I’m not asking, little mouse. I am come to deal your sentence.”

“Then I refuse your mercy and would take the noose,” you insisted. “If mercy is what you would call it.”

“It is an honour for any, even the most dignified lady, to please her king,” his fingers crawled along the tails of your tunic and pressed more firmly to your hips, “It is more than mer--”

Your hand flew up before you could think. His touch made you recoil and his words reminded you of the sour broth you had gulped down only hours ago. He was stunned by the strike across his cheek but he stayed close. He winced only slightly as his eyes flared. His hand was at your throat in an instant.

“Don’t you fret, little mouse, I like the game,” he snarled, “And I suspect you will give me quite the chase.”

His hot breath grazed your lips as he held you against the wall. He stared you down and let out a fractured huff. He squeezed until your head swelled and released you sharply.

“If you do so prefer this cell, then you can remain.” He waved his fingers casually as he backed away, “The cell and nothing more.”

He felt along his belt and slowly revealed a long dagger as the metal whispered against the leather sheath. You gaped at the blade and as he came closer, you could not hide your fear. He pushed your hand away as you tried to keep him from you.

“If you resist, you will bloody yourself,” he scowled as he grabbed the collar of your tunic. “So be still.”

He hooked the dagger inside your tunic and tore through the fabric. The blade easily sliced open the wool and caught in your belt, only to snap it just as swiftly. You gasped as he shoved the fabric away from your shoulders. Your undershirt was thin and just as easily shorn away. You looked away as your shame seared across your flesh.

He was rough as he cut away your leggings and had you naked before him. You tried to cover yourself as he replaced his dagger at his belt. He grabbed your arms and pulled them above you as he gazed down at your naked form.

“Your first lesson, little mouse.” He slithered, “You must not strike your king.”

He smirked and dropped your arms. He turned and went to the door. He rapped with two knuckles and called for the guard. You sidled to the corner and crouched down as the door was opened. The guard appeared and the king directed him to collect your shredded clothing.

“Bastard,” you whispered under your breath as the king made to leave. He stopped for a moment but said nothing before he passed into the corridor.

The guard took the armful of wool and cotton and retrieved the torch from the wall. You were shut up in the dark once more, shivering and shamed. You hung your head and cursed.

You could blame Gilla for getting you into this mess, but you were the one digging yourself deeper.

🐍

The meals still came but were harder to eat. You were always cold, always awake, always hungry, and yet always nauseous. You paced to keep warm, to keep your body from growing stiff, but often found yourself huddled once more in the corner.

When the door opened again, after maybe another week, maybe longer, maybe less, you didn’t move. It didn’t matter. The torch was set in the ring and the armoured steps neared you. There were two guards this time. The wrestled you to your feet and clasped your hands in a pair of shackles. You were turned to face the wall as the chain was secured to a hook above you.

Your chest pressed to the cold stone as you hung on tiptoes. A gauntleted hand brushed your ass and you kicked blindly behind you.

“King’s property,” the second guard reproached, “He’ll have your hand.”

“Wench isn’t that pretty,” the other growled, “If I was king, I’d have a duchess every night.”

“You’re not king, thank the lord.” The men retreated to the door and left it ajar behind them.

You tried to free the shackles from the hook but only dangled weakly below. You knew it could not be a good omen. These were king’s orders. You could only expect that you were due for another visit.

As if your thought summoned him, you heard the soft swish of silk. His shadow flickered in the torchlight as he entered. You did not bother to look back. The king stopped feet from you as you watched his silhouette on the stone.

“I will forgive you this time for your lack of a bow,” he declared, “But know that it will be expected.”

He came closer and you shifted on your toes.

“You might utter a simple ‘your majesty’,” he warned.

“Your majesty,” you recited as your shoulder strained. You closed your eyes as you balled your hands.

“I am not one to expound upon my past but I think it prudent at this moment.” He paced behind you and his shadow flickered on your eyelids. “What was that darling little word you called me? ‘Bastard’?”

You cringed and exhaled. “Your majesty.”

“That was what you said? Correct?”

“Yes, your majesty,” you admitted.

He laughed, darkly, and his footsteps ceased.

“I am a second born son. I was a prince, not an heir. None expected me to come upon the throne. That word, that title, bastard, was my lot in life. Not because I was born too late, but because I did not share the golden hair of my family or truly any of their traits. That word was said to a child no more than five years old, and repeated until this very day.” You felt a tickle along your ass and a shiver rolled up your spine. “However most have the sense to whisper it beyond my hearing.” He pressed the cattail to your flesh and you felt the leather straps clearly, “Most.”

He pulled back and lashed you without pause. You bit your lip as you muffled a cry and threw your head back. He inhaled deeply and once more teased your skin with the limp straps.

“I don’t expect an apology. That means little from the lips of a peasant.” He said. “What I expect is discipline; obedience.” He rescinded the cattail again, “I came to hear you scream.”

He whipped you again and you pressed your forehead to the cold wall and whimpered. The shackles tinkled as you swayed on your tiptoes and he struck you once more. You grunted and gulped down a shriek. Perhaps it would be easier to scream, to give him what he wanted, but to think he had never been denied a luxury in his life, fed your obstinacy. If he wanted you to bend, you would not do so easily.

A fourth time, a fifth, a sixth. Your eyes welled and you lost count as you felt your skin split. He laid out the lashes across your back, your ass, and your thighs. The pain made you delirious as your head lolled and the strength drained from your body. You hung prone to his wrath.

When at last you cried out, you didn’t realise. It didn’t sound like you. You didn’t even feel the scream as it tore through your throat. You only knew that the assault had stopped. That blood and sweat trickled down your back.

He sighed, content. He came closer, slowly, and planted his hands on either side of you as he leaned in. He spoke against the back of your ear.

“You have a tough hide, little mouse,” he purred, “This will be more delightful than I ever expected.” He brushed your neck with his fingers, “Another lesson.”

He pushed himself away and you listened to the soft pad of his boots. You opened your eyes at last as the torch was smothered and the door clanged loudly into place. You were left as you were, bleeding and hung like some animal. Like a slab of meat before a feast.

How long would it be before the king supped on you?

🐍

You didn’t recall being let down. You only recalled the pain that roused you. The burning along your back and legs. The smell of brown broth that made you wretch from across the cell. The cold that made you shiver as it met your hot flesh. Your teeth chattered and you could not still yourself as your entire body quaked.

When the guard grabbed the bowl through the low slot of the door, the untouched broth spilled. The moldy bread remained in the puddle and you heard the grumble from the other side. When the next appeared, it was met with the same disgust. It was removed, as full as it arrived. A third and you were trapped in a cloud that grew thicker with each bat of your lashes.

When you woke again, you were no longer in the cell. The pain remained; greater as your back was wiped clean with wet linen. You murmured but could do nothing as you laid on your side and sank back into obscurity.

You blinked and there was a cloth on your forehead, the smell of herbs, and the hot taste as the heady brew was poured down your throat. Sleep again. A fever of frightening visions; of a shadow behind you, of the sharp bite of leather, the painful depth of unending hunger.

And when the chill left your body, when the daze seeped away, when you were returned to the world, you stared up at the ceiling in quiet confusion. There was a window, a bed beneath you, a blanket over you, and the smell of roses in the air. You groaned and tried to sit up. You fell back, dizzy.

A thin, short man appeared at the side of the bed. He felt your forehead and nodded. He disappeared and returned to you. He dropped a robe on the edge of the bed.

“Your fever is broken.” He said plainly. “You must bathe.”

“What? What is going--”

“The king is impatient. As am I. I haven’t time for your questions.” The man reproached. “It will take some time before a bath is drawn. You will be upon your feet by then.”

He marched away from you and disappeared through the door. You once more pushed yourself up on shaky arms and held your head until it was clear. You looked around at the chamber; there was an upholstered chair in the corner and a painted chest of drawers; a large metal tub and a folded screen against the wall.

You drew yourself from beneath the blankets and took the robe. You stood, unsteadily, holding yourself up on the side table near the bed as you pulled it on.

The door opened again and a servant entered with a bucket of steaming water. Another followed in quick succession, and another. The train of maids quickly filled the metal tub and left just as they had come.

The man returned not long after. He snapped the door shut and his hands went to his hips in frustration.

“Get in,” he nodded to the tub. “You’ve wasted enough time.”

“Where am I? Who are you?” You asked as you stood.

“You remain in the king’s custody.” He snipped as he went to the tub and pulled the screen open to conceal it from the rest of the room. “Wash yourself and I will explain. Or I shall call a guard to help.”

You slowly made your way across the room and went behind the screen. You threw the robe over the top of the screen and carefully stepped into the tub. You nearly slipped as you lowered yourself into the hot water.

“You will scrub yourself and use the oil,” he ordered from the other side of the screen.

You took the small vial from the low stool and sniffed. It smelled of roses. You grabbed the sponge and went about washing yourself, gingerly as you wiped your tortured back. It was tender but not so raw as before.

“So… who are you?” You asked.

“You can call me Birger,” he replied as you heard him moving around, “I am the king’s footman and have been, for these past days, your keeper.”

“And how did I come to this chamber?”

“You were half-starved and feverish,” he said, “The king commanded that you were tended to so that you might survive the cell. Ever generous, he is.”

“Generous…” You mulled as you let the water ease your muscles.

“I know your crimes. I know he has shown you an unusual exception.” Birger explained. “Mercy had never been the king’s preferred method.”

“Mercy, is it?”

“I’ve seen him have others killed for less,” he countered coolly, “I do wonder why he should favour a peasant such as you. Alas, I have never worried much on the king’s thoughts. That is not my duty. I do as he wills me.”

“And you served him as a prince?” You prodded.

“Since he was barely more than a boy,” Birger confirmed. “Now be quick, we must have you dressed shortly.”

“Why the hurry?” You asked.

“Do you always ask so many questions? I never knew the king to favour it.”

You were quiet as you finished washing yourself. You climbed out of the tub, more steady on your feet than before, and pulled on the robe again.

“I will call for Liv to ready you.” Birger went to the door again. “You will dress before I return.”

He gestured to the bed and the sheer black fabric across it. The door closed behind him and you went to the bed. The dress was sparse and would barely hide your nudity, if at all. You lifted it and frowned at the cut. Thin straps held up the bodice, black embroidered with silver in a way that would obscure the more intimate parts of your chest. The waist form a vee above the skirts that were slitted along the sides. You rarely wore dresses and had certainly never dressed so scantily.

There were no undergarments. You reluctantly pulled on the gown, if it could be classed as such, and the door opened. You turned as Birger entered followed by a woman with orange hair. Liv, you assumed.

“Turn,” Birger ordered and marched over to you. He pulled tight the laces of the bodice and you gasped at his strength. He knotted them at the top and backed away. “Sit.” He pulled up the stool from behind the screen. “Liv,” he pointed at you and retreated to the other side of the room.

You sat on the stool and Liv opened the chest she carried in with her. She peered down at you as she considered its content.

“The king did say not to use too much,” Birger girded.

“Very well,” Liv retracted her hand from the pot of powder and instead took a stick of kohl. “Just the eyes and lips then. A touch of colour.” She bent over you and lifted your chin. “Look up,”

She ordered you around tersely as she lined your eyes and then painted your lips in a delicate pink. You were not afforded a glance in the mirror before you were ushered to your feet. Birger looked you over and shrugged. He took a pair of silver sandals from beside the bed and gave them to you.

“Better,” he remarked as you slipped on the sandals. “Come.”

He beckoned you forth with two fingers and to the door. A guard awaited you in the corridor and you were handed over to him without pretense. You hesitated and he grabbed your arm. You were directed down the hallways and up several sets of stairs. You were met by another guard before a large golden door with the kingdom’s crest inlaid into its face.

“The king was called away,” the guard said to the other, “He has permitted her to wait in his receiving chamber.”

The other grumbled and nudged you forward. The king’s guard pushed open the door and pointed you inside. He shoved you when you did not budge. You stumbled past the door and it slammed behind you. You turned back and deflated. Slowly, you looked around.

An ebony desk carved with silver snakes, a grand chair behind it; a set of sofas before a hearth and low table; a finely woven carpet, side tables along the walls beneath portraits of the king and his predecessors; each piece of furniture was finer than the last.

Opposite the doors you’d come through, was another set. These were painted with hundreds of snakes, hissing and baring their fangs. You could see that the oil was recently applied. You could guess what was on the other side.

You gulped as you neared the hearth and stared above it. A portrait of the king stared back at you, his dark locks hung pristinely from beneath his horned crown and his green eyes bore into you as he seemed to watch you in turn.

It was a fine chamber but no less a cell.

#loki #loki x reader #dark!loki #dark loki #fic #series #by the king's hand #medieval au #medieval!au #au #medieval #mcu #marvel #dark fic #dark!fic #king!loki

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hes-a-rainbow · 3 years

Text

Simply Meant To Be (Part One)

A/N: I’ve always loved soulmate AU’s so I wrote a little something based on my interpretation. I’ll only continue this if it gets good feedback so remember to like and share!

word count: 2k warnings: small mention of panic attacks.

Soulmates weren’t a new concept. Many people argued soulmates were as old as the universe itself. But that didn’t stop the tiny twinge of jealousy that twisted in Rue’s stomach as she opened up yet another wedding invitation. She stared back at the smiling couple, one of her friends from high school that had met their soulmate a few years back in college. Another photo zoomed in on their ring fingers. Their first initials scarred on both of their fingers indicating their eternal bond.

She flipped over the invitation to fill out the rsvp and dinner selection she would be having in a few months time. She also marked an ‘X’ next to ‘not bringing a guest’. She sighed as the tiny ‘X’ seemingly mocked her loneliness.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in soulmates, they were a fact of life since the beginning of civilization. It was merely the loneliness she felt seeing everyone meeting their soulmate while she still remained alone. Her best friend, Madison, who had met her soulmate back in kindergarten and she was now six months pregnant with their second child.

There was no real science to when, where, or how you would meet your soulmate, it was just supposed to happen. Fate would eventually intertwine the lives of two people who were simply meant to be. Rue was now nearing 26. She had been in love before, as many before her, but the looming fact that her significant others’ soulmate could show up at any time kept her from anything long term.

There was always that terrible thought in the back of her head; the one she had since she was young and still kept her up at night. Growing up, the concept of soulmates were taught in schools. Children mocked each other on the school yard that they would be forever ‘unmarked’, a term coined for those who were destined to be alone. It was a rare phenomenon but it still happened nonetheless.

She took a look at her left hand adorned with rings except for on her ring finger. She remembers spending hours as a child staring and hoping the initial of her true love would show up. But all these years later, it remained as bare as the day she was born. She never thought of herself as a pessimist and she knew she was still young (her parents hadn’t met until they were in their mid thirties) but it still hurt as she watched from the sidelines as seemingly everyone else was matched up.

The loud ringing of her cell phone snapped her out of her thoughts. Her friend and close confidante, Caroline, was calling. She swiped her finger across her phone and cleared her throat, “What’s up?”

“Well hello to you too!” Caroline’s voice roared back to her. She hit the volume button down lower as she knew Caroline was a loud talker. “I’m on my way to Rory’s. My guitar string broke this morning and Talia got called in for a late shift. Do you wanna stop by with me and then get take out for dinner?” Caroline’s soulmate, Talia, was a highly wanted chef in Hell’s Kitchen who worked nights at one of the most prestigious restaurants in the entire city.

She stared at the digital clock on her oven that indicated it was only 5:30. “Sure, I just got home so just let me change and I’ll meet you at Rory’s.” She tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and wandered over to her bedroom to pull out a pair of jeans.

“No need. I’m walking up your stairs as we speak.” Like clockwork, she heard the sound of Caroline’s knuckles knocking at her front door.

“Jesus Caroline, and what if I had said no?” She walked over to the door, unzipping her work pants. Caroline’s bright smile and bleached blonde hair greeted her. “You can’t say no to me!” Caroline looked down at her friends’ outfit. “Cute but can I recommend something less librarian?” Caroline placed her guitar case by the door as Rue rolled her eyes but held the door open. She sauntered back over to her dresser to continue changing out of her work clothes. Caroline sat on her bed and basically held an entire conversation by herself as Rue simply replied with oh, uh huh, and that’s crazy.

Winter had come to the city fast, blanketing the city in a slick frost every morning. The two women walked side by side, bundled up in hats and scarves as they walked the two blocks from Rue’s apartment to Rory’s, an old music shop that also happened to be run by Rory, Rue’s upstairs neighbor and close friend.

“And I know she’ll be upset if I spend so much money but she’s been talking about this knife set for months now.” Caroline rambled on about what she would be getting Talia for their upcoming anniversary. They weren’t married yet, or even engaged for that matter, but they had been together for nearly five years now and didn’t see the need to rush anything.

“I mean it is your five year. She can’t be too upset that you would want to splurge a little bit. But that’s also basically your whole paycheck. You’d basically be leaving it up to her to pick up that entire month’s rent.” Rue’s faded leather boots slapped the pavement as she hid her face further into the scarf wrapped around her neck, trying to warm up her freezing nose. It was almost completely dark out now which meant there was no sun to help ease off the cold.

“And what about that song you were working on? No amount of money spent could give Talia anything that personal and from the heart.” Caroline was an aspiring musician who worked full time as a coffee shop manager and played open mics on the weekends. Caroline hummed in response, her confidence slipping. “I’m just not sure if I like how it turned out…” She let her voice trail off and stared ahead as if in deep thought.

“She’d love it no matter what. Anyone would.” Rue knocked her shoulder into her friends’. “I mean isn’t that like everybody’s dream? To have a song written about them?”

“Yeah, I guess.” They both stopped at the old music store with the big ‘open’ sign in neon lights adorning the window.

“Ah fuck it’s cold out there.” Caroline announced as the warmth from the stores’ heater hit them. Rue untangled her scarf to hang loosely at her side. A loud bell indicated their arrival and they saw Rory’s head perk up from behind the register.

“How much for an hour, ladies?” He called over to them and was met with not one, but two middle fingers from them both. Rory was only a few years older than them but had become especially close with Caroline because of their love of music. Rue worked as a receptionist at a law firm but worked a few shifts at the shop here and there when Rory needed extra help.

Caroline walked over to the counter and plopped her heavy guitar case on it. “String broke again.” She popped open the buckles on the side, lifting it up to reveal the old acoustic guitar she had been gifted as a teenager. The shine of the guitar had been long lost and was now replaced with a few dings and scratches but Caroline loved it no less than the day she got it.

“Damn Caroline. Really have to start being more careful with her.” Rory took the guitar out of it’s velvet bed by the neck and examined the broken string that hung lamely at the side. “This is the second time this month. What could you possibly be playing?”

“I’m trying to learn some flamenco techniques and it’s not going as well as I planned…” Rue wandered over to the wall that hung the electric guitars, zoning out the banter coming from her two friends.

She always admired the instrument but had absolutely no musical talent whatsoever. She loved how Rory kept all the guitars miraculously clean, there were never any fingerprints or smudges on them and she swear he went over every spot with a toothbrush to make sure. She reached for an acoustic guitar that was hanging lower than the more expensive ones.

“You break it, you buy it!” Rory called over to her as he always did. She huffed in response and propped her knee up on a low shelf that held a variety of guitar straps. She didn’t know how to play nor did she know any songs but she loved the sounds the strings made when plucked. She would find herself mesmerized when she watched Caroline play the guitar so effortlessly. Rue even thought back to when she was a child and took a few piano lessons here and there but could never get the hang of it.

As she stood under the guitars and heard Caroline and Rory bickering about which string would be the best replacement (of course his recommendation was also the most expensive brand he sold), the bell by the front door rung to indicate a new customer. Rue didn’t bother looking over as she played some random notes in an attempt to put something together but only to be met by a terrible ‘plunk’. She decided to put the guitar back before embarrassing herself even further in front of her very talented friends.

She was about to place the head of the guitar back on the hook it hung from when she felt an intense pain in her chest. The hand not holding the guitar went right to the center of her chest as a warmth ran over her body. Her ears started to ring and she teetered in her place before placing the guitar down on the floor, not wanting to damage it if she fell.

“Rue?” She heard her name coming from behind her but her eyes filled with stars. She opened and closed them as the pain in her chest increased, causing her to fall to the floor on her knees. She could hear frantic chatter coming from the counter but her only focus was calming her breathing. She had suffered from panic attacks before but the intense pain in her chest was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She heard footsteps running towards her as she released a groan from deep in her throat.

“Rue! What’s going on? Are you okay?” Caroline slumped to the floor next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. Rue’s vision was blurry and she blinked fast as her eyes started to water. A bang and a deep groan went through the store somewhere behind her. “Holy shit!” A stranger's voice yelled, “Harry, man, are you alright?”

Suddenly, the pain Rue felt in her chest shot down her left arm. She felt as if she were dying. It was as if her skin was being cut from the inside out while also spontaneously being burned. “Rue! Rue!” She could hear Caroline calling her name but it came through as muffled though her ringing ears. She looked up to see a group of men standing by the counter. Rory was speaking frantically on his cell phone and she could see two men crowded around another who sat in the same position on the floor as she did. The brunette on the floor looked up and their eyes met. The overwhelming pain stopped suddenly as she stared at him. Pictures flashed in her mind of her and this man, someone who was a stranger to her but also oddly familiar. She saw his smile and heard her own laugh. She saw tears stream down his face and her own fingers wiping them away.

What is this? She thought in her head.

You know what this is. Her conscious replied.

Caroline’s face came back to her line of sight, “Hey Rue, look at me. It’s okay. You’re gonna be fine.” She held Rue’s face in her hands. Rue’s hands came up to clasp her friends’ wrist, her breathing rapid as her heart beat finally started to slow back to a normal pace. Her left hand still stung. More specifically, her left ring finger.

She pulled away from her friend quickly to examine the new mark that now adorned her skin.

“Holy shit.” Rue rubbed at the mark with her other hand to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. But with every swipe, the letter remained. “Holy shit!” Rue heard Caroline agree as she looked down at Rue’s hand, but Caroline’s voice was filled with less fear and more glee than Rue’s.

There, on her left ring finger, still swollen and red was the letter H.

A/N: This is just an idea I have that I may or may not continue based on the feedback. I know Harry was literally just a mention in this part but I would obviously include him much more going forward. Let me know if you’re interested in what happens next and please like and share!

Part Two

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry style fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #one direction #hslot #soulmates au #harry styles writing #tpwk #treat people with kindness #harry styles drabble #harry styles x oc

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

gingerbread spice latté | stuart twombly

word count; 7629

summary; stuart is counting on a little bit of a festive miracle to get what he really wants for christmas.

notes; none, really. nothing to say here.

warnings; none. not a one.

If there was anything that Stuart hated, it was the chalkboards outside of the little coffee shop that he called his place of work. He hated the way the signs always seemed to look sloppy when he did them, and he hated balancing on a ladder - especially in the snow - and he particularly hated the way the chalk marks seemed to get everywhere, all over his clothes in stains and on his face, and drying out his fingertips and the feel of it on his skin. He had a lot of negative feelings about chalkboards, so, yeah, he definitely hated decorating the chalkboards.

If there was anything that Stuart loved, though, it was you. He was completely and utterly infatuated with you, he couldn't help it, not when you looked so insanely adorable as you scowled at a pile of knotted Christmas lights in your hands, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the counter. He’d helped you drag the tree you’d delivered three days ago into the back corner earlier, stabbing himself on a pine needle and almost choking on his breath when you’d rubbed your thumb over the spot on his index finger while cradling his hand to make it better.

The thing was, you’d been his best and closest work colleague for three years now, he’d formed a little crush on you from the very second that you had walked in two summers ago spelling like coconuts and mangos, and ordered an iced tea, before noting the ‘help wanted’ sign pinned up behind him, and pulled a CV out of your purse with an excited grin. You’d been all but hired form the moment you’d shaken hands with the boss, the interview being a formality, and just a week later, you’d been putting on the navy blue apron with the company logo stitched onto it and joining him behind the counter.

He’d kept it in control until now, because up until a month ago, you’d been in a relationship, a long-term one, and he'd been able to find a clear line and he had a great ability not to cross it. You didn’t stay late after the close-up shifts to have a drink with him, and he didn’t tempt himself into growing closer to you by talking to you outside of work. You were just the cute barista he saw four times a week. But, then you’d been single, and you’d started staying behind after work to have a coffee with him, and let him walk you home as it grew darker into the winter, and you’d even started messaging him outside of work. ‘Friending’ one another on Facebook had led to chatting, which was exchanging numbers, and then there were the times you were bored, or he was, and you’d spend hours on the phone just talking.

Since then, he’d been in deep. That was exactly how he found himself in his current situation, watching as you mumbled to yourself and huffed as you undid the lights, looping them in untangled trails around yourself as you went. Maybe he leaned a little too far to see you, maybe he just wanted to get a better look at your face as you sat illuminated by the fairy lights you’d already strung up along the counter that made you glow like an angel, because one moment he’d been writing ‘Christmas Specials - only $4’ on the sign over the door and watching you wistfully, and then next he’d been tumbling unsteadily on the ladder and landing on the snow, head cracking against the concrete as he groaned, thankful for the layer of icy flakes that had cushioned his fall somewhat, even if he had hit the ground hard enough that his vision had gone black for a second, and was still spotting slightly.

His head was spinning, and the second it cleared, you were leaning over him, wide eyes and distressed expression on your face as you knelt beside him, and despite having the breath punched from his lungs with the fall, he was now breathless for an entirely new reason. Heat rose to his cheeks, enough to melt the snow that was landing on his face as he tried to sit up, feeling your fingers snake around to cup the back of his head as you helped him up, shuffling back to sit on your legs as you contained to kneel beside him.

“Oh my God, Stu!” Warm breath was coming out in pants in the cold afternoon air, and his embarrassment only increased. “Are you okay?”

He groaned again, the pain of a nod making him wince, and he paused for a second to clear it, feeling the throbbing pain in the back of his skull getting worse. Your fingers were still within his dark tresses, tracing lightly over his scalp, and he hissed under his breath as the tips brushed across the sore spot on his head. “‘M going to be fine. I promise.”

“That is gonna’ leave a nasty bump. The one day you don’t wear your beanie is the day you could’ve used your extra head protection.” He couldn't help by laugh at your words, hating the way a spike of pain shot along his spine from his skull as he did.

“I know, I know.”

“How’d it happen?” You were staring at him instantly now, your hand slipping down from his head to sit on his shoulder, your thumb brushing against his neck each time you moved it, and he wasn’t sure if you even knew what you were doing, but you made his mind stutter to a complete halt, blank of any coherent thought as he stared at you.

“Just, uh, distracted. Slipped, I guess. Icy.” He gestured a hand around himself vaguely, hating the way he couldn’t even form real sentences, and you smirked at him, nodding your head.

“Yeah, icy.” You were teasing him, he knew you were, but he couldn't even be mad in the same way he’d be mad at someone else, because as you smiled at him, a glint in your eye and a sweet looking taunt that made him weak, all for him, he just shrugged, grinning back at you. You stood up, hands shaking a little as you brush the tip of your nose, rubbing it to bring heat back to your face as you began to chill, and when you brought it to his attention, he realised just how cold it was, sitting in the mounds of snow. You brushed yourself off, wet marks along your legs from where you’d been perched in the ice, and held your hands out to him. “Let’s get you up and inside. C’mon.”

He didn’t hesitate, hands slipping into your own, and he held on tightly, letting you pull him to his feet before he was brushing himself down of the ice and following you into the building, the bell above the door chiming as the two of you entered, warmth encasing him as he did, and a tingling spread along his skin. The smell of freshly ground coffee, and all the different sweet and spiced syrups that had been bought in to match the drinks, as well as the slightly sweet smell of herbal teas in the background.

You led him through to the back, sitting him down on the boxes that had yet to be unpacked, and he popped the buttons on the front of his coat, pushing it down his shoulders as he watched you disappear. When you came back, you had a towel wrapped around a clump of ice, scooped fresh from the ice machine for frozen coffees and teas, and he reached his hand out for it, before you bypassed him. Instead of stopping before him and handing it over, you stepped up between his parted legs, bring a hand around to the back of his head to press it to the sore spot gently, and while it hurt for a split second, it felt like the patch was on fire, and he was relieved at the cooling pressure, letting out a deep sigh.

He fell forwards, he couldn't help it, forehead pressed to the soft flesh of your stomach through your jumper, and you chuckled, his head bobbing a little as you did, before your other hand was coming up to play with his hair. It was slightly damp, he could tell from the way it stuck to your fingers, but he wasn’t all that surprised; actually, he wouldn't be surprised if he got a chill from going out to do the signs in the snow, but someone had to do it today, and he wasn’t going to let it be you.

He shifted, chin resting on your stomach instead, and you moved his hair away from his forehead, offering him a little smile as he stared up at you. “You’re looking at me from the worst possible angle.”

“You look great.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes, and he snorted a little at the way your face screwed up.

“Like an angel.” This made you really laugh, deep and full-bodied, and he wrapped his hands around the backs of your legs. Large palms spreading out over the backs of your knees, pulling you a little closer and he didn’t miss the way your breath hitched and your eyes widened a little. He wasn’t blind, nor stupid, he was well-aware of the way things had been developing between the two of you, he knew you had some kind of feelings for him, he just didn’t know if you were ready for them, only a few months out of a relationship that had lasted years, and he was more than happy to wait for you if you weren’t. “A Christmas angel. My angel.”

“How hard did you hit your head again, Twombly?”

He rolled his eyes, it was his turn to laugh, but you didn’t back away from him, bringing your hand down to place the melting ice pack down on the side as he stood, towering over you now, hands sliding up from your thighs to your waist, a respectable place, no matter how much he wished it was a little lower, a grip just a little tighter, a little more intimate. “Not that hard, I swear. But, it doesn’t mean that it’s not how I feel. You really are an angel.”

Your own hands were on him now, too. Sitting lightly on his biceps, nails dragging against his skin lightly through the cotton of his shirt and he shuddered slightly under your grazes. He could smell the perfume you wore, a seasonal one, spices and berries that you swapped out with the seasons and he felt intoxicated by it already.

“A very pretty angel, might I add.”

“Yeah?” You grinned now, and he could taste the gingerbread-flavoured coffee on your breath still, the drink you’d been sipping on all day, a slow crowd and so you’d busied yourself with last-minute Christmas decorations. The snow had been a blessing, the cold weather and icy temperatures had ushered in large crowds who sought out hot drinks and winter aesthetics, and the two of you had barely any time to set up for the Christmas celebrations. Now, though, as the snow came down in thick storms from fluffy clouds, you had a day of quiet and calm.

He watched as you leaned in, the tip of your nose bumping his own, and he swallowed thickly, his nerves taking over, but he was quick to steady them, trying to soothe his racing heart. “The prettiest, sweetheart.”

Just as he’d garnered the bravery to close that gap, the ringing of the bell at the front door shocked through the air, a startling noise that clamoured in his ears and made you jump back with a little squeak. His eyes went wide, body stiffening and heat was crawling up his cheeks. The same look he was sure was reflected on his own face was present on yours; a little embarrassed, a little flustered, and totally caught off guard, before you were shrinking away from him, a sweet smile on your lips as your hands slid to find his, squeezing reassuringly.

“That’s a, uh, customer.”

You grinned, entertained by his awkwardness once again, and you picked the ice pack back up, pressing it into his hand as you nodded your head. “That it is. I got it, you put that pack back on. Hope we didn’t break that smarty-pants brain of yours.”

With that, you were stepping away from him, turning your back on him with a final cheeky smile, and disappearing out front. Your voice rang out a second later, followed by the fake-laughter he knew you offered up to those who made crappy jokes about he fun names of all of the coffees, before you wee switching on machines, the coffee-grinding drowning out your voice, and he sighed, unable to stop the smile taking place on his face as he shook his head to himself.

He waited a while longer, hearing the bell ding a handful more times, hearing your cheery voice greet them and take orders, before machines were whirring into life, dulling moments later to reveal the sound of the cash register dinging and then the bell was signalled again as they left. When the throbbing in his skull eventually gave in, and he was just left with a slightly sensitive patch on the back of his head that was raised up in a firm and angry bump he was sure would come to cause struggle later that night when he got in bed, he finally ventured back into the main shop again.

He searched for you, concern flicking over his features for only a second, before you were popping out from behind the Christmas tree, a box of ornaments under your hands, and he could see the fairy lights already strung within the branches, yet to be turned on at the socket. You caught his eye, a sweet smile pulling at your lips, before he took tentative steps over to you, holding his hands out to retrieve the cardboard box in your hands.

You let him have it, and he held it steadily for you, following you in circles around the tree until he was dizzy, but you were beginning to be happy with the placements of the colour scheme and the ornaments put up among the branches. It was domestic, far too domestic for his liking, and he couldn't help the way his mind wandered.

He was picturing you setting up a slightly smaller tree in the corner of his apartment, wearing one of his jumpers and a pair of leggings, the fluffy socks he got you as a gift every year, sipping eggnog and singing to Christmas music the way you did when the songs came on over the radio, interspersed with the regular hits that played on loop. He pictured getting to come up behind you, arms around your waist, kissing at your cheek until your face screwed up and you turned to kiss him properly. He was dreaming about Christmas day, not needing an excuse to kiss you, cold days where you’d snuggle up a little closer to him in bed, and on the couch, and getting to hold your hand when you wandered along in the snowy streets with him. He wanted to sip hot chocolate with you, and take you home to meet his parents and all of his siblings as his mom showed you baby photos from the albums, an-

“You remember our first Christmas?”

He snapped back out of his reverie, a blush crawling up his cheeks as you looked at him expectantly, and he wondered idly if you’d been talking this whole time and he’d just missed it all, but he only nodded, a smile taking place in his face as he thought about it. “Yeah, ‘course I do. How could I forget? It was a nightmare.”

He told no lie, it truly had been disastrous. It wasn’t the same kind of icy but dry chill that surrounded you both now, this year was a perfect white Christmas, just enough snow to keep everyone inside, three days of peaceful quiet as the flakes fell down from the sky. That had been a weirdly warm but snowy Christmas. The snow was melting when it hit the ground, muddy ice and slushy trails now that were slippy, the floors were constantly wet and needed to be mopped.

There had been angry customers, frustrated with the weather that snapped when the machines took too long to grind beans, or their order was a little off, or they just didn’t like the prices. The pair of you had been run off of your feet, absolutely exhausted by the end of it all, and more than happy to shut up shop at the end of the 23rd, not to return until the 27th.

“Last year wasn’t so bad.”

“Until I burned the gingerbread biscuits, and we had to call the fire department.” He felt his face screw up again as you laughed, souring as he remembered the burnt spice scent that had lingered around for almost a full week afterwards, and the way he was certain he was going to lose his job when the boss had found out, but he’d just about been spared, on a probationary period. Truly, he wouldn't have been all torn up about it if he’d lost the job, he could easily get another, but he would’ve been begrudging to lose out on all the time he got to spend with you.

“That was very funny. For me, anyway.” He stuck his tongue out childishly at your teasing, dropping the box in his arms down when the final decorations were up on the tree, and letting out a satisfied little sigh as the two of you looked up at your masterpiece. “Holy shit, it looks awesome. I should be a professional Christmas tree decorator. Is that a thing?”

“Probably. For, like, the really rich people who have those fancy trees that always just seem to show up in the living room in movies.” You grinned, shaking your head and gathering up all the boxes and storage, pushing it away towards the counter with your foot. “You’d have to make all your money at Christmas. Think you can fit in that many trees?”

“Nah. I’ll just do, like, three trees a day but charge a grand each time. That’s how good my tree decorating skills are.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, watching as you found the right plug, flicking on the socket as you scoffed.

“What, you don't think my tree-skills are that good?” He shrugged, and you raised your brows, plugging the device in, lowering the lighting of the room a little bit with the switch on the wall, and admiring the glow of the lights as they all came to life. He had to admit, it was stunning. Warm lights were reflecting from gold and silver decorations, the star at the top seeming like it was haloed by the light below, and it brought every other decoration in the little shop together. “How about now?”

You came back over, standing beside him, lifting his arm for you to tuck yourself under, and he chuckled at the action, fingers running gently along your arm as you settled yourself into his side, trying to steady his racing heart as he did. “Okay, fair enough. This would look epic on your tree portfolio.”

“I knew it.”

He only rolled his eyes, leaving the conversation at that, tipping his head to the side a little to rest his cheek atop the crown of your head. Maybe it wasn’t the way he'd daydreamed it, but he was happy to wait until that time came around. You stood there for a while, just like that, and he was more than happy to, just holding you, and letting your fingers play with the front of his jumper, tangling lightly and brushing hard enough that he could feel it all the way through to his skin.

“Been a good two hours since we had any customers, y’know.” He startled a little, the silence broken, and he looked over to the clock, noting you were right, having become distracted with your tree decorating and reminiscing, and the light outside was beginning to fade away.

“I think, if we closed up a little early, nobody would mind.”

You turned, a little glint in your eyes as you looked at him, raising a hand to pat at his cheek with a smirk, and he slapped your hand away. “I like the way you think, Twombly.”

He followed you as you went, the two of you more than used to the routine you’d got through as you began the closedown of the little coffee shop. He was on trash and machine duty, he’d empty all the filters and change all the bins and shut everything down after setting it off on its cleaning cycles. You went through the fridges, making sure every bottle was closed and counted, writing up the stock sheets, and going upstairs to the storage rooms to get more of anything you’d run out of during the day, before wiping down all of the tables.

Just like that, the two of you were off. Working in a perfect harmony with one another, humming along to Christmas music as you worked. You disappeared for a little while, and he was left alone, beginning to get everything finished, and stacking up the various trash bags in the corner, all but one machine now on their cleaning cycle, sterile tablets put into each to make sure they were thoroughly disinfected, and he couldn't help but notice how good the tree the pair of you had set up actually looked as the light began to fade. Only ten minutes until the actual closing time of the shop, and if there was one huge benefit to the winter, it was that people never came out as late.

Summer brought groups of teens who were too young to drink coming to the coffee shop to meet up, drinking iced teas and thinking they ruled the world, and he hated the backchat he got whenever he had to kick them out at closing time in order to be able to gather up the fold-away chairs that lay outside. In the winter, they didn't even bother putting those chairs out. Placing two of the tallest mugs under the spouts of the final remaining machine, he set it off, a generous dash of gingerbread syrup in the bottom of one. He made a jug of hot milk, foaming at the top, and watching as they began to fill up, hearing the creaks of the floorboards over his head as you moved around the stock room and gathered what you needed.

Only moments later, you were making your way down the stairs, uneven steps, before backing your way into the room and huffing, placing the full crate down onto the counter and blowing a piece of air back and out of your face.

“Can we make a deal?”

“Depends on the deal.” He smirked at the way your face hardened a little, even though both of you already knew that he would say ‘yes’, for you.

“Will you put away the last boxes of unused Christmas things if I take out the trash bags instead?” He sighed, seeming to contemplate it, before giving you a cheeky grin, and nodding his head.

“Well, I suppose so.”

You beamed, leaning up to brush a kiss to his cheek as you passed him by, before you were moving away towards the backdoor to find the trash, and he went back to the task he was doing. He swirled in the milk, artfully making sure there was a layer of foam at the top as the coffee poured in, the perfect mix reaching up to the top of each mug, right to the rim, and he placed them both further away on the counter. Leaving them to cool, he did as you’d asked, carrying the boxes up the stairs two at a time, shivering a little at the backdoor that was popped open, and deep down, he was glad he didn’t have to do the task, the industrial waste bins being all the way at the opposite end of the pathway, and there was at last three trips worth of bags there.

It was still snowing, a few flakes gathering in the doorway and melting as they touched the floor, and Stuart made a mental note to heat up some heating pads and put them into his bed before getting ready to sleep tonight, so his covers would be nice and warm when he got into them later tonight. He still had time, and so he put away the box of stock you’d brought down, returning the box to the stockroom and jogging back down. There were no more bags, he knew you must be on your way back by now, and so the timing was perfect, both of you finishing up your set of tasks in correlation.

Using the shape stencil for the chocolate powders, he placed one over the top of your drink, sprinkling the dust across the top until a layer was made, a brown heart sitting prominently on the top of the foamy surface, and he pushed it over to one side of the counter, dusting his own with cinnamon, and taking a seat on the opposite side of the bar, blowing gently on the surface of the drink.

He heard the drag of the metal, the chill being shut out as you closed the door and the sound of locks bolting, before making your way through to meet him. There was snow in your hair that you were trying to shake loose, and goosebumps raised along your skin, and you let out a little huff as you sat opposite him, hands wrapping around your mug for warmth, and he raised his brows, taking a sip of his drink as he stared at you.

“It’s cold as fuck out there.” You smiled a little at the gesture on top, the shape in the foam, offering him an endearing smile, before running a wooden stirrer through it to mix it all up.

“You didn’t think to wear your coat?”

“Didn’t think it was that cold, and by the time I was halfway through, I just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.” You shrugged casually, and he studied you for a moment, before feeling the wicked grin that was cracking across his cheeks.

“You didn’t bring one, did you?”

You paused for a second, before shaking your head with a sigh, and he cheered internally at being right. “I hate that you can read me so well, Twombly. But, no. I didn’t bring a jumper, and I didn’t want to put on my coat because then it would be wet and cold for the walk home.”

He disappeared for only a second, bringing his hoodie back through in his hands, and holding the top of it up for you. You pushed your head through the gap, arms following, and he pulled it down your torso as you cozied into it, before he was sitting down once again, and enjoying the appreciative little noise you left out as the warmth of the oversized hoodie embraced you.

“You are a gift from God himself. You make me my favourite hot drinks, and you keep me warm so I don’t get a chill. Whatever would I do without you, huh, Stu?”

He scrunched up his nose at the nickname, hating the word himself, but loving the way it sounded when you said it, and so he settled for tolerating it in silence, a single shoulder raising and falling in a weak attempt to brush off the gestures, in hopes you wouldn't look too far into them. “Speaking of gifts, check the front pocket.”

He nodded his head to the garment now hanging on your frame, and your jaw dropped, excitement flashing across your features and he sipped his drink to hide his grin, watching as you dug both hands into the pockets, pulling out a small and neatly wrapped box that he’d had ready to give to you for two weeks now.

You placed it down on the tabletop before you, eyeing it for a second before giving in to your curiosity and running a nail underneath the seal of the wrapping. It popped open, and you undid it carefully, before pulling out the box from within. Undoing the latch and pushing it open delicately, there was a little gasp on your lips as you took in the design inside, eyes flicking up to him for a second, and there was something considerably softer and warmer evident in your eyes than had been there before.

“Stuart, this is so pretty.” You ran the pad of a single finger across it, admiring the gem within, before pulling it out slowly by its string. A beautiful charm, silver chain that was shining, a new clasp put on, holding a beautiful charm along it; your birthday stone. “Can you put it on for me?”

He was on his feet in an instant, making his way over to you and standing behind you, taking it from your hands and letting you sweep your hair out of the way before he was fastening it around your neck, and letting you admire it on yourself. “I saw it a few weeks ago, in that little vintage charity shop type store down the road, the one you love, and I just knew you’d like it.”

“Correction, I love it.” He beamed, daring to reach a hand out across the table towards you, and you spread your fingers wide for him, enough for him to slip his own digits with yours, holding onto you as your joint hands sat atop the counter. “I got you something too.”

“Well, can I have it?”

“Uh, not quite. Well, not until next summer.” He snorted a laugh, using his free hand to take a sip of his drink. “And, it’s not really something you open, it’s more just something you do.”

“Is it something we can do together?”

“No.” You hummed, squeezing his hand a little at the confusion that flittered across his features. “You know, you’re meant for more than this coffeeshop, Stu. You’re so smart, and so good with all your computers and your tech, and I know you want more.”

“Uh-huh..”

He was confused, he had no idea where you were taking this, and his eyes narrowed apprehensively as he tried to work out where you were going with it all, and what it could possibly have to do with his Christmas present. “You always say you want to go for some amazing opportunities, but don’t think you’re good enough. But, I know you are. So, I may or may not have signed you up to a few things.”

“I feel like this is leading to something weird, like, a tantric sex course, or something.”

You gave him a disbelieving look, a low chuckle emitted from you, before you were shaking your head. “No, not tantric sex. Unless they do that at Google, I’m not sure.”

“Google?”

“Yeah.” You played it off like it was no big deal, but his jaw dropped slightly, and you were staring into your mug with a little smile on your face. “They do this internship thing every year, as you know, since you told me about it, but you didn’t think you had what it takes. I sent in an application form for you, and did some emailing, and there’s a place available for you if you want it. Next summer, six weeks long, I think, but they provide everything. You don’t have to take it, you can turn it down, but I think it could be the beginning of an amazing future for you, Stuart.”

He didn’t know what to say, his eyes were burning slightly as tears formed, and he laughed breathlessly, ducking his head to try and blink them away, before he was taking his hand from your own to wipe at his eyes. His head shook with disbelief, and he felt his entire body deflate with the contented sigh that he let out. “They really accepted me?”

“They did! I’ve been telling you for years how good you are, Stuart, you just have to believe it.”

“You’re the most incredible woman I have ever met.” He looked back up to you now, a look he couldn't quite decipher flashing over your features, before your head was ducking as you nibbled on your lower lip, embarrassment taking place. “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before.”

“You deserve it.”

“Maybe, but I don’t deserve you.”

Your lips pursed, head shaking vehemently as you wrapped both hands around the one of his that you were holding. “You deserve everything good in the world, Stuart Twombly. I promise you that.”

Stuart was pretty sure that he had never wanted to kiss you more than he wanted to kiss you right now, but before he could work up the nerve, you were standing up, bringing yourself off a little, and taking the box of his gift and placing it back in your pocket. Throwing away the wrapping paper, you made it to his side, arms wrapping around his middle as your hands smoothed over his back, cheek on his shoulder, and he could feel your short puffs of breath against his neck, and he didn’t hesitate for even a single second to wrap you up tightly in the returning of the hug.

You remained that way for a while, letting him trace his fingers up and down your spine, until you had decided that you’d had enough. He would never get tired of it though. The way you felt in his arms and the way you would cling to him in that unique way that you did, the smell of your varying body sprays and perfumes that changed with the seasons, and your heart thudding against his chest through your own, everything that made each hug one of his favourite moments.

“Do you want me to walk you home tonight?”

“I would love that, actually.” You pulled away from him then, and he regretted speaking, but you were giving him that smile that was reserved only to be shared between the two of you when you were alone, and he’d do anything to see it, to keep it on your face, and so he was willing to let the hug go. “Let me go grab about coats.”

He only nodded, draining away what was left of your drinks and leaving the mugs upside down on the counter beside the dishwasher, ready to be cleaned and restored to the shelves before opening time tomorrow. You were already wearing your coat when you returned, holding his out to him, and as soon as he took it, your hands were buried into your pockets. He fished out his keys, a hand on your lower back as he guided you towards the door, letting you turn off all the fairy lights and main lamps, the building closing down into darkness.

As the door was pulled open, cold air swept in, a groan on your lips as you exited into the icy chill, snow crunching under your feet as you went, leaving your marks in the pristine covering, shuddering a little as you did. He locked up, hearing you kicking at piles of snow absentmindedly behind him, before the building was all locked up and the shutters were pulled down, locking the building up tight to be protected for another night. Then, he was pulling up his hood, protecting himself against the cold weather, and falling into step beside you on the way he was accustomed to walking in the direction of your apartment.

You didn’t have a hood, and he patted down his pockets, finding the item he was looking for, and bringing it up to place on your head, hands smoothing over your hair as the garment was adjusted, before deciding he was happy with the way it looked.

“You had your beanie with you the whole time, today?”

“I always have my beanie with me.” He teased, reaching a hand into your pocket boldly, and lacing cold fingers with your warm ones, feeling you squeeze back and hold onto him tightly. His other hand was tucked into his own pocket, and he had to bite at the inside of his cheek just to be able to contain his smile.

“Well, why didn’t you wear it? You needed it, today of all days.” He huffed a little at your teasing, in reference to the fall he had taken hours ago.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to be different today, I guess.”

“Well, you don’t need to be different. I happen to adore you just the way you are.” He didn’t bother to reply, simply twisting his head to press a kiss to your temple, before a simple silence was taking up around you both. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be in a comfortable kind of quiet, whether you were physically together or on the phone, or a video call, it was just a norm. Sometimes, when he had college work to do, he’d ring you, and let you go about everything you were doing at home, just to have some company. Sometimes, when your anxiety was getting the better of you and you’d feel a little overwhelmed, you’d call him, and he’d talk to you about anything and everything he could think of until you fell asleep, or felt better.

It was just the way the two of you operated, another way in which the pair of you created a perfect balance and harmony together.

It was a short walk, and only a few lights in your building were still lit up, but he knew that most of your neighbours were older couples, but that you’d chosen that purposefully, for a more peaceful place to live. When he reached the bottom of the steps you were cautious to stand in the spots where snow had been cleared and salt laid down, the centres of the steps, as you climbed up onto the first one. You were taller than him by a few inches now, and he was looking up at you, your hands moving to rest on his shoulders.

“Thanks for walking me, Stuart.” He could only nod, swallowing thickly, and trying to gain some confidence. Today had been the best day yet that the two of you had spent together, it had all been one, long, ‘moment’ between you both. Uninterrupted and without anything to shatter it, he’d loved every moment, and he didn’t want to let his chance slip away as a new day threatened to wipe the slate clean. “Out with it, Twombly. What’s going through that brilliant head of yours?”

“Just, that today was amazing. With you, it was incredible.”

“I had a great day too, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, and he laughed lightly, watching as your eyes twinkled with your own amusement.

“I know, it’s just that I had such a good day I don’t want it to end. But, I never want days with you to end.” He could feel fear taking over, logic about knowing you must feel the same way flying out of the window, and he felt like a teenager again, trying to ask the popular girl to be his date to the latest school dance. “I felt like there was something special today, though. When you were looking after me after I bumped my head, before a customer came in.”

He took a deep breath, watching the way your lips flicked up at the sides, and he scowled a little, now knowing that you knew exactly what he was talking about, and forcing him to say it anyway.

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“Maybe I do.” You teased, and he grumbled a little under his breath, but he could never really be angry with you for your teases, not when you looked so cute while doing so.

“I just think that me and you have something special, and I’d hate myself if I didn’t say anything when I had the chance, if some other schmuck came in and swept you up before I had the chance to tell you how I really f-” He was shocked, a gasp on his lips as he felt you push into him. Your hands had moved from his shoulders to rest lightly on his neck, heart racing under your palms and as he realised that you were kissing him, a soft moan bubbled up from within him.

When he finally managed to wrap his head around what was going on, he lifted one hand up to place over your cheek, pressing back into you enthusiastically, and the other settled on your waist. Underneath your coat, his fingers flexed against your waist, pulling you closer and letting you step back down to his height as your chest came flush up with his. It was slow, the drag of your lips over his, soft and short kisses that were pressed in between soft sighs and smiles, gasps for breath before you were diving into each other once again.

He let his tongue poke out, needing more from you as he found himself beginning to drown in the taste of your mouth, and the way it felt to finally indulge in what he’d been wanting for so long, and he needed more. He traced the seam of your lips, and you parted them for him almost instantly, dipping your own tongue out to play with his own, and it felt like an entirely new high. Dragging together, tangling, playing as you learned one another’s mouths, got to know each other in a whole new and more intimate way than ever before, and he was sure his head was spinning.

He needed breath, desperately, but he wasn’t ready to pull back just yet, and then you did, a whine sliding form him as he puckered his lips and chased after you in a way that he really should have been embarrassed about, but couldn't find it to do so. You had swollen and shining lips, hair slightly messy from the hand of his own that had slid into the locks, and you were flushed, panting a little for breath as you stared up at him through darkened but widened eyes.

“That might be the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

He grinned, dragging the tip of his nose against your own, and stealing a few more quick kisses from your lips, looking down at you once again as you found yourself standing on the ground alongside him. You were tugged into him close enough that he could feel your heart beating against his own, just as fast and unsteady, showing him that you felt the same way he did, and that he affected you just as you affected him.

“You taste like gingerbread.”

He smirked a little, something like a giggle and sigh leaving you as you nodded your head, shrugging slightly before running your hands back down his arms to take his hands in your own. With foreheads pressed together, you pecked his lips once more, and Stuart swore this was what heaven felt like. “Well, you did make me a gingerbread spiced coffee before we left the shop.”

“They are your favourite, you have a ton of them every winter, I knew you’d like one.”

“I didn’t know you noticed that.” You smiled, and he brushed a thumb over your cheek, tipping your head back to catch his eye.

“I’ve had a thing for you for quite a while, I just never knew what to do about it, and you were in a relationship, so I was left learning stupid little endearing facts about you.” He grinned, and you gasped, shoving him a little while never letting go of his hand.

“Stuart, I’ve been flirting with you constantly for like eight months. You never made a move!”

“I just made a move!”

You only laughed more, pursed lips as you stared at him. “Nope! Pretty sure I’m the one who kissed you, actually.”

He could only roll his eyes and smile, nodding his head and leaning back in. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He closed the gap, another sweet and tender kiss being shared between you both. Sensual and soft, he decided that if he could live in this exact moment forever, he’d be more than happy with that, kissing the Christmassy reminiscent taste from your lips as you held onto him so tightly.

When you finally pulled away, you were walking backwards up the steps, tugging him with you a little, and offering him a coy smirk. “Wanna’ come up for a Christmas spiced nightcap?”

He let out a loud laugh at that, louder than he should have when all the downstairs lights were turned off, but he couldn't help it, following you up the steps and weaving your fingers together properly. “Can’t imagine anything better.”

“I’ll tell you all about your internship when we get up there.” You were patting down your pockets, finding your keys and making sure to lock the main door building carefully behind yourself, and he trailed after you, as quietly as possible.

“I can’t wait.”

#stuart twombly #stuart twombly x reader #stuart twombly x reader smut #stuart twombly/reader #stuart twombly/reader smut #stuart twombly the internship #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien the internship #dylan obrien stuart twombly #12 Days of AUmas

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themandhoelorian · 3 years

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Dincember - December 4: Hot Chocolate

summary: Mando has unique ways of showing his affection for his son, like getting him hyper on too many cups of hot chocolate, but it’s only after a long day of bringing the kid down from his sugar high that you realize Mando has similar ways of showing how much he cares for you.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: a caffeine addiction, sleep deprivation, the smallest sexual innuendo, Din being sweeter than hot chocolate, not super well edited ahaha

word count: 3.2k

a/n: asdfghkldf this is so so late but this week has been long and exhausting (no this fic was definitely NOT me projecting), and I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to write :/. I’m not even really sure this makes sense, but that’s kind of how my brain works when it’s exhausted, so hopefully on some level that’s accurate ahaha

***

You never understood the appeal of caf until you joined Mando’s crew.

The first time someone offered you a cup, that one day you showed up to the tiny mechanic shop of your first job with bags under your eyes, complaining about how little sleep you’d gotten the night before, you thought you’d been handed a steaming cup of motor oil by accident instead.

The dark liquid felt like lava on the roof of your mouth, leaving the taste of bitter ash on your tongue as you willed sip after sip down your throat. It did pull you out of the sleep-deprived fog, but it was more of a jolt in the opposite direction than a gentle tug, your body shooting into overdrive and hands shaking so intensely you burned your fingers on your soldering iron more times than you could count that day.

After that, you tried to stay away from caf as much as possible. No matter how little you’d slept the night before, how often you were caught staring blankly at the wall instead of untangling a mess of wires, you always refused when you saw a mug of hellfire coming your way. The acrid taste, the jitters, none of it was worth enduring when you just had to make it to closing before you could go home and sleep away the fatigue.

But now, your full time job is taking care of a child, and every night is a night with too little sleep. You spend your days trying to wrangle a warm, mischievous demon into compliance instead of just manipulating cold scraps of metal, and the kid doesn’t have “closing hours”- not with how violently he reacts to the notion of bedtime- so there’s never a sweet finish line to look forward to at the end of the day.

You thought you’d known exhaustion before, felt it heavy on your shoulders those months you worked overtime to make ends meet, but that was light years away from what you feel now. The black hole of sleep consumes you as soon as you get the chance to lie down, and when you inevitably wake to the sound of cries a few hours later, it feels like the weight of the galaxy is crushing your lungs, making it nearly impossible to crawl back out of bed.

So after just a few weeks on the Crest, after that one day when you accidentally dozed off watching the kid play and woke to find him sticking a finger into the barrel of a blaster (thankfully Mando had the sense not to keep his weapons loaded on the ship or Maker, that could’ve ended badly), you bought a caf maker on the next planet and forced yourself to chug a cup every morning since.

The taste still sucks, no matter how much cream you’ve tried mixing in, but it doesn’t make you jittery like it used to, the caffeine just enough to keep you awake, and now you don’t know how you ever took care of the little womp rat without it, especially on the days when Mando returns from his hunts and the child bursts with energy to welcome his father home.

Even if it’s only been a couple days since Mando left, you’d think he’d been gone for months with the way they act at seeing each other again. The kid’s just downright ecstatic, dropping whatever part he’s playing with as soon as he hears the hiss of the hull opening and babbling excitedly as he runs into his father’s arms. He’ll follow Mando’s every move for at least an hour after he’s returned, and sometimes, you have to literally pry him from the beskar so Mando can retreat to the cockpit and set the course to the next planet.

And then there’s Mando. He’ll look stoic as ever as he takes the child into his arms, but you can feel how eager he is to reunite with his son, his affection all but spilling out the sides of his armored chest. He’ll never admit it, of course, you’re not sure he’d even be able to find the words to say it if he wanted to, but he finds other ways to show the kid how much he missed him, how deeply he cares about his little foundling.

More often than not, those methods include spoiling the child to no end, giving into the kid’s every desire and providing him with a few moments of pure, unrestrained joy. And more often than not, you’re left with the not-so-simple task of dealing with the consequences of giving the child his every wish, easing him down from the euphoric high and re-establishing that he absolutely cannot expect that kind of indulgence with anyone but his father.

Like one time, Mando stayed awake with him all night long, conceding five more minutes every time the kid whined when he was told it was time for bed. Five minutes quickly turned into hours as they watched the bright mosaic of hyperspace go by, the kid so happy to just sit in Mando’s lap while he spoke in the soothing tones of his people’s tongue. You were only able to pull the child from his father’s arms in the early hours of the morning, all three of you only half conscious at that point, and you spent several cycles trying to get the kid (and yourself) back on a normal sleep schedule.

Or like today, when Mando returned this morning while it was still dark outside, and you woke to the smell of cocoa and peppermint what felt like mere minutes after you’d fallen asleep. When you finally pulled yourself from the bunk, you found Mando sitting next to the child as they sipped on steaming liquid, his helmet tilted back just enough for him to bring the mug to his lips.

He made the kid hot chocolate, you realized from the way the child threw back his bowl so quickly he left milky brown splotches on his face. Of course. Mando had made a habit of bringing sweets back for his son after he’d once gotten his hands on a chocolate bar you’d splurged on in the market, nearly bouncing off the walls with glee as he devoured the entire thing in seconds. That was a memorable day for all of you: the kid found his new favorite snack, Mando found another way to indulge the child, and you found out that when the kid has sugar in his system, you need caf more than water to survive the day.

So it’s no surprise that several hours and a couple more servings of hot chocolate later, long after Mando’s gone to the cockpit to fly to the next planet, you’re chasing the tiny ball of energy around the hull, running on nothing but an unhealthy amount of caf mixed with a little bit of spite, worried you might collapse before the sugar-fueled monster falls asleep.

You have half a mind to be mad at Mando for getting the kid so hyped up on the decadent drink and inevitably making your job that much harder, but you can’t get the image of them together this morning out of your head, Mando dabbing the mess from the child’s face as giggles bubbled from his tiny mouth. The memory’s shaded with the golden haze of dawn, like those dreams that feel warm and familiar, and you can feel your heart swell re-imagining that moment of perfect bliss, father and son so content just to be with each other and the sweetness in their cups.

And oh, you know you could never be upset at Mando for indulging the kid, creating those little pockets of warmth in a life filled mostly by cold, dead space, no matter how much more work it makes for you. Not when you know that he savors those moments as much as the child, that the days he’s back with his son are the only times he doesn’t have to be tough and menacing and deadly, the Crest the only place he doesn’t have to armor up his feelings just as much as his body.

You’re willing to reign in the kid, be the tough one on the ship, if it means Mando can show his son the softness that lies beneath the beskar, tuck away the sharp edges when he holds the little green menace in his lap. You’re willing to lose weeks of sleep course-correcting after each indulgence if it means he can let the honey of his love ooze thick and messy before he’s off to the next quarry and has to lock his affection behind iron walls again. You’re even willing to drink all the caf in the galaxy, let cup after cup burn bitter down your throat, if it means he can have a moment of peace sipping hot chocolate with his son at the break of dawn.

You’re more than willing, happy even, to do all that and more for him, especially if it means you can catch glimpses of the man behind the guise of “Mando” in the process, a man whose heart you’ve found yourself wondering more and more about lately, wondering if it might one day beat strong and steady for you the same way it does for the kid.

So no, you’re not mad at Mando, not in the slightest. It’s more that right now you’re worried you might not be physically able to do those things for him, the shorter than usual night of sleep catching up with you faster than you can fight it off with caf. You’re pretty sure it stopped working after your third cup anyway, the additional caffeine just making you dizzy and no more energized, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep up with the child’s pace. You’ve played peekaboo and thrown around his favorite silver ball and even tried to show him how to rewire an old generator (not that you had any luck with that), and he still hasn’t crashed from his sugar high.

You have no idea what else to do to keep the child busy, and Maker, you’re just so kriffing tired right now, so you’ve resorted to leaning against the door of the weapons closet, floating in that hazy space on the brink of consciousness, using what little of your energy remains to make sure he at least won’t get his hands on a blaster again.

You’re not even completely sure what the kid’s doing right now, just know he’s somewhere on the other side of the hull, and you can only hope that Mando doesn’t come down here and find you and the kid like this. The last thing you want to do is make him worry, doubt how much you care about his son’s well being, but it’s like he can feel your exhaustion radiating through the ship because the next thing you know, the heavy echoes of his boots fill the hull as he descends the ladder from the cockpit.

You will yourself to sit up straighter as you hear his footsteps getting louder, locate the child before Mando can, but your body is working on a little bit of a lag, and by the time you actually open your eyes, Mando’s walking past you, the child snoring softly in his arms.

Of course he fell asleep as soon as you took eyes off of him, the little monster.

Mando doesn’t say anything as he tucks the child into his makeshift bed before striding back to the other side of the hull, and some faraway part of your brain tells you to explain yourself or apologize or say kriffing anything at this point, but the inky gravity of sleep is pulling you in deeper with each passing moment, and you can’t be bothered to speak when your eyes are threatening to droop shut again.

They must have at some point because you don’t remember seeing Mando approach you, but somehow he’s in front of you now, holding a mug out in front of your face. Maker, you must’ve drifted off, long enough for him to decide you needed some help staying awake and make you a cup of caf, and as you reach for it instinctively, bringing the cup to your lips in the trained motion, you can’t decide if it’s just as a thoughtful gesture or a thinly veiled warning for you to actually do your job.

You hum as the warm liquid coats your tongue, deliciously silky and slightly sweet, and it’s only when you swallow, the milky substance gliding down your throat, that you realize-

“This isn’t caf,” you mumble, looking up from the mug to meet Mando’s gaze.

“I never said it was.”

You just stare at him wordlessly, trying to figure out why he made you hot chocolate when it’s not going to make you any more functional. You have no idea how long you sit there thinking, too far gone to even understand the concept of time right now, but it must be a while because he breaks the silence first with a sigh.

“Cyar’ika, you have to stop drinking that crap. It’s not good for you.”

“Need it,” you respond, almost too quickly considering how long it took you to answer him before. Apparently the only thing you can understand in this groggy fog is your caf addiction. “Gonna fall asleep if not.”

“You’re about to anyway. Come on, you need to sleep.”

For some reason you giggle at that, unable to stop the laughter rising through your chest. He’s right, of course, but it just seems so damn funny right now that Mando, who has told you he rarely sleeps when he’s away, who you’ve never seen rest for more than an hour at a time, is telling you that you’re the one that needs sleep.

“You sleep even less than me, Mando. You can’t talk,” you accuse.

He jerks his helmet back in something like disbelief, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling again.

“Well I’m not the one falling asleep on the floor right now,” he counters.

“That’s fair,” you admit. You take a few more sips of the hot chocolate, closing your eyes in pleasure as the warmth floods your veins. Maybe it’s just because you’re so used to the sharp bite of caf, but the sugary drink feels so good, like something comforting and familiar though you can’t quite place your finger on where you recognize it from. It’s almost like you’re wrapped up in the thickest blanket or, even better, by strong arms as you’re lulled to sleep, and you’re not sure that’s what you were thinking of, but you realize that’s exactly what you want right now.

And then your stupid, half-conscious brain decides to ask for it in the worst way possible.

“How about this, I’ll sleep if you sleep with me.”

You only catch how kriffing suggestive it sounds as the words come tumbling out of your mouth, but then all at once, you’re utterly aware of how much you’ve been embarrassing yourself. First getting caught falling asleep on the job and then accidentally making a very blunt pass at your boss, and Maker, you’re just a whole ass mess today aren’t you? Suddenly you feel very awake, your eyes going wide as you stumble over your words trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh stars, I didn’t mean sleep with me, that’s definitely not what I, well, not that I wouldn’t…no, I just- I do need sleep but so do you, even if you’re not actually falling asleep right now, so I was just gonna say that we should both-”

But then your rambling is cut off by a chuckle coming from the modulator, his voice light and playful in a way you’ve never heard before.

If you weren’t so kriffing worried about what he was thinking about you right now, you might’ve thought it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“I know what you meant, cyar’ika,” he says.

Oh, thank Maker, you think, waves of something like relief washing warm over your body. You’re not quite sure how he can understand what it is you want when you can’t even articulate it yourself, but your brain is still too foggy to care, deciding it doesn’t really matter how he knows you so well, just that he does.

Mando eases the mug from your hands, the worn leather of his gloves brushing lightly over your knuckles. You whine in protest as he steals the liquid comfort from your fingers, but it’s quickly replaced by his hands wrapping around yours to help you off the ground.

“I’ll make you more tomorrow,” he assures you, his voice as velvety as the drink he just took from your grasp. “But now, we need to sleep.”

We, not you.

You barely catch the distinction as he leads you to the bunk while his thumb rubs soothing circles on your lower back, but it just leaves you even more confused in your sleepy daze. You didn’t think he was actually going to entertain your suggestion, even if he did take it in the more innocent way, and when you crawl into the bunk and he doesn’t follow, you think maybe you just misheard him.

But as you close your eyes, your exhaustion starting to pull you away from reality again, you hear the clang of metal on metal behind you, and a gentle tap on your calf halts your descent into the stillness of sleep as Mando climbs into the bunk next to you.

It’s only after he shuts the door, when your body is pressed to his so you both fit in the tiny space, that you realize he’s taken his armor off, the first time he’s ever done so in front of you. You can’t see him at all in the darkness of the bunk, you’re not sure you could even open your eyes again at this point anyway, but even in your delirium you can grasp the weight of how vulnerable he’s making himself right now, letting you run your fingers lazily across the tight muscles of his bicep and rest your head against his broad chest.

And once again, you’re overcome by the feeling of something pleasant and vaguely familiar, your heart swelling the same way it did when you first saw Mando and the child this morning, the same warmth in your veins as the first sip of hot chocolate. You couldn’t quite place it before, but for some reason, as you listen to the way his heart beats strong and steady against you, you think you finally recognize it, the way Mando’s been making you feel all day, the reason he knew exactly what you needed before you could even realize it yourself.

It’s just a hazy flash in the moment before the black hole of sleep finally consumes you, an inkling of a breakthrough you may or not remember tomorrow, but you think this feeling, the acrid taste of caf replaced by smooth chocolate on your tongue, a strong body turned soft as it’s molded to yours, has a four letter name you thought you and Mando only saved for the child.

Maybe that’s why you’re learning to use it for each other too.

#dincember #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin #*drops this and runs away in shame*#ahaha this took so long to write and for what?#asdfghkl don't roast me too bad lmao #emi writes

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

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Desperate situations call for desperate measures. Ch.II Dave York x F!reader. #Writer Wednesday 05/19/21

#Writer Wednesday 05/19/21 for @autumnleaves1991-blog

Summary: After you did your first job for Dave, you’ve been training for this moment. Your first job alone, your first kill.

Warning: Dave York, he’s a warning in his own, descriptions of murder and death, anxiety and panic attacks, blood and injuries. Maybe some kissing...or not

A/N: This is a second part of a series that started with the second picture challenge in a #Writer Wednesday called “Desperate situations call for desperate measures” read it here, it would not make sense if you read this alone. This is slow burn and for the moment I let everything a bit suggestive but it would eventually become hotter. Because Dave is Dave and he likes to torture us.

Desperate situation call for desperate measures. Chapter II

8518 Rayburn Rd, Bethesda, MD 20817

“I’m sorry everything is a mess. I was not used to live alone. My wife left a month ago and I thought I could manage everything by myself at first, but...” the man opens the door to you and lowers his head in shame.

You can see the bare mattress since the fitted sheet is partly touching the carpet and the duvet is a ball at one side, you can see from here that he didn’t bother to change the pillowcases and the one he uses has his head shaped into it with yellowish marks of sweat on them. The rest of the room is sprinkled with dirty laundry and empty glasses and dirty dishes. In front of the bed the closet stays open, no clothes hanging in it as the laundry basket is full and the clothes spills over until they fall around it.

The room stinks and the half closed shutters and the window glass full of dust assure he hasn’t aired it in a long time. He’s a pig, a lazy dirty pig but, does he deserve to die? You breathe deeply trying to ignore the sour taste the smell of the room leaves in your mouth.

“I will do the laundry and change the sheets first” you say with a soft smile

“Thank you, I’ll be in my office if you need me” he walks away in his pajamas and drags his feet over the carpet as if he couldn’t even raise the weight of his legs, destroyed and done with the world, with no clean clothes just a pajama and two non matching socks. And he will die like this. You think is not fair, whatever he has done, he deserves a little bit of dignity. But that’s not your choice. That’s what you have to do, it’s not personal.

You try not to breathe while you pretend to tidy up. When you hear the soft muffle tunes of country music, you know it’s time. You take off your shoes and walk stealthily towards the room at the end of the aisle. From the door you see his bald head, eyes fixed on his computer, and he doesn’t hear you when you come close to him as you have observe from weeks of stalking you know he listens to his music too loudly, so when you insert the needle on his carotid that’s the first time he notices you.

His head turns with an expression of horror and surprise, his blue eyes widely open while his thin capillaries burst clouding his eyeballs in red while he gasps.

“Shhh” you hear yourself making soothing sounds to him and you hold his head with care with your hands covered in black latex gloves. It’s no personal, you repeat in your head when you see how he face contorts when the air is not longer getting inside his lungs, the veins in his neck are thick and visible through his now red skin. You turn your head and try to remember all the shit Dave has told you. You try to remember his deep voice, his hands guiding your movements

“It’s not personal” he said and now you repeat it loudly, the target expires and he tenses for a moment and then you let him go, his face hitting the keyboard.

“It’s not personal” you whimper and hold back the tears remembering the DNA that you absolutely cannot leave.

You didn’t even catch his name, you actually think you ignore it once he told you, but now it doesn’t matter, because with name or without it, his face will burn forever in your mind. Your first job, your first kill.

It’s not personal.

6 months ago. Dave’s car, after the phone booth call

“We have arrived” his palm burns on your cheek and you suddenly remember where you are. His cologne and aftershave on his wool coat, the fresh and clean scent inside his car and the mud you have brought inside it.

“Arrive where?” you raise on your sit and look through the windows, it’s a common street, small apartments buildings stuck to one and other, a few cars parked to both sides and the sidewalks glow with the dew of the imminent sunrise.

“Safe house” he says before exiting the car, you see him turn until he opens your door and bends down looking at you like evaluating if you could get out on yourself “Come” Dave lends you his hand and you take it holding it tightly trying to gather the strength to move your legs but they shake so violently that Dave grabs you by the waist and pulls you out of the car. Your body, used to the warmth inside the vehicle, tremble and your muscles stiffen in the chill air of the dawn.

You lean on Dave and let him drag you to the stairs of the building while your head rests on his shoulder “we haven’t use this once in a while, but for tonight it will do” he comments as he opens the glass door. There’s no sound coming from the few flats on each floor, some of the walls look half painted and you wonder if there’s someone living here, would he own a damn building in the center of the city?

The apartment is big, dark wood parquet and white walls make the room look open and there’s only a marble isle with two stools close to the kitchen and a grey sofa in front of it.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom. You need a warm bath”

He lets you seated on the toilet while he prepares everything. You observe him, he wears all black: a hoodie and sweatpants and it’s a drastic change from the first time you met him. His brown hair is disheveled as if he had taken off a hat or a helmet. Where was he before you called him?

“There’re only man clothes here, but tomorrow I will bring you something more suitable” He has a duffle bag and he takes out some small shampoo and shower gel bottles, toothbrush and paste and a plastic zip bag full of what looks like to be different medication.

“You’re always prepared” you mutter and you feel your voice coarse and how it stings to say anything. You screamed, a lot, you remember now how they killed Tom and how you fled.

“We have to be” Dave bends down and adjusts the temperature while the water runs down from the shower head. He extends his hand to the stream “I think it’s warm enough. I leave you to it” he gives you one of those warm smiles and you notice now that a dimple appears when he does it. You know nothing of him but for some reason you’re sure that he doesn’t let many people see this kind of gentleness and it makes your heart beat faster. You hope that smile is only for you, that you own that little part of him.

You get up and stumble when your head turns

“Hey take it easy. There’s a towel just on the sink. I’ll wait outside” he lingers on the door frame when you don’t move for a few minutes, your gaze fixed on the bathroom mirror, the steam from the shower cannot conceal the horror it reflects. Your hair is a mess, some of it glued in sweat and mud on your cheek, you have bruises and bleeding scratches all over the skin your stupid dress didn’t cover.

“I’ll be just here, say something if you need me” Dave interrupts your thoughts and he closes the door leaving you alone with you reflection. That woman out of a horror movie you don’t recognize. You strip feeling how every movement makes you flinch, every fiber of your body screaming in pain. You remember how you ran, how you waited hours in the cold mud. Your feet hurt as if you were stepping on fire when you touch the warm water, it runs towards the drain black and red, when your feet are clean you see the blisters and cuts you have on them. You walk humming slowly and you sound just like a zombie and you feel like one. But you’re not dead.

When the warm running water hits your back you moan and you stay there until you feel your muscle untangle, head down watching all the dirt leaving your body. And it feels so nice that you could fall sleep right here, it feels so peaceful that you feel as if your soul could leave your body. But you’re not dead.

You know who’s dead? a voice asks in your head. You mumble his name, the name of your friend. Tom. Yes, he’s dead, probably his body stiff and cold in a puddle of his own blood on the pavement of that dreadful place, and here you are in a nice apartment taking a warm shower. Probably the nicest place you’ve been in a while, your house, his house, the house of your dead friend was not this classy and tidy, but he put a roof over your head, shared the food he had with you even if it was just crumbles, even if he was stupid. Nobody deserves to die like a pig and be let wherever to be never seen again.

Does he have a family? You met other friends of his, they must be worried. What did they do with his body? Where’s his mum? Now that you think about it he used to have some long calls on weekends, maybe it was her o maybe a partner. Anyway somebody must be looking for him or they will be once he doesn’t show up in a few days. They deserve to know. You have to tell Dave about it. No, he will dismiss it. It’s too dangerous...you’re the last person somebody saw Tom with, you lived with him these past few weeks so once they look for him, they will look for you... and how will you explain...

You haven’t noticed how the water is burning your skin and how you breathing is getting faster and faster until you cannot get enough air in your lungs for much you try. You attempt to call Dave but your chest feels like it’s made of stones. The steam and you eyes starts to blurry making it impossible to get out and you hit the glass screen to get out and suddenly they are open and from the white mist you feel his body holding you

He hushes on your forehead as he did when he had picked you up. Holding your head on his big palms he makes you look at him.

“Breathe for me. Can you do that?” and you nod “Try to match my breathing” He place your head to his chest and he inhales deeply and let his air out slowly. You whimper feeling as if your lungs could expand and release the air, but hearing his breathing and feeling how his strong chest is pressed against you pushing you out and back in again. And you can breathe again. “Let’s get you clean and then you can rest” He places your numb body under the shower head while he pours some shower gel on his hand.

It smells just like him, fresh and some deep tones you cannot identify but it relaxes you instantly. You pay no mind that you’re naked as the day you wear born and Dave doesn’t give any sign that it bothers him. He softly grabs one of your arms and brushes his hand leaving pearly white bubbles over your skin and he turns you and cleans your back and then he slowly repeats the process to the other arm “Stay here” he says getting you back to the wall while switches to the shampoo bottle “Lower your head for me” he commands and gently brushes two of his fingers over you nape leaving your skin in gooseflesh.

He scratches your scalp softly massaging from the forehead to your neck, his knuckles softly pressing on your hurting vertebrae and you moan loudly. The pressure you felt over your shoulders swiftly being relieved. “Let’s rinse it and you can go to sleep” his voice is soft and deep, the sweetest music you’ve heard mixed with the murmur of the water. He passes the shower head over your head until you imagine there’s no more soap and then he wraps you in a soft white towel and gets you out of the shower. You walk on your tiptoes, your feet too hurt to fully press them on the ground.

“Almost there” he whispers

The bed is the nicest you have tested in your whole life, the pillows adapt to your head and you moan feeling a mixture of pain, pleasure and tiredness as you have never experience.

“I will let you sleep now and I will come back in the morning” he flips his wrist, his silver watch shakes and he looks at it with disgust for a second “well, in a few hours, you need at least a good 8 hours, and we will see what to do next”

Your mind is foggy and you watch him through semi closed eyes “Thank you” you whisper “but what happens with Tom?” you ask, mid sentence your voice breaks and you exhale all your air before you could give in to the panic again.

Dave raises one eyebrow, seated next to you on the bed; he evaluates you for a second.

“I know he’s dead, I...what about his body? his family?”

“Sadly nobody knows what happened to him... or to you” he sighs, his face show a perfect image of sadness “And nobody will” the change it’s fast, you can see his eyes turn darker, it’s a warning. Nobody will know and you better keep it that way

“But...the police” he hushes you again and a kindly brushes his knuckles over your cheek

“We’ll talk later. Do you think you will sleep or you need me to get you something to help you fall asleep?” he points to the bathroom where he left the plastic zip bag

“No, thank you” you answer and you feel already how you’re slurring the words

“Good girl”

You will think later it was part of your dreams. That your brain was so desperate to find any comfort, to try to stop the never ending loop of Tom’s death in your head that it imagined something you have wanted since you met Dave.

He bends down and comes closer until your faces are almost touching. You feel the tip of his nose and his fresh breath over your cheek but in a second he goes a few millimeters down and his lips touch yours so briefly that when your mind can process it, it’s already gone.

You fight your eyes and your body, you want to whine and ask for more, ask for his body against yours again, but you fall sleep and when you wake up, sweating, scared and screaming, he’s not there.

8518 Rayburn Rd, Bethesda, MD 20817. Half an hour after the target’s death.

You have clean everything up. Somebody will ask for him, his neighbors, maybe his family or friends, probably his boss. They will think that he must have mixed two of his medicaments, the one his doctor specifically had advice to keep apart because it could be dangerous to mix together but since it was his wife who organized everything and now she’s gone; they will find that he had effectively mixed the two inside the cupboards. The house is a mess, his mind was too so nobody will be surprised he committed a silly fatal error. His dirty laundry will stay there until they empty the house and throw away his things, those permanent things will disappear from earth as he had. And nobody will know the truth.

You carefully take out your gloves and the needle with the small glass bottle inside a zipper plastic bag and you get out of the house. A dark big truck waits for you and you get on the passenger’s seat.

“So, how did it go?” he asks

“Fine. it’s done” you take out your wig and the net that keeps your hair carefully tucked inside to prevent you from leaving DNA

Dave looks at you for a moment and reaches for your head massaging the scalp and you press your lips together so a moan doesn’t escape from it though his fingers untangling an relieving the pressure from the wig is the most intimate and delicious thing you’ve felt. Well, since the day he had showered you because you were exhausted.

He’s nicely dressed in a grey suit and a red tie, from the rearview mirror you see his wool coat and black leather briefcase. Where is going? where was he ? It’s been six month since he started your training and still you have no clue of who he really is.

You snap back to reality once you feel his hand on your chin

“Are you sure?” he asks. His brown eyes penetrate you and you wish that that bridge he builds between you two would be a two way street. That one day you will know every little corner of him as he knows about yourself and your mind. But for the moment you’re lost in his presence, blindfolded and wishing he could show you more but scare of what you might find.

“He’s dead, I watched him die and checked him minutes after like you taught me” you respond lowering your head. You don’t want to show him how you were on the break of tears, how you had second thoughts and how you pitied the poor man.

“I’m not asking about him, I’m asking about you” he lifts your face up

“I’m okay” you mutter and cough to gain a little bit more of strength in your voice “I’m fine”

“Then congratulations” he smiles and you look at him confused “It’s your first job alone and you did well” he explains “Open the glove box” he starts the car while you wait confused by the whole thing “Open it, c’mon, there’s a gift for you” he smirks

You do and there’s a white laminated badge. You recognize Dave’s face and you see for the first time his full name: David York, CIA.

You turn your head to him, a cold stream of sweat runs through your nape.

“I know you’ve worried about the police, how they will find you; and you’ve been loyal, obedient and efficient. As I told you, you will learn to trust me as the team and I will trust you back” he looks at the road while he speaks and you cannot take out your eyes from the badge

“Am I...am I working for the CIA?” you ask

“God, no!” he laughs, a deep husky chuckle “What I mean, it’s that we’re safe. I can contain things when we need to. So you can relax”

Relax? If anything you’re way more scared of him now you know this. He must me lying; he can falsify one of those...right? Or is he being honest?

“And that’s my gift?” you say closing the small door. You cannot lay your eyes anymore on that thing

“No, there’s more”

He parks at your neighborhood, the same he took you to six month ago. It’s not fully decorated yet but you’re proud of what you’re doing with it and it reminds you of the houses that you used to see in those style magazines: open concept, simple colors and practical furniture. On the tea table at the center of the leaving room there’s a blue box with a ribbon. Dave points to it “That’s for you”

You open it and gasp: There’s a small cactus, your book but it hasn’t its usual yellowish pages and the covers are not wrinkled, and that old picture, the only happy memory of your childhood is now framed in a nice silver frame. The things you left months ago in Tom’s house.

“You kept my things...all this time?”

“I couldn’t take them when Resnik went to make sure there was nothing to tie him to us, but he gave me a list of your belongings and I thought it will be nice if you keep something from your old life”

“How did you find that picture, the only person that has another copy is...” you open your eyes widely “You haven’t...”

“He’s alive; I just took what I wanted to know about you and that picture”

“Thank you” you hold the frame to your chest holding back tears

“You’re welcome”

He nods and turns away to leave

“Dave?”

“Hm?”

“What did he do?”

“What did I tell you?”

“It’s not personal”

and he nods but he gazes at you and how your hands hold the frame tightly and you’re starting to breathe deeply

“Would it help if you knew that he was a horrible human being?”

“Well...” you bite your lip

“It won’t, I assure you” he walks slowly towards you until he’s so close and you wish it wouldn’t be so easy, that you wouldn’t be tamed as a small pet just with his presence close to you and his scent clouding your judgment.

“That’s what you do for the CIA?”

“Don’t be eager. You and I will eventually know each other really well” he grins and takes the frame from your hands “You were a very beautiful baby” he smiles at the picture

“Thanks”

“What are you dress up as?” He gives you one of those warm smiles and you feel the hunger to just jump to his lips and kiss him. My smile, that warmth, that small spark of kindness is mine.

“A fairy...a princess, something like that”

“Very pretty” he carefully puts the frame at the center of the table

“That girl would be very surprised to know that now she kills people”

“She will, and have to be, very proud to be a survivor” there’s something in his eyes, an anger but not towards you, something that hurts him and you wish to know, that he’d be as naked and transparent as you are for him.

“I don’t feel very proud today” you keep your eyes fixed on that baby almost lost on the pink tulle, smiling with almost no teeth to the woman holding her on her lap. Tears gather on the corner of your eyes

“You will learn to let it go, I promise” his hand hold you and you feel that you’ve landed back on earth after many memories have awaken the storm inside your heart.

How can he calm you, scare you, make you feel safe and weak at the same time?

“So I didn’t graduate today?” you shake your head and he smiles

“Not yet. You’re closer to be what I wanted and needed, but not yet there, sweetheart”

“What else is there to be taught?” you’ve training not stop for the past six months.

“So much” his thumb traces your jaw line

“Until I’m what you want and need” you repeat his words

“Exactly, do you still want to?”

You give a last look at the past, at your past self, that happy innocent baby that would never thought she will be so lost in the future, so desperate and alone until she found this man that had give her this twisted life, full of shadows and dark thoughts, lies and death and that you’re dying to be even more tangled with him that you already are.

“I’m yours, Dave”

(Since you were interested in a continuation for the first chapter, here you go. Thank you for you nice feedback on the first one and I hope you like it and sorry for taking so long to get a second part : @ericasabe @1andthesame)

#writer wednesday #Dave York #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york pit #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #Pedro Pascal characters fanfic

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na-yiii · 3 years

Text

KING || Min Yoongi x OC

Pairings: King! Min Yoongi x Queen! Named Female OC || King! Jung Hoseok X Queen! Named Female OC

Summary: Rin is nervous yet excited to spend her first night as queen with her husband, King Jung Hoseok. Unfortunately an uninvited guest had to interrupt what was supposed to be a romantic night.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Non Con. Oral (female receiving). Smut. Losing Virginity. Forced Pregnancy. Arranged Marriage. Murder. Blood.

A/N: Hey everyone it has been such a long time since I have posted a story. My apologies for that. Work and uni has been taking up so much time T_T I hope you enjoy this short story. Let me know what you think of it.

“Are you excited?” a maid named Eunah asked as she carefully removed a golden hair pin from the former princess’ head. “I am not sure if excited is the correct term to describe my current state,” Rin said as she stared at her reflection. Her tight bun slowly got looser as Eunah removed the bejeweled hairpins one by one. In matter of minutes her dark hair got untangled and touched her shoulders. The make-up started to show some cracks around her mouth and on her forehead while her lips become drier as time went by. “I have heard that king Jung Hoseok is a wonderful man, I am confident he will take a good care of you,” Eunah said in an attempt to calm the newlywed. “But I don’t even know him,” Rin said as her eyes lowered and stared at her wedding ring that connected her to the king. Eunah was not sure how to respond. She knew Rin was right. She indeed barely knew the man. It has been only 18 hours since the two have met and exchanged their vows in front of the nation.

“Does it hurt?” Rin suddenly asked and watched how Eunah removed the dried-up makeup with a wet cloth. “I heard from the senior staff that the first time always hurts,” Eunah replied as she dipped the filthy cloth in the cold water to rinse the dried makeup. “What if I don’t bleed?” Rin whispered as she become more anxious by the thought of not bleeding during the first time. Will Hoseok be disappointed? What if she fails to bear him a heir? Will that ruin her marriage with the king?

“Your majesty please do not cloud your mind with those kinds of thoughts. King Hoseok is an understanding man,” Eunah reassured the queen and smiled at her. “You are done, my queen. I will leave the room so that you can change,” Eunah announced as she grabbed a bowl and exited the room. Once the maid had left, Rin took a deep breath and stood up from the velvet chair. She made her way to the bed and stared at the long white lacy dress that was in front of her. The dress was beautiful. Not wanting to upset her husband, Rin quickly undressed herself and put on the night gown.

The halls of the castle were dark. The only source of light came from the candles that were lit. Ever since the sun disappeared the temperature dropped significantly. Rin wrapped her arms around her body in hopes not to freeze by the time she is with her husband. Suddenly Eunah halted her movements and looked over her shoulder. “Here’s the room, queen Rin,” Eunah announced and looked at the large white door. “Thank you, Eunah,” Rin replied as she stood there and stared at the door. Here it is, the moment Rin has been preparing from the moment she was born. Rin was excited, there was no denying in that. Getting married to a king and carrying his child had been Rin’s dream as long as she can remember. Since today she would not longer belong to her parents. She will no longer be known by her name. The only title she will carry will be the mother of Hoseok’s scion.

“Your majesty, are you alright?” Eunah asked worried as she watched how the queen slowly drowned in her thoughts. Rin blinked a few times before she looked at the maid and nodded. Just when Rin wanted to open the door, Eunah quickly grabbed her wrist and looked at the queen. “Your majesty keep in mind even if it hurts don’t tell him to stop,” the maid admonished Rin as she looked deep into the queen’s eyes. The woman dressed white was not sure how to react so she nodded yet again.

King Hoseok’s bedroom was warm toned. Different shades of red brought to room to life while accents of gold gave the room more definition. Gingerly the woman walked around the room as she studied every detail. The room felt quite alive despite the absence of the king. As Rin walked deeper into the room, her anxiety grew. “King Jung,” she called when she saw the silhouette of the king. He was standing on the balcony looking at the moon. It took Rin two more attempts to finally catch her husband’s attention. King Hoseok looked over his shoulder and looked at his first wife. She was breathtakingly beautiful. With her hair down and her face stripped off all the makeup she looked stunning. The white lacy dress made her look so innocent. Hoseok licked his lower lip as he looked through the lace and stared at her breasts.

“Please just call me Hoseok, we don’t have to use formal language as a married couple,” Hoseok said while he reached his hand out to her. Rin smiled and took his hand as she moved closer to him. Hoseok wrapped his arms around her waist and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. “You smell wonderful,” he complimented her before sniffing her scent once again. A tint of pink appeared on Rin’s cheeks. “Thank you Kin- Hoseok,” she said and placed her hand on his chest. The married couple stood there what felt like forever to Rin.

“Do…Do you want to begin?” Hoseok asked as he looked at Rin, who nervously nodded. Hoseok grabbed her hand and brought her inside. Once the balcony door was closed behind him the atmosphere changed. The tension was undeniable. “How do-” Hoseok interrupted her by scurring to his wife and kissing her deeply. The kiss was rather sloppy. It revealed how much Hoseok was craving her. Without any warning or permission, he pushed his tongue into her mouth and explored it. His right hand wrapped around her neck while his other hand disappeared under her dress. His hand was so warm that she almost melted in his hand.

It did not take long before Hoseok began to mark her neck while his hands untied her night gown and started to remove every layer of clothing. “Do you want my baby?” Hoseok asked while panting. His excitement was something he could not hide, even if he tried. He waited all his life for this moment. The moment he saw her talking to his former friend, he knew he had to have her.

Gently Hoseok pushed his wife on the bed and stared at her naked body. It was just perfection. Everything about her was paradisiacal. The tightness of his pants became uncomfortable the longer he stared at her body. Hastily he got rid of his clothes and climbed on top of her. Feeling her naked skin on his made him almost cum. Carefully Rin lifted her hand and touched his naked body. Her skin was soft while her touch was indescribable. “Hoseok,” Rin whispered as her husband’s face disappeared in her neck to continue leaving marks. “Mmm?” Hoseok said. He was too concentrated to find her sensitive spot. A spot that would make her moan. “I have heard that the first time will be painful,” Rin shared her concern with her husband. Hoseok immediately halted his action and looked at her. He felt sympathetic for her. Unlike Hoseok, Rin was heavily shielded away from the world by her parents. She was not allowed to leave the castle. She was even prohibited from being around the opposite sex. Hoseok was very aware of this fact, so he naturally understood her concerns.

“How about I blindfold you? This way you don’t have to see it happen. Maybe that will calm you down,” Hoseok suggested as he gently caressed her lower back. His touch was light and tender, it was like a gentle breeze on a hot summer day. “Okay,” Rin agreed and watched how Hoseok grabbed a satin scarf, which was wrapped around his neck when the two were standing at the alter earlier today. Rin closed her eyes and let her husband blindfold her with the soft material. “Is it not too tight?” Hoseok asked once he tied a knot with the two ends. “No, it’s fine,” Rin answered. “I will be gentle,” her husband promised her before he began to plant kisses on her body.

Hoseok took his time. Making sure his wife was comfortable was his priority. He did not want to hurt or scare her. Slowly yet gently he studied her body. He took a mental note of her sensitive spots as he lowered himself. “Are you alright?” Hoseok asked right before he planted a kiss on her clit. A soft moan escaped from Rin’s mouth. She did not understand the feeling but oddly she liked it. “Don’t stop” she said hoping he would continue with his action. “Alright, my wife,” he chuckled and continued pleasuring his wife.

Rin’s body was relaxed while her mind was in cloud nine. The things Hoseok made her feel felt great. She was hooked to the feeling. She wanted more and more. “Are you ready?” Hoseok asked and looked at her. Seeing his wife blindfolded and vulnerable made him almost lose his mind. “Yeah,” Rin said timidly as she suppressed her nervousness. “Don’t worry, it will be an indelible evening,” he said before he leaned down and planted lovingly a kiss on her soft lips.

Suddenly Hoseok’s warm touch disappeared just as his breathing. The silence in the room terrified the queen. She was not sure if this was part of the love making. The only sound that could be heard by Rin was the beating of her own heart. “Hoseok?” she said softly. Patiently she waited for a reaction from her husband but was only met with silence.

Out of the blue she felt something warm landing on her naked body. It was wet and felt somewhat thick. The liquid had an odd smell to it. She was not sure how to describe it. The way how the liquid felt on her made her skin crawl. Something did not feel right. Just when Rin opened her mouth to say her husband’s name, she felt a sharp pain between her legs. The pain was so powerful that it made her uncomfortable. A pair of cold hands grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to them. The pair of cold hands gently pushed her legs wider before the they placed themselves comfortably between her legs and began to thrust.

The pace was slow yet powerful. With every thrust her body moved away from the person, only to get pulled back. “Hoseok…It hurts…” Rin whimpered as she placed her hands on his chest and tried to push him away. He did not listen he kept on going. His pace went from slow to fast while his grip on her hips became tighter to the point she could feel his nails bore into her skin. “Hoseok!” Rin yelled hoping it would make him halt but it did not bring any change in the situation. Hoseok’s thrusts became so powerful that the bed started to creak and the bed post began to hit the wall.

The silence in the room disappeared when Rin heard someone panting and groaning. Occasionally a curse word could be heard. Suddenly the queen felt something warm being shot inside of her. Hoseok’s thrusts slowed down as it became sloppier. Slowly the man stopped trusting and began to catch his breath. He yet had to pull himself out of her. Rin’s patience wore thin to the point she grabbed the satin scarf and removed it. The brightness in the room blinded her for a few seconds. Once she had her sight back, her eyes met with the eyes of a man who was not her husband.

The unknown man had long blond hair. The top half of hair was tied together while the bottom half was loose. A black headband partially covered his forehead. Golden earrings dangled from his ears while golden necklaces decorated his neck. A vertical scar was visible on his face. The smirk on his face was twisted while his eyes reflect the evil he had in him. There was something familiar about him. Has she met him before?

When Rin realized that the mysterious man was still inside of her, she tried to push him away. The blond man quickly grabbed her legs and pinned them down. “It is not kind to kick someone, your majesty,” the man said as he dug his nails into her skin, causing it to bleed. “Who are you? How did you get in?” Rin asked panickily. “You would think that the security of the new king and queen would be top-notch, but you will be surprised how many flaws it has,” the man revealed after he finally pulled himself out of her. Quickly Rin closed her legs and moved away from the mysterious man. “You can call me King Yoongi, honey,” the man said as a twisted smile appeared on his face.

“Wha-…?” Rin asked confused. Suddenly she felt something dripping on her side. The queen looked down and was shocked when she discovered that the liquid she felt earlier was blood. It was still fresh. From her peripheral vision, Rin saw a black shadow laying next to her. Slowly she turned her head to the right. The view of the bloodied body of her husband made her nauseous. Her eyes became watery while her breathing shortened. “You monster!” Rin yelled. Unexpectedly she lifted her right leg and kicked Yoongi in the face. Quickly she jumped out of the bed. Trying to get out of the room as fast as possible but just when she was about to grab the door handle, she felt the familiar cold hands grab her. Fear was written all over her face as she got trapped between the wooden door and Yoongi’s body.

“You and I will rule this nation so well,” Yoongi said as he lowered his hand to caress her belly. Rin’s body froze when she finally realized that her biggest dream turned into her worst nightmare. Tears escaped from her eyes and fell down her cheeks. Her knees could not support her anymore causing her to fall. Yoongi quickly caught her and wrapped his arms around her. “Did your family really think that getting you married to another king would make me give up?” Yoongi asked rhetorically.

Rin cried as she stared dolefully at the lifeless body of Hoseok.

#min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bangtan #bts #yoongi smut #yandere writing #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #jhope #jung hoseok #hoseok #named oc #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts writing #bts yandere #yandere bts

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sooibian · 3 years

Text

Wherever You Are

Pairing: Kai x You as Lys ft. Baekhyun, Minseok, Yixing

Description: When you least expect it, love, quite literally, sweeps you off your feet

Themes: Romani AU, magical realism, romance, angst, drama ™ (i grew up on a healthy dose of Bollywood and it! shows!), secret relationship, heavily influenced by Mmmh Kai

Warnings: Blood, weapons, violence

Word Count: +9.5k (i’m sorry i haven’t had the time to proof-read this at all)

Tagging: @changshapatrol @rosetvler @bbyunz @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt @royal-aeris @bbhmystar @his-mochi-cheeks @littleflowercrown13

Part of the Steampunk Romani AU collab with @leewalberg @vampwrrr @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme

Pre-reading notes:

1. This is a spin-off for Lys from Star-Crossed but it can be read as a standalone oneshot. I’ve tried my best to translate the events of that fic into Lys’ POV but feel free to shoot me a message if something still confuses you.

2. Lys is a mind-reader, Baekhyun has the ability to influence physical objects with his mind, Yixing is a dragon and he’s the leader of the clan (Bulibasha), and Kai - as we all know - can teleport!!

3. Glossary: bulibasha - clan leader, dado - father, dya - mother, gadjo - someone of non-romani descent / origin, dragă - darling, iubirea mea - my love, lautari - a group of romani musicians, zakono - a key institution for enforcing the Romani Code.

“Dado, can I go along with Minseok?”

“Where to, dragă?”

“To the horse fair....the one in the village?”

“That’s no place for a pretty princess such as yourself -”

“But..but.. dado!”

“The camp has everything you’ll ever need, dragă.”

You woke up to the same old chirping of crickets, the same old crimson, black, and gold panels draping your tent, the same old wine stained goblet on your nightstand, the same old aroma of steamed xaimoko and hearty cornbread, and... the same old stinging in your heart.

Lips stretched into a habitual wide grin, you greeted the lass who brought you dinner with a drawn out “Morning”.

“It’s seven in the evening, Lys. You know how your father feels about you sleeping during sunset!” Vera exclaimed and gathered her skirts to sit on the edge of your bed, her gentle fingers combing through to untangle knots in her mistress’ long, dark hair.

Having mastered the art of repressing the emotions that threatened to colour your expression at the mere mention of your father, feigning excitement, you took her hand in yours and coyly quizzed her on the topic she was dying to discuss, “Tell me more about the whitesmith boy, Vera? Did he prove to be,” you cleared your throat and said in a hushed whisper, “worth his mettle?” and drew the question out with a roaring laughter.

“Hush, Lys!” Said Vera bashfully, biting on her lower lip to suppress the smile that was beginning to form on her mellow, innocent face. The whitesmith boy, better known as Kris, was the clan’s most eligible bachelor until yesterday.

Young girls, in pairs or trios, would hide behind the shrubbery by the river to catch a glimpse of him shirtless, bring him bent out of shape wares to fix and polish - even the ones whose weights their delicate hands couldn’t bear - and watch him at his job for hours at an end as sweat would drip down his neck, making his light, cotton shirt cling onto his well defined back.

As any young man his age would, Kris surely enjoyed the attention but he didn’t thrive on it. His heart belonged solely to his beloved. He settled for the most simple woman, some would say for the want of a better word, but you were convinced that none of them had experienced the sweetness that was love.

You had - but only vicariously. Love, trust, anticipation, joy - all vicariously. The only emotions you truly understood, first-hand, were longing, anger, and sadness.

“Lys?” A finger poking into your side broke you out of your reverie.

“Hmm?”

“I said, yes.”

“What for?” You asked, an innocent eyebrow raised in question.

She only giggled in response and darted out of your tent. Grinning wide, you turned to your meal and just then the aggressive tramp of horses’ hooves and sharp, piercing cries of pain and fear from men, women, and children reached your ears. Before you could make sense of the situation, your shell-shocked eyes followed Vera’s body as it fell inside your tent with a dull thud, an arrow pierced through her chest.

Your dinner tray toppled over as you ran to her aid and struggled with the bitter truth that you could do nothing to breathe life into the one person out of the very few that truly cared for you. With your hand on her teared stained cheek, you listened to her conscience ferociously chant, dya...dya...take care of dya!

“I will, Vera. I promise to take care of your mother.”

Only when she was reassured did Vera allow life to drain out of her eyes while tears started to line yours and grief clawed at your throat. You began to drag her limp body towards the bed and it wasn’t long before a familiar face barged into your tent. Throwing his crossbow to the side, your brother helped you hoist Vera’s body up onto your bed.

“What’s going on -”

“We’ve been attacked by a group of dacoits. Stay inside. Whatever happens, do not leave your tent! You understand me?” Minseok commanded, his dark eyes piercing yours while blood trickled down the side of his face.

“You’re hurt -”

He shook his head and repeated, panic betraying his voice, “Just... stay safe, Lys. Will you?”

Breaking down into sobs you nodded frantically as the ugly realisation of loss washed over you. Minseok pulled you into a tight embrace, praying fervently, “It could’ve been you. It could’ve been you instead of - of Vera! Thank God! Thank God, it wasn’t you!”

His every word felt like a punch in the gut.

He then marched out with his crossbow in hand, vengeance in his eyes and your heart clenched with fear for your brother’s life. Hiding behind the entrance panels, you watched the scene outside.

The settlement was barren except for the dacoits and a handful of men from the clan out on the field; the rest had scurried into the safe confines of their caravans and tents. Men on horseback, dressed in black robes, had their faces covered in black scarves. They spoke a different tongue but you understood that they sought revenge. A life for a life, they repeated over and over in broken Romani. They menacingly circled Baekhyun with arrows and daggers pointed to his heart. Baekhyun’s stance was alert with his jamdhar in his hand as a majestic black and gold dragon hovered over them, a tattered body dangling from his spine chilling, bloody mouth.

It happened within a matter of seconds - the dacoits lay slain - some with arrows pierced through their chests, some eviscerated into smithereens and the rest crumbled to black dust - the doing of Minseok, Baekhyun, and Yixing respectively.

With one flap of his massive wings, Yixing descended, gracefully landing on his human feet as a man-servant trotted to his aid with a black robe to cover his modesty yet, very little was left to imagination.

“They really thought -”

Before Yixing could complete his sentence, an unconscious Baekhyun collapsed - right in the centre of the bloody chaos. That jamdhar is going to be his undoing, you said to yourself. A girl with dark unruly hair rushed to his side - your fiancé’s side - the sight turning your limbs to ice.

Your heart sank to your stomach but the edges of your mouth curled up in a smile as you met her eyes from a distance with sheer contempt in your own.

A man you didn't recognise, supported by two others on either side, was being ushered into Yixing's private chamber.

You felt a hand against the small of your back. Minseok whispered into your ear, "Dado wants to see you."

***

In the centre of the room slouched a man on a wooden chair, his hands roped together at the back, face bruised and bloodied - evidently the doing of your own brother.

“What’s all this?” You asked the three men surrounding him.

“The bandits left their dog behind,” spat Yixing.

“So? What am I supposed to do?” You directed the question to your father.

“We need to know who he is, where he’s from, and...why we were attacked.” Replied your father, eyes forcefully trained on the unconscious man on the chair.

“You should’ve probably left him with some life in his body to answer your questions.” You said to Minseok indignantly.

“Lys!” Your father was prepared to reprimand you at your insolence in front of Bulibasha.

“Dado - ”

“Lys, just hold his hand and tell us what he’s thinking.” Minseok tried to lighten the tense atmosphere with his calm voice.

“I have better things to do than hold a gadjo’s hand and listen to the filth of his mind. I’ll leave you big and strong men to it.” You sauntered over to your father, the corner of your mouth raised in a smirk. Dusting the lint off of his magnificent black and red woollen cloak that was embroidered along the edges with the finest gold thread, you sang, “I’m nothing more than just a pretty princess, anway.”

“Lys, please!” Cried Minseok.

“What would you have me do, Minseok? Stay here with you all while my fiancé is canoodling with the Bladerunner by the pond?” You retorted.

Yixing shot you a puzzled glance while Minseok and your father averted their eyes.

"It’s known to be their usual hideout.” You half-shrugged at Yixing, your casual tone not doing much to ease the frown lines on his handsome face.

While you were busy squabbling with your family, the man on the chair lifted his head up, rope evidently cut loose with a push dagger, and immediately all four pairs of eyes turned to him. Underneath the caked blood and grime on his face, he flaunted golden skin, luscious lips, and sharp, distinct features. His eyes met yours and crinkled into crescents as his lips curved into a disrespectful smirk.

He gave you a casual two-finger salute goodbye and….vanished.

Breaking into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at the three men caught unawares, you turned on your heels and merrily skipped out of Yixing’s private chamber.

The next morning found you by the river, still trying to wrap your head around the events of yesterday. ‘Thank God it wasn’t you!’ Your brother’s gentle voice rang ominously in your ears. ‘But what if it was?’ you reasoned with yourself, ‘Would it have meant being finally free or trapped in a permanent state of oblivion?’ In tune with your mind, your feet wandered, taking you deeper into the viridian forest.

You stumbled upon something stock-still and landed on your back causing that something to stir and wince in pain as it slowly regained consciousness. You crawled as far away from it as you could only to recognize him by the pleated black cummerband around his waist. The gadjo struggled to hold himself up and flattened to the ground again.

His agony brought you some solace as Vera’s ashen face flashed before your eyes. Laughing, you exclaimed, "So this is how far you managed to get! A stone's throw from Bulibasha's tent."

The man winced again but a smile began to form on his lips. "Wa-water," he breathed but you leisurely rested your back against the trunk of a nearby tree and denied his request with a little shake of your head, “A life for a life, gadjo. Repay your debt. Your people killed my friend.”

“Not- not my doing,” he said throatily and began dragging himself towards the river. He was sculpted like the dancers of a lăutari - long and lean, elegantly broader along the shoulders and chest and enviably slim around the waist.

You offered him no help. Instead, waited with a bated breath for his soul to escape him. But his snail’s pace had started to exasperate you. So you begrudgingly volunteered to bring him water as his dying wish.

“Here you go, gadjo. Seeing the way my brother beat you up, a sip or two of water won’t be of much help, anyway.” You sneered, holding the edge of the cupped leaf to his bruised lips.

As he drank, colour slowly returned to his ghost-white, bloodied face. “Kai,” he said in a voice that was husky and deep.

“What?”

“It’s my name. You’d do well to remember it.” His face lit up with a smile and his eyes found your thick golden anklet bejeweled with iridescent beads. He flicked the bead trinkets with his finger and squeezed his eyes shut as if in admiration of a great symphony.

Before you could even make sense of the situation...of him...he vanished again.

Kai, you mouthed, curled up in bed at midnight.

“Kai,” you said the gadjo’s name out loud, the tips of your fingers tracing the movement of your lips and despite yourself, blood began to warm your face. It had been a week since you met him in the forest but the man had capsized your mind. You inwardly admonished yourself for not killing him when you had the chance - it was the least you could’ve done for Vera - but you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him.

You saw truth in his innocent yet compelling eyes.

A whirlpool of emotions rose in your chest as you tossed and turned in bed causing a bead of your anklet to tangle with a loose silk thread from your quilt. Groaning, you sat up to undo it, and heard a sudden, loud crack.

Kai had unexpectedly appeared, standing at the foot of your bed. Arms crossed over his chest and head tilted to the side, he smiled down at you.

Returning his smile, you said, “If I scream, there’ll be at least ten men here, in no time, with sharp objects pointed at your throat.”

Gaze intertwined with yours, Kai knelt before you as his deft fingers found the troublesome bead. Smirking, he slowly pushed the quilt out of the way, and you instinctively pulled your skirts down below your knees. His mouth found the loose thread and he bit on it to free you from the restraint as his warm breath fanned your ankle and his soft lips brushed ever so slightly against your skin. As delicate as the touch was, it felt like being imprinted with a blazing hot cast-iron.

“If you truly wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have saved my life. And I’m here to thank you for that,” he smiled, and took the bold step of sitting next to you, on your bed. He then clicked his tongue, fingers ghosting along the curve of your ankle, and piped cockily, “Besides, you know I’d vanish before your sluggish men even manage to get here.”

“You think you’re very brave, gadjo?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just a fool for walking into the lioness’ den.”

His expression suddenly turned solemn. Studying your face intently, he whispered, “I’m sorry about your friend. I didn’t -”

“You didn’t what?” Your heart thumped wildly in your chest in a rather desperate anticipation of his innocence. So you immediately placed your clammy hand upon his trembling, cold one.

His voice grew thick with anguish as he explained, “I didn’t know those men were going to storm your clan. I’d only met them that morning. They said they were traveling south and I - I really had nowhere to go so I joined them without giving it much thought. I was desperate for company.”

His words were very much in line with his thoughts and memories. Images of the dacoits just as you’d seen them that evening, their boisterous banter, their journey towards the settlement, the food and wine and spoils they shared along the way, all flashed before your eyes.

You knew a liar when you saw one - their features were drawn out a bit differently, you’d believed. Baekhyun was a liar. He’d lied when you had asked him if he loved you. But Kai on the other hand…

“At the time you didn’t realize that they were plunderers?” You asked delicately.

“All I understood was that they weren’t men of strong character. But I didn’t care for their morality. I knew I could protect myself if worse came to worst.”

“Why didn’t you simply run...vanish when they besieged my clan?” As hard as you tried, you failed to keep the edge off of your voice.

The pitch of Kai’s voice rose as he continued to explain, “I grew numb...my hands and legs and...mind...I’ve seen war and suffering and I didn’t expect to cross paths with tragedy again so soon. So I - nobody noticed this at the time because of the chaos - but I fought on your side. I tried to save as many as I could.”

You contemplated on his words for a moment without realizing that his fingers were now laced with yours.

“- when my brother found you, you just -”

“I thought I - ,” his voice dropped and lower lip quivered slightly, “ - deserved the punishment.”

Fighting back your tears, you asked, “Why didn’t you explain this to them?”

“Did you see the look on your brother’s face? And the dragon’s? He was breathing fire even in his human form. They were ready to bring me to justice for the crimes I didn’t commit.”

You gave Kai a quick once-over. His face still bore bruises from the beating but his clothes were impeccable. Rich, even. He was dressed in a blue cashmere smock, red velvet pants, and his fingernails were coated in a deep teal. He wore a beaded bracelet on his right wrist that sparkled in the dim lighting of your tent - as did the platinum ring laced with exquisite tiny diamonds on his right hand index finger.

Had the dacoits looted him, they would’ve comfortably lived on the gains from the ring alone for a good part of the year. What was the need for them to tread such a great distance to loot your clan, you wondered.

Yet again, you grew wary of the man before you.

“Why are you telling me all this?” You asked.

“Because I don’t want you to resent me for the death of your friend.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you asked defensively, “Why do you care what I think, gadjo?”

“Kai,” he corrected you and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, he disappeared again.

The scattered morning light filtered through the thicket and descended in brilliant pearls in the unshackled stream of water amidst the medley of the trinkets on your anklet, the ballads of songbirds, and gushing water hitting rubbled mass as you tiptoed deeper into the forest.

A firm grasp balanced you by your arm as you hopped over rocks to cross the stream.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re tailing me, gadjo.” You teased him.

“Here,” he thrust some peeled almonds in your hand as soon as you got to the other side. Smiling, he said, “eat up. These extraordinary tiny things will help with your poor memory.”

He walked ahead of you, guiding, as you both slipped further into the capricious forest.

“You leave only to come crawling back so soon, Kai?” Although you uttered his name almost derisively, you felt heat rising up your cheeks as it fell from your lips.

“You see? The almonds help.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You merely scoffed in response.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” He asked, retaining a casual tone.

Letting out a deep sigh, you bombarded him with your well thought out mental list of questions in response. The questions that had plagued your mind since your very first encounter with him.

“Where are you from, gadjo? Don’t you have a home? A... girl waiting for you?” You deliberately held on to his arm on the pretext of steadying yourself ...and his mind drew a blank.

I can’t remember anything before you.

You were about to say something more but then stopped short, retreating until your back hit the trunk of a tree. He followed and halted only at a hair breadth’s distance from you, towering over, as sunlight danced on his skin.

He breathed, “You tell me. Do I?”

“Hmm?” Brows quirked, you stared right back into his eyes as his head continued to lower slowly and you, despite yourself, started going up on the tip of your toes, his hand around your waist holding you steady.

“Do I have a girl,” he whispered, his index finger lifting your chin up, his warm breath tickling your face and his lips ghosting over yours, “waiting for me?”

Your eyelids drooped almost instinctively as the back of his fingers gently caressed the side of your face.

“Kai -”

He chuckled, swiftly scooping you up in his arms. You felt your whole body squint and your ears popped rather painfully. It wasn’t long before Kai’s feet found firm ground in a meadow full of beautiful plume thistles while you stayed burying your face in the crook of his neck, eyes firmly squeezed shut.

He gently put you down but your legs gave out. Feeling squeamish, you berated him, “Warn me the next time, yes?”

He pulled you in a tight embrace, panic betraying his voice, he asked, “Are- are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize!”

“How do you survive this at all? It’s- it feels terrible! I feel horribly queasy and my spine is trying to claw its way out of my back!” You argued aimlessly.

“One gets used to it.” He said softly as you lay on your back and he lied down next to you.

“Where are we?”

“We’re very close to Cluj-Napoca. Prince Jongin’s would-have-been kingdom.” His vague and casual tone was starting to vex you a little.

“Prince Jongin?” You enquired rather haughtily.

He answered, “Yours truly,” and bent his neck down in a bow.

“You - you’re a prince?”

He turned to face you and you excitedly followed suit. Tracing your jawline with his finger he whispered, “Not anymore. I mean - forget it, it’s a long story.” He sighed and turned his face to the clear blue skies again.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you urged him to continue, “I have all the time in the world.”

He took a moment to contemplate on your words and then his own before indulging you with a wistful smile on his face, “I turned out to be someone..something nobody expected out of me. More capable than the rightful heir, more popular with the people, more popular within the court, and more popular with the King himself.”

“Hmm...I’ll need a little more than that.”

Kai chuckled, his eyes crinkling into half moons again. “Three months ago, Cluj-Napoca was attacked by the Kingdom of Bucharest. My father - the King - was recovering from an affliction of the nerves at the time. Although I am not much of a fighter myself...well, I wasn’t trained to be one but what I lack in strength, I make up for in agility.. I led the army into battle and we managed to protect our territorial integrity and independence.”

Kai had been continuously fidgeting with the lace on his black tunic while narrating the story of his bravado, leaving you utterly astonished at the duplexity of his personality.

“So what went wrong?” You asked, studying him closely.

“The thing is I am not the King’s legitimate son,” he laughed and continued the story in a slightly higher pitch as if imitating someone, “I was born out of love, says my mother. I’m the son of a concubine.”

“But, if after everything, the King was in your favour then why did you leave?”

“He was toying with the idea of making my half-brother renounce his title. So before matters could get any worse for her son, the Queen asked me to ‘disappear into the night’ as compensation for not driving me to the streets when I was a mere boy.”

Aghast, you enquired, “So you just left?”

He simply shrugged and replied, “I am not built for a life of frivolity and merely keeping up appearances.”

“But what of your mother?”

“She’s not built for a life otherwise than of frivolity and keeping up appearances. Besides, she’s been offered an elevated position within the court by the Queen after my disappearance and she intends on keeping it. And as for my father...well, he thinks I’m a traitor who abandoned his own people. That’s why on the day that your clan was raided...I couldn’t think straight. The war with Bucharest has clearly taken a heavy toll on me...suffering of others is far beyond the level of my tolerance.”

“But what about your subjects? Tell me, how are you so casual about this?”

“You’re the daughter of the richest man in the clan. Why do you want to leave?”

“It’s not the same. Also, how do you know what I want? And- and don’t answer a question with a question. It’s annoying.”

He huddled closer to you and bragged, “It’s all in your eyes.”

“Enough, gadjo, this is not about me.” Your face flamed and your stomach was in knots in anticipation of his answer.

He let out a heavy sigh and replied, “Life is an adventure that is best lived boldly. I can go wherever I want, whenever I like. Why should someone like me bear the stifling burden of a crown when I can be...free.”

True to his character, Kai yet again appeared out of nowhere, took the heavy jute tote out of your hand and asked, “Don’t you have a handmaiden for these things?”

He was dressed entirely in black - dress shirt tucked into fitted trousers - and his face was covered with a sequined veil mask, leaving only his alluring eyes exposed. To say that you were not used to his abrupt appearances would be a gross understatement.

“I’m picking up some specific things for Vera’s mother...also, we’re in the middle of a bazaar, gadjo! You’re growing bolder by the day.”

“Lys, did you forget to take your almonds this morning?”

You scorned, “Do you have a death wish? If my brother sees you here... or the dragon... or..”

“Your precious fiancé?” He teased. “The one who’s..what was it again? Yes, the one who’s busy canoodling with the Bladerunner by the pond?”

Suppressing a grin, you gave him the side-eye and asked, “So you’re different, then? Better than Baekhyun?”

“Vastly! Tremendously! Immensely! Extremely!”

Shaking your head, you shot him an offhanded remark, “I don’t believe you.”

He immediately grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you inside what seemed like a dingy storage room for grains and pulses. Setting the bag down on the floor, he looked you in the eyes and roughly placed your hand on his chest.

”Don’t you think I’m different? Don’t you believe that I’m better? Don’t you understand I can make you happy? Truly happy?” He asked, his heart pulsing against your fingertips.

The overwhelming words you want to say...talk to me comfortably...I’ll listen to you...loosen the boundaries...I’m like you, too.

Eyes glistening, he pleaded, “Fly away with me.”

“No.” You stated plainly while your head and heart hammered wildly at the words he so bravely uttered and the ones he didn’t.

Brows knit together, his face scrunched in comprehension of your answer. “Why not?”

“It makes me squeamish.” You shrugged.

“Stop being funny.”

“You’re being funny. Whatever happened to you wanting to be free?”

“I don’t understand.”

Arms defensively crossed over your chest, you looked away from him and muttered, “You know what I mean -”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I didn’t mean I wanted to be free from you!” Kai’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he continued to argue, “Please don’t tell me you’re in love with the idiot you’re engaged to.”

“Of course not! It was just an arrangement to keep his loyalties with the family.”

“Then what is it?” He asked in his softest voice.

“I can hear the words you don't say, gadjo.” You bellowed, nearly throwing him back.

He shushed you before asking in a whisper, “So?”

“Isn’t it terrifying?” You struggled to keep your voice low at his very tempting yet terrifying proposition.

“On the contrary, in fact. I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. I say the things I don’t mean and freeze when I’m expected to say something. I’m easily misunderstood, Lys.”

“But everyone has secrets that they’d like to keep...secret. And from where I stand, you’re a man of too many secrets, gadjo.”

“And you’re the woman capable of unveiling them all. Look, I have nothing to hide and I don’t even want to keep anything from you. The rest,” he gulped hard before continuing, “is up to you. Think about it, would you rather be trapped in a loveless marriage? You’re the bravest woman I know, Lys. Don’t try to run away from truth.”

Ever since you’d met Kai, he was all you could think of. With him you felt safe and happy - the two emotions that had eluded you for the longest time. You wouldn’t dare to admit this to yourself but as frightening as it was, you also felt loved. All these years caught in an airless vortex, you felt like you could finally breathe - finally someone wanted you for who you were and not what you pretended to be - but something was still holding you back.

***

Kai’s words kept you up all night.

Eloping with him was a solution to all of your problems but it meant bringing shame to your family. You knew for a fact that you’d never be happy at the cost of their happiness. Sleep and answers eluding you, you scraped your hair up in a bun and threw a shawl over your shoulders to go see your father.

The fragrance of sandalwood mixed with liquor pervaded the air as you knelt beside his sleeping form. Age had started to prominently line his skin yet he looked a lot youthful without a scowl painted across his features. You planted a soft kiss on his forehead and the back of his hand, perennially struggling with your feelings towards him. He was your father, after all, and you couldn’t say that he never loved you. You only wished that he tried to understand you better.

“Dado,” you whispered against his hand, “I love you.” and broke down, sobbing quietly.

Suddenly, his disturbing thoughts came unravelled to you, filling you with unbridled rage and fear.

Fear for Kai’s life.

“You ice-veined monster...” You whispered against his hand before storming out of the tent.

“We have to stop seeing each other, gadjo.” Avoiding Kai’s eyes, you broke it to him as coolly as you could, caging a maelstrom of emotions within you.

“Would you stop calling me that? It’s cold and impersonal.” He took your hand in his as you both continued to trod lightly into the forest.

“And you’d like me to be warm...and personal..with a gadjo.. Because?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes at your remark but at this point you wanted nothing more than to save his life. When you grew to be so protective of Kai, you couldn’t tell but you knew you would do anything to save him from your vicious father. And to be able to do that, you needed him gone for good.

“Because I’m not just anyone. I am...” Breathing heavily, he pinned you to a tree.

Yours, roared his conscience. Unambiguously.

A welcome warmth seeped into your veins but you maintained a stoic demeanour. If he could hear your thoughts he’d take you away...far, far away from this stockade you called home. Tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back, spilled from your eyes as he lowered his mouth to meet yours in a deep kiss.

“We can’t be together, Kai.” Breaking the kiss, you pushed him away and sank to the ground, weeping.

Despite your protests, he carried you in his arms. Smiling, he nodded to gain your attention and trust before yelling, “Three…,” You engaged your core at “Two” and at “One” you felt a familiar uncomfortable knot in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s dark here.” You remarked, while still in the protective comfort of his arms.

“It’s night time in this part of the world, dragă.” He explained putting you down on your feet.

“Oh..you just called me -”

“I’ve been learning your tongue, iubirea mea.”

You were grateful for the darkness as it concealed just how smitten you were. Swiftly changing the subject, you asked, “Where are we?”

“Somewhere far, far away,” said Kai and you heard the smile in his voice, “at the edge of a crater of a volcano. But not to worry, it’s an inactive one.”

“How boring!” You teased, as he carefully sat you down.

A blanket of stars glimmered above as you and Kai cuddled closer to each other, enveloped in a cool breeze.

“Lys,” Kai’s eyes shone brighter than the stars as he turned to face you, “whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ll work it out. My father once said that there is no problem so complex, nor crisis so grave that cannot be satisfactorily resolved within twenty minutes. And twenty minutes is all we have. Right?”

“I have to be back in time for -”

“For lunch, yes.”

“Let me tell you a story,” you said, and Kai lay down, resting his head in your lap.

“Go on,” he urged you, the tip of his index finger meeting your nose in a little pat.

With your hand on his forehead, you narrated, “There was once a couple who married for love, much against the wishes of the Elders of their village. Because of this, the newlyweds were driven out. They wandered for weeks without food and water, travelling far and wide, seeking shelter...and acceptance. One day they found,” you swallowed hard and Kai’s expression turned solemn. He gently caressed your face with his fingers, calming you down to help you continue, “they found us. Our clan, I mean and my father was Clan Leader at the time. The woman had grown fragile and sick and was in an urgent need of care but my father denied them shelter. ‘They’ve been expelled for a good reason,’ he maintained. He lacked the basic human decency to even offer them some food for sustenance. They camped outside the settlement, pleading with anyone and everyone who crossed paths with them...until...until the woman could take it no longer. She died in her sleep and the man vowed to annihilate all those who were responsible for her death - our clan included. The leader of the dacoits who brought you to the clan that day is the man in the story, Kai.”

Brows furrowed, Kai opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

“My father - he - he recognized the man the day they stormed our settlement. And after everything, when he found you, it was like he’d struck gold. He was all set to incriminate you because our clan won’t rest until someone’s been punished. But truly - it’s all his fault. Had he not denied them refuge, the man wouldn’t have harboured resentment against us. Now he knows about us. He knows that you come to see me...he’s been keeping a close eye on us to be able to capture you at the right time. It won’t be long before he succeeds, Kai. So you must- I mean, we can’t -,” you huffed, “after all, I’m engaged to be married. Minseok and Yixing are going to pay Baekhyun a visit tomorrow to fix a date for the wedding.”

Biting on his lower lip, Kai contemplated on your words for a while before speaking again. “Seventeen minutes. I have a plan. Do you trust me?” He looked at you with mischief twinking in his deep, dark eyes and a smile teasing the edges of his lips. You replied with a hesitant nod.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” You said.

“Anything,” Kai said with a smile. He closed his eyes and placing your hand on his chest.

“You can be anywhere, everywhere and with anyone, yet-”

“Yet?”

“You know what I mean,” your voice trailed off.

“I can be anywhere and everywhere,” said Kai, cupping your face in his hands, “but I want to be by your side. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Don’t you see why it makes me upset when you say that we can’t see each other anymore? Don’t you see the irony? You can’t tell me that I can ‘port anywhere, except where I actually want to be. I love you, Lys.”

Looking straight into his eyes you said softly, “Love is a strong word.”

Brows quirked, he enquired, “Does it scare you?”

Your eyes glistened with tears as you responded, “As selfish as it may sound, I don’t want to bring dishonour to my family.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“But what if your plan fails?”

“It won’t. And if at all it does, I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound. As for me, it’d be an honour to die for love.”

He loosened your fist open and placed a small china jar in your palm. You opened to find almonds in it. He grinned wide, and said, “Fresh ones.. in case you’d run out.”

If you loved Baekhyun you would’ve, without a doubt, stabbed the woman with the same knife that she sat polishing.

For the longest time you’d tried to hate her for being the object of your fiancé’s affections, admire her for her bravery, admonish her for her recklessness for if anyone were to ever find out… but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything for or against her.

Pivoting your attention to Kai’s best laid plan, chin up and voice firm, you said to her, “Show me your best blade.”

“What do you need it for?” She asked nonchalantly, entirely focused on the task at hand. Sure you’d grown softer since you’d met Kai but for her to not acknowledge a former Clan Leader’s presence fueled your anger.

You walked over to her and rested your hands on her shoulders, squeezing a little too harshly than you’d intended to. You wished she were thinking about anything other than Baekhyun but you weren’t surprised to find that she wasn’t.

“Lys!” She exclaimed, almost falling out of the little worn out wooden stool. She met your eyes, albeit with great difficulty.

Deliberately curling your lips into your best feature - a sinister smile, you whispered in her ear, “One that is good enough for carving a man’s heart out of his chest,” before tossing a piece of silver in her direction and strutting out with a navaja, a fighting knife.

***

“Do you have it?”

Kai appeared in your tent as you sat leisurely, snacking on peeled almonds.

“Solve a mystery for me. How do you always find me because I’ve never seen you wander in through the entrance panels. You just pop up out of nowhere.”

“We have an important task at hand.” He said, sitting down next to you, bearing the mannerism of an army general.

“No, I need to know. Now.”

Kai groaned at your unpredictable temperament and slapped his thighs.

“Alright, if you must know,” he said in a seductively low voice, leering at you as his nimble fingers drew circles along your foot. He slowly drew your skirts up with his other hand and you immediately smacked it down in protest.

“Fine,” he chimed. Letting out a sigh, he tugged at your anklet, “The sound of this has been burned into my memory. It’s how I find you everytime.”

“How very romantic. What if I were to take it off?” You asked playfully.

He tilted his head to the side, a hint of annoyance on his face. Firmly, he said, “Please, don’t.”

“Alright, alright!” You exclaimed at the sudden shift in his mood. “So what’s next?” You asked.

He removed an unassuming little vial from the pocket of his buckskin waistcoat and said, “This.”

You recognized the design of the vial - the opaque green glass bottle and its mouth closed with a black cork, “A spell?”

“The dragon’s wife is too trusting!” He exclaimed cockily.

“You went to see Bulibasha’s wife -”

“Assuming a disguise, of course!”

“Are you insane?!”

“Does it come as a surprise?”

“What did you tell her?!”

“I told her that this spell is the only way I can be with the one I love. And I wasn’t lying.”

“You really have a death wish, gadjo!”

“Kai!”

It took you a little while to calculate the risks of his audacity. Gaping at him, you finally spoke again, “Tell me what’s next. I have the blade.”

“Excellent.” He held the bottle up to your eye level and explained, “I’m going to sprinkle this on the Bladerunner when she’s on her way back home in the evening and her worst fears will come alive and start gnawing at her. And what do you think is her worst fear?”

“Losing Baekhyun.” You answered in a haughty disdain.

Kai chuckled. “Perfect. You said your brother and the dragon are going to visit your pretty little fiancé tonight? This spell will get the better of the Bladerunner and against her best judgement, she’s bound to go to see Baekhyun around the same time. The two men already have their suspicions about her and to catch her visiting Baekhyun at an ungodly hour will only reinforce their worst fears and this time they’ll not be able to wriggle out of it. Baekhyun and the Bladerunner will definitely be called into the dragon’s spine-chilling, morbid private chamber after that and a decision will be made.”

“What does that mean for us?” You asked, adrenaline making your blood quicken.

“Leave that to me. All you have to do is be there before they pronounce a decision and request a private audience with the dragon and your brother. And remember to,” he grabbed the navaja from your nightstand, its cutting edge reflecting the glint in Kai’s eyes. The corners of his mouth curled up, he quipped innocently, “use this well.”

The day unfolded exactly the way Kai had predicted.

Baekhyun and the Bladerunner had been called into Yixing’s private chamber at dawn. It was too early for the clan to start it’s day so you waited outside the tent just as Kai had instructed, listening closely for the right time to make an entrance. A loud and intense argument ensued between Minseok, Yixing, and Baekhyun - the three men who might as well be sworn brothers.

If you’d never met Kai, you would’ve thought that Baekhyun was being dramatic - fighting tooth and nail to save himself from heartbreak. It was a little selfish, you thought. Hearts mend, your father said to you when you had begged him not to put down your pet goat when she’d injured herself.

“But not without leaving a deep scar,” you muttered to yourself before barging into Bulibasha’s private chamber.

Seeing your father’s arrogant portrait next to the dragon’s in Yixing’s private chamber bolstered your bitterness towards him. Without another thought, you struck the portrait in its right eye with the navaja. That wasn’t what the knife was intended for but it was akin to killing two birds with one stone. As it went flying towards the portrait, it nicked the Bladerunner’s ear since she heroically pushed her lover out of harm’s way.

“Lys! You’ve ruined Father’s portrait!” Your dutiful big brother lambasted you.

Having dressed for the occasion in a red, black, and gold robes, and lips painted in a delicious scarlet, you walked with a deliberate swing in your hips, your dark, waist length hair emulating the movement. You allowed your fingernails to brush the Bladerunner’s arm as you sauntered over for the navaja under eagle-eyed stares.

With the knife in your hand, you came and stood before the Bladerunner, placed a hand on her cheek and whispered, “You have beautiful skin, Bladerunner. I’d hate to ruin it,” as you ran the edge of the navaja along her neck, pressing it just enough to leave her with a superficial cut. You were sure Baekhyun was bound to overreact, and he did.

He pulled you out of the way, standing like a barrier between the woman he loved and the one he tolerated. His firm grasp around your wrist was starting to hurt you but you maintained an unwavering demeanour. Your eyes landed on Baekhyun’s exposed sternum. It had been a while since you saw him without the basil necklace. The necklace was a testament of the promise you made to love and cherish each other forever but it was obviously no more than an accessory to him.

“Hand it over. It never looked good on you, anyway.” You whispered and extended your hand toward him. Without a word, he slapped the necklace into your palm. Your heart hammered widely against your ribs because things were going exactly the way they were supposed to but in your experience it was never a good sign.

You knew what Baekhyun was going to do next. The look in your eyes taunted and teased him until he finally snapped. Baekhyun grabbed the dagger from your hand amidst loud gasps from everyone present.

He’d done it.

One prevalent belief still held by the clan was that taking a knife straight from someone’s hand meant that the relationship between the giver and the recipient had been severed.

Baekhyun had finally severed his relationship with you. Despite the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, you smiled inwardly at Kai’s genius.

“Baekhyun! What have you done?” Yixing’s voice thundered, echoing loudly in everyone’s ears but the enormity of his action was clearly lost on the Baekhyun. He continued to plead, “If the Bladerunner is to be punished, Bulibasha, I deserve a harsher punishment. I don’t care what the Zakono says. You can’t go on acting like she was alone in this!”

Minseok seemed firmly rooted to his place as he shot daggers at Baekhyun, his cat-like eyes disapproving Baekhyun’s out-of-character rebelliousness.

Now’s the time, you thought to yourself before being the one to break the uncomfortable silence. “He seeks her when he’s upset. And even when he’s not.” You turned to bow before Yixing and appealed, “Bulibasha, I would like to request a private audience.”

***

An exhausted Yixing slumped to the floor with his back against his spectacular dragon portrait. Face buried in hands, he groaned, “You young people really know how to complicate matters.”

“I agree,” Minseok joined in the whining while pouring wine into three goblets.

“Yixing, you have to stop acting like we have decades between us. And Minseok, put that down! It’s too early in the day for wine! Tell me what you’d rather have me do. He’s been in love with the Bladerunner forever.” You tried reasoning with them but Minseok only shook his head indignantly at your words.

“Baekhyun can’t do this to us after everything our family’s done for him. We took him in, fed him, clothed him. This is not how he repays us!” Minseok exclaimed.

You couldn’t help but draw parallels between Kai and Baekhyun’s journey so far. While they didn’t have a lot in common, one thing was for sure. They’d forever been treated like outsiders in their own homes.

“Bulibasha -” You turned to plead with Yixing.

“This is a nice switch from Yixing for when you want to reprimand me to Bulibasha for when you need something from me.” Chastised Yixing, tilting his head to the side, expression blank.

Eyes downcast, you mumbled, “I don’t want to go ahead with the wedding.”

“The Lys I know would want revenge. The Lys I know would’ve asked for his head on a spike. And hers, too!” Yixing exclaimed.

“I’m just not the same Lys anymore. The both of you really need to stop trying to control everything and everyone around you. Minseok, you know we have better fighters now and we don’t really need Baekhyun anymore. And you can’t use me to keep him by your side forever. Besides,” you got up to fetch a goblet of wine for yourself, “forgive me but… i need some liquid courage before I -”

“Please don’t tell me you’re serious about the gadjo.” Minseok muttered nonchalantly, with blatant disregard for the surprise his statement had taken you with.

Steadying yourself by tightly gripping the goblet, you asked, “You know about him?!”

“Of course, I do!” Minseok exclaimed, “I mean, we do, Yixing and I both. You thought you’d disappear randomly and nobody would ever find out? The gadjo even procured a spell from the Clan Leader’s wife! It was foolish, if you ask me.”

You offered no further explanation and said instead, “Kai. It’s his name. You’d do well to remember.”

Fuming, Yixing bellowed, “Have you no shame, Lys? His people stormed our clan. We lost no fewer than eight lives that day! You lost Vera! Have you forgotten already?”

With no care in the world, you started to defend Kai, “I haven’t forgotten and I never will. But the monsters who raided us weren’t his people. He was just as surprised by it as we were. Whatever happened is Dado’s fault.”

It was Minseok’s turn to rebuke you, “Lys, I know you love to blame him for everything but this is a serious matter. You’re taking things too far.”

“No, Minseok, it honestly is!”

Minseok and Yixing listened carefully as you revealed to them the secrets your father had been harbouring and how it was his ruse to pin the blame of the raid on Kai. Neither of them spoke for quite some time, trying to assimilate the information you’d just shared with them.

“Lys,” said Yixing calmly, as Minseok sat with his hand over his head, “even if what you say is true, you know the Zakono does not permit you to marry a gadjo.”

“Bulibasha, say that I was snatched...taken...it’s better than saying that I ran away. I can’t bear to be here any longer.” You walked over to where your brother sat, shaken and furious. You took his hands in yours, looked into his eyes and cried, “Minseok, someone like me is not meant to be confined… I want to be out in the world, moving constantly, exploring, unearthing its marvels and wonders, its deepest ...the most well kept secrets, just- just living. I am begging you to let me live!”

“Lys, that’s enough!” Interrupted a new voice, bringing you a sudden surge of relief.

You turned around to find Kai in light-toned pink fitted trousers and a broad cummerbund around his slim waist that accentuated the elegant lines of his body. A relaxed chiffon and lace tunic in the same pale pink shade with flared sleeves that closed around his wrists was tucked into the cummerbund and his ebony hair fell in silken locks over his forehead.

He took confident strides towards Yixing, and stated with a sense of surety in his eyes, “If we wanted, we could’ve disappeared without a trace.”

“Get out, gadjo,” said Minseok in a dangerously low voice, “nobody needs you here.”

“The woman I love does,” answered Kai coldly, “so I will stay until she asks me to leave.”

Anger igniting his momentum, Minseok lunged forward and punched Kai in the chest with all the strength he could muster causing Kai to stumble several feet back.

“Look at him!” Spat Minseok as you rushed to Kai’s aid while he struggled to gain his bearings. “What a weakling! I cannot trust him to protect my little sister.”

Regaining your composure, you said to your brother in a threateningly calm voice, “Minseok...don’t make me say it.”

Minseok turned to you, face scarlet and eyes bloodshot. He demanded, “What is left to be said, Lys?”

Brows furrowed you looked him in the eyes as your heart threatened to leap out of your chest. “Father doesn’t have a lot of years left and... you know how bad it’ll be if word got out we were raided because of his misdeeds...the wrong decisions he made as Clan Leader.”

Minseok laughed darkly and shot you a disgusted look. “You’re right, Lys. You’re clearly not a child anymore. But what would you rather have me do, huh? Disrespect the Zakono? Give you away to a man who abandoned his own people? One who doesn’t have a place to call home?”

“Minseok, that’s enough,” commanded Yixing, causing Minseok to stop at once. Hands on hips, he continued, “Everyone has the right to choose their own destiny. And I’m sure you understand this better than I do, you can’t expect our headstrong Lys to change her mind easily especially when it’s set on something. We’ll let you have your way, Lys. But -” Yixing’s scrutinizing gaze met Kai’s kind eyes.

Yixing reached for the leather coffer which sat in an inconspicuous corner of the tent. You’d been to the private chamber multiple times for various reasons before but you’d never noticed the coffer. He crouched over it, rummaging for something specific. It was a few minutes before he rose to his full height again, a talisman in his hand, his face saying nothing in particular.

He split the talisman in two, fastened one half of it to a black thread and quietly tied it around your neck and gave the other piece to Minseok. The talisman was similar to the one he wore around his wrist. It was very much like a jade stone, flickering in various shades of green as if alive and breathing.

“The talisman will tell us where you are - at all times. It’ll turn red to signal us when you’re in mortal danger. If that is to ever happen, no matter where you are, you know I’ll find to you in no time. And when the light goes out - ” before the mood could turn somber, Yixing continued with a voice heavily laced with pride, “Don’t ever think about taking the talisman off. Well, the truth is, you couldn’t even if you tried. This thread has been strengthened by a number of powerful charms and spells..fashioned by my own wife.”

You responded only with an understanding nod, the realization that you were finally going to have it your way had not sunk in yet. Yixing and Kai shared a look before Kai walked over to him with a grave expression on his face. Yixing drew a dagger out the bandoleer strapped around his thigh and Kai placed his hand on the teakwood desk in the room.

“Make it quick, Bulibasha,” said Kai.

“What’s going on?” You whispered into Minseok’s ear.

Minseok sighed before responding in a clipped tone, “Proof that we fought for you when the gadjo was taking you away as revenge for the death of his dacoit friends. But the gadjo just.. vanished with you and all we managed to get was -”

Your conversation was interrupted by Kai’s muffled cry of pain as he collapsed at Yixing’s feet.

“- a little finger.”

In a state of blind panic, you rushed to be by Kai’s side, struggling to form words. You were aware that Yixing wouldn’t let you go without proof of Kai’s commitment towards you but you never imagined it would come to this.

“Take this,” Yixing held the mouth of a vial to Kai’s lips as he grappled with consciousness. Kai hurriedly gulped down the milk of the poppy which knocked him out almost immediately. While he was asleep, Yixing called for his woman to clean and bandage him.

***

You spent that time sitting next to a sulking Minseok.

Setting aside his pride, Minseok finally asked, “Will you atleast come visit?”

You rested your head on your brother’s shoulder and he instinctively huddled closer to pat it affectionately. “Every full moon, I promise,” you replied softly as a silent tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled out a heavy drawstring pouch from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to you saying, “Keep this.”

You shook the purse in your hand until the coins jingled and then reprimanded Minseok, “Kai’s father is King for god’s sake! He can take care of me.”

“But I still want you to have it. I had so many dreams.. the wedding I’d planned for you..” said Minseok as tears sparkled like diamonds in his eyes, “please...keep it.”

You pulled your brother into a tight hug and sobbed, “Take care of yourself, always.”

“You’re a fine one to talk...eloping with a gadjo. Can’t say that I didn’t see this coming. Unconventional to the end, Lys.” He twisted your ear playfully while crying and laughing simultaneously.

“Let those idiots get married, Minseok, and set the fool who broke my heart free.”

“Lys -”

Pouting, you asked, “Won’t you do it for your darling sister?”

“Fine!” Minseok agreed begrudgingly, “Anything else, your highness?”

“Take care of Vera’s mother.”

“You know I already do,” said Minseok, flicking your forehead. “Promise me you’ll come visit? And you’ll always, always take care of yourself?”

You took Minseok’s hand in yours and pressed your lips to his knuckles, as his heart continued to weep.

***

It was nearly noon when Kai finally awoke.

You stood up as he walked over to you with a marked confidence in his demeanour like his little finger wasn’t carved out of his body just a few hours ago. He wrapped his arms around your waist, while Yixing and Minseok watched uncomfortably, and rested his forehead against yours.

With your hand on his chest you asked Kai, “Are you alright?”

“Never been better. You look like a bride, iubirea mea,” he said, holding you closer, tighter as his hands travelled the length of your back.

“Shall we?” He asked, lowering his head to press his lips against yours. He deepened the kiss and you responded with equal fervour as he lifted you off your feet, twirling you in his arms until you felt a familiar, intense drop in your stomach, one you’d soon have to get used to.

‘Cause I’m too wicked I want to take all of your heart Don’t you worry So soon, you have my world

You make me feel so Mm-mhm..

**********************

hello @diveinthebluewithyou this one’s for you...welcome to Romaniverse!! hope you enjoy <3

79 notes · View notes

killing-all-joy · 3 years

Note

“Can we stay like this forever?” but angst (analogical, Virgil says this while they're cuddling but when he falls asleep Logan leaves to go do something that might kill him)

virgil is bi in this, fyi. sorry if i wrote this in a way you Did Not Want Me To

cw: homophobia, death threats, guns, violence, injury, graphic murder (no major character death don’t worry), swearing

Logan felt Virgil’s head fall onto his chest. They had been watching a movie together, but it had finished long ago and now they were just cuddling on the sofa.

Logan put an arm around his boyfriend. Virgil made a noise of contentment. His eyes were closed but he still managed to direct a blissful smile up at Logan. Logan looked at him with admiration and love, hand moving to caress Virgil’s cheek and brush his hair out of his eyes. Virgil hummed happily at this, nuzzling into Logan’s touch. He took Logan’s free hand in his.

“Can we stay like this forever?” asked Virgil, running his thumb over Logan’s knuckles.

“I hope so.”

“Me too,” Virgil replied, moving his head a bit so he could kiss Logan’s hand. “I love you so much, and you’re so comfy.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss on Virgil’s forehead. “I love you too.”

Virgil hummed. “I love you more.”

“Falsehood.”

Virgil giggled. Logan thought it was the most adorable and beautiful sound; he only wished he got to hear it more. Usually Virgil was much more composed and displayed a negative attitude. Right now, though, he was tired and with his boyfriend—two things that lessened his need to have a filter on his words.

“You gonna stay with me, L?” asked Virgil.

Logan hummed.

He didn’t want to verbally confirm and end up lying to his boyfriend, but he also wanted to keep Virgil happy. A noise like a monotonous hum could make Virgil think Logan meant ‘yes’ when he actually didn’t mean that at all.

Logan continued to run his fingers through Virgil’s purple hair. It was soft and beautiful and Logan’s favorite hair in the world since Virgil was his favorite everything. Favorite person, favorite boy, his eyes were Logan’s favorite pair of eyes, he sometimes wore Logan’s favorite smile, etc. Logan constantly thought about how lucky he was to have Virgil.

After ten minutes of silence, Virgil fell asleep. This didn’t surprise Logan; Virgil hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep the night before. Him napping was good.

Logan stayed still for about thirty minutes after Virgil had fallen asleep, wanting to make sure he had entered a deeper sleep before Logan moved. When that had happened, Logan slowly untangled himself from Virgil and moved off the sofa, trying to be as undisturbing as possible. Logan stacked a couple pillows to replace himself so Virgil wouldn’t notice he was gone. He then tiptoed to his room, took a gun from the dresser, and then tiptoed to the door where he took the keys off the keyring and exited the apartment.

He quickly made his way to his car. He drove off and into the downtown area of the city. Parking in the parking lot of a small park, he rechecked his pockets to make sure he had the gun before exiting his car. He locked it, and then started walking to a nearby alley.

Logan wasn’t here for no reason, and that reason was correlated with why Virgil hadn’t slept well the previous night.

At around 4 a.m., Virgil had been awaken by a threatening text from an ex-girlfriend. She didn’t know Virgil was bisexual when they dated. She had learned yesterday, was very disgusted, and threatened to kill Virgil (perhaps worse) for not telling her that she was dating someone who was also into guys. She demonstrated that she had the means to and would strike when least expected. Logan had come over to Virgil’s house at eleven in the morning when Virgil didn’t show for their breakfast date, and Virgil, sleep-deprived and terrified, told Logan everything.

Logan was scared. This ex-girlfriend could clearly kill Virgil—and would, if she got her way. So, Logan had texted her, pretending to be someone with money to give her. They were to meet in this alleyway at 10 p.m.

It was precisely that time now (this was a rare instance where Logan didn’t want to be early), so Logan quickened his pace. He kept the hand on the pocket containing the gun.

He entered the alleyway. It was dimly lit by a streetlight, so he could faintly see the back of a person ahead. He figured it was Virgil’s ex. She had long, fairly straight blonde hair which was clearly dyed, and was wearing a brown leather jacket and light blue jeans. Her boots were dark brown and worn.

When Logan had reached the distance he wanted to be from the woman, he drew his gun. It was clear she heard him, because she started to pivot on her heels to face Logan.

“I don’t see a briefcase,” she called, taking a couple of stalking steps towards him.

“I do not have one with me presently.”

“Where is my money?”

Logan didn’t answer that question. He took a few steps forward of his own. “I did not bring money to this rendezvous.”

Her hand started to drift towards her pocket.

“You will leave Virgil Storm alone forevermore.”

She laughed. “You’re what? His boyfriend? Come to protect him? I bet you’ve never held a gun in your life.”

Logan rolled his eyes. He didn’t answer, though, as any information could give her the upper-hand. He pointed the gun at her head.

“You will not kill Virgil Storm,” he growled, knuckles going white on the gun.

She laughed again. “No.”

“I do not want to use force.”

She took another step towards him, feigning curiosity while still keeping the conceited confidence that gave her the dominating air in the conversation.

“If you don’t want to use force,” she said, running her tongue across her upper lip, “then why do you have a gun?”

“I will use force if necessary.”

She pouted. “But it’s not necessary. You could leave without any harm done to you, and-”

“You will kill Virgil.”

She nodded in consideration. “Yes, I will. But, still. You don’t have to use force. You could just as well let nature run its course.”

“I will not allow you to kill him.”

“You, someone clearly well-read and with a profitable career ahead of him, probably in science, are going to throw away everything you have for your boyfriend? When you have obviously never even come close to committing murder ever before?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he cocked his gun.

“If you promise you will not kill Virgil, I will spare you,” Logan threatened, gritting his teeth.

“Alright, you want to play dirty,” she conceded with a sigh.

Within the second, the gun in her hands was cocked, aimed, and had her hand on the trigger.

Logan fired.

Her eyes widened and her movements stopped, her firing arm slackening. She obviously didn’t think Logan was capable of murder. The bullet soared through the air and landed in her forehead.

Logan watched as her body fell backward. Her head hit the asphalt with a crack of what was likely the breaking of bones in the skull. Logan switched on the safety to his gun and slowly put it down, satisfied.

“LOGAN!” he heard a voice shriek, followed by dashing footsteps.

The voice was loud, terrified, and definitely spoken by someone who was currently crying.

“LOGAN!” There it was again, accompanied by the running footsteps that were getting progressively louder.

Logan frowned. Who could that be? He hadn’t told anyone what he would be doing.

Logan watched the figure round the corner and enter the alleyway. Logan’s eyes widened as he realized that it was Virgil.

Nevermind that Virgil was supposed to be asleep, how did he know he was here?

“LOGAN! Oh god, Logan!” Virgil shouted, running over to him. He stopped three feet in front of Logan.

“Why are you awake?” asked Logan curiously. “And how did you know I was here?”

“The neighbors were loud and you got a text that worried me so I checked it out,” said Virgil dismissively. “What happened?”

His last sentence was frantic, worried.

“Are you bleeding? Do I need to call 911? I heard a gunshot and I got terrified,” Virgil rambled. “Obviously someone fired a gun here and I was so scared they killed you, L, so goddamn scared...what the hell is wrong with you, going to a dark alleyway at night? I thought you said you’d stay.”

“I did not say I would stay, I merely made a noise acknowledging that I had heard your request,” Logan corrected.

Virgil glared at him. “Those were the less important of my questions.”

Logan sighed. “I am unharmed, Virgil. You do not need to call 911.” Logan glanced behind him. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Virgil looked confused. “Then what happened? Did they miss you? Why aren’t you in shock? Where are they?”

Logan took a step to the side and gestured behind him. “No one missed a shot.”

Virgil’s bewilderment did not cease. “I see a dead woman. Who killed her? Were you tending to her?”

“Take a closer look, my love.”

Virgil would have blushed at the pet name if it wasn’t such a dire situation. Virgil took a few cautious steps towards the corpse. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh...oh my god, it’s her,” said Virgil, no longer confused. “Who killed her?”

Virgil turned around to face Logan in time for him to hold up the gun. Virgil’s eyes widened. Logan was scared that it was in fear.

“You...you killed her,” whispered Virgil.

“I did not want to,” said Logan matter-of-factly. “Truly, I didn’t. However, she was aiming to kill me and I had no choice.”

“For me.” Virgil still seemed to be in shock by the news.

Logan blinked. He looked down at the gun thoughtfully. “Yes. She demonstrated the means and the desire to kill you. I confronted her. She tried to kill me and stated that she would kill you in the future. I killed her instead. Simple.”

Virgil shook his head. “You killed someone, risked so much...for me?”

Logan bit his lip, but nodded. There was a moment of silence.

“You idiot!” Virgil suddenly shouted. “You absolute moron! Why would you do that? I told you not to do anything about it, that I would be okay. We could have called the police! But no, you went out here and almost got yourself killed!”

“We fucking hate the police, Virgil!” Logan replied, not matching his boyfriend’s volume but still raising his voice. “Besides, she could have struck at any time! I was unwilling to take any chances! Not when your safety is concerned!”

“I am not worth you risking your life for!”

“Like hell you aren’t!” Logan shot back. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “I’m sorry for yelling. But what’s done is done. She is dead by my hand. You are no longer in danger.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You are much less bothered by that than you should be.”

“About murder?” asked Logan coolly. “You mistake my impressive education for having prosperity in my youth. I grew up in the most dangerous and criminal neighborhood in the city. I have certainly fired a gun before, and I have witnessed murder more times than that.”

“Have you killed before?”

Logan shrugged. He didn’t answer. “Let’s go home.”

“You haven’t.”

“There is always a worthy situation. Protecting your life will forever be one of them.”

Virgil was silent, looking as though he didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking down to his shoes. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, my darling,” replied Logan, putting his arm around Virgil. Virgil blushed at the term of endearment, leaning into his boyfriend’s side. “Now we can stay in each other’s arms without any external interruptions.”

Virgil smiled. “Logan?”

“Yes, V?”

“The authorities have wanted her dead for a couple of years now for a variety of murders. I don’t figure they will investigate someone who finally took her down.”

Logan grinned. “Thank you, Virgil. I was worried about that.”

They walked back to Logan’s car.

“I can’t wait till we get home and I can cuddle the shit out of you,” Virgil said excitedly as he put on his seatbelt.

“Nor can I.”

Taglist (I forgot it for my last one, sorry!): @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

I know I kind of strayed from the prompt (did I?) so I’m sorry for that. It’s not as angsty as you probably wanted it to be, Lila, but at least there was a happy ending (right?). I hope you liked it!

#analogical #ts fanfic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #romantic analogical #sanders sides fanfiction #dark fic #swearing tw #murder tw #guns tw #graphic depictions of violence #homophobia tw #death threats #injury tw #prompt #fic #somehow-i-got-an-account #sanders sides #kill writes

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moondustaeil · 4 years

Text

nct ⥂ twenty-one ways to kiss

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·. twenty-one ways to kiss

⋅ genre: little soft hour collection w fluff, angst, a bit of everything

⋅ inspiration: here

⋅ members: Lucas → Jisung [ pt 1 ]

ｗｏｎｇ ⋅ ｙｕｋｈｅｉ

⠀〔 11 : 14 am 〕

⋅ a kiss lazily

The dark-brown mop of hair was spread out on the pillow next to yours, some adventurous strands falling on the edge of your pillow each time Yukhei tried to get closer to your side of the bed. “Yukhei” you warned first, slowly opening your eyes only to be met with a closeup of his adorable smile and those puppy-brown eyes. “I can’t breathe if you’re so close” you said with a small laugh, your hands pushing against his bare chest, which almost makes you shiver despite the warmth of the skin. “Do I take your breath away?” Yukhei asks in a playful way, once more nudging his tired body closer to yours for some early -11 am- affection. A scoff leaves your lips, followed by a laugh as you realise what he’s trying to say in a joking way.

“You could if you give me a kiss” You answer after your fit of laughter dies down together with Yukhei’s cute and soft giggles. You only say the words in a joking matter, but still, Yukhei plops himself down on your side of the bed, before pressing a few soft kisses all over your face.

And one last kiss lands upon your soft lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｌｅｅ ⋅ ｍａｒｋ

⠀〔 9 : 27 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss as comfort

The room feels like it’s filled with darkness the moment you enter, but in reality, it’s the gloomy climate that has been hovering over your head all day. Something you had been keeping from Mark, as of course, you had no other option as you had been out all day and he was busy enough with leading his own life. “Mark?” you ask softly as you see your boyfriend on the bed, dressed in nothing but his shorts to sleep in. The earbuds in his ear keep him from noticing your presence until you drop the bag that had been strapped onto your back for most of the day, one second after he notices you, his earbuds are discarded on the carpet. “y/n” he calls out soft, taking in your appearance but the aura tells him everything without having to see you.

“C’mere,” Mark tells you in a soft voice, and you can’t help but comply and crawl over your side of the bed, immediately into the arms of your lover. You sigh soft, glad the day is just a couple of hours away from being over. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, bringing your hand up to his lip just as you shake your head as a ‘no.’ Your answer is accepted, Mark is thoughtful and understands when you don’t want to talk about certain things like a bad day.

Slowly, he turns your hand around so that the palm is facing him. “I love you so much, and you did a great job today” he whispers before pressing miniature kisses to each tired fingertip.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｘｉａｏ ⋅ ｄｅｊｕｎ

⠀〔 8 : 45 am 〕

⋅ a kiss out of love

The sound of a couple in love breathing softly was replacing the romantic music that would have played in any drama, a heap of sheets covering whatever was too bare but in reality hidden because it was too cold to lie in bed without. Tangled in love, you found yourself cuddled up with your lover, Dejun.

“This is what I dreamt of almost every night, soaking myself in nothing but you and our love” Dejun softly admits to you, his voice explaining the words with nothing but the admiration and love he has for you. His heart seems to skip a beat the same time yours stops momentarily, the words bringing you deeper in the haze of aftercare.

There was a first time for everything, including making love with your lover for the first time. That’s exactly what happened and ended less than ten minutes ago, the miracle that led you into this soft haze of love. Your thoughts kept you busy, until a couple of soft kisses scattered on the skin above your collarbone.

“Our love”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｗｏｎｇ ⋅ ｋｕｎｈａｎｇ

⠀〔 5 : 59 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss as a lie

“So you’re telling me that all of this was fake all this time?” You ask with a small scowl displayed on your face, the facial-expression makes it clear that you fell for something and got hurt as you believed in the fabricated tale. Wong Kunhang, nicknamed Hendery, nods his head to tell you that’s exactly what it was all of this time, but it’s not a confession and it’s surely not true.

Kunhang has to hold back a sigh, knowing it would make his already silent conversation less convincing. “Our love. All of the kisses, everything else, it was all fake” He states, clearing his throat in hopes that the pit of lies will soon be swallowed even though it would grow a tree of guilt in his stomach. You can only listen rather than respond and your feet are frozen on the carpet despite having sneakers on to run from the situation.

“Why did you lie?” You ask eventually, taking a step closer to the person you can no longer call by sugary sweet nicknames. Kunhang takes your hands in his, drawing you closer than he would like but it’s his heart that decides what he should do. You’re close enough to suddenly feel his lips brushing against yours, soft as a summer breeze but the taste of the sand is bitter. A pause develops before your lips meet up for the second time, meeting in a delicate kiss for what seems like the last time.

Kunhang lied only once, and that was when he said your love was fake.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｈｕａｎｇ ⋅ ｒｅｎｊｕｎ

⠀〔 3 : 16 am 〕

⋅ a kiss as a promise

Watching stars with Renjun was like standing in the middle of an empty art gallery, with only each other and one single masterpiece to stare at. No art could compare to the masterpiece named Huang Renjun, no star in the sky could compare to how bright he shone in your world.

“So this is why we get up at 3 in the morning, for you to stare at me?” Renjun asks with a soft chuckle falling from his lips, he knew he was the person that suggested watching the stars for what seemed like the fourth time this week. It’s dark but somehow he knows that you only have eyes for him, perhaps it’s because he only has eyes for you too.

You’re his muse, if only he was an artist that painted you on countless of canvasses but each in dissimilar scenery. “It’s love, Renjun. Lovers stare at each other instead of the stars” you answer, following the cliché because you know it’s more than just a tale, it’s what happens each time you’re around him. “Will you always stare at me like that?” he asks quietly, showing his softer side in the darkness so that you fail to see the teary eyes when he hears the word love.

“I promise” you whisper against the shell of his hear, your lips slowly lowering to press a chaste and loving kiss upon his lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｌｅｅ ⋅ ｊｅｎｏ

⠀〔 8 : 30 am 〕

⋅ a kiss good morning

The word good didn’t fit the mood when you and Jeno were awakened by the alarm at half-past nine. It wasn’t the hour that decided today wasn’t good, it was the fact that today was the last morning you would be able to spend together for quite a while, just like last night had been the last intimacy-filled night for the upcoming time. The sheets are still a mess, surrounding you and Jeno as the two of you lie in the middle of the bed, wrapped up in each other’s limbs and warmth.

“Today is the day” Jeno starts after he stops the alarm from making the morning worse than it already is, both of his arms tightening around your body in order to make it harder for you to untangle. A way to make you stay, a way to make himself stay... and perhaps a way for the love to never leave your sides. “It is” you confirm silently, your head laying against his shoulder as you enjoy the last minutes.

Jeno’s lips press against the top of your head, hoping it transfers your thoughts to his so that he could carry the burden but make sure your thoughts about him would never grow less fond.

Today is the day, it starts with a morning and ends without your lover by your side.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｌｅｅ ⋅ ｄｏｎｇｈｙｕｃｋ

⠀〔 4 : 51 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss as a “yes”

“I didn’t know” Donghyuck and you almost simultaneously say out loud, staring at one another like there was something awkward sticking onto your cheeks. The moment is awkward, especially when you want to stare at each other all day but have never been able to do so before. “Me neither” both of you are about to say, but the words leave your words before Donghyuck can mutter them.

This is exactly what happens when childhood friends grow attached to each other, and after many years finally spill the tea and confess their love. It had been minutes ago since finally both of you had confessed: you first as you rambled about how beautiful he looked each second of the day, and Donghyuck who would always think about you even during nighttime.

Donghyuck’s finger traces over your lip gently, making sure to precisely trace the shape of your cupid’s bow. “Does that mean you love me too?” he asks soft, his fingertip trembling as he says the words. Your lips are quick to press a soft kiss against the insecure skin.

“It does, I love you too”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀

ｎａ ⋅ ｊａｅｍｉｎ

⠀〔 11 : 16 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss on a falling tear

The colour of the sky represents the tears that both you and Jaemin had been shedding in the past hours. The stars seem to represent all of the memories, or perhaps the countless arguments that you had in your relationship: they were always there, just not always as outstanding as others.

"I'll never regret anything we had" Jaemin whispered soft in your ear, his arms pulling you closer before you're able to move away from his embrace. Despite the end coming near, there's not a chance that either of you would pull away from the other. "Me neither" you whisper back to him, the words sounding as genuine as you mean them to be.

Silence sits between the two of you, closing the little gaps that once had been filled with an endless amount of love. It's not uncomfortable and you know the silence is only there to stop either of you from making the other stay, something that happened one too many times before.

A sniffle leaves your lips sadly, unable to stop yourself from trying to find a way in the vague scenery: the haze between an unfortunate ending or a peaceful goodbye. Neither of the two attracts you, you feel too safe in the embrace of mutual love and admiration. Jaemin pulls you back by your shoulders, looking at you with serious eyes.Those brown eyes that you wish you could drown in, but now you're staring at them, perhaps for the last time in the existence of time and reality.

Jaemin’s lips press upon your tear-stained cheeks, keeping the salty droplets from flowing momentarily. "Look at the stars, let them represent our memories: not all of them as bright and outstanding as others, but they're always by your side and by mine too"

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀

ｌｉｕ ⋅ ｙａｎｇｙａｎｇ

⠀〔 5 : 39 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss as a suggestion

"Do you know what people do when they're bored?" Yangyang asks out loud after he lets himself fall back on your bed, not leaving any more space for you to lie other than sit on the tiny bit of space on the edge of the bed. His foot kicks against the delivery box until it falls off the bed, and you're lucky that it's empty so that it can't stain the carpet.

You shake your head as you sit on the bit of space reserved for you, looking over at him with curious eyes because you already expect the little smart-mouth to have an answer ready. "No, what do they do?" you ask, ready for a nonsense answer like going outside to run through the streets whilst thick droplets of rain are trickling over your heads.

"They kiss, bored people are supposed to kiss, especially when it rains. It's romantic" He answers your question. He's joking but if you're willing to say yes, then he no longer is joking because he wants to kiss your lips. A little glance towards you reveals that you're surprised by his words: your pupils dilate and you cutely look very confused right after he blurts out the words.

"Who said that?" you inquire as a laugh leaves your lips, it doesn't hide the surprise as much as you hoped but Yangyang doesn't seem to care whether the surprised look is written all over your face or not. "I did" he answers simply, pulling you down by your arms so that you're half on top of him rather than on the tiny amount of space left. "And if you want to find out if that's what bored people really do, you should test it."

His words leave you speechless but Yangyang only gives you one second to answer as he leans towards you and pressed an unexpected kiss to your soft lips, leaving you wanting for more.

Bored people are supposed to kiss, especially when it rains, it's romantic.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀

ｚｈｏｎｇ ⋅ ｃｈｅｎｌｅ

⠀〔 10 : 44 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss goodnight

Chenle’s eyes struggle to stay open, despite the obnoxiously loud noise that leaves his laptop. Watching cartoons when the clock is almost at eleven was not a good idea, but it was Chenle's way of saying he didn't want to sleep yet, simply because he enjoyed spending time with you.

It's the first time you stay the night at his place and he wants to make it comfortable, fun, exciting and also late on the clock, but Chenle is so hardworking that he can't help but start rubbing his eyes after a certain hour passed on the clock. Perhaps it's also because you're cuddled up in each other's arms and it's warm enough to immediately head to dreamland.

"We should sleep, Chenle, you're tired and I'm getting tired too" you whisper in his ear, trying to test if he's still awake since his eyes had fallen or fluttered shut a few seconds ago. The warmth his body gives off makes you cuddle a bit closer, and he almost immediately reacts by pulling you closer into his embrace. "I don't want to sleep yet, I'm not tired" he protests quietly but it takes a lot of effort to say the words as he can't even realise what he just said.

With one hand, you try to close the laptop and move it to the floor, a task that is hard enough with Chenle who seems like a koala clinging to a tree. But after your little effort, you're able to comfortably hold your boyfriend again.

"Chenle?" you ask silently, keeping your lips far enough from his ear so that you don't wake him if he really fell asleep this time, when you don't immediately receive a reaction, you know he had indeed fallen asleep like you almost predicted. "Goodnight" you whisper, pressing a delicate kiss on the side of his cheek before you close your own eyes and head off to dreamland.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀

ｐａｒｋ ⋅ ｊｉｓｕｎｇ

⠀〔 7 : 57 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss to gain something

"So the one who wins the next game is going to pay for food?" Jisung asks, making up the rules but you already agree by nodding your head because you're overly used to doing this by now. It's a cute little game you both play in order to decide who will pay takeout: the food depends on the mood that you're in, just like the game depends on how hungry you really are.

You ponder in silence for a few seconds, thinking about which game you've not played recently, and you can already leave out a few minor ones because in the past weeks Jisung was too hungry to wait for long games to decide the winner. "How about we give each other kisses, the first one who smiles has to pay?" you suggest to him as it randomly crosses your mind like that. It's a game you made up at that second, and you're all in for the tiny kisses and little giggles of happiness already. "Challenge accepted" Jisung says right away.

A couple of minutes later both you and Jisung are sitting opposite of each other on the bed, legs crossed so that neither of you can cheat by playfully pushing or kicking the other. "A kiss on the cheek will do" Jisung says as he leans forward, pressing not one, but two kisses to the side of your cheek. In surprise -because he cheated- you let out a small laugh and point your index finger in his direction. "You're a cheater!" you protest.

Jisung's finger is pointing at you like your finger is pointing at him, both almost giggling already but pursed lips prevent you from doing so. "You just laughed" Jisung says, sticking out his tongue as he thinks victory is his. "But you cheated" you protest back to him, your arms playfully crossing over your chest.

An hour and many kisses later, cheater Jisung got all of the kisses and free food.

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