#her eyes snap open the second he murmurs 'touch me' so that's where her brain is at. okay? okay! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 2 months

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For the Love of God(dess) || CL16 {2}

Summary: Greek God/dess AU. You show Charles a part of your world and he shows you a part of his. Warnings: angst, fluff WC: 2.6k Part One || Two

The old stone path should have been worn for all the centuries that it had been used as the entrance to Olympus but it was still as perfect as it was the first time you walked it. Nothing ever changed, not since the war ended and a new hierarchy settled among the gods. For two thousand years nothing had changed in the Eternal City.

“Love, what have you done?” The imposing form of Ares filled the road to your temple, his arms the size of your waist. His molten red eyes barely glanced at the man at your side before snapping back with a double take. “Kàrolos?”

“Uh, so everyone keeps saying,” he answered quietly, his eyes sizing up the God of War as he spoke for the first time since arriving through the portal. “And you are?”

“Intrigued,” Ares said with a smirk. “Good luck.”

The god vanished and Charles rubbed at his head, murmuring, “Fucking weird dream.”

“You’ll wake up soon,” you sighed. It might not be the wake up he expected, but it was coming - you just had to find Athena. “I know someone who can help make sense of this, we just need to get you back to my place first. It’s right over h-” your words froze as turned towards your temple.

Where grey stone walls had stood, great white pillars of marble rose. Where empty garden beds lay, hundreds of white roses bloomed.

Your temple had been restored.

“This is your home?” Charles asked, a little awestruck by the sounds of it. It was quite amusing that he walked among the gods but he found beauty in a building of all things.

“Our home.”

“I have a home - in Monaco.”

You opened your mouth to argue but saw the quiet desperation in his features. He was clinging to his humanity and it forced you to remember that this wasn’t the Kàrolos you knew, this was a stranger. The only resemblance they held were their eyes, but they were the window to the soul and they still had the same soul.

“Let’s just go inside.”

The doors beyond the marble arch swung open on your approach and the interior had changed just as much. The vast room was open to the sunlight and a fountain filled the centre, the sound of bubbling water a calming feature. Open arches led to more rooms but you made your way to the furthest one.

Charles followed sedately into the bedroom and out onto the balcony that overlooked the city. Above rose the peak which Zeus had claimed, his golden palace glittering beneath Apollo’s sunshine. Below, the forests of Artemis spread far and wide with lush green canopies and the Orlias river winding through it.

Your palms warmed on the stone railing as you watched a herd of deer pick their way to the river for a drink. “I know you have a million questions and I’m sorry for…everything.”

Charles’ shoulder leaned into yours as he drank in the scenery but he jumped back when an owl swooped in, the spotted wings brushing his cheek. A flash of light burst from the owl and bare feet touched down on the balcony.

“Hmmm, you have had quite the night, Love,” she said with an appreciative look over Charles. She reached out to his face with a smile and wiggled her fingers. “May I?”

“Why? What are you going to do? Who are you?”

“So many questions,” she laughed. “I am Athena, I am knowledge, and if you want the answers then you will let me touch you.”

He looked to you for help and gods damned if it didn’t make something in your chest hurt before you nodded. He swallowed the fear of the unknown and trusted you as he stepped into her waiting hands. Lightning shattered his brain, blinding him with flashes of images that moved too fast to see. But he knew. Knowledge expanded and exploded in his mind at an exponential rate until he knew everything. Thousands of years of history burned into his retina in less than a second. The history of the gods and goddesses that called this place home. The history of the wars and the destruction it brought. The history of you and everything you lost.

He knew it all. And it hurt more than the pain that splintered his head.

He didn’t even realise he collapsed until he felt the softest mattress dip beneath his weight as you laid him down. Your concerned face appeared above him, the sun catching your hair and weaving a golden halo around the strands. A thought crossed his mind and he laughed, shaking his head.

“What?” you asked curiously as his fingers twitched like he had to fight the urge to reach out to you.

“When we met I thought you looked like a goddess, but of course you do. You are.” He looked to the balcony but the owl had already taken flight back to her palace on the hill. “I’m not him, you know.”

“I know.” The man you loved had died a long time ago. You had your time together, no matter how short, and you had mourned for him. It was time to move on. “I don’t want you to be Kàrolos. I want to learn who you are, Charles.”

“And what if you don’t like who I am?”

“I am the Goddess of Love,” you teased, climbing onto the bed to sit beside him. “My arrows don’t work unless there is compatibility between the souls. Psyche is probably better off explaining that but my power only amplifies what attraction is already there. Can’t say I have been on the receiving end of it before. This will take some getting used to.”

“What will?”

“The want, the need to touch you,” you confessed as you looked down at your hands that gripped the bedspread tightly. “It is difficult to be this close and not reach out.”

Charles frowned. “You loved Kàrolos but you didn’t use an arrow?”

“Not everyone needs an arrow to fall in love. Like I said, it only amplifies. People find love on their own everyday, only some need a little poke in the right direction. Those friends who have been dancing around each other for years, the abused who don’t think they are worthy of being loved, the colleagues who only flirt at work. The fates weave their tapestry with a trillion threads of life and when there is a snag, like two lovers who failed to meet, then I repair it so the loom can continue its creation.”

Charles blinked as he began to understand how complex the roles of the gods were. “Fuck.”

You laughed and his lips tugged up at the sound.

“I don’t mind, if you want to touch me,” he admitted quietly, reaching for your hand and unfurling it from the bedding. His hand was larger than yours but your fingers settled between his comfortably and your body sagged with relief. “So what do we do now?”

You shrugged, not exactly knowing the answer yourself. Time was plentiful so there was no rush, but you were eager to find out who it was your heart had been given to. “What do you enjoy?”

Charles’ smile dropped as he suddenly remembered the world he had left behind. “Shit, we need to go back. I have a race this week.”

–

“Breaking News: Peace had been brokered between nations all over the globe in a dramatic turn of events. For more information we will be heading to our correspondent at the United Nations HQ…”

Charles turned off the TV in the hotel but he didn’t miss the way your eyes remained fixed on the screen, or the way your lip wobbled. Crossing the room, he grabbed your hands and bent his knees so you were eye to eye. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my fault,” you whispered through the lump in your throat. “I failed my duties.”

He looked back at the TV where you could still see the breaking news. Peace had come after two thousand years of skirmishes and wars on the mortal plane. There should have never been wars to begin with.

“That isn’t your fault,” he argued, but he had the knowledge of the gods, he understood how your power worked. The gods were a fragile ecosystem that required balance. You were the balance to Ares’ power and his effect on the world.

“I was weakened when Kàrolos died, I lost half of myself, half of my strength. It left Ares unchecked - of course it is my fault.”

Charles wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck so you couldn’t stare at the TV. “You’re making things right now, that’s what matters.”

“It’s not even me,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s you. I couldn’t do this on my own.”

“Come on,” he said as he started to drag you towards the door.

“Where are we going?”

“You need a distraction, and I know just the thing.”

Charles drove to the circuit he would be practising on in the morning and it was relatively quiet as he led you through the paddock. A few teenagers excitedly asked for photos with him and you smiled as he stopped to talk with each one. He was so different to Kàrolos. Kàrolos was a warrior, proud and unmoving. Most children gave him a wide berth when they saw the scars that littered his body. It wasn’t in him to idly chatter or placate others, the only soft spot he had was for you.

“You’re very patient,” you commented as he waved goodbye and continued to the edge of the track.

He smiled shyly and looked at his shoes as he shrugged. “I try my best to talk to fans, especially when I have the time. Take a few laps with me?”

You followed his gaze to a Ferrari that was parked in the pit lane. “I’ve never been in a car.”

“No, really?” His eyes were wide with disbelief and you laughed at the innocence in those eyes.

“I go where I want, I’ve never needed to drive.”

He grabbed your hand and excitement flowed through you as he set a quick pace to the car. “Trust me?” he asked as he opened the passenger door.

You were immortal so it didn’t matter if he crashed. Sure, it would hurt but you would eventually heal. But the question felt heavier than just asking if you trusted him not to crash, more that you could trust him to keep you safe. “Yes, I trust you, Charles.”

You slipped into the seat that was moulded to cradle you before he bent down and buckled the clips in for you. His cologne reached your nose at the close proximity and you inhaled deeper as you committed the rich scent to your memory.

“Is this comfortable?” he asked as he tugged the harness.

“It is…managable.” Restrictive, confined, and claustrophobic came to mind but you didn’t want to worry him as he went around to his side. There was energy in his step that had been missing in Olympus, an ambience that brightened the moment he arrived at the racing track, and you wanted to keep that light in his aura.

“We’ll take the first one slow,” he promised as he started the engine and gripped the wheel.

You had flown into battle on the back of a pegasus, you had held onto the fins of charybdis as they raced through Posiden’s domain. Nothing came close to the thrill and the speed of Charles’ car.

Your heart jumped up your throat as you were thrown back into the seat and then the world around you blurred. Everything faded away except for the window ahead and you didn’t dare blink in case you missed a moment. There were no thoughts on the what ifs of the future, or the regrets of your past. There was only the car, and Charles grinning at you.

“Are you sure this is slow?” you asked with a giddy laugh as the adrenaline reached your head and the initial surprise was erased.

“Hold on, cherie.” The engine roared louder and like a beast it leapt forward. A scream of exhilaration filled the car as Charles lassoed the metal beast and wrangled it through each corner until he finally slowed to return to the pit lane.

“I finally understand the obsession,” you admitted as he parked back where he had left. Your fingers were almost stiff where they had gripped the harness over your chest and you flexed the feeling back into them before unbuckling it. “I can’t even describe it, but I feel alive - if that makes sense? I can’t think quite clearly now.”

“I understand.” Charles smiled softly and wiped away the stray tear that ran down your cheek from having your eyes wide open for so long. “It’s getting late.”

You climbed out of the car and looked up to see stars dotting the desert night sky. It felt like time stopped while you were in the car but nothing could stop time and it all came rushing back. “Can we do this again?” you asked, a little sheepish at how needy you sounded.

“Of course,” Charles promised, taking your hand as naturally as breathing. “After this race it’s winter break and I am all yours.” He stumbled and caught himself. “I mean, if you want to hang out and, uh, stuff. I don’t have any plans, but if you do we can figure something ou-”

You rose onto your toes and kissed his cheek that was turning pink in the moonlight and he fell silent. “I don’t have any plans either.”

Charles stared at your lips, still feeling the warmth on his cheek and he touched the skin as a smile tugged at his lips and he nodded to himself. “Okay. Okay.”

“You’re cute,” you said as you felt the urge to kiss his lips next.

His nose wrinkled at the compliment. “Cute?”

“Amongst other things,” you added, biting your lip to keep your other thoughts to yourself.

He grew confident and curled his finger under your chin, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and pulling it free from your teeth. “You’re beautiful.”

Your lungs refused to work as his head dipped down slowly, giving you time to change your mind. You could still feel the remnants of that thrill in your veins and the charge was electric as you gave into your desire and threw your arms around his neck. The kiss started slowly, hesitation holding you both back as you tasted the chemistry, but it grew deeper as his arms curled around your waist, pulling your bodies flush.

The track faded away as you spared one last critical thought to teleport back to the hotel room. Charles blinked as he looked around the bedroom, but the surprise turned to a smirk. “That is handy.”

“You can do it too,” you said as your fingers traced the hem of his shirt. “You can just have to picture the image in your mind.”

Cold kissed your skin and you looked down to see your own shirt had disappeared.

“Holy shit, it worked,” he gasped. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

Your shirt returned in an instant but it was now the same shade of red as his team colours.

“I wasn’t complaining,” you smirked but the humour dimmed as his hands came to rest on your waist that was still wrapped in red cotton. “We can take it slow, Charles.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you, not your regrets. I want you to be ready.” Ready for an eternity together.

Charles sat at the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap. “The first thing you should know about me is I have never been good at going slow,” he admitted as he cupped your cheek and crushed his lips to yours.

#greek gods au #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

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look Hal, as much as I fucking DESPISE soap’s death.. i am in need of a fic where price delivers his wife his tags. pls, i need to be hurt again by you 🥲🥲🥲 (ik reqs are closed honestly im just hoping to put an idea in your head fjfhsjfh sorry)

A short drabble to make your pain worse, dear anon:

You stare blankly at the finely dressed man on the doorstep, a black leather box in his hands.

It isn’t a stare that can be defined on any level of emotion—nothing shown on a face in a time such as this can be. Some instances transcend any known sense and logic; all perceived ability to understand leaks out of a brain like water in a blown dam.

There wasn’t an explanation for this.

John looked on, and he started to speak as if you’d never known each other. As if your Johnny hadn't had him and the rest over for your engagement party—as if he hadn’t watched you pour him tea and smile softly in thanks as Johnny’s arm snaked around your shoulders.

“On behalf of the 23rd Regiment of the Special Air Service,” you don’t even blink. “I, Captain John Price of the 22nd, offer my—”

“Stop.” Your voice is shaky, and your hands are clammy on the door knob. The man can’t look at you. He clears his throat, blue eyes blinking at you; so similar to Johnny’s and yet never the same at all.

“...My deepest condolences—”

“John!” Your voice moves in a sharp yell, taking a single step forward. “Stop it!”

A heavy silence falls like a hammer.

Your lips open and close, stuttering. Where were the words? What could you say? The tightness of your chest crashes down on you; a cinder block of ruthless realization.

Your husband was never coming home.

Hand snapping up to your mouth, you stifle a loud sob that rips through your lungs, shoulders hunching in.

“Where is he?” You gasp, tears flying down your face. “John, dammit, where is he?!”

For once in your life, of all the times you’d spoken to him, the Captain had no answer. Blue eyes stay stuck on you, box outstretched on hands that you see quiver for a moment—a clench of his bearded jaw and a movement of his head to the side.

Like some cruel joke, you laugh through the bouts of sobs, unbelieving.

“John,” you plead, barely able to see or get the words out. “Please tell me where he is. He has to come back home to me. John,” you move forward, grasping his shoulder, digging your nails in as if to wrench soil out of a burial plot. It’s frantic how you speak—all gasps and desperate whines to a God who isn’t listening to you. “I need him. H-he promised me he would come back. I-I…” You struggle to breathe.

“Love,” John grits out, forcing his tongue to move. His eyes are pained, but never, never as much as yours are. It’s said on a low and defeated breath. “I couldn’t save him.”

You collapse as his arm, which snaps to circle you and tries to keep you up as you wail in agony. Tears stain John’s uniform and the neighbors come outside at the ruckus of a woman who just had her heart ripped out with a rusted knife.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, throat tight. “It’s all my fault, I’m sorry.”

But you can’t answer, because the only thing you have left of Johnny are pieces of blood-splattered metal and memories.

And one day, you’d forget the sound of his voice—the way he touched you; how it felt to be kissed and held and loved so fiercely as if on fire. A blaze of devotion, yourself covered in gasoline; eager to be burned by a man you’d skin yourself for only three more minutes with, if that was all that could be spared.

You plead for it in John’s arms—scream for it. Three more minutes. Three more seconds.

If not that, then just three last kisses.

Johnny was dead, and everyone, especially the man trying to keep you from hitting the ground; taking the hits you lay on his arm numbly, knew that you had died with him.

The tags of a man long past glint in the setting sun.

#cod mwiii spoilers #mwiii spoilers #halcyone answers #cod x reader #cod #cod x you #x female reader #call of duty x you #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #cod x female reader #tw death #tw blood

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personasintro · 2 years

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apologize for me | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; you’re one knock away and jungkook uses that opportunity, although there should be a different reason behind his knocks – one that you and him both know he owes you

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!jungkook x reader, (mentions of jimin x reader)

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, fluff, smut, neighbors au, enemies to lovers (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mentions of sex

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4k+ m.list | ☕️ ↳ previous parts

He is freaking the fuck out. With no idea what to do, eyes thick with exhaustion and desperation, he barely puts the shirt on and scurries out of his apartment.

With a crying baby laying on his chest, trembling from all the crying that has been going on for more than Jungkook would like to admit, all the desperate man can think of is knocking on your door.

Lips pressed against Ruda's temple, he's trying to sush her as her loud cries ripple through the entire hall, most likely waking up all the neighbors on the same floor. He grows impatient, frustrated with Ruda's cries and the visible red burning face, as he knocks again harder and louder.

He's not sure if it's the dad side inside him, but his hands tremble with something else than a simple exhaustion and desperation. He's scared shitless. Not the type of scared “I just brought a baby home and became dad” but “something's wrong with my baby and I don't know what”.

And when you open the door, hair completely disheveled and your own eyes thick and swollen with your own tiredness, Jungkook is more than sure he has woken you up. But that was given and more than clear, considering it's something a little bit past midnight. He has never seen you like this – looking like this to be precise – but none of that matters.

Not when Ruda's sudden little chokes from all the loud crying snaps him out of his trance. Swallowing his own vomit of fear, he checks on her and sighs in relief as Ruda is quiet for a second, catching a breath before she starts crying again.

“What is it?” you murmur sleepily, fumbling your eyes sleepily before the loud noise makes you cringe and it takes you a moment to realize that the noise is coming from Ruda.

Eyes widening, Jungkook is ready to sigh in relief as he pays you attention.

“I-I didn't know where to go,” Jungkook says shakily, bouncing Ruda in his arms as he pats her back to try to bring her some comfort but fails miserably. “Something's wrong with her.”

In your cute little shorts and thin tank-top that definitely shows a perfect outline of your breasts and nipples, your face scrunches into worry as you suddenly straighten yourself as if you just woke up from your slumber.

“Come inside, quickly,” you urge him, definitely hearing someone opening their first door as you close yours.

Gently touching Ruda's crying face, you gasp. “She's burning up!” you exclaim, quickly going further into your apartment as Jungkook follows you with scared big eyes.

“You've to take her to the hospital,” you tell him, brain starting to work as Jungkook nods, he already knew he'll have to take her there but for some reason, he didn't want to panic so he came to you for help.

Which is very sarcastic because ever since that day in his apartment, you haven't spoken. Not even when you bumped into each other in the hallway, you perfectly ignored one another.

As much as you wanted to peek into the stroller and see Ruda, you had to hold yourself back because Jungkook has hurt you and you've made yourself clear what is your priority and the main point – the two of you are done.

“Is--can you come with me?” he asks, voice unsure and so fragile that it makes your heart drop, despite your own anger and hurt that you feel towards the man in your living room.

There is no time to overthink your decision or submit to the feeling of bitterness, because there's a baby that is sick and needs to be taken care of. All the feelings can be put to the side for a while – until you make sure Ruda is okay. Besides, you're sure Jungkook wouldn't knock on your door if it weren't serious and for Ruda's current state. The fear and desperation on his face is more than clear on his face and although you have seen it before with the Ruda's arrival a little bit over two months ago, it still makes your heart drop.

“I'll get dressed up quickly,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze as you rush to your bedroom and put on a pair of sweatpants and a random shirt on top of your pajamas. You most likely look like a homeless person but that's the least of your worries when you spot Jungkook again, standing beside your front door trying to rock Ruda's little body as you quickly grab your keys and phone, rushing towards him.

The way to Jungkook's car is rushed and quick, just like it's expected to be. You almost offer to go with your car but there's a carseat for Ruda in his car, and there is no time to waste any more than it's necessary. Although, you do offer to drive there – completely aware that in a way it feels very personal to be driving Jungkook's car. You realize you've never been in his car before – not in this one which is new.

The one Jungkook had owned in a college is long gone, the one where you had sex in too many times that you'd like to admit. It was hard to make your schedules work with essays and classes, so most of the time you were hooking up in an empty parking lot or any uncanny alley you could find at that time.

Jungkook declines your offer though, asking you to sit in the back with Ruda instead and you agree.

“Just drive carefully,” you comment quietly, your hand brushing past Ruda's forehead and cheeks, softly caressing her hot skin as Jungkook starts the engine and drives out of the parking lot.

“I'm not gonna risk your life or Ruda's, I'm not that stupid.” he mutters, but you hear him perfectly causing you to clench your jaw, ignoring the weird twist in your stomach and chest. Calm down Y/N, those are just simply words, smart words. Nothing more.

Jungkook drives safely, it's more than clear he wants to speed up and he does, whenever he can and is allowed. Ruda calms down slightly, too tired to cry and her eyes flutter shut for a few seconds before she starts to cry all over again. It breaks your heart to see her that way and as soon as Jungkook hurriedly parks in front of the hospital, the two of you rush out of the car. He takes her out of the carseat, holding her tightly to his chest as you follow him.

Thankfully, once the receptionist sees and hears crying Ruda, she immediately calls the nurse who leads you further down the hall and informs you the doctor will call you soon.

Sitting down, Jungkook hugs Ruda and presses his lips against her temple, pecking it softly while he nervously bounces his leg. You want to reach out, to assure him everything's going to be fine but you stay on your spot, not wanting to cross any boundary with him. He doesn't care about you.

Just like the nurse assured you, the doctor comes right after and calls Jungkook inside with Ruda still crying. He doesn't spare you a glance, too focused on the doctor as she coos at Ruda and closes the door behind them. It's okay, it's not like you need to be in the room with them. You're not her mother and well, you're not exactly something to Jungkook. You're still baffled why you are even here.

For Ruda, of course. And Jungkook called you because he was desperate and had no one else to call. You don't regret coming here, there was no time to overthink whether you should or not because this is about Ruda and her well-being. But there's no point in denying that you suddenly feel out of place. A nurse or two walk past you here and there, giving you a brief and almost assuring gaze which obviously is because you're in a child's emergency section. They probably think your own child is here.

Ruda might not be your baby and essentially, she's just a child of a man you were sleeping with. It sounds awful and thinking about it now, maybe it's better you and Jungkook have ended your casual hook-ups. It's better for Ruda. There's no telling how much your mutual relationship with her father would last, you've never thought about it. You were always quite sure one of you could end it anytime you wanted. And with Jungkook's history of changing his previous hook-ups and sex partners, you weren't expecting to last more than a year or so.

So it's only natural as Ruda grows, she'd probably ask who you are. You'd have to be someone in her life. She can't possibly grow up and think of you as someone who cares for her but also fucks her dad in the meantime.

Settling to the thought that this is for the best is the easiest solution. And it's not like you're awfully missing sex with Jungkook. It hasn't even been that long for you to miss him in that way, and you wonder if you'd miss it after a while. Maybe. But that's not what bothers you. It's the fact you're miserable because you're hurt thanks to him, angry at yourself that you've allowed him to hurt you. That it bothers you to the point that yes, Jungkook is still on your mind despite the fact that he's an asshole.

Left with your thoughts alone, you're glad when the door of the ambulance finally opens and you don't have to focus on them anymore. Even when it's Jungkook that walks out, the person responsible for them in the first place.

He meets your gaze, sitting back on his previous spot without Ruda which makes you questionably look at him. Sighing, he rubs his face exhaustively and leans his elbows against his knees.

“They're running some extra tests on her,” he murmurs into his hands, “They think it's an ear infection.”

Poor baby, you think as soon as Jungkook says it. You mean Ruda, of course. She had to go through so much pain, although Jungkook looks like he's the one with ear infection.

“She's gonna be okay, they'll give her antibiotics and she won't feel any pain.” you assure him, quietly and distantly, which makes him glance at you but you stare at the white door of the doctor's ambulance instead.

You can't be looking at him. No, you're angry and all of this is just one-time-thing. After this, you'll tell him not to bother you anymore. Even if it's about Ruda. Even if it sounds harsh, it's for the best.

“I didn't know,” he says softly and brokenly, “She's been cranky this week and I thought she misses--I don't know, I just thought it's normal for babies to get cranky from time to time,”

It is normal. But there's usually a reason behind it.

“She's been in pain and I didn't know.”

“Of course, you didn't know. It's not like she can tell you, is it?” you grumble, feeling his burning eyes on you as soon as you say it, especially with the tone that shows your annoyance.

Jungkook stares at you, brows pinching together but decides not to react. He is an idiot, but he's not stupid – not like this. He knows why you're acting like this and weirdly enough, he understands it.

“I just feel so hopeless,” he whispers, leaning against the stool and something about how he sounds forces you to glance at him, despite your other part telling you to not get too soft.

He's staring into his lap, looking like a kicked puppy, still wearing sweatpants that have vomit on it and shirt that doesn't look any different. You both look… like a pair of junkies. And somehow, it does make you want to laugh.

“I don't know for how much long I can do this…”

“Be responsible for once and don't act like an idiot. That baby there is your baby, so you can do this. Whatever it takes.” you tell him, voice stern as he looks up, bangs falling into his face and you're met with the same face full of regret.

He's quiet for a moment, too occupied with his own demons before he lets out a slight sigh, brushing his sweaty palms against his thighs. “Y/N--”

The door opens and you're on your feet immediately, and you're too embarrassed to admit that it's because he was about to tell you something and used your name, rather than see the doctor holding Ruda. She's not crying, doesn't look red anymore and her big eyes watch everything around her as she babbles something, bubbles creating in the corner of her small lips.

Jungkook shoots up from his spot, taking Ruda carefully but quickly to show the determination to hold his daughter again. The doctor smiles, informs Jungkook about Ruda's state where she confirms her earlier assumptions about the ear infection. She's talking to him, glancing at you from time to time and probably wondering who the hell are you, whether you're a mother or not because for a mother you sure look distant right now. Despite your distance, you still carefully watch Ruda and her little hands clenched in tiny fists.

She explains to Jungkook how to give Ruda her antibiotics, assuring him that it's not a big deal and she should be better now. Even her fever is down which is very good and causes Jungkook to relax, and unknowingly, it relaxes you too. Telling him to visit Ruda's pediater tomorrow, they bid goodbye and you both thank her.

You get into Jungkook's car, Ruda sleeping in no time because as soon as Jungkook puts her into her carseat, she's already falling asleep while she holds onto your finger, clenching her own fingers around it. You smile, focusing mostly on her because the rest of the ride is quiet and if it weren't for the soft tunes coming from the radio, you're sure the awkwardness would be even thicker. However, Jungkook seems to be focused on the road and you're too clueless to notice his eyes in the dark, glancing at you from time to time in a rear window.

“Can you sit in the front for a moment?”

That's definitely not what you've expected Jungkook to say as soon as he parks the car – voice gentle and quiet, not to wake up the little angel sleeping and finally feeling better.

“Why?” you ask confusingly, unbuckling your seatbelt. You thought as soon as you step out of this car, you're just going to ignore each other again because you still think that's for the best.

You definitely didn't expect Jungkook to ask you such a question, glancing across his shoulder to get a better look at you which almost makes you squirm in your spot.

He sees your confusion and doubt, and trying to hide his annoyance at your question instead of you just doing what he asks of you, he opens his mouth.

“I want to talk to you.” he says simply, not showing an ounce of reaction on his face and voice, making you slightly more nervous.

“Do we have to talk in the car?” you ask, glancing at Ruda as she sleeps soundlessly, looking cozy in her carseat.

“I don't want to move her just yet in case she wakes up,” he explains, a concern of waking up his finally sleeping daughter overshadows his features for a moment and your heart softens.

No, you can't get soft.

“Just… Please sit here, I really want and need to talk to you.”

It's surprising how he doesn't sound desperate, despite this being around his third time asking you to talk. But still, there is a softness in his voice, maybe you're mistaking it for the exhaustion that's more than evident, both on his face and physical appearance.

You have nothing to lose anyway. He's the one who wants to talk, so you'll let him. Sighing, you open the door and get out of the car, closing it gently not to startle and wake up sleeping Ruda, just for you to sit in the front just like Jungkook has asked of you.

It feels weird to sit in the front all of a sudden, mainly because you're so close to Jungkook and with his eyes simply watching you makes your heart shiver, knowing you've got his whole attention.

“So?” you ask quietly, looking everywhere but not at him, avoiding those big dark brown eyes as the streetlights cast a perfect lightning on his tired face.

Jungkook leans back, following your line of vision for a moment to not look at you. “I think I owe you an apology.”

“You think?” you scoff immediately, ignoring the way you tensed at his words. Is Jeon Jungkook even considering apologizing to you? Well, he definitely has a reason to apologize, it's just very rare to actually hear him say that.

“God, you're so annoying,” Jungkook scoffs back, shaking his head as you both look at each other at the same time. Both of your brows are pinched together, looking almost identically with the way you frown and stare at each other and surprisingly, Jungkook is the first one that breaks the glaring contest as he sighs and leans his head back against the headrest. “I was an asshole to you the other day,”

You raise your brow at him which makes him roll his eyes but he doesn't react to it verbally, glancing at his lap for a moment to gather his thoughts before he continues.

“I don't know what came over me,” Oh, he knows. “You've been a huge help to me and seriously… I'm not sure I could've done half of the things without you,”

He gulps, feeling the lump in his throat as the embarrassment lingers in the air. He can't believe he just confessed that to you – he sounds so fucking soft. He has never had a reason to get this soft around any woman he was sleeping with. Yes, maybe he's not the most empathic and softest person, but he's loyal and he never snapped at anyone like that. And the fact it's been you out of all people, you that's been helping him on his journey of being a new dad since the beginning. And all Jungkook has done was to fuck you because that was your whole relationship, that was the deal.

The memory of Jimin or any possible other men having you the same way makes his stomach twist in an uncomfortable way, leaving a pinching feeling in his chest. And it's even worse because you were never exclusive in the first place, it never crossed his mind that much before. When he fucked you, all he cared about was the present. He showed you no one could ever fuck you and bring you such mind blowing orgasms like he can. It felt like a certain competition to him, a boost to his ego and make him want to fuck you even harder.

Plus, he doesn't know your personal life. He knows you, yet you're a stranger to him. But are you really?

“So, you are apologizing because I've been a help to you? So you want to have someone who's going to help you?” you ask straight-away, noticing the guilty feeling in your chest right away. You sound pissed and judging by the way Jungkook stares at you, he's just as surprised at your assumption.

“What? No!” he exclaims, silencing himself right away as he shuts his mouth for a second, waiting for any kind of sound from Ruda. Once you're met with silence, he shakes his head. “I don't expect you to be in our lives after how I treated you,”

Our lives.

Biting your lower lip, you're trying not to react to his words and how they're already affecting you. He didn't even say something overly emotional and you already feel like swooning, maybe about to cry as well.

“You were right. We weren't exclusive and how I acted was a total dick move.”

“Okay, but why did you act like a dick?” you challenge him, seeing his brows shoot up a little at your question and he gets taken aback.

“Because I'm a dick?”

You chuckle at that, shaking your head. “You don't want to admit it, do you?”

“Admit what?” he asks confusingly, ready to tell you that he just admitted that he is a dick. The noun you've called him so many times he lost a count.

“That you were jealous,” you shrug, lips twitching when Jungkook stutters over his words, almost choking himself in the process.

“I wasn't!” he whispers harshly, eyes wide and in denial while you stare at him with a raised brow, obviously not believing a single word and Jungkook starts to panic.

“Oh come on, it's not a bad thing to admit. You were jealous, Jeon. And you're in denial. The whole problem started with Jimin, it wasn't just you being a dick which by the way, you are,” He glares at you, but you continue. “I don't know what was your reason to be jealous, but just admit it you were. I'm not stupid as you think I am. It started from the moment you saw Jimin leaving my apartment, you acted like a dick that barely looked my way. And then, you suddenly cut me out which is okay if you didn't want to hook up anymore,”

Jungkook bites harshly into his tongue to prevent himself from saying that no, he definitely wanted to hook up with you. It's weird because the only thing that connected you two and “forced” you to be in each other's company was sex. He is confused because he has another person to think about, and that little person is very much sleeping behind him completely unaware of how fucked up her father is.

“It was more about the way you did it,” you tell him, voice turning to a murmur. “But I get it, we don't exactly like each other.”

“Don't say that,” Jungkook says before he can stop himself, eyes widening in panic.

“What exactly?”

“You're not that bad,” he mutters, somehow indirectly avoiding your question but still giving you some kind of an answer.

You laugh silently, hand covering your mouth as Jungkook's lips spread into a tiny grin. “Thanks,” you mutter sarcastically.

Jungkook chuckles and stays silent for a good minute, and you shift on your spot ready to reach towards the car handle because it doesn't seem as if he wants to say anything else. And he panics even from the slightest movement from you, fearing you'll leave before he can properly say what he wants.

“Okay, maybe you were right,” he blurts out, sighing when you turn more to him and lift your brow in question. “Yeah, maybe I, uh, was jealous.”

Snorting, you shake your head at him as you purse your lips. “Maybe?”

Then he leans his head back and groans lightly, causing you to shush him, glancing at the back. You've been talking quietly, so it's not like Ruda should be awake by now but still, she's a baby. Her sickness and the fever must have completely worn her out, which is understandable.

“It's fucking stupid and I don't want to talk about it.” Jungkook snaps, clenching his jaw as he looks at the window, showing you just how sharp his jawline can be.

And you take that time to eye him, something you were trying to hold back yourself from doing, admiring the artwork on his arm and you realize how you missed even such a simple feature of him. Which is fucking stupid, just like Jungkook said a minute ago.

So you mask your gawking and sudden silence by a genuine and quiet laugh. “No need to be embarrassed.”

“No,” he says, abruptly turning his head to face you. “It is fucking embarassing and stupid because like you said before, I had no reason to be actually jealous. You thought I fuck other people, I thought the same about you. That's what we agreed on. I was never a person to share someone with someone else, so I guess that it felt weird to me from the start to know you--you slept with other people.”

“A person,” you speak up softly, seeing his confusion as you sigh. “Not people. I only slept with Jimin and it wasn't even that often.” And it was mostly to shake you out of my mind, but you don't tell him that.

You were never a person who would have multiple men. It somehow just happened with those two. You experienced your first time hooking up with someone you weren't in a relationship with – Jungkook. But then your paths diverged and you had Jimin. Completely opposite of Jungkook, because Jimin is your friend. Jungkook had been someone who was getting on your nerves but could you fuck well. Somehow, you ended up sleeping with Jungkook again and since you already had Jimin, you ended up with two men.

But it's not like that at all as it seems. Yes, you might've slept a few times with Jimin while you were hooking up with Jungkook again, but most of the times it was something he initiated. And you wanted to prove yourself, which is completely stupid, that Jungkook isn't the only man for you. Whether it's about sex or not. You hated him so much, you hated how much he was on your mind just by simply having a sex with you.

But it was too good to end it.

“Well, it still was someone else,” Jungkook mutters and then you see it again.

“Oh my god, you are still jealous!” you exclaim in a whisper, a realization crossing Jungkook's features as he starts shaking his head abruptly like a little child, trying to deny the truth. “Don't even deny it!”

“Shut up!” he scolds you by whispering harshly, leaning towards you as you giggle quietly. “I am not jealous. We ended it, you remember?”

And that shuts you up, even makes your fit of giggles die down as you try not to appear disappointed. Clearing your throat, you nod and stare ahead of you at the scenery instead.

“Yeah, we did...” you mutter.

Again, you sit there in a silence that starts to feel awkward but none of you move. And then Jungkook silently clears his throat, avoiding your eyes as he stares at the steering wheel instead.

“So,” he clears his throat again. What's up with him? “You found someone?”

“Someone? Someone for what?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, wanting to groan at you but he prevents himself from doing so.

“For dating,” It's funny how he says it with an evident displeasure in his tone. “You said you want to date only.”

You snort, “It's been like a week since I said that, it doesn't mean I'm going on a hunt for a perfect boyfriend.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” Jungkook mutters sarcastically and you shoot him a glare.

“Think about dating whatever you want, but it's actually way better than hooking up with someone.”

“I know,” he says too quickly, causing your eyes to widen and so does his as he says it. “I mean--I don't know but like, I'm not judging when people date, Y/N.”

You hate how your heart bounces when he says your name.

“Good,” you nod, “You shouldn't because I don't think you'll hook up with women for the rest of your life.” you tell him, head cocking towards the back where his daughter is.

“Yeah, about that…” he coughs, “I don't want just anyone around her.”

“Wow, does this mean Jeon Jungkook will actually start dating?” you tease him, causing him to send you a glare and a dumbfounded look at the same time.

“No, I said no such thing.”

You snort, “Then what do you mean, Jungkook? I really doubt you can go without sex, for like--I don't even know for how long, I just know one way or another you'll find someone to sleep with.”

Well, Jungkook can't judge you for that assumption.

“Hey, I went without sex for a week. I celibate at this point,” he points out and you laugh a little too loudly, clasping your hand over your mouth while Jungkook tries to hide the grin that wants to make its way out.

“I don't know what will happen, I'm not the greatest person in the world and I make mistakes, but I really want to be different for her.” he confesses, your grin slowly dying down as a fond smile makes it on your lips.

“That's really good, Jungkook,” you tell him, “So… uh, are we good? Can I see Ruda sometimes?” you ask shyly, Jungkook doesn't hide his shock but he quickly shakes himself out of it.

But the fact he doesn't answer right away makes you nervous and the tip of your ears start to burn.

“Yeah?” he almost chokes out, “Yeah. I think she'll love it.”

What? Fuck, I think she'll love it? She's a freaking newborn. She probably doesn't even realize that Jungkook is her father yet. Definitely, not probably. Oh, fuck. He wants to slap his face.

But when he glances at you, you look nowhere near amused and actually pleased, very happy to hear him say that. You're smiling, probably the widest Jungkook has ever seen and he catches himself to stare too long.

So he panics and interrupts your little moment of joy.

“Should we go upstairs? I'm fucking tired.”

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, getting out of the car too quickly which results with you awkwardly standing next to Jungkook as he pulls out Ruda with her car seat, not wanting to wake her up by pulling her out of it.

And she whimpers at the sudden movement, the slight breeze hitting her rosy cheeks and you coo, wanting nothing more than to scoop her into your arms and hug her tiny body tightly. But what surprises you the most is the way Jungkook freezes when he hears his baby waking up, his eyes wide in concern and then he says with the softest voice;

“Shhh, baby, don't worry.”

It takes you a moment to shake yourself out of your daze, mostly caused by the way Jungkook awkwardly glances at you as if he was embarrassed that you've just seen his soft moment. Locking his car, you both walk into the building and into the elevator, the rest of your journey to your homes is spent in complete silence. Well, neighbors are sleeping at this hour and it's not like you want to make necessary noise, plus Ruda is sleeping.

As you make it to your front door and Jungkook to his, you almost wish you had walked a little bit slower. You're freaking exhausted, probably will fall asleep as soon as your body hits the mattress but still, things feel weird.

Just as you turn around to watch Jungkook's broad shoulders and back that are turned to you, he glances across his shoulder to already see you looking.

Flushed, you give him an awkward smile. “Uh, thanks for apologizing by the way. I appreciate it.”

He mimics your smile, looking so out of place that in other situations, you'd tease the hell out of him.

“Yeah, sorry again for acting like a dick,” he says silently, still being thoughtful of his daughter sleeping.

You give her one last look, smiling gently at her as Jungkook is holding her carseat tightly in his eyes.

“You can see her whenever you want, okay?” Jungkook almost whispers and your eyes widen, almost tearing up.

He just stares at you, not having any particular expression but you know he's aware of your shocked one and the way your eyes shine at his words.

“Just knock,” he tells you almost awkwardly, giving you a stiff nod. “We're just one knock away.”

All you muster to do is to nod and blurt out a soft 'thank you' before he wishes you a good night and thanks you for coming with him to the hospital. You just nod and wave him over, still staring at him as if he grew two heads. He gives you a weird look that is mixed with a soft one, until he tells you one last bye and closes his front door behind him.

Quickly doing the same, you close your door and stand in your small entranceway. Hands on your chest, over your quickly beating heart, you stare wide eyed at nothing specific as realization hits you.

You don't hate Jeon Jungkook at all.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook fic #dilf!jungkook #personasintro

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parkersbliss · 3 years

Text

Diamonds | K. Brekker

pairing; kaz brekker x female!reader

warnings: cursing, I think that’s it

wc; 2.3K

synopsis: dirtyhands doesn’t need anyone, but he wants you, even if he can’t have you

prompts: 001: “why do you care?” 047: “please just let me in.”

a/n: this went in a very different direction then I planned but I love it??

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

Kaz Brekker was a lot of things.

Emotionally unavailable was one of them.

But you never thought much of it. You didn’t think less of him because of that. Surviving the barrel meant being cold, ruthless, and cunning.

Everyone had to have some dark side to them. It was a given.

But Kaz’s dark side never turned off. He was always in a constant state of brooding, thinking about all the ways the plan could fail or coming up with a new heist.

His brain never shuts off.

You never considered that a bad thing, but everyone has to rest eventually.

But rest wasn’t a word in Kaz’s dictionary. For him, resting meant thinking about other things.

Things that he wanted to forget.

So he busied himself with work, numbers, and other things to push the other thoughts out of his mind. Sometimes they were about Jordie and the harbor, sometimes they were about Rollins or you.

Kaz never wanted to forget you, but he didn’t want to think about you either. About the way, your lips curved up into a smile every time Jesper threw his arm around you. Or the way you throw your head back every time Nina makes a joke, the way you sit patiently with Wylan when he tries to read, the way you train so gracefully with Inej, and the way you make fun of Matthias’ accent.

He wants to push it all out of his mind because he doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t get how he manages to notice every detail about you.

It would cost him eventually, which is why he didn’t think about it. It’s why he tried to busy himself with things that have nothing to do with you.

But sometimes, it doesn’t always work out that way.

It was moments like these where Kaz is in a constant state of don’t fuck up and don’t say anything.

Which never goes in his favor.

The plan was simple, break-in and walk-out. There were three separate sections to the museum, and the event kept everyone pretty busy.

All you had to do was get in, steal a few jewels and then blend in with the crowd for the rest of the night.

It should be easy enough.

You all dress in your best attire, at least, the best attire that wouldn’t slow you down if you have to run. Kaz’s breath hitches in his throat when he sees you. Silky fabric, exposed skin, and all your beauty.

He nods at you as you fall into step behind him.

“You look nice,” You said.

“Thank you. So do you.”

You all find yourself in an ally by the museum as Inej scales the roof for her way in. You know she’s successful when the back entrance pops open, and she leans against the door frame with a satisfied smile on her face; her green dress trails along the floor as you make your way inside.

Bright fluorescent lights illuminate the hallway, and the sound of heels and Kaz’s cane echo down it. Kaz pick locks the three doors with ease, signaling for the groups of you to go in.

Matthias and Nina are responsible for the smaller riches, Inej, Wylan, and Jesper take care of replacing them, and you and Kaz get the big stuff.

The room sparkles with diamonds, almost blinding you. To Kaz, it smells like money. For each piece stolen, the two of you replace it with a cheaper place holder.

By the time anyone noticed, you would be gone.

You grab a ring off a stand, slipping it on and examining it in the light.

Kaz coughs, and you turn to face him.

He holds the most expensive piece in his hand, a diamond necklace.

It’s worth more than a quarter of a million kruge.

“Woah,” you breathe out. The diamonds are arranged in such a way that it sits close to the neck, and looks like small interconnected leaves.

“Wear it,” Kaz said.

“Kaz-”

“You would look… pretty with it,” The last part is barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” You agree, taking the piece from his hands. Your fingers barely brush his gloved ones as you take the necklace, clasping it around your neck.

Then, Kaz steps back. “I think we got most of it.”

You can’t take all of the riches, but you can take enough to make some serious bank. You exit the room, Kaz locking it after, and meet back in the hallway with everyone else. Inej and Nina both drip in equal expenses and gasp when they see your necklace.

“I almost want to keep it,” You said, touching the diamonds.

“It does look stunning on you,” Nina said.

“I’m sure we have enough to keep that piece,” Inej said, gesturing to the jewelry between you all.

“I do not understand the need for stones to prove one’s worth,” Matthias said.

Nina pats his shoulder, “It’s like you Fjerdans and your fur coats.”

"Witch," Matthias mumbled under his breath.

Kaz takes the lead, directing you to the main room. You can hear the sounds of people chattering, classical music floating in the air. You all split into smaller groups, mostly pairs, to avoid detection.

You and Kaz stay towards the center of the room, observing everyone else and waiting till the event ends.

As Kaz’s eyes sweep the ballroom, yours sweep over his face, familiarizing yourself with his features.

He has sharp cheekbones, fair skin, and a pointed nose. His lips are drawn down into the softest frown, and there are bags under his dark eyes. His eyebrow twitches ever so slightly whenever he sees someone he doesn’t like, and he runs a gloved hand through his hair, slicking it back more if it’s possible.

He was beautiful.

After a few more moments of mingling, they prepare to bring the jewelry out on display. You and Kaz back towards the exit, just in case something goes wrong.

The fake one sparkles just the same, and a clear difference can’t be seen. It’s only glass that Wylan had managed to craft by himself.

The servant gulps, taking careful steps with the case in his hand. His hands shake, and as he takes the first step up the stairs, he stumbles.

It shatters.

The glass scatters across the floor, the fake necklace you planted aside does the same, the pieces landing everywhere.

You can practically feel Kaz tense next to you when the crowd gasps; actual diamonds wouldn’t break.

“Don’t move,” Kaz whispers. He makes a hand gesture to the rest of the Dregs around the room that means remain still. “Act just as surprised.”

On any other occasion, it would be easy, but when the original necklace is dangling from your neck, it’s like an open target for anyone with eyes. Murmurs flow through the crowd, but no one pays any mind to the Dregs because you all look like you belong here. They’re looking for the black sheep among the white.

But they all look just the same.

“We will be conducting manual searches,” The guards announce.

“Saints,” You whisper, hand instinctively grabbing the diamonds on your neck.

“Plan B,” Kaz said. He meets Jesper’s eyes across the room, nodding his head, and Jesper smirks. He grabs one of his revolvers, firing a single shot and tucking it away before anyone notices. The crowd screams, everyone rushing to the exits as more shots are fired from various parties (some from Jesper, some from guards, or others who just love chaos).

You all make a run for it, using the main exit where guards were desperately trying to keep everyone in.

You watch Inej slip through with ease, Nina and Mattias next. Jesper gets held up, but he managed to talk his way out of it as Wylan tugs on his sleeve.

You and Kaz are last, taking your time to avoid being pushed in by the crowd. You could run ahead, get out before Kaz, but you don’t.

You stay by his side and maintain the slow pace, even when there’s a quarter of a million kruge hanging from your neck.

As you approach the exit, you’re one foot out when someone grabs your arm.

“I got her!” The guard shouts. He starts dragging you back inside as you try to dig your heel into their foot.

Then, in the span of a second, a cane comes down on his arm, a clear snap ringing out.

You stumble from their grasp, unknowingly using Kaz’s shoulder to steady yourself. He hisses but says nothing more because as soon as you notice, you let go.

“Nina!” You scream as the guards come pouring out the entrance.

It was clear who the target was.

The heartrender holds up her hands, effectively dropping their beat, but you underestimate how many there are.

“Run!” Jesper shouts.

And you do as you’re told. The guards open fire, and you bunch your dress in your hands, running through the streets of Ketterdam. Kaz begins to fall behind, and you slow down your pace.

“Jes, throw me a revolver!”

“What?”

“Throw it!”

Wylan rolls his eyes, fishing the gun from his boyfriend’s pocket and tossing it at you.

“What are you doing?” Kaz said.

“Saving your ass!” You reply.

“I don’t need your saving!” Kaz retorts, glaring at you.

You roll your eyes, “Fine, I’m covering you.”

“I don’t need that either.”

“Kaz-”

“I don’t need you!”

You nod, turning away from him to hide the hurt on your face. “No, of course, you don't."

You fire a single shot at a guard, busying yourself in taking a few out, so Kaz doesn’t get hit. When he’s a good way ahead, you sprint after the rest of the Dregs. You see the tail of Jesper’s coat disappear down an alleyway.

You fire one last round of shots and duck behind it. You move past Kaz, catching up with Jesper and thanking him.

He smiles, bumping your shoulder. “Anything for the lady.”

The slat is in sight, and you sigh in relief, happy to rest and unload all the jewels everyone is dripping in.

You could only imagine the amount of kruge you’d come up with.

Jesper opens the door for the Dregs, and you all practically collapse on the couch. You Nina and Inej are all on one, kicking off your heels.

“I hate heels,” You said.

“You’re telling me,” Inej replied. “Never again.”

Nina shrugs, “Annoying as hell, but they do work in place of a knife every now and then.”

“I am never without my knives.”

“We know.”

Kaz walks past you all, limping a bit worse than usual and going up to his office.

You don’t bother following after him. Instead, you all dump the jewelry on the table.

“Oh, saints,” Inej gasped.

Jesper leans back in his seat, “I think we’re set.”

“You’ll gamble it all away before we even cash it in,” Matthias said as Jesper scoffed.

“It’ll take me at least a few months to lose that.”

“Months?” Wylan asked.

“Like six tops.”

Everyone begins to argue, and you tune them out. You forgot about the most expensive piece hanging from your neck, absentmindedly playing with it. When you remember, you figure the best thing to do with it is give it up to Kaz.

With a sigh, you stand up, the fabric of your dress falling back into place.

You don’t bother knocking on his door, you know you should, but you didn’t care all that much.

“Here’s your necklace,” You said bitterly, dropping it on his desk.

“(Y/N)-”

“A quarter of a million kruge, enough to set you for life. That’s all you need, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure felt like it,” You snap.

“I just-,” Kaz sighed, avoiding your gaze. “Keep the necklace.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You don’t?” Kaz asked, eyebrows raised. “I thought you liked it. You should have it if that’s the case.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

You click your tongue, “Keep the fucking necklace, Kaz.”

Kaz curses himself, tugging at his hair. He was making the situation much worse. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn't piss you off. He thought the necklace would be like a peace offering, a sign of his thanks.

It backfired on him.

He’s bordering the line of being cold or grateful. When grateful didn’t work in his favor, he went for the other.

“I want you to have it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Please, take it.”

“It’s worth money. That’s far more important to both of us.”

Kaz shuts his eyes, “(Y/N), please.”

And you know this isn't about the necklace anymore. It never really was.

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. You were tired of pretending to brush off your feelings. It was killing you. Every time you tried to do something, Kaz pushed you back. You couldn't keep doing this to yourself.

“You either want this, or you don’t. Which one is it?”

“Please,” he said softly.

You sigh, blinking harshly. Your heart hammers in your chest. You take a breath, trying to calm yourself.

“Kaz, I need you,” You said softly, “Please just let me in.”

“I can’t,” He said, voice strained as he fights his demons. God, he wants to, but he's scared. He's scared of pushing you away or hurting either of you in the process. He couldn't go through that kind of loss again.

“I will wait,” You said. “I will wait as long as you need. I just need to know that you’re in this too.”

Kaz meets your eyes. His are glassy as he holds the necklace tightly in his hands, running his gloved fingers over the diamonds.

He could lose you.

And that is far worse than not having you at all.

He slowly peels his gloves off. His movements are slow and deliberate, taking his time. When they’re off, he grabs the necklace and stands up.

You hold your breath as he stands behind you, brushing your hair out of the way. His fingers just barely dance across your skin, but they’re there.

He clasps the necklace, and you turn around to face him.

“Kaz?” You question.

“I need you too, (Y/N).”

“I’m not leaving," You assure him.

“Good. We’re in this.”

“We’re in this.”

#IM OBSESSED WITH HIM #I love kaz #I am speedrunning this requests #hehe #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker one shot #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker #grishaverse #six of crows imagine #six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone #s&b

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

The Arrangement (Ivar x reader x Hvitserk)

Oh boy, so I don’t normally write smut but this idea came to me and would not let me write anything else. So here we are, friends. (I’m honestly so nervous to post this.)

A huge shout out to @geekandbooknerd for beta-reading this for me and listening to my ranting. You are the best, you beautiful person!

Warnings: SMUT, some feels, Ivar being Ivar

Words: 5200

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

The fierce, blue eyes of Kattegat's king surveyed the Great Hall, full of people as they ate the evening meal. Jovial conversations, yells for more ale, the pop and crackle of the large fire, even the fist fight that broke out…. none of it attracted his attention. No, instead his clever mind wrestled with one simple problem. Something he was certain no other man ever had to worry about. This problem had lately been at the forefront of his mind, slithering through his thoughts like vipers, distracting him from his duties. Weeks now he mentally wrestled with seeking a solution. Wracking his brain as what to do. He even considered going to the Seer, but quickly rejected that idea. The Seer only ever spoke in riddles and it would only further muddle his already troubled mind. He cursed the gods with his lack of a solution, for putting him in this predicament.

But this morning as he lay in bed, willing the pain in his legs to diminish, a solution came to mind. It was so simple, something he should have considered long ago…. but one that required trust. Something which admittedly was not his strongest suit. But for this solution to work, to gain what he yearned for, he must trust. There was no other way. It was like the gods came to him, spoke into his mind during his slumber, explaining what he must do. Though he trusted no one completely, there was one who he could trust with this solution. And the rewards…. oh, the rewards would be well worth it.

Besides, it could be fun.

He observed where his brother sat at a nearby table, talking and laughing with some of their warriors. A broad grin lit up his face as he freely drank and shared stories. Although Hvitserk seemed to be fully invested in the conversation around him, from where Ivar reclined on his throne, he could see the way his brother's gaze darted frequently to another table nearby. Quick looks, never lingering, almost indiscernible from how his gaze shifted to his companions around him. But Ivar could see it. Many times he had witnessed his brother's secret looks. Now was the time to test it.

With a sharp order, Ivar sent a nearby thrall to summon the other Ragnarsson. Hvitserk glanced at Ivar with a confused expression before giving a single nod. As he rose from his spot at the tables, Ivar had a nearby thrall fill up his ale horn, eyes shifting from his brother to the one who continued to unknowingly entice the elder Ragnarsson. When Hvitserk stood at the bottom of the dais, leading up to the thrones, Ivar waved his hand, signaling for his brother to sit on the throne next to him. The Queen's throne. Your throne.

Surprise flashed across the face of the flaxen-haired Ragnarsson, eyes darting between the two thrones for a moment in surprise. Ivar wondered if thoughts of their beautiful mother crossed his brother's mind as he saw the throne as often as they did his own. After a second, Hvitserk shrugged and seated himself on the other throne. Silence persisted as they nursed their ales.

Looking over the crowd, Ivar returned his gaze to the one person who, beside his mother, he was most devoted to. You were smiling in a way that made his heart clench and his lips twitch, wanting to mirror your joy. He never understood your need to mingle with others during meals instead of remaining on your throne. At times, jealousy reared its head in his mind, but you always returned to his side, to his bed, sharing the latest gossip you heard or a particularly funny story. He would grumble but never admit how he enjoyed listening to you, or how he used that gossip to his benefit.

Now you sat with a few women he recognized as wives to wealthy traders in Kattegat. A baby lay in your arms as you spoke with enthusiasm to one of the women. With the light from the flames dancing across your face and the joy radiating from you as you cooed at the baby in your arms, Ivar knew there was no one as beautiful as you. Even more so than his mother. Every day he still found himself in awe that you chose him, you agreed to be his wife, that you loved him. It was enough to make him feel invincible. To conquer the world and lay it at your feet as an offering.

Without moving his head, Ivar peeked over at his brother, unsurprised to see him staring in the same direction. The horn of ale at his lips helped mask where his lingering gaze lay, but Ivar could see. He knew.

"I see how you look at her." Ivar said nonchalantly.

"Who?" Hvitserk questioned, eyes pretending to roam over the Great Hall.

Ivar smirked, fingers lightly tapping on the armrest of his throne. "My queen…. y/n."

"She is a beautiful woman. Is it wrong now to admire someone so clearly blessed by Freyja?"

"Ah, but I see your mind. You want to do more than admire, dear brother."

Hvitserk shifted uncomfortably, head snapping to the side to eye his younger brother warily. "What is this, Ivar?"

The young king leaned back, smirk still in place. After a tense moment of watching Hvitserk squirm, he dropped his voice so he knew only his brother could hear him. "I have a proposition for you."

"What?"

"I need your help with a…. sensitive matter."

The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson scoffed. "Is this Ivar the Boneless actually asking for help?"

"Will you help me or not?" He sharply retorted, trying to force down the rising anger that bubbled under his skin.

"Of course." He said with a sigh. "What is it?"

Ivar pushed off his throne, tossing back the rest of his ale and handing his horn off to a nearby thrall. "Come. We will discuss this in my bedroom."

He did not wait for his brother, already leaning on his crutch as he walked down the steps and down the corridor to the royal rooms. He hoped his plan worked. He needed it to work. Even if it meant trusting his brother with what was most precious to him.

*****

Your steps were sure as you left the Great Hall and walked down the corridor to your bedroom. You had seen Ivar and Hvitserk leave the evening meal some time ago, but assumed they went to discuss important matters somewhere quiet. So, you stayed to talk with your friends, something you cherished. It was important to you that even though you were their queen, they could be comfortable in your presence and feel free to speak to you. Plus, you enjoyed the juicy gossip passed around.

One of the guards opened the bedroom door for you. You nodded a brief thanks and walked in…. only for your feet to stutter to a stop after you entered. Surprise flooded you to see your husband and his older brother both in your bedroom. Ivar reclined on his favorite, wide chair near the lit fireplace but what was most perplexing was how Hvitserk sat on the end of your bed, elbows on his knees with a guarded expression.

"My wife will not be needing your assistance tonight." Ivar stated to the thrall who had followed you into the room. "You may leave us….and inform the guards we do not wish to be disturbed for any reason."

The thrall glanced over to you, since she was yours. The routine of helping you undress and prepare for bed, a regular occurrence most nights. At your murmured acceptance, she nodded her head and left, closing the door behind her.

"Is everything alright, Ivar? Have you heard something from your spies?" You quickly asked once the three of you were alone. Worry gnawed in your stomach. He had confessed to you late one night that there was a nearby earl he thought might try to attack and overtake Kattegat.

"Come here, my love." He held his leather-clad hand out for you to take, something you did without question. He guided you to stand between his open, brace-covered legs. With his other hand, he tapped his lips, a cheeky glint in his eyes. You giggled but obliged, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to his mouth in response to his wordless demand.

His hands on your hips, he looked up at you with devotion in those piercing blue eyes. A sight that made your heart melt every time without him even having to say a word.

"What is going on?"

"You know I love you, yes?" He softly questioned, still staring up at you like you were the moon and stars.

You cupped his cheek, his sideburns tickling your fingers. "Of course. And I love you."

"Mmmm…. the gods have given me wisdom as how to solve our problem."

"Our problem?" Your brows furrowed, confused by what he was talking about.

He pointedly looked at your belly then back up at you.

Then it hit you, and your heart broke a little at the heartache in his gaze. "Oh, Ivar, I told you…."

"It's been a year, y/n." He interrupted, the grief slipping into his voice, even as he struggled to hide it. "We've been trying for a year and there is nothing to show for it. I never thought I could pleasure a woman until you came along and I hoped…. I hoped I could give you a child. Our child. But it seems the gods still will not grant me that ability. I need an heir, and I want to see you grow round with a child. I want a family with you. Something I never dreamed of before."

Realization dawned on you as to why Hvitserk was in your bedroom. Eyes wide, you peeked over your shoulder at the other Ragnarsson, who was staring at the ground between his feet, then looked back at your husband.

"Ivar…."

"Hvitty has agreed. He will be my cock and plant a baby in you in my name."

This time you fully turned around to stare at the flaxen-haired brother. "Hvitserk, are you sure you want to do this?"

Gods, this sounded like something your husband would force his brother to do. Actually, you were beyond astounded that Ivar would even let another man touch you. Before your thoughts could follow that trail, Ivar's voice brought you back.

He chuckled darkly, an edge to his tone like he was confessing someone else's secret. "My brother can barely keep his eyes off you whenever you are around….and when I told him my idea, he agreed without hesitation."

You witnessed an adorable blush rise to Hvitserk's cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled under his breath. For a moment he looked like a young boy again, caught staring at his latest crush. It was so innocent and precious. Yet with the rumors you heard from some of the women of Kattegat, you knew he was far from innocent. There had been a handful of times you secretly noticed the Ragnarsson's heated gaze on you, but your mind played it off, thinking he must have truly been looking at someone else or he was just admiring your dress. Now your mind flipped through those memories with a different lens.

After giving your husband's hands a quick squeeze, you stepped out of his embrace. Heart hammering away in your chest, you watched the elder brother with a new understanding as you approached. This time you did not miss the way his eyes raked over your form or how he licked his lips almost in anticipation. The shiver that rolled down your spine startled you, but not unpleasantly so.

Almost in a mirror image, you stood between Hvitserk's legs, his hands automatically landing on your hips, just like how you stood with Ivar; but the way his hands felt unbound by leather and almost hesitant to touch you, was a reminder this was not your husband. After a moment, you cupped his face, his beautiful brown eyes meeting yours with such naked want in them, heat coursed through you.

"Are you sure, Hvitty?" You whispered.

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about laying with you." He confessed, a naughty smirk teasing his lips. His voice stayed low as you two traded secrets. "Are you alright with this…. arrangement? I know you love my brother, and I don't want to ruin that. Not for either one of you."

You continued to stroke his cheek as you pondered his question. There was no doubt that you loved Ivar with all your heart. He was the love of your life and you knew you were his. Hvitserk easily was the brother you always wished for. You enjoyed his flirtatious teasing, especially when it made the jealous side of your husband come out because the sex after that was always mind-blowing. The blond was someone you trusted wholeheartedly. Your life was perfect, you were happier than you ever thought you would be. But there was one thing you always imagined, one thing you silently yearned for. So it was with that in mind, your answer, your decision was an easy one to make.

"I want a baby."

His smirk grew, "I'll try my best to help with that."

You laughed. "Oh, so gracious of you."

He winked cheekily, taking one of your hands to kiss your palm slowly.

You shifted to meet your husband's cool gaze, with Hvitserk's hands gently kneading your hips. "Ivar, you are certain this is what you want? This won't cause jealousy between you and your brother?"

Ivar scoffed. "Why would it?"

"You threatened last month to gouge a trader's eyes out for staring at y/n too long." Hvitserk deadpanned. In the next second, he leaned over to lay a kiss on your hip meanwhile, his hand shifted to grab a handful of your ass cheek. You squeaked, surprised by the bold move in front of Ivar. As you tried to wriggle away, he only chuckled and pulled you to sit directly on his lap. It should not surprise you anymore how strong Hvitserk was, but somehow it always managed to catch you off guard. Though your mind certainly took notice of the bulge in his pants underneath you.

"He was talking only to her breasts. He is lucky I did not take at least one eye for his disrespect." Ivar leaned back in his seat. "You agree to this, my love?"

"I do." You answered.

"Excellent. Come here for a moment." He beckoned you to him once again.

Hvitserk released you, not before palming your ass as you stood up. You swatted at his hands, but the smile on your lips let him know you were not truly upset.

That smile only grew as you glided over to your husband. For all of his anger and wrath, none of it ever touched you. Instead he treated you delicately, reverently. As if you were a dream and with one wrong move, you would vanish. Or a goddess he vowed to continuously worship. You thrived under his tender touches, drawing you further and further into the ocean of his profound love.

He guided you to stand between his legs again and for a brief moment you felt like a ball the brothers were taking turns passing back and forth. You dashed the thought away before it made you giggle.

"I have one condition for our arrangement." Ivar said, intently watching your face. His finger traced the edges of your lips, as if to memorize them. "Only I own your mouth. I was your first kiss. So as I live and breathe, only I get the pleasure of your kisses. Hvitserk can kiss and touch you anywhere else but there. Agreed?"

You nodded mutely. The growing desire in his eyes caused your womb to clench and fire to begin warming your veins.

"Brother?"

"Agreed." Hvitserk said from his perch on the bed behind you, his voice sounding a bit gruffer than a minute ago.

Ivar turned those piercing, passionate eyes back to you. "My love…." He placed a kiss to the valley between your breasts, allowing his face to linger there a moment. You carded your fingers through his loosened hair, feeling his hands gently holding your hips. When he looked up, gone was the sweet, loving devotion in his eyes, replaced with something wicked. "Shall we teach Hvitty what you like first?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Take off your dress."

"I need help with the laces." You reminded him as he was the one to demand your thrall leave earlier.

"Ah, you are right. Go to Hvitserk, he will help."

Obediently, you walked the few steps back to the elder Ragnarsson wondering what game your husband was playing, but you could not deny the excitement thrumming in your veins. Without a word, you turned around to allow him access to the lacing on the back of your dress. You thought he would hesitate or his fingers would tremble knowing your husband was watching on. Instead they deftly plucked and tugged at the laces like he had done this many times. Once your back was exposed, his hand traced down your spine, causing you to shiver under the sensual touch.

Holding the front of the dress to your chest, you made your way back over to Ivar. Standing in front of him, his hands claimed your fingers from holding your dress to entwine with his own. Immediately, your dress slipped down your body to pool at your feet, leaving you completely bare before the two Ragnarssons.

Ivar's hands landed on your hips but instead of pulling you to straddle him, like you expected, he slowly spun you around and had you sit on his lap, facing his brother. What met your gaze was the wolfish look of Hvitserk, staring at you like you were something he wanted to devour. Ivar's hands slide up from your hips to cup your breasts as if offering them to his brother.

"Look at you, my goddess, my wife." Ivar whispered against your skin as he left hot, open-mouth kisses along the column of your throat. You could not help but whimper, your body so in tune with his. He barely had to touch you before your body begged for him to fill you. A dampness already coated your core. Without taking his eyes off of you, his hands fondling you in the way that made you breathless, he addressed his brother. "Is she not perfect, Hvitty? A goddess begging to be worshiped."

"Gods, yes. Perfect."

Normally you would be embarrassed by the praises. Now though, you felt like a lamb being toyed with by two wolves. Trapped by the lustful gaze of one and the feverish touches of the other.

Ivar's hands continued to fondle and pluck at your nipples, causing your head to fall back onto his shoulder. "That's right, you love these perfect breasts being played with, don't you?"

"Ivar…." His name was a needy whine coming off your tongue.

"Yes, my love. So sensitive. Just imagine it's Hvitty's mouth on them."

An unexpected, wanton moan escaped you at the thought. Your hips started rolling against your husband's lap, desperate for friction.

"Open your eyes." Ivar whispered into your ear. "Look at Hvitty."

You obeyed even though your body demanded to close your eyes and wallow in the pleasure Ivar could induce in you. As your gaze locked with the elder Ragnarsson, you felt one of Ivar's hands skim down your stomach to part your legs, exposing your core.

Instinctively, you started to close your legs only for Ivar to tsk and bite the junction of your neck and shoulder. "Don't be shy. Let him see that sweet pussy."

Your legs fell back open, allowing his hand free reign to touch you where you most needed it. Your body automatically arched into his hand, silently begging for more. Sweat already began to dampen you as the heat burned hotter under your skin.

"I swear Valhalla is between her legs, brother."

Hvitserk spoke up, his voice coming out rough and husky. "Touch her, Ivar."

"You hear that, y/n?" Your husband teased, licking a stripe up the column of your throat. "Should I touch you?"

"Please." You begged, too far along to care how needy you sounded.

He chuckled darkly, his hand dipped to your core, cupping and teasing you. You tensed as his skilled fingers played with your folds and clit but never entering you. He could tease you for hours, leave you on the brink as you begged for relief. It was a favorite game of his. You started to grind against him, your blood boiling with desire and the need for relief.

Somehow, he always knew when you were close, as if it was a sixth sense.

"She is close, Hvitty. Her pussy is weeping to be filled." He squeezed your breast, causing you to loudly moan.

"Do you want my fingers or my cock, my queen?"

"I want you, beloved." You answered in a breathy sigh.

His teasing ceased, almost making you whine. Gently, he cupped your chin, turning your head to gaze lovingly into your eyes. It always seemed to astound him that you desired him, not just physically but as a person, as a friend, as a lover and a soul mate. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, pouring in all of his devotion in a way you understood since words always failed him.

Slowly you rose to your feet but instead of walking away, you turned to face him. This was a dance the two of you had done before. Knowing what he wanted, you straddled his lap without fear of the wide chair breaking under your combined weight. This was not the first time you had made love on this particular chair by the fire.

Still gazing at you in awe and adoration, Ivar cupped your breasts. His thumbs teased your nipples. A low moan fell from your lips as your head tipped back. His mouth then descended on your chest, first leaving small kisses before taking one of your peaked nipples into his mouth.

"Ivar…." You groaned. "Yes, yes."

In an action well practiced, you were already reaching between your bodies to fumble with the laces of his pants. Without hesitation, you sank down onto him, being filled in the best way possible. Your lips sought out his, drawing pleasure from his mouth just as much as his cock. Your tongues swirled as your hips rolled. It was delirium. This pleasure he could bring out of you. It was all-consuming. No matter how much he teased, he was always gentle and reverent when it came to worshipping you. A slow, sweet burn that sunk into every fiber of your body, called forth your very soul to dance with his, just as much as your bodies writhed together.

You unlocked your mouth, throwing your head back with a loud moan as your pace increased, riding his cock, seeking your peak. His growls and words of praise only spurred you on.

Finally it came, crashing over you, eliciting a cry of Ivar's name loud enough the guards outside the door probably heard. Three more quick thrusts and you could feel Ivar spill his empty seed inside you. His head dropped onto your chest, both of you panting and sweaty.

"You're mine." He murmured against your skin as if reminding himself or branding the words into your naked skin. "You're my goddess, my queen, mine."

"Always." You whispered back.

After both of you came down from your erotic high, Ivar leaned up, pressing a toe-curling kiss to your already swollen lips.

"She's ready for you, brother." He loudly announced.

It was then you remembered Hvitserk in the room. So caught up in making love with your husband, you had momentarily forgotten what was to happen. You stared down at your husband, silently asking him if he was sure.

Ivar rolled his eyes but caressed your cheek with his calloused fingers. "It's alright. Besides, if you don't go take care of him, he'll probably blow his load in his pants soon."

You smiled, kissing him once more before carefully rising off his lap. As you turned to look at the flaxen-haired warrior, never before had you felt the seductress until now. With your husband's seed spilling down your thigh, you slowly walked the few paces to stand in front Hvitserk. With each step closer, his ravenous gaze devoured your nakedness; a predatory look that made your thighs clench and put a quiver in your belly.

"How do you want me?" You softly asked, standing before him.

He swallowed thickly, fists clenching and releasing before he cleared his throat and answered hoarsely. "Lie down on your back."

Embracing the inner seductress in you, you crawled across your bed, giving your husband and his brother a spectacular view of your ass. Nerves aflutter, you laid down on your large marital bed. Yet you could feel the longing ache between your legs growing the more you thought about what was to come.

Soon, Hvitserk hovered above you, completely naked. Although you loved your husband and his body, the sight of Hvitserk in all his glory made your mouth water and core clench in anticipation.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He confessed, barely above a whisper. "Gods…." His mouth landed on your neck, lavishing his affections using both teeth and tongue. Sweeping downward, his ministrations continued, drawing soft cries from you as he equally used his mouth and hands to caress all the curves of your body. Each touch, each caress, each bite and lick, all felt like he was trying to get himself drunk on the feel of your soft skin, your scent and the sounds of pleasure coming from you.

It did not take long for you to begin writhing underneath him, clawing at his back, utterly at his mercy. This desire he invoked in you was molten and drugging. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you fought to remember to breathe.

Pulling back slightly, he lined himself up. Then instead of gradually easing into you, he slammed into you until he was fully sheathed in your womanhood. A cry left your mouth at the same time as he groaned. You expected pain but instead your body readily welcomed the intrusion, hot and wet, waiting for him.

He pressed his forehead to yours, remaining frozen, giving you both time to adjust. "Gods…. this is Valhalla." He whispered with a touch of awe in his voice.

You rolled your hips; your body begging for more, for release, for him to bring you to new heights. "Hvitty…."

"Say my name." He grunted, a slow thrust accompanying it.

"Hvitserk."

"Again." This thrust was a little faster and harder.

"Hvitserk."

"Say it."

His name rolled off your tongue in a gasp as he slammed into you, stars appearing in your vision. "Hvitserk."

As a key unlocking, your fervid gasp seemed to unleash him. In the next moment, he began thrusting with abandon, almost animalistic in his pleasurable fury. He grabbed your hips, lifting them off the bed to begin pounding into you like a man possessed.

Never before had Ivar done anything like this and to your surprise…. you liked it. A lot.

Your hands clawed at the bed, desperate for something to hold onto. Cries of pleasure flowed freely from you. An inferno lived inside of you, threatening to burn you with ecstasy. Sluggishly you opened your eyes to be met with the sight of Hvitserk cradled between your thighs, sweat glistening on his flushed skin as he rocked into you, sending jolts of electricity each time. Those brown eyes stared down at you like he wanted to own your body and soul.

With a silent scream, your peak overwhelmed you. Your eyes slammed shut as your back arched, delicious waves of pleasure making your mind cease to function.

Hvitserk followed quickly, a growl splitting the air between you as his thrusts stuttered to an end and his seed filled your womb. He all but collapsed on top of you after, both for you sweaty and sated.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, his voice raspy and content. His head laid on your chest, his body seeming to be the only thing to keep you from floating away on waves of bliss.

"No." You mumbled languishly, too pleasure-drunk to say more.

He tipped his head to look at you, a lazy smirk on his face. "I really want to kiss you."

"You know the one rule." You reminded him, brushing a hand over his frazzled braids.

He hummed, then with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned forward and licked your lips. At first you just stared as he grinned at you, but giggles soon fell from your mouth.

"Hvitserk! What did I say?" Ivar demanded, walking over to sit on the opposite side of the bed.

Hvitserk rolled his head to look at his brother, but kept it on your naked chest. "I didn't kiss her. You never said anything about not licking her lips."

Ivar rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, as he unstrapped his braces and flopped onto the bed. His hand reached out for you, possessively tugging you out from underneath his brother and into his side. Not that you minded. You immediately curled against him, your eyelids straining to stay open.

"I'm alright." You answered the question you could see lingering in his eyes. "Just sleepy now."

He smiled fondly down at you, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead. Sleep called to you as you lay in your husband's arms. So wonderfully relaxed, your muscles were loose and your womanhood ached in the best way from the lasting effects of your pleasure.

The sound of movement made you tip your head to the side, only to see Hvitserk getting off the bed and reaching for his clothes.

"Where are you going?" You asked, your voice lethargic as if already infused by sleep.

Those brown eyes jumped from you to your husband and back. "I figured Ivar would want me to leave now so you two can go to sleep."

"Stay, Hvitty. The hour is late." Ivar replied, running a hand up and down your bare back. "Besides I plan on this arrangement until y/n is with child. You can stay with us."

With a tilt of his head, the brothers regarded each other for a long moment before Hvitserk chuckled, tossing his tunic back to the ground and crawling into bed in just his pants.

"Thank the gods. This bed is ridiculously comfortable."

You smiled, rolling over so your back was pressed to Ivar's chest, snuggling closer to him. His arm settled around your waist comfortably as he placed a kiss on the back of your neck. Snaking a hand over the covers, you reach over and entwine the elder brother's fingers with yours. Hvitserk startled initially but quickly brought your hand to his lips, a brief kiss on your knuckles, then laid it back on the bed, keeping your fingers entangled.

Sleep found you within minutes, tucked between the two Ragnarssons, one being your husband and the other who would give you a child.

Your last thought was wondering if Fate would allow this arrangement to work….and maybe continue.

#vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x you #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar smut #ivar x reader #Hvitserk #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk x reader #Hvitserk x you #mzwrites

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snowstark · 3 years

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counting to 100. 🍒

For @tonystarkbingo | Fill: Peter Parker/Spider-Man For @peterparkerbingo | Fill: Villain Redemption The one where the Superior Iron Man finds himself having a soft spot for Little!Peter who regresses after a stressful day as Spider-Man. READ ON AO3

The first time Peter saw him, it was when he was out on patrol.

He remembered hiding behind the line of hedges on the penthouse rooftop, stilling his breath like he was terrified that he could hear him. He remembered letting out a little gasp when the— the thing—armour?—wrapped around his body, enveloping him like a snake slithering up his torso, and remembered the way his blue gaze had snapped to his hiding spot. He’d known he’d given himself away that night.

But the Superior hadn’t done anything; his gaze lingered on Peter for a few moments before he disappeared, leaving behind a trail of dust as he shot off.

The second time Peter saw him, it was when he was sitting on the curbside of the empty playground, humming under his breath as he traced the alphabet into the sand. He’d had a rough day, and he could feel the familiar haze of warmth and safety and softness approaching him when he was interrupted by a set of sharp, clean black shoes at the corner of his vision. He jumped to his feet and stared with wide eyes. It was 4 in the morning; no one ever came to this area by now.

But this was the Superior, and he played by his own rules.

Peter’s chest tightened with fear and he stammered, “I— ‘m not—”

“You’re young,” the Superior noted, and Peter fell silent, wringing his mask in his hands.

Then, he looked down and gasped. His mask! He was— he wasn’t supposed to let anyone see— he tried to yank it back onto his face but a silver tendril shot out and wrapped around his wrist, making him choke on another gasp. “Please,” Peter whimpered.

“So fearful, little one. What scares you this way?”

And that— that was just a ridiculous question. The Superior was scaring Peter, and there was no way he didn’t know that. Peter knew who the Superior was, knew what he could do, but he was little right now, and fear only made him feel smaller by the second.

“I don’t—” A pitiful noise escaped Peter’s throat again, and the tendril retreated to hover over the letters scrawled into the sand. Peter followed the movement with his gaze. He’d stopped at ‘P.’

Then, the Superior wrote, slowly: ‘Q.’

Peter’s lips parted in surprise.

“What comes next, little one?”

Peter’s gaze jumped back to his face, and the armour melted away like a melting snowman. The Superior raised his eyebrows, and Peter bit his lip, then said softly, “R.”

The Superior’s lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s correct. Smart thing, aren’t you?”

Peter felt his cheeks tinting with warmth, and he ducked his head. The warm, fuzzy feeling was approaching his vision again, strong this time, even though deep down, somewhere in his brain, he knew he should be making an excuse, should be trying to put some distance between them, and get home safely.

But thoughts were hard. It was like trying to swim in mud. Fuzzy mud. And Peter wasn’t a caterpillar.

So, he looked down at the sand, bent down, and wrote ‘R.’ Then, he looked up at the Superior, who nodded, and he wrote ‘S,’ then ‘T’ and ‘U.’ He continued until he reached ‘Z,’ where he ended it off by drawing a little heart.

“‘m done,” he said softly, looking up at the Superior.

The man had his hands tucked into his pockets, and he gave Peter an impressed look, drawling, “Look how smart you are. Now can you count to 100?”

Peter blinked, and said uncertainly, “‘s— ‘s a big number.”

The Superior’s lips tugged into a smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit. “It is, isn’t it?” Then, he turned his head, like he was concentrating on something far away, and Peter got on his tip-toes to try to see too. Except he didn’t see anything but the dark, black sky.

Then, the Superior said, “Practice your numbers, little one,” before the armour covered him in a shimmering case of silver. He was gone within moments, leaving Peter standing there with nothing but the English alphabet etched into the sand.

--- --- ---

For some inexplicable reason, Peter found himself back at the playground again the next day. Someone had erased the alphabet, but he wasn’t upset. He could start again.

The weather was getting colder now. He’d have to bring a jacket or something to wear over his suit when he was done patrolling. He always got a little more chilly when he was slipping into that safe space too, like he was being poked by icicles.

He was sitting on the swings when the Superior arrived, as if they’d planned a rendezvous.

He looked up, surprised. The first day had been a coincidence, this was not.

The Superior was silent as the armour melted away, and Peter fidgeted nervously before squeaking out, “Hi.”

The Superior lifted a poised eyebrow. “You’re out late again.”

“Um, I patrol.” Peter lifted his mask up, blinking uncertainly up at him. “‘s my break time right now. And ‘m hungry.”

“Patrol, huh?” A coil of metal reached out to flick Peter under the chin, making him jump. “Brave boy, keeping this place safe.”

“Sometimes,” Peter said softly. “Because sometimes I see bad things on TV at school ‘n I have to go fix it.”

“Oh, do you? Is that why you can’t count to 100? Been skipping class too much, little dove?”

Peter’s lips formed a small pout before he could help himself. “I can count,” he protested, affronted. “‘s just a little bit hard, sometimes.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can always ask for help, can’t you?” The Superior approached him, watched his feet skitter nervously on the sand of the playground.

Peter nodded timidly, then asked, “What’s a dove?”

The Superior’s lips twitched. “You’re a dove.”

Peter looked down at himself, confused, then back up at him. “‘m not! ‘m just— ‘m just Peter.”

The Superior didn’t say anything, just watched him fidget some more on the swing before he murmured, “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

The Superior gave a slight nod.

“I like surprises,” Peter admitted softly.

“Well, then, you’re a lucky boy.” The Superior extended a silver tendril behind the bushes to draw something out.

Peter slid off the swing, eyes wide. Then, when the object was close enough for him to make out what it was, he gasped. “For me?”

The Superior nodded again, pressing the white teddy bear into his chest.

Peter grabbed it immediately, pressing his fingers into the fur. It was softer than anything else he’d ever touched; it didn’t feel like a cheap dollar-store purchase, but more like the type you would see on display at fancy clothing stores, sitting on the counter. He pressed his face to it, rubbing his cheek against it as he let out happy noises.

“What do you say?”

Peter’s gaze jerked up to meet the Superior’s expectant gaze. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “I love her.”

The Superior looked smug. “I knew you would.” Then, he turned around again, just like he’d done last night, staring at what only he could see, and Peter clutched the bear closer to him.

“Um— Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior didn’t turn his head.

“Can I— she’s mine?”

“She is.” With that, the silver armour began to ghost over his body again, and Peter almost watched with an air of desperation as his face disappeared from view.

“Mr. Superior?” he blurted out in a rush before he could leave.

The Superior waited.

“Um— thank you. Can I have 100 bears?” The words left without Peter realizing it and he gasped, mortified that he’d even asked such a thing. He sounded spoiled.

But the Superior just chuckled. “Maybe if you learn how to count, sure.”

“And um— will you— will you be here tomorrow, maybe?” Peter bit his cheeks, flushing.

The Superior tilted his head. “Do you want me to be?”

Peter ducked his head, shuffling his feet.

When he didn’t respond, the Superior told him, “I’ll be here,” before he turned and left the playground.

Peter watched him disappear, then looked down at the bear in his hands for a long time before heading home.

--- --- ---

The Superior met him every night after that, and that was just incomprehensible to Peter. He knew the man had better things to do. Maybe he was just interested in him because he knew he was Spider-Man.

But even that didn’t make sense, because the Superior never brought it up, nor did he try to hurt him. In fact, Peter found that the urge to go on patrol and be New York’s brave superhero was lessening in favour of being small with the Superior.

The Superior was nice to him. Nicer than anything he could’ve ever imagined. He always brought Peter nice gifts, like a snack, or a warm hoodie for him to wear, and even some hot chocolate.

He always said nice things to Peter too, like you’re a smart boy and such sweet manners, little one, I’m impressed.

But then, one night, for the first time, the Superior was upset with him.

Peter was terrified, and had nearly started sobbing as he collapsed into the swing, the meat of his palms pressed to his eyes.

“What did you say to me?” the Superior demanded, and Peter had never heard his voice like that before.

“I don’t— ‘m sorry—” he whimpered, breath quickening when he felt a tendril of metal wrap around his wrists, pulling them down from his face. “Just— just don’t wanna keep takin’ gifts, M-Mr. Superior, don’t want anymore—”

“Oh, no, no,” the Superior interrupted, his ice-cold gaze burning into Peter, and that didn’t make sense either, because ice was supposed to be cold, not hot. “That’s not your choice to make. It’s always the same thing with you little ants. Never happy, never grateful, only little brats.”

“‘m sorry!” Peter cried again, sniffling.

The Superior was quiet for a few moments, and all Peter could hear was the sound of the man’s harsh breathing in the space between them before it gradually deepened into its regular soothing rhythm. Then— “You’re a sweet boy.”

The words made Peter’s eyes fly open in confusion, and he asked tearfully, “I am?”

The Superior nodded. His gaze was more gentle now. Not soft like it usually was, but gentle. “And that’s why I keep bringing you gifts, little one. It’s rude to deny them when I’m being generous. I’m not always a generous man.”

“Just to me,” Peter sniffled.

“That’s right,” the Superior crooned. “Smart boy, always learning so fast. C’mere, little one, let your Superior teach you how to repent properly.”

Peter stumbled forward, scrunching his face as he mumbled, “I dunno what that word means, Mr. Superior.”

“It means you show me how sorry you are.” The Superior cupped his chin with a hand, tipping his face up. “Because you were rude, weren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter hiccuped. “‘m sorry.”

The Superior’s thumb stroked over his cheek. Then, he said, “No more tears, little one. I can tell how sorry you are. Had a bit of a scare, didn’t you, poor thing?”

And that was confusing too, because the Superior was comforting him like he’d just woken up from a nightmare when he was the nightmare. But Peter just pressed into the touch and mumbled again, “‘m sorry.”

“I know, little one. But you’re going to be so much more well-behaved now, I know it. You’re a good boy.”

Peter nodded timidly.

For the rest of the night, the Superior watched Peter struggle to complete the hopscotch he’d drawn for him in the sand before leaving.

--- --- ---

Peter was considerably meeker the next day, and he knew that the Superior knew. But he couldn’t help it; he just wanted to be good.

Eventually, the Superior said, “Want to do something fun, little one?”

“Fun?” Peter blinked, then asked softly, “What kinda fun?”

“Mmm.” The Superior tilted his head, eyes glinting. They almost looked like the moon in the sky, glimmering with light. Like a night-light, almost. “Do you want to fly, little one?”

“Fly?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “I— I can kind of fly.” He held his wrists out in demonstration of his web shooters.

The Superior chuckled, reaching out—with his hand, for once—to gently grip his wrist and tug it back down. “Oh, sweet thing, that’s not true flight. I can show you how to really fly. I promise it’ll be fun. A reward for being so good today.” He crouched down now, eye-level with Peter sitting on the ground. “Do you trust me?”

Peter stared at him, breath shallow in his chest. He wrapped a hand around the Superior’s finger, looked down at it, then back up at his face. “Yes,” he whispered.

The Superior reached out and picked him up, and Peter let him. “Good boy. Hang on tight.”

“Yes, Mr. Superior.” Peter did exactly as he was told, clinging to the Superior’s arms as they stood with his back to the Superior’s front. He could feel the familiar shift as the armour wreathed over the Superior’s body, but it didn’t cover him.

“Are you ready, little one?” The words were spoken in a low voice, quiet enough that Peter had to strain to listen to him.

“Uh-huh.” Peter tightened his grip, heart beginning to pound. He knew he’d be fine. The Superior hadn’t hurt him yet, and he wouldn’t now. And if he fell, well, he had his webs. He might be a little more clumsy with how small he was feeling, but he could do it.

Or maybe the Superior would be the one to catch him.

“Good.” With that, the Superior lifted off the ground, making Peter inhale sharply.

They went up, up, and up, until Peter was convinced that they could touch the sky. Then they were going forward, picking up speed, and Peter gradually found himself relaxing as fear left him, replaced by pure delight at the sight of the twinkling buildings illuminated against the night sky.

The wind was cold against his face as the Superior let them swoop down. Peter let out a thrilled yelp and let his arms fly out, the Superior’s grip on him the only thing keeping him held and safe.

There was a chuckle from above. “Little dove, flying through the air, hm? Daddy taught you how to fly?”

Peter grinned and twisted in his grip, and the Superior held tight. “‘m flying!” he shouted, feet kicking before he could help himself.

Another laugh, and the Superior didn’t say anything else.

Peter kept his arms extended as they shot through the sky, and the Superior even did a loop-de-loop when he begged him enough. Then, Peter pointed at a little apartment building that they zoomed by and squealed, “‘s where I live!”

“Is it?” the Superior murmured, sounding interested. “Do you want me to drop you off at home, little one? Is it bedtime for you yet?”

Peter shook his head adamantly, pouting. “Nooo, I wanna stay with you.” He glanced up, craning his neck, and found the Superior looking down at him.

“Always saying the right things, little dove.”

Peter smiled. He was being good, and now he got to fly with the Superior, and he’d ask if they could do the same thing tomorrow night, too. He was sure he’d get a yes in return.

He turned his attention back to the buildings they shot past, then gasped. “What’s that?” he pointed at the large tower standing tall and proud amongst all the other buildings.

“That’s my tower.”

“Yours?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “You live there? ‘s so big!”

The Superior nodded, speed picking up the slightest bit. “Do you want to see it?”

Peter didn’t hesitate. “Yes! Please!”

The Superior chuckled. “Well, only because you asked so nicely. I do have a weak spot for pretty words.” With that, he held onto Peter tighter before shooting off towards the tower.

Peter squealed, covering his face with his hands. “Can’t breathe!” he proclaimed dramatically, hearing the wind whip past his ears.

The Superior laughed above him. “Don’t be ridiculous, little one. You’re perfectly fine.”

Peter gave a little wriggle, but he didn’t voice any more protests as they neared the tower.

It was even more grand up close, with big fat letters that said “STARK” and windows that reflected the moonlight that shone down on them. Peter squirmed to get down, and when their feet landed on the platform, their shadows painted streaks across the floor.

“Wow,” Peter breathed, craning his neck to stare up at the sky. They were so close to the moon, he could feel it. He wondered what the moon would feel like in his hand. Cold and heavy, maybe. “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?”

“Can you get the moon for me?” Peter turned big, pleading eyes to the Superior.

The Superior chuckled. “Perhaps one day, little one.” He outstretched a hand, and Peter took it, obediently scampering by his heel like an excited puppy as they walked towards the open door.

The Superior led him inside, then let go of his hand. Peter immediately ran to the large windows and pressed his nose against it. “‘s so pretty.”

“Do you like the view?”

Peter nodded without turning to look at him.

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly to get his attention. Peter looked up and met a pair of pale blue eyes. “You see that, little one?” Peter followed the Superior’s finger to stare out of the window and at the sparkling city before him. “This is my world. This is my universe. I own it all. And if you’re good, I can give you some of it too.”

“For me?” Peter’s eyes widened. “But— but I dunno how to own it.” He could barely keep track of where he left his stuffies, never mind buildings.

The Superior chuckled. “Well, it’s why you have me. You can always ask for help.” He ran a soothing hand through Peter’s wind-tousled hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.” Peter blinked up pleadingly. “Pizza.”

The Superior rolled his eyes. “You always want pizza.”

“‘cause it’s good!” Peter pouted.

“Fine. But only one with veggies on it.”

Peter pulled a face, but he knew he’d already lost the fight. Maybe he could pick them off when the pizza came. He followed the Superior towards the kitchen, counting the number of windows they passed by. Then— “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior looked down at him.

“Can you— can you help me? Um, to count to 100?” Peter asked softly.

The Superior appraised him, then smiled. “Oh, little one, you most definitely asked the right person.”

Peter smiled, biting his bottom lip happily, then got up onto his tip-toes to plant a quick, shy kiss to the Superior’s cheek. “Thank you.”

He knew he could always ask the Superior for help.

part 2?? maybe?? tagging: @vaguekiwi @carelessannie @starkentrprises @thegreenmetblue @professional-benaddict

#starker #ironspider #sim!tony #peterparkerbingo2021 #tsbmv #little!peter #daddy!tony #my fics #please i did not mean to turn this into a 3k fic #idk if i’ll do a part 2 but maybe :0

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hslotharrie · 3 years

Text

To My Best Friend

summary: reader faces quarantine at Harry’s and, turns out, it was exactly what they needed to come clean. also, Anne is the superior Mum.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: completely fluff. with marriage + mentions of family? not edited... when do I ever edit

based off of this ask<3

When you wake, the sun is shining through a slightly opened window in the far left corner of your bedroom. You can hear birds chirping amongst themselves from outside, cars driving far in the distance, it's quiet at Harry's home. Peaceful.

It's been a little more than four months since you and Harry decided to bubble at the beginning of quarantine. What you expected to be a few weeks turned into a lot more, but there were no complaints. Harry has the space, is the type to crave company, and you're his best friend.

Best friend.

You roll in the soft sheets, hugging the covers for a few minutes until you inevitably force yourself to get up for the day. You're not sure what sort of expensive luxury bed set this is, but god, they are comfy. You make a mental note to ask him later.

You zone out again on the soft sounds of the birds and the pleasant cool breeze flowing in through the window. You pull your phone from the bedside table to check the time, 10:56– and the weather, sunny and 78. You consider getting in the pool later.

Harry's phone rings somewhere outside of your room, followed by some muffled mumbling from the man himself signalling that he's awake too. You wonder if he's ate yet; he's a sucker for your omelettes and you're craving one about now.

You climb out of bed, going to the bathroom to tame your hair and brush your teeth, before heading to the kitchen to put together ingredients for the omelettes.

It's about 10 minutes before Harry appears in the kitchen, provoked by the smell. He places a hand on your lower back as a silent 'good morning!' while he stands to your side to admire your cooking. You try your best to ignore the warm feeling that his touch brings; the feeling that makes you wish for more than just a touch.

It makes you nervous, how quickly his presence has you feeling butterflies or how fast he can make you smile when you're in the darkest of moods. You've been sitting on the feelings for years, they were always there, hiding in the back of your head. The feelings that made you wish you'd shared that drink with him just for the second-hand contact to his lips.

Those are the thoughts that make you nervous. You try not to think about them when he's standing right next to you watching your every move with a wandering hand on the small of your back.

He's dressed in a colourful flannel and some shorts, you notice, much different than your fresh out of bed joggers and t-shirt. You make a mental note to change later, and you consider stealing one of his flannels (there's the thoughts again,) just to have his smell on you.

He pulls away from you to begin setting up the eating area, bringing out cups and silverware and then returning with a plate when he senses the omelette is nearly done. He stands to your left with the plate held in both hands like an excited toddler and when you flip the breakfast meal onto his plate he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead in thanks. The thoughts come rushing back; I like when you kiss me, Harry.

"D'you have any plans for today?" he quizzes, before taking a drink of his orange juice.

"Was thinking about going in the pool later," you tell him, "it seemed nice out, an' I love your pool."

"I rather like my pool too," he chuckles "I'll join you, yeah? Could go for a swim later."

When you finish eating, Harry takes the plates to wash despite your protests. You cooked, he argues, so he cleans. You glance at the time, almost 12, and decide that the time it will take to change and freshen up will be enough for your stomach to settle and therefore a swim will be safe.

Returning upstairs, you first search for a bikini and then your sunglasses, changing and adding a pair of shorts. You brush your hair, throughly this time, and tie it up to avoid contact with the chlorinated water.

Before you go back downstairs, you take a minute to look at yourself in the mirror— doing your best not to allow the thoughts to come forward. (You don't think about how your body will look to Harry, and you definitely don't allow yourself to think about what he might think about the bikini you chose. Absolutely not.)

When you return downstairs to the kitchen, the dishes are washed and on the drying rack. Grabbing two cups and straws, you fill each about half with ice and then filtered water; and carry them both out to the poolside where Harry sits contently in the sun.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry's eyes travel along your body through his sunglasses when you appear from inside of the house, wishing he could touch you. His brain flicks back to the phone call he had this morning with his Mum, how she encouraged him to make a move because she knows you're meant to be. His stomach flips thinking about it.

"Do you remember when we went to that party and you pushed that guy into the pool because he was flirting with me?" you smile, sitting down beside him and handing him one of the cold waters.

"Mm, we had to leave because he was gonna' beat me up," Harry chuckles, "I was drunk. Probably lucky he ended up in the pool."

"You were being protective! It was cute!" you defend, rubbing his back lazily in comfort. He looks at you in a funny way, smile faltering a little before he returns his eyes back to the pool.

"M'gonna test the waters so the princess doesn't freeze," He proposes, rising from his seat when you give him a playful smack.

You rise as well, shimmying off your loose shorts and moving to sit at the side of the pool. Watching harry submerge himself first, you let your legs dangle off of the edge and into the water. It's cold, but a pleasant, enjoyable cold in the hot sun.

You sit contently for a few minutes, enjoying the water on your legs and watching harry swim back and forth. You lean back and turn your attention somewhere else, trying to avoid being caught staring. Suddenly, though, a hand brushes up the side of one of your submerged legs, informing you of Harry's presence.

"Y'coming in?" he asks, standing now. He's tall, so your faces are about level now.

"Are you in a hurry?" He's close enough now that he's dripping cold water on your skin.

"Maybe,"

Suddenly, he's gripping your waist to lift you and pull you into the water. You squeal, grabbing his shoulders as leverage as he practically drops you into the water that feels ice cold against your warm sunny skin. He laughs loud and happy when you splash water in his direction as payback.

Soon, both of your energies mellow out. Harry's on his phone, while you're floating around in a doughnut shaped floatie. Harry snaps a photo, but you don't notice.

When it's time to get out, Harry offers to go grab the towels while you float around for a few more minutes. He's driving you crazy in the best way. Your skin still tingles where he had touched your sides to lift you into the water, and your palms burn with the memory of his bare shoulders.

When he returns, it's like his energy has changed. The sight of a shirt over his chest makes you frown momentarily, and he's light on his feet rather than the happy strides he took on his way into his home. You see him tuck his phone into his pocket as if he's been talking to someone again, and when his eyes meet yours the wide smile is hiding something else.

When you slip out of the doughnut and climb up the pool ladder, he mumbles a soft "c'mere" and wraps the towel around your shoulders. His eyes watch you for a little longer than they should've.

"Mum called again," He murmurs.

"I's she doing well? Is that who called this morning?" you question, keeping your attention on his eyes.

"Yeah, woke you up I suppose,"

"Not at all!" You defend.

He goes quiet, picking at his fingernails (a nervous habit you notice he's developed since beginning to paint his nails) and looking off to the side to avoid holding eye contact with you. This makes you nervous, he's never this way around you.

"Harry,"

"I'm sorry, 'shouldn't be such a big deal," he says, letting out an awkward laugh.

A soft smile appears on your face, taking his hands into yours to part them. Gently, you move towards him, pressing yourself wordlessly into his body and allowing his hands to wrap around your towel-covered body. It brings him comfort, and you ignore your own heart beating at the contact.

"Better?"

"A little." He admits. He loves holding you, and sure, it helps his nerves, but he's going to tell you.

His Mum's been on him since he told her you'd be staying with him, telling him “now or never, Harry!”, and he's beginning to realize it really is now or never. He doesn't know how long quarantine will keep up or how much longer you will decide to stay, and he misses you even when you're just running something as simple as a grocery trip.

He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows a friendship as strong as yours could work through anything, Still, there's always the possibility that things could go bad. “Get out of your head!'”Anne would say.

This type of topic between the two of you is quite common, given Harry's music and your tendency to be quite open. However, this type of topic concerning the two of you is uncharted territory.

He thinks about the story you'd brought up earlier. When you'd both went to a party together and some guy, very obviously drunker than the both of you, tried to flirt his way into your pants before Harry had pushed him into the pool himself.

The truth is, he knew you would hold your ground if you weren't interested. Actually, Harry knows from first-hand experience that you don't need protection, you can be very vocal when you need to be, and he's even seen you deck someone at the bar a few years back for touching one of your friends. You were the protector.

That's why, upon seeing Harry at such a nervous loss of words, you had hugged him. It was your own way of protecting him.

"I wasn't trying t'protect you when I pushed that guy into the pool." He states, quiet and unsure.

You only hum in reply, allowing him to finish his sentence but letting him know you heard what he said.

" 'was jealous."

What?

"What?" you pull away from him only slightly, “why?"

"I didn't want stupid—" he pauses for the name "Josh, or whatever, t'be the one to take y'home."

You give him a confused look, now that you can see his face. Not putting two and two together.

"Josh is great! I love Josh—"

"More than me?" he murmurs, and it clicks.

Oh.

"Of course not... Harry," you hesitate, watching his eyes move between your own and his jaw clench.

Is this happening?

"I wanted," his shaky hand finds your arm, sliding down to take hold of your own, equally shaky left hand to toy with your fingers.

"I wanted t'take you home. Crawl into bed with you. Whatever else." he finishes. His stomach is in butterflies by now and he feels the tight, anxiety feeling in his lungs.

It catches him completely off guard when your lips are on his.

When you try to pull away, scared you've overstepped, his mouth only follows your own and his hand rises to your jaw to hold you steady. He feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, holding you, kissing you, like this. This is what he's needed.

When you finally do pull away, it's to go inside. Harry erupts in happy laughter when you make a beeline up the stairs. Nothing happens though, it's too soon and Harry agrees, but that doesn't stop you from curling into Harry's sheets, cuddling and kissing each other while watching one of your favourite films.

Catching up on missed time.

***

The wedding reception.

How did we end up here?

"Honestly," Harry speaks loudly to the crowd of your family and friends within the dinner hall "I have two people to thank for sealing the deal."

You smile wildly, knowing exactly which story he's about to bring up. Your eyes travel through the table groups you and Harry had spent so much time planning out. When your eyes catch with Mitch's he gives you a wink.

"Anne, my beautiful Mother, thank you for not letting me coward out of finally telling my girl how I felt," he pauses, you place a hand on his knee

"And Josh—"

You can't hold back the laugh, especially when the entire room turns to face the poor, completely unsuspecting victim. Josh, face red and confused smile on his lips.

"Years ago, when I pushed you into that pool at your birthday party because— you would've killed me if I didn't run! Because you were talking to her and I got jealous!" the room is erupting in laughter.

The room is full of the most important people in your's and Harry's lives. Still though, your happy eyes are glued to Harry, working the small crowd of people as per usual and telling a story about the time of and before quarantine; of when you'd basically moved in with him and never left.

Later, when you're wrapped in warm blankets and Harry's arms, you're reflecting on your day. The guests, who you'd talked to, what you'd heard.

"Wow. I'm married." he dumbfounds.

Wow is right.

"We're married." you restate for him, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Wow. I'm married to my best friend.”

Giggles boil over in the dark room. Harry is astonished suddenly, pupils blown, wide grin on his face. He presses quick kisses to the side of your face and you snuggle into his side more.

"I think we win, H."

#i feel like this was sorta rushed but hskdjsks it’s fine #can you tell i love the zane lowe interview #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #fineline #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles friends to lovers #harry styles marriage #request #not edited

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julemmaes · 3 years

Note

ahem... cassian taking nesta to that bookstore (fluff, don’t try making shit sad aight?)

Our First Non-Date

SURPRISE I GUESS!!

Nessian Archeron x Cassian

You can find the first part here.

A/N: this month has been really nice on me. I finally feel better, not crying every day for literally nothing and I wanna dedicate this to my fren Sim (@perseusannabeth) cause homegirl just finished the offcampus series and she's grieving. I know she is. So yep. Take some Nessian fluff

And Nina, I had to add some angsty parts, but they're not Irene Angst Level, okay?

Word count: 6,833

When Cassian had called her back the night after their outing with Amren and Varian, she'd stared at the phone for a full minute until it had stopped ringing and she could go back to reading the article on poisonous plants that Elain had sent her.

It hadn't even been five minutes before the words had been obscured from the call screen again and the name "Cassian Navarro" appeared.

When she had ignored the call for the second time as well, he had decided to change tactics.

Hi Nes, I was thinking about when you'd be free to go to the library. I need a couple of manuals because I'm building a little gazebo in Rhys and Feyre's garden and your sister is putting a lot of pressure on me, so I was wondering if you had the day off tomorrow.

Nesta was stunned at the amount of useless information he had given her, but managed to reply with a simple, Working tomorrow, day off on Wednesday. Sending you the address later.

She certainly hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to get up that day, her will to live must have been hiding somewhere under her bed and Nesta didn't know if it was directly related to their going out or just her stupid brain not being able to connect to real life.

The only other worst thing she'd been able to think of at that moment was having to explain to Cassian what was going on, so, pulled out of bed by the future embarrassment they'd feel in such a situation, she'd managed to dress, wash and style her hair so that she had a braid crowning her head.

She hadn't put too much effort into deciding what to wear, after all, it wasn't a date and Cassian had seen her many times before in far more outrageous and scruffy clothes than the comfortable black jeans and grey jumper she was wearing right now.

The silence had made her uncomfortable at first, only because Cassian seemed to be really stressed - about what, she certainly wouldn't ask - but after about ten minutes, he'd turned on the radio and popped a CD into the player and the melody of a Verve song had filled the cabin.

She'd started humming under her breath and he'd looked at her with a faint smile on his lips and his eyes sparkling. She hadn't mulled over that look too much, but she'd started eyeing him more closely and noticed the way he narrowed his eyes at every street sign and how he ran a hand over his face every time a strand of hair landed in front of his eyes.

When Cassian had to blow the hair out of his face for the millionth time, Nesta pulled a rubber band off her wrist and handed it to him abruptly.

Cassian looked surprised, but took it almost immediately, brushing her fingers. Nesta immediately withdrew her hand, feeling how warm and calloused his were.

"Thanks, my hair is killing me today," he finally spoke.

Nesta continued to look ahead, noticing that they were about to enter the highway. "Well, it wasn't very wise of you not to tie it up before you got in the car. I never drive with my hair down."

He nodded slowly, still with the band clutched between his fingers. And then, suddenly he let go of the steering wheel, "Hold that for me for a second." and Nesta's eyes went wide, launching herself at him to grab it and keep the car in their lane.

"Are you nuts?" she almost shrieked, keeping her gaze fixed on the road and feeling every nerve ending vibrate with anger.

"Relax." he said in a calm tone, shifting her hands and gently pushing her back into her seat one more time. "It wasn't even five seconds."

Nesta huffed out a laugh that lacked amusement, "You do something like that again without warning me first and I'm getting out of the car."

Cassian looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "A bit dramatic, but alright."

She sighed, shaking her head slightly and resting it on her hand propped against the window.

That awkward silence fell again and Nesta couldn't figure out what the problem was. She hadn't felt any kind of unease three days before, but after all, they'd been with friends and busy walking, not stuck in a car for two hours with no chance of walking away or splitting up.

And in that moment, the reality of their situation overwhelmed her.

She forced herself to steady her breathing, opening the window slightly so that more air could get in. She forced herself to think about all the things she would see today at the library and how beautiful and spectacular it had looked from mere pictures. She wasn't going to let her twisted mind stop her from having fun with someone who was desperately trying to be her friend.

She took a deep breath and a surprising calm enveloped her. She looked to her left to see if Cassian had noticed that temporal change in her behaviour, but it seemed to her that he was just as fidgety.

She was about to ask him if he was okay, because the knee that kept bouncing and the fingers opening and closing on the steering wheel were obvious nervous tics, when he did the eye thing again, this time leaning forward over the dashboard as well, and the sharp turn he took to the right caused her to shift in her seat so much that she bumped her shoulder against his.

Cassian grimaced, "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What's wrong?" she asked, readjusting in her seat.

"Sorry?"

"What's the matter? With your eyes, I mean."

"Oh." he seemed surprised by the question, almost as if he hadn't realised she'd been observing him for the last twenty minutes. He cast her a curious glance immediately returning to the road. "I wear glasses when I drive, but I couldn't find them this morning and these contacts are the wrong shade and I can't see very well."

Nesta nodded thoughtfully, "Where do you normally keep them?"

"In the glove box. But I already checked," he replied, rolling his shoulders. Another nervous tic.

Nesta had to suppress a smile. There was no way he could be so worked up just because they were talking. She looked down at the phone in her hand to check the time, and a flash of light momentarily dazzled her. She blinked a couple of times and then scoffed, "Found them."

She reached a hand towards the hatch compartment and pulled out a pair of very plain black glasses, handing them to him. Cassian seemed to finally relax since she'd gotten into the car.

"Thank fuck." then he pulled into a lay-by and without turning off the car, slipped two fingers in his eye, removing one contact and then the other, leaving Nesta stunned. He put the glasses on his nose and flashed her a smile that went from ear to ear. And Nesta was stunned for other reasons.

She couldn't deny that Cassian was an attractive man. She wasn't stupid or blind, but the man next to her should have come with a warning sign or a bell.

Attention, hot stuff coming your way.

Nesta forgot the comment she had wanted to make about how antigenic and risky it had been to remove his contacts without first cleaning his hands and in such a dirty environment.

His hair tied back in a messy bun, with the hint of a beard he was letting grow, and now his glasses on, Cassian looked like a model on the cover of a newspaper about sexy carpenters. The short-sleeved black shirt he wore that pulled on his huge biceps every time he moved in the slightest was just one more point to add to the list of things that made him appealing.

"So," he began, getting back on the road, "what's your favourite colour?"

Nesta snorted, "Are you serious?"

Cassian seemed to blanch, "What?"

"Have you ever been out with a girl?" she asked him sarcastically, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle popped out on his face, "Only on dates."

"And this isn't a date." pointed out Nesta, holding back a laugh at how tortured he sounded.

"It's not."

Nesta touched the tip of her nose, thoughtful, "Shouldn't this be easier for you then?"

Cassian released a breath through his nose, "I'm under a lot of pressure right now."

"Yeah?" she asked, looking away and smiling.

"Yeah, and stop looking like you're enjoying it." he retorted.

She feigned innocence, "Enjoying what?"

"My pain." he sheeted.

Nesta laughed, unable to contain herself any longer and when he glared at her, she covered her mouth with one hand, laughing harder. Only when he snapped his fingers against the steering wheel did she stop, laying a hand on his arm, just for a few seconds, "I'm so sorry." she wheezed, "I just don't understand. When you're hanging out with my sisters or Amren, or Mor, I don't know, you don't seem to be in this much discomfort."

Cassian sighed again and Nesta chuckled one last time, stopping when he smiled slightly. "I'm just trying not to make you uncomfortable. You accepted I take you on this non-date, and I'm doing my best not to flirt badly with you every chance I get." he confessed, nodding slowly, as if to convince himself that he was doing the right thing and not wasting their time.

Nesta was genuinely surprised at his answer and decided to offer him an olive branch.

"My favourite colour is blue."

"Nice." he smiled, showing a hint of a dimple, "Mine is red."

"It's too bright of a colour," she said lightheartedly.

Cassian chuckled, "I'm pretty sure it reflects my peppy personality."

Nesta nodded, "I read an article once about how a person's favourite colour says a lot about the person themselves," she said annoyed, "It sounded like one of those quizzes you find in gossip magazines, like it was written by a third grader. I hate those things, like horoscopes."

He grunted, "God, Mor's obsessed with horoscopes..."

The conversation continued without any more awkward silences for the remainder of the ride, and when Cassian turned onto a bumpy road, Nesta knew they were close. Of course, even if she hadn't looked at the directions from her house to the place, the myriad cars parked along the road would have been an indication.

They parked in the first vacant spot they could find and as soon as Nesta was out of the car, an icy gust of wind hit her face, making her shiver with cold. She looked over the bonnet at Cassian and found him staring at her with a half smile on his face. He'd left his glasses in the car and had let his hair down again, her hair band on his wrist, and he looked even prettier than before.

"Do you want my jacket?" he asked her, with a conflicted look on his face, as if he didn't want to. Nesta narrowed her brows and he hurried to add, "There's no hidden agenda to my offer, just a friend lending a jacket to another friend."

Nesta watched him for a moment, trying to really understand his intentions, but then remembered reading in one of the reviews that the library was heated inside and shook her head.

Cassian gave a small nod of assent and then pointed down the street, "Shall we?"

From where they had parked to the library it would have been about a ten minute walk and Nesta couldn't help but notice the way Cassian kept his distance between them as if he was afraid she would get scared and run away.

He was back to fidgeting nervously with his fingers and when he realised she was looking at him, he put them in his pockets, smiling tensely at her. He took a deep breath and then said, "So, what do you know about this library?"

Nesta looked ahead, hoping to catch a glimpse of the building, but the foliage of the trees was still too thick and they were still too far away for it to see anything. She brought her hands to her stomach, crossing her fingers, "I actually did a bit of research before I came. Did you know that the Peace Treaty between Prythian and Hybern of 1864 was signed here?" she asked in an excited voice.

Cassian smiled at her so naturally that she felt herself blush. He had an expression she couldn't decipher, but Nesta had never been good at cracking people in general, so she didn't venture to continue until he said, "Tell me more."

And Nesta launched into a detailed description of the events that had taken place inside the building, which only a hundred years before had become a bookstore. Only one wing of the building had been furnished in such a way as to become a real shop, the rest had been set up to be visited as a museum, one of the oldest libraries. She talked about the architecture and how it was obvious that the palace had been built long before it became an important meeting place for scholars and researchers.

"And in 1932 a fire destroyed the science wing, burning more than a hundred textbooks." Nesta sighed, thinking how devastating that loss had been. She lit up with happiness when she remembered what happened next. "But luckily, one of the most important literary clubs in the city got together and they managed to recover a small portion of the books. It took them years to rewrite every manual, but they got help from one of the local researchers, a certain Mr. Hawthorn, I can't remember the name or details of the research, only that he's mentioned often in the article I read."

When she paused to catch her breath, Nesta realised with immense horror what had just happened. Cassian had not spoken a word after asking her if she knew anything about the place and she had monopolised the conversation without even acknowledging him once. She felt herself flare up and knew in that moment that any hope they had of becoming real friends was gone.

Sometimes she would get lost in thought and ramble on about the things she was passionate about. Quite often people had stopped her, letting her know they weren't interested in the subject, but Cassian had never interrupted her and she was afraid to look at him, convinced she would only find boredom and disgust on his face.

That was why, when he spoke, she was struck dumb.

"I'm impressed." he breathed, chuckling immediately afterwards.

Nesta pushed herself to look at him and he stood admiring her with his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn't find the words. She felt her heart clench in her chest so tightly that she didn't know if she could survive the pain. Who knows how many times he'd tried to stop her and she'd gone on and on about windows and arches and treaties of peace.

But when she got a better look at him, stopping in front of him, Cassian looked... happy.

He let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair, and Nesta was distracted for a moment by the sway of his arms before she was brought violently back down to earth when he said, "You surprise me more and more every time, Nesta."

And the way he said her name - Ne-sta - made her toes curl.

"Why?" she managed to throw out in a weak voice.

Cassian laughed again, raising his eyebrows so high they ended under the hair on his forehead, locking his eyes to hers. "I have a degree in history and my final thesis happened to be on this very library." Nesta felt the ground open up beneath her feet and hoped it swallowed her alive. "I came out of university with top marks and various accolades for finishing my studies on time and you, dreadful creature that you are, have just taught me at least three new things about this place."

His gaze was so intense that Nesta had to lower her head to hide the satisfied and surprised smirk that popped up on her lips.

"You're amazing." huffed Cassian, "Perfect in every way."

She shrugged.

"Although," he clicked his tongue against his palate, "You made a mistake."

Nesta looked up at him, frowning, "Oh, yeah?"

Cassian nodded, smirking fiercely, "Why don't you turn around and admire the palace, and once we're inside, I'll explain what it is?"

She must have been so lost in her chatter that she hadn't noticed that they had arrived in the large entrance forecourt, because when she turned, her back to Cassian, the building stood among the forest trees, as imposing and splendid as ever. The photos had not done it justice in the slightest and Nesta was left speechless.

Living in a country with a history going back millennia, it wasn't hard to stumble upon historic streets with old buildings and monuments, but this was completely different.

She was still admiring the way the stone around the windows had been carved to look like trees trying to get into the building when she felt something settle on the small of her back. A hand.

Nesta stiffened slightly, before closing her eyes and relaxing.

Cassian must have noticed her discomfort because a moment later his hand was no longer touching her.

They entered the museum part of the building in silence and Nesta paid the entrance fees, reminding him of the tea he'd offered her last Sunday and Cassian hadn't been able to argue with that.

They had just passed the doors to the first room, the smallest in the entire palace, when he leaned towards her, to the point of touching her ear with his lips.

The fact that he was whispering as if they had been in a sacred place did things to her little icy heart, "Mr. Hawthorn was not a man."

Shocked by that information, Nesta's head snapped in his direction and she realised too late that she had miscalculated the space.

Her lips brushed against his cheek, the corner of his lips, before Cassian reacted so quickly he startled her, but avoiding them both an involuntary first kiss. His sudden movement caused him to lose his balance and he reached out his hands towards her, straightening as he held on to her shoulders.

Both of them were holding their breath.

Cassian cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the wall of books, but returning to look at her soon after, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, you just surprised me," she said when she had recovered. "I must have read the article wrong."

He was still watching her and shook his head, "Oh no, I don't think it's that. They only found out a few months ago that it was Georgina and not George Hawthorn. They found letters in the house of what was thought to be Hawthorn's wife. Some people think they were just friends, but anyone who has read the letters they exchanged knows full well that they were lovers. Anyone who says otherwise is either homophobic or stupid."

Nesta realised that she could have listened to this for hours on end. And so it was.

The visit continued relatively quietly, Cassian explaining every detail to her, expanding on things she already knew and when he forgot something, she would step in and have her say, commenting on every little aspect.

She'd noticed how Cassian hadn't tried to touch her anymore and how whenever someone was about to bump into her, he'd vocally warn her instead of wrapping an arm around her shoulders to move her out of their way like he had on Sunday.

The visit to the museum lasted less than expected unfortunately, because Nesta hadn't had this much fun in too long. It was becoming easier to smile at him or tease him when he said dumb things and even he seemed to finally be more at ease when he had to make jokes that smacked of him.

When they finally got to the shop, Nesta couldn't stand on her feet anymore, she just wanted to buy all the books she saw and go home and arrange them on her shelves.

"Which section do you want to see first?" she asked him, even though she had started hopping impatiently about the place.

Cassian gave her a smug look, "Why don't you go wherever you want and I'll look for the manuals for the gazebo in the meantime? That way you don't waste time keeping up with me. I'll be right there."

Nesta let out an excited squeal and ran off, hearing only the echo of laughter that shook Cassian from head to toe.

***

As Cassian flipped through the various books to find a picture of a gazebo that looked similar to the one Feyre had requested, he kept casting glances at Nesta.

Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed book after book without even reading the synopses. She was in the romance novels section, from what he could see from where he stood, but soon ended up in the classics, where she grabbed just as many books. She moved to the mystery books section, this time stopping to read the plots and putting most of them back on the shelves.

Then, surprising Cassian, she walked over to where the historical novels were and turned to face him. He bent his head to the side, raising an eyebrow to ask her what she was doing there. Nesta seemed at a loss, trying to move all the books from one arm to the other to point him to join her, but Cassian was already halfway there and when she looked back up at him and found him standing in front of her, she gave him a bright smile.

"Hello." she exclaimed.

Cassian's breath caught for a second before he too sighed a greeting.

"I was thinking," Nesta began, running her eyes over the titles in front of them, "that you could recommend something about..." she wiggled her fingers as much as she could, trying to point to the shelf, and Cassian leaned forward, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Here," he removed the first stack of books from her arms and she sagged a little, giving him a thankful look. "I can go get a bag so you can put them all in there and you don't have to carry them like this," he said taking all the books and having her help him arrange them so they wouldn't fall out.

He smiled at her over all the books, looking down at her and she smiled back just as happily.

Hell, if she looked at him like that every time he took her to a bookstore he should do it more often.

He had just turned to go towards the entrance, where he had seen special bags for carrying books, but Nesta stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

"Wait!" she exclaimed almost impishly.

Cassian turned his head, genuinely worried that something had happened to her in the mere seconds he had been shot. He must have moved too fast, because one of the smaller classics flew off the top of the stack and landed right in her face.

Nesta groaned at the impact and brought her hands to her face, rubbing her forehead where it hurt.

"Oh my God, are you okay?!" he asked with wide eyes. And then Nesta laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she stared at him and he visibly relaxed. "Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw a book at you."

She waved a hand in mid-air, to let him know it was nothing, and bent down to pick up what he realised was A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. Of course Nesta was reading feminist classics.

She turned back to the books as if nothing had happened and Cassian had the urge to look for a list of all the bookstores in the world to take her to if it meant having her in such a good mood by his side, it didn't matter if she would never agree to go on a real date with him, he realised. As long as he could see her smile like that, he didn't need anything else.

"So, I was saying, before you battered me with a book-" she cast an amused glance over one shoulder at him.

He frowned, muttering, "I said sorry."

Nesta ignored him, "What do you recommend?"

Cassian blinked.

"You said you read historical novels right?" she asked, looking for confirmation, "You could recommend your favourites. But not the English or Russian classics. Or French ones. Chances are I've already read those."

Cassian was stunned. Nesta wanted advice on books. From him.

They were silent for too long as she turned around impatiently, "You lied?"

He looked surprised, "When?"

"When you said you were reading. Were you just doing it to impress me or were you serious?" she asked and maybe Cassian imagined it, but she looked disappointed.

He was quick to reply, "The Black Coat, by Neamat Imam. It's pretty recent, but set in the 1970s in Bangladesh. It's about a man who needs help and seeks it from a journalist he asks for work and one of the main themes is the famine that hit the country after it became independent. It's not my absolute favourite, but it certainly gives you something to think about."

Nesta nodded, searching through the titles and finding it almost immediately, "Anything else?"

Cassian felt his neck heat up and coughed a little before resuming speaking. "The Long Ships by Frans G. Bengtsson. Set in the tenth century, it's about a Viking who is called Red because of his hair and focuses on the European political outlook in the late Viking Age. Again, it's not as good as the historical classics, but it's nice and shows a way of life that we're definitely not used to. It's different."

After looking for a few minutes, Nesta gave up reading and turned to him, crossing her arms. She tilted her head to the side, watching him closely, "What's your favourite book?"

Cassian shrugged, settling the books against his chest, "I think at the moment it's The King Must Die by Mary Renault. But I change my mind every month when I find something more interesting or captivating."

She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll take that one then."

And Cassian wished he could change the title immediately because... what if she didn't like it? Or if she thought it was a stupid book? What would she think of him then?

But Nesta had already found a copy a few shelves down and there was no turning back.

He could counterattack, though, "What about yours? You're not going to give me any advice on feminist classics or blatantly trashy romance novels?"

Nesta opened her mouth wide, looking outraged as she placed the latest addition on the pile, settling the book under her chin, "How can you say they're trashy if you don't even know what they're about?"

Cassian chuckled, "On the cover of You Came," he said as he gave her a sly look, "there's something called a 'spicymeter'. How am I supposed to take you seriously?"

Nesta blushed, "I read erotic novels, so what? I have to keep myself busy in my spare time somehow."

And then he challenged her, "Get me the hottest book you've ever read," he said in a joking tone, "I'll go get the bag in the meantime."

She had already left for the section when he had an idea that would surely doom him depending on how Nesta would react.

He walked up to the cashier's desk, making sure she didn't notice, and begging the clerk behind the counter to be quick, paid for all her books, gently placing them back in the bags.

When he reached her again, she seemed not to have noticed anything.

"'So, what did you get me? Ride Me? Fucked You Good? Last Night I Gave You A Thousand Orgasms?" he teased her with an annoyed grin on his lips.

Nesta gave him a fiery glance before noticing the bags, quite different from those you put the things you wanna buy in, and closed her mouth tightly. She frowned and looked at them for so long before speaking that Cassian began to feel self-conscious.

"You paid for my books?" she whispered, looking at him.

He nodded.

"It's not a date, Cassian," she reminded him for the umpteenth time.

"I know, but-"

"So why would you pay for things that are mine?"

He couldn't read her. She wasn't hinting at anything.

She didn't look angry but she didn't look impressed or grateful either.

Cassian placed the bags on the ground between them and Nesta followed his every movement with her eyes.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing, "My adoptive family is filthy rich. I have a trust fund that I never get to spend on things I really want to do, the only way I get to use it is by giving gifts to my friends, so just accept these as my first gift - friend to friend - and call it a day."

Nesta continued to be impassive as she kept her eyes fixed on the books.

Perhaps he had gone too far. After all, she had taken more than a hundred and fifty euros worth of stuff, but he really didn't mind.

He was about to apologise, tell her she could give the money back if it made her feel better. Cassian would find a way to spend it back on her at other times anyway.

Then she raised her head, handing him two books with hilarious covers to say the least, "These two have storylines full of plot twists. You won't be able to put them down, but don't expect big epic battles or Viking warriors. It's just two college kids trying to survive in the modern world while finding solace in each other."

He didn't even have time to thank her that she was already across the room and waiting in line so she could pay them.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"I guess you'll be paying for these two," he said as he caught up with her.

Nesta didn't even look at him, pulling out her wallet, "A gift from a friend to a friend."

As they walked back to the car, Cassian offered to carry the bags, but she didn't want to hear one more word so they had managed to compromise and had split the load equally.

They'd been on the road for about thirty minutes now and Nesta had gone through every book he'd bought her, talking about all the previous works by the authors she was holding in her hand at the moment.

Cassian could have died like that. Happy, relaxed, listening to the plots of those dirty books with no moral lessons to teach the reader, just pure entertainment.

He wondered at that moment if he would make it through the first few chapters of the books she had offered him and let out a heavy breath through his nose as he turned right towards the coast.

Nesta looked at him wide-eyed, stopping her rant about the headmaster's son getting the occasional model student to fall in love with him. She brought a hand to her mouth, "Oh dear, sorry, I'm boring you. I'm sorry."

He gave her a confused look ready to tell her she didn't have to apologise, but she continued.

"Sometimes I do and I don't even realize it. And I realize they're not challenging plots where you have to apply some hidden lobe of the brain to understand them, but they distract me from everyday problems, you know? It's fun to be able to unplug a few hours after I get home from work and-"

"Jesus, Nesta, stop!" he laughed, placing a hand on her thigh. She sighed. "You don't have to apologise. Not when you're so excited about something." he looked at her slyly, offering her a reassuring smile, "In fact, I'm glad you're talking so much today. Normally I have to pull the words out of your mouth."

She blushed slightly and then grew sullen soon after, sitting up straighter, "This isn't the way to Velaris, where are we going?"

Cassian didn't answer.

"You're taking me into the woods aren't you?"

"We literally just came out of a forest."

She ignored him.

"I knew it. You're a serial killer."

"Nes-"

"You're a little dense though. Why would you spend so much on someone if you're going to murder them?"

He decided to ignore her, chuckling, "I'm taking you to the beach."

"Why?" she asked, somewhat unconvinced.

Cassian shrugged, "I wanted to see the sunset."

"You didn't ask."

He sighed, gripping the steering wheel, "Okay," he whispered, then louder, "You want to go to the beach and watch the sunset?"

She nodded in assent and then continued to read the plots aloud.

And Cassian could have sworn he was in heaven.

***

Nesta gathered more sand, making a small ball out of it and placing it on the top of one of the towers she had made so far.

"Where did you learn to make such good sandcastles?" asked Cassian suddenly from behind her, startling her.

She jumped in the air, turning to face him and noticing the satisfied smile on his face for having taken her by surprise.

Nesta didn't answer him immediately, but allowed herself to admire him a bit.

Since they had arrived at the beach, they had taken off their shoes and were now both barefoot and then Cassian had bent down and started to roll his trousers around his ankles, offering to do it to her jeans as well, but Nesta had refused. She had sat down, looking at the sea for a while, while he walked along the shore and collected stones and shells.

When he had come back to her and shown them to her, asking her to make a sandcastle, she had laughed at first, but faced with his serious expression, she had been unable to do anything but get up and roll up her sleeves, moving to where the sand was a little more workable.

She looked away from that heavenly vision and made another ball, placing it next to the one she had just made. "When I was little my mum never let me do these, she said I'd get too much sun and forced me and Elain to stay under the umbrella all day," she replied truthfully, remembering the cruel bite of jealousy watching the children on the shore.

"And Feyre?"

Cassian had joined her, kneeling beside her and had begun to place the shells so that they served as windows to the towers.

Nesta sighed, "Feyre was still too little when Mini Me wanted to build sandcastles, but as soon as I became 'too old to play like a kid'," she gave him a knowing look, mimicking her mother's voice, "and Feyre started to figure out she was an actual being, Mama let her do whatever she wanted. Even stand in the sun for hours on end." she shrugged. "Whether it was out of indifference or love, I never understood."

Cassian had been silent the whole time and now he watched her, hands on his thighs as he waited for her to give him more. For her to tell him another little piece of her soul.

So she offered him a forced smile, "So to answer your question, it's all pent-up creativity."

"Well, you're very good at it," he granted her. "I can imagine what you could have done if your mother hadn't been so strict."

Well, yeah.

"What about you?" she asked him.

"What about me?"

"Did you go to the beach a lot?"

Cassian smiled weakly, getting up and heading towards the water to collect more shells. He nodded a couple of times and then said, "My mum and I loved coming to the beach and she loved making castles. And she always put so many 'windows' on the towers-"

Nesta turned to look at their work, realising how many shells he had placed on the piles of sand. She smiled softly, covering her eyes from the sun and watching him walk towards her.

"We always came when she was free from work."

A charged silence settled between them until Cassian chuckled, drawing her attention, "What?"

"You said this wasn't a date. And that we're just friends. Right?"

Shifting her gaze to him, she noticed how he kept his hands hidden behind his back and the mischievous glint in his eyes didn't reassure her at all. Slowly she stood up, nodding.

"So, I must treat you as I would treat my friends. Correct?"

"Cassian, I swear to god that-"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence that something wet and sticky landed in her face with a resounding splash, making her jump back.

She took a deep breath and immediately regretted it when a strong smell of stale water and seaweed flooded her nostrils.

When she opened her eyes again, wiping the seaweed from her face, Cassian was doubled over in laughter.

She didn't even give him time to get up when she started to run towards him - to do what, she had no idea - but he started to run away too and soon they were chasing each other all around the beach, not noticing the sweet looks they were getting from the people around them.

At that moment, Nesta was running so fast that she could feel the wind in her hair and the smell and sound of the sea, together with the laughter of the man who was chasing her, mixed with her own and the continuous tapping of her feet on the sand, made her feel alive.

She felt Cassian come closer every few metres until two strong arms wrapped around her waist and she was pulled up and spun around in the air.

A surprised yelp escaped her as Cassian laughed in her ear, "Gotcha!"

It wasn't until he stopped spinning with her in his arms that they realised the position they were in and immediately broke away, laughing embarrassed.

Nesta turned to face him, her face red from running and her breathing laboured. He was in no better condition. His hair was pointing in all directions and his sculpted chest was rising and falling with haste under the black fabric of his shirt.

He looked away first, scratching the back of his neck and fixing his eyes on the sunset, and offered her his arm as they returned to where they had left theirs things unattended.

Nesta shook her head, laughing one last time and started to run, " Last to reach the castle is stupid!"

Cassian burst out laughing, but he caught up to her in the blink of an eye and they both knew that she had doomed herself to lose. That's why, when he fell tripping over his feet, Nesta knew he had done it on purpose.

She helped him up and they sat back as in silence they watched the sun go down, disappearing past the horizon and the blending lights of the sky created a breathtaking spectacle.

Nesta couldn't have noticed, too busy admiring the clouds, but Cassian had been watching her the whole time, trying to understand how something as sombre and secretive as her could look so bright just by being.

The journey back was silent, but this time the silence was not awkward. They both welcomed it with open arms, a new awareness that there was no need for it to be filled with chatter and that gave Nesta the opportunity to close her eyes for a moment and doze off.

When the car stopped outside her flat, Nesta was surprised to find that she didn't want to get out.

She turned to Cassian after she had gathered her things and nodded, "I had fun today."

He gave her a genuine smile, looking surprised, "Me too."

And then she permanently shocked him, adding, "I'm not working on Saturday, we could do it again. Changing location."

He blinked once. Twice. Then he nodded, "Sure."

He didn't seem to want to say anything more, so Nesta waved goodbye to him and then got out, not waiting for an answer from him.

Cassian stood motionless in the car park of her flat for another half hour, trying to figure out what had just happened, and when the reality of things finally dawned on him, he smiled, "Fuck yeah."

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien-of-nargothrond @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @hellasblessed @nahthanks @archeron-queens-blog @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron @oop-theregoesgravity @firebirdofscythia @anne-reads @fantastypenguins @laylaameer01 @thalia-2-rose @darkshadowqueensrule @bookstantrash @lanyjoy-13 @the-regal-warrior @lordof-bloodshed @dealingdifferentdevils @swankii-art-teacher @rowaelinismyotp

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #nessian fic #nessian fluff #fluff

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visd3stele · 3 years

Text

Remus image - angst & fluff

*mostly angst with a tinsy bit of fluff

*forced marriage trope

summary: you're a Slytherin pure blood dating Remus Lupin, but your family has other plans

TW: none

A/N: any thoughts and opinions are welcomed. I'd love your reviews. Requests are open, too, if any of you are interested in that

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

You're staring at the high ceiling, wide awake and way past the middle of the night. In your hands, an envelope is twitching with every move of your fingers, twisting its corners anxiously. You received it at dinner that night, the letter from your family. And wisely waited until the privacy of your room to open it. Around you, pure bloods Slytherins were sound asleep. You made sure not to let any emotion show, on your face or voice. Something everyone in between the walls of the Slytherin residence could most likely do.

You read it once. Then again and again until each word, each letter carved its mark in your brain. Carefully, you folded it back, wrapping it in the thick layer of the envelope. Despite having stopped reading it, the news your family dropped on you kept on repeat in your mind. Over and over and over. Marriage. They found you a perfect, pure blood spouse to marry. No matter that you were still in school. And only sixteen. And already having a boyfriend.

But of course, that last part might be exactly why your blood supremacist family decided to take your love life in their hands at last. For you were dating Remus Lupin, head boy of Griffindor. Involuntarily your lips moved upward at the mere thought of him. The way his soft brown hair feels under your palms when he lays his head in your lap in the afternoon – that is when you convince him to take a break from learning for a change. Your smiled deepened. The way his scarred hands stroke your face right before he leans in to kiss you. You blushed in the dark. The way his eyes sparkle after one of the Marauders notorious pranks. The way he rolls his eyes and leave a snarky comments to any Slytherin who mock your relationship and how it only masks his own fears and self doubts.

Now you were crying. You'll have to break up with him. You'll have to break up with him without bringing the marriage up. You didn't want him to think back on what could have been years after. It's better if he thinks there is no chance anymore to be with you. And you had to do it quick. News spread in the pure blood community and risking lying about your parents intention only to fool yourself a bit longer with stolen happy times was as self destructive as it can get at this point.

You slipped your body on one side. And tossed. The envelope fell off your bed. You didn't bother to pick it up. But someone did. You felt it rather than hear it, someone picking it up and placing it on your nightstand.

" 'Morning," that sweet voice you loved so much whispered. And you snapped your head towards it in shock. Only to find a very uncomfortable Remus Lupin, switching from leg to leg, smiling awkwardly at you.

"It's five in the morning." He stated before you could find your words through the foggy veil of your thoughts. "And the sunrise is about to start..." Remus went on, looking anywhere but at you.

More tears sting your eyes, threatening to slide down your cheeks and getting completely out of your control. Here he was, your perfect boyfriend, sneaking in your bedroom to take you to see the sunrise. For you, this boy defined romance and no amount of scars, secret disappearances on the full moon and mysteries surrounding it could change that. You were more than willing to give him time, let him open up to you when he feels like it. After all, he has great friends to share secrets with and you wouldn't get in between them.

Biting your lips, you closed the distance and hugged him tight. After less than a second of hesitation, Remus put his hands around you as well. You needed it, the proximity, the safety, the warmth and love. When you were sure your voice won't break, you breathed a question to him. "And how are you planning to sneak me out?"

Remus saw right through your attempt. He pulled back a little, enough to brush his fingers over your swollen face. "Have you been crying?" Worry clouded those beautiful brown eyes. You shook your head, snatching yourself from him and desperately wiping your tears. You should do it now. Tell him it's over. Spare him – and yourself – for the pain and torture of stretching it longer. It was time to face it: your relationship was doomed from the start.

But you couldn't. Not yet. Just a little more time, you bargained with yourself. Just that sunrise together. One last date. You promised to no one. So you made yourself swallow and said instead "My family," dismissing any further remarks.

Remus pulled you back into his lean body, long arms the only thing holding you together. He needed no other explanation. Thanks to that friend of his, Sirius, Remus knew exactly what those two words meant coming from a pure blood kid. He pressed a kiss on top of your head, caressing your back in soothing large circles. Voice dipped with concern, he asked "Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you?"

"What about taking me to see that sunrise you mentioned and we'll figure it out from there?"

He nodded, led you to the now slightly opened window and motioned for his broom flying within reach.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The sun beamed from between rare clouds, spread amongst a royal blue sky. Orange light crowned the ascending golden disc, fading into a soft purple and light pink at its edges. The curtain of morning mist broke the rays in matt bliss, wrapping around your entangled figures.

A wet coldness flew on with the tentative mist, but Remus planned everything ahead, it seemed. He had a wool blanket at ready, different bits and pieces of clothing, threads and patches sewed together.

"Don't tell me you picked up knotting, Moony." You didn't know when it happened, but you had taken on calling him by the silly nickname his friends did.

"No. My mother made it, actually." The scar on his lip pulled up as he patted the spot next to him. He had laid a blanket on the freshly cut grass near the Black Lake and held his mother's gift in a silent invitation.

You snuggled in, circling his waist with your arms and nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck. "Y/n!" he exclaimed, a shiver running through him at the contact with your cold skin. You sent him a grin that had nothing to do with apologies and you both snickered before turning awe filled eyes to the sunrise.

Remus let his own head lean down on your own, brown hair slightly brushing your forehead. His hand found its way to yours and as your fingers laced together he rubbed his thumb on top of your palm.

Content silence settled in. Only birds dared sing a sharp note once in a while. Your boyfriend knew how to choose a date spot, you were more than happy to give him that. The marvelous sight the sky presented doubled in the lake's still waters. Calmness washed over you. Here and now, with Remus' hand in yours, your head resting on his shoulder, everything pieced into place.

You turned your face, meeting the warn off material of his shirt and placed a kiss there. Lifting your lips upward, you kissed his exposed neck as well. Then his cheek, lingering close to his lips before stopping to murmur "I love you, Remus Lupin! So, so much."

He met your lips with his own and you were thankful he said nothing about the pang in your voice. "And I you, my darling." His glittering eyes, filled with adoration and care, were too much for your heart to bear. It was all you could do to close your eyelids tight and press into his side even more.

"Is something wrong, y/n?" Remus asked, shifting his arm to welcome your new position.

"No. Nothing. Just overwhelmed by everything I feel for you." And in a way, it was true. Not the whole truth, but as you couldn't give him that...

An unsure smiled played on your lips. He brought your face to his again, laying a kiss on your nose. You scrunch it up and made a face at him. He tried to bit back his laugh, but failed as a bundle of it escaped in a soft breath, tingling your flushed cheeks.

Remus kissed you again, this time on the bridge of your nose. Which earned him a giggle and a wide smile. Bringing your hands to his face, you cupped his cheeks and touched your noses together.

"We're missing the sunrise. And you put so much effort in this."

"Hmmm," he mused, leaning in your touch. "The sun does much of the work, to be fair." You burst in laughing at that, shaking your forehead against his.

You two traded more kisses – and then some more, bathed in the dawn light of a new day.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"Where have you been?" You heard James Potter asked your boyfriend when you bumped in him and the rest of the Marauders in the hall.

Peter waved at you, while Sirius gave you a knowing smirk at which you rolled your eyes. Truth be told, their demand wasn't misplaced. You and Remus didn't show up at breakfast, and run late for the first class.

"Down at the lake, Prongs. I should know better than to ask for notes, right?"

"Not to worry, Moony, you didn't miss much."

You left Remus to his friends, brushing your lips to his as a form of good-bye. You headed to your room. Thoughts swirled in your mind, flying by so fast you barely registered them. You passed Narcissa and Lucius on your way. They have been married since year four, something you found very unsettling. At that time, you belittled Narcissa for not fighting off her families wishes, like her sister and cousin. But now, that you found yourself in her place? You started to understand. To understand that courage is not so easy to haul up from whatever pit it lays dormant in one's being.

So lost in thoughts, you haven't noticed the guy sitting on your bed until he spoke, voice laced with disgust. "You better kick that sorry excuse of a wizard away before we make our engagement public, honey."

You startled. "Who...?"

"Why, your new husband, of course."

"Future husband. And Remus is a fine wizard, greater than you could ever hope to be."

The stranger only rolled his eyes and huffed. "Whatever you say, honey. Just make him gone by noon. I have plans for us before the ceremony."

A ceremony that would take place in a few months, once summer blooms, you realized, dread chilling your blood in your veins. The tight line of your lips followed your betrothed until he left and swiped the door close.

Noon. Break up with Remus by noon. Make it look like it's over because there is no love anymore. Let him think you choose this smug, full of himself, brainless, boorish brute over him. It's the right course of action. So you told yourself. And so you did. Any hope for standing up against your family gone.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Wind howling outside, rain pouring, you thought the weather mocked you. It just happened to turn gloomy and morbid all of a sudden, when you were about to break the heart of the most precious boy in the whole school. And yours too in the progress.

"Remus, can we talk for a second?"

"Sure, what is it?" He turned his whole focus on you, dropping mid conversation with his mates about whatever prank they were up to next.

"Moony!" three offended sighs followed you as you dragged Remus to a more private spot. The way he no more than waved at his friends, giving all up for you, knowing you had a bad day, strung a painful chord in your soul. You did not deserve this boy. Maybe the wedding was a good thing after all.

"Hey, y/n, talk to me," Remus whispered when you came to a halt. His fingers searched for yours, trying to turn you around to face him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you. We'll fix it."

"No." You said, and cursed your weak voice. You still didn't face him. "No we won't fix this." You spoke again, this time with more surety, allowing a sharp edge to it.

Bless his too kind soul, he didn't balk away. Instead, he took one stop forward, resting his head on your spine and bringing his long arms around you. "Everything's gonna be fine, y/n. I promise."

It took a superhuman effort to break free of his embrace. And you finally swirled to meet his soft brown eyes. Tears rolled down, dripping from your chin, but you didn't let him comfort you. Shacking your head, you took another step back, building distance between you, as if the following words would hurt less that way.

"Everything's not gonna be fine, Remus. Not with us. Not anymore."

For a couple seconds, he stared at you, confusion painting his beautiful features. Then, realization sunk in. And in that moment, you were sure nothing could ever hurt you as badly as his pain struck expression. His parted lips, moving in vain to form words that doesn't exist. His frenzy eyes, looking all over yourself, searching for any sign of a cruel joke. For a trace that you weren't being serious. Eyes that begin to water when he found none.

But he refuse to let the tears flow. Remus led his stare to a dark, far away corner of the empty hall. Heat colored his face, a light shade of pink that not even the cool from the open window couldn't beat down. "So that's why you were distant this morning?" Your boyfriend asked, bitterly even as his voice was small, lost. "That's why you avoided me all day and didn't look me in the eye once, more than a passing moment?"

You knew better than answer. You had nothing to say anyway. "I'm sorry, Remus. I've been meaning to tell you earlier..."

A razor sharp laugh bit your words off. "But you took pity on the poor half-blood."

No, no it wasn't like that, you wanted to say. Those remained only thoughts as you wiped your face and crossed your arms to keep them from reaching out. Reaching out to him, reassure him, hug him. Whatever he believed, you'd roll with it. If he thought you an evil pure blood, then fine! You'll be that.

An image of your mother's face, lips curled in disgust at the last Quidditch match when Slytherin lost again in favor of Gryffindor, served as model for the expression you forced your own face into.

"I didn't want it to be like this. Goodbye, Remus Lupin."

You turned. And left. Just left. You kept your back straight as you walked away from the boy who tickled your heart. Who placed feather light kissed on your cheeks, and nose and forehead for days into your relationship, too shy to initiate something more without your worded agreement. The wizard who helped you with assignments, not thinking anything less of you when you weren't perfect. Who let you fall asleep in his lap at Hogwarts' few parties that you couldn't stand due to your family. This guy who gave you everything you were too afraid to dream of. And you just walked away, as if couldn't be bothered to care.

His fist thrumming once on the hallway's wall filled your ears, a sound forever carved in your brain. The thud that followed, of him sliding down on the floor you guessed, printed an image in your mind you'll pray to forget. Remus' silent sobs, though, almost made you turn around and run towards him.

You didn't so much as cast a glance back, knowing what you'll see and too much of a coward to bear it. His body shaking with crying, knees cradled to up to his chest where his chin digged in, covered by lean arms with palms crossed over his head.

His friends would find him. They'd help him. Remus will move over and forget you. Each sentence was another step. Each step, another crack in your heart. By the time you reached your room, collapsed in your bed and twisted in a similar position to your boyfriend's – ex boyfriend. It made you understand, showed you far too clearly why he'd sit like that. The pure devastation and despair, the attempt to contain a hollowness within, to replace a part where a whole, happy heart used to beat.

You broke Remus Lupin's heart. And yours was just as shattered. And there was no going back from it now.

PART 2

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bimbo-jk · 3 years

Text

bleed you dry (m)

pairing: vamp!jeongguk x fem!reader

genre: smut , drabble

rating: 18+

warnings: biting, blood drinking, rough but sensual sex, cockwarmin’!!! , jk kinda has a nonverbal worship kink lol, hand holding, kissing, some dirty talk but not much, creampie, overstimulation (f), reader is jk’s sensitive liddol baby, reader is woozy but this is 100% consensual (so kinda cnc?) , cum play, jk loves reader :( she’s his dumb lil baby, jk and his love for petnames, he jus wants to pamper the reader :(, okay jk’s a lil mean but!!!!!

synopsis: your boyfriend of two years came over for halloween, simply supposing to watch movies and hangout. but halfway through the second movie, he’s feeling lightheaded from lack of eating and you feed him the best way you know how; straight from the vein.

Clearing your throat, you try to shift your boyfriend’s attention from rubbing his thumbs into your hip bones, his lips pressed behind your ear as he kisses over your skin. “Babe, the movie”, you murmur quietly, and you know he heard you; he just chooses to ignore it.

“Jeon”, you huff out once his nails scrape over your tummy lightly. He chuckles through his nose, kissing your shoulder before pulling away, “Fine, but you smell good”, he hums and you roll your eyes, “You say that all day, every day”.

Shrugging his shoulders, he stands as the first movie ends, heading off to the bathroom. You pick up the fallen popcorn kernels and toss them back into the bowl before heading to kitchen to trash it, popping another bag for the second movie scheduled to start in a few minutes.

You hear the flush of the toilet over the popping in the microwave and then seconds later, your boyfriend’s hands are wrapped around your waist as he presses his lips into your shoulder blade, his tongue peeking out of his lips to drag across your warm, honey skin.

“Kook”, you sigh out, digging your fingers into the counter when his hips press yours forward into the counter. His cock is semi-hard, digging into your lower back through his grey sweats. “Hungry”, he snarls out, his teeth prodding against your collarbone and it sends a tingle down your spine, mouth dropping open to form an “o” shape.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten”, you manage to mutter out, hands cupping his that hold your waist. “Too long”, he huffs, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling harshly through his nose, moaning directly into your ear.

You always smelled so fucking good.

“Eat”, you hum the simple word, knowing you didn’t need to say much more to him. His hands tighten their grip on your hips as his teeth sink into your neck, your gasp blessing his ears beautifully.

Jeongguk drinks until his belly is full, until his cock is throbbing with the newfound blood rush. He keeps an ear on your heartbeat, listening to any irregular beat. But he finds he does truly get carried away even sometimes.

“Koo...”, your voice is so small he could barely hear it. Your knees weaken until the only thing holding you up is his grip, the beeping of the microwave distant to your ears. Your eyes flutter and you let out a breathy whine.

That’s when he snaps back, retracting his fangs and licking over the wound to close it before pressing a kiss to the red stained area. “Pretty girl”, he coos into your ear, picking you up and sitting you on the counter to face him, and his cock twitches at the sight.

Your face is flushed, eyes glazed over and lidded... is that a bit of drool on your lips?

Jeongguk swore his cock couldn’t be harder. Well, maybe, with the way you gasp out his name so prettily while he shoves your thighs apart to step between them.

“Wanna hurt you, pretty girl. Wanna see you cry”, he mutters, stroking the skin on your inner thighs while he gazes at you like you’re the most perfect girl on the planet. And to him, you are.

You’re in deep submissive space, he can tell. He knows your body better than do. Knows what to say to soak that slutty little cunt. Knows how to touch and where to press to make you scream. You want nothing more than to be used right now, and he’s more than willing to utilize.

Within the blink of an eye, you’re bent over the couch, ass perched high in the air while the rest of your torso is bent forward, head resting on a pillow.

“Can smell this creamy little cunt through your panties, baby”, he chuckles meanly. “You’re such a fucking slut when I’m bleeding you dry. You like that? That gets your cunt soakin’ baby?”, his mouth is right next to your ear.

“Love it”, you slur out back, brain muddled with the way he’s growling in your ear and kneading your fat ass cheeks between his hands. So much of the soft flesh that it spills through his fingers due to the grip.

Jeongguk was an ass man for sure.

“Of course you do. You’re my good little bitch, aren’t you?”, and when you don’t answer, he smacks the side of your thigh meanly, “Aren’t you”, he growls out.

“Ah! Y-yeah, Koo! Your good bitch, ‘m all yours!”, and he chuckles, not a bit of humor behind it.

He’s feeling mean.

Instead of torturing you some more, Jeongguk takes pity on you, the pathetic fat tears rolling down your cheeks a clear sign of how needy you are. He fucking loves you, but he loves seeing you cry for his cock even more. Sometimes.

Pulling down the pathetic excuse for panties that covers your shining cunt, he sighs when your arousal floods the room, his eyes rolling back at how heavy a impact it had on his senses.

His fingers graze over your cunt, dipping between your folds before spreading your lips. He spits obscenely, making a mess of your nether region.

“Gonna let me fuck this cunt, baby? Look at you”, he tuts, rubbing his thumb on your clit, “Bet I don’t even needa stretch you, you’re so fuckin’ wet”, he snarls, thumbing the button of his jeans open and pulling down his zipper.

Jeongguk’s cock bounces out, leaking precum as he thumbs his head, moaning out lowly. You wiggle your hips back, trying to entice him into fucking you open. You don’t care, don’t wanna be prepped. You want to feel that burn.

You succeed, Jeongguk’s restraint snapping as he slides home, a gasp falling from your lips and a delicious snarl coming from his chest.

“F-Fuck, Baby”, he moans into your ear, his upper body bent over yours. His hips grind into your ass before pausing, Jeongguk’s mouth littering your neck in hickies.

“Lemme taste, baby”, he whispers, nibbling your ear lobe before licking a fat stripe up your jugular. It all hits so differently with the way his cock is buried snugly into your soaking cunt, “Lemme taste you while my cock splits your dumb slutty cunt open”.

You simply nod, unable to get a word out before Jeongguk’s teeth are buried into your shoulder, his hips giving limp seeking thrusts as he drains you a bit more.

Your pussy only gets wetter around his cock, clenching and fluttering cutely while he drinks. Once he’s deemed himself finished, he retracts his teeth and soothes the wound once again, closing it and kissing your shoulder.

Before your fuzzy dumb brain can acknowledge him further, Jeongguk is standing straight, his nails sinking deep into the soft pillowy flesh of your ass, the fat globes being spread apart as he begins to rut his hips into you.

It’s messy and loud, your cunt making lewd wet noises, squelching being heard even through your hazy thoughts. Or lack there of.

Wetness drips onto the floor boards as Jeongguk tosses his head back, all of his nerves on fire from the sugary substance that’s stained his teeth red. His balls clench when you whimper, limply fucking your self back onto him.

But your movements are irregular, you’re exhausted. He takes pity and instead of going for slow and long, he goes hard and deep, fucking his head into your cervix and g-spot all the while toying with your clit.

You’re so, so very close, the last push you need right on the tip of your tongue. And he gives it to you.

Jeongguk lifts your hips off the couch until your feet are dangling off the floor and your face is smushed into the cushions. He fucks you like that, suspended partially in the air and unable to run from his cock.

He breaks a sweat, bottom lip tugged between his teeth and hair sticking to his forehead.

Your back arches violently, a loud drawn out moan being torn from your pretty throat until Jeongguk wraps his large hand around the back of your neck, yanking your torso up until he’s carrying your body, the only thing keeping your feet from touching the floor is his cock stuffed in your cunt.

Cum quite literally spurts out of you, creamy white droplets splattering the floor and his thighs and that’s what sets him off, his balls draining themselves into your cunt until you’re quite literally bloated over, the cum spilling out of you.*

Sliding out of you and laying your limp body back across the couch, Jeongguk stuffs his cum back into your cunt, rubbing and playing with your clit until you’re lazily whining, eyelids too heavy to open and mouth to dry to tell him to stop. You’re sensitive, pretty sure you’re broken.

But he shows no sympathy, continues fucking you with his fingers until you have another orgasm, less messy but so strong that your vision and hearing goes blank, your toes and fingertips feeling like electricity is shocking through your bones.

“Koo”, you whine, voice hoarse and tired.

He relents, mumbling a sheepish and quiet apology before beginning to clean you up, “Just like how messy this little cunt gets. So sensitive”, he mutters almost to himself as he wipes your thighs and folds gently with a warm towel.

“Well next time, control yourself. We didn’t even start the second movie”, you pout. He smiles.

“There’s no way I just fucked you stupid and you’re worried about ‘Blades of Glory’”

“Shut up!”

—

* Guys I wanted to write the reader being stuffed so full that it spilled out her mouth but then I realized that’s not actually possible so maybe I’ll write something with shit that’s literally not realistic and ruin everyone with that there. Ok bye enjoy lol.

#jungkook #bts #gukpds #jungkook smut #smut #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bleed you dry

846 notes · View notes

mellowswriting · 3 years

Note

2, 3, & 48 with the least expected choice: JAVI BB! 😭 Please I just starve for domestic!Javi a lot

Second Chance

pairing || Javier Peña x F!Reader

summary || Javier comes back to the U.S after taking down Escobar to find you - and what he finds changes his life forever.

word count || 4,824

warnings || angst with a happy ending, soft dad Javi, allusions to sex

a/n || This was so interesting to write, because Javier as a dad??? Yes please! Also because I’m so used to writing mainly fluff that angst can get a little tricky for me. Thank you for this little writing challenge, anon!

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist!

Two years. It had been nearly two years since Javier had seen you - correction, since he had watched you walk out with tears in your eyes and did nothing to stop you like a fool. It was one of his biggest regrets, and that was saying something coming from a man whose job required him to make hard and fast decisions that often left people dead. All he could do was hope and fucking pray that you wouldn’t slam the door in his face.

Even if he did deserve it.

A drive that typically would’ve taken only an hour from the airport took nearly double that, Javier’s hands shaking and stomach turning the entire time. He should’ve done this sooner, should’ve followed you out that door or hopped onto a plane and met you back in the States. Nothing felt right without you, the world around him slightly distorted by your absence. An absence that was entirely his fault.

He shouldn’t have snapped at you. All you had wanted from him was the promise that he would try to play it safer. It was a simple reassurance that he could have given you if he hadn’t been such a moron and snapped at you that if you couldn’t handle the realities of his job, you had no business sticking around. You were scared, worried for him after one of his harebrained plans nearly got his head blown off.

And all Javier had done was make you feel stupid for caring about him. It didn’t help that he did nothing to try to fix it the next day; he was embarrassed, ashamed of his immaturity. And you left because of it. He hated himself for it. He would only hate himself more if he didn’t go to you now that he had taken down Escobar. Better late than never, right? He was back in the states and could’ve gone anywhere, done anything, especially now that he was so well known for his hard work in Colombia. Instead, he used that new status to find out where you ended up and scribbled your address onto a crumpled piece of paper.

It was a nice house. The kind he always hoped you would get, picturesque with the neatly trimmed front yard and picket fence. The sun had just risen enough to tint the sky by the time he pulled up and killed the engine, his millionth cigarette of the day perched between his fingers. You were home. Tiny movements that he could see from the windows and the car parked in your driveway told him that much.

The love of his life was right there. Less than twenty yards away, practically nothing separating the two of you after so long. That realization had Javier finally shoving the car door open and stepping out - and damn near getting himself run over in the process. In his haste, his excitement, he didn’t even glance around himself enough to see the car approaching and… pulling into your driveway?

A spike of fear shot through him. Please, fuck, don’t let that be a man. Don’t let that be some man who is going to walk through the door and kiss your cheek as you welcome him home from work and…

No. A woman, brunette. Launching herself out of the car and practically skipping up to the door. She didn’t bother knocking, just walked right in and closed the door behind her. Something familiar about her tickled the back of Javier’s brain, the hazy memory of a polaroid of her next to you wearing matching goofy grins. Ah, your sister. Amelia, if he remembered correctly.

Javier hesitated at her appearance. He didn’t want to interrupt something. God knows you were already going to be pissed enough at him. So he leaned against his door and puffed on that cigarette like it was his only lifeline, ready to wait for however long it took.

Just his luck that he wouldn’t have to wait long. The door reopened not fifteen minutes later and the two of you both appeared on the porch and holy fuck, Javier’s heart was ready to fly out of his chest just at the sight of your smile as you chatted with your sister. He watched, enraptured, that damn cigarette damn near falling from his lips, his heart leaping at the way your head tilted back with a big laugh. God, he missed that sound.

You turned and poked your head back into the doorway and called something that he couldn’t hear, pausing before rolling your eyes and walking back inside. You appeared again a second later with -

A kid? Propped on your hip with your arm propped under them with ease.

Javier’s heart dropped. Of course. He should’ve known that someone would have scooped you up the second you returned home. If he hadn’t have been such a fucking idiot, that could have been him building a home with you and fuck, he had to leave. He needed to get in his car and fucking go before you -

“Javier?”

It had been so long since he heard you say his name. Even when it was layered with surprise, his name never sounded better than when it was falling from your lips. Javier froze with his hand on the handle. He could hear your sister’s ill attempt at whispering, the harshness of “Wait, the Javier? The one that -” that you cut off before she could finish.

Javier turned, his heart flying in his chest, and started walking up to the gate. The shake in his hands was undeniable when he lifted the latch. Your mouth hung open, chest rising and falling rapidly with your almost frantic breathing, the little girl perched on your hip seeming confused. She was yours, that much was obvious. Her nose, her lips - that little girl was your daughter.

Something in you snapped back into place, your mouth closed and a fake smile quickly replaced it as you turned your softening gaze to your little girl. “Okay, you have fun with Aunt Amelia, okay? Mommy loves you.”

Javier watched the exchange with a heavy heart, watched as your daughter gave you the tiniest kiss on your cheek with a small ‘pop’ of her lips, watched as your sister took her and gave him a wide berth as she went to strap her into the carseat in her car. The moment she was out of your sight, the warmth from your eyes fell away and regarded him with something colder, something angry and sad.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked.

“It’s done.” He mumbled, his fists clenching at his sides. “All of the bullshit with Escobar, it’s over.”

“Yeah, I know.” You scoffed at the surprised look he gave you. “What, you think I didn’t keep track of you after I left? Just because I wasn’t around doesn’t mean I stopped caring about whether you lived or died. That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I never should have let you leave. I… I shouldn’t have driven you away to begin with.” Shame flooded him for the millionth time at the flash of hurt in your eyes before you looked away from him, your eyes falling to the ground. “The kid… uh, congratulations I mean. I didn’t know you started a family, I never would’ve shown up like this. I’m not a homewrecker.”

“The kid?” You repeated, your voice incredulous, and Javier cringed. Yeah, not the most eloquent way to put it, but he was never good with words.

“Yeah, uh, she’s a cute kid. You and your… husband or whatever, you got lucky.” Every word that fell from his lips, he regretted. They were true, sure, but holy hell did it sound so awkward coming from him.

“The kid.” You scoffed again, a sound he hadn’t realized he missed so much. You finally locked eyes with him, somehow even more guarded than before. “She’s yours.”

Javier blinked. The words didn’t compute, his brain falling blank at the very thought that he… no, no fucking way. He took a half step back, his mouth falling open. He watched you watch him, watched the way your eyes studied his every movement. Air rushed in and out of his chest rapidly, black spots blinked at the edges of his vision, and suddenly his ass was hitting the hard stone of your porch.

He barely heard the rough, concerned way you said “Shit, Javi!”, barely noticed you disappear from his side. No, he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t accept that. There was no way in hell that his stupid fucking mistake deprived him of this, of his family. Of watching you bring his child into the world and watching her grow, teaching her how to walk on unsteady feet and picking her up when she cried. Of you teaching him how to gently pull her pretty brown hair into the little sprigs of pigtails, just like she wore when he caught a glance of her before she was whisked away.

The cold, wet feeling of a cloth dragging across his forehead made his eyes refocus and there you were. Your eyes, once cold and hesitant now tinged with concern as you gently drug a washcloth down each of his cheeks, trying to pull him out of his panicked state. You were murmuring something to him, something he couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his ears. Javier’s hand grasped at yours, pressing it against his cheek tightly.

“Name.” He rasped. “What’s her name?”

You paused, a small smile perking up the corners of your lips. “Elianna. We call her Ellie.”

Ellie.

Javier had a daughter.

“I have a daughter?” Javier needed to hear you say it again.

“You have a daughter.” You nodded and pulled your hand away from his cheek, much to Javier’s disappointment. He missed your touch. You patted him hard on the shoulder before hauling him up. “Come on, we have a lot to talk about. Might as well do it on the couch where it’s comfortable.”

The inside of your home was just as picturesque as the outside, but in a completely different way. Colorful toys were strewn about the living room, a few soft baby blankets crumpled on the couch. It was comfortable, lived-in. Happy. Javier sat heavily on the couch, mind almost on autopilot as he gently touched the blanket next to him, his fingers barely grazing the fabric like he was worried his touch would somehow taint it.

You handed him a cold bottle of water that he accepted graciously and sipped as you sat next to him, a foot-wide war zone of space between you that felt like a stab to his heart. If only he hadn’t fucked everything up. You would be curled up right against him, your head on his chest as the two of you watched the little girl you created together babble over her toys.

“Tell me about her?” Javier asked tentatively, his voice uncharacteristically small.

“What do you want to know?” The hesitance in your voice made him feel even worse.

“Anything. Everything.”

And you did. Javier watched and listened, enraptured as you gushed about little Ellie. At nearly fifteen months old, she was damn near running and constantly getting into everything. She was curious and bright and laughed like she couldn’t breathe when you would roll around on the floor and play with her. Just the sight of the happiness and light in your eyes when you retold the first time you heard her say ‘mama’ made pride swell in his chest.

The intense urge to have her here with him pulled at him, but he knew better than to ask. You were already indulging him by bringing him into your home and answering his questions. Hell, he was lucky you told him to begin with. He could feel the intensity of your gaze on his face as he tried to absorb all of the information that was dumped on him. Silence filled the living room when you trailed off, a few heavy moments where he didn’t know what to say.

“I know you have questions, Javier.” You said, your words slow and deliberate. Clipped, like you were terrified he was going to disappear once again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Javier whispered.

“Well, I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left.” You began with a sigh. “I thought that the nausea and the missed period were from stress, because god knows I was wrecked. I found out a few weeks after I got back to the U.S and… I just didn’t see the point to tell you.”

“Didn’t see the point? Of telling me you were having my child?” His voice rose with his anger, his frustration and he watched as those walls slammed down, your vulnerability hardening in less than a second. He took a deep breath before continuing, trying his damnedest to soften his voice. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“Are you kidding me, Javier? You had just told me to leave. Was I supposed to think it would change anything?” You deflated into the cushions slightly and the sight of the exhaustion and pain in your eyes made some of his anger fall away. You rubbed a hand down your face. “Was I supposed to hop back on a plane back to Colombia? Put myself and my baby in danger? Or maybe I should have just called you. ‘Hey, Javier, I know you just told me to get out of your life, but surprise! I’m carrying your child!’ How would that have gone over?”

“But after? How could you not…” Javier choked up, unable to finish his sentence. You were right, he knew that. But he was grieving the loss of everything he had missed out on. He couldn’t blame you, not really. It was an impossible situation.

“I wanted to. There were these moments that… it took everything in me not to call you and beg you to come to me like some pathetic little…” You trailed off with a shake of your head, your voice cracking. “But I couldn’t. The closer you got to catching Escobar, I just… I couldn’t pull you away from the fight when you were so close to winning. The past few weeks, though? God, I almost called you at least a dozen times. The second I heard about it, I wanted you here, but I was so… so scared, Javi.”

And there it was. Javier’s heart snapped in half. He broke your heart and you managed to still prioritize his career, his fight against Escobar, while you brought his child into the world and shouldered that responsibility on your own. He cleared his throat harshly and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold back those traitorous tears that threatened to fall.

“You don’t have to be scared. If you’ll have me, I swear to god, you will never do this alone again.” Javier whispered, his eyes still closed. Debilitating fear kept him from looking at you, afraid to see the rejection on your face. “I want to be here, I want this. I want my family.”

“Do you mean that?” Your voice trembled with disbelief.

“Of course I do, hermosa.” He insisted. “Please, give me the chance to show you.”

The small, relieved sigh that came from you made something tight ease in his chest and Javier hesitantly brought you into his arms. You relaxed into his side with your head propped on his shoulder, the both of you taking refuge in the familiarity of the touch that was missed for so long. He felt you look up at him and met your eyes, hoping you could see his sincerity. Words had a tendency to fail him but he still had his actions. He absentmindedly licked his lips before asking, “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled at him, a small smile that was still a bit sad, but a smile nonetheless, and nodded. “I've missed your kisses. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He confessed and finally kissed you. After two years, Javier felt the softness of your lips against his and finally felt like he was home.

----------

Javier’s knee bounced rapidly as he sat on your couch hours later, his nerves bounding untethered and desperate for any outlet. Just on the outside on the porch, you had stepped out to greet Amelia, who had brought Ellie home.

His daughter was on the other side of the door and he was about to meet her, for real this time. Excitement and fear warred with each other, neither able to win out over the other in their rising volume. Excitement at getting to hold her, maybe even make her smile. Fear over the possibility of hurting her or being too rough - he didn’t have much experience with babies, after all.

The door pushed open and he heard you call his name softly. “Can you grab these bags for me?”

He was on his feet in an instant, glad to be of help and already jumping at the chance to start proving himself to be a good father. A mess of brown curls poked out from the baby blanket you had draped over your chest where Ellie was apparently still fast asleep, distracting him slightly as he grabbed the bags from Amelia. She… did not look too happy to see him. The hardness in her glare told him something that didn’t need to be vocalized: if he hurt you or Elllie, his body would never be found.

Javier nodded slightly at her. He couldn’t blame your sister. If he were in her position, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be breaking noses. At your request, he set the bags on the kitchen table before walking back to you - and the sight of you swaying in the middle of the living room with Ellie knocked out against you, your cheek propped against the top of her head, took his breath away. The smile you gave him brought him closer, his hand settling on Ellie’s back softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Do you want to hold her?”

It took a moment of maneuvering, but the second you settled Ellie against him chest-to-chest, his entire world came into focus. Her cheek pressed against his chest just so, making her mouth form the tiniest little ‘o’ that he had ever seen. She was so calm, sleeping so deeply, and Javier couldn’t fucking believe his luck. How could he have had any part in creating something so perfect?

He had to sit down. He didn’t trust himself to hold her with unskilled hands while standing. She harrumphed slightly when he eased down onto the couch, but other than that, his little girl stayed off in her dreamworld, content and safe in her father’s arms for the first time.

“Just be careful not to touch the bottoms of her feet even a little bit, it wakes her up every time. She’s just like you with that.” You said, your voice lowered as you sat next to him much closer than before. He preened under the idea that any part of him was reflected in Ellie, even something so small and silly.

“She’s so warm. Is that normal?” Javi asked. He hoped she didn’t have a fever, he knew that a fever could really hurt a baby even with his limited knowledge. You reached out to gently feel her forehead and cheek, smiling after a moment.

“No, she's just a little furnace.” You settled against the back of the couch with a content smile. God, this just felt so right. Having you so close and smiling, having his daughter asleep and safe against him. He could feel the pieces snapping together, could feel himself becoming whole. “Yet another thing she has in common with you.”

“What else?” Javier whispered, desperate to hear everything.

“Hmm, let’s see. You have the same grumpy face.” You laugh when he glanced up at you, his eyebrows ticked together and lips pursed slightly. “Mhmm, that’s the one. Plus she hates carrots. Acts like I’ve personally offended her if I even offer them.”

“That’s because carrots are fucking disgusting.” Javi grumbles goodnaturedly as he gently rubs Ellie’s back. She’s so small, such a tiny, delicate little creature, and he can’t believe it. Any of it. You let him in after everything, took him in and introduced him to an entirely new world of possibility, one where if he was smart and did right by his two little ladies, he would get the life he always dreamed of.

Your fingers brushed an errant lock of hair from his face and Javi sighed, his eyes falling closed as he leaned into the soft touch that he missed so much. He hummed happily, practically purring like a pleased cat, when your fingers buried further in his hair and massaged over his scalp. Heaven. He was in heaven.

A gentle stirring against his chest made Javier glance down at Ellie and that first glimpse of her big brown eyes only confirmed what he already felt deep in his soul - this little girl was his everything. It was the most basic, simple thing he had ever felt, no question to be had about any of it.

Ellie wiggled against him, trying to get herself upright, and Javier immediately held her under her arms to sit her on his thigh. She looked inquisitively up at him from his lap, glancing over at you to confirm that you were nearby before staring at him as if he was the most interesting thing he has ever seen. Her little hand reached up to tug at his mustache, giving him a toothy grin at the way he laughed.

There were tears in his eyes and he couldn’t even deny them, couldn’t pretend they weren’t there. Javier could see them mirrored in your eyes as you watched Ellie stand in her father’s lap and try to balance herself with her hands on his shoulders.

You cleared your throat. “She’s about to start bouncing.”

“What? Whoa!” Javier exclaimed at the sudden feeling of what seemed like Ellie falling in his lap, his hands rushing for a firmer grip only for her to pop right back up and do it all over again. All three of you cracked up, your melodic laughter mixing with Ellie’s high giggling in the most beautiful way.

That night Javier got to cut up his daughter's food and help spoon bites into her mouth, sat at the table with Ellie and the love of his life, eating dinner like a family. He could picture this for the rest of his life. Eating breakfast and dinner together. Kissing the both of you goodbye in the morning and returning to his daughter running down the hall to wrap him in a hug. Chasing Ellie around a park and helping her down slides and pushing her on the swings.

This was his second chance, and he was going to do it right. God help him, he was not going to miss out on anything else. So when he saw the hesitance in your eyes that night after putting Ellie to bed, Javier settled himself on the couch with nothing but a gentle kiss to your forehead. There was no reason to push you. He wanted you to be comfortable, he owed you that much.

A week went by like that. Javier would rise in the morning to the sounds of you coming downstairs with Ellie on your hip and stretch, realigning his spine and pulling the tension from his sore back. He offered small pieces of affection and grinned every time they were accepted - a small peck on the lips here, his arm raised for you to curl closer on the couch there. Little Elianna was all too happy to join in on those little couch cuddle sessions, too, clambering into his lap or yours and snuggling close.

It seemed like the more Ellie warmed up to him, the more you did as well. Javi caught those small smiles when you watched him help ease his little girl to sleep for a nap. The more he proved himself to be a good father, the more comfortable you were letting him in, and it felt like progress. You laughed openly at his stupid jokes, reached out for him for affection of your own volition - kisses over coffee, holding hands as he pushed Ellie in the stroller - and it felt so good.

Javier fluffed up a pillow before tossing it against the arm of the couch, but before he could collapse his exhausted body into the cushions, he felt your hand curl around his bicep. The look in your eyes was almost afraid and worry clenched his stomach, but before he could spiral, you pulled him close and leaned up to kiss him.

A surprised sound hummed against your lips but Javi quickly regained himself to kiss you back. There was something softer about the way your lips pressed against his, something that had been absent from the quick, nearly chaste kisses you shared since he returned. This time you parted your lips and licked along the curve of his bottom lip, your hand coming up to press against his jaw and pull him even closer.

“You aren’t sleeping on that couch anymore.” You whispered against his lips.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Javi grumbled as he pressed even closer and kissed you again and again, slowly guiding you back to your bedroom.

He woke up the next morning with his bare chest against your back, his face buried in your hair, and he didn’t think life could get any better. His arms tightened around you as he gently rubbed up and down your side, the soft touch easing you out of sleep. The way you groaned made him smile; it was a sound he missed, even if it though was grumpy. You rolled over in his embrace and wrapped your arms around his neck to drag him over you, smiling sleepily at him before kissing him.

“My thighs are fucking aching, Javier.” You grumbled against him as you pressed a line of kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

He shivered at the feeling of your lips against his sensitive skin. “Mm, yeah, and you love it.”

You giggled in that way that made his stomach flip. “Fair enough.”

The door pushed open suddenly, almost hard enough to crack against the wall, and Ellie appeared on your side of the bed, her arms raised as she waited impatiently to be picked up. Javier happily pulled her up onto the bed. Scratch his earlier assumption - now his life couldn’t get any better. He watched Ellie jump and tumble around the sheets with happy squeals and that’s when he heard it. At first, he thought maybe he was hearing things until he saw the way your mouth fell open into a big grin, your eyes flitting back and forth between father and daughter.

“Papaaaa!” Ellie called out, her hands opening and closing rapidly, reaching for him from the other side of the bed. She kept saying it, repeating the two syllables over and over until it all bled into one long call for her dad.

Javier pulled her into his arms and squished her to his chest tightly, his eyes on you as his heart fluttered high in his chest. He couldn’t find the words, his voice choked out by his overwhelming love for the little family he had. He watched as you shuffled forward to kneel next to him and kiss the top of Ellie’s head, then his lips, pride shimmering in your eyes.

“Marry me.” Javier said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your jaw dropped. “Javi… you don’t have to do this. I - I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Are you kidding me? I want to grow old with you, have kids with you, even have a fucking white picket fence.” It was as if the faucet was turned on and there was no stopping the words he so desperately wanted to say. “None of this is out of obligation, hermosa. I want you to be my wife.”

“Yes.” There were tears in your eyes as you listened to the words you had longed to hear for far too long. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Javier surged forward and kissed you again, and in that bed with the precious little girl the two of you created together and the promise of being yours forever, he knew he was right where he belonged.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @viktorialukowski @cjbtw @agentshortstacc @a-skov @himbotroy

#javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

What are friends for?

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Request: Hi! I loved little lamb, you're such an amazing writer!!! Can I request a piece where reader and Billy are friends and for her birthday she asks him to fulfill a smutty fantasy and he's all too happy to comply. Bonus points if reader calls Billy Lieutenant and it involves his combat gear. Love, love, love your blog <3 <3 <3

A/N: Thank you, dear friend 🥰😘

You guys are letting me live my best hoe life and I love you for it 😂

The High Priestess of the Cult of Russo blesses you all 🖤😈😘

Warnings: cursing, a whole load of smut lmaoooo

(Under 18s avert your eyes and scroll on by)

-----

“C’mon, Y/N. I keep askin’ you and you won’t gimme a goddamn answer. I need to know what you want,” Billy huffed from next to you. The pair of you were in a booth at the bar, your friends having all left around 10 minutes ago. You’d opted to stay since you hadn’t finished your very large glass of wine and Billy stayed to keep you company. He’d walk you home, he always did.

You pursed your lips in thought before you scrunched your face up, looking at him as he gave you an exasperated look. You were sitting sideways on the bench seat with him, heels kicked off under the table with your legs draped sideways over his legs. It was pretty much par for the course with you two.

“I don’t know. I think I’m just getting to that age where I don't care about my birthday,” you snorted, taking a slurp from your wine. You had a little under half of it left now and you were pretty tipsy. Billy groaned and rolled his eyes at your answer and you gave him a sheepish smile before looking away. Your birthday was coming up in a few days and he’d been asking you for weeks what you wanted but you didn't really want anything. Nothing material anyway.

There was one thing that kept coming to mind yet you found yourself way too embarrassed to ask him. You took another generous glug of your wine as you thought about it, cheeks flushing slightly.

“What is it?” Billy asked knowingly. Your eyes snapped to his then as he raised a brow.

“What's what?” You asked innocently. He grinned, looking amused as he snatched your glass and took a pull from it.

“You just thoughta somethin’, so spit it out. You know I’d get you anythin’ you want,” he said softly, a fond smile on his face. You chuckled to yourself, eyes darting around the bar for a moment as you nibbled your lower lip. If you were completely sober you’d never tell him, but you weren't sober.

“It’s not necessarily something you’d get me… more something you’d… do,” you murmured, lips tugging up in a wry smirk as you glanced at him. He tilted his head, dark eyes assessing you for a moment.

“Alright, I’m curious,” he drawled with a small smile.

You licked your lower lip, shifting in your seat a little and resting your elbow along the back of the bench seat, bringing you slightly closer to him.

“Okay so… you can totally say no, but you asked so I’m just gonna come out with it. You're not allowed to be weirded out or hold it against me,” you said, levelling him with a firm look. Both his brows raised at that, an apprehensive look on his face.

“Spit it out, Y/N,” he murmured with narrowed eyes. You blew out a long breath, taking the glass back from his hand and slurping some of it.

“My sex life’s been pretty… boring lately. It's always so vanilla, you know? I have this fantasy and honestly, I think you'd be perfect to fulfill it,” you said, looking him right in the eye thanks to the booze running through your veins. You watched as his brows almost flew off his head for a moment, mouth slightly agape as your words hit him. But then he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat a little as he tilted his head. His almost black eyes were pinning you in place and you idly wondered through the layers of alcohol in your brain if you'd just ruined your friendship.

It wasn’t like you thought he wasn't attracted to you, you knew he was. You’d met years ago through Curtis and you quickly became part of their friend group. For the first month after meeting Billy, he’d tried to get in your pants every time you saw him and you’d turned him down. You were flattered, he was hands down the most attractive man you'd ever seen. But Curt had warned you of his reputation and you preferred to have one night stands with people you didn't know. It was less awkward that way. It was after that first month when things changed with you and Billy though. The pair of you were supposed to meet Frank and Karen at the bar but they hadn't turned up. You later learned they'd been so wrapped up in each other they'd forgotten the plans. But it ended up being just you and Billy. You'd bonded over tequila and tragic backstories and since then, you'd been super close friends.

“What exactly is this fantasy of yours?” He asked. You didn't miss how his voice sounded deeper and it sent a shiver right through you. It wasn't an outright no, so you took that as a win at least.

“I mean… I don’t have specifics really. I have some ideas and stuff, things I’d like to try. And I don't feel comfortable doing it with some random guy, but I trust you so…” you trailed off, swishing the last bit of your red wine around in the glass. When you looked back up at him, his eyes were a little softer, a small smile playing on his lips. He leaned his arm on the bench, his hand by your hair as he toyed with it. It was something he did often and you always enjoyed it.

“Tell me what you got in mind,” he murmured as you leaned into his touch.

“Do you still have any combat gear?” You asked, biting your lip as you looked up at him. He looked mildly shocked for less than a second before a sly grin worked its way onto his face.

“Yeah… yeah I do,” he replied with a smirk.

“I have a thing for a guy in uniform, I mean who wouldn't? And I happen to know you look pretty good in it since I've seen the pictures,” you shrugged, sipping your wine. He seemed like he lit up at your praise and you almost laughed, it was kind of cute.

“What else? You want me to play dress-up, but what else you wanna try?” He asked softly. It was a valid question, clearly if you didn't trust some random guy to do what you wanted it was more than just putting on military gear.

You looked away for a moment but he tugged your hair, making you look back at him with a mild squint as he grinned at you, his brows raised expectantly.

“I’ve never tried anything… exciting. It's depressing, Billy! Its always boring old vanilla sex. I want to be dominated, I wanna be restrained, I wanna try things, you know? I wanna be choked, spanked, all of the good stuff,” you whined, letting it all out. He blinked at you for a long moment and he didn't speak, his face unreadable. You started to wonder if you’d broken him before he rolled his shoulder and a dark smirk graced his face. It made your lower belly clench. You'd never seen that look on his face before, but fuck if you didn't like it.

“Done,” he said simply, the slightly terrifying yet arousing smirk still on his lips. His eyes were alight with something you couldn't place as you looked at him skeptically.

“Really? Just like that?” You asked with a snort. You had no plans on telling him but you always thought if you did he’d say no or never speak to you again for even asking.

“Just like that,” he shrugged easily. With that, he switched topics to something else entirely and before long he’d walked you home after you finished your wine. Neither of you mentioned it again and you wondered if he would before your birthday happened or if he was bluffing and didn't want to outright say it to your face that he didn't want to fuck you.

Days went by pretty quickly and now it was the night before your birthday. Well, it was almost midnight so technically it was almost your birthday. You were sitting on the sofa in an oversized tee and your panties, watching reruns of The Walking Dead. The next day, your actual birthday, you’d be going to Karen and Franks for a little birthday get together with your friends. You yawned into your hand when suddenly your front door knocked firmly. You sat up straighter, now wide awake as you looked at it warily. You weren't expecting company at this time. You checked your phone to see it was dead on midnight before you got up and padded over to the door. When you looked through the peephole, no one was there. You took a step back feeling wary when the door knocked again, more impatient this time. With a deep breath you opened it but nothing could have prepared you for what was on the other side.

Billy was standing there decked out in his combat gear, the same kind you’d seen in the pictures of him and Frank overseas. It fit his frame perfectly and your eyes swept from his head to his feet before back up again, unable to help yourself. When they landed back on his face, he raised a brow, a smirk on his lips. In all honesty, you’d forgotten about it. He hadn't mentioned it once since it happened and acted like you’d never asked such a thing of him and it had completely slipped your mind. But now your body was thrumming with excited and nervous energy and you found your voice rendered useless.

“Gonna let me in?” He asked teasingly. You nodded, quickly stepping out of his way and shutting the door behind him. It was then you noticed a black duffel thrown over his shoulder. Before you had a chance to ask about it, he spoke up.

“Sit down,” he commanded. His tone of voice felt like someone zapped you with an electric current.

“Yes, sir,” you replied instantly, not even meaning to do it. But the way his eyes flared at your words told you he very much enjoyed it.

You moved to sit at the dining table, hands shaking slightly from the anticipation of whatever was to come. The Billy currently in your apartment wasn't the one you were used to. He dumped the bag heavily on the table with a thud and your eyes were drawn to it before you looked back at him. He was standing tall beside the table, looking down at you, his hands clasped behind his back as his eyes regarded you in a way that made you squirm.

“Here's how this is gonna go. Safeword is tequila. You don't like somethin’, speak up. It's all about you, you don't gotta just roll with somethin’ ‘cause you think it's what I want. You have the power to stop it, but while I’m here, I’m in charge. I tell you to do somethin’, you do it or there'll be consequences. We clear?” He asked roughly. There was no smirk on his face now, it was serious as his dark eyes bore into you and you swallowed thickly.

It wasn't lost on you the safeword he’d picked and you felt slightly reassured that while he was clearly asserting his dominance over you right now, he was also letting you know that ultimately, you were the one with the power to call it off.

“Crystal, sir,” you replied, a wry smirk tugging at your lips. He didn't smirk or grin like you expected but you noticed his nostrils flare slightly and his shoulder roll. He unzipped the bag harshly then and inclined his head to it. You stood up to get a better view of what was inside.

Your breathing hitched a little as you rifled through the contents of what he’d gotten you. Even when you'd asked him for this you hadn't expected him to put so much effort into it. In a weird way, it was quite touching.

“Anythin’ you wanna try, get it out and put it on the table,” he instructed. You picked out a silk blindfold, a pair of handcuffs and a paddle. You pushed some of the other things aside in the bag and saw a large black knife at the bottom. Your breathing hitched a little as you took it out, turning it in your hand as your mind ran away with itself. You glanced curiously to Billy then and his cool facade broke when a dirty smirk painted his lips, his eyes dancing with mischief and amusement. He raised one brow, almost in a challenging manner, goading you to see if you'd take the bait. You held eye contact with him as you set the knife on the table and he bit down on his lower lip as his eyes darkened.

You turned back to the things you'd gotten out then. You didn't want to overwhelm yourself and you really wanted to try these out. Suddenly Billy was pressed right up against you from behind and you felt like you couldn't breathe. He’d always smelt good but right now it seemed to be intoxicating and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

“What’re your thoughts on temperature play?” He purred down your ear, making you shiver. Your brain felt hazy with him being so close.

“I uh… I’d like to try it,” you mumbled, feeling like you were drunk or high or some shit. He growled and you felt him tense up behind you, but then his large hand was gripping your jaw and roughly turning it to the side to look at him leaning over your shoulder. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that shouldn’t have you so aroused but it did.

“Wanna try that again?” He asked in a low voice. You swallowed thickly, taking a shaky breath.

“I’d like to try, sir,” you replied softly, wondering if that was what he was after. He smirked almost smugly then, slightly mocking as his hand eased up but didn't let go. He leaned in closer and you felt your head spin.

“Good girl,” he praised. You were pretty sure your panties were soaked at this point and you almost purred at his praise. His chuckle made you think he was quite aware of how much you liked it. For a moment, he leaned even closer and you were pretty sure he was going to kiss you. You wanted him to. But then he moved away, a devilish smirk on his lips as he raised his brows at you. He was toying with you. The very visible bulge in his pants let you know this wasn't something he was doing because he felt like he had to since you’d asked. He was very much enjoying this.

“Bedroom, now. Get undressed,” He commanded firmly as he handed you the pile of items you picked.

“Yes, sir,” you squeaked, excitement gripping you so tight you could barely breathe as you scurried off to your bedroom. You blew out a large breath when you got in there, trying to stop your head from spinning. This new version of Billy was something else entirely and way more than what you thought it would be. You set the items on the nightstand, the knife lingering in your hand for a long moment. Knife play was one of the more dangerous kinks you'd been fascinated by but there was no way you'd trust anyone else with it. You turned the knife in your hand a little, admiring it.

“Thought I told you to do somethin’,” his growl from behind you startled you and the knife clattered to the nightstand. You whipped around to face him with wide eyes. He looked angry, but you knew better. Something was dancing behind his eyes that told you he very much enjoyed the fact he had a reason to assert his dominance over you. It shouldn't have thrilled you as much as it did.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you murmured softly, watching him as he stalked over to you. His hand darted out, gripping your jaw and making you look up at his dark eyes. You felt breathless.

“What did I say would happen if you didn’t do as you were told?” He asked roughly. You swallowed thickly, body running with a fine tremor.

“There would be consequences, sir,” you replied in a breathy voice. You noticed the way his eyes darkened a little and he stared at you for a long moment before letting go of your face.

“Hands and knees on the bed,” he ordered, his face like thunder as if waiting to see if you’d say no. You didn’t though. This was so far from vanilla and better than what you’d ever imagined. There was no way you were stopping this. You also wouldn't lie, seeing this version of Billy was intriguing and hormone inducing.

Your heart was hammering as you went over to the bed and got on your hands and knees. You felt slightly embarrassed presenting yourself to Billy of all people like this but you heard a soft groan when you arched your ass in the air and you bit your lip with a smile. Your oversized sleep shirt had ridden up a little and your small lace panties were now on display.

You glared at your sheets as you braced yourself for whatever might be coming your way. But then a sharp stinging erupted from your right ass cheek and you let out a mix between a surprised yelp and a moan. It hurt yet it felt good and you were confused but wildly turned on. It had felt cold and hard and you knew it wasn't his hand. It was the paddle.

But then his large warm hand smoothed over the stinging skin, soothing the burning there and you arched back at his hand unable to help yourself.

"You're gonna learn to be a good girl for me," you heard his rough voice from behind you.

"Yes, sir," you murmured instantly, like you were starting to be conditioned in your responses. He hummed, palming your ass for a moment, giving you ample time to say the safeword yet you didn't. You felt the second sting harder on your already sore flesh and you bit your lip with a moan. You lowered your top half, forehead pressing into the sheets as your thighs shook a little from how turned on you were. His hand once again soothed the skin afterwards and you pushed back at him.

The third smack was the harshest and you whimpered, fists bunching in the sheets as you felt the pain and pleasure shoot right through you. You hummed when his hand softly caressed the skin you knew would be red and then you felt him place a kiss to it and you smiled through your delirium. You felt the bed shift behind you and then his hand smoothed up your back over your shirt. You closed your eyes and relished in the feeling but then suddenly he had a fistful of your hair and he gave it a tug, making you moan. He was leaning over your body, looming over you as he leaned in near your ear.

"On your back, Y/N," his tone was commanding and low but he gave your neck a cheeky nip that was in contrast to the harsh grip on your hair. Your head was spinning. He let go and you wasted no time in rolling onto your back. You hissed a little at how sore your ass cheek was and you heard him chuckle darkly. Your eyes moved to him then and you saw the way his eyes dragged across your body as you lay there. You felt your cheeks heat up, basking in the way he seemed to drink you in. His eyes connected to yours then and he flashed you a slightly terrifying smirk. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he kicked off his boots and then pulled off his shirt. He kept on his camo pants as he moved to the nightstand.

You weren't sure what he'd grabbed but then he was straddling you and caging you in with his long legs either side of you. He dangled the blindfold in front of you and your breathing picked up in excitement. When your eyes met his again, you could see he was giving you another chance to back out. You didn't though. You closed your eyes for him and he carefully placed the blindfold on, tying it gently.

It was a strange sensation not being able to see. You felt vulnerable but you also knew you were safe with Billy. You had to rely on your other senses to figure out what was going on. He grabbed your wrists and put them above your head. You felt his thumbs softly swipe over them before you felt the cold metal of the handcuffs clip around one wrist. He tugged it closer to the headboard and you heard a noise before he pulled your other arm up and clipped the handcuffs around it. You tugged a little and realised he threaded them through the headboard, you weren't getting out of this anytime soon. You didn't want to.

You felt him move away from you and you felt the loss instantly. You listened to his quiet footfalls as he moved off the bed and you found yourself laying there in anticipation. The bed dipped again but then your legs were bent at the knee, legs parted and he settled between them.

"Stay still," he warned. You were unsure why until you felt cold metal dragging along your thigh. A soft moan left your lips and you concentrated on keeping your body completely still despite the desperate need to move.

The blade trailed up your body and under your shirt. You felt it gently glide up your stomach and up your sternum. Then his other hand pulled the shirt taut and you heard the material rip as he cut in right down the middle. The air felt cold as the shirt pooled at your sides, exposing your breasts. You heard a growl rumble from him and your chest was heaving. You felt him lean right over your body, his breath hitting your ear and making you squirm.

"So goddamn beautiful," he purred, making you whine a little.

"Sir… please, I wanna see," you pleaded softly, tugging at the handcuffs a little. You really wanted to see the knife. Wanted to watch him with it. You felt him lean up once more so you continued.

"Please, Lieutenant. Let me see," you begged desperately, not a care for how needy and wanton you sounded.

The blindfold was yanked up roughly and your eyes struggled to adjust for a second. You were startled when he gripped your jaw in his knife free hand and leaned right into your face.

"Say that again," he demanded, eyes wild and dark as he stared you down.

"Lieutenant please, I wanna see the knife," you murmured breathlessly. He groaned, closing the distance as he captured your mouth in a dirty kiss. The first kiss he'd given you all night. You moaned and melted into it, willingly letting him dominate your mouth with his tongue.

When he pulled away he was looking at you like it was the first time he was actually seeing you and all you could do was blink up at him dumbly for a moment. Then he was kneeling back up between your legs. Your eyes went to the knife as he twirled it in his hand. You bit your lip, eyes glued to it and he moved it back to your shirt. He sliced through the short sleeves so he could pull off the offending material and toss it across the room. His dark eyes were staring at where the knife was touching your skin, his lips parted a little. You took in the sight of him this turned on and felt something stir inside of you knowing it was you that was doing that to him.

Your eyes went back to the knife as you felt it gently trace down between the valley of your breasts and to your stomach. You couldn't look away as the blade slipped under one side of your panties, slicing through the lace with ease. He moved to the other side then and repeated the same motion. His free hand grabbed the ruined panties and tugged them away and you felt your cheeks heat up at how his dark eyes devoured the sight of you wet and spread wide for him. When his eyes connected with yours once more, they were intense and you almost forgot to breathe.

Then he was leaning over and tugging the blindfold back down and you whined softly at the loss of sight again. You heard him chuckle and then what sounded like the knife clattering on the nightstand again. Then he was up and off the bed and you were sure he'd left the room. You felt a sudden surge of panic despite knowing he just wouldn't leave you there like this. But you tugged on the handcuffs roughly as you wriggled around on the bed. The second you heard him come back into the room, you stilled completely.

Your breathing was erratic, excited and anxious as you bit your lip and waited to see what would happen. You were sure he was being this quiet on purpose. Billy loved to talk yet he was being pretty quiet as he went about doing whatever he was doing. You were sure it was to keep you on edge and it was working.

You felt him kneel back between your legs and you sucked in a breath of anticipation. You suddenly felt something hot drip onto your chest and you hissed a little, back arching at the sensation as it cooled. Hot wax, you mused. Nothing happened for a long moment but you didn't utter the safeword and eventually you felt it happen again. You moaned softly as you writhed, feeling it drip onto your breasts and stomach. You felt his large hand smooth up your stomach slowly and you arched up at his touch like you were needy for it. You wished you could see his face right now, see what he looked like as he did this to you.

He grabbed your right breast firmly and then you felt the hot wax drip onto it and on your nipple and you let out a louder moan as your back arched. The whole thing was so sensual and you'd never experienced anything like it. He hadn't even really touched you yet, not where you were aching at least.

You felt him shifting but he didn't move completely from between your legs. Your brain felt hazy from your arousal as you lay there helplessly and waited for whatever he had planned for you next. You gasped, body tense as you felt an ice cold sensation on your stomach. You mused he'd got some ice cubes from your freezer or something as you felt him slide it up your skin. You squirmed under the cold, squirming more as it trailed to your breast. He chuckled at how much you were moving and cursing under your breath when he circled your nipple with it.

The cold was removed then and the trail of water the ice cube left behind left a chill on your skin. It was nothing compared to the sensation of a freezing cold mouth suddenly sucking on your left breast though. His tongue was icy as he lapped at it and suckled on it greedily as your back bowed a little as needy moans left your lips. He moved away and you let out a whine, almost pouting and making him chuckle darkly at your needy reaction. But then he was placing ice cold open mouthed kisses on your lower belly and spreading your thighs wide open with his hands.

You had no words for the noise you made when he gave you a teasing lick from your entrance to your clit with his cold tongue. You arched up at him and gasped as he started sucking on your clit greedily with a moan. You tugged at the handcuffs, a strong urge to pull at his hair nagging at you. He had you gasping and your thighs shaking in no time but before you got right to the edge, he moved away.

"Whyyy?" You whined pitifully. A sudden but not too hard smack hit you right between your thighs and your exposed clit and you moaned in shock. You hadn't really expected being spanked there to turn you on, yet it really fucking did.

"Behave yourself, sweetheart," his tone was warning and rough and it only served to send another flood of arousal through you.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," you murmured quietly, chest heaving as your body felt like a string pulled taut.

"Good girl," he purred, his fingers dragging through your soaked folds and lazily circling your clit. You arched at his hand, needing more but not getting it.

"So wet for me, Y/N. Bet you're needy for my cock in you, aren't you?" You could hear his smirk and you knew it would be the menacing one from earlier.

"Yes, sir. Please," you begged, unashamed as you squirmed against his teasing fingers. He hummed as he slipped two inside of you and you gasped, mouth falling open.

He was still teasing, fucking you at painfully slow pace with them as you moaned and pushed back onto them more, making him groan.

"Beg for it, sweetheart. Tell me how much you want this tight pussy to take my cock," he demanded roughly.

"Billy, please. I don't want it, I need it. Please fuck me, just fucking destroy me," you pleaded wantonly. You figured your desperation was enough for him because he didn't punish you for using his name. In fact, he moaned at your words and his fingers suddenly left you. You felt him moving around, heard him unzipping his pants and practically rip them off rapidly.

Then you were gloriously full with a large and thick cock in one swift movement and you let out a keening moan that blended with his deep groan. His large hands gripped hold of your hips roughly as he started railing into you like his life depended on it. You'd never been fucked quite like this before and your whole body was jostling from the force of it. You were moaning like a bitch, the noises tumbling from your lips without consent but you didn't care. His own pleased noises only heightened your pleasure and your back arched as you met each thrust.

A dirty moan left his mouth and you felt him lean over you, felt the bed dip on your left side and then felt him lift your right leg and hitch it over his hip, spreading you even further. It seemed to make him go in deeper and you tugged at the handcuffs as you felt the need to find purchase on something as he fucked you at a savage pace. His moans were right in your ear now and you squirmed on his cock, making him growl and pick up his pace.

You were already teased beyond comprehension and your moans got higher and higher the closer you got. You felt like you were dangling on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the moment you went careening off the edge. Another hard and deep thrust later and you were free falling. Your moans seemed to bounce off the walls as your back arched so much you'd probably look possessed. The hand on your thigh moved to your throat then, slender fingers applying some pressure as he fucked you. A second orgasm snuck up on you out of nowhere with that and you cried out as you writhed on his cock. His fingers tightened around your throat a little as he rut into you harder, sinful moans turning into feral growls as his thrusts got more erratic

You were floating on cloud nine when he let out a deep groan, hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside of you. His body sagged, leaning on you a little as he rested his head on your shoulder. You'd never felt this thoroughly fucked before and you were sure your brain had melted. You whined softly when he pulled out of you and you felt him move around. You felt the pressure on your wrists release and then the handcuffs being removed. He kissed the skin there softly and you smiled sleepily to yourself. Then the blindfold was gently being pulled away from your face.

You hummed softly, forcing your eyes to open when you felt him lay down next to you. You squinted them as you blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the light once more. You rolled into your side to face him and you were sure you were glowing. He was already looking at you and he gave you a dopey grin, making you snort softly.

"Enjoy yourself?" He asked wryly. He had a slightly smug tone to his voice and you were sure it was because he knew damn well you did.

"That was… the best birthday gift ever. You're uh… really good at the whole… sex thing," you murmured with a stupid smile, brain still not quite working. Something flashed behind his eyes at your praise and his smirk widened.

"The sex thing, huh?" He asked, amused.

"Shut up, you fucked the brain out of me," you protested with a whine. He laughed, shaking his head as he moved to lay on his back.

You watched him, fully expecting him to get up and leave now he'd fulfilled what he came for. Instead, he shot you a smile as he pat his chest, raising a brow at you. You wriggled over to him before laying your head on his chest, curling around him. His arms came around you then making you feel safe and you smiled to yourself. He stroked your hair softly as your eyes fluttered closed.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," he murmured sleepily. You hummed in response, already on the cusp of sleep after what he'd done to you. You had no idea if he'd be there in the morning and you'd worry about getting clean then too. Right now your body needed rest. You drifted to sleep feeling exhausted and like you were floating on a cloud.

Taglist:

(If you asked to be added but aren't here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people for some reason)

@sam-hollandsgirl

@xceafh

@ssll2200

@traditional-morrigan13

@juniebugg

@xonickibaby

@lillianastras

@aleksanderwh0r3

@i-g-n-o-r-e--m-e

@itsallaboutkey

@papiazullll8

@not-too-tall-for-trick

@dontjinx-it

@kaleidoscopegirl

@voyevoda-thejoy

@s-corpionem

@blanchedelioncourt

@elleatrixlestrange

@strawb3rrydr3ss

@odetostep

@crowssixof

@katedrexel

@primadonnasdream

@fortheloveofallthatsholy

@supernaturalcat7

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@tanyaherondale

@acourtofsnakes

@weallhaveadestiny

@tomhollandisabae

@carnationworld

@nemesis729

@advictedtohim

@lady4punk

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@kassandra-of-troy

@blackbirddaredevil23

@nebulastarr

@ilkaeliseb

@runawayolives

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Waking Comfort (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence (in a flashback), implied/referenced trauma (unspecified) Warnings: N/A Summary: Unable to sleep on a cold day, Bela Dimitrescu tries to find comfort in her favorite servant... only to end up being the one doing the comforting. Notes: This is super self indulgent, because my dreams have been murdering me recently. Reader is a selective mute/partially nonverbal, implied neurodivergent (unspecified), gender neutral but written with a non-binary person in mind, with non-specific past trauma. Basically this is somewhat of a self-insert fic but I've smudged some lines to make it more relatable for other people.

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In the early hours of the day, when the sun had yet to reach its peak, a cold quiet fell over Castle Dimitrescu. Most inhabitants were of a nocturnal persuasion, and lay sleeping soundly at this hour. Those few that thrived in the sun moved softly, with caution, daring not to awaken their masters. Oh, if only they knew that one Lady of the house was awake, prowling the corridors with marked intent. What a chill it would send down their spines- what lovely fear would permeate the household.

Ah, but that was not what Bela Dimitrescu desired, at least not for now. No, what she needed was something she would never admit out loud. It was a “base” need, one that all humans felt, and so she feared that it was beneath her. There was only one person that she could trust for this: A servant, experienced in all matters needed of them, level-headed, compassionate… and, most importantly, selectively mute.

Over the past year, Bela had found herself growing closer to you, much to her own surprise. The two of you had started to bond through reading, after you had helped her reorganize a mess in the library (left by none other than Lady Daniela). Since then, you had proven to be a valuable ally, always finding creative solutions to the family’s problems. From jury-rigging a set of climbing gear for repairs, to proof-reading all formal letters, there was hardly any part of Bela’s life that you hadn’t assisted with. All while only ever saying two or three sentences- short ones, at that.

Neither of you would ever forget the first (and only) time you spoke out loud. A would-be hunter had infiltrated the estate, through a damaged skylight (which you later repaired), intending to prove his worth by killing the nobility inside. By the time Bela arrived, after being notified by a terrified maiden, she found the situation had already been aptly handled. There you had stood, clutching an ornate, bloodied cane like a club. In front of you had been the unconscious hunter.

“You could have been hurt!” Bela had snapped, unable to stop herself, glad that her sisters hadn’t arrived yet. Then you had glanced at the man, then her, then back to the man. Something uncharacteristically dark had danced in your eyes.

“He said he was going to save me… from you. Called me defenseless,” you had snarled, poking the man with your cane as you did. “Rude.” Before Bela even had a chance to react, her sisters had appeared, disappointed to find the fight already over. They had fought over who would get to kill the hunter, and somewhere in that chaos you had slipped away without another word.

That day had replayed itself in Bela’s mind hundreds of times in her mind. Though she would not readily admit it, that had been the day that her casual affection for you had started to turn into something more serious. These days she didn’t even know how to describe your relationship- after all, you had never told her how you felt. But you had held her, closely, fingers running through her hair while she fought off memories from someone else’s life. Held her in your arms, as she held you, staving off the cold like it was all you had ever known.

This was what she wanted. Your touch, your comfort. All that stood in her way was a familiar question: Where were you? Master of your environment, schedule constantly in flux, you were rarely where anyone expected you to be, especially when you were prone to taking on whatever tasks others hadn’t had time to finish. So Bela searches, quickly, around places the day-shift tends to gather. She’s careful not to be seen, even though she knows the maidens aren’t likely to gossip where her family might hear. In the end she catches a hint of your scent near the servants’ quarters, and curses herself for not checking there sooner.

Your room is one of the only single-occupancy rooms in this wing. Only senior staff were allowed within these places, most of them rotating out as they “lost their usefulness”. The fact that you had slept in the same bed every night for six months was a testament to your skill. It’s the kind of thought that brings Bela some semblance of warmth in her chest. Still, the thought alone is not enough, so she slowly eases your door open.

Her ears strain against the silence, listening for the pattern of your breathing, or the telltale murmurs that would announce your awakening. Instead, the first things she hears are little gasps, then the shifting of fabric. Dreams of some sort have you turning and tossing, lungs getting hungry in their pursuit of air. It’s not immediately clear whether or not you are enjoying the dream. Were these good gasps, like those that Daniela often cooed about when she praised her maiden? Or were these the same kind that sometimes haunted Bela herself?...

A whimper cuts through the air, and suddenly Bela loses all patience. Practically running, she crosses the room in an instant, concern etched into her brow. One hand cautiously reaches for your blanket, pulling it back enough for her to slide in next to you. It’s a risk, one that could make you wake up with a panic, but it’s one she’s willing to take. After all, she had asked you about this sort of thing before. Though you couldn’t form full sentences, you had experience “miming” things, and Bela was quite clever with her “yes or no” questions.

When she carefully wraps an arm around your waist, she does so with confidence. Beneath her touch you stiffen, back going as tense as possible, but you stop shaking. A few more gasps leave you, and Bela wonders whether or not she should wake you up. Less than a minute later the decision is made for her. All the sudden your gasping turns to a sharp exclamation, body jerking hard, eyes snapping open. Tension coils through your muscles, driving your already overstimulated brain overboard.

Before Bela can even try to comfort you, you sit up, quickly turning so your legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Muffled sobs pass your lips as you hold your face in your hands. Memories struggle against each other behind your eyes, blocking out every other sensation. Your jaw is clenched, hard, and you struggle to breathe between shakes. A hand touches your back, but quickly moves when you flinch in response. It takes a minute for you to even process who else is with you. Once you do, some of the tension bleeds from your body.

“If you’d rather be alone right now, I understand,” Bela says, quietly, as soon as she thinks you’ll be able to understand her. For a moment you can’t bring yourself to respond, and you can feel her side of the mattress shifting, like she’s getting ready to leave. Panic springs up in your chest again, so you quickly reach a hand out in her direction. Thankfully she knows what to expect at this point, easily finding your hand in the dark, gently taking it within her own. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”

You squeeze, once.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Bela asks, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice. It makes you pause, considering, even though you’re still overwhelmed by your sensory inputs. In the end you squeeze her hand twice. “No worries, my dear. Don’t be tempted to push yourself just for my sake.” Somehow she always knew how to read you like an open book. Even with the… difficulty of communicating with you. Not that she had ever complained, or even thought about it. Knowing you, and caring for you, made any effort feel as easy as breathing.

A few minutes pass without another word being said. Sometimes Bela gives your hand a little squeeze, just to check in, and you always return it. Soon enough your brain starts to relax, loosening its vice-like grip on your motor controls. Once again you can ease the tension in your muscles. Then you find yourself rubbing your thumb against Bela’s hand, moving in soft circular motions, head turning so you can smile at her. Even if it’s too dark for you to see much, you know that her eyes see you just fine.

“Feeling any better?” She asks, donning a smile of her own. One squeeze. “Is there anything more I can do to help?” A pause, then one squeeze. Now that your limbs don’t feel as staticky, there’s only one thing on your mind: Cuddling. You’re moving before you know it, briefly letting go of Bela’s hand so you can get closer to her, pressing your face into her neck and giving her a soft kiss. Then you’re falling against the bed, on your side, looking up at your partner with a grin. It doesn’t take her long to get the message, shifting back onto her side so she can hold you for real this time. One of your hands goes to rest on her back, to serve as your translator for the rest of the night. “I love you,” Bela says, without even thinking.

She freezes up afterwards, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever said the words out loud to you. For a moment she’s scared, a feeling alien to her, but she refuses to back down. It pays off a few seconds later, incredibly so, when you return the words the best way you can: One squeeze.

#bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #glorified self insert #self indulgence at its finest #is this even in character??#or am I just lonely and prone to incredibly intense nightmares #hopefully ~somebody~ enjoys #especially after the last serenade chapter right?

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boytouya · 3 years

Text

𝘼 𝘽𝙤𝙮 𝙄𝙨 𝘼 𝙂𝙪𝙣*

words: 1.2k

request: ‘Hey!! I hope requests are still open but 👉👈 I was wondering if I could request a Megumi x Male!Reader fic where the reader has a secret crush on him, but yuuji or nobara find out on accident and try and get the reader to just 'ask him out already' (this idea been living in my head rent free all day) Also! could I be the 🍰 anon?’

a/n: i don’t know if you’re the same anon who already asked to be the 🍰 emoji but if not i’m so sorry! i can add something before or after the cake if you’d like(:

warnings: None!

You were not in love. Megumi was not the first thing you thought of when you woke up. He certainly didn’t have your brain delaying three seconds behind your mouth. You didn’t misspeak around him once. Not once had his long, naturally curled eyelashes coke across your mind. The way he’d furrow his eyebrows and form a gentle crease in his forehead? All news to you. Simply because you didn’t like him.

You didn’t know his patterns because you liked him. You knew because he was always there. Always in your life, whether he’s lugging behind Nobara and Yuuji or heading off to bed in all black pajamas. He was a constant in your life, and perhaps one of the most stable things in it. But that didn’t mean you liked him, per say.

A better word would be admire.

Yes, that’s right. You admired his bravery and strength, just as you admired his facial features from afar. Though he was still young, Megumi acted much more mature than his peers. He’d have moments where excitement would seep through the cracks, he’d smile ever so slightly and the glossiness of his bottom lip would catch sunlight through green trees. You admired him as if he were a painting. You could look, but you could never touch. You didn’t like him, but holding his hand didn’t sound so bad.

He embodied Atlas in himself, holding up his world with tired arms and straining muscles. It was clear he deserved better than what he had gotten, but he wouldn’t really be himself if it weren’t for Gojo. Mentally, you thank him for that. You thank him for holding the Earth when Megumi wears too thin to do it himself. Their balance is equal, truthfully you’re a bit envious. Not because you like him, but because you want to help.

You want to help in the way Yuuji does, like when he laughs straight into Megumi’s ear and takes photos to remember the moment. The room grows noticeably brighter, and although Megumi is one of the darker characters in the room, he carries the Sun on his back. Perhaps instead of Earth he’s lifting Yuuji and Nobara, who seem to revolve around him. It doesn’t strike you with jealousy, it smites you with longing. You yearn to be as close as them. Not because you like him.

“You like Megumi?!” Yuuji shouts, raising his hands into the air as he lifts himself from his seat. Leaves fall along the pavement of the train station, sticking to the base of his shoes. People in Japan are quite good at minding their business, but it doesn’t stop a few subtle glares in his direction. The train has just enough walking space, Lunch Rush has just finished so less people were making their way inside. The open space doesn’t stop him from smacking his hand against the railing though. He hisses, shaking his hand and turning to Nobara before whispering, “I knew it! You owe me!”

Unfortunately, Megumi couldn’t join you on your expedition to Sendai. You still wanted to buy him something, just so he wouldn’t feel left out. That was all. You swear, that was all. You had no idea how he found out, you just have murmured something that his scary accurate ears picked up.

Nobara makes a sour face, shaking her head, “Fushiguro? Say something to him!” Her hair follows in her movement, disrupting its usual tighty space atop her head. You can’t tell if it’s directed toward you or Yuuji, but surely she wouldn’t advise you against dating someone she’s so close to? Not that you wanted to date him.

“I don’t like him!” You make an ‘x’ with your arms, and although your face is twisted into something that resembles grumpiness, your voice doesn’t sound like it at all. You’re clearly lying, and the raise in pitch at the end of your voice gives it away. You noticeably deflate, your lips resting into a straight line. “...I don’t even know if he likes guys.”

Yuuji goes quiet, leaning forward in his chair with his chin tucked between his thumb and four fingers. He’s lost in thought, mimicking Nobara’s pensive expression until a lightbulb pops in his head.

“That’s not true! You just gotta ask. Buy him something that’ll really ‘whoo’ him.” He grins, as though that was an option buried under layers of cement. You shake your head, watching Nobara stand from her seat and grip the hand rest above your heads. She looks down at you with an uncomfortably scary look of determination.

“Cheer up. Everything will work out since I’m here,” The train stops, and Yuuji jumps to his feet with an enthusiastic nod. It was your stop. “Let’s get sushi first.”

…

It would be an understatement to say they went overboard. Their advances were… compassionate, to say the least. The only problem was returning back with mountains of bears, sweets, carryout boxes of sushi (Nobara’s idea) and flowers (Yuuji’s idea) without being noticed. It was noticeably loud, and the vibrant red chrysanthemums you had pressed into your hand were making quite the scene. You wondered if you’d have to give him the button to your uniform, with all this commotion.

Megumi shuffles toward the three of you, his eyebrows stuck together as he takes in the sight of..whatever it was you had in your hands. You managed to carry all of it, bending awkwardly to keep anything from falling. The lump in your throat only gets bigger as three sets of eyes look at you expectantly. What are you supposed to say? ‘Hey Megumi, I’ve had a crush on you since the first day we met! I don’t even know if you like men, but do you wanna be my boyfriend?’ The food you’d eaten earlier no longer sits comfortably in our stomach, instead it churns and threatens to rise up as bile. Your hands feel clammy, and if it weren’t for the variety of things in them you’d be wiping them down on your pants.

“Ask him out already!” Nobara pushes you forward, her eyes oddly starry as her palms meet your shoulder blades. You stumble forward, nearly smacking the entirety of your weight right onto your crush. It seems so much easier in the movies. A confession, a kiss, fireworks, and a happy ending. But movie kisses were fake, and you hoped if you got to kiss Megumi it’d be full of the most sincerity the world could offer.

“I-“

“I like you too.” Megumi says, his face completely relaxed. He stares straight into your eyes, trying to catch even a glimpse of wavering doubt. You stand your ground, but while half of you is stuck in his captivating gaze, the other half is still in shock. Megumi, of all people, likes you. He grabs the bouquet of chrysanthemums, twirling them around between his fingers. He could have very easily snapped them, thrown everything out of your hands and stomped on it. But he didn’t. He inspected everything carefully, and he looked the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him. He awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder, earning loud squeals from Nobara and Yuuji.

“I like your compassion, too.”

“What?!? That’s all you have to say?!”

#💕.megumi #megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x male reader #megumi fluff #jjk x you #jjk x male reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi imagine #anime x you #anime x reader #anime x male reader

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