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youmakemyhearthowl · 1 year

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Punk Princess

Steve's almost positive he’s gonna puke.

Because sure he’s seen Eddie DM with the kids before, but it’s like he’s a whole other person when he does it for the Hellfire club. There’s a heavier weight in the way he spins his story here, like he makes it more light weight and fun for the kids but he’s absolutely brutal in the club.

The heat has got to be set too high in here, Steve feels like he’s melting through his Anarchy sweater as he watches Eddie.

He’d always known Eddie drew in a crowd, pulling attention and lighting up a room. But the demanding, dominating presence he has in the old drama room has got Steve praying to whatever will listen that he doesn’t pop a boner while he’s sitting next to him. And maybe it's because Eddie keeps using this, this deep voice that’s got him distracted.

But honestly, Steve just can’t stop thinking about this man ruining him.

From the looks Robin keeps shooting him, he knows he’s not doing the best job hiding how flustered he is. Eddie commands the room, weaving the new campaign's story and pulling everyone into the fantasy world, and Steve is a weak, weak man.

Eddie turns to him then, eyes shimmering with passion and joy, his happiness leaking into the air around them, and smirks.

“What say ye, Sir Stephen the Devoted? Do you run, or do you stand and fight for your people?” Steve has to fight back the full body shiver that crawls up his spine, his brain going a little foggy at the low tone Eddie’s taken to using for the NPC he’s currently speaking as. His hand grips the pants on his leg tightly as he tries to will his brain to power back on and do something, say anything that might sound intelligent, but he’s stuck just, fucking staring at Eddie’s mouth, until someone slams their hand on the table, snapping him out of wherever the hell his brain had just gone. He glances around at his fellow Party members around the table, trying to figure out who made the noise, but every one of them has a look of fake innocence plastered on their face, a mischievous glint in every eye at the table. Robin snickers behind her hand, the new purple that she’d replaced the pink with in her hair, catching the light.

Steve was a fucking lost cause, he couldn’t even remember the question anymore.

“Uh… Can I roll perception?” Eddie's eyes light up and he clasps his hands together in excitement.

“Excellent call Stevie.” And he’s off, explaining what Steve sees after he rolls a 14, his arms moving to enunciate his words. Steve feels Robin's foot kick him under the table and he looks across at her, her charcoal smoked eyes glittering as she unleashes a full Robin smile on him.

He has to muffle his laugh behind his hand but Eddie's words cut off abruptly.

“I’m sorry Princess, is something funny?” And there's something that flashes in his eyes as he leans on his hands, close enough for Steve to feel his breath on his face, and Steve has to take a deep breath to ground himself, because Jesus Christ if that didn’t just totally get him hard.

“You know, boys who misbehave generally have to go sit in the corner until they’ve proven they can be good.” Eddie’s practically purring the words, and Steve has to suck in a sharp breath between his teeth, because he’s pretty sure if he doesn’t think of something else right now, he's gonna cream his pants like a preteen and that’s gonna be embarrassing for everyone in the room.

“I can be good.” He whispers out, eyes wide, watching as a slow smirk spreads across Eddie’s face.

“Then be quiet and pay attention when I’m talking.” Steve mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key causing Eddie to nod.

“Good boy.”

Steve fucking ascends.

Leaves this planet and slams back down into his body so hard he’s gripping his leg enough to bruise. He’s vaguely aware he can hear Gareth and Robin snickering somewhere in the room, but he’s so focused on thinking about bugs, Demogorgons, anything to get his raging erection to go down before he’s got a very uncomfortable sticky condition in his pants. By the time Steve's able to think even semi coherently again, the rest of the players are arguing on what the next move should be, and Eddie’s eyes are burning holes in the side of his head.

He turns his gaze to offer Eddie a soft smile, and the smirk he’s met with tells him his entire situation didn’t go unnoticed by him. Steve runs his tongue over his lip ring to help calm his racing heart and Eddie’s eyes snap to the movement, Steve isn’t sure how, but his smirk gets wider.

He’s literally never going to be able to think about Eddie again without playing that whole conversation in his head on a loop. Over and over. When suddenly Eddie's eyes soften, his hand reaching out to smooth over the crease between Steve's eyebrows he knows appears when he’s thinking too hard.

“You okay pretty boy?” Eddie whispers, the two of them in their own little bubble while everyone else continues to argue over whatever they're arguing about.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” He tries to offer up a reassuring smile, but it must not fully convince Eddie, because he drops his hand down under the table and grasps Steve's own giving it a soft squeeze. He returns the pressure searching Eddie’s eyes, Steve’s not really sure what he’s looking for, but looking into Eddie’s eyes seems to calm the waves of unease that had suddenly clung to his chest.

After the game ends for the night, Eddie is a ball of energy, jumping around and bouncing from person to person to talk to them about his favorite parts of what happened. It reminds Steve a lot of Dustin and his heart swells a little at that. Eddie looks so carefree like this, just happily talking about something he loves. He looks ethereal, beautiful. Like the sun coming out after a particularly terrible storm and

Oh.

This isn’t just a physical thing.

Fuck.

Steve’s pretty sure he’s way more then half in love with Eddie, and he’s so beyond not ready to face that. His track record in love sort of speaks for itself, and he’s not entirely ready to even risk running Eddie off. He needs Robin. He needs Robin right now. Slipping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his chest, he gently taps three times on her arm.

Three taps means I love you.

Three taps means I need you.

Three taps means Please help me.

Her head snaps up to look at him, and she must see the panic in his eyes, because in an instant she's linking their hands and dragging him off. Offering some kind of explanation to the rest of the group that has Eddie’s eyes catching his. He offers him a tight smile and lets himself be dragged off behind Robin.

“Okay what’s going on, Dingus?” Robin’s voice soothes something in Steve as she plops him down on a bench towards the side of the school, sitting next to him and angling their bodies to face each other. Steve notices idly that his combat boot smears some mud on her dark wash jeans.

“Is it the Eddie thing? Cause that was a little intense.”

“It’s kinda the Eddie thing, but not what happened in the room.” Steve can tell his smile probably looks forced. It’s not like he doesn’t think Eddie likes him back. He’s had plenty of evidence to show just how much he can get under Eddie’s skin too. But that’s all just physical. Physical, Steve can do, because hearts don’t get involved.

“Robs, I like him.” Robin snorts, her ‘no duh’ face loud and clear. “No I mean, I really like him.” He says this part quieter, the tremor in his hands the only thing really giving away how much this information terrifies him.

“That’s good isn’t it Steve? He obviously likes you back.” She reaches up and pushes some of his hair off his forehead, leaning down to make eye contact.

“I don’t have a good track record with relationships, Robin, like real relationships.” Her eyes seem to light up as she finally pieces together what he’s trying to say to her.

“Steve, darling, silly, Steve. That was the old Steve. The one you were when you weren’t really being yourself. That Steve had a bad track record with everything . This one, the real one, doesn't. This Steve is kind, and open, and a mean girl for the underdogs. This Steve is real. Which means that this Steve's relationships are going to be real, and more meaningful.” He’s never heard such a serious tone in her voice before. All random rambling gone, her hands wrapped firmly around his. She was steady and confident in her words, and who was Steve to argue really? When Robin was the perfect example as to how much deeper and more meaningful his relationships were now.

“You’re everything you know that?” Steve smiles at her, his chest warm and full.

“And you’re everything and more Steve Harrington. And I know it’ll take time to believe that, with how your parents were and how things ended with Nancy. But I’ll keep reminding you everyday.” She pulls a hand up to her chin deep in thought, “ And I’m willing to bet Eddie will too.”

And isn’t that just a concept?

“I think I’ll keep playing for a bit longer, before I tell him.” He knows he’s being a little shit with that, but it’s also to just give him time to wrap his head around everything he's realized, and make sure he’s really truly ready to commit to something before he does. Robin rolls her eyes.

“At least he seems to like taming brats.” She mutters under her breath, pulling Steve up and along towards the parking lot. “Now come on, you know how El gets when you’re home too late.”

#Punk Steve #Punk!steve #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin and steves friendship means so much to me #oopp steve blue screens #punk princess fic #steddie #steddie fic

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gotham-ruaidh · 2 years

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass) || Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round) || Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger) || Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) |I| Also posted at AO3

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Chapter 11A: Nightrain

I'm on the night train, bottoms up I'm on the night train, fill my cup I'm on the night train, ready to crash and burn I never learn I'm on the night train, I love that stuff I'm on the night train, and I can never get enough...

Soundtrack: “Nightrain,” Guns N' Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

~~Summer 1990~~

Carefully Claire Fraser folded her legs, settling into the corner of the deep couch, stroking her daughter’s cheek as she nursed.

“Better?”

Claire glanced up at her sister-in-law Jenny, then back down at Brianna.

A soft clink as Jenny set a glass of ice water on the table at Claire’s elbow. “Much better. For both of us.”

“Yeah. I remember when my kids were that small, on the tours in ’84 and ’85 and ’87. I so loved being with Ian and going to the gigs, but it meant a cranky mama and an even crankier baby after a few hours apart.” Jenny kicked off her Keds and curled up on the other side of the couch. Watched the lights of LA shimmer in the hot summer night. “This is a killer room.”

Claire smiled. “Jamie wanted to make sure we had plenty of space.”

Jenny snorted. “A five-room suite, when I know well enough that the three of you cram into the one bedroom?”

Brianna’s eyes began to droop. Claire shifted her in the crook of her elbow, free hand caressing her daughter’s tiny legs and feet. “We’re not used to all of the space. You’ve seen our house – we don’t like anything too big. But Jamie’s treating our trip here like a vacation. Five sold-out shows at the Forum is enough to celebrate.”

“Not to mention an appearance on Leno.”

Claire smiled. “That was interesting.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow skeptically. “What was more interesting – the awkwardness when Julia Roberts thought Print was Guns N Roses? Or the awkwardness when that chick threw her bra on stage during the song?”

“Ha. Both, I guess. She didn’t get the memo that Print’s guitarist is very married to the woman he wrote that song about.”

Jenny took a long sip of water. “The girls used to go after Ian too, you know.”

“Still do,” Claire smiled.

Jenny shrugged. “I used to let it bother me. But I can’t – and I don’t anymore. I know just how much Ian loves me, and loves our family. I laugh it off, because I know he’s coming home to me every night. I hope it doesn’t bother you, Claire…”

Jamie’s laugh as he nestled with Claire in their backyard at home in North Carolina, watching their dog Rollo chasing fireflies.

Jamie’s eyes, focused and intense, as they quietly made love that morning, snug beneath the comforter of the absurdly large hotel bed, Brianna quietly sleeping in her crib by the door. How his breath stuttered when she traced the tattoos over his heart – her name, and Bree’s name, still new and raw on his skin.

Jamie at the Forum earlier tonight, fully in command before tens of thousands of fans, slamming the chords on his guitar as he played the songs he’d written for her at The Ridge. His smile as he glanced over to her, standing side stage and cheering. The taste of sweat and joy on his lips as he crashed into her waiting arms after the set, kissing her and kissing her and kissing her in the dark, the crowd roaring for an encore.

“It doesn’t bother me, Jenny. It never has.”

“I’d understand if it did, Claire…”

She shook her head. “I’m that sure of him. His love for me, and for Brianna, and our life together. And his dedication to sobriety. That’s what I remembered when I saw that tramp in the front row lift her tank top over and over again for most of the show tonight.”

“Well, you know that Angus is into that kind of thing. Poor man just keeps chasing the pretty faces.”

Bree finished, and gently Claire lifted her onto her shoulder, patting her tiny back. “He’ll be lucky if he only walks away with a broken heart, and not a case of the clap. I had to write him several prescriptions last year for – ”

“Don’t tell me!” Jenny laughed. “I get the picture.”

Claire kissed Brianna’s forehead. “I’m glad the afterparty is just up on the roof. Jamie’s exhausted. He’d never say it, of course. But I know.”

“Yeah. The final shows are the hardest.”

“And especially with a three-month-old…I don’t care that she’s a good baby. It’s exhausting.”

“I can’t wait to have Ian home. It’s been nice to come out here, and leave the kids with his parents for a few days. But I – ”

Thunderous pounding at the door.

“Claire!”

Jenny’s eyes went wide. “It’s Ian.”

More pounding “Claire! Open up! Now!”

Jenny ran across the living room and pulled open the door – revealing her husband, panting, sweat staining the neck of his Print World Tour ’88 t-shirt.

“Claire. You need to come with me. It’s Jamie.”

Claire didn’t remember slipping on her shoes or handing Brianna to Jenny, but somehow she was at the door. Ian was already running down the hall, toward the elevators.

“What’s going on?” She must have run after him, because suddenly they were in the elevator car, heading toward the penthouse.

“It’s those assholes from Poppy. I knew we shouldn’t have asked them to be our openers, even though they’re a great local band. FUCK!” Ian screamed, slamming the wall with an open fist. “I can’t believe those clowns thought they were being funny.”

“Ian – Ian, tell me what happened.” Her voice was shaking. “Is Jamie OK?”

Ian turned to face her as the elevator slowed. She saw the tears forming in his eyes.

“No, Claire. He’s not OK.”

The doors opened – and within a second, Claire knew.

A potted palm lay on its side at the elevator landing. Around the corner – from the pool deck – sounds of splashes and smashing glass.

And shouts.

Jamie’s voice.

Or, a stranger speaking in Jamie’s voice.

“COME ON, YOU PUSSY. DO IT!”

She had never heard Jamie’s voice like that.

“DO IT, YOU ASSHOLE. WHAT, ARE YOU AFRAID?”

It was him – but it wasn’t him.

She ran around the corner.

Jamie stood – shirtless – on the pool deck, fists raised, no more than a foot away from Jayce Red, the lead singer of Poppy, who sported a black eye and freshly torn shirt.

Several pieces of deck furniture bobbed in the pool. The front row girl from the concert that night sat on the steps in the shallow end, crying softly.

Up against the deck rail – with LA glowing behind them – Print drummer Angus Mhor was pounding Poppy guitarist Scott Sars in the stomach. A couple Print roadies were pushing a pile of food and smashed crockery into one corner of the deck. Poppy’s drummer and bassist – twins Tim and Tom Zim – huddled behind a pile of deck chairs.

What the hell had happened?

“I won’t hit anyone who’s high!” Jayce screamed at Jamie. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight!”

Jamie darted closer, fists still raised. “I’m not high, you motherfucker. I’ve been sober for three years.”

Jayce raised his hands. “Look, I already apologized to your bassist. It was a fucked up thing that Tim and Tom did, OK? They call you the fucking Energizer Bunny, so they wanted to see how you’d be on speed. Now we all fucking know, OK? Can we just calm the fuck down?”

“This is me calm, Jayce Red, or whatever the fuck your real name is. At least I have the balls to use my own name!”

Jayce looked across the deck, and his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Hey man, your bassist and wife are here. Just go with them, OK? I’m sorry for what those idiots did.”

“You’ll pay for all the damage,” Ian shouted. “Come on, Jamie. Settle down. Let’s get you into bed.”

“That’s right, you better the fuck pay!” Jamie screamed.

From the moment they’d met, Claire had idly wondered what Jamie would be like with substances churning through his body. One part of her always thought that he’d be more reckless. Another part always thought that he’d be a mean bastard.

Never would she have expected her worst dreams to come true.

She had to bring him back to himself – to her…

“Jamie.”

He froze. Saw Claire there, across the deck, for the first time. Still wearing the black scoop-neck top from the gig, the one he loved so much.

He dropped his fists. Sank to his knees.

She watched all the energy evaporate from his body.

And he tipped headfirst into the pool.

In medical school she had learned about adrenaline rushes. How they – briefly – infused people with superhuman strength, and provided an intense clarity of focus. Purely to help you survive.

Jamie had always loved how much smaller she was than him. How easy it was to tuck her into his side, or pick her up and throw her, giggling, onto their bed.

Now she dove into the pool headfirst. Found him splayed on the bottom of the deep end. Pushed and pulled him up to the surface, gasping. Toward the waiting arms of Angus and Ian and Jamie’s guitar tech Arch. Watched his long legs disappear up through the surface.

Only then she realized her lungs had started filling with water.

Her vision blurred and darkened. The last thing she felt was four strong arms hooking her elbows and pulling her toward the surface.

(to be continued…)

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be #jamie and claire

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attaboy-art · 2 years

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idk how to use tumblr so pardon if i did this wrong somehow, but for requests, could you draw hersh and des hanging out? (i've been desperate for bronev sibling content lately) also love ur art

okay so im gonna put these under a readmore because theres A Lot. so click below to see the art ‼️ but rhis was super super fun and i hope u all enjoy

[Image ID 1: A digitally drawn mini-comic on a pastel red background of Hershel Layton and Desmond Sycamore. Panel one shows Hershel in the open door of his home, happily greeting Desmond, who is nervous and holding a suitcase. Desmond starts with, "Good morning, Professor. Sorry for dropping in so suddenly, but could I step in for a second?", and under his breath he says "Don't make a scene. Let me in your house right now." The professor replies, "Of course! Flora just made some tea. Would you like a cup?" and whispers back, "I don't know what you want but you better be normal about it." The next panel shows the door slamming behind Desmond, who is loosening his tie and looks disheveled. He drops the nervous act and angrily says, "Listen, Layton. I need to crash for a few days and you're going to let me. Do you understand?" The third and final panel shows Hershel silently stare, annoyed, for a moment, before sighing and conceding with, "I am a patient man." /.End ID 1.]

[Image ID 2: A collection of fully colored digital drawings of Hershel Layton and Desmond Sycamore. On the left is Desmond and Hershel on their way to Gressenheller University to explain away one of Hershel's adventures. Desmond is wearing a casual black turtleneck and beige pants, while Hershel is in his usual attire. Desmond mockingly says, "Oh, don't worry. Your big brother is here to protect you from the scary school board." and Hershel responds with an annoyed "Mhm." The drawing on the top right shows Desmond sleeping on Hershel's couch under a white blanket that covers most of his body. He is wearing a purple satin sleep mask with closed eyes embroidered on top, black socks, and a deep blue satin bonnet. One of his legs is propped up on the armrest of the couch and the other is folded close to his body, and he has one hand on his chest while the other is under his blanket. The final drawing in the lower right shows Desmond, getting ready in the morning, looking in the bathroom mirror. He has natural kinky hair and one hand held out expectantly. He is wearing a white button-down shirt with the top few buttons undone and a loose tie around his neck. He's saying to an off-screen Hershel, "Layton, get me my iron or you're stupid." Hershel protests, "But I'm—" but is cut off by Desmond saying "I don't care. Get it for me. I'm older, so you have to." /.End ID 2.]

[Image ID 3: An uncolored digital comic done in brown ink on a pastel red background. Panel one shows Desmond, sitting on his heels, looking triumphant with a monopoly board in front of him. He says, "Heh. You've lost, Layton. The Free Parking Spot is too far to reach in one roll, and I've calculated that your chances of landing on your one property on this side of the board are next to zero. Face it. I win." Panels 2 and 3 show Desmond and Hershel on either side of the board, with Hershel looking thoughtfully at it as he rolls the dice. Panel 4 shows that he rolled two sixes, and he exclaims, "Oh! Doubles!" before moving his piece, the top hat, through the crowded board and onto his property. Panel 6 shows Hershel happily saying, "Safe! How lucky." Panel 7 is a close-up of Desmond, unresponsive and silent on a solid brown background. Panel 8, the final panel, shows Desmond holding the board over his head and scattering money, houses, cards and more everywhere, while Hershel shields his face and turns away, yelling "Desmond!!" in shock. /.End ID 3.]

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mmvalentine · 2 years

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Lover Like Me pt 5 | Feysand

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 ** Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tarquin makes good on his word and starts messaging me over the next couple of weeks about getting paintings into his gallery. He wants six, says I can pick four but he must have these two specific ones from my Instagram. I agree to it of course, it’s my first gallery. I’d agree to almost anything. Problem is, I don’t have them. They’re at Tamlin’s.

“Do you want me to drive you over?” Rhys says. We’re all at his place, the movie’s queued up but we’re waiting for Mor. Apparently, the last time they started without her she threw a fit and made them play it from the beginning even though they were a half hour in. I'm telling them about the painting situation, but I haven't shown them the photos yet because I want the first time they see them to be in person, in a gallery. Maybe some of Mor's dramaticism is rubbing off on me.

“No,” I tell him. Rhys’s voice is casual, but there’s something about the set of his jaw when he thinks about taking me back to Tamlin’s house, and I know he doesn’t really want to do it. “I can just do something similar.”

“Okay.” Rhys eats his pizza, letting me pick the olives off my pieces and put them on his. It's a symbiotic system we have. I'm sitting in my what has become my usual spot, in between Mor and Rhys, with his pizza box balanced on my outstretched legs and warm on my shins. He says nothing more about the paintings for the rest of the evening.

When we’re all going back to our own beds, I find Azriel leaning against my door.

It's unusal that I speak to Azriel alone, but Rhys has passed out on the couch and only grunted at us when we tried to wake him.

Last week, I stayed back to help him clean up because I got startled by a jump-scare in the movie and kicked the bowl of popcorn clean out of Rhys's lap. We discussed Beyoncé's input to the new Lion King in parallel with Elton John's in the original while Rhys washed, sleeves pushed up and hands sudsy, and I dried, perched on his kitchen bench beside him. He gave me his silver rings to take care of while he worked, and they were huge on my fingers.

The week before that, Rhys got a new armchair and let me have his old one. He helped me carry it back to my place after the movie and we got into an argument about the best order to watch Star Wars in. We ended up playing about an hour's worth of YouTube content to back up our claims. Perched on the edge of my bed, crowding the small screen of my ancient laptop.

Today thought, it's just me and Azriel, and he has a question for me.

“Can you really do another two paintings before next weekend?”

“Sure,” I say, wondering why he’s asking.

“The four you’re bringing. They’re all new ones, right?” His hands are in the pockets of his jacket.

“Yeah,” I confirm. “I didn’t bring any with me when I moved, they’re too bulky.”

“Do you find it easy to produce artwork on demand?”

“No,” I say slowly. “This is probably the fastest I’ve ever made anything.”

“And do you get as much satisfaction with the end result?”

“I guess not.” I peer at him searchingly, still not understanding.

There’s a long pause, and I’m about to ask what exactly he’s doing outside my door grilling me when Azriel says, “I could get them for you, you know.”

I just stare.

“Get… what, Azriel?”

“Your paintings. I can get them from Tamlin’s house without him knowing.” He says it like he’s offering to pick up some milk since he’s doing a grocery run anyway.

My first instinct is to say no. Is to say definitely not, bad idea, we are not poking the hornet’s nest.

"Azriel, I can't ask you to do that..."

Not to mention it appears that I'd being helped out again and so far have still not brought anything to the table for these people.

"I don't mind. It'd be fun, I need to stretch my legs. So to speak."

Problem is, he’s right. I don’t have two more paintings in me. And I just cannot disappoint Tarquin.

“Okay,” I say. Slightly breathless. Unbelieving. Azriel nods, and pushes off the door.

“Do you want to stay here or come with?”

I blanche. “What, now?”

He shrugs. “You got someplace else to be?” I have no answer to that. “Come on then,” he says, and doesn’t wait for me before strolling off. I shoot a desperate glance towards Rhys’s closed door, praying he’ll never find out about this, and follow Azriel into the night.

Azriel’s car is old but in excellent condition. I can easily imagine him working on it, quiet and meticulous, with scarred but loving hands. It purrs quietly through the streets, and I chew on my fingernails as streetlights stroke the hood. I've never asked about the scars and I'm not sure there's an appropriate way of doing so, so I don't.

“Thanks for doing this,” I say. “I know Rhys offered but…”

“But Rhys isn’t exactly cool, calm and collected when it comes to Tamlin.”

“Exactly,” I agree. There’s a brief silence. “Should we… go over the plan?”

Azriel looks over at me then, curiosity sparking in his dark eyes.

“Sure,” he says. “Where are the paintings?”

“In the garage,” I tell him. “Leaning against the wall on the right-hand side.”

“Okay.” That’s all he says.

“Is that it?”

“Yeah, I can visualise the area.”

“You’ve been in there before?”

“I have.”

I don’t say anything, imagining what reasons Azriel could possibly have for being in Tamlin’s garage. Wondering if Tamlin knew he was there at the time.

“Right. So, what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?!” I whip my head around to look at him. “Then why did you bring me?”

“Because I thought you might want to come.”

And in fairness, I do. I want to be part of taking back things from Tamlin, and not just sending others in to do it for me.

“Can I be the getaway driver at least?”

Azriel smirks. “Can you drive stick?”

I roll my eyes. "Yes I can drive stick.”

“Then sure.”

I’m mildly surprised; I took Azriel to be the sort to be precious about his car and was ready to argue.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Azriel is quiet for a moment.

“It would be helpful to keep an eye out while I’m in there. Text me if you see Tamlin coming round.” He hands me his phone, glances at it to unlock it, and I use it to call my phone so I have his number.

“Anything else?”

“That’s it. This isn’t exactly a complex mission, you know.”

“Right.” We lapse into silence again. Then I say, “Do you do this a lot, then? Missions?”

Azriel barks a laugh, and I think maybe it’s the first time since I’ve heard it. His laugh.

“Not these days. But when we were younger we used to get into all kinds of trouble.”

“Rhys has told me a few stories…”

“Yeah well, we’re reformed now.” He glances at me. “This is a rescue mission, it doesn’t count.”

I gnaw on my thumb nail. The streets have begun to look familiar, and I’m getting nervous. Azriel looks slidelong at me.

“Not getting cold feet are you?”

“No,” I say quickly. Azriel smirks and turns his eyes back to the road.

And I'm not, not exactly. I don't have any qualms about taking my pantings back, but I'm suprised at how anxious being back in this neighbourhood makes me.

“Did Rhys tell you about the time we broke into the principal’s office at school and he was such a bad actor he almost wrecked the whole mission?”

“No,” I say again. A small smile finds me at the thought.

“Yeah, we were sixteen and Rhys was supposed to distract the front desk lady while me and Cassian snuck into the office. We were looking for a set of keys, see, but when we got in there, there was a whole cabinet of keys and we took ages finding the right one. I just remember trying to turn all the little tags over, and Cassian standing at the window signalling Rhys to stall.

“Anyway, Rhys is starting to sweat, he’s trying to charm this woman right, but she’s like fifty-five and not having it. And then the bloody principal walks around the corner and stops to ask what the problem seems to be.”

This is the most I’ve ever heard Azriel talk, and I’m enthralled.

“So what did he do?” I ask.

“He just starts babbling, I don’t know what he was saying but I’m hearing him chatter and then he knocks a cup of pens off the desk and when the Principal stoops to pick them up Rhys falls to the floor like he’s fainted.”

“Oh my god the drama. Did they buy it?”

“Not at all,” Az grins. “The Principal says, ‘Rhysand I don’t know what you’re playing at but you will get up off the floor this instant.’ And then I find the keys, and we wave madly at Rhys before sneaking out. Cassian strolls right in and offers to help Rhys get to the nurse, and the Principal just sighs and lets them go. Meanwhile, I was halfway down the corridor with they key in my pocket.”

“What was the key for?” I’m hooked, and the image of the three of them as teenagers is darling.

“It was to break Mor out of detention,” he said. “At that point, both me and Cass were trying to get into her pants.”

I laugh. “And did either of you succeed?” I tease.

“That, I will let you ask Morrigan.” He winks at me, and I settle back into my seat with a grin.

“We’re here,” Az says quietly, and my smile fades.

Indeed we are pulling into a street I know well, and Azriel parks the car in the shadows of a leafy tree across from Tamlin’s house. He gets out of the car and I slide into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat and the mirror to my much shorter legs. When Az knocks on the window, I wind it down and he leans on the frame.

“I really don’t expect anything to go wrong,” he says. “But if you see Tamlin coming out, call my phone and let it ring twice. I’ve got it on vibrate. Lock the car when I’m gone, just remember to unlock it as soon as you see me coming back.”

“Okay. Just remember that there’s a door into the garage from inside the house, so he doesn’t necessarily have to come outside to get in.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“Also, there will be quite a few paintings so maybe just grab them all.” But Azriel shakes his head.

“I don’t want them to be conspicuously gone. No reason for him to come looking for them.”

“Right.” My nails are in my mouth again. “I’m not sure where in the stack they’d be. Do you need to see the photos of the ones we’re looking for?”

“Yeah may as well have another look.”

I show him, and he nods. And then he’s gone, loping off in the dark so I can barely see him even though I’m staring after him. A minute later, I don’t see him but I see the movement of the garage door. I admire how quickly he’s picked the lock.

After that, time drags. My eyes flick between the blue numbers on Azriel’s dashboard, and the shadows in the windows of Tamlin’s house.

My old house.

It’s very strange to be an outsider here. I lived in that house for three years and it was my home, too. Even if I never quite felt comfortable there.

As I’m sitting here, the car is suddenly flooded with light from behind. It goes dark again, and I turn to see Tamlin’s car pulling into the drive way.

I had seen figures in the house and assumed Tamlin was in, but of course there were always staff around. Tamlin wasn’t home- but he is now.

I swear under my breath and fumble with my phone. I dial Azriel’s number and let it ring as instructed, but it doesn’t seem like enough. I suddenly empathise with sixteen-year-old Rhys, dropping to the floor of his Principal’s office.

So I clench my teeth and dial a number I thought I’d never dial again. He picks up on the third ring.

“Feyre?”

“Hi Tamlin,” I say.

“Feyre, where are you?” He cuts the engine, and makes no further movements toward the garage.

“I’m… it doesn’t matter where I am. I’m calling because… because I heard you were looking for me.”

“Of course I’m looking for you, you just disappeared on me. I’ve been worried sick.”

It's chilling how genuinely concerned he sounds. I'm angry that I feel this tug of guilt, and remind myself that concern does not count when on a turn of a dime he could just as easily be throwing things at my head again.

“I didn’t just disappear, though," I remind him. "I told you it was over. It’s not my fault if you didn’t believe me.”

“It can’t be over, Feyre. We were engaged. That doesn’t just go away.”

I swallow, and am very glad to be alone in Azriel’s car. This is a fact I hadn’t mentioned to Rhys or any of the others. I had left the ring on Tamlin’s nightstand with a note.

“Yes, well. We’re not anymore.”

I watch Tamlin get out of the car and pace back and forth. I watch the garage door crack open.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Tamlin says. “This is all just a misunderstanding. Come home, and everything will be okay.”

“No, Tamlin,” I say. “I’m not coming back. It’s over. I’m just calling to tell you not to look for me anymore.”

Tamlin turns on his heel and walks back toward the house. Azriel takes this opportunity to slip out, closing the garage door behind him and folding into the shadows. My heart leaps into my throat.

“I will never stop looking for you,” Tamlin growls. “You belong with me.” He turns again and walks back the other way, but Azriel is nowhere to be seen. I unlock the car doors.

“Good bye, Tamlin,” I say, and although it’s a stall tactic I feel it’s a conversation that needed to be had.

“You’ll never have it so good,” Tamlin snarls. But I hang up before he can get nasty, and when Tamlin spins and throws his phone against the wall, Azriel slips into the back seat. With two canvases tucked under his arm. Tamlin gets back into his car and drives it into the garage, and Azriel and I speed off into the night.

****

See just a little heist.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @themoonthestarsthesuriel @rarephloxes @timesconvert @mis-lil-red @alerialumina

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #rhys x feyre #can i tell you a quick story #last night i had the worst nightmare i think i have ever had in my whole life #i killed two people just trying to get out #which i was horrified by #it wasnt like some cool movie sequence it was nauseating #but then they WOULDNT DIE #so i tried to kill myself but that didnt work either #and then i found #i kid you not #a customer service desk #where i begged and begged to be let out #and then i guess they finally gave in because that's when i woke up #and thats only the ending the main part was full of running and hiding and being trapped #and having all kinds of bodily fluids forced on me #it was just #ive never dreamed anything like that #i was acutally scared to go back to sleep and then i told bf #and started crying like a kid nightmare #horrible #just truly horrible #anyway here's a nice fic

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queen-haq · 2 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 23

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R.

Words: ~4000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Mine (One-shot in the same universe)

source: @chailame

Day 5 - Friday

It was another long, torturous day Billy had to live through without you. He would’ve happily traded places with his younger self in the hellhole that was Kandahar if it meant not experiencing the anguish he was feeling right now. Physical pain he could deal with, he was used to it, but this… this agonizing heartache that gnawed at him every minute from not being able to see you – it was too much. He clutched his chest. The tightness in his heart seemed to grow worse every day along with the sinking feeling of hopeless despair that never went away. All because of you.

A part of him was pissed at you for putting him through this misery. If you actually loved him, if you felt even a fraction of what he did for you there was no way in fucking hell you would have forced this separation on him. There were other ways you could’ve punished him but you chose the most painful route - no contact – and that could only mean distance from him wasn’t as exacting on you as it was him. He may have been a pathetic mess without you but you were probably fine without him.

What if you met someone else? That was the thought that fucking haunted him every night. It’s not like you were sitting at home, miserable without him. You were going out, looking hot, being yourself, charming all kinds of assholes with how fucking gorgeous and smart you were. You were beautiful as it was, but when you were all decked out with your hair and makeup done and your hips swaying as you walked through a crowd and your goddamn beautiful thick legs in high heels that he loved having wrapped around him as he fucked you… shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He had to stop doing this to himself.

He turned to his side, staring at the spot where you usually slept on his bed. His penthouse suite, once a place he was so fucking proud of because it reeked of class and money now felt barren and hollow without you. He felt empty without you, your smile, your love, your touch, your brilliant mind, your soothing words. Hell, even your anger.

Hearing his phone vibrate on the nightstand, he circled around to grab it. His heart started pounding when he saw there was a Whatsapp voice note from you. You wouldn’t be contacting him if something wasn’t wrong. Panicked, he started listening to your message.

“Hey, it’s me… don’t call me back, I just… I miss you. I wanted you to know.”

Hearing your voice, his chest constricted again. You sounded tired, upset, like you’d been crying.

“I went to work today and I got nothing done, because I just kept thinking about you. God, I sound like a pathetic teenager.”

So he wasn’t the only one having trouble focusing on work.

“I just… why did you have to do this, Billy? Why did you have to ruin things? Everything was going so good but you just had to mess things up. Why? I love you, I miss you… but I can’t be with you and I’m so fucking angry at you that I want to scream! I asked you for one thing, and it wasn’t even anything unreasonable and you couldn’t even do that… why?”

Hearing you sob on the phone made him feel like complete shit. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt you but that’s exactly what he’d done.

“My heart hurts so much right now and I don’t get why. I had strong feelings for you when we were just hooking up and you were sleeping with other women so it should’ve felt worse back then but this… this feels like you ripped my heart out of my chest.” You sniffled, your voice teary. “I hope you’re hurting as much as I’m right now but you’re probably out there having the time of your life. Maybe that’s why you did this. Maybe you wanted to break up with me but didn’t have the balls to do it so you fucked things up on purpose so I’d be the one to break things off. Is that why you did it? Are you that much of a fucking pussy?”

He sat up, suddenly panicked. Is that what you thought? No, there’s no way you’d believe something so stupid. The voice clip ended abruptly and he started dialing your number right away but then stopped himself when he thought about the conditions you’d set. What if he called you and it pissed you off more? But how could he not reach out and set you straight after you blurted out such a ridiculous idea?

Agitated, he texted you.

Can I call you?

He stared down at the app as you typed your message.

No.

Now what the fuck was he supposed to do? He started pacing the floor, angry at you but mostly at himself. Deep down he knew he was to blame for this. You were right. You’d asked him to stay away from your parents but he’d been so hellbent on making them pay he’d purposely deceived you. Lied to you. Billy knew he was a selfish asshole, that usually worked to his benefit, but if he ended up losing you because of his selfishness-

The phone buzzed again. Another voice note from you.

“I know you want to talk, but I can’t. It’s hard for me to stay away from you and it’s taking everything I have not to call you right now… please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

The desperation in your voice tugged at his insides. You were hurting, like him.

“About what I said earlier, I know you didn’t do it to break up with me. I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid. If that’s what you wanted, you’d have gone through with your plans for my parents. But you didn’t. You stopped because you knew I could never forgive that.”

Relief surged through him, he exhaled a long, drawn-out breath.

“I never realized how much calmer I feel with you around. I think it’s because we know each so well… I can be myself with you, show you the parts I hide from everyone else and you don’t judge me for it. Now you’re not here and I can feel myself spiralling over the smallest things. It’s crazy.” You laughed, the sound half-bitter, half-choking. “I thought I was the strong one. Thought these two weeks would be hard but I could just focus on work without any distractions and it’d be fine. But it’s not, Billy. It’s not fine. You’re such a big part of my life and without you it feels like half of me is missing.”

He sat back on the bed, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Need to go to bed… I’m so exhausted. And I have a headache from crying so much.” You sniffled again. “I’m PMSing too.”

He smirked, knowing how emotional you got when you were on your rag. He made a mental note to send you the imported British chocolates you loved so much. When you were achy and cramping, those chocolates were the difference between you being sweet and loving and completely hulking out on him. You didn’t like having sex when you were on your period, but you were more affectionate than usual and needy during those days and he loved seeing you act so clingy with him.

“You usually buy me chocolates. Will you send me some?” You sighed. “Okay, I’m gonna go now.”

The voice message ended, leaving him alone with his thoughts. A few hours ago he was wishing he’d never met you because the pain of missing you was so brutal. Now, he was willing to do whatever it took to get you back in his life. Yeah, it hurt like hell to be without you but if the separation now meant you’d start to trust him again and be a part of his life without any reservations he was willing to stick it out and deal with this fucking temporary heartbreak.

Putting his phone down on the table, he laid back on the bed and attempted to get some sleep.

Day 8 - Monday

Today had been a day from hell. There’d been a huge blowout with Frank, one of the clients he’d been recruiting was still acting wishy-washy so he’d lost it and snapped at him, and Sonia, his receptionist, had told him if he didn’t stop acting like a jackass she’d put in her notice by the end of the week. But now you’d left him a voice note and this fucked up day was instantly better.

“Thank you for the chocolates. You sent me so much, you know I have no self-control when it comes to them. I had to lock them up so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat all the bags.”

“I know things are hard right now but you can’t take it out on others, Billy. Especially Frank.”

Karen must have called you. Shit.

“It’s not easy but you’re a leader. You’re running your own company now. People look up to you and that means putting on a professional face even if the rest of your world is imploding around you. Otherwise you’re going to lose good employees.”

He knew you had a valid point, he needed to straighten himself out at work before his staff quit on him.

“We had a leadership meeting today at work. It was supposed to be a discussion about signing a potential client but it derailed within minutes. I hope they don’t agree to the contract. It’ll be a shit-show if they do.”

Your voice had a soothing effect on his frayed nerves, even as you chatted about things he didn’t really care about. You talked about Davina, and how she’d met some guy and how you’d bought a lot of shoes in the past week – tell-tale sign that you were also a mess without him.

“I know it’s a few months away but I was thinking… do you want to go away somewhere for Christmas? Maybe somewhere tropical with palm trees and beaches and warm weather… I mean, you obviously don’t have to. I usually spend Christmas with Davina and her family and maybe you also have plans… I don’t know, maybe it’s too much too soon. Maybe we’re not ready for that yet. Maybe you’ll meet someone in the next six days and realize you don’t want me anymore.” Your hesitant tone took on an unexpected shade of anger. “If that does happen, I’m going to make you pay. And that stupid bitch too.”

A smirk curved across his lips, hearing your jealousy peak through. It was fucking dumb as hell that you’d think that was even possible but he loved it when you got possessive over him.

“The jewel plug you got me, I’ve been thinking about it. I know I said I wasn’t sure before but I think it might be fun.”

Jesus Fucking Christ, were you trying to kill him or something? He had a hard-on just hearing the seductive drawl in your voice. You were deliberately being a cock-tease, knowing it would drive him crazy.

“Miss your hands on me, Billy…”

Fuck! He reached down beneath his boxers and started to jerk himself off.

“You do this thing with your tongue on my clit and it just…” You moaned, the sound so hot he practically came right then and there.

“And the way you play with my nipples… I never really liked guys touching my boobs before. They’d always grab too hard-”

What the fuck? Why the hell were you telling him about other motherfuckers touching your tits? Did you want him to fucking puke?

“But you, you have just the right touch. Not too rough, not too soft, just perfect. My very own Goldilocks.”

Your soft giggle was hot as hell and he starting pumping faster, fantasizing about your sweet, beautiful pussy. The smell of you, the taste of you, the sexy as hell moans you made the closer you got to your orgasm, how tight your cunt felt when he was buried deep inside you, the look in your eyes when he was fucking you relentlessly, your lush mouth wrapped around his cock-

“Did I tell you I bought a pair of handcuffs in Paris? I wanted to use them on you but then you pulled that stupid stunt… guess I’ll just have to wait to use them, maybe with someone else if things don’t work out between us.”

His jaw clenched with anger. No way in fucking hell was he ever gonna let that happen. You were his. That meant only he could fuck you. Touch you. Hold you. If you so much as looked at anyone else, he’d kill the fucker.

“Goodnight, Billy. Only six more days before I see you again.”

Technically five because it was after midnight.

“I know you’re probably so sick of hearing me say this but I miss you. I love you, Billy.”

It was the sweetness in your voice that pushed him over the edge, his body rushing towards orgasm.

Minutes after he’d cleaned himself up, he reached for his phone again. It took every bit of resolve he had not to call you, his fingers shaking as he texted you instead.

Five days, not six. And the only one who’s gonna be using those cuffs is me. On you. You’re mine. Always mine. The second Day 14 is over, I’m moving in. No more space, no more distance.

Don’t care if you still can’t trust me, I can’t be without you.

He stared down at his phone, contemplating whether to text you what was on his mind next. You already knew how he felt, he’d told you several times, but it was one thing to verbalize it and something else entirely to see it in text. Pushing aside his doubts, he hit ‘Send’.

Others have said they love me but it was bullshit. They saw what I wanted them to see. The pretty parts. But you see everything. Good. Bad. Ugly. And you still want me. You still love me.

And I feel the same about you.

Anxiety coiled in the pit of his stomach as he waited for you to respond.

I know, Billy. Good night.

He chuckled at the casual nature of your response. That was your thing, wasn’t it? When he was feeling tense and all kinds of fucked up, you calmed him down by simply being you. Fuck, he missed you. Five more days before he saw you again, and it felt like an eternity.

Sighing, he got ready for bed.

Day 12 - Friday

Billy was reviewing a stack of proposals his lawyer had sent over when there was a knock on the office door. His first instinct was to tell the person to fuck off but he stopped himself in time; just because he was in a bad mood didn’t mean he got to take it out on others. That was his new goddamn mantra. “Come in.”

The last person he expected to see was you walking through the door.

His heart stopped in his chest, every volatile emotion rushing to the surface at the sight of you. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. You were in a suit which meant you must have rushed over here from work. Because you couldn’t stand being apart from him any longer.

He marched over to you, drawing you in his arms, peppering your face with kisses but you pulled away abruptly. What the fuck? You stepped back from him, putting physical distance between him and you. Twelve days he hadn’t seen you, and, instead of letting him hold you, you were actually pushing him away. Irritation flooded over him, but then he noticed the concerned expression on your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, cradling your face. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” you replied. “But I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Roger told me you were close to signing a contract with Johnny Bosworth’s team. Is that true?”

Roger. Fucking Roger. He hadn’t seen you in twelve days and the first word out of your mouth was goddamn Roger.

“How the fuck does Roger know that?” Billy fired back. He was pissed. Pissed at that prick Roger, and pissed at you that he was the reason you rushed to Anvil to see Billy.

“We were still deciding whether to sign the contract but then someone from Johnny Bosworth’s team reached out to him and said the deal was no longer on the table. They were signing with you. Is that true?”

Jaw clamped, he moved back to his desk and leaned back against it. “Why would I tell you that? This is Anvil business. Has nothing to do with you,” he bit out.

Your eyes flared with anger. “He’s an asshole and a bigot who encourages mob violence against innocent people!”

Eyebrow raised, he crossed his arms. “Just because I work with him doesn’t mean I agree with his politics.” He dipped his head to the side, glaring at you with hostility. “You and I don’t interfere with each other’s work. That’s your rule. So why the hell are you sticking your nose into mine?”

Lips pursed, you stared at him for a long while. “I was offered a promotion. Vice-President of the European market. Taking the job would’ve meant moving to Paris.”

It was like a punch to the gut, the pain sharp and unbearable. You were leaving him. It was his worst nightmare come to life. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, overwhelmed by panic.

“I turned it down because it meant being away from you. But you, you decided to take on a client that actually tells his idiot followers to kill people who look like me. I bet that never weighed in your mind at all, did it? Not even for a second. Shows how important I am to you.” A bitter laugh escaped you. “Must be nice to be rich and white so you never have to worry about shit like this.”

Before he could wrap his mind around your words, you stormed out.

Part 24

A/N - If you have the time to leave feedback, it would be highly appreciated! As always, thank you for reading and supporting the fic. As some of you know, I’m contemplating a sequel. The major plot point is mapped out but the little details are still being worked out in my mind.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo x you #a woman scorned

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

Text

[15.08] badboy!seonghwa × reader

⇀ had you known that's why he confessed, would you have accepted him ? Or smack his annoyingly perfect face with your laptop ?

⇁ part 1 / 2

⇁ prologue part 1 / 2 / 3

Things had gone great between you and Seonghwa. You and he would often meet at your dorm or at the diner at least three times a week.

You'd ask him why you both never hung at his dorm but his answer was that he doesn't want the boys to disturb your 'quality time'.

Normally you'd question answers like that, but the way he looks at you and holds your hand made you forget why you even wanna ask that in the first place.

But like all things, everything dissipates with time.

Nearing the end of the semester, group projects lessen and solo assignments accumulate which put a strain between your and Seonghwa's hangout time. You've tried convincing him that you both can hang out whilst doing your solo assignments but you remembered how his eyes trailed after a girl as you spoke at one of your last hangouts at the diner.

Seems like he's lost interest in you too.

Which, it sure hurts, but you both were never official and neither had verbally confirmed to the other about their feelings. It sucks.

But you power through.

You pretend that his silence during class's group discussion didn't affect you, you pretend that when he immediately pack up his stuff to leave the class and only throwing you a polite smile didn't make your heart wrench, you pretend that him ghosting you didn't make you feel both embarrassed and angry at the same time.

You're light and breezy.

Heck, you're so light and breezy, you still go to that diner every Friday all alone. And it's not because you had hoped to see one particular man.

Even though you did.

When he was on a date with some girl who's obviously very pretty.

On the booth you both had 'claimed' as 'your booth' without ever verbally saying it.

"Hi, excuse me," a voice broke your train of thoughts.

You look up from your book to see a really handsome man standing in front of you with a smile on his face. He looks very handsome, definitely mixed-race, and he has this chill aura on him that is honestly refreshing to you.

"Sorry to bother you, but can I sit here?" He asked. You look around to see that there are a lot of other places left in the library where he could've sat.

Sensing your apprehension, the man raised both of his hands, "I'm not a creep or a weirdo, I'm just very particular about where I work,"

He's got a point. So you just nodded, "sure, it's not my table or anything anyways, you could've just taken a seat without asking my permission," he shrugged as he put his things across you, "I mean sure, but you seemed like you don't wanna be bothered and this particular spot has the best walking distance to anywhere at all and plus the secret charging port? Genius," he said, grinning proudly.

You raised your eyebrows at him, "you seem to know your way around the table, mister..." you trailed off to which he immediately caught on, "Hansol, Choi Hansol, but my friends calls me Vernon," he held his hand out for you to shake, "(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and why Vernon?" "My english name, I'm half American,"

And with that, you got yourself a new friend.

Vernon is a computer science major, and the other thing major about him is his nerdiness. And his hotness. Which is a ridiculous combination.

Ever since that day in the library, you both somehow find the other popping up everywhere. Just a day after your first meeting in the library, he came into the café you part-timed at. He came in to order 13 drinks and several pastries, shocking you at first but then he told you he lives in a frat house with 12 other guys and that he's not a caffeine addict.

Then you both bonded over the many sessions in the library which eventually venture out to sitting together during lunch, and then suddenly you both started meeting outside campus.

And this did not go unnoticed by Seonghwa.

"Hey, Seonghwa, how well do you know (Y/N)?" Hongjoong asked, breaking Seonghwa's glare on you and Vernon from all the way across the cafeteria.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at him, "(Y/N) from my statistics class?" As if he hadn't considered you as something more at some point, "I'd say well enough as a groupmate, why?" He asked back.

Hongjoong nodded towards you and Vernon with his chin, "Vernon there saw you both working together and he wants to make sure he won't be stepping on anyone's toes when he's making a move on her,"

At that moment, Seonghwa almost choked on his fries. Too surprised with the fact that you've possibly moved on from him so quickly.

It's only been a month and a half since you both stopped hanging out outside of obligation.

Hearing that made his blood boil and he's pretty sure it's not jealousy. Most likely territorialism. HE took interest in you first waaaaay before Vernon did.

The smile and laugh you give Vernon was supposed to be for him. He used to make you laugh so hard at any stupid pun he concocted in his head. No matter how stupid it is nor how much it doesn't make any sense.

To be completely honest, he didn't know why he pulled away from you in the first place. He had been so comfortable with you, never once had he ever let his guard down and just be carefree, not even with his closest friends.

He needs to get you back to him.

No matter what.

So he made his move the next time you both had statistics again.

Unlucky for him though, the professor decided to not have any group discussion that day which threw Seonghwa's plan out the window. But thankfully he still remembered your schedule, you don't have any class after statistics which means you'd be grabbing a simple lunch before your part-time job starts until 8 pm.

So he waited patiently for the bell to ring.

Legs bouncing in anticipation as his eyes flit towards the clock every five minutes.

When the professor finally dismissed the class (10 minutes later than he's supposed to, as per usual), he immediately put all his belongings back in his bag and ran after you. Somehow you've mastered the art of cleaning up quickly over the month and a half without him.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" Seonghwa called.

You stopped in your tracks and turn your head to see Seonghwa jogging towards you with that stupid, charming smile on his face.

Damn his good looks.

"Yeah? Is there something wrong?" you asked him when he caught up to you. He raised an eyebrow at you, confused as to why you'd think there'd be anything wrong.

"Ah!" you suddenly exclaimed, "Is this about my part of the presentation? Don't worry, I'm close to finishing it, I should be able to compile it in the PPT tonight by... 9.30-ish? I have to finish my shift at the café," you explained.

He chuckled at you, deep voice that you oh so missed ringing in your ears, "wha- no, (Y/N), I'm not here to talk about our project, I just wanna... talk with you," he said, tilting his head to the side slightly. It somehow made him look both hot and cute at the same time. Which doesn't make sense.

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him while crossing your arms, "why? No offence, Seonghwa, but you've kinda been blowing me off for the past month and a half now, what makes you think I'd have anything to talk with you about?"

Those words coming out of your mouth shocked him. It's not like he didn't expect some apprehension from you, but hostility? Boy, you must've been really affected by his shitty doings.

"I-I- no, (Y/N), I haven't been blowing you off," bullshit, even he knows that, "I've just been really-" "really... what? Absent? Ghosty? Hot and cold? Whatever it is, Seonghwa, you don't owe me any explanation," you tried your best to not roll your eyes at him because honestly, how dare he blew you off and now acting like he didn't whilst hoping you don't notice what he has been doing.

What did he take you for? One of his brainless bimbos?

Surprised at your words, Seonghwa was left stunned. You waited for a solid 10 seconds for him to say something. Anything.

Literally, how hard is it to say sorry?

Realizing he wouldn't realize what he's supposed to do, you just shook your head at him, "I'll finish inputting and editing my part by tonight, I'll see you in class next week, Seonghwa," you said before walking away.

You would've thought that he'd take the hint and go back to ignoring you.

But now, of course not. He's stubborn and he plays by his own rules. It's an understatement to say that you were shocked when you saw him entering the café nearing the end of your shift.

Despite the shock of seeing him, you pretended like nothing's wrong and do what you're supposed to do to any other customer as per usual.

Heck, you'd give yourself a pat on the back, head, and butt for being so calm whilst handling Seonghwa. You managed to keep that "strictly professional" smile on your face as you take his orders, you didn't fumble when he made small talks as you typed in his orders into the computer (like really, who the heck said "good thing tonight's not cloudly, love the moonlight," ??), and you didn't flinch when your hands accidently touch as you hand him his strawberry frappucino.

Yes, the badboy strictly and secretly drink sweet, fruity drinks.

You'd thought that his presence was merely a coincidence. As he waited in his table, you had assumed that he's waiting for some girl (who isn't you, sadly) so all you wanna do is run out of there as soon as you can.

"Hey, Jaemin," you called your co-worker who's in the middle of sipping his 6 shot americano at 8 pm, "I'm gonna head out, okay? Think you can hold the fort until Yena's here? She said she has to turn in an assignment, that's why she's late,"

Jaemin just rolled his eyes at you, "(Y/N), I'm drinking coffee that's powerful enough to paralyze a horse, I can definitely handle the slow Wednesday night crowd," he said sarcastically to which you laugh.

After getting your things from your locker in the back room, you proceed to go out through the front door.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had followed behind.

You were only several steps away from the café when suddenly Seonghwa caught up to you and grab your hand.

Knowing that it's quite late and it's dark, Seonghwa should've known better. You honestly only feel slightly bad for punching his chest.

Slightly.

Like 2%.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Seonghwa you scared the devil out of me!" You exclaimed after realizing that it was just him, pulling your hand away from his grip. He coughed, trying to ease oxygen back to his lungs after you had brutally knocked them out.

"Guess I deserved that," he coughed out, but he was smirking as if he's amused by your attack, "sorry, I was just- I need to talk to you," he said, looking at you pleadingly.

"Well, it doesn't seem like that for the past month and a half, Seonghwa, you seemed just about done with me," you said while crossing your arms, your expression showing nothing but disdain at him. He seems to feel remorse after seeing how you looked at him. Never once did you showed any negativity nor hostility to him during the time you both spent together.

Seonghwa didn't really know what made him pull away from you. All he was sure of is that he felt something so strongly about you to the point that it scared him so much. He never felt the need to be with someone as much as when he was with you. He found himself thinking about you when you're both not together, he found himself only focusing on you and nothing else when you both are together, and he found his vulnerabilities open for you to access.

It scared him to hell and back when he realizes that there is a possibility of him wanting something more from you.

With you.

The man before you sighed, "I... Have no excuse for how I acted recently but believe me when I said that I regret pulling myself away from you because I'm scared, you're too good to and for someone like me, you deserve the best and I wanna be the best for you," he stepped closer to take both your hands in his, his eyes were genuine which rendered you incapable of being too mad at him, "I wish I could rewind the time and take back what I did, I never should have pulled away from you, I should have just told you the truth," he said.

For a second, he forgot about his image and he just let whatever he was feeling out, he wanted to make sure that you understand how he truly feels.

Both of you stood in silence, just staring at each other as he rubs his thumb on the back of your hand. With the way you're staring at him now, he was sure that your initial resolve had completely melted.

But suddenly from his peripheral vision, he saw Vernon coming out of a bookstore across the road and was looking around.

Remembering what prompted him to get closer to you again, he pulled you in close into his arms, a hand to your cheek and lips just centimetres away from his.

"So? Would you please give me another chance to show you how much you mean to me? Not as just some guy from your statistics class," his words made you chuckle and roll your eyes, "but as your boyfriend," he said before he could stop himself.

Your eyes widened, "m-me? With y-you? Boyfriend and girlfriend?" you choked out, not believing your ears in the first place. You wanted to make sure that he's not kidding, making a joke or making a fool out of you.

Instead of answering, however, he simply leaned in and places his lips softly on yours. The kiss was sweet, it conveyed how much he wants and misses you. For some reason it made you feel comforted, he feels like home and his arms makes you feel safe.

So then and there, you kiss him back as a form of an answer to him.

When you both finally pull away, you both could see dumb smiles decorating the other's face, proof of happiness over what just happen.

Remembering that you're in the middle of the road and there are people around you, you pulled away from his arms first but reached to tangle your hand in his.

"Come on, I believe I owed my groupmate my part of the presentation," you started as you walk, pulling him with you.

But as you walk, you turn your head at him to throw a flirty smirk, "boyfriend" you said, making him grin so wide, it could rival a Cheshire cat.

Maybe you and he isn't a bad idea at all.

All you can do now is hope that he won't break you.

#ateez #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #timestamp #ateez timestamp #ateez au #kpop boys #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #seonghwa #park seonghwa #smt #smt timestamp #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #kpop au

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 22 | S.R.)

Summary: Things are changing for the better. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Difference, Sub Drop, vague mentions of trauma/dissociation, PTSD (mostly comfort) Word Count: 7.25k

MASTERLIST

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The dulcet, bustling sounds of the Dulles International Airport were more soothing than I expected. Normally, the massive crowds and constant barrage of information would make my brain go into overdrive, but there was something about Spencer being there that made it all turn to white noise. If I had to guess, I would say it was the feeling of trusting someone to take care of you.

I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Hey, I got you something.”

Even then, when he’d approached me from behind and gingerly placed the bag on my lap, I barely even flinched. I smelled the contents of the bag before I noticed the logo or managed to open it, but once I confirmed it was what I thought it was, my eyes immediately teared up.

“Oh my god,” I keened, pulling out the familiar blue cup holding a much too sweet, much too large cinnamon bun. Although my mind was running with a million things to say to express just how appreciative I was, I took a bite out of it before I said anything else.

“I love you so much,” I mumbled around a mouth full of pastry.

Spencer tried to respond, but after one glance at me, fingers and face already covered in frosting after only a few seconds, he burst out laughing.

“You’re a complete mess,” he chastised, trying to cluck his tongue but failing in his laughter.

I just smiled back, not even bothering with the plastic utensils and enjoying the indulgence with absolutely childlike joy. It wasn’t even just the sugar or my fingers pressing into the warm, sticky dough that made the morning seem so much better; it was the way Spencer watched me.

With one arm leaned against the chair, his whole body was turned towards me. It was clear from the slightly glassy look in his exhausted eyes that he was also stuck trying to find the right words to say to express just how grateful he was that we could still have moments like that.

Those same eyes roamed over my figure with such an overtly intimate gleam that it almost made me blush. If he’d touched me, I definitely would have. But he kept his hands to himself, and eventually, buried them into his carry-on bag. I didn’t even look at what he was doing, too lost in the sweetness of being cared for.

That foolhardy trust was a mistake. Because, it turned out, Spencer Reid was a monster.

Without any warning at all, a cold wet wipe was dragged over my cheeks. I flinched back, only to find Spencer’s hand holding onto my head and stopping me from turning away. The madman even had the audacity to smile as he gingerly wiped the frosting from my cheeks and chin. Of course, considering the fact I was thrashing wildly away from him, it ended up mostly on my lips.

“Pfftbtb! Spencer!” I spit and whined, earning confused looks from basically everyone in the vicinity. What they would find when they looked over was him in a fit of laughter, continuing to try and clean my face, which was still covered in sugary frosting despite his best efforts to remove it.

“I thought you enjoyed the taste of alcohol,” he teased.

“First of all, no one does, and second—” I started, only to be cut off with a kiss over my much too clean mouth. I smiled, but only because it used to be my move. I wondered when exactly the tables had turned, and it became his job to shut me up with a kiss.

“I know,” he whispered, licking his lips just to cringe at the taste he’d forced on me, “I’m just joking.”

I decided then that the sight and shared disgust for ethyl alcohol were enough for me to forgive him for the time being. I let him clean the rest of the evidence of my greed from my face but decided to clean my fingers myself. I popped each one into my mouth in what I’d imagined was a very non-sexual manner, but Spencer still seemed to enjoy watching me as each digit was cleaned. Granted, he handed me another wipe seconds later. Damn germaphobe. Like he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth on a daily basis.

The rest of the treat was shared between us, with utensils this time, in a relative quiet. Brief giggles or sighs were all there was to be said. Once there was nothing left to fixate on, I was left only with my thoughts and Spencer’s eyes that still watched me like a horribly affectionate hawk.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled without realizing. I’d almost hoped he wouldn’t even hear it, or let it go without a conversation, but of course, he couldn’t do that.

“For what?”

“For making you do all of this,” I explained with a heavy sigh, “I feel like a big baby.”

Spencer’s hands came to brush away the stray strands of hairs from my face. They weren’t actually in the way of anything; I think he just wanted to make a better view. That alone was enough to make me smile, but that only seemed to make him feel guilty.

“Don’t apologize for this. This is my fault,” he said just as quietly. I mirrored his motion, running my fingers through his hair and watching as his mouth dropped open in a pleased smile.

“No, it’s not. You’re wonderful,” I said through my own. It was only a little bit sadder than his, but wasn’t that usually the case? I could only imagine what would happen the day we were both overflowing with nothing but joy. Before, that thought might lead me back to the bank, the place that ended our last purely happy encounter, but…

I looked at Spencer, with his mouth still slightly open and his head lolling back and forth with the little weight of my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything bad. So I just thought of the picnic, instead. I thought of him licking my hand as we rolled in grass, and of his own hands working through my hair to make it into something besides a mess on my head.

I looked at Spencer, and I saw beautiful things. And the longer I played with his hair, the more relaxed and content he became. Of course, I would never be satisfied. His smile was the most beautiful thing to see, and I needed it to deal with the guilt still sitting like rocks in my stomach.

“Besides, it’ll be so much easier putting down my work and actually getting sleep when you’re waiting for me,” Spencer slurred, his neck relaxing to drop the weight of his head against my palm.

“I hope not too easy. The world needs you, Dr. Reid,” I kindly reminded.

His eyes fluttered open, trapping me in dark honey irises filled with pure adoration. “You need me, too,” he whispered.

“Arrogant bastard.”

Naturally, he took it as a compliment, his smile growing into a smirk as he answered, “A little bit.”

He should have known better than to give me that look, though, because within seconds my hands fell from his hair. A small whimper came from the pitiful man at the loss. It was quickly followed by a sharp inhale when my hand grabbed his thigh.

“You think I’ll actually let you sleep?” I whispered.

Aside from the obviously tense quadriceps beneath my palms, Spencer showed very little response to my suggestion. Well, rather, he showed little arousal to it. There was a reaction— just not the one I expected.

He looked... nervous.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that...”

“What?” I shot back immediately, my hands withdrawing and tugging on my shirt while I instinctively tried to hide from him. I was trying to look less guilty, but I was acutely aware that my actions screamed the opposite. So, I tried to combat my obvious anxiety with a voice that was far louder than it needed to be. “I swear I’m on all my medications. I haven’t missed a single therapy appointment, either!”

Spencer’s hands were gentle and cautious when they came to my wrists, gently pulling them away from my chest. “I know. I trust you,” he said with a sad but still genuine smile, “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted to handle this.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of me in the least convincing manner. Spencer was too smart to fall for them, although I could see a playfulness bloom through his features.

“No offense, but you just cried over a cinnamon bun,” he said, unable to stop a few chuckles from mixing with the words.

“It was just really good, okay?” I scoffed, tearing my hands away from him and feigning offense despite his little disclaimer. From there, I sank down in the shitty airport chair and refused to look up at him. I could still feel his cheeky, arrogant little grin watching me.

Eventually, after I thought we’d suffered enough and I could already feel my legs going numb, I weakly conceded, “Fine. What are my options?”

“Well, basically anything. But the main thing to consider is...”

He paused. It was one of the sure signs that he was taking the situation very seriously. Usually, he would just spout out whatever came to mind and sort out the details later. But this time, he spoke slowly and purposefully. “Majority of our relationship has been based on physicality. Whether it was sex or healing or hurting and I... I want to give you the option to not do that. At least, not for a little while.”

A feeling of dread filled my blood that I could suddenly hear rushing through my ears. I didn’t tell my heart to beat faster, but it did. My hands that had once again crossed over my chest suddenly itched to hold him.

“Why would I not want to?” I asked, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt and occasionally glancing up at him only to realize that he wasn’t looking at me, either. I tried not to read into it. After all, he was the profiler— not me.

“It’s not a matter of avoiding it. I just need you to know it’s not expected of you.”

Without shifting my body at all, my eyes were glued to him. The strain of the angle and the sound of those words caused them to burn, but I refused to let tears fall again. He wasn’t rejecting me, right? He was telling me that he loved me. There was no reason to be scared.

I wasn’t used to that yet, either. But I wanted to be. And judging by the way his hand cupped my face and guided it back to his, I think Spencer felt those anxieties. He tried to will them away by pressing his forehead against mine and letting his thumb ghost over flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be scared. I just need you to know that we don’t have to have sex for you to be worth my time and attention.”

The tears grew bigger under his scrutiny, but they didn’t fall until he closed his eyes. I think that was why he did.

“I love you,” he assured me with a whisper, “I’m not going to deny you affection or intimacy if that’s what you want. I just need you to know that it is always an option.”

Normally when Spencer pulled away, the air felt cold in his absence. For so long, my body had felt lonelier and less than without him. But in that busy, bustling airport, I felt just as loved even when his hands fell away and he sat back up in his chair.

For those who might’ve been watching, they would just see two lovesick idiots whispering sweet nothings in a flagrantly public display of affection. They wouldn’t have heard the weight of the words or felt the way my perception of the whole world shifted from them.

Spencer smiled again, still nervous, but also clear and authentic.

“I’m sorry,” he told me with his eyes fixated on my hands in my lap. He made no move to hold it, although I could tell he wanted to. I suspect he wanted me to focus on the words, so I tried my hardest. I almost asked him what he was sorry for, but he answered first, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

A lump quickly formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. When that failed, and I felt the telltale signs of tears filling the sides of my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of to hide. I threw my arms around the only thing that never failed to make them better. I buried my face in Spencer’s neck and laughed along with him as my eyelashes and breath tickled the soft skin.

After a brief second of listening to our hearts settle into a matching rhythm and letting our body heat sink into the clothes between us, Spencer groaned, “How are you still sticky?”

—————————————————

A couple weeks prior, the thought of being alone in a hotel room waiting on Spencer to finish work for the day would have instilled the fear of God in me. I would have done just about anything to avoid the exact situation I found myself in now.

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. It was the perfect opportunity for me to force myself to slow down. Granted, that mostly just meant that I would watch bad TV in a bathrobe with overpriced food, but... like they say, change is as good as a rest.

The hardest part about it was actually just convincing myself that I deserved the rest. While I was taking naps and trying to do anything to unwind, I knew what Spencer was doing.

Well, I had some idea of what he was doing. Reality was probably worse than my imagination— it usually was with his job. At first, I had let that guilt get in the way, but at some point over the nine hours, I realized that I would have to find a way to cheer myself up. Because as soon as I heard that small beep of the keycard, I would have to find a way to remind him of all the beautiful things in the world.

No pressure, right?

The sun had already started to set, and I hadn’t heard from him in hours. We’d started the day out with a constant line of contact, but over time he became too busy. Which, again, just meant that I would have to work even harder when he finally arrived.

Luckily for me, by the time Spencer had arrived, there was no need for a pep talk or acting of any kind. My heart immediately started to race the second I heard his voice down the hall. I had already bolted from the bed and positioned myself just far enough from the door that I could jump forward the second it opened far enough to fit me.

And when it did, I pounced.

“Spencer!” I cheered, throwing myself into his arms that had fully been expecting me. Still, the two of us crashed back against the frame and I heard the breath be knocked out of him from the impact.

“Hey, little girl,” he managed to laugh with empty lungs that made it impossible to forget how tired he was. His arm eventually settled at my lower back, lifting me slightly so he could move us from the door’s path. But when we were out of harm’s way and the latch clicked softly in place, Spencer didn’t let me go. In fact, he tossed his bag into the chair at the desk and wrapped his other arm around me, too.

“How was work?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“You know...” he muttered with a crackling voice, “awful.”

If that hadn’t given it away, the way he buried his face in my neck certainly did. His hands were even more insistent, pressing into my back as he led us both to the bed.

I had to laugh, though, as the realization dawned on him that he’d have to let go of me if he didn’t want to track filthy shoes in our bed. A heavy sigh fell from his lips when he finally released me, practically throwing me onto the terrible mattress before taking his seat next to me.

“I missed you,” I announced in the ambient noise of the cheapest hotel that the government could justify using.

Spencer looked up at me, but the words took a little longer to register. I could only imagine how busy his mind must’ve been, and the guilt quickly came creeping back.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, albeit with a tint of sadness in his tone. But the longer we stayed there, the calmer he seemed. It was such a powerful effect of our proximity that by the time he did lay down next to me, he seemed like the man that had wiped frosting from my face in the middle of a busy airport.

Spencer must have noticed the shift, too, because no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he had flipped over, throwing his leg over me to pin me down against the bed.

My initial reaction was to keep laughing, but the noises were muffled by the persistent kisses he gave. They started at my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose but landed on my lips. I felt the tension leave his shoulders as he lowered more of his body weight against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his presence.

“God, I needed this,” he growled just before his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Everything we’d talked about at the airport felt a lifetime away, and as soon as I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh, I only had one goal in mind. I forced my hands between us, trying to remove his tie with the hope that it would shed some of the thoughts he’d brought back from work.

But then it all stopped. Spencer had pulled away, grabbing onto my wrist and pinning it to the bed beside me once more.

“No, we don’t need to do that. I just wanted to kiss you,” he panted through heavy breath and swollen lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them long enough to answer, but it was clear from the look on his face that any plea I gave would be for naught, anyway. “I’m honestly way too exhausted to give you the attention you deserve.”

I believed him. Even when he hadn’t slept for nearly two days, he still looked livelier then. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with sleep and more to do with emotions. I wanted to help him with that, too, like he did for me, but I didn’t know how. So, I did the only thing I did know how to do well, which was to place a soft peck against his lips until they turned up into another smile.

“Get some rest, old man,” I murmured, “I’ll be here to kiss again when you wake up.”

“Let me hold you,” he answered immediately, nuzzling his face against my neck like a puppy seeking any shred of attention. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because of the way his hair tickled or because it was so strange to see him so vulnerable while still in dominant, albeit disheveled, work clothes.

“Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

Continuing the trend of being remarkably adorable, Spencer giggled as he rolled onto his side. I was almost tempted to turn towards him, but he had already wrapped his arms around me before I could decide. He pulled me as close as he could before his lips once again settled against the column of my throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he stated absently. It was so quiet that I’m not sure he’d actually planned on me hearing it. But when I reached a hand up to run through his hair, he spoke with a shaky, relieved whine, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

A gentle, warm exhale breezed over my skin as he continued, “I love you so much.”

From that point, any words he might’ve whispered were muffled through sloppy, sleepy kisses over my neck and shoulder. His hands, though slow, were still rough and purposeful as they pawed at me in a way that was only vaguely sexual. It was more like he was trying to prove to himself that he was actually here with me, and my breasts just happened to be the first thing he could grab.

That still didn’t stop my mind from running wild. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I focused on the way his breath felt against areas still wet from his kisses. And when I arched my back, I felt his hips press harder.

Eventually, when I could trust myself to speak without whimpering, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to...”

I peeked back at him before continuing, having noticed a lull in his kisses. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, his lips still attached to my shoulder. I had to chuckle at the sight, but my heart did hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must have been to fall asleep then, and still in his clothes, much less.

The guilt over being the main cause of his tiredness was enough to keep me still for at least two hours. I spent that time slowly inching to a more comfortable position, only to be squished seconds later by Spencer. Even in his sleep, it seemed he was terrified of the prospect of me slipping from his arms. He was just being dramatic, though. It’s not like I had anywhere to go.

Wait, that sounded wrong. Truthfully, there were many places I could go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with Spencer, tangled in his long limbs and tickled by his hair that had grown long enough to gracelessly flop onto my face regardless of position.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to leave at all.

But I did. Inch by inch, I carefully slipped from Spencer’s arms. Against all odds, I managed to maneuver through the death grip he had on me and plop down on the ground beside the bed. My mind found that to be the perfect time to recall the lecture he’d given me about how suitcases, and more specifically, their wheels, were the most dangerous bacteria-laden aspects of traveling, but I dismissed the thought shortly after I stood again.

I didn’t want to leave Spencer’s embrace. I’m not really sure why I did. There wasn’t even really a particularly angsty reasoning for it. I just had this feeling, this tingling on my skin and a weight in my stomach that told me I was meant to be doing something different.

The only problem was that I had literally no idea what the fuck that something different was.

So, naturally, I did what every young child does when their parents had grown tired of their restless children jumping on the hotel bed. I grabbed the keycard and the ice bucket and set out on a very thrilling journey to find the vending room. The first part was the hardest. It was shutting the door to return the room to darkness, knowing that Spencer was alone in bed.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. I slipped from the room into the horrible yellow lighting of the halls with the dizzying wallpaper and patterned carpet without another thought. I’d hoped that the walk might bring me answers to the mood I was currently wrestling with, but I was wrong. Because it basically only took me three doors to find the room that I was looking for.

Great.

I threw the door open haphazardly, actually contemplating grabbing the ice and returning to bed no wiser than I had left it. But when the door swung shut behind me, the humming from the machines bled into my brain and started to cover all the other thoughts. It was warmer than my room, as well as smaller and quieter. Of course, it was also remarkably less private, but it was also like 2am. If someone came in to find a strange girl sitting on the floor next to the ice machine, that was their own fault.

In a strange way, it was the most peaceful I’d been in a long time. As much as I loved being with Spencer, these circumstances made it hard for me to not feel like I didn’t belong. Probably because I didn’t. He was here on work, a life that he’d tried very hard to keep away from me. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I was sure he’d gotten a number of questions from Morgan and Garcia about my presence, but he hadn’t shared them with me. I’d even asked him, just so I could concoct my own retaliatory questions for the nosiest of them, but he just laughed the question away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just the realization that Spencer had a life of his own and I was just starting to see it for the first time. I was learning so much about him and honestly… None of it was bad. Most of it was just downright silly. Things like prank wars and physics magic and careful, chemistry-based improvements to shitty coffee. I was just too busy realizing that I was falling even more in love with Spencer to notice anything else.

Including, apparently, the sound of the door to the room opening. Trust me when I say that was saying a lot; the presence of Aaron Hotchner was not easy to miss.

“Can I join you?” His voice filled the room despite its low volume, and I followed the sound with a small smile that grew at the sight of him in casual clothing. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it sure did make him less intimidating than our previous encounters.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled the still-empty ice bucket into my lap. Once he took his seat beside me, I rolled my head toward him to try and figure out what exactly he had planned. But after another few seconds of silence, I realized that he was doing the same thing I was.

Improvising.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, insistent that it wasn’t my job in this scenario to come up with the advice.

Hotch seemed equally lost, and with a slight shake of his head, he explained, “I only heard the door open once. Figured it was worth a trip to get some ice to check.”

He held up his matching ice bucket, to which I lifted mine to knock together like the worst kind of toast. It at least succeeded in making him laugh, although the sound was short-lived. We both recognized the shoddy attempt at humor was just masking the things I didn’t want to talk about.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

He had never really been a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy.

“Freakin’ profilers,” I affectionately muttered back, which only earned me a playful warning glance that I, for once, didn’t choose to ignore. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s probably the 3-hour nap I took when we got here.”

Then, deciding that still didn’t describe the situation well enough, I tagged on, “You know, while you all were working and saving the world and what not.”

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of the BAU: Do not ever speak poorly about yourself. Not even an implication.

“Rest is important. No reason for you to suffer for us,” he returned without pause.

“You sound like Spencer,” I said through a half-hearted laugh.

Hotch shared my laughter, causing them both to grow in volume as he snarkily replied, “And who do you think taught him?”

“Right. Sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender, but we both knew it would be harder than that.

But that was okay. He came prepared.

“So, what else is wrong?”

“So persistent, you lot,” I chuckled. I half expected him to let it go, but he just turned to stare at me with that usually stoic face contorted with an obvious reprimand. I swear, I didn’t even realize his eyebrows could move that far. But there were, raised up his forehead as his cheeks dimpled from his little, knowing smirk.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Just thinking about things and I was scared I would wake up Spencer. Like he would feel my anxiety in his sleep.”

“What’s making you anxious?”

I paused. For a moment, I thought about lying. Not the kind of transparent lie that you do when you say that everything is fine. The kind of lie that also contained the truth. There were many things that had happened lately that would explain my anxiety, and they would be believable enough because I did still feel them.

“Everything. You know. The usual,” I said softly, attempting to stall.

Because that wasn’t what the problem was that day. The problems that day were… complicated in a different way than the usual angst. So, I let the thoughts marinate for a moment, considering the different outcomes and deciding which I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself want things in a while. Maybe that realization was why I decided to just tell him the truth, despite how embarrassing it felt.

“It’s not bad anxiety, necessarily. It’s just this realization that… I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” he pressed, feeling the hesitance as I stood at the brink of what I really wanted to say. The real answer to why I was sitting on the floor of an ice machine vending room with my boyfriend’s boss, who also happened to be our shared adoptive father figure.

I took a deep breath, clutching onto the ice bucket so tightly that my knuckles blanched and the edges imprinted on my hand until I blurted out, “That I think I’m ready for something else. Something more.”

We both stopped then, enjoying the noises of machinery and the barely-there echo of my words.

“Something more, huh?” he repeated more clearly.

I didn’t appreciate the way the words were practically sung through a clever grin, and before he could take that train of thought any further, I stopped him with an answer too loud to not be deemed defensive.

“Not like that! Not like, let’s run off and elope and have lots of babies tomorrow!“ He didn’t look convinced, so I continued with a much more believable promise. “Don’t worry, I’m not sniping your genius.”

“Thank goodness,” he replied sarcastically. I appreciated his ability to keep things lighthearted, and for a second I did have to laugh at the fact he was such a different person when he wasn’t at work. He must’ve taught Spencer more than I realized. And, in turn, Spencer was teaching me. I just wasn’t sure when the lesson would be over, or if it had already ended.

“I’ve just held onto my independence and this… heavy bullshit for so long, and I’m a little worried about what that means,” I thought aloud.

Again, Hotch had read my mind, or at least, my body language, and demanded the answer he saw written across my features. “What do you think it means?”

“Do you always give fatherly advice like this to whiny girls in ice machine rooms?” I shot back with my first attempt at a glare. It only lasted until he flashed me a toothy smile and his own clever retort.

“No. Now answer the question.”

“I had to try,” I grumbled, only to be shut down again in an instant.

“I’ll forgive you when you answer.”

With a begrudging sigh, I tried to do what he asked. But I only barely got through one word before they turned to a lump in my throat. I choked on the words strongly enough that tears I hadn’t anticipated began pooling on my eyelashes. The power of a profiler, I guess, to know I was on the verge of an emotional catharsis before I did.

“I know we all change. I know that no one stays the same. We all go through things and they change who we are. And that can be good, right? But…”

Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop, turning and tumbling from clumsy lips still chapped from incessant biting. But teeth and willpower couldn’t stop the feelings that caused them, and if Spencer had taught me anything, he’d taught me that speaking a feeling into existence was half of the battle to let it go.

“But sometimes it’s gotta just be bad, right? Like, we’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes we change in an irreparable way that’s just bad for no reason.”

“Right,” he very eloquently returned. Normally, I would have bullied him for giving such a simple response to such a complex question, but at that moment I was just grateful that I could continue. Heaven knows Spencer wouldn’t have let me.

“So, what if that happened to me? What if one day I wake up and finally find out the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself?”

When I turned to the man then, I saw a genuine confusion for the first time that night. I couldn’t tell you where I’d lost him, but it was clear that he heard something in me that alerted him that some deeper rooted issues were just now finding the light of day.

Of course, in this situation, it was really just a flickering fluorescent bulb.

“What question is that?” he whispered, like his voice would intrude in the thoughts.

But the truth was they didn’t feel like they belonged to me, either. That was the problem. I’d spent so long with memories that felt like a dream. I saw them playback when I closed my eyes, just to open them and find the same images reflecting in Spencer’s. I knew they were real because they were written into my skin, yet my mind rioted against them so hard that instead, I just started to think that this body wasn’t mine, either.

“How much of me died that day?”

The question sat with us, taking form in the reflection on the metallic surface that hummed a somehow somber tune. And even though I knew I was looking at myself, it didn’t feel that way. When I saw Hotch move in the background, I turned to him just in time to feel his hand resting over mine on the metal pail in my hands.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

I felt the warmth flow through him, bringing life back into a hand that suddenly started to feel like me again. His voice shared the same rejuvenating quality as he quietly but confidently answered, “I think… it’s much less than you think.”

As tears slid down my face, they felt less like the beginning of a downpour and more like the drizzle that follows the storm. I let them fall without wiping them away, hoping that as they fell away, they would take the fear with them.

After they did drip from my jaw, I laughed. I couldn’t hold it in because it seemed so silly how much lighter I felt after losing just a few droplets of saline. But, realistically, I knew it had more to do with his hand still holding mine.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, selfishly stealing his body warmth as I croaked, “Thanks for talking to me. I know I must sound like a stupid kid to you sometimes.”

“Not at all,” he said with that tone that was difficult to discount, “You sound just like you should.”

“Can I tell you something now?” I asked between sniffles.

“I’d like that,” he mirrored.

“You’re like… a really good dad.”

It was his turn to shed tears, then, which he did. They were much manlier and less silly than mine, but they were there. I almost accused him of creating them just to make me feel less embarrassed, but before I could, he’d enveloped me in a hug that was way too genuine to question it.

As I hugged him back, I realized just how badly I’d missed moments like this. I’d fooled myself into really believing that loneliness and independence were the same things for so long that when I was granted the support all human beings need, I didn’t know how to respond.

But that was the beauty of family, right? You don’t have to try to earn their love. They already thought you were worthy.

So I hugged him harder, ignoring the clanking of the machines and the sounds of crowds of people stumbling back from bars in the hall that could walk in any moment. I wasn’t embarrassed to be sad anymore. I was just a person. It happens sometimes.

“Speaking of, it’s well past your bedtime,” Hotch said finally, gracelessly shattering the moment in a very dad-like fashion.

“I walked into that one.”

Following that trend, he continued with a gentle bump of his shoulder against me, “If you don’t want to go yet, you can talk to me about that something more.”

I practically shoved him off me, huffing between chuckles and shaking my head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice how it flushed.

“Please. Spencer talks about that stuff, but he’s all talk.”

At first, Hotch just nodded. But after a few wayward glances, he confessed, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

That time the warmth I felt came from within, carried by butterflies that had burst in my stomach at the thought. I almost asked him what he meant, but then felt the familiar, creeping embarrassment that came along with loving someone a little too much.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

I knew he was reading my expressions, but I couldn’t hide the smile, no matter how hard I tried. He still had the decency to ignore my blatant displays of excitement, instead asking the question we both knew the answer to already.

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I…” Such a simple syllable still seemed like too much, and I stuttered it a few more times before I landed on an answer that wasn’t too humiliating. “I guess he’ll have to ask and find out.”

“I hope it turns out well when he does,” he said, pausing to correct with a sarcastic, “Sorry. If he does.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed heavily. It was a last ditch effort to hide the way my cheeks were still stuck in a full-faced smile. I turned to see him with a very similar expression.

I knew just how to change that. When he stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and let him do half the work for me. But once we were on equal footing, I placed my hand on his shoulder with a complacent pat.

“You know, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ll have to figure out how to comfort the both of us.”

“The horror,” he jokingly cringed with a shake of his head.

I almost left then, but thankfully he’d remembered the actual purpose for the room we’d had our impromptu surrogate-father-daughter moment in. He grabbed my ice pail from my hand and dropped it under the dispenser without saying anything else, letting the chaotic crunching signal the real end of the moment.

Once it was over, I looked down at the now freezing bucket in my hands that suddenly felt warm. Then I looked back up at him and saw a pride that I wasn’t expecting.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” I said as the last remaining bit of tension fell from my shoulders.

“Goodnight,” he answered, opening the door and watching as I padded down the hall. He waited until I slipped back into my room before his door clicked shut, and mine quickly followed.

That tiny sound was just enough to wake the man in the bed, and when I turned to him, the sight took my breath away. Because there was Spencer, the man I loved, reaching his arms out into the darkness and grabbing the empty air as he whined, begging me to come to him faster.

And I did. Tossing the bucket onto the table, I rushed over to him and threw myself into the bed beside him without any grace. With a similar restlessness, Spencer wound his arms around me as soon as I was within his reach, pulling me as close as he could without sacrificing all the air in my lungs.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against my hair.

“Don’t worry. I’m back,” I whispered back. The words were lost in his shirt, but he somehow heard them well enough to ask, “Where did you go?”

I didn’t know how exactly to describe what had happened, so I told one of those lies I’d contemplated earlier. “To get ice,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was just a very inefficient summary.

Spencer didn’t care, either. In fact, he giggled at the thought, nuzzling his face down into my neck and tickling me with his lips as he mumbled, “Let me warm you up.”

It did succeed in warming me up, but only because it turned into a fit of giggles and more intense tickling. His fingers danced along my sides and his whispers turned back to the same kisses that we’d started the night with.

But it couldn’t last forever. The poor guy still had only had a couple hours of sleep, and I felt the excitement wear off all at once, leaving him only half-awake on the pillow beside me. He still found the energy to look at me like there were stars in my eyes.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again, dragging his hand over my cheek like he could see the tears I’d shed just a few moments before.

“Just ice. I promise,” I answered, ending the thought with a quick kiss on his palm. When I could tell that he didn’t believe that, I brought my hands up to his face as I snickered, “See? Cold hands.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he just leaned forward, letting our noses touch and pulling me in to him again. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could almost see the way his body started to return to sleep as he barely muttered, “No cold feet, though?”

It took me a moment to register the words, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Cold feet for what?” I whispered back.

Spencer’s answer only came in the form of a dreamy laugh. He didn’t open his eyes again, instead choosing to drop his face back into my shoulder just like he had before. This time there were even fewer kisses against my neck before he went still again.

Once again, I was left with my thoughts. Only this time they weren’t scary. Because marrying Spencer Reid was not the worst thing to imagine by far. In fact, there were very few things I’d ever wanted more.

—————————————————

| Part 23 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid request #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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rhetorical-ink · 4 years

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Haikyuu!! SPOILERS: Chapter 401, How We Connect the Dots.

**PENULTIMATE SPOILERS BELOW**

I just posted a video with my live reactions to the chapter, but here are my highlights, because FURUDATE YOU MADMAN GENIUS. This chapter connected so much together. So, let’s do:

My Top 10 Thoughts on Haikyuu!! Chapter 401:

10. Of course. In true Furudate fashion, he has Kageyama block the spike from Hinata, BUT, what Kageyama doesn’t realize is all the training on the beach Shoyo has done to prepare for such a moment. And that heel kick! *swoons* Also, someone reacting to Season 4, Episode 9 of the anime, where Hinata kicks the ball back to himself called this happening all those months ago...Furudate is next level at foreshadowing. Not that we didn’t already know that.

9. Hey, remember how in the VERY FIRST chapter of Haikyuu!! Shoyo did this crazy run across the court to score? Yeah, Furudate knows we remember. And he pulls this -- and Kageyama’s beautiful reaction, only for --

-- Only for it to all be a DECOY. Kageyama, you made this monster, you know. I love that Shoyo has come all this way from wanting to score all the points to accepting that the decoy DOES have a vital role to play, and in this instance, it’s allowing Bokuto to score the winning point for the MSBY Black Jackals. Just look at that smile! And of course, Tanaka and Asahi KNOW the power of Hinata as a Decoy...because they’ve been in Bokuto’s shoes before.

8. UGH, the aftermath of that moment is glorious, which will detail down below -- but I love Shoyo and Kageyama’s interaction, though. How they’re still keeping track of each other’s wins and losses, exhausting Miya, hilariously, and showing that they’re on equal footing now, after all these years. This chapter is just cementing the last several chapters’ worth of character development.

7. ARE YOU SHIPPERS READY FOR YOUR FOOD?!

Because these next few pages were healing my shipper heart. I mean, yes, the Kagehina fanbase is raving right now, but let’s talk about THESE ships below, starting with:

Tsukishima x Yamaguchi:

So, Tsukishima, of course, is not sappy about any of this and just points out how the season’s just getting started (ready the fanfics, y’all).

And of course, Yamaguchi wants to watch Tsuki play! Yachi says she’ll come too! I LOVE how just like he was with Akiteru, he doesn’t want them to come watch (even though we all know he’ll love it when they’re there). Now, some people have commented that Yamaguchi could be with Yachi, but y’all...Yachi is in Tokyo. Yamaguchi and Tsuki both live in Miyagi. I can’t wait for all the Sendai Frog/TsukiYama fanfics!

If you’re looking for an extra Kagehina crumble, just look at the end of this adorable exchange between Romero, smol adorable Rubens, and Shoyo (who perfectly crouches down to talk to him MY HEART I CAN’T), to see Kageyama notice that Shoyo can speak multiple languages...oh, honey! If only you know about Hinata and Pedro’s marathons of DBZ in Portugese and English! ^^

Also, Furudate WE SEE YOU. We see you being meta and implying that now Haikyuu!! is over, he’s moving on...Akaashi’s line about going forward hit me hard...it’s like he’s telling us, the fandom, that going on to start something new isn’t so bad. SO YOU SAY.

BOKUAKA NATION -- WE CANON NOW, RIGHT?!

I love that Akaashi gets to interview Bokuto (IS HE GOING TO BE THE STAR of the Volleyball manga Tenma Udai is writing?! He would be PERFECT for it!) and how happy Akaashi looks, even if he and Bokuto realize how differently they view the term “normal.”

ALSO, it’s implied above that Akaashi, Bokuto, and Tenma were going out for drinks...which now....we know that it’s just Bokuto and Akaashi, since Tenma was going home. Uhm, FAN FIC WRITERS ASSEMBLE!

I also love that Udai joins the club, along with Fukurodani’s coach and manager, of people who realize that Bokuto and Akaashi are weirdos but they are weirdos together, so it’s fine.

Keeping the “Ship Train” going, we get little bits of Shimizu x Yachi from the bathhouse before the Inarizaki Match, where Kiyoko finally acknowledges she is okay showing her legs...thanks to Yachi’s words. I also find Suga wanting to know “the tea” on the situation to be adorable.

AND FINALLY, YES, Y’ALL:

I was spoiled with Kuroo’s return, but seriously, Furudate, you saved him for the end here so INTENTIONALLY.

Because OF COURSE Kuroo would work for the JVA. As a promoter. CONNECTING people...with Volleyball...because that’s the Nekoma way.

And FURUDATE ARE YOU SUGGESTING TO US THAT KUROO AND KENMA ARE BUSINESS PARTNERS AND COLLABORATORS BECAUSE MY KUROKEN HEART IS SOARING --

-- and let it be known Atsumu Miya rightfully doesn’t trust Kuroo, and neither does Sakusa. A nice SakuAtsu crumb where we actually see Sakusa agree with Miya without sacrasm or question! Poor Shoyo is a salesman’s dream, though. I mean, Kuroo does look a little sketchy in some of those shots...BUT....

6. Kuroo’s speech about sports was SO fitting. Seriously, everything he says here is BASICALLY what makes Haikyuu!! such a great series. I DID laugh out loud at the line about “hardly anybody dies.”

*Flashbacks to “Dead Daichi” meme*

5. It’s taken us the ENTIRE series, but Kageyama finally talks to Kindaichi and Kunimi. This was so heartwarming, seeing Kageyama wanting to play WITH THEM. AS A TEAM. This made my heart expand three sizes. The character development on Kageyama, and Kindaichi, is through the roof.

I also LOVE Kunimi the most in these panels. Kunimi is a MOOD.

Y’ALL. I’VE WAITED 400 CHAPTERS FOR THIS PANEL OF THESE THREE HAPPY AND BECOMING FRIENDS AGAIN.

4. I love that Hoshiumi doesn’t see Hinata as a Rival, but as someone that is going to help him show the rest of the world the strength of someone who doesn’t have height. I also find it interesting that we see the Japanese Olympic Coach walking out just as Hoshiumi gives us that beautiful gaze. So...does Hoshiumi know he’s going to be on the Olympic team, with Hinata, maybe? Foreshadowing, perhaps?

3. Okay, okay, I held it together until this page.

It wasn’t Ushijima’s panel with Washijo that got me.

It wasn’t Saeko and Akane reuniting, though that was sweet.

It wasn’t the three “Pure Captains” reuniting, though it made my heart happy.

It honestly wasn’t the five first years together, either. They’re all so happy and having a laugh at Kageyama’s expense, and as beautiful as that panel is.

SUGAWARA IN LINE TO GET KAGEYAMA’S AUTOGRAPH.

That is what got me.

Him in line, so meekly, to get the autograph of his kouhai, the man Suga joked would have to tell about how much he learned from HIM when he was giving out interviews and autographs...I just...Sugawara made me cry. That is all.

2. Then there’s this last page. 2021.

"We overcame difficulties and stand here.”

Furudate really said “screw you” to Covid messing up the timeline.

Yes, seeing Kageyama and Hinata in their original jersey numbers was amazing, but I think we all saw that coming if these two happened to get on the Olympic team.

What I want to focus on are the two countries we see included in the bottom corner here. We see:

Brazil -- and some fluffy haired man carrying the flag for the team.

And we see the United States -- there’s several American Flags and stars and stripes on the shirts of the crowd, there.

SO, HEADCANON TIME:

* Oikawa was on the Argentinean League, so could he play for Brazil? It’s not likely, but not impossible....BUT, I don’t think that’s it.

I don’t think Oikawa is on Japan’s National Team for the Olympics.

If he is on the Olympic Team, I think he’ll be on America’s.

Why? Because, and this could be because I’m the biggest IwaOi shipper, but Iwaizumi was still in the United States with Ushijima’s father at the end of Chapter 395. And if he’s still there, there is no reason why Iwaizumi couldn’t be a physical trainer alongside Ushijima’s father for the U.S. Olympic team. And why wouldn’t Oikawa trek over to the States to be on the same team as Iwa-Chan’s working with? I’m probably wrong, BUT --

We also still need to see Seijoh’s banner, and as others have theorized, how fitting would it be to see Hinata, Kageyama, and (probably) Ushijima on the team facing Oikawa? I just....I’m betting money that Oikawa shows up in 402. I hope we at least see him on the Olympic Stage. OIKAWA DESERVES IT.

1. So, who are we missing that hasn’t been shown yet?

We still need to see the rest of Nekoma (Lev, Yaku, Yamamoto, Kai....could they be in the stands or on the Japan team? I guess we’ll find out!)

We haven’t seen Daishou and Mika -- I would love to see them watching or narrating in the audience during the Olympic game.

And finally, yes, we’ve seen Tendo in the Chapter 395 flashback, but we’ve never seen what he’s DOING. Furudate has shown us with every character what they’ve been doing since the timeskip....EXCEPT TENDO. I’m calling it that he’ll appear one more time next chapter, too.

So....guys....I’m staying off of Social Media from Wednesday to Sunday next week, to prep for the last chapter and not be spoiled. I’m going to do a live reaction for YouTube, and I’ll post it here. You can see the one I did for 401 now.

Furudate, this series has been immaculate. Time for one more round.

Let’s all cry together next week.

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lucy90712 · 3 years

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Dream- face reveal

wc- 1971

Warnings: use of dreams real name

~ I have been friends with this guy on the internet Dream for about 5 years now, we talk all the time but we have never met in person and I have never seen his face. He doesn't show his face on the internet and I've never asked so it just never happened, he knows what I look like all too well because I like sending him stupid selfies and we FaceTime in the middle of the night all the time.

We have been trying to meet in person for years but things keep getting in the way and changing our plans first family issues, then a hurricane and then a whole pandemic. Despite all of this we have finally set a date to meet which is not going to change not for anything or anyone. It's going to be a big day or should I say month, as insane as it sounds I'm going to move in with Dream and Sapnap one of our other friends for a little while to really make this trip worth it even if it only lasts that long.

The process has been difficult because for me to get to Florida I need to get a plane which requires me to get tested before I fly and for my own piece of mind I have been strictly quarantining for the past two weeks but its finally here. I fly out tomorrow morning. I went and got tested yesterday and got my negative result today which I need to get on the plane.

I've been packing all day today because to be there for a month I need a bunch of my set up and cameras so that my content doesn't just stop but then I also need clothes and I can't seem to get both things to fit quite right.

At one point my phone started ringing but there was a mountain of stuff everywhere so I had to dig around to find it and when I did I saw that it was a FaceTime call from Dream, I picked up and immediately put my phone down to get on with my 5th attempt at packing.

"Yo hows it going?" Dream asked

"I'd say pretty average right now I'm super excited for tomorrow but my bag is giving me a hell of a fight" I replied

"Prop your phone up and I'll try and help" he said

I did as I was told and got my small tripod to rest my phone in where you could see what I was looking at. Honestly it was a mess and I was kind of embarrassed but Dream didn't need to know that and besides my face wasn't in frame so he couldn't see how embarrassed I was. I attempted putting everything in a slightly different way to last time which seemed to work until it came to fitting in my tripod and my wash bag of which there was no room for.

"Fuck sake I thought I had it then" I raged slightly

"Ok take out the webcam and forget about the tripod because I have ones that you can use and then try because I think that should give you enough room" he said

"Hell yeah thanks dream" I said after zipping up the suitcase

I flopped back on the floor tired from the minimal amounts of effort I had put in today which just shows how incredibly unfit I am. I recovered before getting up and moving my phone to my desk where I sat to talk to Dream.

We talked for a while until Sapnap came in and I talked to him for a little while, he's been living with Dream for a few months so he warned me about a few things like you don't wake Dream up which I took note of and he told me that Dream will just come and sit in your stream. Eventually they had to leave so I was left on my own to just kind of chill until it was an acceptable time to go to sleep.

Skip to the morning

I woke up at 5am when my alarm went off, I have a love hate relationship with my alarm because I only ever use it when I have something going on which is exciting but the sound makes me want to throw my phone out the window. Despite my annoyance I got up and went straight to the bathroom to shower and get dressed, I thought about wearing something nice but then I realised I had a 5 hour flight and I couldn't bare the thought of being sat down for that long not in comfy clothes. My comfy outfit consisted of leggings and one of my ex boyfriends hoodies because I never gave it back and I'm over it enough to just wear the hoodie whenever I want.

At just before 6 I got in my Uber to head to the airport seeing as my flight was at around 8 it would be wise to get there early. I wasn't sure how busy the airport would be seeing as you aren't meant to travel but I don't think I've ever seen an airport that wasn't busy.

I made it to the airport and as I assumed it wasn't heaving but there was still a fair amount of people around. I made my way through the crowds and checked in for my flight before heading through security and then making it to the main part of the airport. That part was less busy as there is more space for people to spread out into which made me much less anxious about people being too close. I had a little while to wait for my flight so I went and got some food because I haven't eaten today, and I don't want to end up with a headache.

When it was time for my flight to board I went to the gate and got straight into my seat watching as more people boarded but not as many as I expected, it was clear that all of the people on the flight had a good reason to be going to Florida and not just going on holiday and no one was sat together so all rules were being adhered to.

My flight landed 5 hours later and everyone filed off the plane going there own way leaving me kind of lost in a place that I wasn't used to and with the anxiety of going to meet Dream for the first time. I had a bit longer to wait because I had to get an Uber to the house even though dream offered to come and pick me up I told him not to because the less people at the airport the better and just incase people recognised me I didn't want him to accidentally face reveal.

I collected my suitcase and went straight out to the car park to get in my uber who was waiting just outside the doors in the designated area for taxis. As soon as I got in the car I text Dream letting him know I was on my way and sharing my location just in case things went south.

My uber stopped outside this one house and I got out walking up the drive taking in the house number to make sure I was at the right place which I was. Thats when the nerves really kicked in, I was about to meet one of my best friends in person for the first time. This is so insane to think that after all there years we get to do all the stupid things friends do.

I got to the door and rang the doorbell waiting the few excruciating seconds before I heard movement behind it indicating that there was someone there. It opened slowly and the first person I saw was sapnap who of course I was excited to see but we have talked properly on FaceTime before so I already know what he looks like.

Next another person popped up behind pushing sapnap out the way and giving me a hug straight away I knew it had to be dream but he ran over so quick that I didn't get to take in anything other than the fact he was hugging me. He pulled away and I got to look at his face, he looked pretty much exactly how I thought he would from the descriptions I have heard. As much as wavy length doesn't sound like a thing it somehow fit his hair and his eyes were also super green, he was definitely taller than I expected though this man towered over me like it was nothing and could definitely push me to the ground in a second but he looked kind just how you want a friend to be.

After a few minutes of freaking out that this was actually happening they let me inside and gave me a tour of the house showing me my room and the set up they had put together for me with a webcam and tripod just like dream said. They finished off the tour before I was made to sit and play whatever game they wanted with them.

We played an assortment of games for hours on end before we ordered food for dinner which we ate all chilling on the sofa. I almost forgot that my followers didn't know I was here but when I remembered I stole patches from dream and got him to take a picture of me with her to post on twitter and Instagram because people would get it without me having to explain. Not much of a grand reveal considering Sapnap did the same when he got here but I didn't really have any other ideas I mean its not like I can just do dream's face reveal for him with a picture on my twitter can I. The response to my tweet was insane within minutes people had got it trending and they were freaking out with all sorts of theories of if I'd officially moved in or if I was just visiting although both were kind of right.

Having spent a few hours here now I feel very at home they boys are really welcoming making sure I'm all good and not too tired after my flight which of course I am but sleep is for the weak so I'll wait. I have been told to call the two of them by their real names unless its on stream which feels kind of odd because I'm use to calling them what their know by despite knowing their real names the whole time. They have given me a nickname which I now go by to make it fair.

It was sad when the day came to an end when we all decided it was best to get some sleep even though I think their going to stay up and they said it for my own sake because I've been yawning non stop for the past 2 hours but either way I'm going to go to sleep and this day (one of the best days of my life) will become that of a memory.

Although I don't think this day could have gone any better its consisted of everything I've ever wanted to have in a friend but none of my friends back home if you can call them friends are into the same things as me so it never works out. Now I have two friends who share the same interests and have the same god awful sleep schedule so we can stay up messing around together if we want to which is what life as a 20 year old should be like. Fun.

#dream x reader #dream #mcyt #dsmp #dream team

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rivers-rambles21 · 3 years

Text

The one with the ring

Part 9 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

As the weeks went by Bucky slipped further and further into his own personal hell.

You’d asked if he could show you how to use some equipment at the gym and help you with the weights. Working out is the easy part but seeing you in your gym gear? That was a different level. Your leggings clung to your every curve and it took every ounce of Bucky’s willpower not to stare at you - he did however notice other men in the gym didn’t have the same consideration so he made a point to stare back until they averted their gaze.

You’d found you enjoyed boxing more than you’d anticipated. Bucky had suggested it after you’d had a difficult day at work and wanted to relieve stress. He never engaged in fighting with you but he did help with your form and footwork.

Rather selfishly though, he saw it as an opportunity to touch you at every chance he got. Whether it was how to grip your hand for a punch, moving your hips to help your footwork or blocking your attacks. He couldn’t get enough.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, trying to tape your hands up.

Walking over to you, Bucky took one of your hands in his and began taping your hand up correctly. It had become a common routine which neither of you were interested in stopping.

You tried your best to not sigh as he gently stroked your palm before taking your other hand, repeating the process.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his eyes not meeting yours.

“We don’t have to, but I know what it meant to you - the shield-”

“He never should’ve given it up.” He replied, interrupting you, holding onto your hand which was now taped up. He gently rubbed his thumb over your palm, almost hypnotized by the tape covering it. “I’m going to go see him, I might be gone for a while.” His eyes finally met yours as he gazed back at you. You couldn’t help but notice the sadness in his eyes. You’d become used to his usual broody resting bitch face, especially during the morning (safe to say Bucky definitely isn’t a morning person) but this broke your heart. You knew he had his demons, despite him being generally quiet on the subject and you also knew Steve’s departure had hit him hard. You were hoping one day he’d open up more to you but you didn’t push it.

“I understand… I’ll miss you though.” You smiled at him although it didn’t quite meet your eyes. Having Bucky in your life filled a void that had been missing for as long as you could remember; he was the only constant you had.

“Yeah?” He smirked back - inside he was gleaming.

“Whether you like it or not Buck, you’re my friend” His smirk faltered at the mention of being your friend “plus I’ve only just started bulking up! All this hard work will go to waste” You flexed your arm, attempting to show off your progress, causing him to chuckle.

“C’mon doll, show me what you’re working with” He let go of your free hand, not realising he’d been holding on all this time and reached for your boxing gloves, throwing them your way as he climbed into the ring.

You spent the rest of the afternoon together, heading to your local coffee shop after finishing up at the gym. Although he’d quickly gotten to grips with modern technology, he was still a bit shaky on booking flights so you helped him make the reservation and booked a hotel room for him.

On your walk back to your apartment building you chatted about what he could expect flying commercial - a first for him and took the time to reassure him he wouldn’t be recognised.

“Can I text you whilst I’m away?” He asked, trying his best to sound as casual as possible.

It was at that moment it dawned on you that you didn’t even have his number, you’d both gotten so used to your routine of popping by each other's apartment whenever you hung out. Although admittedly, you both always found yourself hanging out more at yours since he wasn’t big on owning furniture.

“Of course, here pass me your phone and I’ll put my number in” Bucky tried not to sigh in relief as he reached into his jeans pocket, retrieving his phone. Despite you both growing closer the past few months, he still felt nervous around you, scared of being rejected.

“Oh god you’re one of those” You groaned, staring at his 15 unread notifications. “Can I get rid of them?” You asked as the little red icon taunted you.

“Go for it doll” His metal arm snuck around your waist as you continued to walk through the busy streets of New York, Bucky doing his best to help you dodge the crowds of people ahead as you focused on his phone. Bucky justified his arm around you as purely helping you avoid being barged and walking into people but he knew deep down it was just another opportunity to hold you close. “Spiderling ….. Spiderling. ?You ignored Spider Man?! He’s messaged you a few times, can I read them?” You asked, staring up into his baby blues. He glanced down at you and nodded before focusing back on walking you through the streets of Brooklyn.

There were a few more messages which had gone unread, a couple about picking his brain for a history paper and another about upgrading his arm.

Hi Mr Barnes, it’s Peter Parker, do you have five minutes for a chat?

However, one caught your attention.

Are you ignoring me because I beat you? It’s okay to admit a 16 year old bested you Mr Barnes :D

“Bucky did you get your ass handed to you by a teenager?” You giggled, rereading the message as the man beside you held the lobby door open for you.

“Okay first off he didn’t beat me, I let him win. And secondly -” His nose scrunched up as he tried to think of his second point, failing miserably.

“Wow, James Buchanan Barnes got beaten up by a sixteen year old and yet he has the audacity to criticise my footwork.” You teased, pressing the button for the elevator.

“In my defence, as soon as I knew how young he was I held back. By a lot” Gesturing towards the empty elevator that had arrived, he followed you inside and pressed the button for your floor. “And then he caught me off guard with his sticky web thing and it all went downhill from there.”

You covered your mouth trying your best not to laugh, imagining the man in front of you getting caught in one of Spider Man’s webs, struggling to get free.

“Whatever Buck, you lost to Spider Man.” You finished putting your number in his phone and handed it back, chuckling to yourself. “You should call him sometime though, it sounds like he’s going through it.”

He gestured again for you to leave the elevator first as the doors opened in front of you, swiftly following on your heels. “I’m not his babysitter.” He responded, pulling out his keys.

“And I’m not yours but I still listen to your shit.” You smirked at him, leaning against your door.

He responded with that stupid tongue thing he did, licking his lower lip before smiling back at you. God what you’d love to do with that- You shook yourself out mid thought, knowing where your mind was leading would only end in another night of frustration.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone for?” You asked, the conversation turning more somber.

“Hopefully not too long doll… come here.” He held his arms open and you pushed yourself off your door without hesitation, falling into his waiting arms. Your face was pressed against his hard chest, your arms snaking around his waist as he held you against him, his biceps curling around your shoulders, gripping you tightly. Ever so gently, he placed a kiss in your hair, his lips lingering slightly longer than they should’ve. A few moments later, you both released one another, trying to avoid the cold feeling overcoming you as his warmth left your body.

“I’m expecting a souvenir y’know”

“Of course” He replied back, chuckling as he pondered just how he was going to cope without you.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #tfawts

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 7

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,297

Warnings: Description of a dead body, major character death (but technically you already know it happened, just not how it did...so...), heartbreak, major angst, a bit of fluff at the end, a couple familiar faces may or may not show up

Author Note: Seriously, you all are the best readers I could ever hope to have. The response to Part 6 was unbelievable and I can’t thank everyone enough for the support, especially when I continue to be evil and end the segments with such horrible cliffhangers.

Links to Part 1 and Part 6 and Part 8

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Maker, your head hurts.

It throbs angrily as if a mudhorn has impaled your brain on its horn. In fact, your whole body feels like one giant bruise. Grimacing, you take a deep breath, only to enter a coughing fit when you inhale a lungful of smoke.

Cracking an eye open, panic seizes you when all you see is smoke. Ash gray and thick, it obscures your immediate surroundings from view. You can’t even tell if it’s night or day.

What the kriff is going on?

Swallowing against the dryness of your throat, you slowly sit up and feel pieces of grit and rubble dig into the tender flesh of your palms. A quick look shows no blood, soulmate mark unaffected, and you sigh a quiet breath of relief. But then worry starts to sink in when you realize you can’t remember where you are or what knocked you unconscious. Before you can spiral into a panic attack, the ground beneath you starts to tremble, causing the tiny fragments of gravel to wildly bounce around.

A shrill metallic screech pierces your ears followed immediately by a massive burst of vibrant orange flames erupting in the distance. You yelp, hastily pushing yourself onto your feet and start to run in the opposite direction, ignoring the howl of protest from your aching body.

You can’t even see two steps in front of you, effectively ruining your attempt at a quick escape as you clumsily skirt around piles of debris that appear out of the smoke and threaten to block your way. Every breath is a wheeze, lungs making it painfully clear they cannot draw in enough oxygen from the smoky atmosphere to support your chosen pace. But the mere thought of dying here in this nightmarish inferno is enough to urge you to keep moving, keep putting one foot in front of the other, even as it simultaneously creates a tight, anxious knot in your stomach.

Another explosion detonates behind you. The ground quakes and groans, cracks appearing at an alarming rate as if the planet itself is being torn apart by the chaos. Your foot catches on one of the rifts, eliciting a cry of shock to tear itself out of your throat when you’re unable to reclaim your balance and plummet forward.

Except it’s not the ground that rises up to meet you.

No.

It’s a body.

A dead body, to be precise. Burnt to a blackened crisp, as if the person had been dropped directly into a sun. Their skeletal features are frozen in an expression of torture, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. The stench of their seared flesh overwhelms your nostrils and ingrains itself in your brain, ensuring you’ll never forget the horrific smell for the rest of your lifetime.

Whimpering, you scramble backwards, curling your legs tight against your heaving chest. You look around, bile rising in your throat when you glimpse through the sea of smoke more charred corpses surrounding you. It’s as if you’ve stumbled upon a mass grave, and again the thought crosses your mind: what the kriff is going on?

You stand up, not wanting to linger another second in their presence, and continue moving forward, each footstep slow and careful as you maneuver around the bodies. The smoke is marginally thinner the further away you move from the fiery blasts, just enough for you to make out the faint outlines of collapsed buildings on either side of you, homes of families destroyed for reasons you don’t understand. Gut instinct keeps insisting that everything you’re seeing is wrong, that none of this destruction and carnage should have ever happened.

Again, you attempt to string together your memories, forcing your brain to comply despite the pounding ache it produces in your temples. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a concussion.

Details slowly start coming to mind, little and meaningless by themselves, but when put together form a grander picture. You came here to visit your best friend. ‘Here’ being a Mid-Rim planet with a ridiculously long and multisyllabic name you couldn’t pronounce then, and your poor head certainly can’t identify now. The transport flight had been long and you’d arrived later than anticipated, verging on late afternoon when you’d stepped off the craft.

On your way to your friend’s house, the sun had abruptly gone dark. Everyone had stopped to look to the sky, yourself included. A light cruiser, kite-shaped and unmistakable, hovered directly overhead. Its presence was ominous, evoking the crowd of civilian spectators to murmur amongst themselves.

Then its weapons unleashed a storm of hellfire.

Oh, Maker. How could you have ever forgotten the screams?

You’re pulled out of your dismal thoughts by the appearance of a dark shape ahead of you, its outline standing out as noticeably different than the surrounding rubble. Gradually, your brain starts to distinguish human features: a head, broad shoulders and limbs.

It also occurs to you that they’re coming straight at you.

Before you can decide whether to flee or fight or do anything remotely conducive to increasing your odds of survival, the human-shaped blur barrels straight into you, hitting you with such force you instinctively grip onto their coat, just above their wrists, to keep from falling backwards. The feather-light grazing of the edge of your palm against their skin elicits a buzz of shocking warmth, as if you’ve touched a live wire instead of flesh.

It’s you, the thought pops into your head unprompted, like a fact you’ve always known since you were born. The feeling is breathtaking and electric, a lightning bolt striking the center of your heart. Every cell in your body is radiating exuberance and cheering: it’s you, it’s you, it’s you! The one I’ve been waiting for!

You’re pushed sideways, a small cry of surprise escaping your lips.

“Get out of my way.” It’s a masculine voice, sharp with impatience yet it wraps itself around your heart all the same. He doesn’t spare you a second glance as he continues heading in the direction you’ve been coming from.

“Wait,” you protest, because it’s not supposed to be like this. You’ve started shaking, from adrenaline or the shock of his dismissal, you’re not sure.

The man pauses, keeping his back facing you. His dark clothes are conspicuously clean, and you can’t help comparing them to your own which are sooty and torn in places. For the second time, your gut instinct is telling you something is wrong, but this time you ignore it in favor of listening to the screaming of your heart urging you to never let this man out of your sight.

“We’re soulmates,” you say, desperate for him to stay.

His fingers curl into fists, the only forewarning you have before he snaps your heart in half as he mutters, “You could never be my soulmate.”

And then you’re watching as he disappears into the smoke, not once looking back to gauge the aftermath of his rejection. You had always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming that you and your soulmate would meet and live a long, happy life together until Death came to reap your souls. In less than thirty seconds, your soulmate had just cruelly crushed those dreams without either of you exchanging names or seeing each other’s faces.

Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Acting on impulse, you start running after him. If you can just have a second chance to make a better impression, maybe you can change his mind. Maybe you can convince him to accept you as his soulmate, agree to take your hand and never let go. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll fall in love with you, deeply and profoundly, just like every soulmate pairing you’ve heard about.

With a head full of maybes, you don’t even hear the bomb drop.

It hits the ground with a resounding thud, and then your world is an explosion of red and orange heat, consuming you whole without leaving behind any evidence you’d ever existed at all. Your vision shifts and blurs, memories of your lifetime flashing by too quickly to recognize each one, but through it all you hear a voice, his voice, echoing those dreadful words over and over again.

You could never be my soulmate. Never. Never. Never.

~~~

You wake up with a jolt, throat raw as if you really had been inhaling smoke. You’re drenched in sweat and you push away the heavy blanket covering you before realizing it is definitely not your blanket nor are you currently in your own bed. Looking around, panic begins to prickle along your nerve endings when you fail to recognize anything familiar about your location.

You’re in someone’s home, that much is obvious from the furnishings. The ceiling overhead is made of overlapping metal and is slightly rounded, reminding you of a cave or burrow. There is a lantern hanging on a nearby hook, but the light it emanates is dim compared to the sunshine pouring in from the four small, square-shaped windows cut into the wall behind you above the bed. The view through the windows is slightly blurry, but you can make out the blue sky and what you think is a corral of some kind.

Rubbing a hand over your face to wipe away the lingering exhaustion, you’re surprised when your hand encounters something rough covering the side of your forehead. A bandage. Strange, you must have hit your head somewhere—

The past comes back in flashes: Din confessing his feelings, touching his hand, the spark of warmth, falling unconscious on the floor.

Where is Din?

“You are awake.”

The voice is expressionless and mechanical in tone, stating the obvious. Even so, you jump, not having noticed the droid sitting in the far corner of the room during your initial survey. Its red sensors and dark colored plating would make it look menacing if not for the tray it clutches in its hands, balancing cups and a pitcher.

“I am IG-11,” the droid says as it approaches.

“IG?” you echo hoarsely, sitting up with alarm. “As in one of those assassin droids?”

“I have been reprogrammed as a nurse.” It considers you for a moment, internal mechanisms whirring, and then the tray is held out closer for you to reach. “Tea?”

Hesitantly, you pour yourself some and hold the cup with both hands as you take a sip. The tea is warm as it slides down your throat, flavorful and far more exotic than the kind you’ve tasted back home in Umbriel.

“Where am I?” you ask after you’ve swallowed two more gulps.

“Arvala-7.”

You blink, barely familiar with the name which only intensifies your worry about Din’s absence.

“Okay, but like, where exactly on Arvala-7?” you press, gesturing around the room. “How did I even get here?”

“Your current location is a moisture farm owned and operated by Kuiil,” IG-11 says, moving away to set the tray on a nearby table, though its head remains facing your direction. “Death brought you here unconscious with an injury to your central processing unit.”

“My central…” you trail off, squinting. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Yes. It was meant to put you at ease.”

“Right.” You nod to yourself, reaching a decision. Downing the last of your drink, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and make a move to stand. “This has been great, but I’ve really got to go find Death so—”

A wave of dizziness washes over you, forcing you to sit back down. Kriff, you think, closing your eyes until you’re certain you won’t be seeing double anymore.

“You won’t find Death here.” A new voice, crackling with age, informs you. His words are ominous, but his tone isn’t one of malice or ill-intent.

Turning, you see an Ugnaught approaching from the entrance of the house. He stops beside IG-11, green eyes peering at you from beneath bushy white eyebrows, but you don’t feel threatened by his nearness.

“I am Kuiil. Death entrusted me with looking after you until his return from Nevarro,” he says, sitting down upon a stool with his arms braced upon his knees. “You must continue to rest until you are well. I have spoken.”

You press a hand to your chest, feeling a pang of hurt at Din’s decision. “He left?”

“Death is bound by creed to the universe to reap the dead. Nothing, not even his soulmate, can be put before it.”

You choke on your spit. “Soulmate? We’re not—”

“Even if he had not told me,” Kuiil interrupts, unwilling to hear your dissuading opinion when he is certain of his own. “I would have known it from how he stubbornly stayed at your side and by how loathsome he was to leave you behind. In all my years, I have not seen him behave in such a twitterpated manner.”

“He…” Your voice wavers, torn between hopefulness and disbelief. “He really told you we’re soulmates?”

Kuiil, reaching towards the table for the pitcher of tea, pauses and slowly turns back to look at you. “You were unaware of your matched connection with Death? Did you two not touch hands as most fated pairs often do?”

Any reply you might have said falters when you look down at your hands in your lap. More specifically, your left hand. The one Din had grasped. The one that in your past life had brushed against your soulmate minutes before you died.

Right there in the middle of your palm, innocently gleaming like it’s always been there and therefore isn’t at all responsible for the rapid increase of your heartbeat, is a soulmate marking.

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster

#my fic #death and an angel #din x you #din djarin x you #din x reader #Din Djarin #mandalorian x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #soulmate au #my writing

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becomewings · 3 years

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BTS Universe Timeline

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INTRODUCTION

The goal of this guide is to chronologically map the major plot points of BTS Universe (BU), a fictional transmedia narrative centered on the lives of seven young men who share names with the members portraying them. The complexity of the timeline is magnified by the time loops that begin and reset on 11 April Year 22, so careful attention will be given to tracing how the loops diverge from one another after that date. The guide will be published over multiple posts.

Most of the information in the timeline is drawn from the official English-version publications of The Notes: The Most Beautiful Moment in Life 1 and The Notes: The Most Beautiful Moment in Life 2 (hereafter shortened to Notes 1 and Notes 2). Other resources are referenced as necessary, including the Notes released with certain physical albums, the Save Me webtoon, the official BU content in the BTS Universe Story mobile game, and BU music videos/short films. Summaries from the album Notes are based on translations by twitter user @/origamifirefly. Character names are abbreviated in parentheses next to the print sources to indicate the perspective from which the original entries are written.

Dates are presented as they appear in the texts. The single or double-digit year number most likely corresponds with SeokJin’s age rather than a calendar year. (In Korea’s age-calculating system, everyone’s age increases by one year on January 1st regardless of when their birthday falls in the calendar.) There are enough clues scattered throughout the text to suggest that the characters’ ages reflect the real-life age differences of the members. For example, JungKook is five years younger than SeokJin; they overlap in high school because SeokJin is held back a grade after returning from the American school system. Ages that are explicitly stated in official sources will be included in the timeline whenever possible.

BTS Universe deals with many difficult and potentially triggering themes, so please read the content warning in the Timeline Guide before proceeding. The Guide section will be included on all future posts for quick reference.

TIMELINE GUIDE

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers from all BU media

Revisions and additions will be made as necessary, so please visit the original post for the most up-to-date version (update log is included at bottom of post)

All names are provided as fully as known

Bracketed dates are inferred or calculated from references in the text

While the timeline is presented here as objectively as possible, I acknowledge that there is a level of subjectivity in choosing which information is significant enough for inclusion and in certain connections drawn between entries

Please inform me of any suspected errors; I will investigate and correct them

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Shadows of Our Childhoods

- Beginning through Year 18 -

[Year 9]

Jung HoSeok (age 7) is abandoned by his mother at an amusement park and moves into an orphanage. His age is referenced in his 31 May Year 22 entry from Notes: Her.

The earliest entry of the Notes published so far is HoSeok’s 30 August Year 9 (Notes: 7). Some older boys wake him up at night, and he reluctantly sneaks up to the rooftop with them. Fireworks explode in the sky. HoSeok is shocked at first and then entranced. The older boys tease him for crying, but he can’t stop the tears.

Note: It’s reasonable to assume that this unidentified rooftop location is the orphanage HoSeok grows up in. Therefore, his mother left him sometime before 30 August—possibly that summer, due to his unexplained tears.

10 October Year 9 Notes 1 (SJ)

Kim SeokJin (age 9) runs away from school with a friend to protect him from men who want to use him as leverage to get money from his father, Mr. Choi, who disappeared after his company shut down. SeokJin tries to hide the friend in his room at home, but his father, Kim ChangJun, arrives with one of the men and allows him to take the boy away. ChangJun tells SeokJin to be a “good kid.” The friend never returns to school.

Note: SeokJin’s age is specified in BTS Universe Story: The Boy on the Threshold, ep.3.

28 February Year 10 Notes: 7 (TH)

Kim TaeHyung encounters an older boy feeding the dog that he frequently plays with outside of the supermarket. He tells the boy that when his father earns a lot of money and moves their family into a big house, he can take the dog and raise him. After TaeHyung presses him a second time, the boy reveals that his name is Kim SeokJin.

23 July Year 10 Notes 1 (HS)

While counting in front of his class, HoSeok recalls the day at the amusement park when his mother handed him a chocolate bar and told him to close his eyes and count to ten. He feels like she will never come looking for him if he finishes counting to ten, and then he collapses.

Note: His mother abandoned him at the amusement park when he was seven (Year 9).

29 December Year 10 Notes 1 (TH)

TaeHyung’s father returns home drunk and disheveled after an absence and abuses him for the first time.

6 April Year 11 Related post: The Arboretum Notes 1 (JM)

Park JiMin (age 8) visits the Grass Flower Arboretum on a school picnic day. While his classmates are all accompanied by their mothers, his own parents are too busy to make it. At the end of the trip, he ignores his teacher’s call to wait and tries to walk home alone. With only his backpack in hand, he is caught in a torrential downpour and seeks shelter in a small warehouse near the back gate. JiMin wakes up in a hospital after he is found unconscious in the arboretum with no memory of what happened. He develops seizures as a result of this unnamed trauma and is frequently hospitalized as he grows up.

Note: This day is also referenced in his entries for 11 May, 19 May, and 4 July of Year 22; the lattermost specifies his age.

Notes 2 (JM)

JiMin reflects on what really transpired at the arboretum in his 12 August Year 22 entry, which also reveals that his memory returned due to a chance encounter on 15 September Year 20. Inside the dark and cluttered warehouse, young JiMin falls asleep and is awoken by an iron door clanging shut and the sound of someone breathing. He discovers an interior room and creeps closer. A small, pale hand appears on the other side, startling him. Someone whistles outside and opens the warehouse door. He hides under a desk and watches a man enter the interior room. Through the man’s legs, JiMin can see a small boy lying on the floor with bruised arms and legs and scars on his wrists from being tied up too long. Their eyes briefly meet. JiMin senses that he is asking for help. The man turns around, and the boy stabs his thigh with a boxcutter before he notices JiMin hiding. The man disarms the boy and slams the door shut. JiMin escapes the warehouse under the cover of the violent noises within. No one is around to help. He runs through the pouring rain and mud, frequently falling and scraping his knees. He collapses at the back gate with an image of the boy’s bleeding hand in his mind. He wakes up at the hospital surrounded by his parents, a doctor, and a nurse. They question him about what happened, but JiMin does not remember.

Note: In the same 12 August Year 22 entry, JiMin explains that he conducted research online into the incident. He learned that the boy’s family name is Choi, he was five at the time, and he was discovered near Hwayong Mountain on April 10 suffering from temporary amnesia caused by shock. JiMin could not find any follow-up articles on the police investigation. Additionally, he reveals the real cause of his seizure at the bus stop on 15 September Year 20: he saw the same boy in the window of the Grass Flower Arboretum shuttle bus. “His empty eyes no longer spoke” to JiMin.

21 July Year 12 Notes 1 (SJ)

After his mother’s death, SeokJin is sent by his father to live with his maternal grandmother in the U.S. (The city is specified as Los Angeles in his 1 February Year 22 entry from Notes: 7.) His father breaks his promise to see him off at the airport.

30 September Year 12 Notes: 7 (JK)

Jeon JungKook (age 7) slips through a crowd of people surrounding a massive sinkhole, wanting to see what’s inside of it. Dirt crumbles beneath his sneaker and he almost loses his balance at the edge. When he steps back, he sees something that is both like a light and another hole inside the hole.

Note: Compare to his Notes 2 Epilogue, XX XX Year XX, when he sees a bottomless hole below and the moon (or “a big hole in the sky”) above where he floats.

[Winter Year 12] Notes 1 (JK)

JungKook (age 7) overhears his father telling his mother that the world “was too heavy for him to bear” and that “there’s nothing he can do for JungKook.” He leaves their family forever.

Note: I calculated this season/year from his 11 September Year 17 entry, in which JungKook has waited ten days to receive a birthday card from his father; he has four cards saved in a drawer. (This also matches his real-life age difference with Jin.) He reflects on his father leaving him during the winter when he was 7 years old. He believes: “I was the world that was too heavy for him to bear—that world that he gave up on. A child who can never be the reason to endure it all. That was me.”

21 May Year 15 Notes: 7 (NJ)

Kim NamJoon returns home late from playing with his friends. The house is unusually dark and empty, giving him a chilling sense of foreboding. The phone rings and he senses that if he answers it, his life will forever change.

Note: It is likely that this is one of the times, if not the first time, his father is hospitalized due to a serious illness. About a year later, in his 21 June Year 16 entry of Notes 1, NamJoon describes how he coaxed his boss to hire a middle school student to post flyers. His family struggles financially with his father’s hospital bills and their overdue utilities.

19 September Year 16 Notes 1 (YG)

Min YoonGi arrives home and finds it devoured by flames. Frozen, he thinks of his mom and watches the house collapse. A neighbor asks him if his mom is inside, and he answers “no” without thinking. YoonGi’s mother dies in the fire.

Note: Some people suspect that YoonGi’s mother set the fire deliberately. In episode 6 of the Save Me webtoon, YoonGi recalls his father warning him against pursuing music unless he wants to “go crazy and kill [himself] like [his] mom did.”

2 May Year 18 Notes: Persona (NJ)

NamJoon and his father return home from the hospital to see the family’s belongings piled outside. They were evicted after his younger brother NamHyeon got in a fight with the landlord’s son who came to collect their overdue rent. The owner of the local supermarket allows them to move into its storage room. Exhausted, NamJoon snaps when his mother frets and asks where his brother is. The supermarket owner gives him a can of beer. In a later Notes 2 entry, he reflects that he was probably 16 at the time.

Note: On 18 June Year 22 in the Notes 2 timeline, NamJoon recounts this story to SeokJin at a street pub as a preface to asking when SeokJin drank alcohol for the first time, testing his memory.

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Posted January 13, 2021

Linked to next part added May 5, 2021

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wanderingpages · 3 years

Text

All Human, Rockstar AU (Part 13). Cardan is in a band on the cusp of fame, and Jude has been there from the start. They fall fast and hard, but sometimes love just isn’t enough.

Trigger Warnings: Language, Sex, Drugs, Death (and the word ‘cunt’ sometimes I guess.)

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

∞

Jude’s POV

Leave The Door Open - Bruno Mars, Anderson .Paak, Silk Sonic

I groan at the bright light seeping in through a curtain and I try to turn my body away, but I realize a little too groggily, that I’m being pinned down by an immense weight. I let out a huff and wiggle an arm free from its prison and place it on top of my boyfriend’s head. There’s a steady pounding I try to ignore but I know all too well this headache is one of the reasons I never liked alcohol.

“Cardan?” I wince at the rough rasp in my voice and cough a little, though constricted as I am. My fingers run through his hair, face contorting in a frown when I pull my hand away to squint at the grains I’ve caught between my fingers. Is this sand?

Further up my hand is the sleeve of a sweater I don’t remember putting on, and then I belatedly realize just how layered I am, while from what I can see and feel of Cardan, he’s got no shirt on and maybe a pair of shorts. “Cardan,” I murmur again, wiggling a leg free and hiking my knee up his hip. Despite how much unchecked weight is being placed on me, I can’t help but enjoy his being on top of me. It’s an oddly secure feeling, like he’s protecting me from something, cocooning me, encasing me – warm and calming, maybe enough to even embrace the migraine I’ve got.

I yawn and twirl a curl of his between my finger, blinking the blurriness from eyes, breathing deeply, unable to lift my head to see it, but still taking in Cardan draped over me, feeling the way his legs slot between mine, and guessing with how he’s positioned on my chest and our height difference that his feet are dangling off the bed. My lips twitch a little, “Cardan…You’re drooling on me, Rockstar.” I tug at the hair wrapped around my finger, but the motion is halted when I recall something familiar.

My head tilts when I remember at some point last night – had it been outside a pancake house? – When I thought he looked so pretty under the yellow and red lighting, when fireworks had been going off somewhere in the distance, he had held me by the dip of my back, and his other hand had followed the length of my ponytail, before twisting the hair around his wrist until he’d reach the base, and then, so gently, he had tipped my head back to kiss me. That was probably right after the last drink I took, because I remember tasting something like cherries and something stronger as his tongue slipped past my lips.

“I love your hair like this,” he had said much later, at the pier now, looking over the still crowded beach. He had tugged the ends of my hair like a child, then placed a kiss beside my ear. He stood behind me as I took in the fireworks, but hadn’t really seen them as his breath hit sensitive skin when he whispered, “Makes me think of really bad things, but you look so cute.”

The memory of his words has something in my chest tightening, something in the pit of my stomach churning. He’s said much more raunchy things to me, but for some reason that one stains my cheeks. My hair is out of the high up-do now, probably a mess amass the sheets and pillows at the moment. I can’t recall how we had made it to the sand or when his shirt had come off. Can’t recount the exact sequence of events that had him on his back and between my knees, had his fingers picking out bobby pins he’d stuffed into his pocket, had my hands forcing his over his head, pinning them to the ground as my tongue traced the lines of his pretty compass etched into his skin. “Jude,” he had groaned out, fingers flexing under my touch, body tensing as I left open mouthed kisses across his chest.

My body spasms now as I try not to remember the way I had him by his throat as I nipped at his nipple. My cheeks are fire hot and I don’t realize how much I’m squirming, how much friction I’m putting between my legs, until a warm hand encases my thigh and holds it steady against the bed. I gasp, part in shock at my actions and part in disbelief at the sudden weightless feeling I get as Cardan lifts off of me.

He hovers over me, sleep still coating his features and it softens my heart all the more. I don’t think I will ever get used to waking up with Cardan. He smiles lazily down at me. “Jude.” He traces the pink in my cheek, and I lean into his touch. Not for the first time, I think his voice is so pretty, that he deserves more than backing vocals in Serpent Gold. “What’s got you so flustered?” his gravely morning voice has my hand finding his bicep, the other hand flexing in his hair. My eyes trail down his neck to his chest, where my eyes grow wide at the marks still prominent against his skin.

“I…I manhandled you,” I wince trying to shrink back against the sheets. Cardan blinks once or twice before burying his face in the pillow beside the crook of my neck. His body shakes in silent chuckles. And it’s so absolutely lovely, I think to myself, to start the year off with his smile and my name and his laugh.

I blow out trying to be more annoyed than I am, but it’s so hard. My hand leisurely strokes his hair and I stare up at the ceiling waiting him to calm down. “It was pretty hot,” he mumbles, finally, falling to the side of me.

“You liked that?” I turn to him, catching the furrow in his brows. I unsteadily try to sit up, stretching and grimacing at all the cracks that sound. My body feels elastic and tense all at once.

“Yes,” he says, “Love when you take control.”

“Oh,” I clear my throat, running my hand though my hair only to get caught in a knot or five. “I just…You’re always, um you know. Dominant. Thinking back to what I can remember from last night, I just thought you’d be, I don’t know. Put out, I guess.”

“Never, princess,” he teases reaching for my hips. “Jude, I’m just about as lost as you are in all things sexual. I told you, my knowledge comes from porn and reading Lil’s books when I’m bored. I don’t know half the shit I like, but I definitely liked whatever you did to me last night.”

I let him pull me closer, resting my chin on his chest. “I like all the stuff you do to me, too.”

He grins wryly, hand stroking back my hair. He tugs a stray lock and says, “your hair is defying gravity,” he tells me. He has the decency not to mention the raccoon eyes I’m most likely sporting.

I stick my tongue out at him, “Your hair is no better.” I mimic his notion with my own tug of his hair. “You should trim it.” He hums in acknowledgment, closing his eyes. his hand rubs up and down my spine and I ask, “Why are you naked?” My fingers walk across his stomach, finding that crown of his to trace, amused at the contortion of his muscles.

“I have shorts on,” he points out defiantly.

“Then, why am I so dressed? It’s so hot,” I complain, reaching down to pick at the very baggy named-brand sweater I’m in then it’s matching name-brand sweatpants.

“I got paranoid someone would walk in and see you,” he shrugs. “You took your dress off and all you had on was some fucking…” he waves his hand, pausing to yawn loudly. “Butt floss.”

The snort I couldn’t hold back turns into a full belly laugh until my head starts to hurt again, “Ow,” I whine, “Shut up, Cardan, it was either that or no panties at all and I was already going braless, okay?”

“Yeah, that too,” he closes his eyes and rests a hand across his face. The hand at my hips squeezes slightly, “you had some tassels on your boobs. That dress of yours is quite literally my heaven and hell.”

“Dork. And tassels?” I squeak out before I pinch at his skin, “You goob, they were regular pasties!”

He cheeses, not looking at me, “Mmhm, heart shaped ones. Who were you trying to impress, baby?”

“This rockstar I know. He plays bass in this really cool band I like.” I poke his belly button and he grabs my wrist, holding it hostage against his chest where I feel his heart beating steadily.

“I bet he was very impressed with your ensemble.”

“He might have mentioned it once or twice.” Or a lot of times that I can’t help but replay often. “Made me feel like some punk rock Cinderella.” I glance up at him, at his serene features that, if I didn’t know any better, I’d assume he’s already asleep. “My new year’s resolution is to fuck him silly at least one time.”

He fights back a smile but it still breaks out across his lips. “Just one time?” He chuckles, “Why are you up so early, anyways?”

My brows furrow, “What time is it?”

“Too damn early,” he mutters.

I giggle, “I like waking up before you. You’re so pretty when you sleep. So beautiful, yet so unaware.”

“Don’t quote another band’s lyrics at me. That’s blasphemy.”

“Bite your face to spite your nose,” I sing lowly, “I want to learn that one next on the guitar. Fuck Wonderwall. And Hotel California, I’m striking until you teach me Girls by The 1975.” He blindly reaches to pinch my lips shut. I bat his hands away, shifting until I’m sitting up right. “Come on, where’s the extra toothbrushes?” he lets out another groan and then sits up face coming just a breath away from mine.

“I don’t think I like you in the mornings.” I grin at him and he rolls his eyes. I don’t even have to say it, but he responds to my silent dig anyways, “Yeah ,yeah, it could be four in the afternoon for all I know.”

Cardan gets out of bed, my wrist still in his hand and he tugs me to follow him. “What am I, 5?”

“I don’t know who’s still out there. When we came back it was still a full party,” Cardan sounds annoyed at this tidbit, but I don’t really know how to comment – in fact I’m trying hard not to say anything about it at all, trying hard not to admit last night was a little beyond my element. He opens the door, and peaks outside before guiding me down the hall and into the bathroom. I'm surprised that it’s mostly clean from what I can see, and it no longer smells rank with weed, but something citrussy instead. I crane my neck, trying to peer beyond the other end of the hall to the living room. Had Larkin actually made all those influencers and celebrities clean the apartment last night?

“Where’s my sister?” I ask, recalling she had been left in the care of said lead singer before I somehow convinced my boyfriend that eating pancakes at three in the morning was what we needed to be doing instead of sleeping.

“Lark,” Cardan confirms, and I sort of wonder if that means the same thing as me saying I was with Cardan all night.

He turns on the bathroom light and shuts the door. I take a seat on the toilet as he rummages through the cabinet under the sink for a new toothbrush. “Your phone is here,” I point out, surprised to see it sitting on the edge of the sink. I vaguely recall using the flash on it last night to find the bathroom. What the hell happened to my phone? I pick it up and make a face at how low the battery is, then let out a low whistle, “Cae and Rhy both texted you a lot.”

He opens the toothbrush pack for me and rises it under the faucet. He adds a strip of toothpaste then hands it to me, trading it for his phone. He reads through the messages before setting his phone down. “Drunk texts. Elowyn said they spent the night with her in the cabin.” He makes a face. “Cae doesn’t usually drink. She doesn’t like not being in control of her actions,” he trails off, shaking his head and finding his own toothbrush. I brush maybe a little too vigorously, trying not to feel contact guilt over Cae’s behavior probably having something to do with her ex-boyfriend and my twin sister. I tense, wondering if I should check on social medias at some point. Wondering if Larkin or someone else might have posted my sister or I.

“Your phone must have died,” Cardan says, pulling my away from my furious scrubbing. “ You took a lot of videos with my phone, then sent them to yourself.” I let out a laugh, barely there but it lifts the mood for the moment. I can only begin to imagine what mess of clips I’ve managed to take last night. A flash of Cardan in the sand, under me, halfheartedly batting away the camera I had pointed at him crosses my mind.

“You want to shower first? I’ll brave Lil and Van’s room to find some clothes for you.” I nod and let him leave before I strip and head into the shower. I use his body wash and shampoo, I figure it’s his at least, when I remember Larkin has his own place now and Van and Lil must have ended up with the master bedroom, in suite bathroom and all. Then I find a face wash, something about volcanic ash – and it was either that or the bourbon one which seems weird until I remember I have edible perfume, so life is a gimmick.

There’s a pile of towels on a shelf I take from and I grab the discarded clothes, tiptoeing, for some reason, back to Cardan’s room. He’s sitting on the bed, plugging in my phone he probably found somewhere amidst thrown clothes on the floor. “So, um, I found some shorts,” Cardan holds up a pair of soft looking black shorts. I can see they might be a little big on Liliver but would probably fit me a little too snug. “And…I didn’t want to go through Lil’s underwear drawer,” he shivers, “Kind of gross, but besides that, you’re more… endowed.”

I giggle, walking closer to him. He parts his legs easily for me. “Are you flustered because I'm wet and in a towel or because you’re being modest about clothes?”

He shuts his eyes in defeat, tossing the shorts in my face. I stumble, but still catch them. Cardan grabs my hips to steady me. “Liliver is like another sister to me, it’s so weird talking about all her… assets or whatever.” He makes a face, “It’s bad enough I know where her piercing is.”

“When you got the snake tattoos?” I guess nodding to the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. “Everyone got a piercing too, except Van who got the tattoo, right?” I grin, “Lil got a nipple piercing, didn’t she?”

He shudders, “Can we not talk about her nipples.”

“You’re cute,” I tell him.

“Shut up.” He looks skyward and says, “Raid my closet for a shirt or anything.” He then glances at the pile of clothes in my hand and picks out the heart shaped sticky fabric. “Guess you’ll be reusing these babies.” He smirks, eyebrows wiggling suggestively, “feel free to wait on me with only these on.”

“Yeah? What about…” I drop the towel instead. He lets out a curse, the sudden notion startling him to let go of me, freely letting the towel fall to my feet as his eyes roam down my body. I realize a little late, that this is the first time I’ve been completely naked with him. No partial clothing, askew and obscuring some part of my skin, just bare and wet. There’s no way he can’t see the suddenly intense beating of my heart through my skin, no way he can’t hear it, because that’s all that’s rushing through my head.

His hand reaches out and a finger picks at a tress of hair, soaked and dripping with water. droplets fall onto my breasts, down to my nipple. I watch his eyes follow the liquid, mouth slightly parted, his apt attention making my skin raise in goosebumps. “Why’d you do that?” he breathes.

I gnaw at my lip, “I don’t know,” I confess. “I think I wanted to one up your innuendo.”

“No hint about it,” Cardan murmurs, fingers delicately tracing the path of the water, circling around a peeked nipple, tightening the nerve unbearably.

I drop the clothes on the floor next to the discarded towel and grab hold of his shoulder, gripping and digging into skin as both his thumbs circle not quite where I so desperately want him to. “Oh my god,” I whisper, knees threatening to buckle.

“You should tell me to stop,” Cardan looks up at me with hooded eyes. I shake my head, not voicing that I don’t want him to stop at all; I think he can read it my face, in the way my hold on him tightens.

“I'm so wet,” I mumble, taking a hand off his shoulder to slip down my navel and dip between my thighs, but he stops me before I can make contact, spinning me and sitting me atop his lap before I can even comprehend what is happening. He pulls all my hair across one shoulder then leans my head back against him, resting his chin in the crook of my neck. He spreads my thighs and roams one hand across my chest, palming a breast, squeezing hard enough to make me cry out.

“Shh,” he murmurs, and I do try to reign it in. “Show me, baby. Show me where you’re so wet for me.”

I swallow thickly, holding his arm with one hand, the other hand finds his free one and without thinking, I press two of his fingers between my folds. “Are you watching?” I ask coyly, breathlessly, bending my head as far back as I can, eyes closing in rapture. His tongue flattens on my skin, that metallic ball a smooth reprieve from the roughness of his tongue. He laps up the side of my neck, rolls my nipple between his fingers while he rubs my aching pussy, with my hand still resting above his.

“I’m watching,” he confirms quietly. He pulls away from me and I almost cry out at the loss, but then his fingers come down in a slap against my clit and I do cry out.

“Cardan - oh!” the hand on my breast moves to cover my mouth quickly, stifling my swears when he hits my clit again.

“Walls are thin here, Jude.” The ‘I don’t care’ response from me is muffled gibberish into his palm. He rubs at the throb before tapping me again. My pelvis lifts and with his hand on my mound, he forces me back down on his lap where his hard erection presses against my back. I want to reach back and touch him, but he doesn’t allow me to. My thighs soak his shorts and my fingers frantically settles over his, desperately forcing him harder against me.

He lets the hand on my mouth trail down to my neck when he says, “what do you want?”

“Cardan,” I whimper, hips moving and twisting, “please, please, please,” I beg as quiet as I can, “Want you in me, fuck, please, let me ride you, Cardan. Let me fuck you.”

“Shit,” he moans, hips bucking too, and I'm so absolutely pleased to see him not as in control as he likes to let on. I guide his fingers in circular motions, wet sounds emitting from my body. “Can’t…” he strains out, teeth latching on to my shoulder.

I let out a soft cry, “Please,” I beg again, “Want you… in me, Cardan, want… you… so bad… I fucking ache…”

He licks at the indents he’s left on me before saying, “Not a chance, not here.” I moan out loudly when two fingers enter me and the hand on my neck goes back to cover my mouth. “Shh,” he tells me again, consoling this time as I whimper every time his slick fingers slide in and out of me. “You have to be quiet, now. When I do fuck you, I want to hear everything, Jude. Want your moans and your curses and all your pretty words.” His fingers slip into my mouth, four stretching my lips wide, hooking on to my jaw as I ride his fingers deeper into me. My eyes roll when he adds a third finger, more than has ever been in me. I whimper and whine and he places a kiss to my cheek, “It’s okay,” he tells me, my fingernails dig into his bicep, my other hand shakily reaches behind me to grab around his neck, raking into his wild hair, holding on tightly. “It’s okay, baby.”

My body is shaking as his palm presses down hard and his fingers wiggle roughly inside of me, teasing that tender spot right behind where my clit is throbbing. His breaths are harsh and rough but they’re no match for way I’m heaving and shaking and on the verge of shattering into a billion pieces.

I’m seeing double by the time I collapse against him. His hand releases my mouth and goes to my rib, holding me steady to him as he rubs my pussy tenderly now. “Holy shit,” I whisper, legs twitching around his arm.

“Are you okay?” I don’t answer, instead, wiping the spit off my mouth before reaching back into his shorts to grab hold of his thick member. He gasps on contact, but I grip him blindly, still a mess against him, moving my hand up and down, squeezing tighter like he’s shown me before. “Jesus Christ, Jude,” he grits, burying his face into my shoulder, hands gripping my skin tighter, and I hope his marks stay on me for a long time. “God, baby…”

“Cardan,” I sound drained calling out his name, thumbing the head of his length, captivated with the twitches and tensing I rile out of him. In one slick movement, though, I’m suddenly leaned over the bed, face pressed into the mattress, and Cardan is behind me. One hand holding both my wrists crossed at my upper back, the other hand roughly pumping himself until his come shoots across my skin in hot bursts.

We’re both breathing heavy and the room feels just a little too quiet, to the point where I'm embarrassingly aware of the other people in the neighboring rooms. I hope none of them are up, and I go to voice this but my mouth stops working when I feel Cardan’s hand on my back.

It takes me a moment before I can’t help but laugh. “Did you draw a smiley face?”

I twist my head to see him close his eyes in embarrassment, “I don’t know why I did that.” It’s the first time I’m able to see his face since his fingers been in me, so I take my fill on his red cheeks and messy hair. He bites at his bottom lip almost bashfully and I take his outstretched hand, tumbling into him before he holds me. He brushes hair from my face and kisses me gently.

He pulls away and bends down to retrieve my towel, then wraps it over my shoulders like a cloak, “Come on,” he leads me back into the bathroom. I rinse off then wrap myself in a new towel, sitting on the lid of the toilet as I wait for Cardan to finish his shower. My breath is still running away from me but that’s got nothing on the goofy grin on my face I can’t seem to rid of.

We dress this time and I do not end up wearing those heart pasties, but I don on one of Cardan’s shirt and Liliver’s shorts. I find my jewelry from last night among the pile of clothing on the floor and put them on; the hoops and the arm band. Cardan folds my dress for me and searches for some socks while I go through my phone, responding to messages from my aunt and uncle, Heather and classmates, The Herd – a few drunk ones from Cae that make me feel all guilty again – and Val, and even one from the pumpkin patch farmer and his wife. I check in with Vivienne and Cardan lists off the address for her to come over.

I pull on the socks he gives me and look at him leaned against his dresser. “What?” he asks.

I grin, “I’m starving.”

He leads me to a stool at the breakfast bar as he rummages through the fridge. I glance around, still surprised to see that it really is spotless. It’s a bit jarring to think just a few feet away, that coffee table was used to snort coke off of, that the entire DeathSweet band was here, that I shot-gunned weed right there on that recliner. I can’t tell if it’s because of what he does that this type of stuff comes with the territory or if it’s just a side of Cardan I hadn’t really considered.

The smoking is passable, I'm not bothered by that, not much by alcohol either, though there was none here last night interestingly enough, maybe the cocaine was a bit out of left field but we had literally gone from a televised event in which we were brushing shoulders with other celebrities – even got invited to a billionaire’s party in the hills – to arriving at a full swing party with even more famous faces; can I really claim anything as left field anymore?

“Um, I think I can make pancakes?” Cardan finally says, with a grimace, as he looks through his cupboards. “Honestly, Van is the cook here, out of all of us. Liliver would probably make us green juices all day if she could, and Larkin might be able to survive on protein drinks.”

I scrunch my nose, remembering stacks of pancakes from earlier, as well as fruity cocktails I don’t think we had been ID’d for. Not sure If I’m up for more pancakes, but I figure I can probably whip them up faster than Cardan can – with Oriana as my aunt, breakfast is a strong suite at our household. “Alright, you sit. I’ll make breakfast.” We switch spots and he watches in amusement as I search for ingredients and pans. “Where’s your phone? I need music.”

He spots one charging on the dining room table, so he gets it for me. “It’s Lark’s. Mine is charging next to yours.” He unlocks it and tosses it to me. I go through Larkin’s music library, shamelessly like I have the right to do this, and impressed to see a whole playlist that’s titled “Dance Pop Bangers” I set it on shuffle and hand it back to Cardan. By the time I have a bowl mixed, and the stove ready to go, I’m laughing at Cardan singing nearly every lyric to a DJ Snake song while his palms match the beat against the granite of the bar.

“I didn’t know you were so fluent in Spanish,” I say, pouring the batter on to a hot skillet.

“I finished High School with an A in AP Spanish,” he boasts, then points out, “I didn’t know you could dance,” he nods to my hips I hadn’t realized I had been swaying.

I blush, “Dance pop bangers usually entail some dancing to pop bangers.” His hand slides over my hip, guiding me, his other hand turns the heat on the stove lower. “Why did – ” he spins me by my hips, eyes bright with glee as he moves my body in rhythm with his, in rhythm with the beat of the song. He pulls me closer, lips by my ears, whispering, “Báilame como si fuera la última vez y enséñame ese pasito que no sé un besito bien suavecito, bebé.”

“Holy shit,” and I get it, why he’s so endeared my shitty Portuguese. My hands wrap around his neck, the spatula in my hand is pointed away from him, but hell if I care about anything but Cardan and this song and this dance that I’m in no control of. “Do you even know what you’ve said to me?”

He laughs, “Dance as if it were the last time,” he translates, pulling me tighter, before pushing me back and spinning me to fit my back against his front, his hands now spanning down to my thighs. He kisses beneath my ear, “Show me those steps I don’t know.” He turns me to face him again, backing me against the counter, “a nice little kiss, baby.” His movements are quick, hands gripping my thighs, pulling them around his hips and lifting me atop the counter. His lips are on mine, slow but intense. I feel how hard he gets when he pushes against my center, and I gasp into his mouth, his tongue delving into the opening.

He finds my hands, grabbing the spatula and setting it aside before he pins my wrists to the counter. My head falls back against the cupboard as he trails his warm tongue down my neck, wet little swipes that has me squeezing him between my thighs, hooking my ankles together, pulling him deeper against me, looking for that sweet friction when I gyrate my hips.

“Cardan,” I practically mewl out, his lips travel down, down, down to my breasts, taking a pointed tip into his hot mouth, sucking me through the fabric, tongue flicking at the hardened nipple, causing me to groan out. My hands are struggling beneath his, my hips grinding hard over his, legs begging him impossibly closer. We’re in his kitchen, not his room this time. I'm supposed to be making pancakes. There are four other people in this apartment, and this is a no knock zone. “Oh fuck,” I whisper, “I, uh we shou – oh, Cardan…”

He trails his mouth to my other breast, repeating the torture, lets go of my wrists to hold me by the small of my back and rub me through the shorts I have on. “Please,” I beg, “Cardan – I…oh god, Cardan, wait – I, no, fuck,” my hand weaves into his hair and I’m stuck between trying to pull him away or drive him closer into me. “Wait,” I say, and he pulls away from me, lust filled gaze confused and concerned. My breathing is labored, “The pancakes,” I try to say. “I need to eat.”

“I need to eat too, baby” he says huskily. “We can lay you down on the table and I’d be happy to feast.”

“Cardan!” I feel my blood rush, and still, I chance a glance at said table as if I was actually considering him. I jump, startled at the figure standing by the entrance, leaned against the opening, looking sleepy and amused. “Larkin!”

Larkin chuckles, his voice rough from sleep, and he places his hands up in surrender, “Oh no, please, don’t stop on account of me.” Cardan glowers at him but I pull my boyfriend much closer to me, this time as a shield. Larkin rubs at the sleep in his eyes, mumbling, “Do continue,” then takes a seat on the barstool previously occupied by Cardan.

I close my eyes and let my head fall forward onto Cardan’s shoulder. “Sorry,” Cardan whispers. he pulls away and tugs his shirt off before putting it over my head, on top of the shirt I already have on. He then helps me down and hands me the spatula while I rub at my cheeks and turn the heat higher before flipping the perfectly golden pancake.

Cardan lets out a sigh and takes my vacant spot on the counter. “I feel like you're always cockblocking.”

“I feel like you like getting caught,” Larkin points out with a grin. He looks at me, “public places, yay or nay, Jude? When’s the last time this freak got you off in an actual bed?” I roll my eyes, not telling him about what had happened a few minutes ago.

“Piss off,” Cardan mumbles. “How’d you manage to clean the place up?”

“I really wasn’t joking about the hard labor or money last night.” He rolls his eyes, “Of course, Locke and crew paid their way out, but boy do I wish I could see at least one of them scrubbing the toilet. Though, Nicasia did wipe down the coffee table with some disinfectant wipes she just happened to have in her purse.”

“I like that about you guys,” a new voice says over a yawn. We turn to see Taryn rubbing her eyes and trudging into the kitchen taking a seat near Lark. She has on a long sleeved shirt a few sizes too big, and cotton joggers rolled repeatedly at the waist. Mascara smudges along her face and a bit of lipstick smears. Her hair is done up in knot, but she looks as if she couldn’t care less about any of that. “All smoke crack if someone was supplying, but walk around with, like, Lysol wipes because God forbid you snort a line off something dirty.” She giggles and rests her elbow on the counter. “Wack as heck,” she mutters, then smiles at me, “Morning Jude. Rockstar, where’s your shirt?”

“Taryn,” Cardan and I greet together.

I hesitate to ask, tending to more pancakes, but I’ve been curious, and Taryn here makes me feel a little more confident in my questioning, “Um, have you guys actually ever…done that?” I haven’t seen any of them snort a line and from what I remember, Liliver hadn’t been too keen on that happening either, however it could just have been that it was her coffee table and she just didn’t exactly like the people surrounding it.

“Blow?” Larkin asks. I nod and he says “Yes” the same time Cardan says “No.”

I turn in time to catch Cardan’s brow furrow as he gives his best friend a hard stare. Tension is palpable and I share a wide-eyed look with my sister. Stupidly, I try to break it, “Um, anyone want blueberry pancakes? Maybe some… chocolate chips?”

Taryn nods vigorously, “Yes please, that’s a great idea…fruit is an important part of every diet.” She gets up and rummages through the fridge. “Huh, you guys have a metric shit ton of spinach, is that also normal for this area?” she mutters, “Green juice and cocaine.” I cough to cover up her words, but to be fair, I don’t think either boys are paying attention us anymore.

So, it surprises me when Larkin finally responds to my question, “Yeah, Jude, that’d be cool.”

My boyfriend doesn’t seem to get the gist, though. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

Larkin lets out a sigh and spins his phone around the bar top, the music very much unfitting of the current conversation.

“I love this song,” Taryn tries, meekly, tossing blueberries in a strainer and running them under water. “No chocolate chips, so that sucks – oh my god, the song’s about getting high and having sex isn’t it?” I listen to the lyrics of the new song and let out a soft groan.

“On tour with DeathSweet.” Larkin shrugs and from the corner of my eye, I see Taryn wince. I flip the pancakes, and my sister tosses blueberries in the remaining batter.

“Locke and Nicasia and sometimes, Yorn, always either had some on them or knew enough people to get some. I didn’t do it a lot, but it was a good escape for an hour. I didn’t like the come down, so I never did it after the third time. You feel great for such a short time and if you keep chasing that high you get addicted.” Larkin shrugs, “Don’t mom me, Cardan. I know my own limits, I promise.”

He snorts but it lacks humor. I try not to interject because it doesn’t really seem like my place. I get that Cardan has a complex due to his mother’s addiction and then overdose, so maybe he’s projecting his anger a bit. Larkin doesn’t seem like the type of person to get a high just to get a high; he must have been looking for it – that serotonin, that bliss, that happiness for a fraction of time. “The first line I took was mixed with B12.”

“The vitamin?” my sister squeaks in disbelief and I give her a look when she opens her mouth probably to point out yet another contradiction, between the drugs and the vitamins this time.

“It glows under blacklight. It was a neon party or something by the lake.” He says ‘the lake’ like we all know which lake. I definitely don’t point this out either. It’s quiet and when I glance at the boys, I see Cardan is staring at Larkin with a contemplative look, partially sad and partially disappointed, while Larkin is studiously ignoring his friend.

It’s so unbearable that I almost sigh in relief when Liliver and Van show up to crowd the kitchen. “Well shit,” Van mumbles, “I didn’t have to cook today.” Cardan hops off the counter and snags me by the shoulders, pulling me to his side. Taryn takes over the pancakes for me, rubbing at her forehead, muttering something like “Not in Kansas, huh, Toto?”

Liliver giggles and rips a piece of blueberry pancake that Taryn had stacked. She eyes my appearance and drops her voice low, leaning against the sink. She jokingly says, “Damn Jude, you look good in my clothes. How very domestic of you.”

“Domestic?” Larkin lets out a laugh and grins like nothing’s happened, “I walked in on this hussy trying to take our boys virginity.”

“Did you just call my sister a hussy?” Taryn says, spatula held a little too menacingly, the same time Cardan palms Larkins forehead back, and says, “Don’t call my girl a hussy.”

The doorbell from downstairs buzzes and I point out it might be Vivienne, so Larkin gets up to get it. Taryn leaves to wash her face and Van and Liliver offer to set the table. Cardan leads me to the dinning room, but before I can sit, he takes hold of me by the hips , prompting me to ask, “Are you okay, Cardan?”

He smiles, a small lip twitch really and shrugs, he glances at Larkin for a moment so I opt to leave that conversation for some time later. “Yeah. Are you okay? I realize how last night might have looked. We really don’t do shit like that. We smoke some but usually during writing sessions.”

I wave him off, “I have gone to parties, Cardan. Though I think there was really only weed and molly. And I never tried any of that stuff. I don’t know why I insisted so much at the diner, but” I wave it off, “I hardly even drink.”

“Because of the drunk driver,” he realizes quietly. “That killed you parents?”

“Yeah, a bit. And like Cae, I don’t really like not being in control of my body.”

He looks guilty, “but what you did last night, that was fine?”

I pull in my lips before admitting, “Only because it was you. I don’t think I would have been fine if it was anyone else with me. Anyways, I don’t think I liked it. Maybe it was all the second hand before, but I really didn’t like how quickly I was suspectable and how hazy everything got. I barely remember last night, you know?” He frowns, and I tug his wrists, guiding his hands to lock behind my back. I get on my tip toes and kiss his nose, then his lips. “It was my choice, I promise. And again, I was with you.” I shrug, “I just know it’s not my thing and I won’t do it again.” I ruffle my hands through his mussed hair and he smiles idly down at me. “Thanks for worrying, though.”

He presses his head against mine, but we’re pulled apart when Larkin opens the door to someone that’s decidedly not my eldest sister.

“What’s going on here?” I turn to the front door in time to see a very displeased looking Randalin, manager of not just Serpent Gold, but DeathSweet too, and countless other names in regards to music and social media influencers in general. Small man, but strong presence. On instinct I tense up, his eyes scan over me for a quick second that managed to feel like hours.

I shrink back but Cardan holds me in place, eyes narrowed when he says, “Should be asking you that, no?”

Van peaks his head from the kitchen and huffs out in annoyance upon spotting his manager. “Listen, Randy, you might want to leave soon, Kaye and Roiben are coming over, so…” he trails off in a shrug and though I know it’s a bluff, I recall some time ago Cardan had filled me in on the bad blood between Randalin and the band, Stepping Razor, who’s front woman’s daughter just so happens to be Roiben Rye’s now girlfriend, Kaye. Speculation was that Randalin most likely did something slimy in regard to Stepping Razor’s music, and somehow, Roiben had stepped in to help, a lawsuit maybe that’s been swept under the rug with a broken contract and Stepping Razor no longer being under Randalin and his control.

I don’t quite know what Van’s got against him, personally, but even Cardan seems disdained by his presence. I glance at Van who has his arms crossed in annoyance. He says, “Unless you want to explain while he’s here why you had DeathSweet over last night practically inducing an eviction notice.” Interesting to pick up that Roiben has some type of control of Randalin. Maybe that’s why, Randalin, who is also managing Nicasia and her modeling, did not do damage control after Kaye had decked her. He might have paid for the plastic surgery Liliver mentioned last night, though.

Randalin rolls his eyes, but he does seem to back down a bit, in stature noticeably. My sister chooses then to come out of the bathroom and Randalin looks utterly confused at first, glancing between her and I, then Larkin and Cardan, then the position Cardan and I are still in. His scowl only darkens after he seems to piece something together in his head and Taryn makes a face at this, unknowingly sealing our fate with Randalin when she says, “Who’s perv uncle is blocking the door?”

∞

@cute898, @monawa, @afexiss, @somebodysqueen, @nish247, @andromeddea, @avenrebekah, @gamer670, @daddycardan, @outofstyles13, @vi0let-femmes, @babyillyrian @queenofdorkville, @courtofmadness, @queengreenbriar, @stormymeow,@goldbooksblack, @littlemergirl4779, @lalunaswhisperer, @archerons-arrow, @illyrianundercover, @atla-lok143, @fangirlinghard-spoilerson, @soup-that-is-too-hawt, @3am-reading, @tangledraysofsunshine, @readmeaway, @gently-say-aha, @breezyfreezey, @soup-that-is-too-hawt, @fi-fi-firefly, @alongwiththewindd, @an-teo520, @dracolovelaceisinlove, @sleeping-and-books, @city-of-fae, @inejghxfaa, @franticlittlegeek, @darlingod, @ame233, @feysand-dot-acotar, @l0sts0uls1128, @tswaney17, @shadesoflondonxoxo, @rapunzel1523, @hoegreenbrair, @lost0nline, @vera0124, @afexiss, @pala-done, @blackbirdswords , @sjmsstuff, @tintinnabulary, @flashytrashy, @the-unicornspoop, @books-and-sleep, @cailleach-na-speirtha, @acourtofstudyingandsuffering, @nitrot150, @foundtheavacados, @justccstuff, @goawayi-mreading, @kickassunicorn, @hoegreenbrair, @sjmsstuff, @feelthismom3nt-blog, @feeoly, @faefromthenorth, @queenofxhearts, @lovemollywho, @velarian-trash, @tessas-herondales, @alissa-kirk, @sophiespievak, @galllatea, @georgialeighc13, @clockworkgraystairs, @pilesofriles, @queentearss, @mustangsally913, @pilesofriles, @fangirlforever0704, @dayanna-hatter, @empress-ofbloodshed, @izou1204, @tintinnabulary, @13luecloud, @furiousflowerponypizza, @bamchickawowow, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @hizqueen4life, @thebookish-fangirl, @judehatescardan, @cardanslittletail, @burninjurdan, @rowaelin-percabeth, @amapformyjourney, @ghostlyrose2, @nephilimlove, @judexcardanxgreenbriar, @charincharge, @flowersinvegas, @selcouthdream, @lizzzziebear, @sleepybabything, @ysitsohardtofindaname, @lahistoriaquenoteconte, @blackjacks-donuts, @sincerelymetoyou, @brit-alltoowell, @poeticbrownmermaid, @aelin-queen-of-terrasen, @flamingliterature, @whatafuckingbabe, @thesirenwashere, @drewstarkeyobx, @dorkzrul, @an-ironic-pisces, @sluttyskeletonss, @ironic-noodles, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @kittkatandbooboo , @superrfk, @infinite-cats, @highlady17 , @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit, @suchaspeciallittlesnowflake, @mar2203, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @mis-lil-red, @clockworkgraystairs, @pig-on-acid, @owl0y0s, @sanctalina, @cardan-s-tail, @st00pid231, @courtofjurdan, @booksofthemoon, @sarcasticsagittarius1998, @elriel4life, @nowthatsdistilledspirit, @localgoof, @fangirlprincess09, @thewayshedreamed, @minaidss, @life-wanderer, @transbordeamento, @l0sts0uls1128, @nerd447, @nellasantos98, @ourbooksuniverse, @thalia-2-rose , @larrysaturn, @saturnsun, @foreverfallingforthestars, @virdibirdie, @booklover-sleeplover, @sweatyfuryenemy, @irishcreature, @autophobiaxx, @tepidobserver, @jadeaffliction, @rowaelinismyotp , @rhysandandazriel , @bo0kworm0-0, @cultureaddictconfessions, @agentsofshields

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fandomscombine · 3 years

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Make The First Move

George Weasley x Reader

BG: The Yule Ball is only a month away, but the boy you were hoping to ask you out still hasn’t make a move. So you decided to take matters into your own hands.

(With guess appearances of Fred and Cedric)

This is an entry for @heloisedaphnebrightmore ’s 1k Followers Writing Challenge

Fluff prompt #1 “Do you find it sexy when girls make the first move, or should I wait for you to do it yourself?”

Fluff prompt #6 “If you want to make a move, today would be the perfect time to go for it.”

Trope #8 Friends to lovers

WC: 2623

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

y/n l/n is not a girly girl. You would categorize your fashion mentality to value comfort and functionality more than style.

Yes, during the weekends, you do tend to rock a graphic tee, jeans, soft sneakers and a outwear of choice, depending on what you’re feeling that day- be it a leather jacket, causal blazer to a denim jacket.

Hey in your defence, the Scottish Highlands where Hogwarts is located isn’t exactly the warmest place, besides students are only allowed to wear casual clothes during the weekends.

But every now and then you do wanna pop on a skirt or a dress, especially when its warm outside.

This upcoming event though…. you, like everyone else is oh so very much do want to feel like a star! To feel elegant! Luxurious!

That’s right the Yule Ball is only a month away. It is all that is in every single student’s mind ever since it was announced. Who would their date to the ball be? What outfit would they wear?

A number of students had already picked their respective dates and dresses. However, a remaining select few have not done either- Like yourself. Time is running out and the pool of available potential partners is decreasing day by day.

You didn’t mind going alone, as long as you have a great time with friends, going alone it isn’t really a big deal. But there is a small childlike wishful thinking that wants to have a fairy tale experience.

It also isn’t helpful that you had started to develop feelings for a certain redheaded twin over the summer. You swear that he too felt the dynamic changed between the two of you- who knew that 3 weeks tinkering with joke shop ideas and fixing out the burrow’s garage could be so impactful.

Though now coming to think of it, could you have just read the signs all wrong? The lingering stares, the tighter and longer hugs… Could this be signs that he planning of ways to murder you? Because if this were all romantic signs, wouldn’t he have had asked you out to the ball by now? It was no secret that you hadn’t said yes to anyone yet.

So, what’s taking so long? George Weasley is one of the most confident and popular guys on campus. Surely, he wouldn’t chicken out or get nervous to ask you.

Right??

Pushing boy trouble aside, you focus back on the dress catalogue your mum had sent you earlier today.

Flipping through the pages, 2 dresses caught you eye. One was a short tule the other had a long side leg slit.

You were in the process of bookmarking the page when you felt the catalogue being pulled out of your grasp.

‘Hey!’ You instinctively shouted to the culprit.

‘What’s this?’ George said, turning to the front cover. ‘“Madam Bella’s Evening Gowns, Autumn/Winter 1994”’

‘Give it back George!’ You tried to take it from him, but he quickly held it above his head.

You stood on the bench in hopes to extend your reach. You could almost take hold-

‘Catch Freddie!’ Shouted George and threw it across the table.

Fred flipped to the dogeared pages. ‘Ahh..’ He was scanning through the choices you had circled. ‘Great choices indeed, my dear y/n!’

At first you weren’t sure if he was teasing you or being sincere.

That must had shown on your face as Fred continued, ‘I’m serious y/n/n!’ He placed his left hand on his heart and raise his right. ‘I swear! But you would look good in any dress anyway.’

You blushed at his compliment. ‘Thanks for the confidence boost Freddie.’

He hands back the catalogue to you, and as you took it, he whispered in your ear. ‘A little hint though,’ He shifts back a bit- now being face to face. ‘My vote is on the slit dress...’

Your brows scrunched together- was this boy seriously giving you fashion advice?

‘….I know George would like that..’ He steals a quick glance towards his twin, who has now turn bright red, both from being embarrassed and furious at him. ‘… I-I mean, it would match George’s dress robes.’

Fred sends you a final wink and bids you both goodbye.

You watch Fred exit the Great Hall, never letting him out of sight until he turns the corner. Which George to grateful for, as that had bought him time to calm his face down.

That was the one of the weirdest exchanges you’ve ever had yet, but you also couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to it.

George cleared his throat ‘So…y/n...Have you got a date yet?’

‘No why?’ You look over at him and you thought that you might give your hypothesis a try. Smirking hopefully, you asked ‘Are you gonna ask me?’

If you only knew what was going on inside of George’s head, the boy was panicking.

It was as if time slowed. Or it was because George’s thoughts are going a thousand miles a second.

Of course, he wanted to ask you to go with him!

But his brain was feeding him of insecurities. What if you didn’t want to go with him? What if you did say yes but only as a friend?

Plus, he didn’t want to ask you in front of all these people, thinking that you might be pressured by the crowd to agree.

No, he wanted to do it in a private, more intimate setting. Deserving of your beauty and grand place to confess his feelings.

He’d dream that in return you would say ‘Yes, I loved to go to the ball with you, George!’ and perhaps even say those 3 words he’s been dying to hear-more in the romantic nature than of friendship- and if he was lucky, maybe even share a kiss, that would be the best case scenario.

The worst-case scenario would be you rejecting him, possibly forever ruining the relationship with his best friend and having his heart broken- at least that case, nobody else would witness that.

‘Eh George?? Georgie?? Hello??’ You frantically wake a hand in front of him. ‘Earth to George Weasley!!!’

Great, when you finally had the courage to ask him to be your date-albeit indirectly- You broke him.

‘uuh.. I… I have to go...’ George looked like a deer caught in headlights

‘What?’

His eyes, dart upwards, thinking of an excuse. ‘Yes, I have to go… GO CLEAN MY SOCKS!’ Unfortunately, for him, in an uncharacteristic manner, he failed to think of a believable lie. ‘I’ll see you later!’

And with that he rushed out the Great Hall, leaving you once again gawking with a confused face at another Weasley twin.

You had your back against one of the rock formations near the Black lake, deciding which of the 2 dresses you would be wearing to the ball.

You were enjoying the last good sunny autumn days, taking in the sights of other students having a picnic on this beautiful Saturday. When suddenly a figure had landed right in front of you.

‘Ahhh!’ You had jumped in fright, causing you to slip a bit.

‘I got you, I got you!’ You felt arms holding you tight, preventing you from falling off the rocks.

Once you had regained your balance you check to see the perpetrator that had gave you a heart attack.

‘CEDRIC DIGGORY!!!!!!!! I TOLD YOU TO STOP DOING THAT!!’

The boy chuckled. ‘I know y/n/n, but I just couldn’t help it!’

You narrowed your eyes at him. Which made him laugh even more.

‘You know you love me.’ He gushed, bring you into a hug.

‘And that is my weakness’ Your reply being muffled by his shoulder. You Cedric were as close as brother and sister, having basically grew up together as both your families super close. Your father is best friends with his father and so are your mothers ever since their Hogwarts days. Therefore, naturally you and Cedric have a close bond too, being joined at the hip since birth-the only time part was the 3 months that you are older by.

It has been a while since you two had caught up with each other, him being busy with the Triwizard Tournament ofcourse.

‘Have you got any idea about the second task?’

‘Yeahh’ Cedric gulped.

You crocked a brow. Not buying his bullshit.

Cedric scratched the back of his neck. ‘Fine, I haven’t….’ Gazing towards the lake, he continued. ‘But I think it’s got something to do about the water.’

You take hold of his hand. ‘Hey, it’s alright. You’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.’

‘Thanks y/n. I thought initially you wouldn’t be against me joining.’ He confessed.

‘You know I would support you no matter what. But don’t get me wrong, I’m worried for you Ced, always am. The tournament just upped it to level 1000! But I know that you have it in you to win this, to be the Triwizard Champion!’ You beamed. ‘Imagine that Ced, a Triwizard Champion in the family!’

‘It would be great, would it?’

‘Now to the matter at hand, The Yule Ball.’

‘What about it?’

‘Have you asked someone yet? You enquired.

‘Well there is this gorgeous lady that I’ve been meaning to ask…’ He hinted. ‘Though I am waiting for the right opportunity to ask her, you see everything has to be perfect!’

‘Awww, what an absolute sweetheart!’ You swooned.

Behind Cedric, you could have sworn that you saw someone in the trees. However, in your eagerness to know more of Cedric’s possible date, you brushed it off as the swaying of the branches and falling autumn leaves.

‘How about you? Has Mr. Beater asked you yet?’

You sighed. ‘Not exactly…’

Cedric leaned forward with hands on his chin, interested to hear more.

‘He asked if I had got a date yet, to which I said no. Then teased if he was gonna ask me.’ You recalled. ‘Then he froze. I guess I broke him, cause the next thing he said was that he’s got to go clean his socks.’

That had Cedric doubling over. ‘George really said that?!?!!?’ He had his arms wrapped around his stomach. ‘Clean his socks?!!??’

‘Yeah yeah yeah, laugh all you want Diggory. But you still hadn’t asked Cho out yet.’

‘Heyy! I told you I am waiting for the right moment!’

‘C’mon Ced, Sweet intentions aside. Cho has been declining offers to the ball, time is running out and I bet she is getting tired waiting for you to make a move, especially this close to the ball.’ You know how much Cedric likes Cho and hate to see him sad if and when Cho doesn’t get tired of waiting for him. ‘Sooner or later she might just say yes to some other guy, cause you’re talking so long!’

‘I’m sorry Cedric.’ You had realized that you projected your own frustrations on him. ‘I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.’

‘I know y/n, it’s alright really.’ He smiled, having come up with an idea ‘How about this, the next time you see George, YOU ask him out?’ He suggested.

‘ME?!?’

‘Yes.’ He insisted. ‘That why we would get a definite answer. And this time not more asking in an indirectly direct way. - We don’t want another system error in that head of his. Deal?’

‘Deal’

Picking up the discarded catalogue, he remarked. ‘Hmmm, I think that the long one would suit the occasion better, don’t you think? Being it a formal event and all.’

You agreed. ‘and you‘re not the first one to say that too.’ You muttered-more to yourself.

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing!’

‘So what color are you thinking? Blue or…’

‘Oh I got that all figured out! I was thinking that since the point of the Triwizard Tournament is school unity, I want the grown to be featuring my house colours.’

Fred had ran back to the Gryffindor dormitories as fast as he could. Glad to spot that his twin brother laying down on the bed.

As much as he enjoys teasing his siblings. He could no longer endure the obliviousness of his brother and y/n. He can no longer take the constant nonessential pining, especially when they obviously like each other.

Fred had been trying to get them together for the past month, but it seems that subtly pushing them to the right direction isn’t working. Which leaves him with no choice.

‘If you want to make a move, today would be the perfect time to go for it’ Stated Fred.

‘What?’

‘I can’t take it anymore Georgie!’ He grabs his brother by the collar. ‘I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I KNOW YOU LIKE Y/N AND BELIEVE ME GEOGRE WHEN I SAY THAT SHE LIKES YOU BACK OKAY.’ Fred pleads, shaking George with each word. ‘AND YOU HAVE GOT TO MAKE A MOVE TODAY! NOW! ASK HER TO THE BALL BEFORE CEDRIC DOES.’

George now dizzy, mumbled. ‘What? How?.....How do you know this?’

‘I saw them together at the lake and me being the best brother that you have decided to eavesdrop.’ Fred admitted. ‘And guess what, Cedric plans to ask a gorgeous lady- y/n- to the yule ball but is just finding the perfect opportunity.’

‘Therefore, brother dearest, it’s only a matter of time til that happens. And I your very supportive wingman urge you to freaking ask y/n out RIGHT NOW before it’s too late.’

That news that Cedric might ask y/n to the ball before he does, had put George back into his senses.

In record time, George had tidy up his clothes and fixed his hair. ‘Right.’ He turned to Fred who was looking smug leaning on the door frame. ‘How do I look?’

‘Smashing.’

‘Great, Now get out of the way you prick.’

George was busy thinking on how to ask y/n out to the yule ball and possibly even side in the chance to ask to go on a date with him, when he accidentally bumped into someone.

‘Wooooahh careful George!’

Damnit! he thought, out of all the people in this huge school, he just had to bump into the one person he doesn’t want to see.

‘Diggory.’ George growled.

‘You two alright?’ Said a voice beside them.

In his annoyance towards Cedric, George hadn’t noticed that you were close by. ‘Yeah, I’m good.’

‘Heyy’ Cedric interrupted. George had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. ‘I’ll see you later okay?’

Cedric kissed your forehead and whispered. ‘Good luck.’

This was is. George interpreted that sibling affection as you going out with Cedric to the ball.

Accepting defeat, he cleared his throat. ‘I guess imma go too-‘

‘Wait George!’ You held onto his arm to prevent him from leaving. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Go ahead.’ Replied George, curious onto what it is that is so important to ask him.

‘Do you find it sexy when girls make the first move, or should I wait for you to do it yourself?’

‘Hmm?’ George once again confused.

‘Gosh you are slow sometimes aren’t you.’ You chuckled. You take a step closer to him, coming up face to face. ‘George Weasley will you go to the ball with me?’

It took a second for George to believe what he was hearing. ‘YES!!’ He exclaimed then recomposed himself. ‘Yes, I would love to go to the ball with you.’

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he decided to take it one step further- cause what else has he got to lose? ‘Will you y/n l/n go on a date with me?’

You bring your arms to his neck, his him close. ‘I’d love nothing more.’ You grinned, pulling him into a long awaited kiss.

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #heloises1kwritingchallenge #george weasley imagine #george weasley #weasley x reader #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #fred and george #Fred and George Weasley #weasley twins #fandomscombine writes

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queen-haq · 3 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn. He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

Tumblr tag list:

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x you #the punisher #a woman scorned

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